#a little slice of life for you!!! they talk about marriage as a concept and fuck about it what else would you want mwah

[fastcardotmp3]

“Fuck ‘till death do we part,” Steve presses their foreheads together hard enough to feel the wrinkle in between Steve’s brow, “we’re long past that, baby.” 

Eddie laughs a watery, startled sound from deep inside of him, stale around the edges but true in nature just like the rest of it. 

“‘Till afterdeath,” he grins, the slip of tears down his cheeks transferring onto Steve’s when he kisses the corner of his mouth, nuzzling in so, impossibly close.

» sequel fic to METAMORPHOSES  » rated E | 7.9k words | steddie

read 'TILL AFTERDEATH on ao3

[anitosoul]

My Favorite Albums of 2020

6. Helena Deland, Someone New

Favorite Tracks: Someone New | Comfort, Edge | Dog

Every year, there’s an album from an artist that I hadn’t previously listened to that totally takes me by surprise and becomes one of my favorite albums of the year. In 2018 that was Tierra Whack; in 2019 it was Sasami. In 2020, it’s Helena Deland. The only other time I had heard of her was her feature on JPEGMAFIA’s “Free the Frail,” one of my favorite songs from last year. When I decided to give this album a cursory listen, I was floored by the first track and knew that it would quickly become one of my favorites of the year. In Someone New, Deland explores the murkiness and ambiguity of contemporary 20-something relationships. It’s easy to minimize modern dating into tweet-worthy zeitgeist-y concepts (cuffing season, the difference between talking vs. dating, the idea of getting ghosted or haunted or whatever, etc.), but it’s a lot harder to talk about those relationships with nuance.

Someone New is an album about these nuances: a face tensing up, someone’s fingertips moving over yours, eye contact with a stranger. It’s dark, subtle and thoughtful, but never boring. Throughout the album, Deland uses steady but understated percussion to drive the album’s songs as slice-of-contemporary-young-adult-life vignettes. Someone New is a breakup album but not in the traditional sense; it’s the aftermath, the numbing quest to replace the lost fulfillment from another. The title and opening track of the album sets the scene, Deland seeking to emulate the feeling of a lost love through a hookup. The song isn’t about pining for an ex or the emptiness of the new hookup, though—the song, and album, is ultimately about finding herself by using these different relationships as a mirror.

If I could have every thought As though for the first time I’d never get sick of The patterns of my mind But I am stuck I am stuck

If things go my way I’ll stay in this room Where tonight I want to lay Kissing someone new With a familiar face I can’t replace

Because remembering, no It hasn’t been enough It’s like a partial glow A bright flower gives off At night Color imprecise - Helena Deland, "Someone New"

In an era of dating apps, easy mobility, and career pressures, decision fatigue is everywhere. Where will I even be living in a year? Are we talking, dating, exclusive, in a relationship? How am I supposed to focus on a serious partner when I’m supposed to focus on my career? Is it possible to ever feel satisfied in a partner when someone better may be a swipe away? Is the idea of marriage a romanticized, antiquated tradition or is my generation just afraid of commitment?

Modern dating can be defined by undefinition, and perhaps it’s because we’re all just using each other to try to figure ourselves out. This idea is explored on “Dog,” a track reminiscent sonically of The Strokes’ Comedown Machine and lyrically of Soccer Mommy’s “Your Dog,” which coincidentally enough are the two artists sandwiching Deland on this list:

Pleasure pleases better When it comes from every side But there’s nowhere left to run No, there is nowhere to hide You wave and cheer Never-ending will to charm Then you shed a single tear You never meant any harm Lying on your bed You said you gave all you could give Ask me to come over And give you reasons to live

Bright wave I will let you get away Hey, I will forgive And I will let you get away

With every little thing that you want to do It might not be you for me but it is me for you When you ask me, “Dear Who’s the fairest one of all?” But who gets to be your mirror If I’m the nail on the wall? I hate to be your dog But I could use the company To go out with on walks Baby, let it be me - Helena Deland, “Dog”

Here Deland explores the difference between intention and action, expressing the different ways they’re each using each other for validation. Ultimately she paints a picture of a relationship where both parties are using the connection to self-serve their own insecurities, a predicament that many of us can find ourselves in at any level of seriousness in dating. Is there really much of a difference between seeking emotional validation through a string of casual hookups and emotional validation through an unhappy long-term relationship? Deland acknowledges this ambiguity in standout track “Comfort, Edge”:

Give me comfort, give me edge Make it easy, make me beg Let me come for calm and peace Never stop surprising me

I see your face in the mirror As it puts on the expression It only has in reflections And I know I’m scared of going further Into what you choose to show me A trail of hints I can’t see: You’ll fuck me over - Helena Deland, “Comfort, Edge”

On Someone New, Deland never directly asks any of these questions but frames them in a way that represents the consequences of latching on to the spark that another person can provide; she carefully contemplates the thin line between loving the person behind the spark or loving the spark itself. This album pushed me to look at the way I was seeking romantic connection and consider where I was drawing that line in my own dating life, a task much more difficult than it sounds. At its heart, Someone New is an album that quietly reminds us that we all want someone to love us—but not everyone has the courage to admit that they need to love themselves first.

[mouthfulloftoothpasterry]

Hiiii so whenever you're doing concepts, ik you did one the other day about 70s!yn dealing with her mom but what about one day she's taking it hard like it gets to her since she's been bottling it up and she finally let's go and Harry's there for her and he just takes care of her and she's happy that she knows she chose a man who's gonna be such a good dad

I'm having an episode of daddy issues today so 😔

- 🍓

Y/n has had a hard day. Yesterday she had taken the trip to drop the kids off for a day with their grandparents and ended up getting in a big argument with her father about Harry. It’s a normal things every time they visit one another but this time it was big. She took the kids back and came right back home. She wasn’t gonna leave her kids there.

She didn’t tell Harry or make a fuss about it, she just made an excuse and said that the twins weren’t feeling like staying with them after all.

Currently, Y/n is resting in the living room while the kids play, watching over them while Harry makes lunch for them. She sighs and walks into the kitchen, finding harry slicing grapes in only wide leg, brown corduroy pants.

“Where are your clothes?” She asks, wrapping her arms around around him and laying her head on his chest, closing her eyes and relaxing. Harry lifts him arm up to glance down at her before wrapping her in a one armed hug. “What’s all this about?” He slurs, a mouthful of purple grapes.

Y/n shrugs, “Nothing, I just miss you.” Harry feels his heart jump at that, kissing her head. “What’s gotten into you, Firefly?” His hand slides up to the back of her neck and softly massages. She shakes her head. “Nothing.”

“I love you.” He sings, making the kids plates and moving to place them on the dining room table, shuffling with his wife while she stays clung to him. “I love you more.”

“C’mon babies, lunch time.” Harry says, waving them over to the table. Harry shakes his head, popping a grape in his mouth. “Don’t start with me now, you know I love you more.”

She shakes her head again, rubbing over her face. “Come with me, lovebird. Let’s talk.” He pulls her back in the kitchen and holds her close to him, her chin resting in his chest while she looks up to him. “Tell me what’s going on, firefly.” He hums, leaning down to press his lips to hers, his arms linked together and settled just above her bum.

Y/n eyes start watering, rolling her eyes at herself and wiping the tears.

“I’m just….” She breathes, sniffing and wiping her tears again. “I can’t even take the babies over to visit my parents without getting in a fight- and I just- I just wish it was easier and everything wasn’t so…hard with them.” Harry nods and lifts an arm to delicately wipe her tears off of her puffy cheeks.

“Don’t cry, lovebird. No tears, okay? I’m sorry you still have to deal with that. They have their good and bad moments- but they really don’t need to approve of us or not. We’ve got two beautiful- and cheeky babies together, and have a stronger marriage than anyone I know. Stop stressing over them, my firefly. They don’t need to be apart of our life if they don’t respect us. And I know you want them to be, but you’re always happier when you aren’t talking to them because you aren’t stressed.”

Y/n nods, thanking him. “I love you. You always know what to say.” Harry smiles, pressing a little kiss to her nose to watch it scrunch up.

“Now stop those tears, firefly. Don’t wanna see those unless you’re under me.” He teases, giving a soft smack to her bum before handing her her plate.

