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itsmoonphobic · 3 years ago

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Dream SMP characters and my interpretation of them:

-Techno: The smell of Dirt and soil,blood,wine and old books. Silk pillowcases,golden jewelry,mosaics,stained fingertips, grand staircases,scented candles,storyteller,lazy smiles, secretive,slow dancing,sad resting face,elegant language,cold weather,confident,doubts himself,philosophy, messy braids,glowdust flakes, poetry,graceful movements,neat and cursive handwriting, greek mythology, oriental music,pale skin,libraries,sarcasm, long-lasting friendships,quotes,frosted windows,layering clothes, know-it-all,rude but endearing,pile of papers,cherry blossoms,muted colors,overthinks everything,devotion,logical thinking,insomniac,scattered mind,castle walls,laid back,tired eyes,long debates,show over tell,lingering touches,rulebreaker, dirty palms,old movies freezing feet,old habits,late nights studying,early riser,skips meals,eye bags,tea with milk,velvet jackets,dimly lit by streetlights,ancient wood floors,flowy curtains,art museums, gravely morning voice,echos in the middle of nowhere,sleepy whispers,nostalgia everywhere,red lipstick stains,loves animal more than people,calm and quiet, healing stones,parked car conversations,sharp jaw,obsessed with memes,violins,doves, doves,floats instead of walks,unbroken promises,twisting and winding hair around fingers,nail biting, repeating phrases,mist secret scars,rumors,always wearing earphones,metaphorical, emotions fragile as a flower, speaks with his eyes,fluttery eyelashes,dog lover,forehead kisses,calligraphy,pretty knives,cares too much,lopsided grins,messy desks,talks for hours no,rolling his eyes all the time,powerful strides,wants to conquer the world,slender hands,good grades, dusty book covers,wax stamped envelopes,vintage mirrors

-Phil: The smell of cold air,pine trees and sandalwood.Dead birds and mothballs,stops on the sidewalk to make sure nobody is left behind,morning person,herbal teas,crows,eats breakfast outside,constellations,family portraits on walls, chirping and whistling,crime documentaries,cool father figure, graveyards,weeping angels,meteor shower,many friends but only a single close one,contagious laugh,fragile teacups,fog, early mornings,fuzzy blankets,springs of thyme,bare feet, empty streets,rosemary stems,flickering lanterns,burnt wood bowls,feather collector,antique silverware,a sky full of stars, skylights,torn pages,overstuffed bookshelves,makes you feel comfortable whenever you talk to him,organized,full of ideas, believes in magic,gives the best advice,lost in his own way, warm hugs,scrapbooks and bullet journals,old cars,soft features,daydreaming,bright eyes,getting lost in the woods,moonlight,self knitted sweaters, stargazing on tailgates,the universe,hand in hand with wandering hearts, garage sales,questioning life but feeling at peace,attic bedrooms and haylofts,pursuing science and desiring art, photo albums,hopeless romantic,dark chocolate,open windows and quirky morning rituals,actually knows what brunch is, succulents,a kind-hearted loner,free-spirit,plaid button-ups, always ready to let you rant,abandons projects quickly, complicated past,bold moves,goes with the flow,aims for things that seem unachievable,lives in extremes,knowing smiles,constantly busy with something new,soft touches,love at first sight,naps alot,subsequent tea stains,sparkly eyes, abandoned barns,handwritten notes,feather quills,fascination with the sky,whispering secrets to the wind,great with kids, takes a backpack everywhere,hugs trees,big winter coats,road trips,knows tons of medical info,bites his nails,comforting presence,lost souls,city lights from a high rise

-Wilbur: The smell of fire,smoke,caramel and coffee. Stands up for people who can't for themselves,emotional wreck,loves his family too much but still yells at them,soft turtlenecks,sits in different spots every time he eats dinner,chipped nailpolish, songwriter,probably depressed,wakes up in the middle of the night to write down random thoughts,heartbroken teenager songs,dark psychology and deep meanings,globes and maps, wants to travel and make lots of memories,curls of steam, earbuds in,spattered ink,good singer,keeps to himself,old music and dusty vinyl,the type of person that you could stare at for hours,loud laugh,ride or die,dreams about his future, believes in fresh starts and new beginnings, messy and tangled hair,summer nights,soft features,deep thinker and dimples, having crushes,musicals and theater, half finished diaries and laptop stickers,mixtapes,quirky love notes, secretly kinda insane,always ready for coffee,thrift shops, beachy waves, bonfires,probably drives too fast,cutoff jeans, cream and sugar,nude colors,always creating new problems for himself, fights for equality,long debates and tired eyes, tapping a rhythm and humming quietly,spends all his time on social media,beanie galore,trench coats,foggy glasses,cozy sweaters, dancing around his room to the Beatles,looking out the window when the sun is setting,birkenstocks,guitar strumming on a warm summer evening,bells and chimes,subtle sadness, the feeling of diving into a deep pool,perfect proportions,too many playlists,holding hands,pretty boy,sew on patches and bomber jackets,candid photos,warm sun on bare skin,dancing silhouettes on the sunsets,beach walks at midnight,messy but cozy room,different mood every minute,singing his favorite song at the top of his lungs,sharp grins,haunted houses, paranormal stuff,late night snack runs with friends,explores creeks and lakes,double checks everything he does,walking through hot sand,backyard campfires,acoustic songs,photo booths,train platforms at night,s'mores,sun bleached arbors

-Tommy: The smell of plastic,fresh cut grass and musk. Does the bare minimum at School,unless genuinely interested in a topic,doodles on the side of his paper,movie marathons,empty coca cola bottles everywhere,rope swings,glossy nailpolish,lots of energy,life of the party, kidcore ,can always make you laugh,loves photography,eyestrain and bright colors,bruised knees and untied shoelaces,paperballs in class,brand new red converse,denim jackets,pins and clips,chalk drawings in the middle of the road,every text contains emojis, garden sprinklers,graffiti,wreck this journal,vibrant dyed hair, scribbles and highlighter pens,carnivals,involed in many things, watermelon flavored anything,loves to climb trees,screaming on playgrounds,oversized t-shirts,stained glass windows, anklets,skateboards and hula hoops,milkshakes on the front porch,social butterfly,always in a hurry,pinkie promises,tangled headphones,melted crayons and gummy bears,bean bags and hummingbirds,spinning around till he gets dizzy,chaotic and crazy yet so fun to be around,rushing into things too quickly, roller coasters and derbies,doesn't get knocked back by criticism,cans of fizzy drinks and neon lights,skips school,tye dye shirts and nitendo games,impulse and class clown,sticks stickers on stranger's things,pickpockets his close friends,has to carry a walkie-talkie around with him at all times,sleepovers and sneaking out through windows,pockets full of change and random buttons,stands out in crowds and makes friends easily, pretends to be fearless but is scared of the littlest things,trips and rips his jeans daily,uno cards,social butterfly,music discs, fights with his family but would actually kill for them,broken handwriting,flannels and jerseys around his waist

-Tubbo: The smell of honey,fresh bread and citrus. Lowkey soft, hugging a teddy bear,pressed flowers,eats alot of bread,big hoodies,fairy lights and blanket forts,prank calls while holding in your laughter,beeswax candles,sidewalk dandelions,gentle cuddles on the couch,pastel yellow and cute doodles,flower crowns and diasy chains,plays the ukulele,fascinated by bees and supports local coffee shops,outdoorsy sunshine addict, sparklers and iced lemonade,festivals with fireworks and fireflies in mason jars,homework done as soon as its assigned, watercolor paintings,giggling uncontrollably,long hugs and lazy cartoon afternoons,park dates and forehead kisses,cutting pants into shorts,messy wild hair and pear lollipops,has tiny random braids decorated with golden yarn,hearing the crinkle of leaves underfoot,suprise piggy back rides,adult swim shows and lip gloss stains,being goofy without meaning to,bounces in his step and stops to pet stray animals,baked bread and washi tape bracelets,bike rides and summer picnics,rolling down a hill in the spring and bringing home grass stains on his jeans, waving at someone across a crowded room,spontaneous hang outs and self made clay rings,sitting in the warm sunlit grass on early spring mornings,rock painting and hiding them for other people to find,picking apples from trees but needing to be held up in order to reach one

-Ranboo: The smell of peppermint tea,denim and rain. Is there for everyone but never themselves,regrets things they said but can never find the nerves to apologize,clumps of mascara and winged eyeliner,writes down every tiny thing in notebooks, loves children and their friends,forgetting that they already grabbed a waterbottle,drawing on condensation windows,rainy days and puddles,always on the edge of a breakdown,elevator music and long limbs,old tape recordings and cassettes,moss covered ruins and greenhouses,wanting to be in multiple places at the same time,different colored socks,long hugs and head pats,reading under the covers,collages and spray paint,record players and walks alone through the woods,loves playing by creeks and collecting stones,always wondering and worrying about things they shouldn't,vivid dreams and leather jackets, silver necklaces and piercings,snoozing their alarm clock, seeing the moon in the early morning,blurry photographs and windswept hair,downpours and comfortable silence,wrapping gifts and handing them over with shaking hands,sitting on a rooftop and spontaneous plans,lofi sounds and long train roads,deja vu moments,randomly dissapears and sipping tea, cold concrete and city parks,tickets and brochures from places they visited,dusty parchment and desperately trying to be a good person,wikipedia articles and lace-up boots,often loses track of time while talking to people they love,sings to the radio and avoids conflict if possible,can't sit still for five minutes, perpetually in an emo phase and knows more than they let on, hawaiian shirts,henna tattoos and sparkling water,sleeping in complete darkness and the relief of falling into bed,midnight thunderstorms and anticipation for the coming day,lucky charms and the sound of rain hitting the windows

-Dream: The smell of apples,eucalyptus,vanilla and green tea. Freckles and smiley faces,glow sticks and wrinkled linen, probably a really good singer,wild laughter and jellyfish, popular,tanned skin and cruising with the top down,doesn't take shit from anyone,analytical and self assured,beachy waves and dreamy sunsets,running barefoot,likes being active and on the go at all times,sassy and dramatic as fuck,dream catchers and hammocks,glow in the dark stickers on his phonecase, feisty and a sense of danger,brought home stray cats when he was a child,falling in love with strangers,waking up early and continue laying on the bed,golden hours and 4pm naps,soft aching hands burried in messy hair,center of attention,static and heavy breathing,old percy jackson books under the bed, throwing pebbles at the closed windows of his friends' room, retro diners at 2am,adrenaline junkie and nighttime thriver,will go insane if cooped up indoors for too long,deadlines till last minute,oversleeping and coming home past midnight,naturally a really good surfer,hugs from behind and neck kisses,checking the fridge at 1am,ice cream in bed and cat cuddles,always picks up over facetime

Might make more parts for some of the other guys :)

#mcyt #minecraft youtubers #minecraft #tommyinnit #dreamsmp #wilbursoot #philza #mcytblr #sbi #technoblade #dream #dreamwastaken #ranboo #tubbo #moon is back with all of his awesomeness losers #long post

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thxngam · 3 years ago

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Hey! Do you have any recent TWW fic recs?

i love it when ppl ask this bc it's an excuse to go through like 5 pages of tww fic

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30801968-- been talkin' 'bout the way things change by @sam-loves-seb: sam's pov after the hawaii vacation and how he finds out about josh and donna. a sweet fic; josh is all domestic and cute and i think its nice seeing it from a outside pov

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30825962--Enjambment by Anon: a veep and tww crossover! i honestly don't know some of these characters but i live for the last paragraph and also the way josh's inner monologue is written is so funny.

https://archiveofourown.org/series/2273615--windyink/cookiecrumbl's fics: technically these were posted before but then were taken off, and this is a series of them being put back up-i love the role reversal au in particular (also if anyone wants to ask for more headcanons about that au id love that bc i have Ideas). anyway, they're all good!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30606488--california dreamin' by sapphicdonnatella: AHHHHHHH. literally this fic breaks my heart and i love it i just askdlhjlkjhr. after the 47th josh and sam are at a crossroads.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30843320--Blindside by Anon: another crossover! tww characters but in the Social Network (that other aaron sorkin movie?). apprently the movie had a ton of gay energy between zuckerberg (?) and his friend that he started fb with but now is estranged from so this is sam and josh manifested into that world.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30856964--Alive by Kabaleena: guess what? take that completely humorous storyline where josh wanted to be a ballerina when he was younger and make it SAD AF

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30879284--Shenandoah by @hufflepuffhermione: i love one (1) national park geek and his grumpily obliging staff/children

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31121522--Inextricably Linked by Iamsherlocked07: i! just! want! my! characters! to! be! domestic! and! in! love! (cj/toby - they own my heart)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31033013--that this pain wouldn't be forevermore by hanyolo: ok no matter who you ship josh with we all wanted to see what happened after noel. cmon. this is a really lovely post-ep fic for that!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31027226--life is such a changing art by pocky_slash: the fact that this decade old series is still being updated never fails to amaze me. sam/will in the Iowa series (a fabulous series that i've reread a million times: tldr, sam has a mental breakdown and moves in with will and schmoop and coping with mental illness happen) but when their little town knows

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31012385--atwixt by @tunennbee: bee! my love! this is a post canon au of canon (?) that's a really great fic about josh and donna's friendship as sam's president/about to be president and josh is about to be first gentleman. i absolutely ADORE the donnajoey in this fic i just asdjhlkjherjkf.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30966470--rewind by @tunennbee: the first installment of the press sec au!! josh is a sad pining man for sam. literally, i love a dumbass. donna shares these feelings.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30923063--Crossword by @tunennbee: the flipped version of jigsaw! (if you do not know what jigsaw is u have a treat waiting for you if you want to read it here) i am so excited for more. the continuity with jigsaw is amazing and I love seeing sam's take

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31249931--we could be the way forward and I know I'll pay for it by @claudiajcregg: cj and danny at a campaign event during 1998. the way cj is written is literally the best and I love the way the author wrote danny and cj's flirty relationship and also the way danny just has faith and confidence in her even tho he's a reporter and that's technically not his job as just some outside journalist

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31398083--After by Anon: josh and sam as they figure out what they're gonna be after they fall into bed together. a short, but awesome, fic

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31335668--King of the beach by @aroacedonnamoss: trans!josh. i literally LOVE THIS FIC i don't have words its so painful and wonderful I just. ugh. josh, as a teenager, not out to his parents and missing his sister and then donna with him post-rosslyn. literally the way josh's inner monologue is written as his parents deadname and misgender him bc they don't know is just. it's so personal and I love it so much. also the way the author wrote josh's feelings about his sister and what she'd say if she was there I just aldsfhlwejhwkj. so good!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31332755--With One Hello I'll Never Be the Same by @jessbakescakes: THE ULTIMATE DONNAJOSH FIC. i aldshflwejhfkj. read it. read it again.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31316927--a dawning day unfurling by @tunennbee and me!: i am so proud of this fic. the second (but not last) fic in the press sec au that actually covers s6-7! sam comes back to be press sec when cj becomes cos and basically covers from that to santos’ inauguration. read this! bee’s prose is amazing.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31160861--Copse by @callixton: a fantasy au!! it’s so fun to get an au that’s so inventive as this one. also features poly senior staff and im so excited to where this goes goddammit. also the prose is phenominal.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31224122--it was like i couldn’t breathe: an affair in three moments by @singingaboutwishingx: LITERALLY THROW MY HEART IN A BLENDER WHY DONT YOU. sam, josh, and donna but betty, august, and cardigan. hurts so good.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31276175--roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool by @regardstosoulandromance: domestic cj/toby, precanon. so cute

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31266608--after everything (i must confess) by hanyolo: josh and donna post Dead Irish Writers. i love their banter, its the best part of this fic.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31381484--saviors who are fast asleep by darlingdarling: cj/toby and samjosh on the campaign. i think it’s gonna be about the foundings of that familial relationship that was the best part of tww! really excited for this one.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31466189--your eyes look like coming home by hanyolo: basically nobody left (cough cough sam), nobody did something completely out of character bc the writers are stupid (cough cough toby) and nobody was completely burnt out - i mean done with the WH but not so run down (cough cough cj and to an extent josh). donna is also here which is fun and about to get her own amazing career which is fun. our favorite senior staff members leave the white house and go for drinks at which point josh and donna realize they looovvveee each other.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31460531--On the Way to Comfort by Perri Smith (neonhummingbird): im pretty sure this was written a long time ago but it was posted recently so here it is. zoey’s pov after rosslyn.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31438424--you’ll have to run to me tonigh by mikaylawrites: josh and donna in three moments of nightmares. very sweet.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31439759--The Hearts of Men by CarolineShea: tw sexual assault. donna gets through a shitty experience with a shitty congressman. josh is also there to help her. (this is a bad summary it’s actually a really good fic, but tw assault. not super graphic or anything but yeah)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31548374--if life were made of moments by @tunennbee and me: mal and josh after indiana, as mal reflects how oblivious josh and sam are. another installment in the press sec au; the banter is really really good!

these are from the last five pgs of the west wing tag on ao3. i really hope you read these, i love them all!

