#I just gotta find a different way of phrasing it and i'll make a different post that wont be a vent

[dimonds456]

so. apparently i'm malnurished. (vent/PSA below)

Protip: when you move out to live on your own, DO NOT only eat microwavable food. This will actually kill your body.

I am now at a point where I cannot eat anything that has preservatives or too much sodium (salt) in it. I do not know how to cook for myself, and am now living on nightmare mode because my brain is actively rejecting anything I eat that isn't fresh. I've been okay so far, but my weight, strength, general brain-ing, and other disabilities have all been on a steady decline since I moved out of my parent's house two years ago.

My mental state has also been spiraling with it. My anxiety is 10x worse than it's ever been in my life, causing me to panic over the smallest little things for no real reason. Now that I know that my diet has been slowly killing me, this makes sense.

It also explains why I'm so fucking cold all the time, or why all my symptoms for all of my disabilities have gotten worse. I cannot even take my 5-minute walk home from work without being winded, or even play piano because my arms will hurt from holding them out for too long, simply because I do not have enough energy/strength in my body because I wasn't eating correctly.

This time last year I was convinced I was going to die, and part of the reason why was because A) I was on the wrong dosage of methamizole (which I need to live) and B) I kept missing doctor's appointments. And, now, apparently C) because all I'd been eating at the time was those $1 pot pies and Ramen food packs.

I physically cannot eat frozen foods anymore, I actively cannot. Like literally cannot, my body won't let me even swallow it.

I'm literally living on Sudden Death Mode because this has been building for two years and I never fucking realized until about a month and a half ago, and didn't do anything about it until last fucking week.

Don't do this. PSA.

I now have to speed-learn how to cook my own meals, by myself, while juggling work and taking into account how many spoons (read: energy) I have for that day and trying to just make it. If I don't have the energy to cook anything, then I won't have any food for the next day, and then that'll make me have even less energy.

I'm realizing now that this shit, this shit right here, is probably the core of why I've been acting so off recently. It all stems back to what I've been eating. It's been actively affecting my brain for TWO YEARS, like no shit I don't feel as creative as I did before I left, I've been eating nothing but garbage and now my body is starting to rot with it!

Hopefully I can get the hang of cooking fast, otherwise I am fuuuucked.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

"Violet would do it for us" "Yeah, she would.

"Louis would do it for us" "...I guess"

WHAT WAS THE REASON. WHY.

I think I know why.

So, yes—when we're trying to get James to help us, Clementine has to walk through the barn with his mask on. AJ's understandably anxious about this, and here's how these optional conversations can go:

Clementine: You know Violet would do it for us. AJ: Yeah... She would.

Clementine: Louis would do it for us. AJ: Yeah. I guess.

So... why? Why this small difference in the way AJ reacts? Or, even in the way Clementine phrases it?

I think it's easier for us who like Louis/clouis to look at this negatively, like "Well, what the hell? That seems unfair."

But, we gotta remember which route this appears in. AJ doesn't say this in Louis' route, he says it in Violet's route where Louis is captured.

In that route, we obviously spend less time with Louis. More importantly, he doesn't get to grow as much as a character. That's the nature of this game; you know less about the one you don't choose.

The player probably didn't go hunting with him, didn't appeal to him, didn't follow him, and definitely didn't save him... meaning the perception of him might not be the greatest depending on the player. Especially if that player is still pissed about his vote... and I think AJ might be echoing some of that doubt.

Violet in Louis' route, at the very least, earns some favor by voting to keep Clementine and AJ. Hence why Clementine is pretty confident that Violet would do this for them and why AJ agrees... even though through meta-knowledge we know that Violet despises Clementine for letting her get captured. So, we could argue that she wouldn't do it for them in that moment. It's all part of the irony that ep3 likes to play into... y'know, "Imagine how Violet will feel when she finds out you came to rescue her. You'll have given her hope again."

Oh, will she have hope again, Lee? Is that what she's going to feel when she sees Clementine again? Are you sure?

But, in Violet's route, Louis is shown to be apologetic but not to have stepped up. He doesn't get the chance to. Hence why Clementine states he'd do it for them without the "you know" and why AJ seems more doubtful.

And the thing is, anyone who knows anything about Louis knows that he would do it no matter the route... but he'd also complain about it, y'know?

Fine, he'll climb up and distract the walkers, but he's gonna make a half-hearted threat about eating first Clem and Violet if he dies. Fine, he'll rub walker guts all over himself, but he's gonna be grumpy about it. Fine, he'll carry the bomb when they infiltrate the boat, but he's gonna be anxious about it the entire time.

Like... sometimes, that's just how Louis is?

If it were him James handed that mask to and asked to walk among walkers, Louis would be like, "Fine, but only because Clem, AJ, and my friends are my reason for existing and without them, I'll die anyway... and because I'll look good in these walker skins."

On the other hand, Violet's more of a "just shut up and do it," kind of gal. You hand her the mask and she'll be like, "Ugh, fine. Let's get this over with."

So yeah, there's a purpose for the slight against Louis there. You don't know him unless you choose him, and if you don't, the game adjusts accordingly.

I also see this sentiment of "Why would AJ say that??" at the end of Louis' route where AJ has the option to question why Clementine's trusting him with an important task.

But, like... you don't have to pick that option. Y'know? I understand being annoyed that it's even there; I was annoyed, too... but, if you like Louis and you understand his arc, you're not going to have AJ say that. Because you know better. You didn't just hear the jokes and the piano. You're making sure AJ didn't stop listening, either.

In my opinion, that choice is there to test you.

So yeah, anon, I hope this reasoning helps.

[whumpbug]

okay okay okay so I held back on this one because I asked alternate already BUT. can you put Gene and Cassidy in a sci-fi story. what would they wear what are their roles do you have scene snippets or dialog? sci-fi is my favorite thing ever and as always feel free to ignore if this isn't the vibe!!! i love you bug /p!!!!!

OHOHOHOHOHHOH SETH I LOVE U /P

i am all for a sci-fi vibe. even if star wars is TECHNICALLY a space opera, i love love love the space setting and i would be DELIGHTED to talk about it.

im gonna word vomit on the page first and them ill try my hand at a few drabbles in this au. strap in for ANOTHER very long post. THANK U AGAIN SETH I LOVE UR ASKS I TRULY CAN'T GET ENOUGH OF THEM /GEN

okay so. since i'm only really well-versed in star wars sci-fi concepts, this is going to be a vaguely star wars inspired au but i'll try to phrase it in a way thats more applicable to sci-fi in General (its always so fun to translate their jobs and personalities into different settings)

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we'll start with gene. idk why but i'm getting very much a bounty hunter vibe from him. like someone who maybe works for a larger organization or guild hunting down notorious criminals (i mention that he works for an Entity bc i think its sort of important that he doesnt choose his bounties himself. he gets them assigned)

i think he would still do it out of a sense of responsibility because he doesn't think bad people should just be running around like that, but also because. a man's gotta make a living. he's gotta pay the bills.

i can see him having his own little ship that he practically lives out of considering how much he travels, and i feel like he'd get very attached to his ship (much like calliope. sorry calliope you've become a spaceship in this au)

OMG AND ALSO A THOUGHT IS BEING BEAMED INTO MY HEAD.

he wears a mask. you can't see his face when he's out doing jobs. he conceals his face, partially because he doesn't want people to see when hes scared or smug or anything like that and partially for the Swag.

that brings me to his overall outfit. i believe in my heart of hearts that gene would wear something like this (i wish i could credit the artist but i couldnt find it)

except instead of an entire helmet, it would be more of just a black piece of cloth pulled loosely over his mouth and nose. and im also seeing him in a very wide brimmed hat that he can tilt down to Brood pls tell me you guys see the vision.

he'd have a little revolver-looking blaster and knowing him, it'd be set to stun. i don't think he really enjoys bringing people in cold, and does his best to avoid it when he can

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OK now onto cassidy. my beautiful darling boy silver. my sweetiepie.

it was kind of difficult to translate his profession into this setting because. it involves more people other than him.

ultimately i decided that, similar to the modern au, he is a part of an underground business, kind of like a rebellion of sorts, that fight against the injustices of the galaxy robin-hood style. of course, montana is the leader (unfortunately) and cassidy is essentially his right hand man

i can see cassidy traveling planet to planet, dismantling corrupt governments, providing for the needy, and having an absolute blast doing it, but his methods are. very illegal. and there is a growing bounty on his head.

nearly every major government wants specifically him locked away for life because of the destruction he's caused, and of course they hire the very best bounty hunter around to track him down.

and of course cassidy is a slippery fellow

cue their little cat and mouse thing they've got going on. gene wants to catch him because if he does, he'd practically be set for life. cassidy runs away because, well. he has a job to do. he can't get caught, especially by the weirdly attractive masked dude that talks to his spaceship.

and lastly, here is what i think cassidy's fit would vaguely look like:

he loves ponchos he can't help it. they're too comfy.

he too would have a little revolver-blaster thing and of course, his knife and hat. one thing that it different is the stolen jewelry. i decided that instead of stealing jewelry from the awful people, he takes mechanical/droid parts for his little buddy that he keeps around named SC-071-1 (haha. ahaha get it. please tell me someone gets it.)

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OK ONTO THE DRABBLES AND SNIPPETS! you get 3 because im feeling Generous /pos. here in the first little snippet for you. this is the two meeting in a bar and not wanting to make a scene (gene tracked him there) (i just wanted to write a silly tense scene)

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Cassidy heard Gene before he saw him.

The man was always stomping around in a way no one could quite replicate. His footsteps were deliberate, cold, and unmistakable.

And they were right behind him.

The business end of a blaster was suddenly pressed into Cassidy's ribs and his mouth went dry.

"I'll have a Jet Juice. On the rocks."

Gene tossed the bartender a coin, to which he grumbled indignantly and began on the drink.

Cassidy risked a sideways glance at the bounty hunter. His expression was unreadable and hidden as always, and he didn't even turn to look at Cassidy. Instead, Gene leaned close and spoke lowly into his ear.

"Make a scene and you're dead. Try to run and you're dead. Turn on your comm and you're dead. Am I clear?"

Cassidy smirked, and mocked a salute. "Loud 'n clear, sir."

Gene gave a curt nod and turned to the bar. The bartender slid him his drink, which he downed in one go, and he was just about to order another when--

He sputtered when he felt something pressed into a certain.. important area. He blanched.

"Didn't say anything about fightin' fire with fire, did you, cowboy?" Cassidy grinned. The sight of the big bad bounty hunter squirming because his family jewels were threatened never got old.

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DRABBLE 2 HERE WE GO. this one is gene finding cassidy after a mission gone sour. cassidy was effectively abandoned by montana with the promise that he would come back for him.

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The whole mission was a bust from the beginning.

Cassidy should have known. He had a gut feeling-- that it was some sort of trap specifically designed for the organization. When he brought it up to Montana, he said that it was just Cassidy being paranoid. And, of course, he believed him. He always did

And now, there he was, beaten within an inch of his life and left to the elements by the government higher-ups.

They really didn't like people messing with their system.

Cassidy took a labored breath for what felt like the millionth time. Each time it was getting harder. His arms were pinned awkwardly above his head and to fill his lungs, he had to pull himself up. It quickly became exhausting.

The worst part was the cold. Montana had mentioned that this planet's average temperature was a little below what Cassidy was used to, but he didn't mention that the city they were infiltrating was located near the northern pole of the planet.

It was freezing.

Cassidy had long since stopped shivering.

He let his head loll forward. He wasn't sure he had the strength to wait for Montana anymore. He wasn't sure he had the strength for anything anymore. Even keeping his eyes open seemed a monumental task.

So, he let them fall shut.

••••

When he woke up, it was because he registered his center of gravity tilting on it's axis.