IM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO RESPOND I KEPT FORGETTINF

[aylinaliens]

what are your top 5 underrated drama?

Someday or One Day (Taiwanese): this drama was a literal masterpiece and it physically pains me that it’s not more well known. this drama has a perfect mixture of mystery/comedy/romance/angst and the cinematography/OST is phenomenal. i can’t go into the plot without giving away spoilers but ugh!! it’s so good. p.s. SDOOD also is getting a movie sequel/prequel AND it’s getting a Korean adaptation so...this might not be that underrated but it is in comparison to other dramas

Lovely Us (Chinese): oh gosh, Lovely Us is such a lovely little slice-of-life drama that deserves so much attention because of how wonderful it is. every single character is lovable, the romance is *chefs kiss* (slowburn childhood best friends to lovers is my favorite thing ever) and this is absolutely no unnecessary drama going on. this is my go to comfort drama to watch whenever i’m sad and in need of cheering up. plus it’s only 16 eps so it makes for a really great binge watch

The Best of You In My Mind (Chinese): this drama is very cliche but it makes me feel so happy and warm inside. slowburn childhood best friends to enemies to lovers is my weakness so as soon as I heard the premise for this drama I jumped into it. Like I said, it’s pretty cliche but the lovable characters make up for it. the romance between the leads was hilarious, wholesome, and healthy which is always a plus and this has one of the most satisfactory endings out there!

I Don’t Want To Be Friends With You (Chinese): this drama has literally everything i love. time traveling! slice-of-life! slowburn friends to lovers! tragical romance! second male leads who deserves better! complex mother-daughter relationships! ah, this drama was wonderful and heartwarming and probably my third favorite Chinese drama of all time (the first is Go Ahead and the second is The Untamed). it’s been like a month since i watched this but i still can’t get over it.

Voice in the Rain (Thai): i just started this a few days ago and i’m already so in love with it. i don’t hear many people talking about this but it’s so good!! i spend every single episode speechless because the FL, Rin, is breathtakingly beautiful (as is the ML so in all their scenes i’m just sitting there like “hand in marriage ma’am and sir). the concept is really cool too and even though i have yet to finish this i’m already putting it on this list.

[wild-aloof-rebel]

Some Favorite Fics from 2020

Like last year, I want to end 2020 by highlighting some fics that have become favorites over the last twelve months. Before I dive into it though, I just want to take a minute to send some love to all of the authors writing in this fandom.

As of the end of 2019, there were about 8.8 million words of fic on AO3 for this fandom. This year, more than 450 authors have added another 15 million more. That’s so incredibly impressive, especially in a year this difficult. Thank you, thank you, thank you to every single person who contributed to that, whether you wrote one fic or a hundred, a drabble or a novel. Thank you for giving this fandom the gift of your creativity and voice. Your work is so, so appreciated, and you’ve helped to create joy in a year where it was often in short supply. 💗💗💗

*

Okay, on to the fics. I’ve limited myself to no more than one work for any individual author to spread the love around as much as possible, and I’ve bumped up the number to 25 this time around because there was just too much fic this year for me to cut it down any further. 

So here we go. These are 25 fics I loved this year, and what I love about them...

Your heart is keeping time with me by yourbuttervoicedbeau • rated E • 33k+ confession before i start: i’ve never actually seen 50 first dates. but i thought this AU based on it was delightful. patrick’s love for david is so big, right from the start, and i love seeing david lean into trusting himself (and patrick) over and over again

will this ever get old? by startswithhope • rated T • <1k i just like seeing them domestic and soft and happy, okay? and while most of dee’s fics are like that, this particular one is a fave because of them thinking about their future and how they’ll change over the years but love each other right on through

Just to Hold the Hands I Love by DesignatedGrape • rated T • 20k+ it’s like a warm christmas hug, full of musical trolling, gentle pining, domestic nights in, and careful attention to fashion details, which are all absolutely the kinds of things i appreciate

A Case of You by DoubleL27 • rated T • 6k+ patrick is an absolute menace in exactly the way you would expect every valentine’s day. it’s funny and sweet and ends with them in exactly the kind of future we all want for them

Dulce by another_Hero • rated T • 1k+ original characters can be hard to do right. they have to be compelling enough to fit in with these characters we already know so well, and dulce is the kind of character who grabs you from the start. the whole series is lovely, but this first interaction with ronnie is my favorite of them

Tea-Kettle Love by ArabellaStrange • rated G • 5k+ even though this coda to “the pitch” isn’t technically canon compliant now, it still feels a lot like it is. it’s about the sacrifices we are and aren’t willing to make for the people we love, taking the new york discussion into more depth than we get in the show and still arriving in largely the same place

Vanquished by Codswallop • rated G • 3k+ if you’re looking for soft, fluffy sickfic, this is not it, lol. patrick is sick here but won’t let anyone take care of him. he’s stubborn and basically minor chaos ensues. it’s funny and sweet but not schmaltzy. the characterization is 👌, and it feels like the kind of thing that fits perfectly into the world of the show

To Come Out the Other Side by unfolded73 • rated T • 4k+ • warning for major character death i don’t want to read sad things about david and patrick very often, but sometimes the mood strikes. this one is definitely sad right from the start, but there’s hope and resilience through grief, and i think this year especially, there’s something to be said for stories that can make you feel like there is still good to be found after the bad

Hold Me Like You’ll Never Let Me Go by moodlighting • rated T • 21k+ i never would have thought that a fic would make me WANT to be trapped in an airport, but it’s 2020 and anything is possible, lol. this is what meet cute dreams are made of

Your mother keeps a spreadsheet by upbeat • rated G • 3k+ obviously i love a good spreadsheet, so this one was up my alley from the start, lol. but really it’s moira and patrick bonding through the cataloguing of her wigs (and all the stories that go with them) that makes this one an easy favorite

keep me in the pulses, keep me in the sound by dinnfameron • rated G • 2k+ this sweet little slice of a summer vacation made me ache to be with friends. plus, sometimes you just need some overwhelmingly happy david rose. he deserves it, and so do we

eggs and the flour, no higher power by withkissesfour • rated T • 1k+ i’m pretty sure this fic is the definition of sweet, in more ways than one. it’s a short piece, but the writing is lush and indulgent in all the right places, just like the cakes being described

sustineo by rockinhamburger • rated E • 10k+ before i was even done reading this fic, i wanted another 50k words set in this universe. the conversation between david and patrick is sharp in all the right ways, and because this david has such a hard shell to crack after being hurt in such a horrible and heartbreaking way, it’s that much more satisfying watching patrick break through it

All-Natural Care, Locally Sourced by Siria • rated T • 2k+ siria’s fics are always funny, with banter that’s so perfectly on point, and that’s certainly true here. but there are also care packages and photos and just so much love. it’s a perfect balance, just like the show

hold on to me as you go by helvetica_upstart • rated T • 3k+ i love a good look at just how long patrick has been head over heels in love with david and how much he was in this for life all along. this fic does just that through the framework of times that they saw their new house before they bought it, and it’s everything that you would want that concept to be and more

Exposed Brick by swat117 • rated M • 9k+ this is such a lovely look at david and patrick a few years into their marriage, steady in all the right ways, even when old fears try to rise up between them. it gives david a chance to be the solid and supportive one in the relationship, something i never get tired of reading

We Could Turn the World to Gold by middyblue • rated T • 27k+ as someone who also did c25k at one point, i def empathize with david’s plight in this fic, lol. as much fun as that part of the story is, it’s really the house and everything related to that part of the story that makes this a favorite in my book. this was posted very early in s6, so it’s not the house from canon, but it’s beautiful either way to see them so excited about building their future together there

Waiting on the Day by High-Seas-Swan • rated E • 22k+ this is another fic that makes me absolutely ache for things i couldn’t have this year, namely my favorite local brewery and all the nights spent there with friends. beyond that, it’s just a very sweet AU, and the scene with their first kiss and the rest of that night live in my head rent free

Pot o’ Gold by ahurston • rated E • 22k+ where is the leprechaun/love of my life who’s gonna take me out to eat all of the best foods that my city has to offer? this one is a slow burn but their relationship is so much fun to read right from the start that you definitely don’t mind taking your time getting there. also, the palm reading scene. good grief.