#the west wing #ask

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introvertguide · 4 years ago

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The Sound of Music (1965); AFI #40

The next film that we reviewed from the AFI Top 100 was the most successful movie adaptation of a Hollywood play of all time, The Sound of Music (1965). The story was based on the 1949 memoir of Maria Von Trapp, who became a nanny for a retired naval officer and his children. They lived together in Austria and had to escape from the invading Nazi party right before the start of WW2. That story was turned into a musical by the dynamic duo of Rogers and Hammerstein and eventually translated to a Best Picture Oscar winner directed by the great Robert Wise. The film was nominated for 10 Academy Awards and won 5 of them. This truly is a phenomenal story with great music and I can't wait to get into the breakdown. Of course, I do need to mention...

SPOILER ALERT!!! IT IS NOT LIKELY THAT MANY PEOPLE DON'T HAVE AT LEAST AN IDEA OF THE PLOT OF THIS FILM, BUT I REALLY GO OVER THE DETAILS!!! MAKE SURE THAT YOU REALLY KNOW THE STORY AND HAVE SEEN THE MOVIE BEFORE GOING ANY FURTHER!!!

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The film opens on that iconic spinning shot of Maria (Julie Andrews) from a helicopter and establishes the beautiful hills of Austria. The whole movie is set on and around the city and hills of Salzburg, Austria. It is 1938, dangerously close to the rise of the the Third Reich and Nazi occupation, but Maria is not involved in such things at the time. She is young, enthusiastic, and completely lacking discipline. Turns out she is training to be a nun at the millennia-old Nonnberg Abbey and the Mother Abbess (Peggy Wood) is considering what to do with her. It is decided that Maria will leave the abbey for a time and work as a governess for one Captain von Trapp (Christopher Plummer) and his seven children.

On the day she arrives, Maria learns that the Captain cares for his children with strict military discipline and also that the kids have caused a lot of trouble for their previous governesses. It seems that their mother has died and their father is distant, so they act out to try and get attention. The kids put a frog in Maria's pocket and place a pine cone in her chair at dinner, but she instead thanks them for their warm welcome and they all cry out of guilt. That night, the eldest daughter Liesl (Charmian Carr) goes out and meets with a young suitor named Rolfe (Daniel Truhitte). They sing together in the rain and then she returns to the house via Maria's room. While there, a thunder storm begins and all the other children join out of fear. Maria sings with them about getting over their fears by imagining good things and the children begin to trust her. The next morning, the Captain leaves to go to Vienna giving Maria a chance to bond with the children even more.

While the Captain is away in Vienna, Maria decides she will teach the children to have fun and allow them to play. She tears down drapes and makes play clothes for the children, then takes them around Salzburg and the surrounding mountains. She teaches them how to sing, allows them to climb in trees, and piles them in a boat to go rowing. The Captain unexpectedly returns to the villa with rival love interest Baroness Elsa Schraeder (Eleanor Parker), a rich Viennese socialite and widow looking for a new husband, and mutual friend "Uncle" Max Detweiler (Richard Haydn). The Captain and his guests are greeted by Maria and the children returning from a boat ride on the lake that concludes when the boat overturns. Displeased by his children's clothes and Maria's impassioned appeal that he get closer to his children, the Captain orders Maria to return to the abbey. Just then, he hears singing coming from inside the house and is astonished to see his children singing for the Baroness. Filled with emotion, the Captain joins his children, singing for the first time in years. Afterwards, he apologizes to Maria and asks her to stay.

Impressed by the children's singing, Max proposes he enter them in the upcoming Salzburg Festival but the suggestion is immediately rejected by the Captain as he does not allow his children to sing in public. He does agree, however, to organize a grand party at the villa. The night of the party, while guests in formal attire waltz in the ballroom, Maria and the children look on from the garden terrace. When the Captain notices Maria teaching Kurt the traditional Ländler folk dance, he cuts in and partners Maria in a graceful performance, culminating in a close embrace. The children get together and sing a goodnight song to the party crowd and the impressed Max insists that Maria join the group for dinner. Confused about her feelings, Maria blushes and breaks away to change clothes. The Baroness, who noticed the Captain's attraction to Maria, hides her jealousy while convincing Maria that she must return to the abbey. Instead of joining the party, Maria leaves a note and runs back to the abbey.

Intermission

Back at the abbey, when Mother Abbess learns that Maria has stayed in seclusion to avoid her feelings for the Captain, she encourages Maria to return to the villa to look for her life. We get the very appropriate, but perhaps the most out-of-nowhere and cringy performance in the film, "Climb Every Mountain" sung by the Mother Abbess. It is convincing and Maria returns to the villa, only to learn about the Captain's engagement to the Baroness and agrees to stay until they find a replacement governess. The Captain's feelings for Maria, however, have not changed and he breaks off his engagement with the Baroness and proposes to Maria. The announcement of the first engagement, the return of Maria, the break-up, and the second engagement all happen in a single day in film and about 20 minutes of run time, so make sure to pay attention.

While they are on their honeymoon, Max enters the children in the Salzburg Festival against their father's wishes. When they learn that Austria has been annexed by the Third Reich in the Anschluss, the couple return to their home, where a telegram awaits informing the Captain that he must report to the German Naval base at Bremerhaven to accept a commission in the German Navy. Strongly opposed to the Nazis and the Anschluss, the Captain tells his family they must leave Austria immediately. That night, as the von Trapp family attempt to leave, they are stopped by a group of brown shirts waiting outside the villa. When questioned by Gauleiter Hans Zeller, the Captain maintains they are headed to the Salzburg Festival to perform. Zeller insists on escorting them to the festival, after which his men will accompany the Captain to Bremerhaven.

Later that night at the festival, during their final number, the von Trapp family slip away and seek shelter at the nearby abbey, where Mother Abbess hides them in the cemetery crypt. They are about to get cleanly away when the are discovered by the boy who was courting Liesl. Rolfe is sill a boy but is shouldering the responsibilities of a man. He lets the family get by because he can't bring himself to harm them, but he does call for backup. More brown shirts soon arrive and attempt to pursue, but they discover their cars will not start as two nuns have removed parts of the engines. The next morning, after driving to the Swiss border, the von Trapp family make their way on foot across the frontier into Switzerland to safety.

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I think the first thing to mention is the undeniably beautiful music. I absolutely love the music of this film and how each song starts off simple and just builds in complexity. The best songs either set the scene or progress the plot and are magnificently placed. From the opening song that sets the scene, to the discussion of how to deal with a woman that doesn't fit in, to the discussion of what to do when you are afraid, to putting your love and affection towards somebody who can't love you. The themes are incredibly deep when you consider the lyrics of the songs as foreshadowing the rest of the movie. The von Trapp family has to escape into the hills and they do it using their musical skills. When the family is trapped and has to keep quiet despite extreme fear for their lives, they are able to make it through because they have been taught to suppress their fear thinking of their favorite things. "Sixteen Going on Seventeen" has the young German boy talking about being a man because he is slightly older then the eldest von Trapp daughter, yet he is charged with finding the family and turning them over to the German military and he can't do it. The music serves a purpose and the movie would be far less palatable for it, despite the story being a truly fascinating real life drama.

The great actress Julie Andrews does such a good job as Maria. This was most definitely a perfect role for her and might be her greatest performance. It is between this role and the part she played in Mary Poppins the year earlier. In fact, Julie Andrews was much better known for her Broadway performances at the time of this film. Mary Poppins was the first feature film role for Julie Andrews and The Sound of Music was technically her third. She jumped on the Hollywood scene and was exceptionally lucky that musicals were popular and she was a beautiful young triple threat (acting, singing, and dancing). She is the perfect example of success being a mixture of preparation, luck, and opportunity.

One thing I forget about musicals from this time period is how quickly plot points (like falling in love and building relationships) happen. I don't mean in terms of run time, I mean in terms of time passing by in the story. Maria is sent to be with the von Trapp family and the children go from hating her to needing and trusting her in a single day. She goes from being a beloved nanny to running away to rejoin the nunnery in one evening. The captain goes from proposing to the Baroness to Maria returning to breaking off his engagement to asking Maria to marry him in a 48 hour period. The Captain and Maria return to Austria after their honeymoon and enter a singing competition to escape to Switzerland all on the same day. In terms of run time, that first day actually takes up the first hour of the film. That last night takes up the last half an hour. I doubled checked this just to make sure, but it is true: only 4 critical days are shown in the film. Maria leaves the convent and arrives at the von Trapp house. Time passes, The Captain returns to fire Maria but changes his mind and instead throws a party where Maria runs away. Time passes. Maria is convinced to return and arrives to find the Captain is engaged before he changes his mind to leave the Baroness and immediately proposes to Maria. We see them on their wedding day. Time passes. The Captain and Maria return and he is ordered to join the Navy, but he instead using the children's performance that night as cover to escape with his family. End of movie.

Despite the story being about a young family escaping the Nazis, this film has the lightest rating (G) of any best picture winner. Some films were not rated at the time that would now be considered a G rating and Oliver! in 1968 had a rating of GP (general public) that no longer exists. It seems like a movie that doesn't have at least a bit of a serious tone can't win a Best Picture and that comes with a heavier rating. It was funny that the Amazon Prime virtual copy that I saw most recently starts out with a screen that says rated G for violence, language, and adult situations.

There are some funny behind the scenes stories since there were many young children in the film. This means that many of them are still alive and can relive their memories with young fans. We are also lucky enough to have Dame Julie Andrews still working and sharing her experiences like a champ. She really is a treasure. The young girl who played the adorable Gretl von Trapp (Kym Karath) is only in her early 60s since she was only six in the film. it was actually her 4th picture, giving her more experience in film than Julie Andrews at the time. There were plenty of specials commemorating the 50th anniversary of the film back in 2015, so there are actually some really good interviews with the surviving cast that are relatively recent. I would highly suggest the 20/20 review of the film that can be found on YouTube:

NBC|ABC|20/20: The Untold Story of 'The Sound of Music - YouTube

There was some concern from the cast and the producers that a film version of a musical would not be financially viable. Other Rogers and Hammerstein musicals had been adapted to film and had not lived up to the success that was found on Broadway. Luckily, director Robert Wise used the natural lighting and countryside of Austria and Germany to slightly excuse the sudden singing of a musical that seems out of place in film. Also, he had recently directed West Side Story and knew how to best accomplish this. Then again, who wouldn't want to dance around and sing in those mountains? Wise did some things like lowering the tone of the song "Climb Every Mountain" and moving Maria through the countryside while she was singing "Confidence in Me." This helped reduce the cringe factor.

So does this film belong on the AFI top 100? Oh God yes. It is a great story adapted by the greatest American songwriting duo and directed by one of the great American directors who specialized in musicals. The list would be lacking if this film was not on it. Would I recommend it? Oh man, yes. Go watch it right now. Oh, you just saw it? Watch it again. It's that good.

#robert wise #julie andrews #the sound of music #musicals #introverts #introvert #60s #classic film #best picture #Oscar Winner #rogers and hammerstein

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castielchitaqua · 3 years ago

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kaddish, allen ginsberg

I Strange now to think of you, gone without corsets & eyes, while I walk on the sunny pavement of Greenwich Village. downtown Manhattan, clear winter noon, and I’ve been up all night, talking, talking, reading the Kaddish aloud, listening to Ray Charles blues shout blind on the phonograph the rhythm the rhythm—and your memory in my head three years after—And read Adonais’ last triumphant stanzas aloud—wept, realizing how we suffer— And how Death is that remedy all singers dream of, sing, remember, prophesy as in the Hebrew Anthem, or the Buddhist Book of Answers—and my own imagination of a withered leaf—at dawn— Dreaming back thru life, Your time—and mine accelerating toward Apocalypse, the final moment—the flower burning in the Day—and what comes after, looking back on the mind itself that saw an American city a flash away, and the great dream of Me or China, or you and a phantom Russia, or a crumpled bed that never existed— like a poem in the dark—escaped back to Oblivion— No more to say, and nothing to weep for but the Beings in the Dream, trapped in its disappearance, sighing, screaming with it, buying and selling pieces of phantom, worshipping each other, worshipping the God included in it all—longing or inevitability?—while it lasts, a Vision—anything more? It leaps about me, as I go out and walk the street, look back over my shoulder, Seventh Avenue, the battlements of window office buildings shouldering each other high, under a cloud, tall as the sky an instant—and the sky above—an old blue place. or down the Avenue to the south, to—as I walk toward the Lower East Side—where you walked 50 years ago, little girl—from Russia, eating the first poisonous tomatoes of America—frightened on the dock— then struggling in the crowds of Orchard Street toward what?—toward Newark— toward candy store, first home-made sodas of the century, hand-churned ice cream in backroom on musty brownfloor boards— Toward education marriage nervous breakdown, operation, teaching school, and learning to be mad, in a dream—what is this life? Toward the Key in the window—and the great Key lays its head of light on top of Manhattan, and over the floor, and lays down on the sidewalk—in a single vast beam, moving, as I walk down First toward the Yiddish Theater—and the place of poverty you knew, and I know, but without caring now—Strange to have moved thru Paterson, and the West, and Europe and here again, with the cries of Spaniards now in the doorstoops doors and dark boys on the street, fire escapes old as you -Tho you’re not old now, that’s left here with me— Myself, anyhow, maybe as old as the universe—and I guess that dies with us—enough to cancel all that comes—What came is gone forever every time— That’s good! That leaves it open for no regret—no fear radiators, lacklove, torture even toothache in the end— Though while it comes it is a lion that eats the soul—and the lamb, the soul, in us, alas, offering itself in sacrifice to change’s fierce hunger—hair and teeth—and the roar of bonepain, skull bare, break rib, rot-skin, braintricked Implacability. Ai! ai! we do worse! We are in a fix! And you’re out, Death let you out, Death had the Mercy, you’re done with your century, done with God, done with the path thru it—Done with yourself at last—Pure—Back to the Babe dark before your Father, before us all—before the world— There, rest. No more suffering for you. I know where you’ve gone, it’s good. No more flowers in the summer fields of New York, no joy now, no more fear of Louis, and no more of his sweetness and glasses, his high school decades, debts, loves, frightened telephone calls, conception beds, relatives, hands— No more of sister Elanor,.—she gone before you—we kept it secret—you killed her—or she killed herself to bear with you—an arthritic heart—But Death’s killed you both—No matter— Nor your memory of your mother, 1915 tears in silent movies weeks and weeks—forgetting, aggrieve watching Marie Dressler address humanity, Chaplin dance in youth, or Boris Godunov, Chaliapin’s at the Met, hailing his voice of a weeping Czar—by standing

room with Elanor & Max—watching also the Capitalists take seats in Orchestra, white furs, diamonds, with the YPSL’s hitch-hiking thru Pennsylvania, in black baggy gym skirts pants, photograph of 4 girls holding each other round the waste, and laughing eye, too coy, virginal solitude of 1920 all girls grown old, or dead, now, and that long hair in the grave—lucky to have husbands later— You made it—I came too—Eugene my brother before (still grieving now and will gream on to his last stiff hand, as he goes thru his cancer—or kill—later perhaps—soon he will think—) And it’s the last moment I remember, which I see them all, thru myself, now—tho not you I didn’t foresee what you felt—what more hideous gape of bad mouth came first—to you—and were you prepared? To go where? In that Dark—that—in that God? a radiance? A Lord in the Void? Like an eye in the black cloud in a dream? Adonoi at last, with you? Beyond my remembrance! Incapable to guess! Not merely the yellow skull in the grave, or a box of worm dust, and a stained ribbon—Deathshead with Halo? can you believe it? Is it only the sun that shines once for the mind, only the flash of existence, than none ever was? Nothing beyond what we have—what you had—that so pitiful—yet Triumph, to have been here, and changed, like a tree, broken, or flower—fed to the ground—but mad, with its petals, colored, thinking Great Universe, shaken, cut in the head, leaf stript, hid in an egg crate hospital, cloth wrapped, sore—freaked in the moon brain, Naughtless. No flower like that flower, which knew itself in the garden, and fought the knife—lost Cut down by an idiot Snowman’s icy—even in the Spring—strange ghost thought—some Death—Sharp icicle in his hand—crowned with old roses—a dog for his eyes—cock of a sweatshop—heart of electric irons. All the accumulations of life, that wear us out—clocks, bodies, consciousness, shoes, breasts—begotten sons—your Communism—‘Paranoia’ into hospitals. You once kicked Elanor in the leg, she died of heart failure later. You of stroke. Asleep? within a year, the two of you, sisters in death. Is Elanor happy? Max grieves alive in an office on Lower Broadway, lone large mustache over midnight Accountings, not sure. l His life passes—as he sees—and what does he doubt now? Still dream of making money, or that might have made money, hired nurse, had children, found even your Immortality, Naomi? I’ll see him soon. Now I’ve got to cut through—to talk to you—as I didn’t when you had a mouth. Forever. And we’re bound for that, Forever—like Emily Dickinson’s horses—headed to the End. They know the way—These Steeds—run faster than we think—it’s our own life they cross—and take with them. Magnificent, mourned no more, marred of heart, mind behind, married dreamed, mortal changed—Ass and face done with murder. In the world, given, flower maddened, made no Utopia, shut under pine, almed in Earth, balmed in Lone, Jehovah, accept. Nameless, One Faced, Forever beyond me, beginningless, endless, Father in death. Tho I am not there for this Prophecy, I am unmarried, I’m hymnless, I’m Heavenless, headless in blisshood I would still adore Thee, Heaven, after Death, only One blessed in Nothingness, not light or darkness, Dayless Eternity— Take this, this Psalm, from me, burst from my hand in a day, some of my Time, now given to Nothing—to praise Thee—But Death This is the end, the redemption from Wilderness, way for the Wonderer, House sought for All, black handkerchief washed clean by weeping—page beyond Psalm—Last change of mine and Naomi—to God’s perfect Darkness—Death, stay thy phantoms! II Over and over—refrain—of the Hospitals—still haven’t written your history—leave it abstract—a few images run thru the mind—like the saxophone chorus of houses and years—remembrance of electrical shocks. By long nites as a child in Paterson apartment, watching over your nervousness—you were fat—your next move— By that afternoon I stayed home from school to take care of you—once and for all—when I vowed forever that once man disagreed with my opinion of the cosmos, I was lost— By my