There was a body pressed against his. And it was warm.

If he had any remaining strength, he would have clung to his rescuer like there was no tomorrow. Instead, he settled for letting his head fall against the person's chest as he let out a pitiful whine.

A hand chafed up and down his shoulder. "Just relax. We'll get you warm. Don't you dare try to run off, Silver."

He wouldn't dream of it. Not when he could feel himself melting to putty in the arms of this stranger.

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LAST DRABBLE it's gene's turn. in this au he has spasthma (space asthma) and sometimes it hinders his job in Not good ways. and cassidy isn't heartless.

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Cassidy really wasn't thinking when he threw the smoke bomb. All he knew was that the damned bounty hunter was catching up and he needed to throw him off.

He did not expect him to fall to his knees with a guttural coughing fit.

It would have been so easy to leave him there to rot, to hop in his ship and escape without looking back.

But when did Cassidy ever take the easy way out?

"Shit," He hissed, darting back to where Gene was kneeled with a palm supporting him on the ground.

He was clutching at his chest, choked gasps leaving him intermittently. His eyes looked vaguely panicked.

"C-Can't--" He wheezed, getting cut off by another coughing fit. He looked as if he was about to topple over.

Cassidy caught him by the arm and dragged him away from the busy street. He propped him up against an wall tucked into an alleyway and began rummaging around in his bag.

One of the younger kids with the Montana's crew had the same condition with all the same symptoms Gene was having right now. The kid was pretty forgetful, and Cassidy always made sure he had an extra rebreather on him. Just in case.

Gene was going to owe him big time.

His fingers finally grazed what he was looking for and he yanked it out, fumbling to get it open. He shook the small canister and pressed it to Gene's lips.

"You have to puff. Just try, okay? Just a little." Cassidy grabbed Gene's hand and placed it on his chest, exaggerating his own breathing to show him what to strive for.

Gene hiccuped slightly before taking a flimsy inhale. He breathed out and tried at it again, and found it gradually got easier.

When he could finally take a deep breath, he collapsed against the wall, panting. His hand didn't leave Cassidy's chest.

"Thank-- thank you," He whispered.

Cassidy smiled.

"Does this mean I get a headstart now?"

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SETH thank you SO VERY MUCH for this ask and this au. i think i may like it more than their original au GOD i love them so so so much FHDJKFH. thank u for the requests and as always PLS dont be afraif to send more if the mood striked you but no pressure ofc! /gen

hope you enjoy my rambling bc this post was LONGGGGG

[defire]

Ostensibly Torture

Dance of Death Chapter 13

Content: restraints, death threats, infection, carewhumper, painful medical procedure

Nife lay on the floor with her arms tied behind her back, face right next to Wick's. Probably thinking he couldn't be seen, he was gently pressing his face into the ground and grimacing, crying silently. She was also crying, and shaking so hard that whimpers kept pressing up out of her throat. Her hands were swelling around the tight ropes binding her wrists together, and her leg burned. It burned so bad she wished she could cut it off.

"So what should we do to her?" Aqua was saying. 

"How about we–" Nife was interrupted by a stomp in the back that pushed her back into the gross carpet.

She sobbed.

"Oh fuck," She cried. "Don't kill me, please don't kill me..."

She shrieked as Aqua lightly toed her right knee.

"Don't, don't! I'm begging you,--"

"Stay down." Aqua said. "Or it will be your leg."

She froze, gritting her teeth in her effort to stay still, tears pouring down her cheeks. She felt like she was going to lose her mind in terror. Aqua kept bringing up different ways to punish her for the things she'd done to them, before they would go ahead with the murder.

“We could hang her by her bad leg and stab her till she bleeds out.” He said. “Or perhaps waterboard her in Ink Lake, gradually drown her to death.”

Nife squeezed her eyes shut, trying to shut it out, when all she could picture was the horrible suggestions Aqua was making.

"She is a Druid, Breeze," Someone said. "I've never killed one of my own before..." 

"But, she--look this shit." Breeze answered, gesturing at the people that had mostly bled out now because of Nife's knives. "We gotta waste 'er."

The others didn't seem as interested in torturing Nife as Aqua was, even after what she'd done to them. 

"Look, it's not about her, it's about claiming Ink Lake," One of them said.

"Nuh-uh." Aqua snapped. "It's about justice for Druids."

That phrase clued Nife in on who they were. She'd heard of the Druid Justice rebel group. It was more of an urban rumor, but apparently the Druid Justice group would capture any Banes that came near their territories, torture them, and leave the body parts somewhere where the passers-by would see them. The DJ’s.

"Great." She whispered.

"Yeah, it is great." Aqua kicked her. "I'll tell you what," He said. "You guys take Wick down to Wily and me and whoever wants to thrash this sympathizer bitch will stay and get some justice."

Eventually, they agreed, and Aqua was left there with two other DJ's.

They dragged Wick away with them down the stairs, slamming the door behind them.

"Now," Aqua rubbed his knuckles, looking down on Nife. "Time for some Druid justice."

Nife pressed her face into the ground, filled with desperation and terror. 

"Scared?" Aqua said as the three stepped closer to her, looking down on her.

Nife didn't answer. She was so panicked she was getting dizzy, and her body was getting exhausted from the shaking. She looked around desperately with nightsight to find her knives. She could make out two of them, but they were too far to reach. And her stiletto was retracted inside Aqua's back pocket. 

"Does it hurt?" Aqua taunted.

"No, I was just screaming in joy." Nife shot back in a raspy voice. There was a long pause, and the three other Druids looked at each other like they were confused. "...Yes, it hurts!" Nife said finally.

"Good, because you killed my friend." One of them said, though his voice sounded rather calm.

Nife grimaced, pressing her forehead against the disgusting carpet. She hadn't wanted to kill anyone, and she hadn't exactly intended to. She couldn't even care about it like she should--her leg hurt so much, all she wanted was to take a probably-undeserved bath and forget everything.

Finally, Aqua turned away and took something out of his pocket. There was a scrape and snap, and then the glow of a lamp filled the room, getting brighter quickly. He lit another lamp, set them both on a mantle over a fireplace which Nife had only just noticed, and turned back toward her. It was so unexpectedly bright that she closed her eyes.

"What would you do if someone fucked with your friends?" Aqua said to her.

Nife didn't answer that.

"What would you do?" He stepped closer, pointing the toe of his boot toward her burning wound, which was now dripping fresh blood up her shin. "You'd kill 'em, wouldn't you?"

"Hell, I... yes." She whispered.

She'd imagined it plenty of times.

Aqua sighed and put the lantern down nearby. Nife watched his black boots as he stepped over her, knelt and grabbed her by the arm, jerking her over and thumping her onto her back, trapping her tied wrists under her weight. She squinted and blinked in the light, the cooler air brushing over the curls that were plastered to her forehead with tears all over her face. 

Both the younger guys to her left had wounds she'd given them--one a slash across the forearm, the other a deep nick under the chin that was still drizzling blood down onto his collar. 

"Aw, she's a damn baby." One of them said. "What are you, sixteen?"

"Fifteen." She said, failing to keep the shaking out of her voice.

The one by her feet suddenly pointed at her face, frowning in recognition.

"That's--you're Nife Raizden, ain't you?"

She wasn't used to being recognized. Through the mental haze of shock and pain she was in, it didn't make sense the way they all leaned down to inspect her more closely. She managed a shaky little shrug as her instinctive responses kicked in. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," She threw out the worst lie she'd ever come up with. "Nife Raizden? Never heard of her."

Her voice trembled with how ridiculous it was by the time she finished the sentence. She closed her eyes and dropped her head.

"...Fuck."

Nife Raizden was known to be close friends with several Bane noble kids. If they questioned her sympathizer status before, it was going to be concrete now.

After a moment of silence, Nife opened her eyes to see what they were doing, biting her lip anxiously. They were just kind of standing there looking at her and each other.

"...So, we're not actually doing it, right?" One of them said.

Aqua leaned back, looking around alertly even as he slouched.

"Yup." He said. "We're not gonna kill you or anythin." He toed her with his boot. "Come on, get up."

Firmly suspicious, Nife slowly rolled onto her right side to protect her leg and tried to get onto a knee. She immediately cried out and clutched her right thigh, hissing in pain and looking to either side in anticipation of a possible attack for the delay.

One of them held out a hand to help her up.

"Don't--don't." She said, bowing down in another cringe as she felt another wave of pain and prepared to get up. 

She was forced to take the hand, and bit her lips together as she tried to limp toward the stairway where Aqua was leading her.

"I'm trying. Okay?" She quavered, stepping gingerly as the ache shot up her bone. "Just--it fucking hurts. Don't hurt me anymore. Okay?"

"I'm not lyin this time." Aqua said, pinching her arm and pushing her forward between the others as they crossed the room, grabbing lanterns on the way.

"...Yeah, forgive me if I take that with a grain of salt." Her voice quivered.

"Aqua, Nife Raizden is a two-ring." The one that had recognized her was eyeing her cautiously. "She's dangerous."

"So am I." Aqua said. But he snapped open her stiletto and pointed it against the back of her armpit, putting a hand on her other shoulder. 

Nife felt the tip pointing into her armpit, where she'd definitely die if she got stabbed, and hobbled in the direction she was pushed. On every step, her leg stabbed pain up the middle and she had to bite back a cry.

"One foot in the grave..." She hissed through her teeth as the blade at her armpit pushed her into another agonizing step.

On the way up the stairs, she started to believe them a bit more. Aqua was very rough with her, but he also commented that Breeze could be a bit of a murderhobo when civilians got thrown into the mix. They talked like Druids were people that deserved a fair trial and a second chance, as opposed to Banes. 

By the time they reached the third flight of stairs, Staccato, the guy that had recognized her, was elbowing her, saying terrible things about Banes and then saying "right?"

"It musta been horrible being surrounded by them!" He said, sounding gleefully disgusted. "And then even the Druid Informant News sides with them, claiming you're friends with some of 'em. Wrys, of all things."

The mention of Kit and Caboodle Wry warmed her heart a little. 

“It’s not like they’re murderers or anything.” She said pointedly.

From Staccato’s silence, it must’ve gone right over his head.

They ordered her to kick off her boots, because they smelled like blood and rot, and then they all went inside a tiny little attic room together. They put down their lanterns on a desk and took seats around the room, perching on the bed and the only chair. Nife sat down on the floor near the door, finding herself almost too tired to be on edge.

Without giving her more than a glance or two, Aqua went about taking things out of the drawers. Knives, scissors, a long roll of bandages. 

Nife watched with cautious apprehension as he held up the scissors with a wicked grin. Then he shrugged and chuckled, and took the supplies over to the other two instead. He began tending to their wounds.

Not letting herself completely calm down, she rested her chin on her good knee, watching them taking care of each other. She could hardly believe they were the same people that had just kidnapped a random enforcer so they could beat him up and kill him. The same people that had just been kicking her in the wounded leg over and over–and then making her walk on it. She did everything she could to keep it in mind, but she was so tired, her eyes kept trying to close, now that she was sitting down. The pain pulsed, jolting her awake with each one, even though the pulses were only a few seconds apart.

As she heard them talking about the others that she'd killed, she got the sense that they weren't as close as they'd tried to make her think. 

"The only thing that I don't get," Staccato said, "is why she didn't kill me. She had the chance, man. I saw her panic and pull back." His eyes wandered to her. "Why?"

Not lifting her chin off her knees, she shrugged.

"I didn't mean to kill anyone." She said, and then put her forehead down. "...Why does it have to be such a damn mystery what you're going to do with me? Just tell me." Her head was down to hide her trembling chin.

"We're waiting for the guard change at two." Aqua replied. "Then we'll let you go."

After treating the other two DJ's, Aqua snapped his fingers at her. 

