#Whether anyone else uses that phrase or I just more so made it up I’m not sure | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kikyoupdates · 1 month ago

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For Tomorrow's Sake ⭑˚💫⭑ 𝑢𝑛𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑜𝑟

various!jjk x f!reader

reverse harem, isekai, jujutsu kaisen x fem!reader, slowburn

You never believed reincarnation was possible, least of all in the fictional world of Jujutsu Kaisen. However, from the moment you meet Gojo Satoru, it’s impossible to deny. Whether it’s a miracle or some kind of curse, you find yourself growing up alongside the strongest jujutsu sorcerer. Unfortunately, you know what the future holds in store. You know exactly what kind of tragedies await. Perhaps that’s why you were brought into this world. If it means saving people from a gruesome fate, you’ll gladly suffer in their place. You’ll do whatever it takes.All for the sake of a better tomorrow.

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Satoru can’t believe what he’s hearing. Out of nowhere, you’ve got a Binding Vow? And not just any kind of vow, but one where your life literally hangs in the balance?

For obvious reasons, he doesn’t take the news well.

“What’s wrong with you?!” he exclaims. “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard! Why would you ever risk your life like that in exchange for more power? I already promised to protect you! It doesn’t make any sense!”

“But it’s worth it,” you simply reply. “I wasn’t strong to begin with. I probably would only have been able to exorcize weak curses anyway. Most people are strong enough to do that as well. This way, if someone ever happens to get hurt, I can at least do something to help. I won’t be useless anymore. I thought long and hard about this, and I realized it was the best option.”

“The best option…?” Satoru blinks in disbelief. “How could this ever be the best option? You said that if you hurt anyone, you’ll die instantly!”

“Only if I hurt them with my cursed energy.” You square your hands upon your hips and proudly puff out your chest. “Binding Vows have loopholes that you can exploit. You just have to be careful with the phrasing. I’m not allowed to hurt anyone with my own cursed energy, but I never said I couldn’t hurt people with cursed tools, for example. And even talismans. I plan on training so that I can use weapons properly. See? Isn’t it the perfect plan?”

He supposes that’s true. You did specify that you would only die if your own cursed energy happened to harm someone else. Technically speaking, there’s no rule that you can’t fight through other means.

Even so, he’s terrified. Because this could easily go very, very wrong.

“In your Binding Vow, you said that if you were ever to hurt someone else with your cursed energy, you would die, instantly,” Satoru weakly grits out.

“That’s right,” you nod.

“And you say you don’t plan on using your cursed energy at all, but you plan to fight with weapons instead. The only time you’ll use cursed energy is to convert it into positive energy meant for healing. Which obviously doesn’t inflict harm on anyone, so you’re safe.”

“Yep!”

Satoru’s expression darkens.

“So, then… what’s considered harming someone? What kind of injury do you need to inflict on someone in order for you to have broken your vow? Does it have to be intentional? What if you’re just trying to defend against an attack, by strengthening your body with cursed energy, and the moment an enemy makes contact with you, you die? Inflicting ‘harm’ on someone might just be using some kind of cursed technique against an enemy, if you ever develop one of your own. Or even just restricting their movements with cursed energy. Anything can be considered harm. The target doesn’t necessarily need to be bleeding or injured. If your Binding Vow is as serious as I think it is… if you let your guard down for a single moment during a fight, your life could end. In the blink of an eye.”

This vow you made is absolutely insane. He could very well be overthinking things, but regardless of how slim the odds are, if you slip up, even for a fraction of a second, there’s a good chance you’ll die.

The thought of losing you makes him sick to his stomach.

“I get what you’re saying, and I agree,” you nod. “I don’t know what exactly could be considered ‘harm’, according to my vow, which is why I’ve decided I’m better off not using cursed energy at all. Or, the bare minimum, at least. I’ll only use it to defend the most important parts of my body, like my heart or brain. Otherwise, I won’t risk it. I’ll take whatever damage is dealt and just heal myself back to normal afterwards. I’m going to train to suppress my cursed energy as much as possible, and only use it for healing.”

Satoru buries his face in the palms of his hands. “Ugh. I don’t feel so good. Seriously, what’s wrong with you, [Name]? You’re insane. I just… I don’t understand why you would do this. I’m the strongest. I’m always going to be by your side. So, why?”

“Because I want to protect everyone. Including you.”

Satoru flinches a bit, and he slowly pries his hands off his face, freeing up his eyes so that he can look at you again. As always, you’re smiling. Despite the horrifying vow you’ve just made, somehow, you’re smiling brighter than ever.

“I’m the last person that would need to be protected,” Satoru frowns. “You should already know that. I’ll be the one to protect you, not the other way around.”

“I know. It’s incredibly unlikely that you’ll ever need my help. But on the off-chance that it ever happens… at least I’ll be ready.”

It doesn’t make any sense. Satoru adores you, but he’ll never understand what goes on in that head of yours. There’s no reason for you to go to such lengths. There’s no reason for you to risk your wellbeing for anyone else. The knowledge that you’re going to be perpetually in danger from now on fills him with dread, but ultimately, it doesn’t change what he set out to do.

He will protect you, no matter what.

And even though he obviously doesn’t know it yet, you will do the same for him.

“You may be smart when it comes to school, but I guess I was right all along about you being dumb,” Satoru huffs childishly. “Only super dumb dumbos would make a dumb vow like that. [Name], you doofus. Now I’m going to have to clean up your mess.”

“I didn’t make a mess. Oh—unless you’re referring to how I accidentally stained my kimono with blood. Do you think the clan members will get mad at me?”

Satoru lets out a heavy sigh as he shakes his head. Sure enough, you’re dumb. But it’s okay. It doesn’t change how he feels.

He will cherish you for the rest of his life.

“A Binding Vow?”

“Supposedly. It sounds hard to believe, but she’s awakened the ability to convert cursed energy into positive energy.”

“What kind of vow would permit such a thing?”

“Well, if I’m to believe what I’ve heard, she apparently staked her life on it. She will die the moment she uses her cursed energy in order to inflict harm onto someone else. Master Satoru has been in a terrible mood ever since he found out.”

Yet again, you’ve become the talk around town. Or rather, the talk around the estate, you suppose. The details don’t really matter. Point is, you find yourself as the center of attention once more, but it seems as though things are finally changing for the better.

When everyone discovered how smart you are, they started thinking a bit more highly of you. Still, even then, you were still held mostly in contempt, because you’re a weakling. You’re permitted to stay by Satoru’s side, but only because he demands it. If not for his orders, they would have kicked you out ages ago. Actually, they would never have let you come live here in the first place.

However, now, your value has just increased exponentially. Being academically gifted doesn’t mean much for a jujutsu sorcerer. It’s certainly better than being an idiot, but ultimately, it doesn’t make you any less weak.

You may still be weak in a lot of different ways, but for the first time in your life, you have a rare, valuable ability, coveted by all.

Reverse cursed technique.

Not many are capable of such a feat. Even among the current Gojo Clan members, there’s nobody that can heal injuries. Healers aren’t commonplace in the world of Jujutsu Kaisen, and their rarity makes them that much more valuable. If everyone had the ability to heal, exorcizing powerful cursed spirits would be significantly easier. It would also increase the survival rate of jujutsu sorcerers as a whole.

Up until now, everyone apart from Satoru has treated you like dirt. Everyone has scorned you, tossed you aside, or ridiculed you for your weakness. But it seems as though finally, the tables are turning.

Finally, you have some actual worth.

People look at you differently now. You’re no longer an afterthought, or a throwaway. Of course, you’ll never be able to compare to Gojo Satoru, but still. You have a purpose now, and everyone is forced to acknowledge it.

“I’m not sure how you came up with such a Binding Vow, or how it even worked, but at least you’ll be able to make yourself useful now,” one of the clan members remarks.

Satoru wraps his arms around you as he glares up at them. “[Name] was just fine before. She didn’t have to do any of this. She doesn’t need to be useful. She’s my friend. That’s already more than enough.”

“Yes, of course,” they reply insincerely. “What I meant is that it’s good for her. She always said she wanted to help people. Using reverse cursed technique is one of the surest ways to do that. She wouldn’t have had much fighting prowess in the first place, so this is a fitting alternative. Isn’t that right, [Name]? You want to prove yourself as a jujutsu sorcerer too, don’t you?”

Their tone is still somewhat condescending, but you don’t really care. It’s a step up, in any case. Besides, you’ll show them. You’ll prove them all wrong.

When all those tragedies are set to occur… you will be the one to change fate.

“I want to get stronger,” you nod. “I’ve already decided what I want to do. I need to train with cursed tools, so that I can at least hold my own against curses. If I’m too weak, I’ll just die instantly—even without the conditions of my Binding Vow. And then I won’t be able to save anyone. So, I need to at least be strong enough to keep myself alive. It’s the bare minimum.”

“We can help train you, but you will be relying exclusively on cursed tools, without the use of your own cursed energy. We are all sorcerers, first and foremost. Nobody here depends wholeheartedly on cursed tools. It’d be an embarrassment.”

They’re basically saying that there’s no one here who would be as strong with weapons as, say, Maki, because she can only use cursed tools. She has no cursed energy of her own to draw from. The Gojo Clan has many elite sorcerers, who’ve mostly devoted themselves to raising and training Satoru, but none of them are weapon specialists. You suppose it’s a pride thing. Relying on cursed tools is mostly for novices who still haven’t learned to control their own cursed energy.

Well, whatever. You’ll just have to make do with what you have.

“I need to get used to cursed tools, and I also need to learn to suppress my cursed energy,” you say.

The clan member arches a brow. “Why? Your cursed energy is scarce enough as it is.”

“Um, so that I don’t die. Just to be extra safe. The conditions of my vow are that I’m not allowed to hurt anyone with my cursed energy, and I’m not sure exactly what falls into that category. I think it’d be better to avoid releasing cursed energy. As much as possible.”

“Hm. Sorcerers don’t leak as much cursed energy as non-sorcerers do. You’re worried that by some chance, you’ll accidentally hurt someone, as weak as you are? I don’t think it’s likely. Not to mention that you seem terrible at controlling your cursed energy in the first place, but… fine. You may as well try. If your goal is simply to suppress your cursed energy, rather than manipulate it and use a technique, it should be feasible. Even for you.”

“Train her properly,” Satoru insists, squeezing you close. “I don’t care how unlikely it is that she’ll hurt someone by mistake. It could even be a 0.0001 percent chance. You have to train her to make sure it doesn’t happen. If you don’t do a good job… I swear you’ll regret it.”

He’s not even seven years old yet, but something about the way his pale blue eyes widen, coupled with the darkness that flickers through them, is enough to make the clan member unintentionally step back.

“O-Of course,” they hastily nod. “I’ll train her thoroughly. Everyone will offer up their help. She can learn from whoever she thinks is best, whenever she wants.”

Satoru smiles, seemingly pleased. You never thought that elite sorcerers would bother investing their time in you, of all people, but life is funny that way.

Your training begins. Not so much with cursed tools, because none of the clan members are especially proficient with them, but every day, you make strides towards learning how to suppress your cursed energy. Suppression is a form of control, and since you have minimal talent, it goes without saying that it isn’t easy for you.

Even so, you make an effort. You decided a long time ago that you will never, ever give up.

All for the sake of a better tomorrow.

“How’s it going?” Satoru asks, plopping down next to you. You’ve just finished your training for the day, and so has he.