later burden—vow to illuminate mankind—this is release of particulars—(mad as you)—(sanity a trick of agreement)— But you stared out the window on the Broadway Church corner, and spied a mystical assassin from Newark, So phoned the Doctor—‘OK go way for a rest’—so I put on my coat and walked you downstreet—On the way a grammarschool boy screamed, unaccountably—‘Where you goin Lady to Death’? I shuddered— and you covered your nose with motheaten fur collar, gas mask against poison sneaked into downtown atmosphere, sprayed by Grandma— And was the driver of the cheesebox Public Service bus a member of the gang? You shuddered at his face, I could hardly get you on—to New York, very Times Square, to grab another Greyhound— where we hung around 2 hours fighting invisible bugs and jewish sickness—breeze poisoned by Roosevelt— out to get you—and me tagging along, hoping it would end in a quiet room in a Victorian house by a lake. Ride 3 hours thru tunnels past all American industry, Bayonne preparing for World War II, tanks, gas fields, soda factories, diners, loco-motive roundhouse fortress—into piney woods New Jersey Indians—calm towns—long roads thru sandy tree fields— Bridges by deerless creeks, old wampum loading the streambeddown there a tomahawk or Pocahontas bone—and a million old ladies voting for Roosevelt in brown small houses, roads off the Madness highway— perhaps a hawk in a tree, or a hermit looking for an owl-filled branch— All the time arguing—afraid of strangers in the forward double seat, snoring regardless—what busride they snore on now? ‘Allen, you don’t understand—it’s—ever since those 3 big sticks up my back—they did something to me in Hospital, they poisoned me, they want to see me dead—3 big sticks, 3 big sticks— ‘The Bitch! Old Grandma! Last week I saw her, dressed in pants like an old man, with a sack on her back, climbing up the brick side of the apartment ‘On the fire escape, with poison germs, to throw on me—at night—maybe Louis is helping her—he’s under her power— ‘I’m your mother, take me to Lakewood’ (near where Graf Zeppelin had crashed before, all Hitler in Explosion) ‘where I can hide.’ We got there—Dr. Whatzis rest home—she hid behind a closet—demanded a blood transfusion. We were kicked out—tramping with Valise to unknown shady lawn houses—dusk, pine trees after dark—long dead street filled with crickets and poison ivy— I shut her up by now—big house REST HOME ROOMS—gave the landlady her money for the week—carried up the iron valise—sat on bed waiting to escape— Neat room in attic with friendly bedcover—lace curtains—spinning wheel rug—Stained wallpaper old as Naomi. We were home. I left on the next bus to New York—laid my head back in the last seat, depressed—the worst yet to come?—abandoning her, rode in torpor—I was only 12. Would she hide in her room and come out cheerful for breakfast? Or lock her door and stare thru the window for sidestreet spies? Listen at keyholes for Hitlerian invisible gas? Dream in a chair—or mock me, by—in front of a mirror, alone? 12 riding the bus at nite thru New Jersey, have left Naomi to Parcae in Lakewood’s haunted house—left to my own fate bus—sunk in a seat—all violins broken—my heart sore in my ribs—mind was empty—Would she were safe in her coffin— Or back at Normal School in Newark, studying up on America in a black skirt—winter on the street without lunch—a penny a pickle—home at night to take care of Elanor in the bedroom— First nervous breakdown was 1919—she stayed home from school and lay in a dark room for three weeks—something bad—never said what—every noise hurt—dreams of the creaks of Wall Street— Before the gray Depression—went upstate New York—recovered—Lou took photo of her sitting crossleg on the grass—her long hair wound with flowers—smiling—playing lullabies on mandolin—poison ivy smoke in left-wing summer camps and me in infancy saw trees— or back teaching school, laughing with idiots, the backward classes—her Russian specialty—morons with dreamy lips, great eyes, thin feet & sicky fingers, swaybacked, rachitic— great heads pendulous

over Alice in Wonderland, a blackboard full of C A T. Naomi reading patiently, story out of a Communist fairy book—Tale of the Sudden Sweetness of the Dictator—Forgiveness of Warlocks—Armies Kissing— Deathsheads Around the Green Table—The King & the Workers—Paterson Press printed them up in the ’30s till she went mad, or they folded, both. O Paterson! I got home late that nite. Louis was worried. How could I be so—didn’t I think? I shouldn’t have left her. Mad in Lakewood. Call the Doctor. Phone the home in the pines. Too late. Went to bed exhausted, wanting to leave the world (probably that year newly in love with R my high school mind hero, jewish boy who came a doctor later—then silent neat kid— I later laying down life for him, moved to Manhattan—followed him to college—Prayed on ferry to help mankind if admitted—vowed, the day I journeyed to Entrance Exam— by being honest revolutionary labor lawyer—would train for that—inspired by Sacco Vanzetti, Norman Thomas, Debs, Altgeld, Sand-burg, Poe—Little Blue Books. I wanted to be President, or Senator. ignorant woe—later dreams of kneeling by R’s shocked knees declaring my love of 1941—What sweetness he’d have shown me, tho, that I’d wished him & despaired—first love—a crush— Later a mortal avalanche, whole mountains of homosexuality, Matterhorns of cock, Grand Canyons of asshole—weight on my melancholy head— meanwhile I walked on Broadway imagining Infinity like a rubber ball without space beyond—what’s outside?—coming home to Graham Avenue still melancholy passing the lone green hedges across the street, dreaming after the movies—) The telephone rang at 2 A.M.—Emergency—she’d gone mad—Naomi hiding under the bed screaming bugs of Mussolini—Help! Louis! Buba! Fascists! Death!—the landlady frightened—old fag attendant screaming back at her— Terror, that woke the neighbors—old ladies on the second floor recovering from menopause—all those rags between thighs, clean sheets, sorry over lost babies—husbands ashen—children sneering at Yale, or putting oil in hair at CCNY—or trembling in Montclair State Teachers College like Eugene— Her big leg crouched to her breast, hand outstretched Keep Away, wool dress on her thighs, fur coat dragged under the bed—she barricaded herself under bedspring with suitcases. Louis in pajamas listening to phone, frightened—do now?—Who could know?—my fault, delivering her to solitude?—sitting in the dark room on the sofa, trembling, to figure out— He took the morning train to Lakewood, Naomi still under bed—thought he brought poison Cops—Naomi screaming—Louis what happened to your heart then? Have you been killed by Naomi’s ecstasy? Dragged her out, around the corner, a cab, forced her in with valise, but the driver left them off at drugstore. Bus stop, two hours’ wait. I lay in bed nervous in the 4-room apartment, the big bed in living room, next to Louis’ desk—shaking—he came home that nite, late, told me what happened. Naomi at the prescription counter defending herself from the enemy—racks of children’s books, douche bags, aspirins, pots, blood—‘Don’t come near me—murderers! Keep away! Promise not to kill me!’ Louis in horror at the soda fountain—with Lakewood girlscouts—Coke addicts—nurses—busmen hung on schedule—Police from country precinct, dumbed—and a priest dreaming of pigs on an ancient cliff? Smelling the air—Louis pointing to emptiness?—Customers vomiting their Cokes—or staring—Louis humiliated—Naomi triumphant—The Announcement of the Plot. Bus arrives, the drivers won’t have them on trip to New York. Phonecalls to Dr. Whatzis, ‘She needs a rest,’ The mental hospital—State Greystone Doctors—‘Bring her here, Mr. Ginsberg.’ Naomi, Naomi—sweating, bulge-eyed, fat, the dress unbuttoned at one side—hair over brow, her stocking hanging evilly on her legs—screaming for a blood transfusion—one righteous hand upraised—a shoe in it—barefoot in the Pharmacy— The enemies approach—what poisons? Tape recorders? FBI? Zhdanov hiding behind the counter? Trotsky mixing rat bacteria in the back of the store? Uncle Sam in Newark, plotting deathly

perfumes in the Negro district? Uncle Ephraim, drunk with murder in the politician’s bar, scheming of Hague? Aunt Rose passing water thru the needles of the Spanish Civil War? till the hired $35 ambulance came from Red Bank——Grabbed her arms—strapped her on the stretcher—moaning, poisoned by imaginaries, vomiting chemicals thru Jersey, begging mercy from Essex County to Morristown— And back to Greystone where she lay three years—that was the last breakthrough, delivered her to Madhouse again— On what wards—I walked there later, oft—old catatonic ladies, gray as cloud or ash or walls—sit crooning over floorspace—Chairs—and the wrinkled hags acreep, accusing—begging my 13-year-old mercy— ‘Take me home’—I went alone sometimes looking for the lost Naomi, taking Shock—and I’d say, ‘No, you’re crazy Mama,—Trust the Drs.’— And Eugene, my brother, her elder son, away studying Law in a furnished room in Newark— came Paterson-ward next day—and he sat on the broken-down couch in the living room—‘We had to send her back to Greystone’— —his face perplexed, so young, then eyes with tears—then crept weeping all over his face—‘What for?’ wail vibrating in his cheekbones, eyes closed up, high voice—Eugene’s face of pain. Him faraway, escaped to an Elevator in the Newark Library, his bottle daily milk on windowsill of $5 week furn room downtown at trolley tracks— He worked 8 hrs. a day for $20/wk—thru Law School years—stayed by himself innocent near negro whorehouses. Unlaid, poor virgin—writing poems about Ideals and politics letters to the editor Pat Eve News—(we both wrote, denouncing Senator Borah and Isolationists—and felt mysterious toward Paterson City Hall— I sneaked inside it once—local Moloch tower with phallus spire & cap o’ ornament, strange gothic Poetry that stood on Market Street—replica Lyons’ Hotel de Ville— wings, balcony & scrollwork portals, gateway to the giant city clock, secret map room full of Hawthorne—dark Debs in the Board of Tax—Rembrandt smoking in the gloom— Silent polished desks in the great committee room—Aldermen? Bd of Finance? Mosca the hairdresser aplot—Crapp the gangster issuing orders from the john—The madmen struggling over Zone, Fire, Cops & Backroom Metaphysics—we’re all dead—outside by the bus stop Eugene stared thru childhood— where the Evangelist preached madly for 3 decades, hard-haired, cracked & true to his mean Bible—chalked Prepare to Meet Thy God on civic pave— or God is Love on the railroad overpass concrete—he raved like I would rave, the lone Evangelist—Death on City Hall—) But Gene, young,—been Montclair Teachers College 4 years—taught half year & quit to go ahead in life—afraid of Discipline Problems—dark sex Italian students, raw girls getting laid, no English, sonnets disregarded—and he did not know much—just that he lost— so broke his life in two and paid for Law—read huge blue books and rode the ancient elevator 13 miles away in Newark & studied up hard for the future just found the Scream of Naomi on his failure doorstep, for the final time, Naomi gone, us lonely—home—him sitting there— Then have some chicken soup, Eugene. The Man of Evangel wails in front of City Hall. And this year Lou has poetic loves of suburb middle age—in secret—music from his 1937 book—Sincere—he longs for beauty— No love since Naomi screamed—since 1923?—now lost in Greystone ward—new shock for her—Electricity, following the 40 Insulin. And Metrazol had made her fat. So that a few years later she came home again—we’d much advanced and planned—I waited for that day—my Mother again to cook & —play the piano—sing at mandolin—Lung Stew, & Stenka Razin, & the communist line on the war with Finland—and Louis in debt—,uspected to he poisoned money—mysterious capitalisms —& walked down the long front hall & looked at the furniture. She never remembered it all. Some amnesia. Examined the doilies—and the dining room set was sold— the Mahogany table—20 years love—gone to the junk man—we still had the piano—and the book of Poe—and the Mandolin, tho needed some string, dusty— She went to the backroom to lie down in

bed and ruminate, or nap, hide—I went in with her, not leave her by herself—lay in bed next to her—shades pulled, dusky, late afternoon—Louis in front room at desk, waiting—perhaps boiling chicken for supper— ‘Don’t be afraid of me because I’m just coming back home from the mental hospital—I’m your mother—’ Poor love, lost—a fear—I lay there—Said, ‘I love you Naomi,’—stiff, next to her arm. I would have cried, was this the comfortless lone union?—Nervous, and she got up soon. Was she ever satisfied? And—by herself sat on the new couch by the front windows, uneasy—cheek leaning on her hand—narrowing eye—at what fate that day— Picking her tooth with her nail, lips formed an O, suspicion—thought’s old worn vagina—absent sideglance of eye—some evil debt written in the wall, unpaid—& the aged breasts of Newark come near— May have heard radio gossip thru the wires in her head, controlled by 3 big sticks left in her back by gangsters in amnesia, thru the hospital—caused pain between her shoulders— Into her head—Roosevelt should know her case, she told me—Afraid to kill her, now, that the government knew their names—traced back to Hitler—wanted to leave Louis’ house forever. One night, sudden attack—her noise in the bathroom—like croaking up her soul—convulsions and red vomit coming out of her mouth—diarrhea water exploding from her behind—on all fours in front of the toilet—urine running between her legs—left retching on the tile floor smeared with her black feces—unfainted— At forty, varicosed, nude, fat, doomed, hiding outside the apartment door near the elevator calling Police, yelling for her girlfriend Rose to help— Once locked herself in with razor or iodine—could hear her cough in tears at sink—Lou broke through glass green-painted door, we pulled her out to the bedroom. Then quiet for months that winter—walks, alone, nearby on Broadway, read Daily Worker—Broke her arm, fell on icy street— Began to scheme escape from cosmic financial murder-plots—later she ran away to the Bronx to her sister Elanor. And there’s another saga of late Naomi in New York. Or thru Elanor or the Workmen’s Circle, where she worked, ad-dressing envelopes, she made out—went shopping for Campbell’s tomato soup—saved money Louis mailed her— Later she found a boyfriend, and he was a doctor—Dr. Isaac worked for National Maritime Union—now Italian bald and pudgy old doll—who was himself an orphan—but they kicked him out—Old cruelties— Sloppier, sat around on bed or chair, in corset dreaming to herself—‘I’m hot—I’m getting fat—I used to have such a beautiful figure before I went to the hospital—You should have seen me in Woodbine—’ This in a furnished room around the NMU hall, 1943. Looking at naked baby pictures in the magazine—baby powder advertisements, strained lamb carrots—‘I will think nothing but beautiful thoughts.’ Revolving her head round and round on her neck at window light in summertime, in hypnotize, in doven-dream recall— ‘I touch his cheek, I touch his cheek, he touches my lips with his hand, I think beautiful thoughts, the baby has a beautiful hand.’— Or a No-shake of her body, disgust—some thought of Buchenwald—some insulin passes thru her head—a grimace nerve shudder at Involuntary (as shudder when I piss)—bad chemical in her cortex—‘No don’t think of that. He’s a rat.’ Naomi: ‘And when we die we become an onion, a cabbage, a carrot, or a squash, a vegetable.’ I come downtown from Columbia and agree. She reads the Bible, thinks beautiful thoughts all day. ‘Yesterday I saw God. What did he look like? Well, in the afternoon I climbed up a ladder—he has a cheap cabin in the country, like Monroe, N.Y. the chicken farms in the wood. He was a lonely old man with a white beard. ‘I cooked supper for him. I made him a nice supper—lentil soup, vegetables, bread & butter—miltz—he sat down at the table and ate, he was sad. ‘I told him, Look at all those fightings and killings down there, What’s the matter? Why don’t you put a stop to it? ‘I try, he said—That’s all he could do, he looked tired. He’s a bachelor so long, and he likes lentil