"Come ere."

Nife clenched her teeth and lifted her head, noticing that he was casually organizing the medical supplies on the dresser by the lamp. 

"...Why?" She said suspiciously.

"I'm gonna fix your leg."

"...I think not." Nife backed herself against the wall in the corner at the door.

Aqua straightened to look at her over the dresser. He looked mildly disapproving. Nothing like the guy who had just been threatening to torture her twenty minutes ago. 

"Lotta bruising." He observed.

"Maybe you shouldn't have kicked the shit out of it then." She glared.

"Well, I was angry..."

"Oh, so this was just a one time thing," Nife tilted her head, "you don't occasionally lose it and, I don't know, beat and murder a random passerby?"

"Well, are you gonna do it then?" He said, tossing the scissors down.

The forceful gesture made her flinch.

"I... Look, you might not have noticed, but I've just been kidnapped." She said. "Feeling a little angsty. I'd rather just... do it myself."

He eyed her injured leg, which she pulled in protectively as another drip of something ran down onto her ankle. The cut was swollen and red and a torn spot was black underneath.

"You don't know nothin about medicine, huh?" Aqua said. 

Nife looked helplessly at the floor.

"Just get the hell over here." He said. "I could still take this opportunity to get some revenge instead, if I wanted to."

"You're not helping your case." She said, twitching her fingers behind her back under the bindings. "Untie my hands first, and then I'll--"

She stopped when Aqua stepped over to her and grabbed her at the shoulder, fingers pinching into the base of her neck as he yanked her to her feet. The other two got up too, looking weary.

"Time for beat-down number two?" Staccato said.

"Let's not..." Nife said, stomach flipping in fear.

"Good thinking." Aqua said, dumping her onto the bed. "Now just--"

"Why?" Nife said.

"Cause you damn well better remember this," Aqua said, wiping the scissors down with a cloth dipped in iodine. "You're gonna survive and go back and then remember who saved your life from your infected leg."

"My life? What do you mean?"

He huffed and pointed to a black spot under the worst torn part of the wound. "It's the rot. That goes to your heart, well... You don't wanna know."

Nife's eyes widened.

"You can stop... that?"

Aqua nodded. 

"One vampire is enough to have on my hands, thank you very much."

That confirmed what "the teeth" meant.

He approached her with the scissors, making little unnecessary practice snips in the air in her direction. Her eyes widened.

"You're not gonna wanna watch this. Unless you got a high pain tolerance."

"On the contrary..." Nife grimaced, then lay back, looking at the plaster ceiling. 

He did something that felt like tearing the muscle off her leg, and she screamed– 

"Ah, hell!" Her leg jerked away and she tried to roll away from him on the bed.

"Low pain tolerance indeed" He grabbed her ankle and yanked her back toward him. "You could at least lay still."

"I can see the serial killer in you again." She said, lying back down and turning partly away to give her hands some time without being squished under her back. Her breath was coming in short pants now as she prepared herself for another burst of searing pain.

"You know it's those screams they make when they die, that lets me sleep at night." Aqua said.

"What... is wrong with you?" She muttered.

"Would you rather I listen to the screams of my daughters instead?"

He did something that felt like tearing the muscle off her leg, and another shriek burst out of her, feet twisting together on the bed. 

Whatever he was doing, he didn't stop, but he put a knee down on her thigh to stop her from flinching away.

"They dragged them out, beat them, raped them, killed them, twenty-four years ago." He said as he worked with savage roughness. "I hear them every morning when I go to bed. Every morning that I didn't take out another one of those Bane bastards."

He looked around at her face to see if she was going to make a sarcastic comment. Seeing she didn't respond, he sighed and reached back for the iodine bottle. She tried not to watch as he gripped down tight on her leg.

"How'd you learn to fight without being willing to kill anybody?"

"Character deficiency." Nife answered through her teeth. How could he talk at a time like this?

"Got any hobbies?"

Nife bit her lip as her leg burned like mad. He was digging something into it--that's how it felt, anyway.

"Stop--squirming." Aqua said.

That was what Markee had said before he started coming down on her with the rapier sheath. He'd thrown a chair onto her legs to trap her and her elbows bruised against the floor as she tried to escape. Then the blows came down on her back--she was trapped like that, forced to take the beating. She bit her lip, trying to bring herself back to the present as a feeling of helplessness sucked her down like the rot. She hated being trapped.

"Fuck." She whispered. Another surge of burning brought her back to the present.

"Whatever you're doing, keep it up. Almost done." Aqua said. "So. Education? I can tell you got one."

Nife grimaced; now all she could think of was Markee. She focused back in on the burn and sting.

"What?" Aqua said. "Do you like focusing on the pain, or are you going to let me distract you?"

"I hope you get shot." She whispered. She could tell he was being rougher than he needed to be; he kept poking her with his thumb. She realized that the yanking tearing feeling was him sewing up the wide end of the cut. "Please tell me you're done."

"I'm done." He said, then jerked at the thread. "Just kidding."

"I hope you get shot." She groaned again. "Bastard."

When he finally wrapped up her leg in gauze, all the while reminding her that she better pay him back for saving her life, she collapsed on the bed, shiny with sweat, panting into the dusty sheet.

"You're really not going to kill me," She said hoarsely.

"No."

"You just wanted to beat me up, fix my leg, and let me go." She said, disbelief clear in her tone.

"...I don't kill Druids, no matter how much they deserve it." He said, standing up from the bed. "Now get off. Me and Staccato get to sit there."

"I need a rest--" Nife was interrupted by a pinching grasp at the back of her neck and her leg as he hauled her off and tossed her onto the floor. 

She bit her lip and moved into the corner miserably as the two of them sat down. 

"You ain't worried she's gonna talk?" Staccato said quietly to Aqua.

"Druids don't talk." Aqua said. "Right, Nife?"

Nife lifted her head from her knees to glare at him, then nodded and dropped her head.

"See?" 

"My hands are dying over here." She said. They were cold and swollen behind her, and her wrists and shoulders were straining.

"Say please." Aqua said.

Nife picked up her head and scowled at him.

"No."

Staccato stood up and walked toward her, drawing a machete. She watched him cautiously, but he sat down next to her with his back against the door. 

"Hey, you're not really on the Bane team, yeah?" He said. "You're not actually all 'go Wick'?"

"No, I totally just took a beating for nothing." Nife said.

He put the machete behind her and, to her surprise, cut the rope. She looked at him and realized he'd taken her sarcasm seriously.

"I knew it." He said. "You're a good one."

Nife sighed.

"You gotta learn to stand up for yourself, man." He said. "You let us push you around. You shoulda fought back."

"How was I supposed to know he was actually going to punch me?" Nife said. “Let alone… all  the rest of that.”

"You're a two-ring, man." Staccato said. He lifted his hand and flicked her in the temple. "You coulda done better."

She dropped her head onto her knees again, rolling her eyes.

"See?" He said. "Just gonna let me do that?"

She was rubbing her hands together under her legs, getting the circulation back.

"You gonna let me do that?" He flicked her in the head again.

"I decide when I fight back, not you, not anybody else." She said. 

The next time he tried to flick her, she grabbed his hand and looked him in the eye, hers half-lidded with veiled irritation.

"What you gonna do if I do it again?" Staccato said.

"Nobody can make me do shit." She let go of his hand and huddled her head between her knees. 

She grimaced and closed her eyes to keep from remembering. There had been one time she'd fought back; the time that Markee had left her with bruises all over her back, and a fear permanently etched into her mind. The sword sheath battering down on her back. The panic as she struggled to escape from the bare heel that pinned her down. Leaving marks that made it hurt to breathe for a full month afterward.

"Father, I didn't fall, he did this to me!" She had shouted at him.

"I knew you hated class, but I didn't know you hated it this much." Her father had shot a sympathetic look at Markee.

"Just hire a different tutor!" She'd shouted.

"Two words, Nife," Her father said, with another glance at Markee. "Markee Wry. He's the best there is."

The real reason was that firing a Wry would've been terrible for business.

She took two important things from that moment.

Firstly, that if Nife Raizden tells the truth, nobody will believe her.

Secondly, that if Nife fights back, she might lose.

She was asleep when two o'clock hit. A now-familiar pinching grasp on her arm woke her up as she was dragged to her feet.

She noticed the others didn't follow her as Aqua guided her out.

He waved at the sentry as they left the hall out a door that opened onto a fire escape. The sentry nodded at him.

"Someone else piss off Breeze?" She said.

"Yup." Aqua sighed. "Alright. You can go. And you better remember what I did for you, Nife."

"Give me my stiletto." Nife said.

"Think of it as a deposit." Aqua said, smiling.

Nife grabbed his shirt and put her face right in his face; she could smell his smiling teeth.

"Keep the boots." She said. 

She stared him in the eyes, and put her hand past his arm, into his back pocket. She pulled out the stiletto and he raised his hands half-mockingly, stepping back.

"Alright, alright." He said. "But don't forget me."

"Oh trust me, I won't." She glared and went down the fire escape, turning the knife comfortingly in her hands.

After that, she knew a good place to hide out--the clocktower in Oldtown.

First chapter: Previous (to see the first half of this beat-down)

Next chapter:

Taglist: @tildeathiwillwrite @mimostic @fleur-a-whump @a-n-j-a-maria

Per Tumblr's content policy, this is the non-nsfw version of Dance of Death.

For anyone following along on this story that wants the canon NSFW version of the story, you can get the book on amazon for $0.99, but I just want to make it possible for anyone to access.

If you like this book, it would mean so much to me if you leave a review of Dance of Death on Amazon.

[nebulouscoffee]

✦ ✄ and ▵ for ‘Who We Are’?

Thank youuu <333

✦ what was your easiest fic to write & your hardest? - 'Progress' might've been the easiest; it was only about 3k words long (and, unlike almost every other attempt at a oneshot I've made, didn't accidentally turn into a multichapter!) I also just think my desire for Kira Nerys to be happy is a very powerful force. Like I wrote it over one evening😂 Hardest would probably be a tie between 'Butter Through An Hourglass' (Sisko falls through time fic), 'When The Fighting Stops' (the life of Kira Nerys as told through Bajoran prophecy), and 'Live With It' (Sisko & Garak post-canon Cardassia dialogue-only). But since I have posted none of those, I'll admit the last two chapters of 'Who We Are' have been giving me trouble

✄ what’s your editing process? - step one: keep editing things even as you write the chapter so you end up making very little progress. step two: go back and edit some of the previous chapters actually! why not! step three: agonise over tiny little phrases forever, make 204 changes, and then close the doc for two months. step four: revisit it and find like 15 new ideas to incorporate now. step five: only open it again a whole month later and go "hmm this chapter is about 3000 words too long actually! gotta cut it down! time to be merciless!!" and step six: somehow end up making it 4759 words longer instead

(lol okay editing is not my strong suit, but I do have ONE good tip, which is change the font or switch to reading on your phone between edits. Just seeing those same lines but visually different always makes me notice things I stop noticing in the same format!)

▵ pick a fic and I’ll tell you my favorite line - ooooh this is hard, because I know it's from the Trippy Ezri Joining Section but it's all so intertwined I really don't know how to pick it apart! My favourite bit is probably when she sees Benjamin in that cosmic kitchen and talks to him outside of linear time lol, but it's more that whole concept than any one line in particular. Though I do like this moment a lot:

Benjamin is watching her with some undefinable look in his eye. “Memory is a complicated, confusing, and… phenomenal thing,” he murmurs, his voice low and clear as the space between stars. “And yes, it can be poisonous at times. Believe me, I know. It can kill. It can drown. But- Ezri, if you want to survive when the tide comes in-” He reaches out, gently cups the sides of her face, and suddenly, everything feels so simple… “You let it take you.” She lets out a shuddering breath, wishing she could look in his eyes forever. “I’ll die.” “No.” Benjamin smiles. “You’ll soar.”