there is no design by the_hodag • rated T • 12k+ this fic gives us a look at some of david’s art, and all the loneliness and love that inspires it. it’s poignant and painful and hopeful and sweet in turn, and i think it does a marvelous job of capturing so many of the facets of david’s past that have made him who he is

A Little Broken, A Little New by nameless_bliss • rated G • 3k+ i’ve read this fic several times now, and david and johnny having a conversation about their own relationship through the guise of talking about patrick and his parents never fails to make me cry

Une très bonne table dans sa catégorie by cromarty • rated T • 23k+ just the concept of this one alone would have sold me on it—like, hello? michelin reviewer and chef? sign me the fuck up—but it’s written with the kind of attention to detail i always expect from claire’s writing, and the fact that it practically starts with a first kiss but then pulls back makes for a delicious dynamic as they build a friendship over that foundational attraction, both tempering and intensifying the wait for them to find their way back into each others’ arms

happy golden days of yore by blueink3 • rated E • 17k+ i literally stopped in the middle of this fic, sat down on my kitchen floor, and had a good cry. i hate thinking about them ending up divorced in the first place, but even as exes, they’re so careful and gentle with one another and so, so clearly still in a forever kind of love. that makes it bearable to see them apart because even if it weren’t tagged for a happy ending, there’s such a feeling of inevitability to it, you know exactly how it’s going to end and just get to enjoy the devastating ride it takes to get there

Fifteen Hundred Miles by MoreHuman • rated M • 30k+ this is one of those fics where everything comes together just right and achieves a perfect balance of introspection and action, courage and fear, despair and hope, forthright honesty and cautious reservation... MoreHuman makes it all look easy, which says so much about all the care that had to have gone into the planning and writing. this fic does everything well, and it’s an absolute pleasure to read from start to end

840 Havenwood Road E by Distractivate • rated E • 10k+ we barely see david and patrick’s new house in the show, so it shouldn’t be possible for me to be as emotional about it as this fic makes me, every single time i read it. but it’s the home they chose, the place they decided to build a life together, and getting to see flashes of that life through the years and how much love they clearly had for each other within those four walls just makes me cry again and again

[rumtumfucker]

My Cats Fanfic AU/Headcanons

I'm currently working on a cats fanfic au, of which you may remember from this post, so I thought I'd come on and explain some of the thoughts behind this au! Since it's not too obvious from that one clip and I really like talking about this au hehe.

For the basics, this is a human au (I'm too much of a coward to write cats kissing) , and set around 15 years after the plot we see in the Jellicle Ball of the musical, I refuse to acknowledge the impact this will have on old deut and the other oldies. (You cannot force me to write this but it could be interesting?? Maybe??)

This means that Rum Tum Tugger, Munkustrap and Mistoffelees are all around their late 30's, kittens like Pouncival, Victoria and Electra are in their late 20's-early 30's (I don't have a clear time frame for them just yet but in human years I imagine them being around 16-19 for the Stageplay.) I am also focusing on a light-hearted, slice-of-life tone so please don't worry about any dark themes surrounding the aging cast.

This also means lots of new kittens!! I'm not very good with creating ocs, but I plan to have a good mix of kitten ocs and existing characters. In this au, all of the characters live close to each other/in the same town! Currently unclear, but they do all interact quite often.

Ship Shenanigans!

One of the fun parts of this concept is I get the chance to explore the character dynamics of Cats in a human context, but also with the knowledge of these characters knowing each other for many years. As such, there's plenty of ship/marriage content! I'll explain some of the ships/families I have planned out so far:

- Tugger and Mistoffelees have been married for around 10 years and they have 2 kids (I wanted to include the 7 kids I really did but it got very difficult to write quite quickly), Tugger is currently a music artist/producer and loves to strum little songs for Mistoffelees. Speaking of Mistoff, he's in a little bit of a worse position. After years of being a successful stage magician, he's found less and less success and money in the profession, and nowadays mostly spend his working time at children's parties showing off magic tricks. As rewarding as seeing their faces light up is, he can't help but feel he's letting himself down, seeing his past. (THIS IS THE PLOT OF THE CURRENT IN WORK CHAPTER BTW) Tugger is definitely more of the family man, but both of them love adventure and spontaneity, so their time together is not often boring. Factoring in the kids, they both live happy and fulfilling lives with each other. God I love their dynamic.

- Munkustrap and Demeter live much more structured lives than their brother/in-law respectively and his husband. I don't have clear jobs for them yet, office work seems plausible for both but I could totally see Munkustrap being the local child-minder also. Looking after kids is his talent after all. Demeter was never one for kids really so they never ended up having any themselves, but Munkustrap ends up spoiling his niece and nephew as if they're his own. As the woman of the Family, Demeter has also been given the job of helping out Tugger and Mistoff's daughter where possible. Demeter and Tugger also have a close relationship outside of being in-laws. Tugger is a very good listener and great at giving advice, more so than his more logical brother, Tugger excels in helping his friends talk out their frustrations, and that's exactly what Demeter has needed often in her life. This goes for most of the Jellicles also, but Demeter and Tugger turned out to have a very similar sense of humour, strangely enough. Mistoffelees and Munkustrap often enjoy ganging up on Tugger together, but Tugger isn't one to hold a grudge over something silly.

- Bombalurina has remained single throughout the years, she never did find the perfect person, but she doesn't mind because she has a fulfilling social life. Her, Tugger and Demeter are exceptionally close, in duos or all together. I don't have too much planned on her yet? But I would like to write a chapter around one of her errand days, involving brunch with Tugger and grabbing a coffee with Demeter, I may also draw some parallels to Grizabella in her aged up? Since in the musical Bomba was supposed to represent everything that Griz had lost. It's something to think about at least!

-In truth, I haven't really thought about characters like Alonzo, Plato, Cassandra, Pouncival etc. Although I would love to explore as many characters as possible within their own chapters. I'm also trying to stop using a character's relationship to Tugger as an anchor point but what can I say, he's a socialite!

- I would like to explore Macavity also, but I don't have a clear idea of him. I imagine he's in his early 40s, the idea I had was somebody, perhaps mungo or rumps, visiting him while he is in jail? Or maybe a new, younger cat who he is training as a criminal? Like a mentor trope but they're thieves. I made that on the spot while writing this but wow, I wanna use that now.

That's everything I have planned for this au/fanfic so far! I'm very excited to start releasing it but I'm such a slow writer 💀

Thank you for reading! Whew, that was long!

[cloveroctobers]

ANNA-JULIA “AJ” (JONES) JARLETT

IG bio/info: @/annajj9x_ | 20.1k followers| Athlete | hey peeps can you stop asking me to throw it back cuz the answer will always be no! K thx take it easy 🏳️‍🌈🌻🏒🐶

21 years old

From bath, England

Hockey player as her profession for the past three years

Her position is defense

Their team name is “rowdy alphas”...yeah some team names just didn’t make sense or they’re cringe for no reason at all

Was raised by her mom,(her mom was a teen mom & had her at 17) maternal grandmother, and her paternal aunt (dad’s younger sister, who’s more like a big sister to her at 28)

They’ve made her into the person she is, literally

Her grandmother has a bed and breakfast that they all live in

the house is Victorian style—almost as if they walked right out of charmed! Instead of a big pink house, think yellow AND purple. It was hideous but homey and charming on the inside

growing up in a house with multiple temporary strangers wasn’t odd to aj at all, in fact it felt like the norm. There was always someone around to socialize with so that was quite nice

Her father was a pro baseball player & passed away due to a automobile accident

she has his smile & freckles

aj was also involved in the accident at the age of 6 & miraculously survived with intense injuries

Has scars as a reminder

used to have night terrors because of the accident...it took awhile—years!!! for them to subside

they’re all vague memories now (but the pain is something she’ll always remember) but she preferred it that way

she’s named “Anna” after her mother’s old best friend/roommate and was supposed to be aj’s god mother but she went missing during their uni years

the name“Julia” came from her paternal grandmother who she gets her wide doe eyes from

her athleticism definitely came from her dad

Her mother luckily liked to document things so there’s a bunch of home videos of her dad in them & pictures/scrapbooks that her mom has for safe keeping

She’s more of a klutz, tiny, and wears huge prescription glasses

extremely close to the three most important ladies in her life, so she’s always been able to be open with them about anything!