“I think… a bit better,” you mumble hesitantly. “I’m not very good at controlling my cursed energy, but suppressing it seems to be working more than when I was trying to use it myself to crush cans and stuff. It’s going to take time, though. Until I actually get the hang of it. But I already knew it would be a long process, so it’s okay.”

“Hm. I see. Well, don’t give up. This is about making sure you stay safe, after all.” Satoru shifts closer, then glances down at the plate beside you. “Oh, you’re eating dango? Awesome. Who’d you get to make this for you?”

He reaches over to pick up one of the dango skewers, and without thinking twice, he happily pops it into his mouth.

Only to spit it out while screaming bloody murder.

“Ew!” Satoru exclaims. He splutters onto the ground, frantically wiping at his tongue. There are small tears forming in his eyes. “This is so… what even… what the hell is this?”

“Dango covered in oyster sauce and tabasco,” you calmly reply, and you even pick up a skewer of your own and munch on it with a bright expression. “Pretty good, right? I made it myself.”

“Something’s seriously wrong with you,” Satoru groans. He clamps a hand over his mouth, face turning green. “Ugh. I’m gonna throw up…”

“Satoru, I’m starting to think that you might be a picky eater.”

“I’m not! You just eat all kinds of disgusting things!”

You shrug, clearly unconvinced. You may very well have some misshapen taste buds or something. Not that you really care.

“...oh. Is that bird okay?”

You set your dango down and point off into the distance. There’s a bird lying on the ground, and you didn’t notice it at first, but it’s not walking around or even moving much. One of its wings occasionally twitches as it lies on its side.

“I think it’s hurt,” Satoru replies. “Maybe it crashed into something while it was flying and fell down.”

That’s all you need to hear. You rush over towards the bird in a hurry, with Satoru following closely behind you. It is hurt, the poor thing. It must be feeling incredibly overwhelmed and afraid.

“It’s going to be alright,” you mumble, gently cradling the bird in your hands. It starts twitching even more, clearly distressed by what it perceives to be a sudden threat, but soon, its discomfort fades away.

You furrow your brows, focusing hard, as you heal the bird’s wing back to normal. The bird doesn’t react at first. It looks surprised, somewhat. Surprised by the fact that the pain disappeared.

It finally realizes that everything’s okay, and without wasting another second, it takes off, flying high into the skies above.

“I did it,” you say, slightly breathless. Not because of exhaustion, but sheer awe. “I… finally helped. I know it's not a person, but it’s still a living being. I can really help people. I can take away their pain.”

“Not even I know how to use reverse cursed technique,” Satoru nods. He leans closer to you and rests his head against your shoulder. “To be honest, I’m still upset about your Binding Vow. It’s risky, and it scares me. I wish you’d never made it in the first place. But… I guess this suits you. Healing others. It’s kind, like you. It just makes sense.”

You’re not quite sure how to respond, so you just lean your head against his own, unable to contain your smile.

“Satoru, look! Watch me catch all these snowflakes in my mouth.”

You tilt your head backwards, up towards the sky, as you proceed to stick out your tongue in a rather unflattering fashion. Even though you can’t see yourself right now, you figure that you probably look pretty ridiculous, but you don’t care. To be honest, it’s nice being a kid again. It’s nice acting all innocent and carefree—for as long as you can.

Satoru frowns. “What’s the point of doing that?”

“I’unno. Ish jus fun.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth hanging open like that. You’re making a really funny face. If anyone else was here, I bet they’d be laughing at you.”

You close your mouth, relishing the feeling of more cold snowflakes melting against your tongue. “If it’s funny, you can laugh. I don’t mind.”

“I’m not going to laugh because I don’t want you to feel embarrassed.”

“Really? But you make fun of me all the time.”

“True. I guess I’m making an effort to hold back right now.” Satoru pauses for a few moments, only for a crooked grin to spread out across his lips. “Anyways, since I didn’t laugh at you, that means you’re not allowed to laugh at me, either.”

Just like you did earlier, he angles his head towards the sky and opens his mouth, allowing countless snowflakes to fall onto his tongue. You watch, with a bright smile, as he bristles at the novel sensation, and within seconds, he’s laughing uncontrollably.

“Whoa! This feels weird,” he laughs, and even though it’s not the first time you’ve heard the sound of his laughter, it makes you happier than you can put into words.

“Satoru, you told me not to laugh, but you’re the one who can’t seem to stop,” you muse.

“I just didn’t know what to expect. Look! I’m watching way more snowflakes than you did. It figures I’d be better, though. I’m always the best.”

He wipes a hand across his mouth and grins proudly. He sure likes to brag. Well, not that you didn’t already know that, but still.

“You’re not always the best,” you feel compelled to point out. “I’m still smarter than you. Well, when it comes to academic stuff, at least. You still like to call me dumb, for whatever reason.”

“Because you have no common sense.”

“Yes, I do.”

“What kind of person in their right mind dips grilled squid into peanut butter?”

“Someone ahead of their time, obviously. It’s called being avant-garde, Satoru. But I bet you’ve never even heard of that term before. That’s why I’m the smarter one.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say.”

Satoru laughs again as he pulls you into his arms and hugs you with all the might his little body has to offer. Without the use of cursed energy, of course. Otherwise he would’ve flattened you in no time.

It’s a nice, snowy day. You’ve always liked winter. It can get cold and uncomfortable, to be fair, but you just like the aesthetic of it. It’s so pretty seeing everything covered in snow, a shade of white so pale that it’s practically translucent. You like the way rays of sun dance across its surface, and sometimes, you swear it sparkles.

As far as you’re concerned, today is a normal day. Well, as normal as any day possibly can be, when you’re living with Gojo Satoru. These kinds of silly, mundane moments have become commonplace. You don’t even question any of it anymore. On paper, it sounds absurd that you’re catching snowflakes on your tongue next to the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, and yet, this is reality.

“Come on,” Satoru says. He finally breaks away from the hug, but only to offer you his small, seemingly fragile hand.

Naturally, you accept it without a second thought.

You walk with him, hand-in-hand, on the way back to the Gojo estate. However, what you fail to realize is that today isn’t a normal day. Something is set to occur, and with it, your life is about to get even more interesting.

All of a sudden, Satoru is turning his head to look backwards. You don’t realize what caught his attention. Maybe a stray cat, or something? That’d be surprising. It’s pretty cold, so most animals are definitely in hiding right now.

What you find, however, is most certainly not a stray cat.

Fushiguro Toji is standing behind you.

He looks surprised that you and Satoru have even taken note of him. Of course he is. After all, according to him, this was the only instance in his life when someone took note of him, without him purposefully revealing his presence. So, today must be the day he stopped by to get a look at Satoru for himself. And you’re here to witness it in the flesh.

“That guy’s clearly spying on us,” Satoru says, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t know who he is, but I hope he’s not stupid enough to try anything.”

You don’t respond. Actually, at this point in time, Toji must still be part of the Zen’in Clan. He hasn’t taken his wife’s last name yet. Not that it really matters. His sudden appearance has sparked something inside of you, and all of a sudden, ideas fill your mind.

Toji. A force to be reckoned with, despite not possessing a single drop of cursed energy. He’s unbelievably powerful. The only reason he died in canon is because he went up against none other than Gojo Satoru, and even then, it was awfully close. If he’d lived, there would be no shortage of powerful foes he could defeat.

Due to his resentment for the world of jujutsu, he will eventually leave the Zen’in Clan and become an assassin. The so-called Sorcerer Killer.

And one day, he will become the reason for two characters’ demise. Amanai Riko and Geto Suguru, respectively.

Toji is Riko’s killer. Not only will he assassinate her, but in doing so, he will set Suguru on a path of resentment. Suguru’s hatred for non-sorcerers was triggered by Riko’s death, and further perpetuated by other tragedies, such as the death of Haibara Yu.

But what if none of that were to happen?

What if… there’s a way to stop Toji from becoming a murderer?

“[Name]?” Satoru blinks, but before he can even process what’s happening, you’ve already let go of his hand and started running towards Toji. “Hey, wait! Stop it! What are you doing?”

It may very well be hopeless. You know that. You intend to save as many people as possible, but you also shouldn’t bite off more than you can chew. Toji isn’t the type of person who would readily change. Not only that, but he’s dangerous. He could probably flick you with his finger and you’d split in half.

Nevertheless, you’re going to give it a shot.

“I said, stop!” Satoru cries out. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you back, but you’ve already gotten quite close to Toji, who’s staring down at you with a look of mild bewilderment.

Satoru looks ready to pick a fight, going so far as to bare his teeth as he meets Toji’s dark, piercing gaze. He keeps his arms wrapped around you, protectively, ready to strike at any given moment. It’s a good thing he’s here, because it makes you feel a lot safer. Especially with what you’re about to do.

“Mister,” you begin, peering up at Toji with big, innocent eyes. “You don’t have any cursed energy. Not even a little. But… you seem strong. Really strong.”

Toji blinks. He’s not the kind of person who’s easily caught off guard, and yet, he has to admit that he wasn’t expecting something like this.

It’s faint, but you notice a smile pulling at his lips.

“Really?” he muses. “You’re right. I don’t have any cursed energy. So, why do you think I’m strong? I’ve only ever been told the exact opposite, all my life.”

“Um, I don’t know. I don’t really know how to explain it, to be honest. I just feel like… I can tell. I can tell you’re super-duper strong.”

“[Name], stop it,” Satoru urges. He keeps tugging on you, and he refuses to take his eyes off Toji, even for a moment. “Let’s just go. I don’t know what this old fart’s deal is, but he needs to mind his own business.”

You’re about to make a gamble, and the odds are most certainly not in your favor.

Still, you’ve already decided that no matter the situation, no matter how seemingly insurmountable the obstacles are, you have to at least try.

And so, you shall.

“You look strong,” you repeat, facing Toji with a bright, determined gaze. “I’m not strong. I’ve been weak all my life. So, I want to change that. I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”

It probably won’t make much of a difference, but even so, you smile.

“...will you help me become strong, like you?”

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olderthannetfic · 9 months ago

Note

I hate to revive DNI discourse when it just ended on this blog but I often don’t think it’s as deep as people make it out to be and there’s a lot of, for lack of a better word, ~valid~ reasons someone may have a DNI. Like there’s absolutely contexts of “Kink Blogs DNI” disclaimers having an anti, swerf, etc undertone but sometimes I get it — for example I follow a couple of disability activists who post A LOT about incontinence, needing a caregiver, ETC who have stuff like “ABDL/DDLG/Devotee Blogs DNI.” Oftentimes that is not an indicator on their moral stance of those kinks, but rather them just being like “hey this is an activism-based journal where I post about incredibly personal things in regards to my own life, and while anyone has the right to read or reblog from me, if you’re clearly getting off to my medical needs or even if I get the vague impression you are, you WILL be blocked.”

Obviously that is an incredibly extreme and personal example, but I don’t think having a DNI boundary in your bio is ALWAYS a morality/discourse stance. On a much lighter note, I’m pretty active on Kpop Twitter, and there’s a lot of “RPF DNI” accounts there, and I think that’s more of a “I just want to post about my favorite band without shippers quote retweeting/replying to make it about their ship, and if you do so, I’ll block you. They’ve made public statements against these ships or about their real relationships and I am uncomfortable with people trying to dispute that.”

Oh yes there’s absolutely antis who hate RPF communities and all they stand for. But there’s also people who just straight up don’t want that on their account.