This friendship means so, so much to me, and I really wanted to capture the way these two characters seem to be like, cosmically bound to each other? Platonic soulmates who will find each other in every lifetime, etc. Ezri is struggling with this massively traumatic non-linear experience, losing herself as 300 years of memories are suddenly being dumped into her brain- and here in the middle of it is the one person who can make it make sense, finding her in the dark. Giving her a safe place to catch her breath, but also the pep talk she needs to stop rejecting the symbiont and get through the joining! And basically, his advice is let go. Don't try sorting things out, don't make sense of things, don't psychoanalyse yourself- and definitely don't try to make Dax's emotions/memories linear. Now, is this a hallucination? Is this the worm telling her to find Benjamin through a half-conscious dream? Is this Benjamin himself, helping her out non-linearly from the Celestial Temple post-canon? Who knows! The important thing is, Ben knows a thing or two about living multiple lives, and how emotions can displace a person from time- and yes, he is going to explain it to her through food metaphors :)

[flockrest]

mun(day) questions / @sentinaels, @vigilantdesert, & @stygicniron

thank you lots for these! ♡ very fun to think about and answer! all under the cut because it's a doozy. i am not a concise person, what can i say :'D

when did you first start writing?

in the roleplaying context, ten years ago ( half of which i took a hiatus for aslfkjsdl )! core memory, no joke, i can still very keenly remember weird details of the day it all started. as a hobby, this started way back before i even hit secondary school! i was not an objectively good writer, but no tween really is. i had lots of fun and all the cringefail phases i've gone through since have helped me get to where i am now in my writing development — i can at least say i'm happy with where i'm at with that! and i'm still having fun! ♡

in what language did you start writing?

online? english....my beloathed. very ironic, i know aslkfjdsl

if your mother tongue is not the language you write now, what caused you to switch languages?

quite honestly for the engagement! then simply because i feel i got better at writing in english than i could in vietnamese — my education for both differed, especially in my adolescent years, and i've practiced literacy in this context more for english than i have for viet.

i am still very insecure about my grasp of english in online spaces though ( my writing process involves a lot of me searching up even the simplest words to ensure their meaning and that they will convey what i want you to feel, i still forget words or mix phrases up — sorry to my dm buddies when this happens btw — and my editing is so time-consuming because i have to often cut things or rephrase them to avoid being redundant ), which is why i have that it's my second language disclaimer alfjslfk

what was the first muse that you’ve written?

my first ever muse was my lovely queen zelda from twilight princess! she saw me through a lot of my roleplaying firsts, honestly. she still holds such a special place in my heart because of all the experiences writing her allowed me to make, as well as all the wonderful people i befriended through her that i still haven't forgotten about to this day!

( i always find myself missing one in particular when the mood hits, because we were years-long mains during what felt like the peak of the zelda rpc prime and she was as close to an exclusive affiliate i'd ever get. i hope you've been doing super well out there, my liege!! if we ever somehow get to writing again, y'all will just not be ready for my unhinged status over her link, and my zelda, and the midzelink we've crafted entire worlds over, and that is a promise aflkjdsj )

do you still write your first muse?

unfortunately, no! i have dipped in and out with her before, but i don't know if i'll ever return to her now when i've got so many others wrangling for my time and energy...i think i would like to if i got the opportunity to regularly write with twilight princess muses again :) zelda was a more character-contained muse, in that i studied less of the world-lore around her and more of her, her dynamics, and her relationships, so activity would be very slow and pretty contingent on level of interest from others aslkfdjf

what caused you to start writing? what was your key point?

okay. don't laugh at me please. i'm pretty sure this is a connecting point for a few of us. but for fanfic purposes, of course asflkjds i started reading fics before i started writing any, and only began doing so because there was such a dearth of the stories that catered specifically to my niche whims and wants that past ray was like "FINE. i'll do it myself"

now, fr, you gotta promise to not laugh at me. the want for a more interactive experience didn't really hit until i discovered tumblr ask blogs, wherein i wanted to have a try at running one myself! then that evolved into more writing than art...then i just leaned into roleplaying wholeheartedly asflkjdf everybody say thank you to artists for inspiring artists!

have you ever written a canon muse that you first thought of ‘meh’ when they appeared in their canon show/movie/book?

not that i can think of, no! i don't tend to pick up muses i don't feel super invested in. if it's meh in the more oh this character SUCKS sense, then i guess. rauru? like i love that funky fellow, or at least huge parts of him that i'll steal from nintendo because man what the fuck were they doing with him, but he seems to be my most polarising muse in terms of audience reception aflksjdla this isn't a dig at anyone for that btw!!

how far do you go with divergencies when it comes to your canon muse?

as far as it'll take for me to be satisfied with them! this ofc differs with every muse, but i try to keep general characterisations unchanged — or at least the parts of them that stand out to me and feel crucial to who my muses are.

e.g. i ignored the entirety of the hidden world when it came to writing toothless from httyd, because its depiction of his behaviour ( and hence, implicated thoughts ) was so extremely Bad Tier, i was flabbergasted that it came from the same writer as httyd2. there was, imo, such a huge gap between the toothless of httyd2 and the toothless of the hidden world in terms of characterisation and character development ( ESPECIALLY with what it did to his bond with hiccup. i'm still infuriated about that ) that i had an entire rewrite where things might've ended the same way, but it would've taken a different road for berk to get there in the works.

that's when canon has disappointed me to the extreme, though aflkdslj i have misgivings about totk, yes, but i doubt you'll be seeing unprompted >2.5k words essays from me regarding my birdies or even rauru ( if only because nintendo didn't give us enough about him to make me feel like they fucked up beyond words ) anytime soon.

with rauru, anyway, it's more of a..."i am construing him differently; you couldn't make him palatable despite clearly wanting to do so, so i'm making him 'palatable' ( in the HE AND HIS FAULTS ARE SO INTERESTING I WANT TO EXPLORE THEM IN A WAY THAT DOESN'T HAVE ME GAGGING sense ); also i think you make him way too important without actually committing to the bit, so i'm gonna give him so many complexes about it" case.

[oldmanpuppyplay]

58, 51, 49 and 40

58. Movie where your favorite actor was the only good part?

Might be swinging at a hornets nest but Mrs Doubtfire which i feel like we all have nostalgic memories about if we saw it as kids because Williams is incredibly charming but i'm not treading new ground to say that its actually a bad movie in almost every other way. Harvey Fierstein as a gay makeup artist couldnt save this one for me if I tried to watch it again now. Like i'll do it but every time i do I chip away at the fond memories of childhood. Oh, except "It was a run by fruiting" which will never not be the funniest goddamn phrase on the planet.

51. A movie that was better than the book?

I was originally trying to think of a book i hated but turns out when i hate a book i dont enjoy the movie much better and there arent many books i liked that got made into movies that are either better or worse because i tend to find them just Different BUT - I gotta go with Oliver and Company. I like they made everyone singing animals. Every Dicken's novel would be improved by casting Billy Joel to sing his heart out.

49. A disappointing film from your favorite director?

God babe you're gonna make all my millennial and gen-x mutuals crucify me for this one but, like, Spaceballs is just okay.

40. Directors you’d like to see work together?

Easy, Frank Henenlotter and John Waters. Make Henelotter gayer i'm not asking 🔫. Or I guess the Coen Brothers and Wes Anderson?? Listen I think they could make each other worse and i'd be curious how that goes.

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Tell me a story about James Dean

I'm at a party, the party was a bad idea because I have a final exam coming up and should be studying, but it's too late to work now anyway, it's like nine at night, I might as well stay a while. I'm getting moderately drunk, which feels pleasantly adventurous, my usual state of mind is that I'm a little bit drunk at all times, and I'm not feeling the sort of anxious overload that tends to bring about inebriation, so what's the harm.

The house is spacious, it's not a suburban house or anything, it's more the sort of house that you'd expect to find in the center of an American city. It was built a while ago, as old as a person my age can be and still be new, and it doesn't have a special style, it's not a minimalist condo or a weird shack or anything -- it's just a huge white house with enough empty space to show off, a house designed for big, slow parties like this one. I've walked around the house a few times now and it doesn't seem as big as it looks from the outside. The rooms are large and varied enough that they seem distinctive, not like just large enlargements of each other, but in reality they're all pretty much the same shape and size: rectangular, low-ceilinged, mostly white, often with strange partitions that divide the space up in weird ways.

There are a lot of high-quality alcoholic drinks here, and some food, and a DJ who can do some sort of clever tricks with records -- a couple of times, he's played the same record repeatedly, and the music never loops but instead becomes weirder and weirder each time. (Every beat is like an extra beat -- there's two of them every time.) This has a hypnotic effect and it's hard to notice the repetition. Or maybe it's a different record each time -- I'm not sure, because I've been drinking and the DJ is not wearing a label that says "DJ," just a black "Staff" t-shirt. I'm in a strange state -- I'm unfamiliar with lots of the other people here (I've met a few people from the Internet, but they're mingling with the crowd and I don't know where they are), but I'm not shy or self-conscious, perhaps because of the alcohol, but I don't think so, I think it's something else. I'm having a strange conversation with some people, but they're friendly and easy to talk to. Someone takes my glass and refills it with what I hope is gin.

And then I notice him. He's already been in the room for a while, and I have a vague sense that he's been drifting from group to group, nodding and exchanging phrases in a friendly way. He's probably about 30, handsome but not too handsome, tall and wiry, dressed in some kind of abstractly urban manner: dark jeans, black blazer, sunglasses, white tennis shoes, a green baseball cap. His hair is a bit long and curly and I am drunk enough to find this appealing. I'm drunk enough to be staring at him, too, so I get a smile from him in return. I am a little bit drunk enough to feel like, if I were to ask this person to sleep with me, I would get a positive response. We get into a conversation and I'm making a lot of sense, and it's pleasant and all, but nothing special -- this is pretty standard drunk behavior. "So who are you?" he asks. "Oh, just some guy." "Nah, you gotta have a name," he says, and this is cute. "How about you?" "It's James Dean," he says. "You want it?"

I'm not really up for sex right now, but it's probably too late for me to say no. But I am drunk enough to imagine the situation well enough to see that I can say no without too many complications. "Yeah," I say, "I'll take it. But, you know, it's probably too early for me to do anything, I'm pretty drunk and --"

"It's okay," he says. "I'm totally fine with that. Just . . . follow me?" He shows me a large room that I hadn't noticed before, mostly empty except for a bed and a table with some stuff on it. On the table is a large red envelope.

"Go on," he says. "Have a look in there." I pick up the envelope and peer inside. "It's something to remember me by." There is a card inside, with a picture and the name "James Dean." And, of course, there is something else: a small, blue-ish square pill.

I pick it up. "What do you take this for?"