soup.’ Serving me meanwhile, a plate of cold fish—chopped raw cabbage dript with tapwater—smelly tomatoes—week-old health food—grated beets & carrots with leaky juice, warm—more and more disconsolate food—I can’t eat it for nausea sometimes—the Charity of her hands stinking with Manhattan, madness, desire to please me, cold undercooked fish—pale red near the bones. Her smells—and oft naked in the room, so that I stare ahead, or turn a book ignoring her. One time I thought she was trying to make me come lay her—flirting to herself at sink—lay back on huge bed that filled most of the room, dress up round her hips, big slash of hair, scars of operations, pancreas, belly wounds, abortions, appendix, stitching of incisions pulling down in the fat like hideous thick zippers—ragged long lips between her legs—What, even, smell of asshole? I was cold—later revolted a little, not much—seemed perhaps a good idea to try—know the Monster of the Beginning Womb—Perhaps—that way. Would she care? She needs a lover. Yisborach, v’yistabach, v’yispoar, v’yisroman, v’yisnaseh, v’yishador, v’yishalleh, v’yishallol, sh’meh d’kudsho, b’rich hu. And Louis reestablishing himself in Paterson grimy apartment in negro district—living in dark rooms—but found himself a girl he later married, falling in love again—tho sere & shy—hurt with 20 years Naomi’s mad idealism. Once I came home, after longtime in N.Y., he’s lonely—sitting in the bedroom, he at desk chair turned round to face me—weeps, tears in red eyes under his glasses— That we’d left him—Gene gone strangely into army—she out on her own in N.Y., almost childish in her furnished room. So Louis walked downtown to postoffice to get mail, taught in highschool—stayed at poetry desk, forlorn—ate grief at Bickford’s all these years—are gone. Eugene got out of the Army, came home changed and lone—cut off his nose in jewish operation—for years stopped girls on Broadway for cups of coffee to get laid—Went to NYU, serious there, to finish Law.— And Gene lived with her, ate naked fishcakes, cheap, while she got crazier—He got thin, or felt helpless, Naomi striking 1920 poses at the moon, half-naked in the next bed. bit his nails and studied—was the weird nurse-son—Next year he moved to a room near Columbia—though she wanted to live with her children— ‘Listen to your mother’s plea, I beg you’—Louis still sending her checks—I was in bughouse that year 8 months—my own visions unmentioned in this here Lament— But then went half mad—Hitler in her room, she saw his mustache in the sink—afraid of Dr. Isaac now, suspecting that he was in on the Newark plot—went up to Bronx to live near Elanor’s Rheumatic Heart— And Uncle Max never got up before noon, tho Naomi at 6 A.M. was listening to the radio for spies—or searching the windowsill, for in the empty lot downstairs, an old man creeps with his bag stuffing packages of garbage in his hanging black overcoat. Max’s sister Edie works—17 years bookkeeper at Gimbels—lived downstairs in apartment house, divorced—so Edie took in Naomi on Rochambeau Ave— Woodlawn Cemetery across the street, vast dale of graves where Poe once—Last stop on Bronx subway—lots of communists in that area. Who enrolled for painting classes at night in Bronx Adult High School—walked alone under Van Cortlandt Elevated line to class—paints Naomiisms— Humans sitting on the grass in some Camp No-Worry summers yore—saints with droopy faces and long-ill-fitting pants, from hospital— Brides in front of Lower East Side with short grooms—lost El trains running over the Babylonian apartment rooftops in the Bronx— Sad paintings—but she expressed herself. Her mandolin gone, all strings broke in her head, she tried. Toward Beauty? or some old life Message? But started kicking Elanor, and Elanor had heart trouble—came upstairs and asked her about Spydom for hours,—Elanor frazzled. Max away at office, accounting for cigar stores till at night. ‘I am a great woman—am truly a beautiful soul—and because of that they (Hitler, Grandma, Hearst, the Capitalists, Franco, Daily News, the ’20s, Mussolini, the living

dead) want to shut me up—Buba’s the head of a spider network—’ Kicking the girls, Edie & Elanor—Woke Edie at midnite to tell her she was a spy and Elanor a rat. Edie worked all day and couldn’t take it—She was organizing the union.—And Elanor began dying, upstairs in bed. The relatives call me up, she’s getting worse—I was the only one left—Went on the subway with Eugene to see her, ate stale fish— ‘My sister whispers in the radio—Louis must be in the apartment—his mother tells him what to say—LIARS!—I cooked for my two children—I played the mandolin—’ Last night the nightingale woke me / Last night when all was still / it sang in the golden moonlight / from on the wintry hill. She did. I pushed her against the door and shouted ‘DON’T KICK ELANOR!’—she stared at me—Contempt—die—disbelief her sons are so naive, so dumb—‘Elanor is the worst spy! She’s taking orders!’ ‘—No wires in the room!’—I’m yelling at her—last ditch, Eugene listening on the bed—what can he do to escape that fatal Mama—‘You’ve been away from Louis years already—Grandma’s too old to walk—’ We’re all alive at once then—even me & Gene & Naomi in one mythological Cousinesque room—screaming at each other in the Forever—I in Columbia jacket, she half undressed. I banging against her head which saw Radios, Sticks, Hitlers—the gamut of Hallucinations—for real—her own universe—no road that goes elsewhere—to my own—No America, not even a world— That you go as all men, as Van Gogh, as mad Hannah, all the same—to the last doom—Thunder, Spirits, lightning! I’ve seen your grave! O strange Naomi! My own—cracked grave! Shema Y’Israel—I am Svul Avrum—you—in death? Your last night in the darkness of the Bronx—I phonecalled—thru hospital to secret police that came, when you and I were alone, shrieking at Elanor in my ear—who breathed hard in her own bed, got thin— Nor will forget, the doorknock, at your fright of spies,—Law advancing, on my honor—Eternity entering the room—you running to the bathroom undressed, hiding in protest from the last heroic fate— staring at my eyes, betrayed—the final cops of madness rescuing me—from your foot against the broken heart of Elanor, your voice at Edie weary of Gimbels coming home to broken radio—and Louis needing a poor divorce, he wants to get married soon—Eugene dreaming, hiding at 125 St., suing negroes for money on crud furniture, defending black girls— Protests from the bathroom—Said you were sane—dressing in a cotton robe, your shoes, then new, your purse and newspaper clippingsno—your honesty— as you vainly made your lips more real with lipstick, looking in the mirror to see if the Insanity was Me or a earful of police. or Grandma spying at 78—Your vision—Her climbing over the walls of the cemetery with political kidnapper’s bag—or what you saw on the walls of the Bronx, in pink nightgown at midnight, staring out the window on the empty lot— Ah Rochambeau Ave.—Playground of Phantoms—last apartment in the Bronx for spies—last home for Elanor or Naomi, here these communist sisters lost their revolution— ‘All right—put on your coat Mrs.—let’s go—We have the wagon downstairs—you want to come with her to the station?’ The ride then—held Naomi’s hand, and held her head to my breast, I’m taller—kissed her and said I did it for the best—Elanor sick—and Max with heart condition—Needs— To me—‘Why did you do this?’—‘Yes Mrs., your son will have to leave you in an hour’—The Ambulance came in a few hours—drove off at 4 A.M. to some Bellevue in the night downtown—gone to the hospital forever. I saw her led away—she waved, tears in her eyes. Two years, after a trip to Mexico—bleak in the flat plain near Brentwood, scrub brush and grass around the unused RR train track to the crazyhouse— new brick 20 story central building—lost on the vast lawns of madtown on Long Island—huge cities of the moon. Asylum spreads out giant wings above the path to a minute black hole—the door—entrance thru crotch— I went in—smelt funny—the halls again—up elevator—to a glass door on a Women’s Ward—to Naomi—Two nurses buxom white—They led her out, Naomi

stared—and I gaspt—She’d had a stroke— Too thin, shrunk on her bones—age come to Naomi—now broken into white hair—loose dress on her skeleton—face sunk, old! withered—cheek of crone— One hand stiff—heaviness of forties & menopause reduced by one heart stroke, lame now—wrinkles—a scar on her head, the lobotomy—ruin, the hand dipping downwards to death— O Russian faced, woman on the grass, your long black hair is crowned with flowers, the mandolin is on your knees— Communist beauty, sit here married in the summer among daisies, promised happiness at hand— holy mother, now you smile on your love, your world is born anew, children run naked in the field spotted with dandelions, they eat in the plum tree grove at the end of the meadow and find a cabin where a white-haired negro teaches the mystery of his rainbarrel— blessed daughter come to America, I long to hear your voice again, remembering your mother’s music, in the Song of the Natural Front— O glorious muse that bore me from the womb, gave suck first mystic life & taught me talk and music, from whose pained head I first took Vision— Tortured and beaten in the skull—What mad hallucinations of the damned that drive me out of my own skull to seek Eternity till I find Peace for Thee, O Poetry—and for all humankind call on the Origin Death which is the mother of the universe!—Now wear your nakedness forever, white flowers in your hair, your marriage sealed behind the sky—no revolution might destroy that maidenhood— O beautiful Garbo of my Karma—all photographs from 1920 in Camp Nicht-Gedeiget here unchanged—with all the teachers from Vewark—Nor Elanor be gone, nor Max await his specter—nor Louis retire from this High School— Back! You! Naomi! Skull on you! Gaunt immortality and revolution come—small broken woman—the ashen indoor eyes of hospitals, ward grayness on skin— ‘Are you a spy?’ I sat at the sour table, eyes filling with tears—‘Who are you? Did Louis send you?—The wires—’ in her hair, as she beat on her head—‘I’m not a bad girl—don’t murder me!—I hear the ceiling—I raised two children—’ Two years since I’d been there—I started to cry—She stared—nurse broke up the meeting a moment—I went into the bathroom to hide, against the toilet white walls ‘The Horror’ I weeping—to see her again—‘The Horror’—as if she were dead thru funeral rot in—‘The Horror!’ I came back she yelled more—they led her away—‘You’re not Allen—’ I watched her face—but she passed by me, not looking— Opened the door to the ward,—she went thru without a glance back, quiet suddenly—I stared out—she looked old—the verge of the grave—‘All the Horror!’ Another year, I left N.Y.—on West Coast in Berkeley cottage dreamed of her soul—that, thru life, in what form it stood in that body, ashen or manic, gone beyond joy— near its death—with eyes—was my own love in its form, the Naomi, my mother on earth still—sent her long letter—& wrote hymns to the mad—Work of the merciful Lord of Poetry. that causes the broken grass to be green, or the rock to break in grass—or the Sun to be constant to earth—Sun of all sunflowers and days on bright iron bridges—what shines on old hospitals—as on my yard— Returning from San Francisco one night, Orlovsky in my room—Whalen in his peaceful chair—a telegram from Gene, Naomi dead— Outside I bent my head to the ground under the bushes near the garage—knew she was better— at last—not left to look on Earth alone—2 years of solitude—no one, at age nearing 60—old woman of skulls—once long-tressed Naomi of Bible— or Ruth who wept in America—Rebecca aged in Newark—David remembering his Harp, now lawyer at Yale or Srul Avrum—Israel Abraham—myself—to sing in the wilderness toward God—O Elohim!—so to the end—2 days after her death I got her letter— Strange Prophecies anew! She wrote—‘The key is in the window, the key is in the sunlight at the window—I have the key—Get married Allen don’t take drugs—the key is in the bars, in the sunlight in the window. Love, your mother’ which is Naomi— Hymmnn In the world which He has created according to his will Blessed Praised Magnified Lauded

Exalted the Name of the Holy One Blessed is He! In the house in Newark Blessed is He! In the madhouse Blessed is He! In the house of Death Blessed is He! Blessed be He in homosexuality! Blessed be He in Paranoia! Blessed be He in the city! Blessed be He in the Book! Blessed be He who dwells in the shadow! Blessed be He! Blessed be He! Blessed be you Naomi in tears! Blessed be you Naomi in fears! Blessed Blessed Blessed in sickness! Blessed be you Naomi in Hospitals! Blessed be you Naomi in solitude! Blest be your triumph! Blest be your bars! Blest be your last years’ loneliness! Blest be your failure! Best be your stroke! Blest be the close of your eye! Blest be the gaunt of your cheek! Blest be your withered thighs! Blessed be Thee Naomi in Death! Blessed be Death! Blessed be Death! Blessed be He Who leads all sorrow to Heaven! Blessed be He in the end! Blessed be He who builds Heaven in Darkness! Blessed Blessed Blessed be He! Blessed be He! Blessed be Death on us All! III Only to have not forgotten the beginning in which she drank cheap sodas in the morgues of Newark, only to have seen her weeping on gray tables in long wards of her universe only to have known the weird ideas of Hitler at the door, the wires in her head, the three big sticks rammed down her back, the voices in the ceiling shrieking out her ugly early lays for 30 years, only to have seen the time-jumps, memory lapse, the crash of wars, the roar and silence of a vast electric shock, only to have seen her painting crude pictures of Elevateds running over the rooftops of the Bronx her brothers dead in Riverside or Russia, her lone in Long Island writing a last letter—and her image in the sunlight at the window ‘The key is in the sunlight at the window in the bars the key is in the sunlight,’ only to have come to that dark night on iron bed by stroke when the sun gone down on Long Island and the vast Atlantic roars outside the great call of Being to its own to come back out of the Nightmare—divided creation—with her head lain on a pillow of the hospital to die —in one last glimpse—all Earth one everlasting Light in the familiar black-out—no tears for this vision— But that the key should be left behind—at the window—the key in the sunlight—to the living—that can take that slice of light in hand—and turn the door—and look back see Creation glistening backwards to the same grave, size of universe, size of the tick of the hospital's clock on the archway over the white door— IV O mother what have I left out O mother what have I forgotten O mother farewell with a long black shoe farewell with Communist Party and a broken stocking farewell with six dark hairs on the wen of your breast farewell with your old dress and a long black beard around the vagina farewell with your sagging belly with your fear of Hitler with your mouth of bad short stories with your fingers of rotten mandolins with your arms of fat Paterson porches with your belly of strikes and smokestacks with your chin of Trotsky and the Spanish War with your voice singing for the decaying overbroken workers with your nose of bad lay with your nose of the smell of the pickles of Newark with your eyes with your eyes of Russia with your eyes of no money with your eyes of false China with your eyes of Aunt Elanor with your eyes of starving India with your eyes pissing in the park with your eyes of America taking a fall with your eyes of your failure at the piano with your eyes of your relatives in California with your eyes of Ma Rainey dying in an aumbulance with your eyes of Czechoslovakia attacked by robots with your eyes going to painting class at night in the Bronx with your eyes of the killer Grandma you see on the horizon from the Fire-Escape with your eyes running naked out of the apartment screaming into the hall with your eyes being led away by policemen to an aumbulance with your eyes strapped down on the operating table with your eyes with the pancreas removed with your eyes of appendix operation with your eyes of abortion with your eyes of ovaries removed with your eyes of shock with your

eyes of lobotomy with your eyes of divorce with your eyes of stroke with your eyes alone with your eyes with your eyes with your Death full of Flowers V Caw caw caw crows shriek in the white sun over grave stones in Long Island Lord Lord Lord Naomi underneath this grass my halflife and my own as hers caw caw my eye be buried in the same Ground where I stand in Angel Lord Lord great Eye that stares on All and moves in a black cloud caw caw strange cry of Beings flung up into sky over the waving trees Lord Lord O Grinder of giant Beyonds my voice in a boundless field in Sheol Caw caw the call of Time rent out of foot and wing an instant in the universe Lord Lord an echo in the sky the wind through ragged leaves the roar of memory caw caw all years my birth a dream caw caw New York the bus the broken shoe the vast highschool caw caw all Visions of the Lord Lord Lord Lord caw caw caw Lord Lord Lord caw caw caw Lord Paris, December 1957—New York, 1959

#im a collector im a maniac #poetry #not mine

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ficmylife4 · 4 years ago

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Back to the Future Wild Theories

After my breakdown post of how I viewed the timelines and events of Back to the Future in a previous post here, this is my post about the awful implications, though I do try to find a bright possibility at the end!

First, when Marty 1 arrives in Timeline 2 and witnesses Doc 2 get shot in his bulletproof vest and Marty 2 gets into the Delorean...when does Marty 2 go? If everything was the same, he’d go back to Timeline 2 1955, because Timeline 2 is his point of origin so that’s the line he’s traveling back to. So he’d go back to when Young Marty 1 is first trying to get George and Lorraine together. If Marty 2 spots Marty 1 and figures out he shouldn’t change anything so he can go back to where he came from, Timeline 2 1985--then he should arrive to Marty 1 having taken over his life! Two Martys exist and always will, because they can only move along the timeline even as it changes course, one can’t go to one version and the other jump to another. That other timeline no longer exists.

Now the horribleness. You were warned.

Doc 2 knew Marty 1 and went through his friendship with Marty 2 knowing he would succeed in building the Delorean. So he had forewarning not to set the Delorean time to 1955 or else younger Doc 2 would end up with Marty 1 and Marty 2 both in 1955 trying not to mess up their parents and much more in danger of wiping out their existences. Does Doc set the default time to 1255 Middle Ages, where there is little chance Marty 2 could have enough of an effect for it to last on the timeline? No one would believe him, he’d have no tools or even books to try to charge the Delorean, and he’d probably die young from the lacking medicine, sanitation, food if he can’t figure out how to hunt or any skills for work. Doc 2 condemned Marty 2 to a miserable death centuries from any of the people he loved, alone and unprepared, without even indoor plumbing, just to get him out of the way so there would be only one Marty around.

Alternatively, if Doc trusted Marty could keep his head down, he could be trusted around a society with flush toilets. So he sets the date far into the future instead of the past. Nothing Marty 2 does then would affect the timelines when Doc 2 and Marty 1 are living. But in a totally different time and society and life and its amenities unrecognizable and with everyone he loves long dead, Marty 2 might act rashly like try to tell other scientists about time travel to ask them to fix the Delorean, and with the secret of time travel out who knows who would do what and the final Timeline result. So what if Doc puts Marty 2 in a future time, but not so far his family is dead or he won’t be able to at least recognize things. If Doc impressed on him how important not revealing himself is to the space-time continuum and stability of the universe, and Doc 2 offered him fake IDs and background so he could grow up and live his life--starting from 2005. Maybe Doc 2 could even get something to make him look different and his ward/student/adopted son/visiting cousin could stop by the McFly house with him sometimes. Or maybe Marty 2 would want a clean start and live a life in another town, only occasionally checking in on his family, and aching as he watches Marty 1 and Jennifer 2 together, established adults with young children while he’s a teenager.