And like. As someone casually involved with RPF (i gossip about potential relationships with close friends and will reblog joke posts about it and will read it, but I’m not a writer for it and I’m definitely not someone who actually tries to speculate just how heavy the “fiction” part of an RPF ship might be), whether or not I choose to follow a person with such DNI depends on context. I keep my RPF ships/opinions off my main account, and even if I DO see a post that I would otherwise interpret as possibly shippy, I just won’t bring it up on said person’s posts, you know?

Damn this made me remember I have a DNI myself on one my accounts, 🤣 I have a minors DNI on one of my sideblogs. But I know I can’t prevent minors from seeing my posts or lying about their age or reblogging to a private sideblog or doing anything else that would go unnoticed. But once I do notice you interacting, if you’re clearly underage I’ll block you, just cuz I don’t feel comfortable with minors following my smutty fanart account even if I know minors look at smutty fanart, as someone who did look at smutty fanart as a minor. . .🎶Maybe I’m the problem it’s me. 🎶

No.

It's a stupid phrasing and no amount of validity in the criteria will make it less stupid.

No one here thinks they're always deep and meaningful. What we all say every time this comes up is that it's bad to conflate "I will block you if..." and "It is your job to research my boundaries ahead of time".

I'm not interested in people crying about how they like using an inaccurate term and everyone is supposed to understand what they mean. In practice, many people do mean that it's other people's job to enforce their boundaries for them. Validating this garbage terminology just encourages them.

It's a stupid, shitty term and we should move away from it.

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macabr3-barbi3 · 3 months ago

Text

Quackpot (RadioApple- Ducky Ball Gag)

OH MY GOD this has been such a wild ride! I'm so excited to have been a part of this and gotten to collaborate with such talented and amazing people- please go look at everything else we've done over the course of Kinktober on our beautiful Masterlist by the lovely @synamartia. Another living shoutout to the wives @fraugwinska (who has made me one more stunning banner) @hazelfoureyes @minkdelovely @su

With no further delay, for a Happy Halloween- the ducky ball gag fic!

Summary: Lucifer makes a bet with Alastor, who doesn't think to question the verbiage. Tags: questionable bets, rimming

“I don’t know why you insist on using those portals of yours,” Alastor tells him one night, sat at the bar for a drink. Husk had already retired for the evening, Angel Dust was nowhere to be seen, and Charlie and Vaggie were out for a date, the first in a while with the craziness that had been the Hotel for some time now. Alastor had assured the princess that he would look over the place, and it had been quiet enough that he found himself agreeing to Lucifer’s offer to join him for a drink. They didn’t often meet in public spaces alone together, just in case- they opted to keep their burgeoning relationship to the confines of their respective suites, having not decided that it was time yet to alert everyone to their changing feelings.

No one would have thought that something akin to romance had blossomed between them- least of all Lucifer. But they were here now, their evenings spent together between either set of their sheets whether the activities were carnal or not. Sometimes he just laid there with his head on Alastor’s chest and ran his fingers through the soft fur that coated the demon’s body, glad for the moments between them that were soft and quiet; not a king and a sinner, but two people appreciating one another’s company.

Other times, like now, Alastor insisted on pushing his buttons even when there was nothing to be gained from it. “What do you mean?” He asks, though he knows the conversation is bound to become one of Alastor trying to one-up him in some way. That, at least, had never changed as they grew closer.

Alastor waves a hand dismissively. “They’re so slow,” he says, his cheeks tinted with the effects of the alcohol and his speech absent of the staticky filter that he usually adorned. “Why, with powers such as yours one would think that you could simply teleport- travel via shadows, the likes. But you insist on the portals that take time to open before you can even step through.”

Lucifer rests his head in his hand and watches Alastor with a soft smile on his face. “I happen to like the portals,” he says, and Alastor waves him down again.

“Yes, but sometimes efficiency is more important than preference, yes?” He gives Lucifer a knowing smile. “I’d go so far as to wager on my shadows being able to get me to the bedroom before you!”

Lucifer pauses at the wording- Alastor knew better than anyone that phrasing is key when making any sort of deal, and a bet fell into those rules as well. “I’m game,” he says carefully, and Alastor’s ears perk up. “What are your terms?”

“Oh, I was merely poking fun,” he says, trailing a finger down Lucifer’s arm. “But if you’d really like to test it, I’ll indulge you, darling. You’re welcome to think of a prize for the ‘winner’ if you’d like.”

Lucifer grins, and with a flourish of his hands he presents something that he had been working on in secret- a rubber duck with thick black straps that came off the sides, meant to be affixed to one’s head to hold their mouth open. It had really been a joke item, created on a whim from a teasing inquiry from Angel Dust about whether a rubber duck could be a suitable ball gag in a pinch. Alastor had been busy with Overlord business, and Lucifer…

Well, Lucifer had a lot of free time on his hands when Alastor wasn’t available.

Alastor’s eyes narrow when Lucifer shows off the rounded end that went into one’s mouth. “First one to your bedroom wins,” he says, holding his other hand out to shake, “and the loser has to wear this for… oh, let’s say at least an hour.”

He can see the gears turn in Alastor’s head- not evening considering the possibility of his loss, most likely, and instead picturing Lucifer with the thing in his mouth, petulant and cross and unable to speak for an hour. He knew it was enticing, the idea of shutting him up with one of his own inventions.

The angel himself hadn’t initially had any plans on using it with his lover, but Alastor did love to run his mouth. And he knew the blush of humiliation that would grace his face the whole time would be stunning.

Lucifer resists the urge to cheer when Alastor takes his hand and shakes it with no questioning or edits of the words he had spoken. “Very well, my dear- I suppose I shall see you in a moment.” His grin is wicked, self assured as he fades into the murky shadows beneath him and vanishes.

Once he’s gone, Lucifer allows himself a single loud whoop! of excitement before he stands and steps-

Straight into Alastor’s bedroom, reality merely conforming around him to put him where he needs to be, which is just close enough to Alastor’s bed to take a seat. The surge of satisfaction he feels when Alastor slips under the door with the shadows- mere seconds after having been in the bar- is immeasurable, and only grows when he spots Lucifer lounging on the edge of his mattress.

“Impossible,” he says, and Lucifer definitely doesn’t chuckle at the look on his face at being bested. “You- where is the portal?” He demands as he stalks closer, and Lucifer runs his hands calmingly down the sinner’s arms.

“I didn’t use the portal- that wasn’t part of the deal.” He grins when Alastor’s jaw drops, realizing he’d been had. “I prefer the portals, but I have faster ways to travel- they mess up my hair,” he adds with a wink, using a hand to slick back a stray hair that had escaped his neat quaff.

“You cheated,” Alastor huffs, but Lucifer can tell by the blush that graces his cheeks that he knows the bet is done- and Alastor had lost. “Clearly the implication was that you would use the portals.”

“You of all people know how important the wording of a deal is- that you didn’t think to correct it is on you.” He takes Alastor’s hand in his, tracing his fingers over the palm before releasing him and presenting the ducky gag, straps held aloft for Alastor to see. “Let’s get that timer started, shall we?”

To his credit, Alastor offers no resistance. He sits on the bed and opens his mouth wide, allowing Lucifer to insert the rounded end to his mouth and affix the straps around his head, carding his blackened fingers through the soft red strands as he does so. He makes sure it’s tight, and magics a timer to hover beside them- when Alastor tries to scoff out a noise, the duck wheezes out a loud squeak!

The effect is immediate: Alastor’s face goes as red as his hair, eyebrows creased in delightful embarrassment that Lucifer decides right away that he wants to keep right where it was. He had forgotten about the noises it made, but now he had the potential to make this particular win so much more entertaining. A jackpot for both of them.

“How embarrassing! You’d think a fawn would bleat but this is even better- the big, bad Radio Demon; all squeaky and cute,” he says delightedly, and Alastor’s glare is red hot and burning. He turns to straddle Alastor’s thighs, arms resting casually atop his shoulders and letting a cocky smirk take over his features. “I wonder what else I could do to get this guy to make a little noise,” he says coyly, tapping lightly at the beak of the duck.

Alastor rolls his eyes, and Lucifer takes it as a challenge; he tangles his fingers into Alastor’s hair and grinds his hips down in the same motion, resulting in a lovely quack from the duck when Alastor bites down in an attempt to stifle the sound. He also feels the beginning of Alastor’s sizable erection growing beneath him, hot and hard already from the minor stimulation Lucifer had provided. Alastor’s eyes narrow at Lucifer’s actions, his antlers thickening atop his head at the challenge that’s being presented.

Lucifer coaxes him to lay on his back, pressing soft kisses to his skin as the king slowly unbuttons his shirt, letting his long and agile tongue squirm along the line of the scar Adam had left on his dear. He was rewarded every now and then with a poorly repressed squeak from the duck, and Alastor’s blush spread down his neck and chest with every one. Lucifer dismounted the Sinner’s lap to remove his trousers, curling a hand over his swollen cock and giving him a couple firm strokes.

SQUEEEEEEEEEAK

The noise the duck makes rises in pitch at the end, and Alastor’s hands fly up from being twisted in the sheets to cover his face, the duck peeking out underneath like it was mocking him. His ears were flat against his head, limbs trembling when Lucifer leaned down and licked a stripe along the turgid flesh in his hands.

“Come on, Bambi,” Lucifer coos, and Alastor parts his fingers enough to shoot him a glare- one that held such frustrated humiliation and a promise of revenge that he felt his own cock harden, still trapped in his slacks. He runs his fingers in broad, curious strokes over Alastor’s lightly furred thighs, muscular and thick.“What do you say we make another bet, huh? You last until the timer goes off and you can pick the prize- anything you want.” He sees Alastor’s crimson gaze dart to the hovering timer, which Lucifer turns so he can see the remaining forty-some odd minutes counting down. An eyebrow quirks alongside an inquisitive quack from the duck, and Lucifer smiles fondly at the question he knows Alastor is asking. “If I win? We get to use this again.” He reaches up and delicately traces the straps of the gag with his fingers, feeling the heat of Alastor’s face under his touch- his cock twitches pressed into the fabric of Lucifer’s pants. “Deal?”

Alastor rolls his eyes but nods, taking his hands from his face to reach for the buttons of the King’s shirt; his eyebrows crease when Lucifer leans away, trailing his fingers back down Alastor’s body, digging into the flesh of his thighs before slipping underneath them and pushing.

The Overlord sits up on his elbows, a series of noises escaping the duck as he does. “This okay?” Lucifer asks sweetly, one arm braced on the backs of Alastor’s thighs to expose his ass, his cute tail whipping back and forth across the covers, and the force of his groan is so strong that Lucifer can feel it vibrate down his whole body. He doesn’t protest or try to move away though, waving his hand in a ‘get on with it’ motion, and Lucifer tries not to let his excitement be too obvious as he leans in and swipes his tongue across the clenched muscle laid bare before him.

They didn’t do this often, even though they both enjoyed it immensely. Alastor would get too into his head about the way he sounded, often muffling himself into a pillow or biting his arm to suppress it, despite Lucifer telling him in no uncertain terms that he thought the noises Alastor made were the sexiest things he had heard in his existence.

It seemed with the ducky gag in place, he had no such reservations. As Lucifer worked the dark bud until he could push his tongue inside, all he could hear from the deer was a series of soft squeaks, drawn out squeals of the rubber noise maker inside the gag, the occasional loud QUACK when he bit down hard as Lucifer brought a hand up to stroke his cock in an attempt to secure his victory.