Keep reading

[roboromantic]

5 6 7 am thoughts

why do I keep seeing posts on this website insist that evangelicals try to convert prople just to have a larger "number of souls savef" count than others. like maybe that's a thing in some groups but like................I've never heard of any kind of reward for converting more people or anything.

also I gotta say it's a tad frustrating seeing people talk about how Mormonism is a cult and these kids are brainwashed into believing the world's against them etc. and being sympathetic and sharing resources on how to leave, but posts on evangelicals just paint them as cartoonishly evil. sometimes I'll see something that says it's a cult but there's never anything on how to leave (though admitedly it's gonna generally be less legally complicated than it is for mormons) or talk about how evangelicals are also made to believe that the world is against them or how evangelicals try to convert you because they truely believe it would save you from eternal torture.

like now that I'm out I see how infuriating it is to be proselytized to, but growing up in it? I was a super lonely kid who tried to make people more christian according to CoC values bc I was terrified of losing the few friends I had. also there was literal animal abuse involved where we were told we were bad people if we were more likely to rush to help the goldfish they fucking threw on the pavement than to try and save people from hell

like. when you're fundamentalist there's really no room to respect other people's beliefs, because respecting their beliefs (and boundaries) would mean condemning them to eternal torture

so again I get why people hate it and I definitely understand now how it's used to eradicate cultures etc. but I find it hard to hate the individual who from their perspective is just trying to help me

ironically though the insistence on isolating me and saying that anyone who isn't CoC was probably one of the biggest reasons I ended up leaving. how could heaven be this perfect place if my friends weren't there

there was this post in r/judaism linking to an article talking abt svara's upcoming teshuvot for lgbt halacha and it's something I've been keeping an eye on for a while for obvious reasons, but while I don't want to make any judgements until the whole thing is actually released, I will say from the phrasing in the article it sounds like they're approaching it from a different angle than I would. like it seems to be "how can I affirm my gender in a Jewish way" and while I can 100000% understand that, I'm more interested in "what are the issues that arise when someone is (in my case) halachically female but looks male and is it possible to resolve these issues in a way that's respectful to everyone and if so, how?"

like. there was another post by a trans man wanting to figure out how to respectfully interact w/Chabad and someone else (I think) brought up this same idea of one's halachic gender vs I think they called it sociological gender and it was kinda weird to me seeing so many people talk about how that's not a thing, can never be a thing, halachic gender is the only important factor, etc. bc like. I highly doubt anyone would say my halachic gender is all that matters if my bearded, flat-chested, (sorta) deep-voiced ass went to sit on the women's side of a mechitza. hell, I KNOW that'd cause a problem, I've seen it happen.

like personally I'd be fine with a trichitza, I ain't trying to sit with men (though again I can understand why being able to sit with one's gender can be affirming for binary cis people) and I don't particularly want to sit with women either even if marit ayin wasn't an issue.

where was i going with this. idk it's like 2 hours after i started writing this and im tired and still don't have adhd meds, this was never gonna be coherent im gonna try to go back to sleep

[letthemyeetcake]

I'm real late to the game with reading fanfiction. Like, real late. But that comes with some rather interesting side effects. The biggest thing is that there are so many turns of phrase that are endemic to fanfics that simply aren't in books. Or they are at least used far more infrequently. And, look, I ain't gonna gatekeep. But I will say that I currently find some of them distracting. I'll prolly get used to them, though, and some are more distracting than others. Some observations are as follows.

Humming while talking

Example: "This is an example," he hummed.

How... how do you hum while you talk? Do you hum before or after you talk? Unless you want to sound like a bee, I suppose. Or a living kazoo. Let that image live rent free in your head. You're welcome! I'm far more used to it being written out. Like "Hmm. This is an example." Or if it's standalone from works, just saying he/she/they hummed.

Eyes blown wide

Example: Their eyes blew wide in shock.

Ooookay so this one really distracts me. What does this mean? Did someone blow their eyes open with hurricane-force wind? Shove dynamite into their eye sockets? It's such a violent image in my head even for shock a character might experience. And it's eeeeverywheeere in fanfic. Why not use "their eyes flew open" or "Their eyes widened?" Where did this come from? I want some linguistics research to track this down.

Huffing

Example: She huffed in irritation.

This one wouldn't really be distracting since I often see it in books, if it weren't for the fact that it is used everywhere. So it kinda falls into this literary uncanny valley for me. Like, yeah, I see it often, but not to the point where it has become invisible turn of phrase. So the fact that it is used just, like, everywhere, in fanfic really stands out to me.

Carding through hair

Example: His hands carded through his hair.

This is another one that I see in literature but not nearly as often as I see it in fanfic. In books I am much more likely to see something like "He ran his fingers through his hair." And like, carding doesn't feel like bad turn of phrase to me by any means. Its just the frequency of its usage that stands out.

Chirping

Example: "Oh no!" They chirped.

Is your character a bird? No? Are they a small child with a light, high-pitched voice? If not, then why would anything that anyone says sound like a high pitched bird chirping? Gotta admit, this one is a pet (heh) peeve of mine. Again, I don't want to gatekeep. But personally it just grates and makes me reread a sentence a couple of times. Especially when it's ascribed to a character that has no business making such a noise.

The Other

Example: She looked over to the other and smiled.

The other what? THE OTHER WHAT??? Ahem. Sorry. It's just... that needs a noun after it. Or... something. Otherwise it just leaves me hanging. It feels really vague and impersonal. Unless it's meant to be a different turn of phrase, like "Looking back and forth between one another." which is fairly invisible to me because it's just kinda common to literature. But just "Other?" I almost never see it used this way in books, so it makes my head stumble a bit expecting some kind of followup. I suppose you could say that I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. ;D

Anyway, I'm sure there's other phrases that I'm simply not thinking about right now. And again, do what ya want. Far be it for me to dictate how English, the sweet Ship of Theseus of a language that it is, should be. And all languages move and change. All I ask is that when you write, be intentional in what you put to page. Doesn't have to be the first draft- that's a nice path to Anxietytown. But as you edit and massage things.

[flovverworks]

"Are you like, really close to any of them in particular? The group you got flashbang pack-bonded with." They're peeling off their eyepatch as they ask the not-mirror their weird, clumsy inquiry: they haven't even truly asked who they even have in their assortment, haven't even checked to see if they have any different people (the possibility that maybe, someone doesn't exist, someone else is in their place, it plagues them like mold on six week old sliced bread). The cloth carefully removed, placed in their lap so softly as if it's a hair ribbon and not a covering for the aftermath of their own hubris, they turn to face their companion: other Akira, same name, slightly different meanings. Two-in-one, but not the same, like a set of earrings where the colors accidentally were mismatched. "I'm good friends with one of them, even if he complains. Probably wouldn't tell him directly, but I do think I like him more than just a friend. I'll tell you that much, so you don't gotta feel awkward now, okay?"

It's curious, the way they phrase it. Picking favorites wasn't something Akira was willing to do (with the exception of Riquet's hopeful eyes that one time), the time ticking by already leaving an uncomfortable feeling in their chest. How do you choose between your children, how do you choose between all the cats in the world, how do you choose between the people you love—but that's not what they're asked. Closeness is something they forced. In the guise of wishing the Sage after them to have an easier time adapting, to ensure the wizards didn't have to explain their dislike for certain situations year after year. It must've been uncomfortable, sharing your life with someone you just met. They hoped it to become useful one day—and that's not what they were asked either.

The curiosity (or maybe it's fear for what happened to only one of them) about their eye takes the backseat, their love for love stronger than their current habit of asking questions too personal. How romantic (how painful) to fall for someone in the world you were whisked to, like words straight out of a drama. Was it difficult to meet the him in this place? Or were they different so it didn't matter? (They didn't dare to consider that their wizards weren't the same.)

"I'm happy for you", they start, their interest in wishing to know more about it obvious. "Um, I mean, I'm sure it's very difficult. I don't have anyone like that, but thinking that I have to leave here one day..." for a moment the awe dies. "So if I was in love with any of them...I think I'd feel 'this is unfair'", a tragic romance, voiced with care. It hadn't been here, but their own heart had spoken those words before. Love wasn't easy, and even so they stayed so utterly enamored. "I hope you can tell him someday. It's a miracle you and I met, so maybe it'll work out! If you need any advice I'd love it if you asked me", and so the excitement returns, hoping that they'd eventually find out more about the wizard they didn't mention by name.

"As for me..." they do pause, searching their feelings to make sure, when in reality they already knew the moment the words left their mouth. "...Cain", ah, they had spoken of their affection for most of them in front or to them, and yet, doing it like this, had them feeling shy. Like the two of them were sharing secrets rather than curious questions. "When I first got here he was the one who listened to me", had the two of them shared the same start? Or did things already diverge back there. "He has this way of always making me feel like things will work out no matter what, I know he has a lot of things burdening him that he doesn't speak about, but I'm very grateful for him", they don't look at the other, instead holding their gaze slightly to the side while reminiscing all the times Cain had been looking out for them, and hoping they could repay even a fraction of that. "I don't know how close we are, but I think if I knew someone like him back in my world, life would be a bit more bearable."

[that-was-anticlimactic]

corey where can i read the httyd books like asap

delfi my Absolute Beloved !!! i am Grinning So Widely holy trash

[also sorry i took so long to get back to you, i took a shower and was in there for like an hour mentally ranting about--that's not relevant and will probably make some people mad or something idk anyways--]

okay imma go in order of books so this is like. Major list for you 😁

how to train your dragon: pdf | audiobook

how to be a pirate: pdf | audiobook

how to speak dragonese: pdf | audiobook

how to cheat a dragon's curse: pdf | audiobook

how to twist a dragon's tale: pdf | audiobook

a hero's guide to deadly dragons: pdf | audiobook**

how to ride a dragon's storm: pdf* | audiobook

how to break a dragon's heart: pdf | audiobook

how to steal a dragon's sword: pdf | audiobook

how to seize a dragon's jewel: pdf | audiobook

how to betray a dragon's hero: pdf | audiobook

how to fight a dragon's fury: pdf | audiobook

bonus: a fun guide that's for teachers to use to teach the book but also has a lot of cool information about vikings as well as world building that i suggest looking at for funsies

*note: had trouble finding a legit / good pdf from six (how to ride...) onward, so those were the best that i could get and you should just be able to download most like the others ??? some websites seemed sketchy but i could be wrong. audiobooks are all completely safe tho

**note: this is weird because they repeat the story like twice ??? like it is the whole story and legit, but then it like starts over once it ends lol

so, the audiobooks are Incredible ! like. no joke. i actually relistened to them back in like. march / april / may, that area and i Loved it ! actually, fun fact, david tennant recorded them and he does a phenomenal job !!! he gets super into character and does different voices for everyone and is just all around Incredible ! they are a pleasure to listen to!

another thing i'll add is that cressida adds her own pictures and i'm pretty sure none of these include her pictures which is sad :/ but maybe some do ! the art is really cute ! she also includes things in the middle of the books like a guide on certain words or phrases and how to say them in dragonese or pages from hiccup's personal guide to dragon's book which gives you, the reader, more information about the dragons hiccup and the gang are facing, seeing, interacting with! the audiobook includes those, but idk about the pdfs!

i hope you enjoy them because these books were like. my childhood. i vividly remember that i once had a (poorly drawn) map hanging on my wall of the world in relation to berk and where all of the different viking tribes were ! the characters are all unique and quirky and wait also

do Not let the silliness of the first few books make you stop because they get so much more mature as they go on. not to make a harry potter reference because screw jkr, but like, you wouldn't put goblet of fire as the first hp book. you gotta work up to the genuine seriousness, you gotta introduce the characters and establish world building and that's what the first three, four, books does ! cressida is a super clever author too, and everything she writes matters, even if it's later on. it's incredible to watch the books mature, i remember reading every book as they came out and being blown away every time. i was just a kid, tho, so rereading / listening to them makes me gape sometimes because wow there are some serious / darker themes that are handled Really Well.

the books also have Incredible representation for their time, imo, especially with gender roles (which is even more impactful when camicazi comes in in book three) and disabilities (fishlegs is a Huge person here and i love him) (toothless also works here too because he has a stutter), amongst other things. and none of these things are ever made fun of in a way that seems legit. the people who make fun of them are the jerks or the villains or the people you aren't supposed to like. it's just. ahhhhh! they're so good and i have Many Feelings i could go on forever about how much i adore these books wow wow wow but i shall stop now so i do not spoil anything major because i am Great at accidentally spoiling lol

fun extra analysis posts i love under cut oops

x

x -- do NOT read this one until you finish the series because major spoilers but Great analysis

x

x to go along with x

x

x

x

not a post but just me here saying that camicazi is an aroace lesbian thanks and also hiccup is on the aro spectrum i don’t make the rules

okay i’ll stop there lol

[rosarrie]

Hello!