when she first expressed her interest in liking both genders around 17-18 her paternal aunt was all smirks, “i knew Britney Spears was so your type, yeah?”

more like shakira but Brit was just as pretty

her mother was a “cry baby” so ofc she burst out into tears squeezing aj’s limbs and peppering her face with kisses. She didn’t view her child as anything different... as she shouldn’t & was glad that her daughter trusted them with this significant moment in her life and wanted to be as supportive as she could

got books, watched Ted talks and everything but knew she could come to the source even tho aj was still figuring it out herself

her grandma dipped her head at the new info sitting at the round kitchen table, “been there. had a few broads in my life after and during my marriage with your no good grandad. Thank goodness the bastard died before you even got to meet ‘em.” “Mum!”

what felt like the biggest weight on her chest was lifted. She knew they’d understand but a part of her had a little bit of doubt, she’s heard so many horror stories where those like her didn’t have the support she has and that made her extremely sad to think about

i see her as a person that has/had many friends in secondary. She’s always open to chat and her being on a few sports teams helped her out in her case

very competitive in anything that she does & will guarantee that she’ll beat you. (“ You wanna race to the car from here?”wins. “Who ever cleans the most dishes the fastest gets the last slice of pie.”) majority of the time she’s right but if she loses?? oh don’t let her lose to you, it’s a pity party for the rest of the time ur in her space. Such a sore loser omg

stays active, always working out + has a gym membership and makes sure she goes at least five times a week

she’s very strong, loves leg day & working on her core

she’s about 5’10

loves wearing “gf jeans” since they’re super comfy but doesn’t mind skinny Jeans with rips in the knees every now and then

trainers and chucks are her go-to sneakers

has no issue shopping in the men’s section ‘cause who’s gonna stop her? Nobody that’s who

owner of over a 100 graphic tees + vertical stripped shirts are also her favs, SWEATPANTS/joggers?! How many does she have? A lot. Snapbacks? Plenty. Will she wear them backwards? Obviously.

Physical touch is her love language. She’s comes from a family that has no issue showing their affection by touch. There is NO such thing as personal space and that still stands with aj when it comes to relationships, she sees no other way

It’s what she shows and what she wants in return, if you’re not touching her in some sort of way, then automatically she thinks there’s something wrong or that she did something

Is the jealous type. It has shown in relationships and ruined a relationship or two

Has cheated on a significant other out of pure jealousy & is not proud to admit that

Does have a wandering eye but feels now that she truly understands herself when it comes to relationships, she’ll never act on it again

I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again, I get libra tendencies from her so that’s what I’m sticking with. She likes to keep the peace (unless she’s jealous) , idealistic — always looking on the bright side of things, outgoing, romantic, and professional— especially when it comes to her team; her true leadership comes out, yet she can be indecisive, hates confrontation, self pitying — if things don’t go perfectly how she imagined/planned it to, the world is ending and everyone is out to get her, and can be unreliable—never on time

September libra to be exact

if she’s really in love/taken a interest in you then she gets nervous: blushing, sweaty palms, cracking her knuckles, tongue tied—the whole 9

she’s already defined as a puppy by her coach but when she’s in love? She’s a lovesick puppy!

her fav holiday is Valentine’s Day

thought she was going to be a pro skateboarder growing up but it took one bad fall where she thought she was paralyzed for her to choose something else

she likes her weed on occasion

Obsessed with all types of cheese except cottage, “can I put cheese on this?”

more of a jumpsuit kinda girl or dressy top with jeans & hoops on a night out

has a solid group of mates outside of the hockey team, they’ve all met and hung out a couple of times, as they should since aj feels they’re going to be stuck with her for awhile so why not?

They’re a riot when they all go out, let’s just say that there’s never a dull moment

fav color is periwinkle

enjoys ASMR, mostly in the mornings when she’s waking up. You know how people love podcasts? (Sorry seb & Nicky, she still wants to be on the show soon!) ASMR is her thing

loves tangerines, you can count on it that she’ll have one on her, “where did you pull that from?” “I’ll never share my master plan.” “You’re such a tit.”

Definitely prefers “fresh squeezed” orange juice & will make her own, she has the tools & the strength 😏

Very rare for her to get sick ;) & if she does she’s a complete baby about it

Will fight that she’s sick before she admits it, trying all sorts of horrid remedies & vitamins

loves summer & all things that come with it, the number one thing is leaving bath for however long she can for a new place to enjoy

when she arrived to love island, she was thrilled for the weather. Yes she was looking for love but most importantly a nice get away & that it was (depending on your route that is lol)

closest with seb, vieve, elladine, and tai but don’t tell the others that! (She doesn’t care if you tell Yasmin, honestly)

just because her & seb “dated” and it didn’t work out doesn’t mean they can’t be friends right? It was almost automatic for them to be platonic after it was determined there would be no romance between them, almost like sibs! like those celebs like to say—except this time these two won’t turn around and actually find romance

vieve came with seb so...but no shade aj did like vieve. She gave great advice (while seb sometimes didn’t say the right things unintentionally or what aj needed to hear) when needed, especially from a medical view and is very sweet

elladine was the one who had all the tea & ideas to match, she’s quite organized and always down for DIY’s and could suggest almost anything. If you needed someone to help you get things tidy or match/find your Aesthetic, she’s the friend you call to help

tai was the one she could be a “bro” with, sure elladine has her competive side (or controlling, depends on how you view it) but tai was the one you can run to for much needed “bro hugs”, partying, going to the pubs, playing sports with or against, checking out/flirting with babes, etc...

it was not long after the villa that aj had a revelation with her sexuality & fully owned and labeled herself as a lesbian

She was happy being in relationship with someone else or with herself, life was short and she was young so there wasn’t time to dwell and stress over things so what the hell?! Live your truth the best way you know how ya know?

probably smells like sweet citrus, almond flower, and sea salt

on chest days, she’s a sweets snacker. Loves gummy bears (also with vodka) , swedish fish, sour patch kids, etc...basically shit that sticks to ur teeth

put all her chips into hockey, while it was advised by her Counselors & mum not to do so, aj went about it anyway. She thought about the pros and cons but knew there was nothing else for her. So there were more pros than cons. She was meant to play sports, its what felt right in her soul

Made her feel connected to her father, when she’s on the field she feels that he is with her

 scrunches up her nose when she’s frustrated or confused about something

Doesn’t always grasp concepts right away, she’s a soft dummy but most of us are and that’s okay! We’re all smart in our own ways

Feels like sunflowers are always around her especially if she sees them wherever she is. They must symbolize SOMETHING, therefore she loves them

spf queen. All about it, get with it or let the sunrays ruin ur skin that’s on u

loves a good filet mignon medium-well & is probably the only good thing she knows how to make alongside a salad, baked potatoes, & her oj

sucker for romantic-comedies...it’s basically her life duh!

If she has a dog, it’s a Dalmatian or Great Dane. She needs a companion that’ll keep up with her

loves kissing, it’s her favorite form of intimacy

Quarantine life included the push up challenge for her. Gaining a few pounds in muscle and fat, bothering seb via ft, viewing old letters she wrote to her dad, spending time with her fav ladies since they were now restricted from having guests in their home, and letting boredom consume her + she hated the whole lockdown that came with it, she hated being indoors for long periods of time but she knew that’s what partly needed to be done

Posts a lot of beach, park, outings with her friends & team, moments with her fav ladies, workout videos, and guests at the b&b with their permission and if only she befriends them along the way. She’s just as active on the socials as she is in rl but she’s not obsessed with it, she knows how to live in the now. She’s all about balance!