He knows all the tells of Alastor’s body, and he brings him right to the brink twice fucking him on his tongue, easing off the first time and chuckling into the plush skin of Alastor’s cheeks when his hands are forcibly removed the second time before he can reach the edge. He eats Alastor out with vigor, thrusting his tongue hard into the hole that has softened for him, pliant and eagerly clenching around him. Alastor’s fingers are tangled messily into his hair, pulling at the golden strands as he fights back the rush of pleasure. Lucifer ruts his own cock into the bed, erection straining and leaking against his pants. He has no idea how much time has passed as he moans into Alastor, who squeaks through the duck in return.

He can feel the tremble in Alastor’s thighs as he approaches his release when the timer rings above him, the clinking of metal loud in the room as the ducky gag magically unfastens, a noise from the duck trailing off into one of Alastor’s rough, gravelly groans. He twists his fingers hard in Lucifer’s hair, dragging him away from his ass and back onto the bed.

“It would seem the victory is mine this time,” he says, his voice wrecked from the noises he had been making behind the gag. He presses his hips insistently into Lucifer’s, who snaps his fingers to remove his clothing and prepare himself in one magical motion. He feels the hot head of Alastor’s cock against him, teeth nipping dangerously at his ear. “And naturally, dearest, I intend to collect my prize immediately.”

#covenworks2024 #kinktober 2024 #hazelfoureyes #fraugwinska #sugoi-writes #minkdelovely #synamartia #AHHHHH #screaming crying throwing up #what a wild ride i love all of you #radioapple #lucifer x alastor

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the-writer-in-the-winter-forest · 2 years ago

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One Less Burden

Summary: Miguel goes to clear his head after a nightmare and to process his current findings of an Earth where another version of him exists.

Features: Miguel O'Hara, Lyla, and Earth-928's Curt Connors.

Warnings: (Very small ones, but I'm being considerate) Depictions of panic attacks, depression, and anxiety.

Whump, hurt/comfort, angst fic!

Authors Note: From the winner of my Miguel SFW poll, the people asked for angst, and angst is what you shall get!!

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It was just a dream.

Of course, it was a dream, none of it made any sense. The images, the scenarios, none of it made sense, none of it could have been possible. That didn't make the fear of it any less real though.

Miguel's trembling hands run along the back of his neck where his skin is damp and hot. His ears are ringing like an early warning system. This must be what a spider sense feels like, is it? Research and first-hand accounts of others suggest differently. If this is how it feels, Miguel already hates it. Pushing his palms against his ears, he breaths deeply and hard to help drown out the ringing.

Miguel pulls the bed sheets off him, feeling suffocated and cold due to their dampness. Every inch of him wanted to go running and dive into a freezing lake, the shock alone would be enough to shift back his scenes to reality.

It ends up being the soft voice of a certain AI that ends up doing so instead. “Miguel?”

He should have known that it wasn't going to take Lyla long to show up. Her small form appears on Miguel's left bedside table looking concerned. “Your heart rate and blood pressure are elevated.” She scrolls through the display in front of her showcasing Miguel's vitals.

“Lyla,” He sighs, sounding more tired than annoyed. “What did we discuss about monitoring my vitals?” It's a rhetorical question, of course, more so a reminder to Lyla not to monitor him while he sleeps, especially while he sleeps, it’s creepy.

“Should I talk to Doctor Connors about getting you back on some sleep aids?”

Pills, meds, there's always one or the other to treat something of his. Whether it be Rapture, anxiety, depression, or his restless nights. It feels like there’s so much of Miguel that can’t be lessened without the help of a special little pill.

Lyla's expression softened when she sees how worn down Miguel looks. But his weariness is nothing new and Lyla's sympathy hasn't lessened. Her partner is in pain, and there are sadly more limitations to her than anyone else. What is the use of being as advanced as she is if she couldn't help in the ways she wants? She watches his hands trace over the various scars on his upper body, they seem to be the only tangible thing keeping him in this moment. He doesn’t want to go back to sleep, yet the exhaustion still lingers heavily around him.

“Yeah…that sound like a good idea.” Miguel presses his forehead against his knuckles forcing himself to try to feel drowsy. Let his exhaustion take him. “Get me in for a session with Doctor Keaton too if you can.”

“You got it, Boss.” Lyla watches Miguel carefully when he retrieves an autoinjector from his side table drawer. Even she winces when the needle pierces into Miguel's shoulder. But compared to everything else, it's the only pain that lasts a few seconds. “Maybe you should take the day off.” It’s a statement, not phrased as a question. She doesn't want her tone to sound passive. She had been hesitant to even make the suggestion. Even without having an intellect such as her or even if she hadn't known Miguel very well, she would have known the answer. But even with that, for Miguel's sake, she’ll continue to hope that there will be more days than not that he’ll allow himself some moments of peace. His wide eyes follow him out to the terrace of his bedroom to look at the city lights below him.

“Tell Jess and Curt to look after things for a bit. I’m going out.” His hands grip the railing tightly, he’s careful not to dent it.

Lyla looks in disbelief at this remark. Guess it's never too late to rely on others. “Going out wh-” Before the AI can ask for any further information, which really would have been appropriate considering Miguel just leaped from the terrace, diving down into the city below. Without Lylas' deadpanned expression, anyone else would have considered this cause for worry. He's so dramatic. "He’s really gotta stop doing that.” She grumbles before evaporating from the room.

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The rushing chill of the night along with the soft rain against his naked body, mixed with the fiery adrenaline pumping through his system the further and further he falls, it’s actually peaceful to him. When he’s ready his suit encases him.

It’s rainy nights like these that make Miguel think back to when he and his brother Gabe were kids. They’d make paper boats and race them along the stream near their house. When the rain came, the stream would pick up, which made the conditions for boat racing perfect.

Not wanting to be bothered for the rest of the evening, Miguel shuts off the receiver in his suit that holds, manifests, and can summon Lyla. Of course, she doesn't exist solely in his suit. She’s a free-range AI, as Miguel liked to refer to her, though Lyla grimaced at the idea of being compared to a farm animal. “Those chickens aren't solving interdimensional travel equations with the eggs they lay, Boss.” He remembers her telling him.

He needs time to himself without Lyla monitoring him. He hasn't been himself lately. Everything inside of him feels gnarled, raw, and exposed like an open wound. No. He’s had opened wounds before, and they don't hurt like this. The misery hurts worse than any physical injury he’s received over the years. Those can be bandaged, stitched, and iced, only simple fixes like ones that can be solved with a pill.

Never before had he been so happy to be beating down muggers and robbers. This distraction is very much needed. It’s not a healthy way of dealing with his anger. He’s better than this, letting his frustrations get to him, and yet here he is, still angry.

He swings and leaps past the tall buildings, past the busy motorized streets, passing like a blur, almost unnoticeable. It's only when he finds a good spot to perch and rest for a moment that he can stop and think, be truly alone, and just think. Think about what’s been on his mind for the past seven months.

It was childish to call it unfair. But it’s how he feels. It’s wrong and unfair. He feels that fact burning at his core. But how it plays out..it’s wrong, too.

He had stumbled across Earth-829 purely by accident, purely by chance. He almost didn't believe it. All looked too perfect to be true. An Earth where he wasn't alone, he has a wife, a daughter, people who love him…or rather, someone like him. Seeing it all the way it was made him angry, envious even. And the most cruel part of it all is that he knows it doesn't end well. Not too long from now, the alternate version of him will meet a tragic and sudden end. His family would be distraught, his wife, and his daughter in despair. Daughter, he has a daughter. Miguel shakes his head. She isn't yours, you idiot.

He hasn't told anyone about what he found, not Lyla, not Jess, not Curt, or his wife Carmen. No one. The reason for that is that he can’t imagine what any of them would say if Miguel were even to suggest it

There's no way he couldn't, shouldn't! This idea of his, this insane idea, shouldn't be keeping him awake at night. No part of him should be entertaining it. Leave it alone, leave it be, let it play out the way it’s supposed to, he’d tell himself all this over and over again, because it may have been what anyone else would have told him. Why can’t he just be content with the way things are now? The overwhelming nature of it all was swarming him.

Miguel freezes at the edge of his perch, his nerves and senses overloading. The leap to the next building over should have been nothing that would make him stop this cold. And yet the distance made everything spin. Memories of his childhood once again come flooding back to him. His brother had taken him up onto the roof of their house when he was no older than eight, it terrified him so badly, he wouldn't stop screaming until his parents finally managed to get him down. It's been years since he got over his fear of heights. Why has it suddenly made a reappearance after all this time? He hadn't even noticed that the rain had stopped, nothing was registering, no lights, sounds, nothing. His chest tightens, and his breathing becomes slow and shallow. His systems are overloading.

“Lyla...” The words barely escape Miguel's lips before he collapses clutching his chest. “...help..”

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His hearing is the first thing to come back to him.

The loud ringing is replaced by soft murmurs, voices that he couldn't recognize as they phased in and out.

The soft, low light on his bedside table made him feel safe. The warmth of his bed instead of the wet hard ground where he had…

Miguel springs forward in bed, having a brief recollection of Deja Vu from only a few hours ago. He immediately tenses, grabbing his shoulder. From the look of it, the skin is heavily bruised. Surprisingly, taken off her guard by Miguel's sudden return to consciousness, Lyla waves her game away, dissolves herself, and then reappears.

“Hey, easy, Boss.” She speaks soothingly. “Everything's ok, just breath.” Miguel listens to Lyla, breathing slowly and steadily. He’s safe. He’s alright. “I pinpointed your location when you contacted me. It was so strange that I wasn't able to track you once you left the building.” Lylas is never shy about showcasing her classic sarcasm. Especially when it comes to Miguel. "From what I could gather, you blacked out due to over exertion. I dispatched some of the others. Once they found you, they brought you back here.” She pauses, allowing Miguel to collect his thoughts while also regretting her snarky comment from just a few moments ago. That regret is what makes her not immediately ask Miguel why he had been found unconscious on a rooftop in the rain and in the middle of the night. He’s still collecting himself. She doesn't want to push him.

“Thank you.” Miguel breathes laying back down, looking at his AI assistant with great appreciation.

“I’m always here, Boss.” She reassures him. “Plus, you pulled me out of a 1v1 pong match with myself.”

Miguel stares at Lyla with pure confusion. “Pong?”

Lyla's hologram flickers when she shrugs. “Eh, I wanted to see what the hype was about. back in the 70's”

“And what did you find out?” Miguel asks, sounding genuinely curious as to what conclusion the AI could have come to.

“People in the 70’s were wierd.”

“You always were more of a Tetris girl anyway.”

Lyla gives a look that can’t argue with that fact. Her eyes behind her heart-shaped glasses turn worried again. She phrases her words carefully so as to not freak Miguel out any more than he just had been. “Are you ok?”

The way that she asks that question tells Miguel that it has more than one meaning. And he knows which one Lyla is asking, it’s the one that he can’t tell her the truth about, the one where he has a solution, but he just can’t seem to trust anyone with it. He needs to tell someone, tell them what he’s found and what that could mean for him. Lyla can see how hard he is thinking about her simple question. It is simple, right? She thinks back to her limitations, here's another shining example of her inability to help, her inability to comprehend something that is so simple for an AI, but almost impossible for a human.

“Can you message Curt? Tell him I need to talk to him?”

It didn't take long for Curt to arrive. Miguel allowed him access to his room when he heard his knock at the door. He’s much shorter than Miguel, with a slim build and dark hair. Under his lab coat, he was dressed sharply and professionally. If Miguel had known Lyla longer than he had known Curt Connors, maybe she would have been the one that he would have told this all to. But Curt has been there since Miguel's accident at Alchemax. Helped him by creating a knock-off brand of Rapture that will, over time, diminish his need for the drug. He headed the science and research division of the Spider Society. It took many great minds to keep this place running smoothly. All the scientists, doctors, and engineers had once worked with Miguel and Curt at Alchemax but had broken off when discovering more of the company's darker secrets. They were folks who had been misguided, just looking to make amends.