If Marty 2 does go to 2005 and start a new life, he would be there in 2015 when Old Biff 2 steals the time machine and changes the timeline. Would Marty 2 be wiped out when the 2015 Timeline 2 he’s in is ended? Like Jennifer 2 being left in Timeline 3 1985 and still being there when Marty 1 gets back to Timeline 2 1985 from the 1880s, I think the timeline would instead warp around Marty 2 so at least his existence wouldn’t end. But I wonder if he would retain all the memories, so he’d be aware of the changes? First when Biff 2 created Timeline 3 and then when Marty 1 at the end of Part III film is left to create a brighter future without the car accident.

With Timeline 1 inaccessible, it seemed only difficult endings were left when Marty 1 and Marty 2 had to both exist but only one family remained, so one was losing their normal life in 1985 no matter what. The only possibility I could think to avoid that is a little out there but my background is fantasy not science fiction so watch me:

Matter is not created or destroyed, only altered. In the first movie, Marty 1 fades away with his timeline when George McFly becomes a more assertive person who would make different choices. But Marty 1 pops back up again to play the guitar. Why? He was fading when any Marty McFly wasn’t going to be born, but even though George was creating Timeline 2 and Timeline 1 as fading, there was now going to be a Mart McFly. So what if Marty 1 and Marty 2 merged at that point. Marty 2 takes off from the Lone Pine Mall parking lot and arrives where Marty 1 is in 1955. And there’s crossover between them, two bodies of the same age and same moment and same genetics, and we saw Marty 1 pale and cramping and falling to the ground, his hand becoming transparent, his body was clearly going through something. Somehow a merge. Human brains are incredibly complicated and data contained in every engram, so lots of people talk about how much people know that they don’t know, it’s there in their heads but they can’t consciously recall it or have pathways developed to bring it forward easily. What is when the Martys merge, Marty 1 because he had to be working with George and was most active was the predominant memories, while Marty 2 was in shock from time travel and thinking he saw Doc die, but really the final Marty there at the dance had all of the memories encoded in his brain after the crossover? Marty (1) returns to Timeline 2 1985 and sees Marty 2 leaving in the Delorean, and he’s left there to live the life in Timeline 2. And slowly he comes to realize he’s more comfortable than expected, things are more familiar, until he recalls what he needs and remembers growing up in Timeline 2 too. So a happy Marty comfortable in his place and no displaced or lonely Marty stuck anywhere else.

#back to the future #time travel #marty mcfly

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buckyisabigmood · 4 years ago

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Basic Character Questions

First name? Hera

Surname? Kane (Murphy?)

Middle names? Lee

Nicknames? (Murphy?)

Date of birth? 9/24/02

Age? 18

Physical / Appearance

Height? 5'6"

Weight? 125lbs

Build? thin, muscular

Hair colour? dark brown, curly

Hair style? bun

Eye colour? grey

Eye Shape? almond

Glasses or contact lenses? reading glasses, night glasses

Distinguishing facial features? n/a

Which facial feature is most prominent? nose

Which bodily feature is most prominent? hair

Other distinguishing features? height

Skin? fair, tanning

Hands? average

Make up? occasional; sharp cat eye, foundation, dark lips, blush, dark eyeshadow

Scars? inner left bicep, mid back across spine, right wrist

Birthmarks? oval inside of right knee

Tattoos? various across entire body

Physical handicaps? bad right hip, fibromyalgia, migraines, chronic fatigue, overall worn joints

Type of clothes? men's button ups, men's dress clothes, vintage men's and women's attire

How do they wear their clothes? tucked in, loose fitting

What are their feet like? (type of shoes, state of shoes, socks, feet, pristine, dirty, worn, etc) callused feet, hammer toes. men's shoes, 6in heels, oxfords, good quality

Race / Ethnicity? caucasian, Irish heritage

Mannerisms? leg bouncing, lip biting, sitting with leg propped, limp on right side

Are they in good health? no

Do they have any disabilities? not legally

Personality

What words or phrases do they overuse? like, probably, uh, I mean

Do they have a catchphrase? indeed

Are they more optimistic or pessimistic? pessimist, though tries to encourage optimism in others

Are they introverted or extroverted? ambivert

Do they ever put on airs? no

What bad habits do they have? zoning out, talking too fast, not sleeping, not eating enough, binge eating

What makes them laugh out loud? whose line, crush flattering them

How do they display affection? compliments, affectionate touches, mock insults

Mental handicaps? depression, anxiety, overthinking, slight adhd

How do they want to be seen by others? strong, confident, capable, protector

How do they see themselves? crippled, broken, worthless, challenged

How are they seen by others? stubborn, loud, capable, caring

Strongest character trait? unforgiving

Weakest character trait? impatience

How competitive are they? very

Do they make snap judgements or take time to consider? impulsive

How do they react to praise? hide away, deny it

How do they react to criticism? shamed, crying

What is their greatest fear? secrets being discovered

What are their biggest secrets? they are polyromantic greysexual, a feminist, have long term online friends, (hopefully) will soon be dating a woman, is an independent

What is their philosophy of life? do no harm but take no shit

When was the last time they cried? a week ago, having a mental breakdown

What haunts them? inevitability to disappoint their family and be disowned

What are their political views? independent, leaning left

What will they stand up for? the treatment of others

Who do they quote? carrie fisher, hozier, brie larson

Are they indoorsy or outdoorsy? both

What is their sinful little habit? listening/watching 'none christian' things

What sense do they most rely on? hearing

How do they treat people better than them? respect, positivity, optimism

How do they treat people worse than them? assuming the worst, judging, sarcasm

What quality do they most value in a friend? loyalty

What do they consider an overrated virtue? prudence

If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be? physical strength

What is their obsession? swords, women

What are their pet peeves? incorrect animal care, being talked down to, loud chewing

What are their idiosyncrasies? doors must always be closed and locked, gets up two hours earlier than needed, will fall asleep if reading on the computer

Friends and Family

Is their family big or small? Who does it consist of? big; mother, father, five older brothers, two older sisters, one younger sister, three nephews, two nieces, four aunts, five uncles, many cousins, two grandmothers, one grandfather

What is their perception of family? overrated; the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb

Do they have siblings? Older or younger? 8 siblings; five older brothers, two older sisters, one younger sister

Describe their best friend. the same as them. fight more than flight, major physical problems, mentally worn out, respect is given until proven undeserved, funny, caring, heart over head

Ideal best friend? see; best friend

Describe their other friends. overall kind, caring, considerate, musically talented, loud

Describe their acquaintances. annoyances, loud, bubbly, hyperactive

Do they have any pets? one dog, two horses, six sheep, many chickens, many snakes

Who are their natural allies? minorities, protectors, those who need protecting

Who are their surprising allies? church youth, some police, nurses

Past and Future

What was your character like as a baby? As a child? easygoing as a baby, wanting attention and to be part of older siblings' group as child

Did they grow up rich or poor? lower-middle class, wanting some but getting few

Did they grow up nurtured or neglected? nurtured physically, neglected emotionally

What is the most offensive thing they ever said? 'it is disgusting gay people can adopt' (a lie)

What is their greatest achievement? having the courage to come out to online friends

What was their first kiss like? n/a has not kissed anyone

What is the worst thing they did to someone they loved? thoughts of abandoning family

What are their ambitions? to marry someone they love, have a self built farm, foster teenagers, be a freelance artist

What advice would they give their younger self? don't give up, you are not an abomination for being attracted to women, do not tell youth leader about suicidal thoughts

What smells remind them of their childhood? homemade pizza, pines, dogs

What was their childhood ambition? to be a veterinarian

What is their best childhood memory? being with older siblings and hanging out with their friends

What is their worst childhood memory? figuring out they were polyromantic, the fear of being found out and disowned

Did they have an imaginary childhood friend? n/a

What past act are they most proud of? talking to other kids first

Has anyone ever saved their life? doctors; had major kindey infection at age of two, had major uti at age of eight

Strongest childhood memory? disappointing parents

Love

Do they believe in love at first sight? infatuation at first side, that may develop in to love

Are they in a relationship? working on asking a woman out

How do they behave in a relationship? caring, prioritizing spouse, lots of gifts

When did you character last have sex?

n/a, does not desire sex

What sort of sex do they have? n/a

Has your character ever been in love? currently in love

Have they ever had their heart broken? no. has ghosted a fuckboy and thought they had broken his heart

Conflict

How do they respond to a threat? defensive, posturing, threatening

Are they most likely to fight with their fists or their tongue? fists

What is your character’s kryptonite? children, sob stories

If your character could only save one thing from their burning house, what would it be? electronics

How do they perceive strangers? men are possible threats, women are in danger

What do they love to hate? disney villains

What are their phobias? aquaphobia, entomophobia, atychiphobia

What is their choice of weapon? longsword

What living person do they most despise? larry nassar

Have they ever been bullied or teased? yes

Where do they go when they’re angry? bathroom, bedroom, outside

Who are their enemies and why? n/a, enemies are unknown

Work, Education and Hobbies

What is their current job? apprentice horse trainer and farm hand

What do they think about their current job? too physically taxing, worsens already poor physical condition

What are some of their past jobs? n/a

What are their hobbies? reading, writing, drawing, video games, research on medieval times, watching tv, movies, youtube

Educational background? homeschooled highschool graduate

Intelligence level? low, cannot do simple math, does not know history

Do they have any specialist training? n/a

Do they have a natural talent for something? art, slightly

Do they play a sport? Are they any good? equestrian sports, intermediate

What is their socioeconomic status? low social status, seen as unlikeable, n/a economic status

Favourites

What is their favourite animal? wolves

Which animal to they dislike the most? insects

What place would they most like to visit? mountains of utah

What is the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen? mountains

What is their favourite song? in a week by hozier

Music, art, reading preferred? alternative, metal, emo music. realistic, stylised, comic-esque art. fantasy, medieval, adventure, action books.

What is their favourite colour? black, blood red

What is their password? "I love you for who you are"

Favourite food? steak, homemade rolls, pizza, salad

What is their favourite work of art? women with umbrellas, reunited

Who is their favourite artist? mambo

What is their favourite day of the week? friday

Possessions

What is in their fridge? frozen pizzas, salad stuff, soda, beer, snacks

What is on their bedside table? mace, a notebook and pen, phone, cologne, empty cans

What is in their car? mask, air freshener, large knife, window breaker, charger

What is in their bin? candy wrappers, cans, bottles

What is in their purse or wallet? pepper spray, bible, book, keys, pen, pencil, mints

What is in their pockets? knife, carmex

What is their most treasured possession? their truck

Spirituality

Who or what is your character’s guardian angel? Gabriel

Do they believe in the afterlife? Yes

What are their religious views? non-denominational Christianity

What do they think heaven is? where there is no pain, or hurt, where you can be with your loved ones (including pets) for eternity without getting tired of their company

What do they think hell is? suffering, eternal torment, both physical and psychological pain

Are they superstitious? no

What would they like to be reincarnated as? a sandcat

How would they like to die? by sword

What is your character’s spirit animal? house cat

What is their zodiac sign? libra

Values

What do they think is the worst thing that can be done to a person? rape, mutilation, taking away loved ones

What is their view of ‘freedom’? being able to do as you like, as long as it does not harm others

When did they last lie? earlier in the day

What’s their view of lying? not necessarily good, but needed on some occasions for safety

When did they last make a promise? tonight, promising to get a full night's sleep

Did they keep or break their last promise? break it

Daily life

What are their eating habits? hectic- binge eating one day and eating nothing the next. usually eating on impulse rather than specific times

Do they have any allergies? lactose, sulfa

Describe their home. medium sized, lots of storage space, including many closets. an organized mess, knowing where everything is exactly without putting it away, unless it is clothing

Are they minimalist or a clutter hoarder? somewhere in the middle, though leaning towards clutter hoarder. loves collecting shot glasses

What do they do first thing on a weekday morning? get dressed, feed the animals, have breakfast

What do they do on a Sunday afternoon? eat pizza, hang out with friends or family, watch a movie

What do they do on a Friday night? drink with friends at home, hang out

What is the soft drink of choice? dr pepper

What is their alcoholic drink of choice? whiskey

Miscellaneous

What is their character archetype? The Trickster

Who is their hero? Gal Gadot, Gideon the Ninth

What or who would your character dress up as for Halloween? Gideon the Ninth

Are they comfortable with technology? somewhat

If they could save one person, who would it be? Hozier

If they could call one person for help, who would it be? best friend

What is their favourite proverb? the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb

What is their greatest extravagance? clothes

What is their greatest regret? not being who their parents wanted them to be

What is their perception of redemption? if you truly change and do your best, most everything is redeemable, but there are some things which can never be forgiven

What would they do if they won the lottery? buy a cottage, clothes, animals, and put some into savings

What is their favourite fairytale? the three bears, by robert southey

What fairytale do they hate? the little mermaid (original)

Do they believe in happy endings? yes

What is their idea of perfect happiness? being loved, loving others, and being content with what you have

What would they ask a fortune teller? will they find a spouse who loves them wholeheartedly?

If your character could travel through time, where would they go? the 1830s, dressed as a man and supporting women, whom know they are a women themselves

What sport do they excel at? n/a

What sport do they suck at? all. unable to do physical sports

If they could have a superpower, what would they choose? super strength

#character sheet #but like #me #I'm the character #some of it is for my current situation #and some is what I hope to happen in the future #not gonna tell you what parts what tho

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pigtailedgirl · 4 years ago

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Cobra Kai LOVE

So I finally got to watch all of Cobra Kai after loving the first two free episodes on Youtube but not affording it or having access til Netflix.

Dad and I nostalgia tripped it together and it's so good and it was also a great little family thing to do for us, since we always watched the movies as a family and are missing Mom, and I cried (there were some moments in season 2 especially hard) and laughed and we both loved it and I can't wait for season 3.

What can you say about a show that picks up 30 years after a properties heyday and kills as a tie-in! That honours the themes, and even better the cheese and feelings of the originals. Be it kick-ass karate, 80s style and music, the over the top plotting, and the profound kinda searching for inner life peace mixed with silly karate moves or metaphors and longing for Dad guidance.

I absolutely adore Johnny, who is by no means a perfect person. He's a stunted functional alcoholic who reopens his best part of his life, he tragically peaked in high-school (Christ!), for the best intentioned reasons, not realizing until committing the same mistakes how toxic it was the first go round.

Daniel. Oh you sweet fucking it up-ward man. Every movie was Miyagi having to help you pull your hot head out of your own ass because you were desperate to earn inner acceptance through outer validation and he's not around to do it anymore and you sweet pea think you've got it figured out, that you can give it to kids or protect them from the bullying toxicity of the way that high-school and a loss of place moving to California and Cobra Kai did you in, but you just keep jumping from victim to projecting and anticipating victim-hood and responding against Miyagi's first lesson, learn karate so you don't have to use it to fight.

It's sad and beautiful that these two are twinned and stuck in their pasts. Man-children in their 50s still trying to grow up (And figure out technology in Johnny's case LOL) hurting their future generation.

The teen themes are great.

Teen Breakdown of S1 & S2

The beginning popular crowd being easy and simple bullies. Morphing in Season 2 as both Cobra Kai and Demetri, Robbie and Sam trade off with Hawk and Tory on are we the bullied or the bullies all at once. Free for all high-school fight!

Aisha and Miguel represent the honesty of strength of self and confidence in finding themselves and their voice in Cobra Kai.

Hawk and Demitri, of using a newfound self to bully or staying safe to play victim.

Robbie as the growth from getting respect and guidance from Miyagi karate and Daniel, being the truest student, to the heartbreaking reality it doesn't mean you still don't crave wanting to be declared ultimate right or winner and fuck yourself over with your past issues.

As Miguel does the twin tango with him in having innate respectability and good moral guidance, even passing it to Johnny, but slipping into loss at the karate finals, mentally giving into loss of morality being violent to show his strength and losing himself and his GF, and physically when he's hurt (please be just hurt) defending the good guidance of mercy and stopping fighting.

But yeah, I could do essays on all the teens.

Then there's Sam, Daniel 's daughter. Robbie's mirror student and Aisha should be her foil but I fear based on a rumour and the way of season 2, they went with the easier and show attractive rival GF Tory. Samantha Larusso is a problem. She is marked good, to be going the way of Robbie to being the child of the former protagonist that leads into a creation of harmony among the two karate's and teachers/families/philosophies. Instead despite the show sympathizing and trying to identify with her as that role, she's straight up a cause of strife and exhibits neither the good traits of Miyagi karate, or a inner self confident bravado of Cobra Kai. She's almost the bizzaro evil version of a teen Ali, and that guy from the third movie. She thinks she's both victim and bad ass and she's just someone who needs a good dose of someone sitting her down to tell her she's owed or earned either status. And Aisha, the friend she wasted for faux status as a popular pretty girl, as well as her adult parents letting her currently skate responsibilities of teenage dramas and violence, and her suitors, whom she waffles unhealthy betwixt so that they all suffer, are the ones to do it. She doesn't need her ass kicked by Tory, who is a one note character, she needs her mindset toggled by realizing her self-wants aren't priority. Basically grow up, and outta the me mentality.

What's fabulous is the show honoring it's roots in teen drama and life so it's not like the drama is too over the top. How their world revolves around them and their perception of the importance of their wants. Romance. Party. Popularity. Identity.

Leading to the teenage version of power posturing. Bullying. (Which even the adults haven't mastered escape from.)