I also feel like she never keeps her phone charged and it’s always dying on her! She had a car charger but...that’s a jungle. She needs to invest in a portable charger stat

crushing on/finds attractive: Jared Padalecki, Keanu Reeves, Barrett Doss, Camilla Luddington, Sandra Bullock, Adrian Kempe, Harry Kirton, Anya Taylor-Joy, Haley Lu Richardson, Naomi Osaka, Ming & Aoki Lee Simmons

who does she listen to? Shakira lol!! Bea Miller, Dua Lipa, Daya, XYLØ, Elley Duhé, Stela Cole, Aloe Blacc, Maroon 5, Lewis capaldi, Charlie Puth, girl in red, Hayley kiyoko, king princess, dodie, & tessa violet

Anthem: Icona Pop — we got the world

[bettsfic]

february pinned: the real & the ideal

in this month’s edition of my lowkey writing-related newsletter, in addition to my writing-related post roundup and consultation availability, i have short story recommendations for you and an essay on the nature of reality in fiction! 

if you want to receive my lowkey writing-related newsletter directly, you can subscribe here.

in other news, i finished two fics this month:

digging for orchids (hualian, 43k, explicit, fake marriage au)

let ruin end here (hualian, 8k, mature, neighbors au)

full newsletter below the cut, or you can read it here.

oof,

what a month. january is already a rough time. throwing in a pandemic, a coup, and an economic revolution spearheaded by reddit just seems unfair. as for me personally, the spring semester came at me fast and even though it’s only week 2, i am already buried in grading. which i realize is my fault, considering i’m the one who assigned homework.

so after hearing your feedback, i thought i’d make this newsletter even more writing-related by writing more about writing. this month i’ll start off by talking about the nature of reality in fiction in a segment i call “been thinkin a lot about.” more on that below.

new resource

i’ve compiled a folder of PDFs of the short stories i teach most often, which is to say, the stories i like enough to re-read every semester. most of them are literary fiction but a few veer into fantasy, sci fi, and horror.

i know before the MFA, i didn’t really know what a short story was. like i knew, abstractly, the concept of a short story (it is as it sounds), but i could only list a couple i’d ever read as an adult, and i hadn’t read anything that had been published in the last decade. i remember wondering why i was even being asked to care about short stories. who writes short stories? who reads them? apparently, a lot of people. short storyists are a lot like fanwriters in that they make no money and when you talk about your writing in public, people give you that “why would anyone waste their time with that?” look.

so here’s why i was asked to care about short stories: a good short story gives you the entirety of a world in a very condensed space. moreover, it can sometimes leave you as satisfied as a novel in a fraction of the reading time. all the stories i’ve compiled here are ones that stuck with me, that i find myself recommending over and over to writers who want a good example of developing character, or weird narration, or establishing stakes.

if you’re a writer considering publication or an MFA in creative writing, i highly recommend familiarizing yourself with short stories, if for no other reason than to get the feel for them so you can write some of your own. if you can get a few short story publications under your belt, it’ll be easier to open doors when you’re ready to query agents for a novel. also, short stories make a great writing sample for grad programs, workshops, fellowships, residencies, and grant funding.

if you want to check out more short stories but have no idea where to start, the 2020 best american short stories just dropped in november, or if you want a cheaper one, used copies of 2019 and earlier are available on thriftbooks. if you want an overview of the history of the (american) short story, there’s also the best american short stories of the century. fair warning, though, while it’s more diverse than expected, it’s still a bit heavy on dead-white-dude writing.

content warning: the stories in the above-linked folder may depict instances of sexual assault, suicide, and/or abuse. i have not labeled them individually with warnings but i hope to soon, as well as provide a catalog with summaries.

i’m also still working on my essay and novel recs. more to come on that hopefully next month.

writing-related posts

how i quit my banking job to do a creative writing MFA

how i learned to read faster/stop subvocalizing

how to write when you have no time or energy to write

my experience writing fic in small/dead fandoms (aka fics that will probably not get any traffic)

how to describe facial expressions

how to ask for help from your professors

how to navigate tenses during flashbacks

how to separate yourself from your work

how (and why you might want to) write a shitty first draft

why you should consider making the climax the inciting incident

for a complete list of my writing-related posts, check out this masterdoc (which i still need to update it with the past few months’ posts).

stuff i’m into rn

i’m about halfway through the rhetoric of fiction by wayne c. booth which has more or less become my narrative bible. it’s a little dated (1961) but it tackles banal writing adages that are somehow still believed, like “show don’t tell” and whatnot, and breaks them down with amazing insight, clarity, and research. it’s a bit of a dense text so i’m only reading a few pages a day, i think the first time i’ve ever let myself read something so intentionally slowly. now i’m kind of obsessed with doing things slowly. reading slowly, writing slowly, cooking slowly. i even drive slowly, because it’s so rare to go anywhere at all, and i want to enjoy it. also, it’s very snowy where i am. also also, the battery died in my car this month and i really have to make it a point to drive more often.

february availability

i have 2 openings for initial writing consultations in february! if you’re interested, please fill out this google form.

you can learn more about my services on my carrd.

been thinkin a lot about

compulsory reality in fiction. many of us have probably received feedback along the lines of, or thought to ourselves as we read, “that’s not realistic.” many of us believe, consciously or not, that fiction that is more “realistic” is inherently better than fiction that is less “realistic.” for some of us, real means a saturation of details, the clear depiction of the surfaces of things. reality is found in the rendering thereof; if you can “see” it, it’s real. for others of us, it might be the development of complex characters and their growth across a narrative. and for yet others, reality is subtlety, or misery, or the idea of “slice of life,” a term i don’t think means anything, because aren’t all stories a slice of a character’s life? what would a story that’s not a slice of life look like? you’d either have to take away the “slice” part and render a whole life, which is impossible, or you’d have to take away the “life” part and create a dead story, which may be possible, but why would you want to? even if you wrote a story about a rock, the rock would be brought to life by virtue of being written about.

anyway. i think the word “real” is a shitty word for the same reason “slice of life” is a shitty phrase: everything is real and therefore nothing cannot be real. slices of life are all we know because we are alive and cannot truly perceive not being alive; reality is also all we know, and any depictions beyond reality are thus made real because they have been depicted.

so the “goal” for fiction to be “realistic” seems to me to be a false one. all fiction is real because it exists and no fiction can be truly real because it’s only a facsimile of reality. not to get all “this is not a pipe” but writing is just making squiggles, and we as a community of English-knowers agree that certain squiggles correspond to certain sounds, and certain sounds together make words which conjure meanings. and words put together into sentences into paragraphs conjure even more complicated meanings. and when those paragraphs are woven into narrative we create yet more and more complicated meaning.

every time you write anything — a text message, an email, a tweet, a fanfic — you are taking the infinite abstraction of your own cognition, narrowing it into a single concept, and representing that concept with patterns in the form of sounds represented by letters and given meaning with words, so that the infinite abstraction of your own conscience can be fractionally witnessed by the infinite abstraction of someone else’s. and even though we can’t definitively prove for ourselves that any other thing possesses a consciousness, writing shows us the shape of someone else’s mind, and tells us we are not alone.

and yet we still expect writing to be “real.”

have you ever read a story where a character sneezed? like just, a description of a sneeze for the sake of it, with no purpose or function in the plot? if not, is it because our characters aren’t real enough to sneeze, or because the sneeze isn’t relevant to their plight? what would a written sneeze look like, and why would somebody want to write it? moreover, why would somebody want to read it? that leads me to wonder, do we depict reality in the service of narrative, or narrative in the service of reality? in other words, do we write to portray reality (sans sneezing), or do we depict reality to constrain our writing, the way one might request bumpers when bowling so as not to fall in the gutters?

i’ve never read an artful rendition of a character pissing or shitting, either, even when those things are related to a character’s plight and circumstance — stories involving long road trips, living in the woods, being kidnapped. the only exception i can think of is when those things are eroticized (we do not kinkshame here in this lkwrnl), the same way it’s rare to find detailed sex writing that isn’t for the purpose of reader arousal. are there just some things about the nature of being human that are too intimate, too complex, or too boring to write?

once i wrote a murder that takes place in a small fictional midwestern town in the 90s (for the ~aesthetic), and it went uninvestigated by said town’s police force. early readers repeatedly commented along the lines of, “that’s not realistic.” and i thought, no, if anything, the incompetence of police is too realistic for the heightened reality i’m trying to render. have you ever heard of a cop solving a murder that didn’t come with an obvious suspect or immediately found evidence? i haven’t. that doesn’t mean those cases don’t exist, but i definitely think they’re less likely than mass media has us believe, and the average small-town police force has far less motivation (and possibly training) to solve crimes than we think.

i started working on the above-mentioned novel in 2016, and my goal was to depict a reality that hovers above the surface of plausibility. in this novel, which is based on macbeth, a preteen girl, mercy, becomes jealous of the love her best friend elisa shows to her father. mercy decides to get her older and very unstable brother to kill him. naturally the deed goes awry, but it does occur, and the cleanup is far messier than anticipated.