I've been writing songs for an year or so now and I really enjoy it. It actually started as a side hobby to my poetry writing. I've even come up with tunes for them and dream of turning my poems into songs someday. But beyond thinking up a tune and writing the lyrics, I'm not getting anywhere because I can't play any instrument and I'm out of practice with my singing. Is there any advice that you can give for turning lyrics into songs? And maybe also suggest some forums where I can interact with others like me?

I'm really glad to know that you write songs so I can ask someone about this. Thank you so much and all the best with your work!!

Much love :)

hello!! I LOVE THIS QUESTION because I also really struggled with songwriting at the beginning. I use to also solely write poetry when I was younger, and always thought of the two as completely different from each other.

I guess, still to this day, when I write a song, I'm writing it with the vision of it being turned into music. Compared to if I were to write a poem, I don't typically make it with that thought in the back of my mind. I think this rlly changes the creative process, for me at least.

The way I write my music is usually I'll sit down with some sort of instrumental (it can be smth I found off youtube, a looped sampled, or even just 2 chords strummed continuously on the ukulele) and just make sounds for like 40 minutes. I'll try to find melodies and phrases that I can build off, sometimes with a prompt if I get stuck and can't think of anything.

Incorporating the poetry part, my advice is allowing the structure of your lyrics/poem to be subject to change with the melody of the song, sometimes I'll go through 3 - 4 different renditions of the same line until I feel like it fits in the song. Changing words to fit better, the way that the sentence is structured, just small things.

Don't let not knowing an instrument limit you!! u can literally just go to youtube, type in "(insert favourite artist here) type beat instrumental" find something you like, and start moving around your lyrics to try and fit the melody. sometimes ill take a little snippet of an instrumental, and loop it for something simpler to sing over.

as for forums, I literally met the majority of my current music friends through soundcloud and discord LMAO. there's plenty of music discord servers out there, and so many amazing musicians on soundcloud, u just gotta get involved and reach out!!

I HOPE THIS HELPS sorry it's so many words HAHA i love talking about this kind of stuff.

good luck with your songwriting!!!

[helloalycia]

my patient’s neighbour [one] // wanda maximoff

summary: whilst caring for a new patient of yours, you definitely didn't expect to fall for her cute neighbour, Wanda Maximoff

warning/s: very minor mentions of injuries and death

author's note: okay so firstly, buckle in, folks, this is gonna be like 6 parts long lol. Also, I google translated all the Russian bits so i apologise if they are incorrect! okay, you may enjoy now :)

part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | masterlist | wattpad

"38... 38... 38..."

I scanned the doors to the many apartments in the hall, hoping to find the one that belonged to my newest patient – Anna Pivec. As a nurse, I was always given new patients to visit and tend to until they no longer needed it or chose not to have me around. I'd just been assigned a new patient, Anna, and was excited to meet her.

"38!" I said to myself, spotting the door at the end of the hallway. I knocked on before waiting patiently, hoping she wasn't sleeping or anything. It wasn't too early – 10AM – and she knew I was coming, so finger's crossed.

The door opened to reveal a short, old lady with grey hair and a cane in her hand. I smiled kindly, meeting her cloudy gaze.

"You must be the one my granddaughter is paying to look after me because she can't do it herself," the woman spoke before I could introduce myself. Stepping to the side, she motioned with her cane. "Come on in."

My smile dropped at her abruptness. "I, er, yeah, I guess that's me." As I walked in, I said, "My name is Y/N Y/L/N. The nurse from–"

"Yeah, I know where you're from," she cut me off, closing the door and heading further into her apartment. "They sent me a brochure, milaya."

I followed after her, surprised at how quick she was for an old lady with back and heart problems. She was leading me into the open plan living-room and kitchen.

"I'm sorry – milaya? What does that mean?" I asked politely, hoping I didn't come across as rude.

She waved her hand dismissively, mumbling something to herself in what I think was Russian. Her profile did say she was from Sokovia, so maybe that was it.

"Okay, erm, well, as I said," I changed the subject, figuring she wouldn't give me an answer, "I'm Y/N. I'll be here five times a week and basically be doing anything you need me to do. Of course, I only want you to be comfortable in your own home, so if you ever feel anything but, please let me know."

She hummed in acknowledgement before motioning for me to follow her. I set my bag on the kitchen counter before sitting on the couch as she did so on the recliner. She sighed with content as the pain on her back was eased from taking a seat.

"Tell me about yourself," she said gently.

I smiled with amusement. "That's usually what I ask my patients."

"Do forgive me, milaya," she said, and I made a mental note to bring a Russian-English dictionary with me tomorrow, "but you're a stranger in my home. I'd prefer to know about you before I let you take care of me."

I nodded, slightly impressed. Her profile didn't do her justice. Usually, the elderly I cared for were quick to allow me to do my thing, never really questioning who I was or what my intentions were. I was starting to get the impression that Anna was a strong, stubborn woman in a little old lady's body – definitely not one to mess around with.

"Okay, well, I'm a nurse," I began with the basics, and from there, went into a long ramble about my job, how I got into it, what it consisted of...

Anna was full of questions, taking the time to get to know me and I her. Once I had told her everything I could think to, she told me about her life. How she lived in Sokovia up until she was thirty-five years old and had to flee with her husband and daughter because of the war. She gushed about the both of them, a twinkle in her eye as she recalled their livelihoods like they were still alive. Her husband had unfortunately passed many years ago due to liver problems – "All that drinking, milaya! Us Sokovians are a force to be reckoned with!" – and her daughter had passed in a car accident not long after.

It was a tragic tale, but she didn't let it bring her down. In fact, she seemed grateful to have lived it and I couldn't help but smile as she shared it with me.

I noticed she would speak short phrases in Russian mid-conversation, without realising, which didn't make it easier for me to understand, but I couldn't bring it in myself to interrupt her to ask what they meant because she said it with such sincerity that I figured it reminded her of her home.

After our conversation, I made her lunch and gave her her medication before watching some TV with her and pretty much talking to her once again. She was quite an interesting woman, different to my usual patients, and I was enjoying our time together. After spending the day there, I wished her a good night before leaving.

When I returned the next morning, I let myself in with the key Anna gave me and called out a good morning.

"In here!" an unfamiliar female voice called out.

I furrowed my brows as I took off my jacket and headed into the living-area. Anna was sat in her recliner as usual, but she had a guest sat on her couch. A young woman, possibly my age, with long dark hair and a friendly smile on her lips was sat comfortably; she had a cup of tea in her hands and her legs pulled up on the couch like she lived there.

The stranger and Anna exchanged words in Russian briefly before the former stood up, about to introduce herself.

"Oh, are you her granddaughter?" I asked, putting two and two together. It was the only explanation I could think of for how comfortable she was and the fact that she was also Sokovian (I assumed, anyway).

The girl laughed, her green eyes sparkling as she shook her head. Putting out her hand, she said, "I'm Wanda Maximoff. Anna's neighbour."

Slightly embarrassed by my mistake, I smiled awkwardly and shook her hand. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have– I just thought because you were speaking Russian that–"

"It's fine, no harm no foul," she put me at ease quickly, before taking her seat again. "I've lived next door to Anna for about a year now. Sometimes I keep her company on my days off."

I set my bag on the floor before taking a seat on the couch, leaving a gap between Wanda and I.

"That's nice," I said with a smile before looking to Anna. "How are you feeling this morning, Mrs Pivec?"

She sighed, waving her hand dismissively, before saying something to Wanda in Russian who was listening intently. Nodding her head, Wanda looked to me with amusement.

"What did she say?" I asked, quirking a brow.

"She said she told you to stop calling her Mrs Pivec yesterday," Wanda translated, trying not to laugh.

"Just call me Anna, Y/N," Anna added with a nod. "And I'm fine. Just had breakfast with Wanda here."

"Breakfast," I repeated slowly. "How long ago was that? Just gotta make sure you get your meds."

"Shoot, am I doing your job?" Wanda asked, slightly panicked.

"No, no, you're not." I laughed at the way she scrunched her nose. "I mean, it would help if I could have breakfast with Miss– Anna, so I know when she has her medication. But it's all good."

"Are you sure? I can leave if I'm in the way," Wanda said with a frown.

"No need," I reassured her. "If Anna doesn't mind your presence, it's all good. I'm just here to look after her, clean up, make sure she eats, has her meds."

Wanda looked to Anna, who seemed unbothered by her presence.

"She can stay," Anna said with a shrug. "Makes it feel less like I'm a pet."

I opened my mouth to say something, possibly make her feel better, but I wasn't sure what to say.

"Don't mind her," Wanda reassured, giving Anna a knowing look before shooting me an easygoing smile. "She tends to speak her mind exactly as it is. No filter whatsoever. And very stubborn. You may have noticed."

I cracked a smile, feeling better knowing that it wasn't just me who noticed Anna's unique personality traits.

"Hey, that stubbornness and lack of filter is exactly how I beat my husband and his friends in every poker game back home," Anna said with a playful smirk.

Wanda and I chuckled, before the brunette leaned on the couch comfortably and looked to me.

"We finished breakfast, maybe, ten minutes ago? I made us eggs and toast," she answered my question from earlier.

I hummed before getting up with my bag and heading to the kitchen. Setting my bag on the counter, I grabbed my diary and also Anna's medication from its place on the kitchen counter.

"I'll give you your medicine now, Anna," I told her, already grabbing a glass of water for her.

"Thank you, milaya," she called back, and I spun around, immediately going to get my Russian-English dictionary from my bag. "Wait, I know what that is!" I flicked through the pages and scanned it eagerly. "Milaya... milaya... milaya! Okay, it means... sweetie."

"Sweetie," Wanda said at the same time, and I looked up to see her watching me from behind her cup of tea, trying not to laugh again.

"I guess another perk of your presence is being the translator," I said sheepishly, realising just how eager I was a second ago. "Anna likes to speak Russian a lot, which I'm fine with of course, but..." I waved the dictionary in the air.

"It's funny watching tvoye lichiko, milaya," Anna said with that same mischievous smirk on her face.

I looked down to my dictionary, struggling to pinpoint a single word in her sentence that I could search. It was overwhelming, the words going in one ear and out the other.

"She said it's funny watching your little face, sweetie," Wanda translated upon seeing my frozen state.

I relaxed my shoulders. "Thanks." Then I realised what she said. "Hey!"

Anna laughed as Wanda grinned, and I was suddenly glad she was here. I grabbed Anna's meds with a glass of water before giving them to her. After making sure she swallowed them properly, I put the glass to the side and took a seat on the couch again.

"So, you said you visited Anna on your days off?" I asked Wanda, intrigued by why a neighbour would be so interested in another. It wasn't very common in today's day and age.

"She's almost always here," Anna answered before Wanda could speak. I looked to her as she continued with a grateful smile. "Helps me with everything. Groceries, cleaning, my medication."

"So basically me but unpaid," I joked, and Anna laughed.

"Exactly," she agreed, and I looked to Wanda to see her blushing, eyes avoiding mine.

"That's really sweet," I said gently, earning her attention. "You're a really good neighbour, Wanda."

Wanda ran a hand through her hair. "It's nothing. If anything, I enjoy being here. Anna reminds me of Sokovia and my family and, well, home."

"Oh, so you're Sokovian, too?"

She nodded before smiling playfully. "Did the accent not give it away?"

I hid a smile. "I didn't want to assume. I mean, you could've been Czech. Slovakian. Basically anything else."

"Okay, I'll give you that," she gave in, tilting her head to the side, smile widening.

It was then that I learnt her smile was extremely contagious.