The high-school pettiness and importance of structure and status and coolness. The different norms of today versus the 80's that are still about wealth, the right looks (cultural or physical), and violence being the forever enforcer. Of course kids will break down along the lines of Cobra Kai and Miyagi karate. Brute correctness or passive acceptance?

Seeking strength and refusing to accept weakness of self builds confidence. Using that strength to physically fight in anything but defense brings a cycle of conflict and violence.

Neither the past nor the present generation ignore the other big life influence of the age. There you have the Daddy or parental abandonment angles.

Johnny's step dad failed him in absentee. Kreese used his position as teacher to abuse him. Johnny failed his kid in absentee. Johnny tries to uses his teacher position with Miguel to fix all these errors. Meanwhile Daniel is over there in the opposite corner with lost his father figure, and then Miyagi taught him respect and guidance and Daniel regained one and clung, and now Daniel is a lost or losing father figure to his own son and daughter, the family unit does not respect him or seek his guide. So he entwines his then teaching Sam and Robbie as a fix.

But does karate fix this shit?

So all these kids they drag in are confounded by the lessons because a step would be stop you yokels and talk or acknowledge what really happened in high-school and with All Valley and Ali and Kreese and Miyagi. And move on.

You won 30 years ago Daniel. Miyagi was a great old man and your teacher and like a Dad but you never had to be the best or have the girl to earn him. You got bullied by Kreese & co, were devalued because you weren't rich or popular in high-school. Some people were dicks. Or worse. Tell the world. You don't have to beat them now and forever to hold to knowing that. Be a happy car salesman and focus on your own kids.

Johnny, 30 years have passed my dude. You were okay with defeat when you gave Daniel that trophy and said he was all right. Cling to that guy, not the jerk with a shitty teacher/Dad, pining for a girl you were in conflict with. And stop reliving the mindset you were the loser in those things ending. You missed out on living with your losses and celebrating the moments between and after. Find a GF. Reconcile with your biological son. Admire and mentor your students of now. Take a lesson from your Miguel and be like the young man you clearly are learning from. You will never be a loser to this kid, you will always be the bad ass who defended him.

Also also, I hilariously crack-ship Daniel/Johnny as a love hate bromance. HEAD GAMES vid it!!

Also, Daniel's wife is a treasure with her snark on the childishness of this karate feud. She the MVP.

And I legit cried with my Dad and the Miyagi grave visit. At the Tommy scenes. At the Miguel voicemail. At the Mrs. Larusso Dad on my shoulder scene.

And you can't not laugh at dick billboard.

#cobra kai #season 1 & 2 spoilers #new show to love

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ao3feed-lokiangst · 5 years ago

Text

50 Shades of Tony

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2DtAKfO

by Virodeil

Tony chooses to think differently, see the little details, in the aftermath of the Battle of New York. The arc reactor in his chest is failing for the second time, at that. These, coupled together, sees him pelting down quite a different road than what anyone expects, including himself. An alien family, a pre-made romance, some inherited species change… oh, my!

Words: 1316, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Iron Man (Movies), Thor (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Incredible Hulk (2008), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M, Gen, Other

Characters: Other Character Tags to Be Added, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Jarvis (Iron Man movies), Peter Parker, Original Child Character(s), Laufey (Marvel), Jötnar (Marvel), Nick Fury, SHIELD Agents & Staff, Bruce Banner, Jane Foster (Marvel), Betty Ross, Steve Rogers, Happy Hogan, Helblindi (Marvel), Byleistr (Marvel), Thor (Marvel), Angrboða | Angerboda, Odin (Marvel), Loki (Marvel), Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s), Original Characters, Harry Potter, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanova, Owen Grady, James “Bucky” Barnes, John Hammond

Relationships: Bruce Banner & Tony Stark, Butterfingers & Dummy & Jarvis & Tony Stark & You (Iron Man movies), Helblindi & Tony Stark, Byleistr & Tony Stark, Loki & Tony Stark, Pepper Potts & Tony Stark, Laufey & Tony Stark, Nick Fury & Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Avengers Team, Tony Stark & Happy Hogan, Tony Stark & Original Character(s), Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Thor, James “Bucky” Barnes & Tony Stark, Farbauti/Laufey (Marvel), Bruce Banner/Betty Ross, Various Relationships, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added

Additional Tags: more tags added as we go, Prompt Fic, Drabble Series, Partly in canon, Don’t Have to Know Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Other Fandoms Not Mentioned in Tags, Multiple headcanons, the author did way too much research for this, Changing lives forever, Confusions Abound, Creature Inheritance (sort of), Big-Brother Syndrome SHIELD, Defying Expectation, Broken Preconceptions, Fluffy Flavours, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Needs A Hug, Eventual Happy Ending, POV Tony Stark, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Is Not Helping, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark’s Brand of Language, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Feels, Parent Tony Stark, BAMF Tony Stark, Protective Tony Stark, Protective Jarvis (Iron Man movies), Protective Laufey (Marvel), Protective Siblings, Character Development, character introspection, Character Study, Pet Names, Caring, Developing Friendships, Friendship, Codependency, Quality Time, Cuddling and Snuggling, Domestic, Parent-Child Relationship, Meet the Family, large family, Family, Family Bonding, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Family History, Family Issues, Family Drama, family baggage, Family Secrets, Family Reunions, Family Member Death, Alternate Universe – Twins, Twins, Twin Bond, Age Difference, Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Babies, Children, Children of Characters, Childhood Trauma, Lost child found, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Kid Loki, broken loki, Broken Bucky Barnes, Time Skips, Travel, Baking, Reminiscing, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Contemplation, Contracts, Deals, Conveniently Inconvenient Storms, Conversation, Mystery, Fear, Regret, Separation Anxiety, Minor Character Deaths, Phone Calls, Chatting & Messaging, Letters, Unexpected Visitors, Nudity, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Gender Confusion, Complicated Relationships, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Mistakes, Conflict Management 101, Reconciliation, Redemption, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Reincarnation, Past Lives, Jotunn Tony Stark, Jötunheimr | Jotunheim, Jotunn | Frost Giant, Jotunn Biology (Marvel), Jotunn Physiology, Intersex Jotunn (Marvel), Jotunn Culture, Cross-cultural, Cultural References, Cultural Differences, Cultural Appropriation, Culture Shock, The Nine Realms, Fictional language, Fictional Religion & Theology, Pregnancy, Non-Canon Relationship, mild romance, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Intimacy, Non-Sexual Intimacy, references to sexual content, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Violence, Violent Thoughts, Fate Worse Than Death, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Depression, Dark Past, Past Domestic Violence, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder – PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Psychological Horror, Psychological Drama, Mental Breakdown, Disguise, Secret Identity, hidden identity, Identity Issues, Denial of Feelings, Escapism, Hurt/Comfort, Angst/Drama

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2DtAKfO

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #loki #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe #angst

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scarheaded-ferret · 7 years ago

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Hey my Dude, I was wondering could you write a Drarry Soul mate AU? So when you meet your soulmate you get their first name on your wrist/forearm. Also could you add background pairings ron x Hermione and ginny x Luna? Thanks!

Sorry for the wait!! I love soulmate au’s :^D, here you go my dude (this one is long oof):

Harry stepped up to the small platform in the robes shop, where a young blond boy was getting fitted for what looked like various sets of robes. Harry felt a strange tingly feeling on his wrist as he looked at the boy, that soon spread throughout his body. It kind of felt similar to what he felt when he received his wand. Harry looked down at his wrist to see two words inscribed on it: Draco Malfoy. Harry pouted, it looked like a name. But why was there a name on his wrist?

The young boy on the small platform gasped and Harry looked up into bright grey eyes.

“What’s your name?” The young boy demanded. Harry didn’t really have a good feeling about this, but he told the boy anyway.

“I’m Harry Potter,” He said. The boy’s eyebrows rode up, and a look of fear washed over his face before he ran out of the shop. Harry watched him go, confused by the strange interaction. The woman who was fitting the boy sighed, and told Harry to step up for his own robes. Harry would have to ask Hagrid what the name on his wrist meant.

***

Tears welled in Draco’s eyes as he raced to the wand store his mother was at. It wasn’t Ollivander’s, but rather a smaller, more expensive chain that fixed and restored old and broken wands. He found his mother immediately and tugged on her robes.

“What is it, my darling? What is the matter?” She said, cupping his cheek. Draco shoved his wrist in front of her and her eyes widened. “Oh- oh dear, we mustn’t tell your father. Draco, you mustn’t tell anyone. Do you understand?” She asked, and Draco nodded. She wiped the tears from his face and once they had gathered their things they apparated back home. A house-elf was sent to retrieve Draco’s forgotten robes.

Draco had grown up his whole life hearing about soulmates. The one person who you were destined to love. When you first met them, their name would appear on your wand wrist, revealing the person who were meant to love and be loved by. He had read all the stories as a child, until his father had reprimanded him and told him to read books more fitting for “a boy his age”. Draco had never let the stories leave his heart though, and he constantly had his mother tell him the story of her soulmate.

Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black had met before they could properly hold a wand. They had met at one of the parties hosted for pureblood families, and had remained friends since. They went through the proper courting and got married almost immediately after Hogwarts. A perfect love story.

Yet not every human was a good person, just because they had a soulmate didn’t mean that they stopped being a bad person. Lucius was quick to inform Draco as a child that unless his mate was a pureblood girl from a nice family, he would not marry them. Draco had cried at the thought of being separated from his soulmate, but his mother reminded him that his soulmate probably would be a nice pureblood girl, whom he would love very much.

Draco now sat on his bed, sobbing into his pillow as his mother stroked his back soothingly.

“Father won’t let me marry Harry Potter, won’t he?” Narcissa shook her head sadly and continued to rub Draco’s back.

“It’ll be alright my love, perhaps you and young Harry could simply be friends? Not all soulmates are in romantic relationships,” Draco sniffed and nodded his head. His mind eased by the thought of he and Harry becoming friends. Maybe he could be with his soulmate after all.

***

When Harry showed Hagrid the name on his wrist, Hagrid had chuckled softly and patted the top of Harry’s head.

“Why s’ just yer soulmate, figures you’d get stuck with a Malfoy, but I bet he’ll turn round for yer sake,” Harry was confused. Soulmates were made up, weren’t they? He used to hide behind the couch and watch the movies that Dudley watched if he got the chance, and sometimes they were about soulmates. But apparently in the wizarding world they were very much real, and Hagrid had told him about how every wizard and witch got their soulmate’s name tattooed magically on their wrist when they first met them.

“So this- Draco Malfoy, is my soulmate. Even if it’s a boy?” Harry asked. Hagrid nodded.

“Wizards are a tad more- accepting than muggle folk, no one can control their soulmate, and it’d be rude to keep em’ apart. But some purebloods like to have their children marry for money or a good name” Harry nodded slowly, assimilating this.

“But- if he’s my soulmate, why did he run away?”

Hagrid seemed lost in thought for a moment.

“Ye should ask him that when ye get to Hogwarts. I’m sure he’d be happy that Harry Potter is his soulmate, eh?” Hagrid nudged him and laughed, Harry smiled and dug into his ice cream. He had a soulmate, he thought as he took a bite, a soulmate named Draco Malfoy.

***

Harry had been on the train with Ron when a bushy haired girl stormed into their compartment, asking about some other boy’s lost toad. Ron hadn’t responded, and had dropped the carton of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavoured Beans that he was holding. He pulled down the sleeve of his jumper and gasped at his wrist.

“Are- are you Hermione Granger?” the girl, Hermione, looked at him inquisitively.

“Yes? And you are?” She asked. Suddenly, a confused look ran over her face, and she too looked down at her wrist and gasped.

“I’m Ron Weasley! I think we’re-”

“Soulmates,” she finished for him, beaming as she sat across from Harry and Ron.

“I guess we better get to know each other, I read up on soulmates before I got here, my parents are muggles,” She told him. She then turned to Harry, who was smiling softly at the pair with amusement. “You’re Harry Potter!” she said, looking at his uncovered scar. Harry nodded at Hermione and shook the hand she held out to him.

“Er- nice to meet you,” He told her.

“Have you found your soulmate already, Harry?” She asked. Ron looked at him too, still grinning from the excitement of finding his soulmate.

“Yeah, uh here,” Harry held out his wrist and Ron promptly choked on a bean.

“Draco Malfoy? Oh, that’s rotten luck, the Malfoy’s are a bad sort, all blood purists and snobby,” Harry frowned, he didn’t like to hear his soulmate being insulted, but he trusted Ron more than Malfoy, who he had actually never met. Just then the compartment door opened, and the subject of their conversation peered in.

“It’s true then, Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts,” He smirked at Harry, and his eyes narrowed as they flicked over Ron.

“You- You’re the boy from the robes shop, we’re soulmates,” Harry tried to smile at him.

“Yes,” Malfoy agreed. He stuck out his hand, “I think as soulmates, we should be friends, you wouldn’t want to be with the wrong sort now,” Malfoy said, glancing distastefully at both Ron and Hermione. Harry became angry at that, these were his first friends and Malfoy was insulting them. Soulmate or not, it wasn’t right.

“I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks,” He said, and winced as hurt took over Malfoy’s face.

“Fine then, should’ve known you’d be a lousy soulmate anyhow, Potter,” Draco spat. With that Draco strode out of the compartment, two large boys following close behind. Harry never did get to ask him why he ran away.

***

Their rivalry continued throughout the years, both choosing to ignore the fact that they were soulmates. It was his 4th year and Harry was thinking of someone to ask to the yule ball. He approached Ginny, but found she was going with Luna Lovegood, a Ravenclaw in his year and Ginny’s soulmate. Harry was happy for Ron’s little sister, but couldn’t help the flash of disappointment in being denied a date. He ended up going alone to the yule ball, and though Ron and Hermione made sure that they spent most of their time with him and not just each other, he couldn’t help but feeling a pang of loneliness.

He glared at Malfoy, who was spinning Pansy Parkinson around gracefully, his blond hair wasn’t slicked back, but fell in loose strands that framed his face elegantly. Harry just wished that he had a soulmate who could actually love him, not one who insulted his friends and had tried to ruin his life on multiple occasions. Not many knew that they were soulmates, for neither Draco or Harry were eager to tell others. Harry just wished that Malfoy could actually love him.

***

It was his 6th year, and Draco sobbed into his arms as he curled into himself tightly in the hospital wing. Potter, his supposed soulmate, had just torn him open- on purpose. Draco couldn’t help but pine towards the Gryffindor throughout his years at Hogwarts. He knew that after his mistake on the train, that Potter would never be his friend. So Draco took to trying to get a rise out of Potter every chance he could, just to see his reaction.

Two days ago, however, he had just wanted Potter to leave. Draco’s home had been overtaken by that monster, and his parents could be killed any day now. Not that Draco cared too much about his father. Only his mother, yet, if his father wasn’t there, there wouldn’t be anyone to protect her. The bloody cabinet he was supposed to fix wasn’t working, and the last thing he needed was Potter barging in and disrupting his breakdown.

The pain he felt as Potter slashed his chest open had been more than physical. It proved that his soulmate hated him, that there wasn’t anyone out there meant to love him. And it hurt. Draco cried himself to sleep in the hospital bed that night, luckily there were no other occupants in the wing with him, so there was no one to disturb him.

Draco woke the next morning to feel a pressure around his hand. He jolted up and looked down to see his pale fingers entwined with darker ones. His eyes followed up along the arm of what could only be Harry Potter, and was met with the Gryffindor’s sleeping form. His glasses were askew and his hair was a mess, but then again, it always was like that.

Draco slowly extracted his hand and rolled over, pretending that it had never happened. He must still be woozy from the pain potions, or maybe he was dreaming. Draco pinched himself and looked behind him, but Potter was still there.

Draco turned back round and closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep, hoping that Potter would leave before he would wake up. Draco was confused. Why was Potter holding his hand? They were soulmates but- Potter hated him. Maybe the bloody git feels guilty for treating you like a practice board for a Diffindo charm. That was a pretty likely option for Potter, who Draco had watched throughout his teen years. It’s just guilt, his hand probably fell or something, and it just ended up that way. Yes, that seemed like a more logical option for Draco, and he fell asleep once more.

When he woke up, Potter was thankfully gone and Snape had come for him.

***

Harry winced as he was pushed to the ground in front of Malfoy.

“Is it him, Draco? Is it Potter? Look again,”

“I- I can’t be sure,” Draco responded shakily. It was Potter, though, but he sure as hell wouldn’t let his father know that. Potter’s bright green eyes were slightly hidden behind the hexed bubbles that covered his face, and they gazed up at Draco. Draco gave one more look at Potter before standing and going back to his mother. She gave him a concerned look and he shook his head. She knew he was lying.

***

Harry needed to get to the forbidden forest, he had already said his goodbyes to Ron and Hermione. But he needed to find someone else now. It was his luck that he spotted the signature white-blond color of his hair in the sea of running students, and Harry quickly grabbed him. Malfoy froze and put his wand under Harry’s neck until he saw who it was and slowly lowered his wand. Yet his eyes were still wide and fearful.

Harry didn’t say anything. But he leaned in and kissed Draco chastely. Draco stumbled, but leaned into the kiss quickly.

“W-why?” He asked Harry shakily.

“I need to die,” Harry whispered. Draco’s mouth went agape and he opened his mouth to say something but Harry kissed him again. “I’m sorry,” he said, and then he ran away.