is it plausible for a 12 year old girl to plot and execute the murder of her best friend’s father? no. is that what this book is about? yes. a book about a 12 year old girl who has a perfectly healthy relationship with her best friend and who has no feelings toward her bff’s father one way or another is probably far more “realistic,” but that’s not the book i’d want to read and certainly not the one i want to write. my goal of a heightened reality is what henry james calls the intensity of illusion, the thing that allows a reader, through the witness of one’s distilled cognition into language, to exit physical, knowable reality, and enter a new and unknown reality. and isn’t climbing to that higher place, that intensity of illusion, the purpose of fiction? if it’s not, what is?

the best feedback i got on the aforementioned murder scene was from one of my professors, who, of the perfect calm of all children involved, said, “they just shot a guy. at least one of them would be freaking out.”

he was totally right, but it opened up a lot of questions for me. by what standard did he reach that conclusion? was it something in the chapter itself, was it his personal understanding of the work of narrative, or was it the logical conclusion of the slim plausibility of the scenario? moreover, where did i come up with the idea that all of my preteen characters would commit a murder and proceed to be very chill about it? if an implausible scenario begs the expectation of emotional distress, would it be more compelling to buy into that expectation or deviate from it? is it even my obligation to be compelling when i can never have a cogent grasp of the personal tastes of my audience?

that brings me to what appears to be reality’s opposite: idealism, the state those of us who write fanfic are often trying to achieve. we’re working in an entire genre of ideals, of happily ever afters, of hurt that is always followed by comfort, of glossily rendered sex during which everyone orgasms and no one has to pee afterward. we fix broken texts and continue incomplete ones. sometimes, we want to make existing things better, deeper, more complicated. but all the time, we want to make a text more than what it is.

some see this process, this drive for the ideal, as antithetical to realism, and i think that’s part of the reason fanfiction and other idealistic genres (romance, etc.) get a bad name — the assumption that more real (which for some means more miserable) is better, and therefore its opposite, the ideal, is worse. for them, i have this quote from vladimir nabokov:

For me a work of fiction exists only insofar as it affords me what I shall bluntly call aesthetic bliss, that is a sense of being somehow, somewhere, connected with other states of being where art (curiosity, tenderness, kindness, ecstasy) is the norm.

the ideal, aesthetic bliss, the intensity of illusion. these are all phrases that boil down to the same thing: you the writer get to define the constraints of your own reality. you get to choose if your world even complies with the known laws of physics. and if it doesn’t, you get to choose which ones to break, and why to break them. you get to choose if your stories take place in a real house in a real town on a real day. if you wrote a story that takes place on september 11, 2001, would the events of that story be shaped by the events of that actual day, or are you writing a better world where 9/11 doesn’t happen? consider the consequences of both: why might you want to write reality? why might you want to write ideality? how do these things shape your identity and goals as a writer?

no matter where a work falls on the real-ideal spectrum, you have to accept that prose itself will only ever be a verisimilitude of reality and therefore an interpretation of it, one that might be interpreted differently by a reader. in writing and everything else, you can never have complete control over what others perceive. it’s like giving someone cash as a gift. they might buy themselves something nice with it, or they might spend it on groceries. the point is, eventually we all have to let go of our realities.

[silentauroriamthereal]

2020 fic year in review

I was tagged by my lovely @khorazir! Thanks, you! 

Total number of completed stories: Three, but two of them were fairly long? I wrote: 

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse: John/Sherlock, 50,689 words, explicit, John POV. Set in New York, because I was itching to go there and couldn’t, and setting a fic somewhere is the next best thing. Probably my most political fic to date, this one was a deliberate reversal of the fake-couple-for-a-case trope, aka I wanted to create a setting wherein John and Sherlock become a couple during a case but need to keep it a secret for the sake of the case. So I set it at a massive, anti-gay conference in the US. Naturally. :P 

Sine Nomine: John/Sherlock, 45,626 words, explicit, mostly John POV with sections of Mycroft and Sherlock POV as well. In fact, though the sections aren’t equal in length, it’s symmetrical: it goes Mycroft POV/John POV/Sherlock POV/John POV/Mycroft POV. This story has a dark premise and a particularly dark setting for one section. It’s based on the concept of Mycroft rewatching the footage of John beating Sherlock in the morgue for the hundredth time or so and revisiting the question of whether John had been the making of his brother, or made him worse than ever. He’s definitely come to the latter conclusion, but decides to give John one final chance in the form of a test. John, for his own reasons, makes what Mycroft deems the incorrect choice, and Mycroft basically sends him into a death trap. The setting of this place is officially set in Serbia with indirect hints at events similar to the Srebrenica Genocide in Bosnia, but the actual setting is Syria, which I’ve just spent the past year studying intensely. Putting a slice of that into the dark core of this story, albeit disguised as another place, was strangely cathartic for me. The title, which is Latin for “no name”, is a double reference to the village here, which Sherlock and Mycroft never name, ominously referring to it only as “the village”, both to each other and to John, as well as John’s never-named or owned feelings for Sherlock. This one is close to my heart for a lot of reasons, but most of all because of Syria. Also, the vast majority of the time in my writing, I choose a singular POV and stick to it very closely for the entire story. Choosing to rotate between these three men essentially allowed me to show how they’re all justified in their own decisions here, and to examine the relationships between all three of them. It’s a story about reckonings and eventual, hard-won reconciliations. 

The Secret of Hazel Grange. Sherlock/John, 18,181 words, explicit, Sherlock POV. I’m going to claim that the reason I only managed to swing three fics this entire year is partly that I put another project on hold in order to write this one, lol. This is the third Christmas fic I’ve written and I’m happy with how it came out. It’s also the only story I’ve written that’s explicitly set during this pandemic, and during the second London lockdown, which is eerily similar to the code red lockdown my own city is in, so it just felt right. It’s been a somewhat miserable holiday season for me (so many reasons, including unhappiness at work and an illegally high rent increase that my apartment building is putting through, on top of the pandemic and all of that isolation and all of those cancellations), so writing some happy endings for someone else was pure escapism for me. Hopeful for others, too! 

Total word count: 114,496 words of posted fic. 130,796 if we’re counting my work-in-progress that got interrupted for the Christmas fic. :)

Fandoms written in: BBC Sherlock.

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d expected? I wrote about what I thought I expected to be able to write. Right now, I have a full-time job, a part-time job, and then freelance work, all to attempt to make ends meet, so I have very little spare time to write in, unfortunately. So getting over 100k words in is actually somewhat miraculous to me. It feels like not very much when it’s just three stories, but I guess it still amounts to a fair number of words? 

What’s  your own favourite story of the year? Picking favourites is always tough, but for the Syria connection, I’d have to go with Sine Nomine. 

Did you take any writing risks this year? I suppose that going so hard on the whole Republican anti-gay groups thing could be considered “risky” in some circles, but not really hereabouts! LGBTQ+ rights is one of my areas of advocacy (in fact, I’m a founding member of the Rainbow Equity Council at my workplace and spent a crap ton of time this month drafting governance documentation for it), but genocides are the issue that are really closer to my heart, so the Syria connection, even if it wasn’t named outright, could also be seen as a “dangerously” political stance, I suppose. But compared to other writing choices (like Scars, which features actual rape, or any of my Freebatch stuff, or any of the stories where Mary is an overt terrorist (rather than “just” a freelance assassin, lol)), I don’t really think I was terribly risky this year. 

Do you have any fanfic or profic goals for the new year? The first item on the agenda is to get back to work on Nocturne, my WIP. After that, we’ll see. That said, I STILL would like to get back to searching for an agent for my novel, which is strongly based on Against the Rest of the World. I would also like to write that Johnlock cookbook I keep vaguely promising (it would feature recipes from my fics), and in a quirky “other” sort of project, I also wrote a heap of haikus about Republicans this fall that I’d like to see about getting published. Want a taste? Sure you do. I give you: 

Brett Kavanaugh

Brett has a face like

a snarly little hedgehog.

He likes beer, okay?!