Same as yesterday, my plan was to stay the day with Anna, though this time Wanda also kept her company (and me, too). After lunch, I left the two of them to watch some TV as I excused myself to change Anna's bedsheets in her room, ready for bed tonight.

As I was doing so, I heard the door open and glanced over my shoulder to see Wanda entering the room. I gave her a smile before continuing to replace the pillowcase.

"Here, I can help," she offered, and didn't give me chance to decline as she grabbed the pillow on the other side of the bed and began to change its case.

"You sure? You know it's my job, right?" I teased, looking up at her over the bed between us.

She rolled her eyes playfully. "I'm aware. Just thought I'd make it a bit easier for you."

I chuckled. "Well, I appreciate it... how is Anna?"

"Dozed off," Wanda quipped with an expectant nod. "Same time every day. Like clockwork."

"Huh." I thought back to yesterday and how she ended up taking a nap after lunch, too. "Noted. Thanks."

Wanda smiled before putting the pillowcase on the pillow and puffing it with her hands. I did the same, content with its appearance, before moving to the duvet. Wordlessly, Wanda grabbed one end and began to help me put it on, which I appreciated. The duvet was bigger than I was and definitely a two-person job.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" I spoke out of the blue as we were putting on the duvet cover.

"Go for it," she said encouragingly, glancing sideways.

"Of course, you don't have to answer, but I thought I'd ask since I'm going to be looking after Anna for a while," I gave a little disclaimer, before saying, "She makes a lot of snide remarks about her granddaughter. Do they not get along?"

Wanda sighed quietly. "Her granddaughter doesn't really visit her here. She rarely calls."

"Her daughter's kid?"

"The only one," Wanda confirmed. "She keeps her distance, ever since her mum – Anna's daughter – passed. She just pays for, well, you."

I frowned. "That's sad."

"Yeah," Wanda agreed, breathing out.

The two of us spread the duvet over the double bed before I looked to her with a small smile.

"At least she has you," I pointed out. "It's nice you give up your free time to spend it with her."

"Like I said, it's good for me, too," she reminded me, returning the smile.

"So what do you do when you're not here keeping her company?" I asked curiously, moving to Anna's bedside to clear it up a little.

Wanda hid her smile behind a look of confusion. "Do you not– don't you recognise me?"

I quirked a brow, pausing my actions. "Am I supposed to?"

She snickered, shaking her head, eyes falling to the bed with mild disbelief. "I mean, I guess not. I'm–" She chuckled, looking to my confused face. "I'm one of the Avengers."

I studied her, her words not quite settling in. But when they did, I realised I actually recognised her and she was one of the Avengers.

"Oh my God!" I blurted, the penny finally dropping. "The one with the weird red energy powers! I mean– not weird but– the magic!"

She stifled laughter, nodding her head. Just like her smile, her laughter was contagious, too.

"Yeah, that's me," she confirmed.

I made a weird motion with my free hand, like I'd seen her do on TV when saving the day. "Does Anna know about your y'know?"

Wanda crossed her arms, raising a brow and watching me with a humoured gaze. "Is that supposed to be my powers?"

I stopped making the motion and felt my neck heating up. "I– yeah."

Laughter spilled from her lips yet again, automatically making me smile. I didn't mind that I'd made a fool of myself all of a sudden.

"Anna knows, yes," Wanda said with a bright smile. "She actually recognised me straight away. Much quicker than you. And she's eighty."

Waving my hand to distract from my flushed cheeks, I said, "Pfft, she probably confused you with someone else and played along when you told her who you were."

"Yeah, I'm sure that was it, ty milyy maneken," she retorted with her piercing gaze.

"No fair, my dictionary is in the other room," I said with a pout, and she only laughed even more.

"Guess you'll never know," she teased with a smirk, making me roll my eyes to distract from the way it made me feel when she stared at me like that.

It was much later on when I learnt that she had called me 'a cute dummy'. And that was the beautiful start to Wanda and I's introduction into each other's lives.

—

From then onwards, about eighty percent of the time I would go to care for Anna, Wanda was present, too and I didn't mind one bit. Not only did she keep Anna company, but she made my job a lot easier whilst keeping me company as well.

I was beginning to look forward to seeing her whenever I would open the door. Whether she was cleaning something up, playing board games with Anna or simply having a tidy up around the apartment, she'd always stop what she was doing and help me with whatever was in my hands as she greeted me at the door. It was adorable. She was adorable.

The few times she wasn't present because of work only made me miss her, the apartment feeling emptier than usual. Even Anna agreed, the two of us making up for the lack of the Sokovian girl's presence by distracting ourselves with other activities.

I was convinced Anna was warming up to me as she freely let me care for her without resistance. Obviously, she wouldn't be Anna if she didn't throw funny remarks my way or speak to me in Russian, knowing I didn't understand her, but it was tolerable. And I was liking her, too; she was easily becoming one of the best patients I cared for. There was just so much personality to her that I couldn't help but smile whenever I spoke to her.

One time, I was helping Anna out at her place when Wanda wasn't present. I was leading her into her bed when I decided now was a better time than ever to ask her about her birthday on Sunday, which I knew was then because of her file.

"So, I'll be seeing you in two days next," I told her as I pulled the duvet over her. "And a little birdie told me it's your birthday then. Eighty-one, Anna! That's amazing!"

She smiled but seemed embarrassed that I knew.

"Tell me what you want and I can make it happen," I said promisingly, smiling down at her.

She waved her hand. "I don't want anything, milaya (sweetie). Your presence is enough."

I chuckled. "As sweet as that is, I know everybody wants something for their birthday. Now please, Anna. What can I do to make the day a bit more special?"

She pondered my question momentarily and I waited for her to speak, hoping it was something doable.

"I would love to have a traditional Sokovian meal," she said reluctantly. "It's been a long time."

I breathed out quietly, patting her hand gently. "I can do that, Anna. Don't you worry."

She smiled genuinely, before shooing me away. "Okay, enough sappiness, ty mozhesh' uyti seychas (you can leave now)."

I laughed, standing up and dusting my pants off. I only knew what that phrase meant because she said it almost every time before my shift ended and I left for the day. I knew she didn't mean it as harshly as it sounded.

"I'm going, I'm going," I said, already heading to the door. "I'll see you Sunday, birthday girl."

She groaned quietly, making me grin, before I double checked everything was okay in the living-area and grabbed my stuff to leave.

As easy of a request that it was, I knew absolutely nothing about cooking a traditional Sokovian meal. But I knew of one person who did and instantly headed to Wanda's apartment next door to see if she was home.

With a quick knock, I waited patiently. I wasn't sure if she was even home since she hadn't visited Anna today and she usually did so if she was. When I was beginning to think she wasn't, I told myself I could Google a recipe and put something together, but then the door opened and revealed a tired-looking Wanda.

"Y/N," she said with surprise, but a friendly smile was on her lips nonetheless.

"Hey, I'm so sorry to disturb you this late, but I wanted to ask– wait, what happened to your face?" I stopped speaking and lost my own smile when I noticed the faint scratches and bruises dusting her skin.

"Oh, it's nothing–" she started, raising her hand, fingers wavering over her head, but I cut her off.

"Shit, Wanda, what happened?" I reached out, taking her hand in mine and studying the cast that was around her wrist. Concerned frown on my lips, I glanced up at her. "Are you okay?"

"It's fine, Y/N," she tried to reassure, but I couldn't help it as my worry got the better of me and I studied the cuts on her cheek. "I just came back from a mission. Minor injuries. Honestly."

I let go of her hand, realising I was still holding it, and nodded slightly. "Right..." Realising she must have been exhausted, I awkwardly stepped back and shook my head with realisation. "Sorry, I should go. I didn't mean to bot–"

"You were saying something," she interrupted, nodding encouragingly. "You wanted to ask me something. What is it?"

I paused, nodding. Admittedly, I was still worried about the bruises on her forehead. I knew she was an Avenger and this was probably the norm for her, but to me, it looked like she'd just got mugged. And the irregularity of that worried me.

"Yeah, I was saying," I finally found my words, trying to ignore the way her tired eyes peered at me hopefully. "It's Anna's birthday on Sunday and she wants to have a traditional Sokovian meal to celebrate. The only problem is, I don't know what that is." Wanda cracked a smile as I continued. "Do you, maybe, have a recipe I could use?"

"Of course," she said before motioning for me to follow her. "Come on in."

I followed after her, closing the door behind me, and stopped at the kitchen counter patiently. As she searched for a notebook in her drawer, I subtly glanced around, taking in the inside of Wanda's apartment. I'd never actually been in it before, but the minimal décor was very her. She didn't have many knickknacks and everything on display served a purpose.

"There's some recipes in here," she said, grabbing my attention. She slid the notebook across the counter and leaned forward with a smile. "Take your pick."

I flicked through it briefly, smiling at the notebook filled with recipes, all in Wanda's neat, cursive handwriting.

"Thank you," I said gratefully, looking up and catching her staring.

She perked up, clearing her throat as she nodded in response before looking the other way. Cute.

"Are you working on Sunday?" I asked with a raised brow, before rolling my eyes playfully. "What am I saying? Of course you're not. Not with that wrist."

She chuckled, still avoiding my eyes. "I'm not."

"Well, why don't you come over for her birthday? You can help me cook her a meal. Or rather, I can help you cook it since I'll probably screw it up."

Finally meeting my eyes, she smiled with amusement. "Are you sure?"

I gave her a knowing look, ignoring the butterflies swirling in my stomach as she held my gaze with her intense dark eyes. "Yes, I'm sure. Anna will love to celebrate with you. And..." I pursed my lips, taking a leap of faith and adding, "and I'd love it, too."

Wanda let out a quiet laugh. "You would, would you?"

I straightened up, smile widening. "Yeah, I would."

She tilted her head, studying me with a curious smile. "Well then, I clearly can't say no."

Something stirred in my chest the longer she watched me and I oddly liked it. It was obvious that Wanda was a beautiful girl with a heart of gold, but I guess I hadn't really acknowledged that I may have had feelings for her until now. And I didn't mind one bit.

"Great," I finally found my words, nodding slightly. "I'll see you Sunday."

She mirrored my expression, saying, "See you Sunday," and I knew I couldn't wait until then.

[paopuofhearts]

Okay I rarely interact or reblog from this fandom but here's a key thing:

There is a lack of critical thinking here because the person who posted this is a young teenager barely out of their preteens. As someone who teaches teenagers, it is normal at that age to not having fully developed critical thinking skills. That's what brain development is!

But also, for young people, an age gap is a big deal - and it should be! Because if you are exploring relationships at that point with an age gap, that's a problem.

People who are young teenagers likely do not have any real world experience because they are not adults. And this is a fandom where a good chunk of the fans are young people that aren't adults! In consideration of the point about not knowing how to grasp adulthood? No, most teens cannot, because they lack context for that. I'm in my 30s and have routinely had students that believe I am anywhere from 25 to 45 years old, because they do not consistently interact with adults. And there's a lot to be said about a lack of generational community, because yeah, only having access to other views via online interaction really fucking skews your perspective and not having access to others views in real life is not okay.

But that isn't the fault of a young teen, and we really should stop implementing responses that birder on harassment with heavily judgmental and negatively connotstive vocabulary and phrasing - which is all I've seen from the few people I follow talking about this post.

BECAUSE.

Actual adults sitting here and bitching at a young teen lacking experience is alienating at best and really fucking demeaning at worst. This kind of response is not at all conducive to actually helping teens learn what being an adult is like - it just makes teens feel shitty for "being wrong". That is way too many levels of Not Okay, and as an adult, you should know better than to think shaming people with facts actually helps people realize that they're ignorant of something. Especially since plenty of very immature adults do that sort of targeted work online for less than ideal reasons (like churning and convincing people of propaganda). Do better, because you have the capacity and capability of doing better, far moreso than the young teens here.