***

It was over, Voldemort’s corpse lay at Harry’s feet and Draco’s heart soared. In what felt like just a minute ago, Hagrid had carried Harry’s limp form into the courtyard, but then he had jumped up and ran at Voldemort, killing the Dark Lord with a simple Expelliarmus. Draco started to run towards him, but was jerked back violently. He turned around to be met with a glaring Auror. Draco shut his eyes as they apparated. He hadn’t even had a chance to say goodbye.

***

Harry watched in horror as they brought Draco out. He had only stayed a week in Azkaban, awaiting his trial, yet his hair was already dirty and matted, and there was a series of fresh bruises and scars that dotted his face. Harry guessed that they hadn’t even allowed him to clean up after the battle. When they called him up, Harry stood and proceeded to tell the Wizengamot how Draco was forced into his role as a Death Eater, how Draco has saved his life, and how Harry had saved his. He left out that they were soulmates, and soon Draco was released on one month’s probation and house arrest. Harry didn’t get the chance to talk to him afterwards.

***

Draco kept his head down as he walked into the Great Hall for his 8th year. He sat at the table specifically designed for the returning students, and refused to return Potter’s stare from the other end of the table. The speech McGonagall presented was lighthearted and told of equality, how no prejudices should be held, the war was over, etc.

Draco just wanted to get to his dorm as quick as possible. He barely touched his food before he stood and silently walked out. He ignored the whispers and glares that followed him and made his way to the 8th year dorms that were located on the previously unused 3rd floor corridor.

He made his way up to where the boys dorms were, and searched to find the one that had his name on it. There were four boys to a room, and only four rooms in the hallway, so it wasn’t hard to find his own. Dread engulfed him when he saw his name listed amongst Weasley’s, Boot’s and Potter’s.

Draco pushed through the door and went to the bed where his trunk was sat. He changed into a white t-shirt and pajama pants, and slid into his bed. He made sure to close the curtains and cast a silencing charm, in case he had a nightmare. He knew it would be unlikely- considering that Draco would probably not be able to fall asleep that night.

***

Harry picked around his food until he heard Hermione scoff.

“Go after him, Harry,” she told him softly. Harry looked up at his best friend and furrowed his brows.

“He wouldn’t want to talk to me,” He told her.

“Like hell he wouldn’t, the git’s been in love with you since forever, and so have you,” Ron told him. Hermione clucked her tongue at his swearing and swatted his shoulder. She turned back to Harry.

“You shouldn’t outright force him into anything, but maybe befriend him. After all, me and Ron didn’t start dating until 6th year,” Harry nodded and bit his lip before rising and walking swiftly out of the Great Hall. He was gonna befriend Draco Malfoy. He was finally gonna befriend his soulmate.

***

3 months later…

Draco curled into the warmth that was his boyfriend as they lay cuddled together in Draco’s bed. Harry’s head was tucked under his chin, and had wrapped himself around Draco like a koala bear. Draco ran his hand through the strands on Harry’s neck and leant his head down to kiss his head. Harry groaned softly and shifted beneath him. Draco watched as his eyes fluttered open, and he smiled sleepily at Draco.

“Hullo, love,” He muttered and Draco kissed him softly. It was 3 months ago that Harry had begun to sit with him at meals and classes, offered to have a seeker’s game on the pitch, and study in the library. After a weak of his badgering, Draco complied and the two did almost everything together.

It was on Halloween that Draco had found Harry curled up by himself on his bed, crying softly. Draco had remembered the significance of that date for him, the date of his parent’s deaths, and had pulled Harry into his arms. Draco had wondered why he wasn’t with Weasley and Granger, but found that Harry had told them to leave him on his own. Yet, he hadn’t pushed Draco away and although Harry was shocked at first by the gesture, he had leaned into the comfort. They had fallen asleep like that, and the next morning Harry had kissed him as they got up together. They had been dating ever since.

“Good morning,” Draco whispered. Harry let his eyes close again and he tucked his head under Draco’s own once more.

“What’s the time?” he muttered into Draco’s neck.

“Half eight,” Draco said softly. He twirled one of Harry’s curls round his finger. “We need to get up,” He dislodged himself from Harry and laughed as Harry grunted in discontent. He began to get dressed and Harry rose a couple minutes later.

They walked down to the Great Hall together. Before they ate, Draco’s mother’s barn owl swooped down in front of him and dropped a small letter. She was still on house arrest and he wrote to her weekly. She was aware of his relationship with Harry, and had been surprisingly supportive. Apparently Lucius’ opinion on the matter was irrelevant now that he was in Azkaban for life. Draco tucked away the letter to read later and pulled a cup of tea towards himself.

He turned and watched as Harry piled a meager amount of food on his plate. He tsked and put another spoonful of potatoes and eggs on his plate, as well as another scoop of beans on Harry’s toast. Harry sighed and rolled his eyes but a smile flickered at his mouth.

Draco looked up as he sipped his tea and faintly smiled at the sight in front of him. Ginny Weasley had closed her eyes and was leaning her head on Luna’s shoulder as Luna read aloud from a book of magical creatures in the America’s. Ginny would smile every now and then and ask Luna to repeat a fact, which Luna gladly recited. He turned to spare a glance at Harry and found his boyfriend beaming at him.

“They’re happy, aren’t they?” Draco whispered, returning his smile softly.

“Yes, and so are we” Harry said as he leaned in to kiss him.

#drarry #drarry ask #drarry soulmate au #soulmate au #draco x harry #harry x draco #my writing #drarry squad #drarry oneshot #background ronmione #background linny

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strangerealxty · 7 years ago

Text

Ocs

My OC’s

Name: Charlotte Ruby Campbell (Face Claim Victoria Justice)

Alter Ego: Hatter

Age: 24

Orientation: Bisexual

Backstory: She didn’t have the best life growing up, her brother always overshadowed her in everything. Her parents only cared about him. A/J was a very caring brother, he loved Charlotte very much. They had a good relationship, but her parents never accepted her. Then, something flipped inside her mind. A voice appeared, she called herself Hatter. She told Charlotte what to do….and she did it. She killed her parents and fled the scene. But the police were close behind her. When they found her, she kept sobbing “Hatter made me do it…it’s her fault.” She spent a long while in a mental institution and met her BFF Jupiter there (Visit @prettyperfectpsycho to learn more). Since she had broken, she’s been living undercover for a while. No one has found her….yet.

Likes: dogs, candy, emo music, superheroes, action movies, comedy movies, galaxy print anything, writing, and playing piano.

Dislikes: arrogant people, idiots, being called a psycho, ants

Personality: She is a very sweet girl, but when Hatter takes control, she is very manipulative. She takes pleasure in making others suffer. Charlotte has a breakdown when Hatter lets her have control again when she sees the damage done. She is a trustworthy girl and wants to help people, but Hatter gets in the way.

Name: Elena Phoebe Slyne

Age: 26

Orientation: Lesbian

Background: She grew up in a decent home, there weren’t any complaints from here. She was a straight B student and didn’t really get into trouble. When she came out to her family at the age 16, her parents were outraged. They kicked her out of the house and she was forced to stay with her grandparents. She didn’t mind though, she loved them and they loved her. But, she got bullied a lot when people found out she was gay. But look at her now! She’s a model for magazines and has a great head on her shoulders.

Likes: girls, cats, darker colors, dark makeup, did I mention cat?

Dislikes: Idiots, homophobes, bees, cat haters, zucchini

Personality: She is very, VERY flirtatious. If you’re a girl, she will use sugary pick up lines just to make you blush since she loves it. She is a flirt, but in a relationship, she is very loyal and brave. If anyone disrespects her girl, you’re fuckin dead.

Name: Brenden Christopher Wickson (Face Claim Ethan Nestor)

Age: 22

Orientation: Pansexual

Background: He comes from an abusive home. His father left after he was born and his mother turned to drugs and alcohol. He wasn’t very loved in his household, but he learned to be self sufficient. He and his mom moved around a lot since she needed her fix and she never could afford it. They usually lived with whatever boyfriend she had at the time. Around that time, he had a boyfriend. He needed someone to help him through the pain. But, the boyfriend used him and left, which left Brenden broken. He turned to music as an escape, he began to write songs and listen to a lot of music to cope with his feelings. He also used drawing and painting to calm himself down. When he turned 18, he left for good, but his mother still asks him for money.

Likes: pastel things, his plushie that is a bunny, dogs, shiny things, floral print

Dislikes: loud noises, people yelling, most people, avocados

Personality: He is a very very SMOL boi and very soft. He’s basically a ball of sunshine once you get to know him. He is a very shy boi, but warms up eventually. He won’t trust people easily, you have to earn that. He is very cautious due to his past, but he is trying to better himself. He gets panic attacks easily when he’s by himself with his thoughts or in new places.

Name: Phoenix Rey Aslan (Face Claim Karen Gillan)

Age: 1.492

Orientation: Bisexual

Background: Phoenix is a very bright witch. She once used her spells and potions for evil. She thought she was doing the right thing, but Marvin showed her what was right. He helped to make her use her powers to help people. No one really knows too much about her backstory since she rarely discusses it. You’d have to be someone pretty special to her to find out.

Likes: nature, insects, gold and silver, dogs

Dislikes: liars, arrogant people, small children

Personality: She is a very stubborn girl and has a fiery personality. Stay on her good side and you have a loyal friend for the rest of time. Get on her bad side and you’ll regret it. She is protective over her friends and partners.

Name: Ophelia Raine Winters (Lupita Nyong'o)

Age: ??

Orientation: Pansexual

Background: She was once a fierce warrior from another realm. Unfortunately, her kingdom she served had been turned to ash by a rivaling land. So, she had to find somewhere else to live since she was one of the few who survived the flames. She saved many people there, but still blames herself for not helping more. Ophelia then came to Earth where she resides now, she still has all the guilts from her home.

Likes: weapons (Mainly swords), good hearted people, candy (she didn’t have any in her realm), and dogs

Dislikes: Assholes, crowded places, annoying people

Personality: She is a strong warrior who takes zero shit from anyone. She is an amazing friend and will help anyone in danger. She is very brave and full of wisdom. She can give the best advice and even stab a bitch if she has to. A+ protector.

Name: The Storyteller

Age: ??

Orientation: Bisexual

Background: She comes from another realm, no one really knows when or how she came. That’s all we know about her.

Likes: books, hugs, and cinnamon

Dislikes: loud people, book haters, anyone who dislikes animals

Personality: She has a very dark aura around her. She likes to tell stories to people, even if they don’t want to hear them. She can make them pay attention, almost like the Host. Be careful, she may seem gentle, but she can turn on you in a second.

Name: Strixin Colette Cane

Age: 19

Orientation: Pansexual

Background: Strixin grew up in a somewhat abusive strict household. Her father and mother never let her do her own things. The dictated everything they did and didn’t hesitate to hit her if she was out of place. She found a book in her attic one day and decided to look through it. She soon found out she could cast spells that were listed in the book. In a way, she is sort of a witch.

Likes: bright colors, flowers, purple, rock music

Dislikes: loud noises, yelling, controlling people, peanuts

Personality: Strixin is very energetic and happy all the time. She always wants to make people smile, even though she barely ever did at home. She never wanted anyone to grow up the way she did, so she does her best to help them. Behind her facade of happiness, she really is a broken girl who desperately needs approval and someone to care for her. Hell, Strixin isn’t even her real name…

Name: Jackson Roger Quentin

Age: 25

Orientation: Bisexual

Background: Jackson and Jasper are twins who grew up with a tough life. They were put in foster care at a young age, but were soon kicked out when people found out about their powers. Jackson has power of fire, while Jasper has power of ice and snow. Both may be polar opposites, but they care for each other immensely.

Likes: sunglasses, shitty puns about fire, Star Wars

Dislikes: when people make fun of his brother, doctors (they tried to take his brother away), flies

Personality:

Jackson Quentin- This boy is a hot head in the most literal sense. He is a very confident man who brags about his talent, break him a little and you’ll see his true self….a sad and broken man. He hides everything under layers of confidence, flirtatious nature, and coolness.

Name: Jasper Matthew Quentin

Age: 25

Orientation: Bisexual

Background: Background: Jackson and Jasper are twins who grew up with a tough life. They were put in foster care at a young age, but were soon kicked out when people found out about their powers. Jackson has power of fire, while Jasper has power of ice and snow. Both may be polar opposites, but they care for each other immensely.

Likes: Books, quiet places, animals

Dislikes: when people bully him or his brother, arrogance, idiots

Personality: He is a very shy boy who prefers books to people. He likes to be quiet and out of the way. Even though his brother protects him physically, he is the one there to help his brother when Jackson breaks down.

Name: Scarlett Elizabeth Roland (Face claim Kathryn Newton)

Age: 23

Orientation: Pansexual

Background: No one really knows where she came from. She just appeared one day ready to safe the universe.

Likes: Adventures, kind people, knowledge

Dislikes: Arrogance, spiders, rude people

Personality: Much like The Doctor, she has a time machine clipped to her charm bracelet that can appear anytime she likes. It’s easily to transport and hide. She is an energetic girl who is always up for a good adventure. Scarlett loves everything Tolkien, Star Wars, and Star Trek. Let’s not forget Doctor Who, she ADORES that show so so so much! She tends to act like the 11th Doctor, only gets serious for certain things or in spurts.

Name: Killian Miles Everson (Face claim Chris Pine)

Age: 28

Orientation: Gay

Background: Killian is an assassin. He’s been in this business for as long as he can remember since his father was one too. He won’t give away anything personal about himself, unless you’re someone he really trusts.

Likes: Weapons, food, solitude

Dislikes: whiny people, slackers, children

Personality: He is a very cold man who only wants to get the job done and is out of there. He pushes everyone away, he hates letting people in. If you were to meet him on the street, he would seem distant and has a resting bitch face.

#my ocs

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genericpseudonyms · 7 years ago

Text

this is what makes us girls

‘Tell me something nice.’

My head is in the crook of her shoulder and we are sprawled out on the couch. My dog lies between her legs because she likes to feel cornered in. Some mindless TV show is blaring but I can’t focus on anything on screen. The only thing I can think about is the same negative feedback loop my brain has been circling for the past forty-eight hours.

‘Ugh, this again?’

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I’m spiraling. Tell me something nice.’

‘You have good hair,’ she says in a deadpan. ‘And it’s attached to a very smart head. Though, it’s not being terribly smart at the moment.’

I wave my hand. ‘Keep going.’

‘You’re killing me.’

‘I’m sad. I’m killing myself.’

She gives me a look.

‘Bad joke?’

‘Bad joke,’ she agrees.

‘Well, keep going then.’

‘You’re smart.’

‘You said that already.’

She sucks in her breath through her teeth. ‘You’re pretty. Very pretty. Too pretty for all those losers that keep pining after you.’

‘All zero of them. And I’m not pretty.’

‘You leave a trail of bitter nerd hearts behind you. You’re just too oblivious to notice. And yes, you are.’

I grab her hand and she drops her knitting needle. Cupping her hand in mine, I use it to stroke my own hair, like I am her puppet master. I have to. She'll never do this on her own. ‘See, this is how you comfort someone who’s feeling shitty. I am not someone people pine after. I’m the third unwanted leg of the love triangle. Always have been, always will be.’

‘Oh my god,’ she says. I can’t see her face, but I know she’s rolling her eyes. ‘That is not how love triangles work. And just because you’re blinder than a bat, doesn’t make what I say untrue. What’s his face,’ she snaps her fingers, trying to remember, ‘you know, that guy.’

‘Ah yes. That guy. So descriptive. So helpful. ’

‘The guy at Em’s wedding.’

‘Will? The weirdo who wouldn’t hug Em on her own wedding day? The one I yelled for fifteen minutes for being a giant dick to you both? The one who ran up to you to say that I was scary as fuck? That guy?’

‘Yeah. Him. He pined after you.’

My eyes roll so hard they almost fall out of my head. ‘Yay.’

‘You’re a bright, sparkly unicorn. You just have to find another bright, sparkly unicorn.’

‘I don’t want to be a unicorn.’

‘Psh. Please. Everyone wants to be a unicorn.’

‘Well, I don’t. Voldemort’s just gonna suck my blood. It’s not a good time.’

‘Then what do you want?’

I pause. This is the question everyone keeps asking me and I have no answer that sticks. ‘I just want to...meeehhhh.’

‘Use your words. Articulate what you’re feeling.’

‘I don’t wanna.’

‘You’re so fucking annoying.’

‘I’m just...lonely is all. And confused.’

‘About?’

‘Everything.’

‘Everything?’ If I look up, I’ll see her giving me an arched brow and a look that screams Bitch Please, I Do Not Have Time For Your Pity Party.

‘I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about anything or anyone anymore. It feels like my memories and gut instincts are all wrong. I don’t know how to trust if someone’s actually telling me the truth, if they’re lying, or they think they’re telling the truth but actually lying to themselves, or something else entirely.’

‘Well yeah,” she says. ‘You can only accept what people tell you is true. You’ll drive yourself crazy otherwise.’

‘Do you think I’m overreacting? Isn’t this how immigrant families are?’ I bite my lip. ‘What if I’m just being oversensitive?’