Curt knew a bit about past mistakes himself. He takes a moment to look Miguel up from head to toe before telling him, “I’m glad you’re ok.”

Miguel gives a nod propping himself up on his pillows. “What did Carmen say?”

Doctor Connors sighs, pulling up a chair to sit at his friend's bedside. “I may still be learning my wife’s native language, but I can recognize the curse words in en español. Which I don't think is that impressive. Then again, she knows many of the curse words in Mandarin, so we’re both equally terrible, I guess, to each other's cultures.” He shrugs none nonchalantly, laughing at the scenario. “Lyla told me that you’re not sleeping well again.”

Miguel shakes his head, not wanting to focus on that specific issue at the moment. “That’s not why I asked you to come up here.”

“If it was to confess your deep romantic feelings for me I’m sorry to say that you’re too late, I’ve been off the market for the past year.” Miguel raises his eyebrow towards the doctor, indicating his want for him to understand that this conversation isn't the time for jokes. Curt makes quick work to rearrange himself. “Just kidding." He gestures his hand. "Proceed.”

Miguel takes another deep breath, thinking about how to phrase what he’s about to tell his friend. He has to tell someone, he’s been struggling with this for months, and keeping it to himself was adding to this weight inside of him more and more with each passing day. Maybe it was time to lift some of the burdens he was giving himself.

Miguel looks at Curt with every bit of seriousness he can muster trusting himself and trusting his friend. All cards are on the table.

“I found something... and I don't know what to do with it”

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theoutsiders-luvr · 18 days ago

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Notes from Nowhere:

Authors Notes: I’ve began writing a fic and I thought I’d share it on here!! I really hope y’all like it! I currently have 2 fics I’m working on but this is the first one!

Chapter 1:

Soda was the most handsome guy in all of Tulsa. Ask anyone. But he was still a Grease. And Greasers had it hard. Lived on the East side of Tulsa. Always had more hardships than the rest of the kids his age. But Soda could care less. He was happy. He lived his life and he loved it. He got drunk on just plain living. He was proud to be a Greaser.

He greased his hair just like any other Greaser. His blonde, curly locks pushed back out of his face. His DX shirt that he kept open and unbuttoned but the tank top Darry made him wear. His dark jeans to hide the car grease stains from work. His mis-matched socks that got covered by his brown cowboy boots. Soda was checking himself out in the mirror like he usually did before work until there was banging on the bathroom door.

“C’mon Soda, hurry up! Darry says you need to hurry up or else he’s gonna leave you and I need to get in there to grease my hair.” Pony yelled as he knocked ferociously on the bathroom door.

Soda opened the door with a smile on his face. “Jesus Christmas, Pone, knock any harder and the door will fall off the hinges” Soda loved using made up phrases like ‘Jesus Christmas’ it was what he loved to do. Pony rolled his eyes, Soda ruffled his hair as he walked past him into the bathroom to grease his hair.

“Soda, cmon!” Darrel yelled from the living room. For being such a patient guy with the whole gang, he could get pretty impatient at times.

“I’m comin’ Dar! No need to holler” Soda jogged his way down the hall and grabbed his DX hat from the table. He never wore it. It hid his hair that he worked too hard on. But Darry was always on him about not taking it because it was ‘apart of his work gear’. He ran out the door and to the his dad’s old truck that was now Darrel’s.

“Hey Dar, can I drive today?” Soda was sitting on the hood of the truck even though Darry hated it. He was kicking his boots like a child that was sitting on too big of a chair.

“No way.” Darrel responded as he closed the house door behind him.

“What? How come?”

“Because last time I let you drive, you went 20 miles over the speed limit and ran 2 stop signs and a red light.” Darry walked cautiously down the front steps of the house. It was an old house. It needed many repairs but Darrel would get to that later.

“Those are just suggestions, Dar. You don’t gotta actually follow them” Soda teased but Darry didn’t know if he really really thought that or was just trying to mess with him.

“That’s exactly why you aren’t driving the truck.” Darry walked down and got into the driver's side of the truck. Soda rolled his eyes but jumped off the hood of the truck and got into the passenger’s side. Darry started the truck and drove away from the house. Soda stuck his hand out to try and turn on the radio but Darry was more of a quiet driving kind of guy, unless it was his kind of music, like country, and country was most definitely not Soda’s favorite. He liked Elvis and the Beatles. He turned the dial to the Elvis station, and while Darry didn’t mind Elvis, this morning he would much rather have a silent drive. So he reached over and turned the radio off. Soda gave him a look before deciding not to press it. Even if music wasn’t playing out loud, Soda always had a song playing in his head. And right now the song in his head was “Hound Dog by Elvis Presley.” His fingers were subconsciously tapping to the beat on his leg.

Darry looked over at the boy tapping on his leg. He smiled slightly before turning his eyes back to the road. Soda could never sit still, some part of him was always moving, and Darry knew that. It wasn’t uncommon that Soda was moving, whether it be his mouth, his eyes, his feet or his hands. He could never sit still. Darry drove the speed limit, didn’t run any stop signs or red lights. He finally pulled up to the DX and looked over at Soda waiting for him to get out. Soda finally looked at his surroundings and realized that he was there.

He looked over at Darry and smiled as he opened the door, “Thanks Dar, I’ll see you tonight.”

“See you tonight, Soda. Don’t worry about dinner, I’ll make it tonight. Make sure Pony does his homework, yeah? I should be home on time, okay?”

Soda nodded as he stood in front of the open door. “Bye, Dar. Love you”

“Love you too, Soda” Soda slammed the door but immediately winced, he looked in the window and saw Darry giving him a look. Darry hates how everyone in the gang would slam any door, except Johnny and sometimes Pony. Soda gave Darry a look to say ‘Sorry’ before he ran into the DX to start his shift. He heard the truck drive off down the road as he walked into the DX.

Steve was sitting on the counter with one of his feet on it, his arm propped up against his knee. He was reading some sort of magazine about cars. “Hey! Lazy bum. Get off your ass. We got a job to do” Soda grabbed the magazine out of his hand and smacked him with it. Steve went into a blocking stance to cover his face from the attack. Soda would never hurt Steve. He probably hurt a fly. The only people he would hurt would be a Soc. Soda knew Steve had a hard life at home. That’s why he didn’t take it personal when Steve blocked hits like that. And Steve knew that Soda would never hurt him.

Steve was a tough guy. A Greaser just like Soda. His dark hair greased back. His DX shirt on but buttoned up, unlike Soda. His dark blue jeans that showed the slightest bit of car oil on them, he didn’t care though, he thought it made him look tough. He had worn out, black converse. They were beat up and torn but no where near as bad as Johnny Cade’s.

“Do you got the garage, the counter and pump today?” Steve and Soda usually split up the workload. One day one of them would work the garage while the other manned the counter and worked the gas pump at the same time, and then the next day they’d switch. Steve jumped off the counter but continued to lean against it.

“I’ll take the garage, you take the register and the pump.” Soda hated working the counter, he thought it was boring. Not enough action. But when he was working on the cars, at least he had something to do with his hands. Steve nodded and took his place behind the register. Soda walked out the back door and went out to the garage. He stuck his fingers under the garage door and pushed it all the way up, opening the door to the bright blue sky.

Soda smiled as he turned around and looked at the clipboard that was sitting on the countertop to see what the issue with the black dodge that was sitting in front of him was. Luckily for him, it was just a simple oil change. Soda wasn’t the best at fixing cars, sure he loved doing it, but he wasn’t the best. Steve was the best guy he knew to fix cars. He knew any car in and out. He could take a car apart and put it back together. Soda wasn’t that savvy at it. Soda was never the best at anything. Sure he had a lot of things he was okay at but never the best.

Soda had a smile on his face as he pushed himself underneath the car to take out the old oil. He always had a smile on his face. It was hard to find a time where there wasn’t one plastered from ear to ear. He always believed that a smile was contagious and if he had a smile on his face then others would hopefully have a smile on theirs. He felt it was his job to make sure others were happy.

He finally got the oil plug undone and the oil was pouring out into the oil pan underneath it. He looked up at the underneath of the car as he waited for the oil to finish draining. His hands were already covered in oil as he put the plug back. He pulled out the oil pan from underneath and set it to the side. He grabbed a new can of oil, he opened the hood and unscrewed the top. He slowly poured the new oil into the opening before he stuck the dipstick in the oil and pulled it back out. He looked at the level and smiled as he wiped off the oil using a rag from his back pocket. He stuck the dipstick back into oil and screwed it into place. He slammed the hood of the car close. He grabbed the keys from a hanger and got into the car. He pulled the car out of the garage and parked it on the side.

He got out as he threw the keys into the air and caught them. He did that a few times as he walked back into the garage. He hung up the keys before walking into the DX. While working the garage was usually a better option, whoever was working in the garage had to do the cleaning inside whenever they didn’t have a car. So that’s what Soda did. He grabbed the broom and started cleaning the floors while Steve stood behind the counter watching him.

“Hey Soda, what’re you doin’ tonight?”

“No plans”

“How ‘bout the drag races?” Steve and Soda went to the races all the time. They loved it, especially Steve. He loved cars and watching them speed down the track was amazing. He also loved to race in them, they both did.

“Sounds like a good time. Can’t wait.” Soda smiled. He loved the races. He hadn’t gone in awhile. Soda likes the rodeo more than the races but he loved going anywhere that was a fun time. Soda continued to sweep the floor, he stocked some shelves. Did another oil change on a stupid Soc car and fixed the brakes on another car. Dallas had come over and stole a pack of cigs from the store before leaving. He did it often. The gang often got free stuff because of Soda and Steve working there, sometimes a free drink or candy or even a pack of cigarettes but Dallas hated asking. So he just stole them for himself. Like Soda and Steve wouldn’t notice. But they didn’t care, they thought it was funny.

When he was busy, Soda thought his shift went by real fast, when he wasn’t busy, he thought he was working for a million years. Thankfully for Soda, his shift today went by pretty fast. He hopped in Steve’s car as Steve drove them to the Curtis house. Steve pulled in the driveway as Soda got out, Steve followed suit and they both went into the house. Soda kicked his boots off, not bothering where they landed. He took off his DX shirt and threw it on the couch. Right next to where he plopped on it. He put his feet up on the coffee table. Steve went into the kitchen and grabbed a pop from the fridge before coming back out and sitting next to Soda. He stuck the bottle out to Soda, which he graciously accepted, taking a drink before handing it back to Steve. They sat and watched cartoons that were already on TV, meaning Two-Bit had been there at some point during the day.

Finally, Pony walked into the house. He kicked his shoes off but kept them together unlike Soda.

“Hey Pones! How was school?”

“Boring.” Pong responded as he lugged the backpack off his shoulder. You woulda thought the kid was carrying a ton of bricks but how much he complained about his backpack being heavy. But it wasn’t even. He only had 2 notebooks, a regular book, a few pencils scattered inside, and a folder inside his backpack.

“Now you know why I quit, kid” Soda teased. He hated school. He didn’t find any reason why he should have gone. “How was track?”

“It was okay, I guess.” Pony was always tired after track, giving short responses and sitting down immediately, leaving his homework for later. Soda never understood why he did that. You would think that he would do it before Darry got home so he wasn’t on him about not doing it, Soda never understood the boy when it came to that.