Like, you honestly think telling a young teenager, who is rightfully wary of age gaps due to their own age, that they're terrible people because they have no grasp of adulthood, which they've never experienced to begin with, is at all going to make them realize "ah yes you're right!"? No. It's going to feel degrading, and you know the kind of people that jump on that? The people who are churning out the purity culture bullshit to push their own propaganda, by pointing out how vicious this kind of response is, because clearly if it was okay it would feel okay and the response would be kind and compassionate, because kind and compassionate is equated with Being Right.

ON THE OTHER HAND.

If you are a young teen, you gotta realize that what your life is like now is not what the adult world is like. If things make you uncomfortable, self reflect to figure out why - but dont automstically jump into negatives directed at people, because most of the time, unless it's blatantly obvious that what they're doing is wrong, it's a sheer difference of opinion that hurts literally no one. And you need to start learning to curate your life experiences to where you can go "mm not for me, I'll go find something else" instead of developing habits that shit on other people and try to control another persons ideas or behaviors.

As an individual you have no right to demand public spaces and public forums adhere to your opinions and ideas. At best, thats manipulative propaganda - at worst, that's censorship that actively leads to misunderstandings that actively harm other people. If you don't like something, but it's not harming others, you need to learn to walk away from it. (Also potentially learn what harming others actually means, because the online world has greatly muddled that concept - due to things like blurring the differences between an age gap between an adult and a teen, which is pedophilia, and an age gap between two consenting adults, which is not).

TO FINISH.

If this were an adult, yeah, that's someone pushing purity culture bullshit propaganda. And these responses might be well deserved, considering how propaganda gets taken down and how you interact with it so that it loses power. Because there are very specific ways to treat propaganda like that.

But as this is not an adult, nor was it purity culture propaganda. The post was literally someone trying to work through their feelings, which is why it wasn't tagged with the ship despite mentioning the ship. I see all these "hot takes" and it's shameful, because this is the kind of thing that makes fandom a toxic place to be in.

BOO

[divinerulerluvr]

Lovers Rock

Where Warren Lipka decides to end your fight with the only way he knew how.

Pairing - Warren Lipka x fem!reader

Words - 2.0k

Warnings - smut, angst, slapping kink, idk it's just very dirty

A/N - I decided to do an angry sex fic today and figured I'll do a Stoned Kit Walker smut sometime over the weekend. So enjoy this filthy smut piece because had fun writing it :)

Inspired by Lovers Rock by TV Girl

- - -

It was around one in the morning on a Wednesday when you were hunched over your desk in your dorm room studying for your test.

A loud knock sounds through your room, causing you to jump. Standing from your chair, you open the door to your dorm room. Warren Lipka stands in your doorway, his lips pulled into a weak smile.

You sigh, looking off to the side as you prepare yourself for the future moments. “Can I come in? Please?” he asks, his voice softer than usual due to the fact you were in a community dorm hall.

Nodding, you let him into your room and close the door behind him. He sits on your bed, looking up to you with his beautiful, puppy dog eyes. You could tell he was tipsy. It had become a sixth sense to you. Detecting when he was drunk or high.

“What did you do this time?” you ask right away, your room still dark and the only light being from your desk lamp. Warren’s head falls and he stays silent. “I didn’t do nothing bad. I just… wanted to see you again. I needed some-some courage, you know?” he says, looking up to meet your gaze.

You cross your arms, feeling bad for having been so hard on him when you last saw him. “You gotta go, Warren. I have to study and I don’t have time for your shit today,”

Warren had been a completely different person lately. He gets drunk way too much, is stoned every hour of the day, rebellious, and plain old stupid.

“Baby, please,” he says, standing from your bed. “I was drunk and didn’t know what I was doing and--”

“That isn’t an excuse for cheating,”

He sighs, running his hand through his hair. “I dropped out of that scholarship,” he says, his voice flat and void of emotion. Your head snaps up, his words setting off an alarm in you. “Dropped out?” you repeat.

Nodding, you groan. “Fucking Warren,” you mumble. “Why did you do that? You’re fucking nineteen. You gotta find something to do with your life. Weed and alcohol won't always be there for you,”

“It was stupid. It’s not my fault I don’t wanna be at college on a fucking sports scholarship,” he rebuttals quickly, his voice rising to match your tone.

“You’re fucking stupid,” you insult. He glares at you briefly before closing his eyes. “I don’t want to contribute to corporate America, Y/n. I’m not a sucker like you. I’m not wasting four years of my life in school. High school was hell enough,”

“A sucker like me?” you echo, your eyebrows raised in question. Warren catches what he was saying and presses his lips together. His silence was patronizing. “Elaborate, please. You always talk about ‘contributing to corporate America’ and yet you’re the biggest contributor I know,”

“How’s that?” he asks, his head tilted in offense.

“You just are. Stop complaining and practice what you preach,” you huff, your voice raising even more as you get heated.

You stare at each other for a moment, the silence slowly cutting away at the words you both just said. “Get out, Warren. I was clear about what I wanted yesterday and I still feel that way,” you say in a quiet voice, your eyes failing to meet his.

He sighs, biting his lower lip. “Y/n, come on,” he tries.

“Get… out,”

Begrudgingly, he walks away from you and towards the door. You sit down on the edge of your bed, your head falling as you rub your dry eyes. Not hearing the door open or close, you instead hear Warren inhale sharply.

“I’m not fucking leaving,” he digs his heels in. Your eyes snap up to look at him, a look of both confusion and anger on your face. “What?” you ask incredulously.

“I’m not leaving because you clearly don’t want me to,”

“So the phrase ‘get out’ now means to be an ass and act like you know me?”

He stares at you for a second, his eyes locked relentlessly on yours. “You don’t want me to leave,” he insists. You roll your eyes, looking away from him. The next thing you know, he has his hand wrapped around your throat as he stares down at you.

“I hate you,” you seethe as he squeezes the sides of your neck. He smirks, chuckling softly. “I hate you more,” he plays along. Using his leverage on your throat, he pushes you back onto your bed.

You gasp, watching him tear off his shirt and undo his belt buckle. You pull your own clothes off as well, stripping until you were in just a bra and panties.

He wore just his boxers as he got on the bed and leaned over you, his lips sloppily meeting yours. You could taste the beer on his lips but you didn’t mind much. The kiss was hot and aggressive which only turned you both on even more.

Your hands go down to his waist but he quickly grabs your wrists, pinning them above you on the bed. His grip hurt but it felt nice. It had been a few days which was a long time in Warren’s world so he was especially riled up.

Using his free hand, he pulls off your underwear in one swift motion. You stay silent, not wanting to boost his ego by moaning, whimpering, or begging. He doesn’t do what he normally would do like tease you with soft touches or kisses and instead jumps straight to fucking you.

Your eyes screw shut as he pushes his dick into your pussy. It hurt since he wasn’t even trying to be nice. But you liked it. Hell, you enjoyed it. The way he was just using you recklessly.

Holding back from making noise, Warren starts snapping his hips back and forth, creating a brutal yet pleasurable pace. Your eyes flutter open as he groans softly, seeing the angelic look on his face that made you not want to hate him.

The way his brows furrowed and how he bit on his lower lip. The lust in his dark eyes and how his hair fell over his face.

Your hands squeeze into fists, his hand still binding your wrists together in a vice-like grip that would definitely leave a mark. A soft moan escaped your lips and you feel a sharp sting on your cheek where he had slapped you.

His hand grips at your jaw, forcing you to look him in the eyes as he fuck you mercilessly. You feel embarrassment flood your body as his eyes meet yours. “Shut up,” he orders darkly. You pathetically nod, biting your tongue.

It was difficult to keep quiet and Warren knew this. That was the whole point. He felt so good inside of you that you were destined to moan at least once.

And that’d just warrant another slap.

The bed creaks with each thrust he makes, the noise an obvious signifier to other kids in the dorm hall of what was going on. Warren liked the noise your bed made. Because he knew that in turn, you were embarrassed by how loud the creaking could get.

Your body shudders, each nerve ending electrified as you relax in an attempt to keep quiet. Warren made noises just to brag about being able to make noise. Soft groans and grunts and whispers of curse words.

“You hate me, huh?” he taunts, his lips grazing your cheek as he leans over you. “Why are you dripping then?”

Your eyes flutter shut, a heavy exhale through your nose being the only sound you could make. He appreciates your reaction, fucking you as hard as he could. Which, to be fair, was pretty hard.

“It’s because you love being used, isn’t that right?” he continues taunting, speaking in rhetorical questions to further agonize her inability to respond.

You were unreasonably wet for him. Being used like this turned you on more than it should. Anything Warren did was hot. Anything he said, anything he suggested. You were willing to do anything if he wanted to. Not because you’re a sucker, but because he’s so good at it.

The hand on your jaw trails down your body, his hot and possessive touch making your skin break out in goosebumps.

He presses a kiss to your jaw, his lips dragging across your warm skin until he reaches your ear. “My sweet, good Y/n,” he whispers teasingly. You let out a weak moan, only earning another sharp slap to your cheek, the opposite cheek from before.

Silencing yourself, you feel your orgasm coming with each thrust Warren made. He could tell, too. By how you began to thrash underneath him. He pulls your bra down, revealing your chest to him.

His lips meet your nipples, the sensation making it even more difficult to stay quiet. Your walls clench around his dick, your orgasm coming quicker than you expected.

“Do you think you deserve to cum?” he antagonizes.

You nod weakly, your breathing heavy as his thumb replaces his mouth on your nipple. “But I thought you hated me? If somebody hates somebody else, they usually don’t want to cum from them,” he counters.

Your skin had become sticky with sweat, Warren’s chest pressed against your only creating a furnace between you two. “I-I don’t hate you,” you try.

His thrusts slow down, edging you off the edge of an orgasm. You groan, looking at Warren who wore a snobby smile. “I said no speaking,” he whispers, his lips grazing yours. You rock your hips slightly, trying to take advantage of how he was still inside of you.

Removing his hand from around your wrists, he snakes his hand under your back and flips you around so he’s laying on the bed and you’re saddling his waist. “Work for it and you can make all the noise you want, pup,”

With a quiet whimper, you start moving your hips back and forth instead of up and down due to how tired you were. “No, no, no. Do it like you mean it,” he corrects by grabbing your hips and guiding your up and down movements.

A cool burn spreads through your thighs as you ride him. Warren removes your bra completely as your head falls back and breathy moans leave your lips.

He watches you ride him with a proud smile, his hands roaming your body freely as you indulge in your own pleasure. You bring yourself to the edge, a wave of pleasure consuming your body as you orgasm.

A moan of relief falls from your lips as you collapse on his chest, your legs feeling like rubber underneath you. You felt bad about not letting him finish so with the little bit of energy you had left, you trailed your lips down his body until you reach his dick.

His head falls back as you start giving him a blow job. His fingers thread through our hair as you bob your head up and down on his dick.

It didn’t take long for him to cum in your mouth. A sharp exhale leaves his lips as he places his finger under your jaw and pulls you from his legs so you’re back on top of him. He pulls your chin down, opening your mouth to see his cum pooling on your tongue.

With a smile of satisfaction, he pushes your mouth closed. “Swallow,”

You obey his order, swallowing his slightly salty cum. He runs his thumb over your lips, pulling your mouth back open to make sure all of his cum was swallowed. When he saw it was, he pulled you off him and into his side.

Resting your head on his shoulder, your hand traces his defined abs. “My parents got a divorce,” he says randomly. You look at him, your brows furrowed in question.

“You wanna stay with me for a bit?” you offer.

“Nah. Spencer and I have some plans we’ve been going over. We’re about to come into a lot of money,” he smirks at you.

You smile thinking it was something good.

It wasn't.