Mitch McConnell

Moscow Mitch is a

corrupt turtle who keeps his

balls in his neck pouch

Most popular story of the year? Well, the longer a story is posted, the more time it has to collect hits, kudos, bookmarks, and comments, obviously, so that makes The Four Horsemen the clear winner here. 

Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion: From this year or in general? :P I often find that my plottiest, most detailed, most researched stories that I personally think contain some of my most thoughtful writing are the ones that get the least attention. For instance, after series 3 aired, I wrote three back-to-back intensely-detailed series 3 fix-it fics (which all, to their credit, do get plenty of attention, though none so much as Vena Cava, the third of the three). Then I wrote a light-hearted, almost-crack porn fic, more as mental relaxation than any sort of literary genius, and that fic - Best of Three - remains my most wildly-popular story of anything I’ve ever written. It used to frustrate me, but now I’m just grateful to have anyone read anything of mine. But along that theme, yeah: the most complex of this year’s stories (Sine Nomine) is probably the one I feel is the least appreciated, but that’s also fine. No complaints here - I’m very lucky to have the readership I have!! 

Most fun story to write: Sine Nomine, for all the reasons I talked about above, though I’d also call this the most emotionally-invested story of mine from this past year. That said, setting any story in Manhattan is always going to be fun, and I loved researching approximately 500 holiday rental properties in various parts of England in order to finally just create my own, aka Hazel Grange, lol. 

Most unintentionally telling story: Ha, well, if you weren’t sure about my stance on gay rights, marriage equality, or Republicans in general, The Four Horsemen should clear that up pretty distinctly, lol! 

Biggest disappointment: Just that I haven’t had more time to write. 

Biggest surprise: Possibly that I felt so able to represent all three POVs in Sine Nomine as equally as I did. By that, I don’t mean being able to write in their perspectives, but rather in presenting their arguments with (I hope) equal persuasion: Mycroft thinks that John’s entire presence in Sherlock’s life has spelled nothing but disaster for Sherlock. He’s arguably not wrong. He decides that John is out of chances, and that he’s justified in being the one to make that call. Sherlock disagrees, hard, and he’s not wrong. John makes the choice he makes for his daughter, not for the choice Mycroft gives him between choosing either Mary or Sherlock once and for all, and he’s not wrong to have done that, or unjustified in wanting to go and demand some answers from Mary, who isn’t dead after all, here. But then I think that their various reasons for reconciliation are all equally justified, too. I hope! Usually when you stick to one perspective, the story naturally gears itself to persuade the reader to identify with that one character and to take their side. Here, I hope I manage to juggle the balance fairly equally. 

I don’t know who’s been tagged in this already, but I’ll tag: @totallysilvergirl, @blogstandbygo, @nade2308, @weneedtotalkaboutsherlock, @hubblegleeflower, and anyone else who writes. 

[indiavolojones]

Diavolo eats a pomegranate while Lucifer works. Lucifer doesn’t realize that the plate of pomegranate seeds that’s just been steadily growing is, in fact, for him. 

alternate summary: serving/sharing fruit with another is one of the most tender shows of love in the world and i am a soft, gentle soul that just wants canon-compliant-ish domesticity somewhere in the 1800s?? idk, they’ve known each other a damn long time. u_u 

2.2kish words, G, dia/luci, #no warnings apply except for like, idk, a sizzle of diavolo thirst on lu’s part. we can angst later, y’all

Special thanks 2 @canonlucidia for being 1) my rock and 2) my resident lucifer expert that wrote the report line and lastly 3) just being so, so good with lore and patient with me when cv brain go wuh??? 

-

A memory, a snapshot in their thousands of years spent at each other’s sides, the scene burned into his mind. 

Not all their moments are stretched to the extremes, interactions eternally caught in fire and brimstone. Some of them rest here, in a gentle domesticity that Lucifer is hesitant – and rightly so – to acknowledge. 

Here, with the two of them alone in Lucifer’s office, is a tentative, trembling contentment that Lucifer has yet to fully take apart in his mind. 

Lucifer sits at the desk with almost painfully perfect posture, as lamented by Diavolo, several sheets of parchment paper drying in front of him. A small white plate with intricate gold designs burned into the glaze rests nearby. Diavolo pulls out a blade from thin air, cutting it into a ripe pomegranate with the practiced efficiency of someone who grew up with the trees keeping him company.

“I will not be re-writing these reports if you make a mess,” Lucifer says apropos of anything Diavolo might do, on purpose or otherwise. 

The admonishment in his voice half-hearted at best, even as he warily eyes Diavolo slicing the fruit open. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Diavolo quips, returning a cheeky grin, slouched over the empty side of Lucifer’s spacious desk as he cracks open the pomegranate into fours. 

Diavolo opted for his human form today, which is a laughable concept to Lucifer in itself. Diavolo’s aura can barely be contained by him in his demon form, but to see his essence stifled into a mortal’s appearance… Diavolo’s human teeth are always a little too sharp at first glance or in one’s peripherals. His gold eyes are too molten to match any human shade. 

Pair it with Diavolo’s inability to sit on anything without it becoming a throne – sprawling with languid, regal grace as natural as breathing, much to Lucifer’s annoyance – and discretion is a difficult request. 

Lucifer has called him out on his slipping control of the glamours before, especially in the instances where they find themselves working in the Human Realm, the risk of detection a very real threat. Not that many princes are discrete, but Lucifer supposes that if he expected someone to spill out past the seams, it would be Diavolo, who has always been larger than life in both personality and power. 

Despite a grandiose description, Diavolo’s attire does not reflect his status. His outfit is more fitting for a common human rather than the next ruler of Hell. 

The other is dressed in indecently tight trousers and a loose, finely-woven off-white tunic that dips low on his sculpted chest. Cording at the hem of the shirt drapes over his exposed skin, and Lucifer offhandedly wonders why they even bother getting Diavolo fitted for garments if he’s just going to wear things too loose, too tight, or forego most clothes altogether. 

In the past, Lucifer might have asked why are you here? or don’t you have your own work to do? All such inquiries have been shut down with a colorful multitude of responses, displaying the future king’s creativity. 

Some honorable mentions being:

Diavolo’s wild claim that Barbatos was staging a coup, and clearly, Lucifer was the only one who can fight off someone with control over time. Lucifer had asked when Barbatos was hosting the next recruitment session, which led to a troublesome, if not amusing, outburst from Diavolo.

A somehow unionized group of suitors threatened to storm down the palace gates for his hand in marriage. Diavolo was merely hiding in the safest place, for once they believed he was not home, they would give up and leave! 

"A curse, Lucifer. It was a curse!" If more than two pairs of eyes were to witness Diavolo, he would surely burst into flames. That's why he tried to hide behind the door when Barbatos came to collect him!

Nowadays, when Lucifer can’t kick Diavolo out of his study/Barbatos is off running the household and can’t drag him away, he allows himself to lean into giving Diavolo a hard time – nothing unbecoming of their stations, nothing disrespectful – but enough to give Lucifer quiet vindication. 

It serves him right, for all the grievances he causes Lucifer on a daily basis. 

(Levi calls it teasing, but Levi has not left his quarters since the last major war killed one of his favorite authors before a series was finished, so what does Levi know of social interaction?) 

“If you’re in need of something to do, Barbatos and I found a few errors in your last few missives…” Lucifer begins. 

Diavolo, surprisingly, doesn’t jump to the bait.  

There are no witty remarks that come from the future king’s lips, only the lazy upward curl of a smile and a contented hum in return. 

Unused to the lack of a response from the other, Lucifer glances down at the small plate, Diavolo's cultivated pile of seeds gathered in the shallow puddle of juice.

Another pomegranate seed plinks onto the plate, and Lucifer watches through his peripherals as it topples the delicate balance of the seeds already there. 

He narrows his eyes at it briefly, as if it holds the answers to his obvious questions, but says nothing. Diavolo works at a steady pace, humming quietly under his breath as his nimble fingers pluck seeds from the fruit. 

For a while, they go on like that. 

Diavolo alternates between quietly munching on seeds and adding to his growing plate. Lucifer scribbles away at the parchment, his clean script much more legible than Diavolo’s own. 

Diavolo deserves an award, Lucifer thinks, for the longest amount of time spent not getting into trouble in Lucifer’s recent memory. Perhaps he should be more suspicious of the other’s uncharacteristically quiet nature, but Diavolo looks at ease with his menial task.