“When’s your next meet? Do you know yet?” Soda watched as Pony sat down on the couch next to him.

“Sunday”

“You ready?”

“Yeah, I guess so. Should be fun.”

“You gonna tell Dar?” Pony didn’t like telling Darry when his track meets were cause Darry insisted on always going. But that meant taking time off work. That meant no money. No money meant not being able to keep his brothers. Pony didn’t want to be the one responsible for that.

He shrugged. “Maybe. I didn’t tell him about the last one.” Soda looked at Pony sadly. He hated that his kid brother was the one that was worrying about all of that. He shouldn’t have to worry about that. He smiled but Pony didn’t see cause he was lost in the episode of Mickey Mouse that was on the TV.

#the outsiders musical #the outsiders #fanfic #darrel curtis #sodapop curtis #the outsiders sodapop #steve randle #the outsiders darry #the outsiders ponyboy #ponyboy curtis #ponyboy michael curtis #stay gold ponyboy #sodapop patrick curtis #the outsiders darrel #musicals #jason schmidt #brent comer #brody grant

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fel0ny-01 · 1 year ago

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I HAVE TO SAY SOMETHING I HAVE TO SAY SOMETHING!!!!!! STATE OF GRACE (TV) IS SO GHOST SOAP CODED. LET ME EXPLAIN. (I will delve deeply into this! Forgive me! Read at your own discretion lmfao)

So “State of Grace” is about falling in love, and the power that falling in love can hold; especially how it can change a person’s views on others and themselves. It holds the deeper and spiritual meaning of what love means, right? Now at its core, the song is about growth, change and redemption. Now that sounds familiar to me, especially in how Ghost/Soap is portrayed in fan-made creations (Fuck you Activison!)

I’m gonna delve into some lyrics really quick that scream Ghostsoap to me. They will be in bold.

“I'm walking fast through the traffic lights

Busy streets and busy lives

And all we know is touch and go”

All they know is touch and go. As a noun, it applies to them. Come back from missions, get debriefed, go back and do more missions again. Touch and Go, as simple as that. They both do it, they’ve been doing it for a while.

Now as an adjective, they would also only know touch and go. For Ghost, this could apply to his relationships. People die when they know him, when they love him. It’s possible they will stay, but very uncertain. In a lot of fanon, Soap doesn’t have this problem. However, if we look at canon, it’s implied in Modern Warfare 3, that he doesn’t have any family to go back to. So it’s all touch and go for them.

“We are alone with our changing minds

Being in the military (or even in childhood), they experience traumatic events that a regular human being would never experience. And usually it’s very unheard of in the military to talk about emotional feelings, you are required to keep that away professionally.

We fall in love 'til it hurts or bleeds, or fades in time”

Relationships come with a lot of hurt. As always. But the words used here (Hurts, Bleeds or fades in time) really strike me as words that would and could be used to describe the relationships the boys have experienced, whether for both, it would be Graves’ betrayal, or for Ghost, Losing Roach.

“And I never (never)

Saw you coming

And I’ll never (never)

Be the same”

This just applies to the general relationship. We see when Soap and Ghost meet after a couple of years, Ghost seems pretty annoyed that he’s working with the sergeant again, but God he didn’t expect to get so close with him that he felt like he had changed from spending time with him. Physically, he did see him coming, but the way Soap wormed his way into Ghost’s heart? He never saw that coming.

“You come around and the armor falls

Pierce the room like a cannonball

Now all we know is don't let go”

THIS. THIS LADIES AND GENTLETHEM. THIS IS THE LINE. I feel as though this is definitely from Ghost’s perspective. When he’s with recruits, or allies, or anyone else other than Soap, he is stone cold, walls up, no banter. But when Soap, the armour (I love this!) falls, whether it’s the battle armour, or the emotional armour; he lets go when he’s around Soap.

The phrase, “pierce the room like a cannonball” really just makes me laugh because it brings out Soap’s inner destructiveness, but also how explosive he was getting into Ghost’s heart. It even works with how he most definitely lights up the room when he walks in, piercing it.

“ALL WE KNOW IS DONT LET GO” they’ve progressed in their relationship, it’s getting to the point where neither can even think about losing the other. That they’d rather die than lose the other person. They knew touch and go before, that was all they did know, but that uncertain feeling has been replaced with a sense of belonging to the other, now all the know is don’t let go.

“We are alone, just you and me

Up in your room and our slates are clean

Just twin fire signs, four blue eyes”

I’d like to think Ghost and Soap spend their spare time in each others spaces, basking in the warmth of the other. I know in a lot of fics, they either go in theirs or the others rooms, because it’s safe there. When they are together and alone, their slates are clean. They are just Johnny and Soap, not the insane murder machines that kill, get shot and get hurt. They are just two boys in love, adoring eachother. Twin fire signs.

“So you were never a saint

And I've loved in shades of wrong”

FROTHING AT THE MOUTH. THIS IS IT. This could be from either of their perspectives, but I do see it as more of a Soap line. Ghost thinks he’s this awful, unredeemable killer who doesn’t deserve anything good, and Soap recognises he’s done bad things (and so has he) but Soap loves in shades of wrong. He knows they’ve both done bad things, but he never wanted anything less than him, anything less than Simon. Anything less than the brutal killing machine he sees himself as.

“We learn to live with the pain

Mosaic broken hearts”

Whether it’s learning to live with the pain of losing people, seeing unimaginable things, or having traumatic things happen to them, they learn to live with it all. They learn to accept their “mosaic broken hearts” even if they don’t accept their own, but the others.

“But this love is brave and wild”

I love this one, because it feels like it captures the explosive nature of their relationship. Their love is brave, they go out on missions where they could lose the other, but they would also kill for the other. They know anything could happen, but yet they still continue to love. And the wild part just screams Johnny, his explosiveness, his willingness to put his love and trust into Ghost, who returns it with much enthusiasm.

“This is a state of grace”

The phrase “State of Grace” means “a condition of being free from sin”. And this just hits different. Soap and Ghost are ‘sinners’. They have committed several sins in the eyes of religion, they have done awful things, they have committed war crimes for god sake!

But their love strips that all away. Their love is a state of Grace, it’s a condition of being free from sin. When they are in love, all their sins, mistakes, they are all gone. When they are together, they are almost like angels. Their love rebuilds through their fractures, and redeems them.

“This is the worthwhile fight”

Lots of fights don’t feel worthwhile to Ghost, he doesn’t feel like some battles are worth fighting for. He feels like they are just doing them out of pure pity, he feels that a lot of the time. But this time, this fight for love and life with Johnny is so worthwhile to him. It’s something he isn’t doing out of pity, or out of command, he is doing it because it’s worthwhile to him.

“These are the hands of fate

You're my Achilles heel”

Ghost’s hands end lives. With the flick of his wrist he can snap someone’s neck, he can do it without hesitation. His hands decide fate. But Soap is his Achilles heel. Soap could sway him from doing some of the things he does out of habit, that’s how much influence he has on him. He would do anything for his Johnny, even if that means giving up the world.

“This is the golden age of something good and right and real”

Finally, thank fuck, finally, they both have something that’s positive for once. Not war, not death, not pain. Something just for them, something that’s good, and right, and real. They both feel it for each other eternally. It feels right, everything slots together so nice, like a jigsaw.

“And I never (never)

Saw you coming

And I'll never (so you were never a saint)

(And I've loved in shades of wrong)

Be the same (we learn to live with the pain)

(Mosaic broken hearts)

(But this love is brave and wild)”

This bit is more technical on the production side, but it really hits me in the heart. To me, it’s like they are reminiscing over the start of their relationship. Ghost saying he will bever be the same, and Soap reassuring Ghost saying that he loves him regardless of what he’s done. That he’s allowed to have this one thing. That they are both allowed to have this.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghostsoap #cod mw2 #johnny soap mactavish #cod #cod mw3 #Taylor Swift #state of Grace #Taylor Swift x call of duty #call of duty x swifties

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formula-fun · 10 months ago

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Hi!!!!

Wow!!!!! Am I the first person to have found out about this????🥳🥳🥳

The lightbulb actually lit when I asked why Charles was sleeping without the duvet in part 3 and you answered. And ended your reply with “hope this helps”.

And last year when I was very much obsessed with your if I had words series and kept shooting inappropriately long feelings/asks into your inbox (still obssessed just more controlled now🤣) you like to reply to some of the questions I filled between the “essays” and end with “hope this helps”.

Yesterday morning I woke up to the email notif of your reply and brief morning clarity i suppose(finger snapping sound) 💡 💡 💡

To save myself the embarrassment of being wrong in your inbox I went over the your authors notes and it’s the same way you don’t like to end with “.” at the end of paragraphs, also no capital letters in the title, also sometimes your preference for using two threes for <33. (Hopefully this doesn’t sound like stalkish🥲, because I not, just chronically online when I’m not at work and it’s off-season for my industry)

I searched your asks to remember the time when you said you were doing an anonymous work and it was around new year’s, when the fic was posted and my brain decided to rewire after reading.

And I was rereading if I had words last weekend and was coming to new light about a lot of things that I missed before. So like both the stories were very fresh on my mind. There were sentence structures and word choices that felt like you, so I asked.

In particular sometimes what stood out to me that you like long sentences (I do too!) and you prefer to use “;” a lot in long sentences. And you like to “,” and add adjectives or short descriptive phrases at the end of sentences. Or maybe that’s just me because i not anything close to a Lit major:

“Sleep is calling him back under, warm and golden.”From strange new worlds

“Max smiles at him, warm and sweet.”

“Max reaches for him, a hand settling on Charles’ hip, sleepy and uncoordinated. ”

From remember me love, when i'm reborn

This is getting very long (sorry!) I love strange new worlds very much your Max voice is absolutely amazing! I’ll save my gushing to the next ask.

WHAT

hahahshdhdh im DEAD 😭😭😭😭😭 you’re not a lit major??? They should be giving you an honorary degree, wtfffffff I don’t even know my own style as well as you do, I thought I was so smooth with this dhfjgkgfjgjgj

I thought <3 would give me away but I’m too lazy not to do it because it’s so much faster on a laptop than trying to copy paste an emoji. did NOT realize <33 is now my calling card. Should have known the authors notes and comment section would be my downfall. I also did not realize I have a writing style that’s recognizable but now that you say that that makes a lot of sense?? This ask is wild tbh, im learning so much here

I don’t think anyone else figured it out before you so congrats on that! 🥳 it’s definitely uhhhhhhhhhhh not the kind of content I am known for, nor is it the content I’m assuming people are following me for, so I still go back and forth on whether I’ll de anon. I’m very impressed you made that connection in the meantime 😂😂😂

#asks #writing tag

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autumnalwalker · 1 year ago

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Find the Word Tag

Thank you for the tag, @sam-glade.

My words to find were walk, run, fly, & swim.

Passing the (pressure free) tag to @silvertalonwritblr, @holdmyteaplease, @floweryprosegarden, @stesierra, @writeblr-of-my-own, @wrenofthewords, @albatris, and the usual open tag to anyone else who wants it.

Your words to find shall be venture, focus, whimsy, & vision.

Walk: The Archivist's Journal, Day 13

Twice a month - usually around the full and new moons but it can vary several days in either direction - the mists appear during the day. And then as night falls the nighttime shades rise. They won’t enter into homes or anywhere else free of mist, but if they find a human, living or dead, they’ll claim them and take them back to the Catacomb Depths where the dead dwell. It’s been decades since the last time someone living was claimed. Everyone’s taught from the time they’re old enough to walk not to venture out on a mist day. The only times anyone ever stays out past morning on one of those days are funerals for the recently deceased, leaving the body for the shades to lay to rest at the end of the ceremony.