She frees her hand from my grasp so she can go back to knitting, though I’m not making it easy. Our arms are all entwined and I know she’s being exceedingly patient with me. ‘No. This is normal when people lie to you your whole life. Tiger Moms and whatever are a thing but...they still support their kids. They don’t do what they did. Yeah the love is conditional but it’s not...They don’t leave you locked in a basement with no food.’ She pauses. ‘It’s a miracle you’re not shitty like your cousins. You’re doing real good.’

That calms me down a bit. Either that, or the sleeping pill is finally kicking in. ‘You love me.’

‘Not this again.’

‘Hey,’ I say, pretending to be miffed. ‘You shouldn’t only say it when I’m sobbing on your shoulder after a nervous breakdown. You can’t deny it. I heard you say it.’

‘Of course I love you,’ she says, making no eye contact. ‘I’m just not effusive like Em is. I don’t do mushy feeling things. That’s what Em is for.’

‘Em is in St. Louis and you know doctor hours are crazy. You’re what I got.’

‘Yeah,’ she says, patting me on the back. ‘Sucks for you.’

It’s not so bad, really. But I’m not going to tell her that. I’ll be thirty soon, and my life is absolutely nothing like what I thought it would be ten years ago. I’m not married—and I’m pretty sure I never will be. I don’t have kids, and I’m not sure I’ll ever get the chance to. But I am a writer. A real bonafide, paid writer, and that’s something I never thought I’d manage. I’m also moping on the couch with my roommate and best friend of 15 years. And soon she’ll be leaving me for her own apartment.

‘I’m sad you’re leaving,’ I say. ‘Like, I’m glad for you. I’m not trying to be selfish. I totally meant it when I helped with your application. Like, I was so happy to help with your appeal and I’m not saying—‘

‘Shhhhh,’ she replies. ‘I know. You royally screwed yourself over to help me out. Only an idiot does that.’

‘Hey!’

‘What are you gonna do when I move out?’

‘Well, M is moving in.’

‘Yeah but he’s rarely gonna be around. He’ll check up on you but you know his hours.’

‘I’ll be fine. I’m always okay.’

She gives me a stern look. We both know I’m absolute shit at taking care of myself. As soon as she moves out, I will go back to eating maybe once a day, if that, and staying up until 2 or 3 in the morning writing. I will probably drink a few too many cups of coffee and refuse to tell people when I’m doing poorly. The dog will be fine though. I’ve always been better at taking care of others.

‘You survive. That’s different from being okay.’

‘I’ll be fiiiine. I made it seven years overseas, didn’t I?’

Lips pursed, she goes back to knitting. ‘You better be. I don’t wanna make new friends. I’m too old for that shit.’

‘When we’re seventy, let’s get a beach house and live together again,’ I say. ‘We’ll either be divorced or our spouses will be dead. Our children, if we have any, won’t need us. We can be old and crotchety together. I’ll yell at the kids to get off my holographic lawn. Do beach houses have lawns?’

‘That’s always been the plan. Beach houses can have lawns if they’re holographic.’

‘This would all be easier if you were a lesbian,’ I gripe. ‘We’re already that old sexless married couple that constantly bickers and shops at sales.’

‘I’m sorry I can’t fulfill you in that way. Plus, even if I were a lesbian, you know we wouldn’t work out.’

It’s true. We wouldn’t. We’d be at each other’s throats in a half-second. She’s blunt. I’m overly sensitive. She’s a woman of few words. I blabber and blather because I don’t know when to shut up or go home. She’s private. I don’t give a rat’s ass who knows my dirty laundry—well, most of my dirty laundry. We’re oil and water, but as friends, it somehow it works. I understand her, and she understands me. It’s that simple.

‘But you’ve thought of it,’ I say.

‘Ugh, no.’

I smile. She totally has.

‘I’ll ask M if he’s still in love with you.’

‘Oh god.’ She stops knitting and scrunches up her face. ‘Oh god please no. It’s been fourteen years.’

‘Why do you think I’m okay with his straight ass moving in here? He can’t fall in love with me if he’s too busy pining after you. For fourteen years. See, that’s what pining looks like. Holy fuck we’re old.’

‘Oh please. You’re just happy he’s gonna teach you how to properly twirl a lightsaber. The two of you are just gonna be waving your glow sticks in the driveway like dorks.’

‘Duh. Live-in Jedi master. How cool is that?’

‘Better?’

I think for a second. I have not wanted to metaphorically stick my head in an oven ala Sylvia Plath for a solid twenty minutes. (She has also hid our copy of The Bell Jar from me.) I am not crying hysterically and have not cried hysterically in a long time. If I have my way, nothing will ever make me cry that hard again except for puppies dying in movies.

‘Better.’

‘Good, cuz you can drink this Ensure. You’ve only had two today.’

‘Oh my fucking god, please just end me. I can’t. I would rather lick your feet than drink another one of these. I would rather lick the dog’s feet. I ate lunch and dinner today. Two meals. I’m up to two. Do you know how much this shit tastes like ass? Chalky, chalky ass. It says chocolate, but it’s ass. No, please. Don’t make me. Oh god, no. Why. For fuck’s sake why.’

‘Cuz Em said you gotta have 3 a day. Cuz your ‘lunch’ and ‘dinner’ were like, one regular person meal. Do you want scurvy?’

‘I’m not a pirate. I can’t get scurvy.’

‘Don’t sass me. Drink it.’ She twists open the cap and hands me the bottle. I’m trapped now. She knows I hate wasting food.

‘Ughhhhhhhhh.’

‘The sooner you get back to eating, the sooner you don’t have to drink these. Speaking of which, I ordered you another case.’

‘Another case??? I’m back on food. I don’t need another case.’

‘I don’t need you getting cocky and then starving to death when I leave.’

‘I’m not gonna starve. There’s GrubHub and Seamless. And like, bread. I can eat toast.’

‘My god woman.’ She thwaps me upside the head. ‘Toast is not a meal. Toast is bread. Bread is nothing. Your grocery bill is gonna like, shrink to nothing.’

‘So not true. I eat. When like, I’m not depressed. I ate a whole burrito and burger the other day cuz I was pissed. Anger requires calories.’

‘Oh please. You have two modes. Eat everything in sight in like, two seconds, because you’re convinced you’ll never eat again. Or like, you pick at your food like some skinny ballerina.’

‘Well, you know why.’

‘Yeah, I know why. Still.’

I glance down at the Ensure bottle. She won’t budge until it’s empty and I know it’s good for me. Grimacing, I chug until it’s all gone. It’s better that way.

‘God, are you happy now?’

‘Yup.’

It occurs to me that this is the first time in my life someone has taken care of me when I’m like this. Usually, I spend weeks alone in my room, crying silently until I fall asleep. I end up fighting with parents or exes about why can’t I just be happy? Why can’t I just turn off this part of my brain and power through?

‘I’m gonna miss you when you leave,’ I say.

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ she replies. ‘I’ll be a train ride away. And it won’t be that godawful ride when you were living in bumblefuck nowhere in Flushing.’

‘Still.’

‘Yeah.’

We sit in silence and watch the TV. She’s not leaving tomorrow. Or even the day after that. There’s still some time left.

‘Are you ever gonna give me my arm back?’ she gives me a look and I flash her my cheekiest smile.

‘When you’re gone, there’s no way I can curl up with M like this.’

‘...Fine.’

#spilled ink #spilled words #prose #dialogue #friendship #my writing #excerpt from a book i'll never write #memoir #diary #best friends #i'd kill for this ho #but also it's really good to practice writing dialogue again

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ophelialoveshandsomemen · 4 years ago

Text

S.I.M.P.L.E

A story about Dean having the apple-pie life he’s always wanted. As told by Sam’s perspective. Sometimes. Just roll with it, I wrote this for my own fun. Figured maybe all you lovely people could get a shot at enjoying it too!

Disclaimer. All mistakes are mine. The French-Canadian OFC is mine. The WInchester kids are mine. Dean, Sam and the rest of the SPN cast of characters, unfortunately, are not mine.

I believe @justjensenanddean owns one of the pics in the collage. Maybe… It was a while ago. Nicely let me know if I should take it down. Or if this is illegal or something, tumblr is still mildly confusing to me.

Summary. Sam learns some more about his quirky nephews and beautiful nieces.

Chapter 2: Dean’s Magnificent Family of Seven.

Sam dried off his hair, after his luxuriously long shower, with a towel that smelled vaguely of moss and oranges. It made him wonder if his newly discovered sister-in-law leaves the clothes outside to dry or if she actually uses a soap that is scented like moss and oranges. He did see a washing machine when he passed by the laundry room a little earlier, but he hadn't caught sight of a dryer. Louisa does strike Sam as the slightly more old-school type, so it's very possible that she just doesn't have one. He wonders exactly how old Louisa is, anyway? He's pretty sure that there's no grey in her hair and she was running really fast for a pregnant mother of four. But Sam just can't imagine his big brother to have actually married a woman that much younger than himself. Meh, maybe she simply athletic.

As he cautiously exits the steaming bathroom in the house's spacious and well-lit basement, Sam peeks around the corner to see if any of the kids are hanging about, ready to pounce on him. They aren't shy, that's for sure. He sighs a bit in relief, really, until he sees one of the twins, Robert, he thinks, pad over to him from the den where the two older kids are watching, is that The Magnificent Seven? Oh Dean... Sam crouches down to Robert's level. The boy seems to eye him warily, then leans in to whisper in his ear.

"Pweas, come wi meh. Stasie neeeeds ew!"

Sam nods quickly and lets Robert lead him to a nursery on the other side of the basement, where Anastasie was floating above her crib as she whimpered. Sam gulps. 'Not good.' She turned her head towards Sam and his heart fell into the pit of his stomach. They glowed a very faint blue. The same colour as Michael's... Before Sam could have a nervous breakdown about it though, Robert tugged on his sleeve to pull his ear back down to his level.

"Do't orry bout bue eyeses, aways ave 't. Wo't urtuh. Wan ick up!"

Sam, thankfully caught on to the fact that the kid said she won't hurt him and that she wants to be picked up. As soon as Sam grabbed her, her eyes turned a normal dark brown and her weight dropped into Sam's arms. He heard Robert say 'Tank ew.' and 'Come wi meh.' right before he was left alone with his thoughts in the forest green nursery.

What the hell! Don't be what I think you are!

He went and sat with the kids as they watched The Magnificent Seven, trying to figure out how he was gonna bring this up with Dean, when Marie plopped down beside him and said "Uncle Sammy we need to talk."

"Um, okay. What about Marie?" "What you just saw in the nursery. See, Mama was three months pregnant with Anastasie when Dad got possessed by the bad angel." "Archangel, you nimrod!" John-Henry interrupted from his spot under the hand carved coffee-table where he appeared to be searching for something. "Shut up dirt-bag! Anyway, Mama didn't know about the possession and when Dad sho..." "Or who she thought was Dad!" "I said shut it! Showed up Mommy was a bit confused, but sometimes Daddy acts a bit strange anyways. We were all asleep and didn't see him that night. But the next morning when I woke up Mama was in the kitchen crying and Dad was gone. Seems when Mama and Daddy got "reacquainted" the night before Mommy found out about the angel and how he'd given some weird power glow stick stuff to Anastasie." "It's called 'grace' idiot! And it's still archangel..."

Marie stuck her tongue out at him for that. Sam's head is reeling with information now. Between the fact that, apparently, archangels can turn already conceived children into partial nephilim and the fact that Marie used air-quotes and a metaphor for sex at the age of seven, Sam just didn't know what to think.

"Where are your Mommy and " he swallowed, "Dad?" Sam had never had to call Dean a dad. The word suddenly felt foreign on his tongue.

John-Henry shrugs as he lowers the volume on the movie using the remote he'd been looking for. "Getting reacquainted. Usually takes them twenty or so minutes. Unless Dad's been gone a while, then it can take an hour. That's when Marie and me watch a movie."

I shouldn't have asked...

"And Robert? Doesn't he watch the movie too?" " Robbie likes to sleep instead. Or play with the pool balls on the billiards table behind you." Marie answered.

Course there's a pool table. Did I really expect any less? Next up will be a trampoline and a gun range! Jeez!

"Mama's calling! Time for dinner!" "Yippee!" " You coming, Uncle Sammy?"

Sam must have really been out of it. He hadn't heard Louisa calling at all.

"Yeah, I'm right behind you sweetie..."

The whole family somehow settled down and sat at the heavyset, oblong, wooden table in the kitchen. Which was quite cute, in Sam's opinion. Yellow walls with dark blue trimmings and dark pine cabinets that had deer antlers for handles. Bit clashy maybe. But cute. Bright. It looked like a fairy tale cottage had a baby with a hunter's cabin, to be exact. Sam's attention was caught, again by Marie, when she made a comment about hoping that her Dad hadn't put another twin inside her Mommy like he did for the boys. Louisa snorted her juice out her nose, she was laughing so hard. "Honey," she said after, " I'm not sure that can happen twice to the same mama, so I think you're okay for now."

When Sam gave Dean the dude-what-is-she-saying face, Dean rolled his eyes and took a deep breathe before answering.

"Well apparently, some ladies can get pregnant after they're already, you know, pregnant. John-Henry and Robert were born at the same time, but not, uh, made at the same time. It's why Robert is so much smaller than John-Henry and has a bit of trouble pronouncing. He was on oxygen or some crap like that for a few weeks after he was born because he was technically two and a half months premature. But Johnny here was good to go within a day."

"Lord I hated that labour! Everyone buzzing around like headless goats and moaning on and on about how the babies mightn't make it! I ended up throwing everyone except Dean out of the room before the doctor forced himself back in. Which took just long enough for Robert to be born, then Doctor Ominous insisted on delivering John-Henry. I swore to never darken the door of a maternity ward again afterwards and so far haven't broken that oath, either!" Louisa smiled at Dean. "Lucky for me, I have a husband who is more than willing to stay home with me and bring these little ones into the world."

Louisa fondly kissed Dean at that, the kids giggling in the background as they did. Unfortunately, Louisa leaning over gave Sam the full view of her neck which exposed a blooming hickey. Sam shuddered.

"So, Dean was the one who helped with both of the girls?"

Sam both hoped and dreaded that the flippant question would pull a reaction from either Louisa or Dean which would inform Sam about the whole Micheal-gave -my-baby-sister-voodoo-powers thing. He wasn't disappointed. Dean's face immediately fell and Louisa bit her lips, responding " Technically, Michael delivered Anastasie. But now is not a good time to talk about that."

Supper was served by Louisa. A chili con carni made with beef chunks as well as hamburger. It also had sweet corn and some sort of white corn, possibly native corn, in it. Sam had to admit, for the amount of unhealthy cholesterol in this ungodly meat mix, the chili tasted divine. No wonder Dean was slowly but steadily gaining weight in the last eight years. Not that the diner food helped any either. Sometime in between Marie and John-Henry fighting over Lord knows what and Anastasie puking up half of her steak and peas mush all over Louisa's t-shirt, Robert, who was having a lot of trouble finishing his meal, grabbed his plate and silently slid into Dean's lap. That's when Sam noticed Dean's smile return, after the unwanted attention brought on about Michael. Robert settled in and tightly clung to Dean's waist. Dean wordlessly began to spoon feed him, eating his own chili in between hesitantly taken bites from Robbie. Robert never made a sound...

Sam began to wonder if the boy was naturally clingy or if his silent demeanor and slight anti-sociability was an indication to something else, due to being premature.

Supper ended on a anti-climactic note, in all honesty. Louisa carted Anastasie off to be washed, given gripe water to settle her stomach and set to play in the living room/study beside the kitchen. Marie and JH ran outside, having barely washed their hands forehand, and paying no mind to Dean yelling at them to stay in the yard or so help him. Sam sat back, drinking some unlabelled beer Dean had pulled out of the fridge. He chuckled under his breath at the sight of Robert with his shaggy head tucked beneath Dean's chin. Dean is humming Old Cotton Fields by CCR.

"Dean?" "Hmm?" "When did you and Louisa get married? You are married aren't you?" "Yeah, got married back in 2011, on Louisa's 20th birthday, June 10th. Most of her family refused to come cause she was marrying some no name pool stick slinging drunkard who drove a muscle car and was a little too handy with a shotgun for her mom's liking." Dean's pensive for a moment. "You know, in the end, only her dad and her oldest sister with her family attended. And two of her friends from college, they were the bridesmaids. Got married in a little Catholic church up in North Dakota, where Louisa's from. Legally, we're not really married, since the government thinks I'm dead. Louisa just changed her name." He huffs." Said my name was sexier than hers. Anyways, the priest was so old, he agreed to bless our wedding without the permission of the bishop. Or a marriage licence."

That answers my question about Louisa's age then...

Sam smiles at the thought of his brother, standing at the altar, watching as his bride marches radiantly down the aisle.

"So, her family hated you." Sam laughed "Who would've guessed that?"

Dean chuckled at Sam's sarcasm.

"Bitch." "Jerk."

"I wish I'd been there with you." Dean visibly tightens his hold on Robert, who had fallen asleep a while ago, drool pooling on Dean's t-shirt. "I wish you'd been there too, Sammy..."

Louisa steps back in at this point. She ushers Sam and Dean, still holding his sleeping child, into the living room. Louisa snuggles into Dean's side on the relic couch from the 60's. Sam lounges quite comfortably on the green plaid, cotton upholstered recliner nearby.

Not a word was said for the rest of the evening.

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#dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x ofc #dean winchester has kids #french canadian #catholicism #dean winchester has a family #anti-veganism #some swearing

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