Run: Empty Names - 7 - Compilation

Lacuna looks from the USB stick in her hand to the laptop and back to the general direction of Bridgewood’s face. “Thanks,” she stammers, trying not to let her relief show too obviously.

“Free advice: Just leave the heroics to those three,” he says and points a thumb over his shoulder. “Focus on what you’re good at instead of trying to chase some fantasy that’s just going to make you into a liability for the rest of us to clean up after. After all, someone needs to run the website and file the paperwork.”

“Website?”

“Oh, and while you’re here alone, don’t go wandering off or touching anything. Especially not the statues. This place is bigger on the inside and some of the security systems are a bit finicky about distinguishing between intruders and guests. If you need the bathroom or something, just ask one of the cleaning golems and they’ll show you the way. Follow them exactly and don’t stray. I don’t want to have to explain whatever state we find your body in later.” With that last bit of advice he turns around on one heel and jauntily walks toward the door, waving goodbye without looking back and passing Eris on the way. “Have fun not drowning.”

Fly: The Archivist's Journal, Day 301

Whomever you are, I’m sure that by now you’ve noticed that I have a tendency to go on at length about any number of topics, large and small. Whether waxing poetic on the beauty of mundane things or soliloquizing about anxiety and loneliness. I’m not trying to be deep or profound when I do this. I am neither poet nor philosopher, nor do I aspire to be. I hold no great truths of the world in my mind that I’m trying to spread. I have no one that I seek to impress.

So, when I go on like that, it comes down to two things, really. The first is that, from the beginning, this journal has been a tool for helping me understand both this world and myself. As such, much of this is me working through things as I write; a sort of stream of consciousness as I examine things and work through them, stumbles, tangents and all.

The second thing is that I quite simply enjoy it. I’ve said before that the way I speak is not the way I write. Tellings notwithstanding (and those are half recitation and in many ways more like playing a game and being someone else for a time than holding a conversation), when it comes to the spoken word I am prone to laconicism. Short phrases and long pauses. Stutters, stops, and repetitions. The words I find never quite the ones I’m searching for. Peace made with fading into the background because I’ve learned it’s easier than forcing myself to speak up. But the words come easier with the writing. It’s a freedom from the normal frustrations of communication and with that freedom it is hard not to indulge in the whimsy of letting pent up words fly free.

I’m getting better, with the speaking I mean. Slowly, but I am. Having a job that requires me to interact with others helps. The telling helps. The teaching helps. Having friends helps.

Knowing myself helps.

Maybe that helps everyone.

Swim: Empty Names - 15 - Matters of Technique

The first thing Ashan hears upon regaining a comfortable, if drowsy, consciousness is birdsong and the wall-muffled ticking of grandfather clock.

It occurs to him that he is alive, awake, and in a different place. This revelation causes him to sit bolt upright and begin conjuring a shield. The former makes his vision swim and the latter elicits a sharp pain in the back of his neck. He gasps and falls back into the pillow of the bed of one of the guest bedrooms of the bed and breakfast above the office. He tries again, more slowly this time and without doing anything to aggravate the burnout. Scanning the room, he locates his wand on the bedside table next to an untouched water glass and his robes hanging in an open wardrobe. The sight of them both intact and accounted for calms him.

More belatedly, he realizes that his arms are free of any sign of the myriad cuts inflicted by the tripped ward. Lifting the bedsheets finds his legs similarly unblemished. At the lack of scar or even bandages, he begins to wonder if he only dreamt the spear and everything else that happened after tripping the ward.

#tag game #find the word tag #manuscript search tag #writeblr #my writing #writers on tumblr #writing tag games #empty names #the archivist's journal

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vyva-melinkolya · 2 years ago

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hi im fucking obsessed with orbweaving and your other album & EP.

im so curious about your creative process- is there anything you can share about how u go about songwriting, finding your style, collaborating vs working independently? do u produce any of your own stuff? sorry too many questions ok ily bye

Hi thank you sm for listening 🥹

1. As far as songwriting goes, I can go a few ways. The thing that happens most often is phrases or lines or choruses, etc. come to me independently, randomly throughout the day. I write them down all in one place. Later on, this could be days after, or a year after, I take all of the phrases and lines that work well, with each other, thematically and string them all together into a song. Kind of like picking berries from a bunch of different plants, and then afterwards, putting all of the different berries in their own buckets. Does that make sense? Sometimes I can write a song in one day, sometimes it takes me two years to write a song. Regardless, whether not, I have actual lyrics or something, I tend to think of concepts for songs way before anything is on paper, when I’m developing an album, especially. Like, I know that X album is going to have a song about XY and Zand I keep that in mind when things come to me.

Finding my style has been predicated on years and years of obsessive listening. Music, particularly the kind of music I listen to, is my autism special interest. I tend to have two different kinds of influences, textural influences: Slowdive, my bloody valentine, Godspeed You black Emperor, grouper, duster. And then I also have a influences that “teach”me more about lyrics and general songwriting. Carissas’s Wierd, Giles, Corey, Lisa Germano, Songs Ohia/ Jason Molina, Low. Some of these artists can fit into both camps. It sounds really cliché, but I tend to think of the artists that help me develop my sound less as influencers and more as “teachers”,as much as listening to bands and artists I love is just a part of daily life, catharsis, and such, I am also learning, even if it doesn’t feel like it. As far as finding my style goes, Knowing what to do with everything I’ve learned, it’s been a lot of years of sitting up in my room and fucking around on my guitar. Knowing what sounds good, doing what doesn’t work well. I don’t consider myself a technically proficient guitarist, but I consider myself very emotionally proficient. When it comes to instrumentals, I’d much rather engender feelings of loss or heartbreak or nostalgia or devotion, rather than composing something “impressive”. Though the common denominator in all the music I’ve made is an ethereal type of sound, it continues to evolve. The self titled, and the violet EP were very classic shoegaze, the releases, before that, many of which I’ve taken off the Internet, are much more arcane, sometimes “folky” form of that. The material for Orbweaving, and the material for the solo LP I’m releasing this year still have moments of a heavy layers and lots of ambience— but there’s also some more sparse moments, more of a “slowcore” kind of deal. I really want to move towards having my vocals more so front and center, as I become more confident in both my singing, and my songwriting. I was born into a family where everyone was naturally impressive singers, and it just so happened that I was the only one that wasn’t, so a lot of my older music was subconsciously, built around, hiding my voice. As I continue to develop it, it feels good that I can remove a veil of two if that makes sense.

Working with others, is relatively new to me, when I was in high school and college, I never really joined anyone else’s band (aside from an industrial band I was in for about a month) and though I had a live band playing for me much of the time, all of the compositions we’re done by me. I honestly used to tell people that Vyva was “a band” because it seems like people respected me a little bit more versus if I promoted it as a solo project. I was a band Kind of a control freak and that way, so working with Madeline opened up my mind a lot. I’m much more in love with the idea of collaboration now. Since working with her in summer of 2021, i have done live guitars for a couple SRSQ tours, and have been working on some of the guitars for Ethel Cain’s records—so working on Orbweaving opened up a lot for me mentally. For me, collaboration is a lot about relinquishing, having faith in the other person or other people you’re working with. It can be really hard, but I’m glad I’ve started moving towards that because it feels wonderful.

Everything up until “Orbweaving” I produced at home, the only thing I needed someone else’s help with was mastering. Me and Madeline did a lot of mixing together when I was in New Mexico, but in the following year, she finalized all of the mixes on her own. The upcoming solo LP, l enlisted the help of a producer to record me in a studio and mix the record. Also to record drums (the instrument I feel the least confident with, used to do all of it digitally) and some of the bass. The process, pandemic obstacles included, took about two years. I’m only just getting it remastered, because I wasn’t happy with the first round. Some of the guitars I recorded on my own at home, and there are three features on the record (teehee) that for recorded by the vocalists at their respective houses and places of living. In general, though, very much my first foray into having someone else take the reins on my own record. For the next album, which, because the solo LP has taken so long, I have almost completely written, I want to do a mix of a studio work with a producer, but also try to get as much recording done at home as I can. I have a lot to relearn when it comes to mixing my own music.

#vyva melinkolya #slowcore #midwife #shoegaze

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corolune · 2 years ago

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tag people you want to get to know better

thank you for tagging me, @strangesoulmates and @afewbulbsshortofatanningbed !!!

Three ships:

Any form of Yassen and Alex having to talk to each other. There’s so much to explore, whether it’s a romantic, platonic, or familial relationship…or even enemies.

Doctor/Rose in any form, though I’m quite partial to Nine, Ten, Tentoo, and Twelve. +1 if it’s multiple doctors and a bad wolf Rose!

Merlin/Morgana — unsurprising to anyone who knows me, I love how they mirror each other and there’s so many interesting ways to explore their relationship…either one of them could have turned into the other if they had made different decisions…and the ambiguity of who’s actually “good” is very interesting too! (I know the showrunners want us to think Merlin’s good and Morgana’s evil, but they both have very legitimate reasons for their allegiances, and tbh sometimes Morgana made more sense than Merlin lol)

First ever ship: hahaha I think it was Guy/Marian from BBC's Robin Hood! Or if you want to go even earlier…my first ever fanart at the age of 6 was of fox-Robin and fox-Marian from the disney version (they were in a car with balloons that said “just married” and I very thoughtfully gifted it to my neighbour (who was single lol) and told him to save it for when he gets married…he was such a sweet guy he actually hung it on his fridge for months 😆)

Last song: one of my birds loudly singing their made up song…and the other one aggressively asking him “HEY hey WHAT you doooo??”

Last movie: Balam Ji Love You — don’t judge lol. It’s ridiculous and campy but HILARIOUS, I actually had to pause the video several times to laugh 😆. Thanks to youtube’s algorithm I’ve made my way past Hindi films into regional cinema, which unfortunately doesn’t come with subtitles…but in a strange coincidence, it turns out the language of this movie (Bhojpuri) is a dialect of the same language my great-grandparents spoke! My mum used to hear it at home as a kid but never knew what it was called. SO I’ve once again roped her in to help translate (she understands like 80% of it, and it fills me with so much joy when she gets excited hearing and rediscovering a word/phrase she used to say at home with her grandparents & parents but had forgotten in the past few decades of speaking only Hindi/Urdu and English!)

Currently reading: an excel spreadsheet of project timelines and marketing goals 😭 (I haven’t read a book in so long, pls rec me funny things)

Currently watching: Tere Bin — the sets and costumes are GORGEOUS and I am so impressed with the acting, especially the male lead who has usually been a very friendly, flirty character in past dramas I’ve seen. Just look at the man in the gif below, the first time I saw him in a drama it was a comedy where he was trying to get an older lady to fall for him so he could have money and never have to go to work 😆 — he's done such a good job taking on this intense character! (I’ve paused on episode 5, because I can sense the cliffhangers coming and I’m waiting for the series to actually finish before I continue watching lol)

Currently consuming: chocolate chip cookies!

Currently craving: cherries. A few weeks ago I miraculously found some for $3/lb but they’re back to like $10/lb everywhere 😞

tagging (no pressure if you don't have the time) @yucasava @irelise @jackstarbrightisaqueen @morfoxx @wishuponadragon and anyone else who'd like to play!

#ask #ask game #about me #desiblr #the real question is: how did youtube know my mum knew this language before either of us knew 🤔#anyway I know Bhojpuri movies get a bad rap but the ones I've watched so far seem pretty well made for how low their budget is!#I've mostly watched more recent ones with Khesari Lal Yadav (who is an extremely funny person) and they're quite nice (and very funny)#they're mostly set in the countryside and the key thing you need to keep in mind is they KNOW they've got a low budget #so instead of making things look realistic they always go for whatever is funnier/more entertaining #but it's been very cool to see the place where my grandparents were born! I'm learning so much about the culture #like apparently we're known for being funny 😂#pls message me if you want to hear me ramble on about this lol

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gemtheories · 11 months ago

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i am…conflicted. we got into a huge argument cuz i felt like he attacked my character and he thinks he only deals in logic and not feelings so it doesn’t matter how anyone feels ever.

so i’m like do you not care. and essentially it comes down to him not internalizing any feelings. no ones else’s or his own tbh. he refuses to watch movies that people say are feel good or whatever phrase was used because he doesn’t want to internalize others feelings.

personally, i just think this man has been hurt so much he’s afraid of feeling his own feelings and has had them thrown back at him so much that he doesn’t really try to deal with other people’s feelings either.

fine good for him. ion know if i wanna deal with that though. im offering him a safe space for his feelings and i just wanna be safe to talk about my own. but if im not allowed to have (or express/talk about, for clarity’s sake i guess) my own feelings with him…then what is the point? why be in a relationship? like any kind of interpersonal relationship. i don’t get it. and i don’t think he will have a satisfying answer for me. so idk what do now.

do i drop him? do i ride it out? i’m not trying to fix him but i know he needs therapy and he knows it too. but do i stand ten toes down next to him or not? i’m leaning not.

this man told me i give up too easily. and he’s right. but only in the sense that i give up on myself too easily. i’ll ride out with someone til the end though. so…either way i kind of prove him right no matter the decision i make. which doesn’t bother me at all. moreso, it just provides another facet of him that i love and hate. so perceptive but doesn’t have the well rounded perspective to actually give a good reasoning behind his very correct and solid statement.

this all compounded by the goddamn knowing. i sometimes hate my gifts and surena’s too. why give her all the knowledge that we’re meant to be together and then drop a vision on me of us with a baby named calvin THAT I DIDNT EVEN FUCKING KNOW WAS HIS GRANDFATHERS NAME and i made a fucking playlist called calvin klein. and every song just fucking hits the situation on the head. like why give me this? what am i supposed to do with this knowledge? what decisions lead me toward and away from it??? what if i don’t want it anymore??? what if i really want it? what is the path? you’ve only told me one possible (maybe definitive) outcome. i hate it.

i went to bed last night looking for an answer on whether or not to reach out to him. i dreamt of talking to him. then i a did a tarot spread in the morning. and of course it also said do it. and i did it. and here we are. so what now?

i guess i go to bed with more intentions and questions tonight. with even less certainty than i had yesterday. lovely.

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swordofguts · 1 year ago

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CONTENT WARNING: Sexual Trauma

Wake up, eat, work, watch tv, go to bed, rehash for a year. When that becomes your life you end up with a lot of time to reflect. Maybe living life fast enough makes you miss opportunities and waste the ones given to you. Maybe a relationship founded on antagonism can’t ever last. The phrase, ‘words hurt’, ends up meaning more when you get used to hitting someone where the callouses have built up, but what happens when you miss and hit a nerve.

You make up and promise to start over again until the next nerve gets hit. Your goals for success are drifting apart and are now reaching a point of irreconcilability. The breakup comes over text. Your unspoken fear is that they’re afraid of you. They say they can’t put in the effort anymore and hope you understand. They want to stay friends, really.

You both know that's a lie. There’s been too many secrets shared that have created too much baggage for this to go back to being a friendship again.

You discover from one of the few people you’re still in contact with that she got on a dating app a week after your breakup. That year-long relationship didn’t mean more than a pile of Clydesdale horse shit.

Friends reach out. They say they always knew she was bad news. That they never liked her anyway. That you're better off. You tell yourself you believe it. That’s the second lie you know is a lie as you're saying it. Your friend group feels increasingly untenable since your now former lover is a mutual friend with them.

As a worker in the film industry you try to focus on your career but then a pair of strikes happen and your livelihood gets shut down. Your life is now on pause with one thing dominating your thoughts. You pick up a delivery app job to pay the bills in the meantime, but that leaves you with more unfilled silence that you inevitably fill with what-could-have-beens and what-I-could-have-done-differently.

You’ve always kept most people at a six foot distance. Growing up you got too used to being the butt of most jokes so you cope by putting up a giant black veil over your personal life. You reason that what people don’t know can’t be used against you.

You had that barrier, but what the hell, aren’t you supposed to confide everything in your partner? So you share everything. Your hopes and fears, even the ugly things you’ve never shown anyone else. That kid from when you were 12 that put his hands where you didn’t want them. The ways in which the impact has made you feel uncomfortable in the bedroom.

It doesn’t take long after the breakup for you to discover that she’s given this information out to people outside of the relationship. Apparently she was frustrated in bed and decided to vent to strangers about it.

You let the barrier down, but it turns out it was just a trojan horse.

Growing up you had a father who wanted the best for you, but that best ended up being up feeling always out of reach. He had a temper that always seemed to get aimed at you. So you grow up with the vow that you’ll never have a temper like an H bomb.

She tells you you have blue eyes that look like hurricane formations or calm oceans on a dime. You wonder whether or not those were words of adoration or caution now. You didn’t outgrow the man with a temper, you just lived long enough to become him.

But there is hope (as I’m writing this with three months left in the year) in this life. Tonight I reconnected with an old friend from back when I had a real life. We go to a concert for the music from Spider-Man Into The Spider Verse together. We talk about our lives lived with hopes and fears, regrets and successes. You realize that all those relationships that you thought had been tainted were really still always there. You just had to take that leap of faith.

You don’t know where this road you’re on is going to take you or whether you’ll enjoy every bump or snag. You don’t know where you stand in this industry and your place in it has never felt more uncertain. You are, however, sure of one thing. You will always possess the power to put one foot in front of the other, to carry on in the face of all that insists you turn back. For that is the capacity allows us all to live the lives we deserve. Someone else will come along that you’ll be able to share your burdens with. You will live in the light of tomorrow instead of the twilight of yesterday. You will live and you will love.

#breakup #trauma #uplifitng

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apoapsis · 1 year ago

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@dimensionalspades said, 'i told you i'm all right. would you just leave?' [soldier]

He never knows what Jack wants– not really.

Wherever there is a pull, SIGMA finds himself subsequently pushed back, as if Jack wasn’t quite certain as to whether or not he wanted to keep him at arm’s length or not. The way he seems to prefer napping and resting together, yet treats the moments of tenderness as if they were mere necessity rather than any particular desire for his presence. Most bizarrely, he does not know what to make of the way Jack tends to outright refuse any attempt made to directly comfort him.

Even SIEBREN, despite his bristles and hostility, craves comfort, to a degree.

That’s what makes it feel so jarring, when he expresses empathy and compassion only for Jack to snap at him in turn. It’s confusing and confrontative– as if he is doing something wrong.

How can he be doing it wrong?

It was the only thing he, intrinsically, knew how to do-- comfort others.

.... Had TALON finally taken that from him as well...?

That may be the one thing SIGMA could say that he objectively hates about Jack– the way he refuses to address his own hindrances even when they directly impact someone other than himself. It’s late when he finds himself disturbed from what had been a particularly restful slumber, abruptly displaced from the makeshift bed with a horse-like kick that feels very intentional in the moment. His large, willowy body slams a bit harshly on the loosely tiled floor of the little hideout, too disoriented to arrest his momentum via gravity. It was one thing to disturb him from his sleep– but to wake him so carelessly…? He’s furious.

“-- God, do you fucking mind?” SIGMA snaps, though, upon seeing Jack’s tense expression as he attempts to use the bed to assist in picking himself up, some of the initial anger dissipates. Unlike SIEBREN, he just gets frustrated, rather than spiteful. “Er, s-sorry... are you… doing okay?” He’s too damn tired to deal with this, but he doesn’t like the way he keeps finding Jack in states like this. “... Jack. Are you listening to me…?” He’s looking right at him, but he won’t say anything.

“-- Hello…?”

The astrophysicist dares to reach out in an attempt to touch his forearm– and only recoils in confusion when his hand is slapped away with an equally sharp ‘I’m fine’ from the soldier. That wasn’t… the appropriate response. He’s never received that kind of response before– from anyone, really! Especially when last time, Jack had appeared…. Much more receptive to his coaxing.

What had changed…?

“-- Um,” He flusters a little, his palms cupping the edge of the makeshift mattress as he leans against the bed on sore knees. “-- y-you are certain…?” He wishes Jack would stop staring through him like that– as if he isn’t really there. “You… did eject me from your bed…! You know, if you wanted me to find somewhere else to sleep, simply say as much! There is no need to be so… rude about it– you said that I could spend the night–”

Maybe he’s pushing his luck, judging by the frigid response he finally receives.

‘I told you I’m all right; would you just leave?’

Gloved digits anxiously drum against the mattress, SIGMA sitting in the frostbitten silence for several beats as he waits…. For something. What exactly? He doesn’t really know; regret, maybe…? Or, perhaps, a verbal reconsideration of his phrasing. When SIEBREN lashed out, there was always an additional spillage of sympathy and concern– so where is it now? Was that…. Not typical of these engagements?

… Whatever it is that he is waiting for, however, never quite seems to come.

The absence of which leaves him feeling worse; he really did want SIGMA to leave, didn’t he…?

“... Oh.” The utterance feels very flat, the astrophysicist visibly deflating as the realization appears to finally set in. “-- you... would like for me to leave.” He confirms softly. What is so painful about that? He feels small– insignificant. Jack didn’t want him around– did he mean permanently…? What had he done wrong? Why was Jack upset with him? "... I see."

“... I can... do that for you. Of course I can.”

Swallow it down. It’s bitter, but still palatable.

Another uncomfortable pause as SIGMA casts a sidelong glance towards the door, not particularly wanting to move– yet gradually forcing himself to articulate, to rise to his feet and collect his holopad from where Jack often confiscated it to upon his visitations. “I’ll… be going then…?” It’s clear by the way he takes his time, the way he’s constantly glancing back towards the soldier, that he doesn’t really want to go, that he’s practically begging for Jack to at least indicate he did, in fact, want him to stay. “... Back home. Away from you– like you are requesting.”

The resulting silence that fills the spaces in between only serves to hurt him worse, evident in the way he’s practically slamming the door shut behind himself in his haste to remove himself from the premises. The cool night air is anything but refreshing in his exhaustion, SIGMA wanting nothing more than to go back inside and clamber back into Jack’s warm bed– but all he can do is quietly sigh and mentally prepare himself for the grueling trip back home.

#interactions + ғʟɪʀᴛɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ɪɴғɪɴɪᴛʏ ; ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢᴇᴏᴍᴇᴛʀɪᴄ ᴘʀᴏɢᴇɴʏ +#dimensionalspades #recall + ʙʟᴜʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɴᴇs ᴏғ ᴡʜᴀᴛ's ʀᴇᴀʟ ; ʀᴇ ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴜᴛʜ +#sigma vc; leave?? i guess this is... goodbye forever... 🥺🥺🥺#sigma also; [takes the longest possible time to actually leave]

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