Diavolo’s tune continues, a soothing, low cadence to his voice offsetting the relative quiet of Lucifer’s quill scratching at the parchment. It’s a waltz, syrupy sweet and with a dreamlike quality as Diavolo’s humming carries the notes into creation. 

It casts a spell with charisma alone, and Lucifer doesn’t notice when his hand stills, quill hovering over the page as he tries to recognize the tune. A smile twists the prince’s lips, his lips stained darker with the sweet purple nectar.

Diavolo doesn’t hesitate in his motions, only glancing up at Lucifer through his lashes. Lucifer’s breath involuntarily catches in his throat.

Lucifer does not think about how Diavolo’s fingertips are stained as well, stained deeper than the curve of his lush lower lip. Does not think about the juice dripping down his tanned skin, drying sticky on his wrists. It is in the middle of these not-thoughts, their gazes catching in passing, that Diavolo speaks.

“20%.” 

“What?” Lucifer startles, despite himself, brows cinching with narrowed eyes. Diavolo reaches down with one long, purple-dyed finger to point at the line where Lucifer’s quill has stopped. The smile only grows, Diavolo tilting his head to the side as he reads the line off of Lucifer’s report.

“‘The sixth circle has under reported their amaranth yield again this quarter, their numbers being off by roughly,” He pauses for dramatic effect, which Lucifer finds wholly unnecessary considering this is a report, not a performance, ”20%.’”

Diavolo purses his lips, before it turns into a huffed laugh, “It’s probably because they pay tithe to Beelzebub. You should talk to him about that.” 

His eyes and hands go back to the fruit in front of him. Lucifer does not admit that the next part of his report was about to mention that it is likely due to his hungriest brother.

Saved from having to formulate a response, there’s a knock at the door, and Barbatos’ muffled voice on the other side calls, “Lucifer? Have you seen Prince Diavolo?” 

Diavolo’s posture immediately jerks up, and then his shoulders curl in on himself, like a child that knows he’s been caught. Barbatos is, most definitely, here for Diavolo. 

Lucifer is absolutely not relieved at the distraction. He levels Diavolo with a singular stare that somehow says I’m not covering for you, and nearly rolls his eyes when Diavolo returns a pained look that begs please?

A strange, out of place idea has Lucifer wanting to concede to Diavolo’s whims, to pretend that no one is there. Ridiculous. As they sit in the silence, there’s a moment where Diavolo’s eyes light up, as if thinking that Lucifer might actually help him out –

“He’s in here,” Lucifer says, because of course he is. All three of them know there’s no way that he wouldn’t be, and Diavolo deflates. 

It’s clear from the slight, upwards quirk of Barbatos’ lips that he knows Lucifer’s hesitation. Lucifer bristles at the thought, at Barbatos’ ability to always see more than is shown. 

Barbatos does not startle easily – in fact, Lucifer believes he can recall maybe a handful of times that the other has reacted with little more than resigned acceptance or rueful amusement. 

It wounds his pride, in a sense, to have Barbatos walk in on a scene like this (like what? Diavolo slowly working at Lucifer’s carefully constructed walls, trying to carve a contented little spot in Lucifer’s life? Yes. Lucifer is aware.) and have his reaction be anything less than shocked. Appalled? 

Perhaps aghast, that Lucifer too has fallen to the whims of his lord. 

Unless Barbatos thought that Lucifer would cave from the beginning, Lucifer realizes, and it sours his expression in the slightest. 

“Barbatos!” Diavolo grins, still slouched over the edge of the desk like it pains him to have good posture. 

“I have been looking for you, my lord,” Barbatos says, his voice as even and polite as ever. 

“I’ve been taking a break!” 

“It’s been four hours since you said you would be right back, sir. I thought I would help you find your way, since you seem to be having some trouble.”  

Diavolo, a devil of almost immeasurable power and status, has the gall to look sheepish in front of his butler and aide. He glances big, pleading eyes at Lucifer as if asking for help again, and Lucifer cocks one brow, saying nothing. 

A beat of silence passes, before Diavolo suddenly exhales loudly, tossing his hands (one of which is holding a knife, and the other a pomegranate, and juice splashes on the desk alarmingly close to his nearly-finished report) into the air. 

“Okay, okay! I’m coming,” Diavolo concedes, still brimming with amusement as he easily disposes of the empty pomegranate husk with his magic. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he wipes the remnants of sticky juice off the blade and his fingers, staining the pristine white purple. 

“Let’s stop by the kitchens on the way there, Barbatos. Fruit has only made me realize how famished I truly am!” Diavolo says, placing the handkerchief down and stretching his arms up as he stands. 

“I can bring something to your office, my lord.” Barbatos shoots down the attempt at escape, and Diavolo tsks under his breath. 

“You’re too smart, Barbatos,” Diavolo says, walking towards his butler and patting one hand on the other’s shoulders, “You know all my tricks by now.” He nods sagely as they walk to the exit of the room. Barbatos gives a soft sigh. 

“We both know that’s not true, my lord.” 

Lucifer watches, unafraid to admit to himself that he finds some amusement in Diavolo’s plight, before he realizes the mess that Diavolo has left behind. 

“Your – ” Mess? Pile of fruit seeds? Penchant for completely derailing Lucifer’s productivity? Whatever Lucifer had intended to say is cut off by a dismissive wave of Diavolo’s hand and a cheerful slant of a smile on the other’s face. 

“Those are for you!” Diavolo laughs, and Lucifer doesn’t have the opportunity to get a response in before Diavolo whirls into the hallway, Barbatos shutting the door after him with a soft click. 

Lucifer sits in silence, listening to the muffled, familiar chatter between the two, fading as they travel further from the door. He tells himself that this is to make sure that Diavolo has truly left, not for any other frivolous, flowery reasons that his brothers might claim, were they to know of his lingering gaze on the plate, the stained handkerchief Diavolo left behind. 

The plate of pomegranate seeds rests in the corner of his desk, still untouched.

Lucifer ignores it until the candles in the room burn dangerously low, the only indication of time passing thanks to the endless twilight of the Devildom. When he finally decides to stop, he rolls his neck to alleviate the stiffness, eyes fluttering shut at the tension. 

When they open again, his gaze lands once more on the plate. 

This time, it stays. 

Alone in the privacy of his office, Lucifer props an elbow unceremoniously on the table. He brings his hand to his chin, gloved fingers tapping at his lips. More silence passes, a decision is made. Lucifer tugs off the glove of his right hand.

For him, Diavolo had said. 

Lucifer isn’t particularly fond of pomegranates. 

The flavor isn’t anything amazing to him, and they’re much too messy, but there’s a strange, perverse pleasure beginning to blossom inside him at the fresh memory of Diavolo devoting his time to a task solely for Lucifer, understanding coloring where there was once muted shades of gray.  

Kings are servants to their kingdoms, but there’s an undeniable intimacy in the act of servitude for one. 

It makes the initial burst of flavor on his tongue all the more sweet. 

[galactic-magick]

The Wedding: Logan x Reader

Summary: You attend Janus and Patton’s wedding and some things get said.

Words: 2200+                                        

Warnings: swears, lots of kiss kiss

Author’s Notes: I know I said I was taking a break from writing but I couldn’t get this idea out of my head hahaha but now I’m actually gonna take a break cuz college or whatever

Taglist: @luluwinchester​ @nerve-ous-love​ @zarieslayer​ @amayaisokay​

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You’re so happy for them. The smiles on both of their faces as they kiss really says it all, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted for them. They both look so excited and handsome, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen Janus so cheerful. They’re truly meant for each other, even though it took them a while to realize.

You’re standing next to the other sides and they’re all having very different reactions. Roman has a few tears running down his cheeks, Virgil has the slightest smirk across his lips, and Remus is clapping and cheering.

Logan you can’t really read, he looks happy, but there’s something else. Something deep in his eyes, something longing.

Or maybe that’s just what you wish you could see.

Weddings always seem to bring about thoughts about people’s own love lives, and you’re no exception. You’ve been crushing on Logan for what feels like forever, but you’ve never made a move or told him about it. You can’t help but imagine what it would be like if you were up there with him, vowing to spend your lives together. You’re not even sure if he’d date you, let alone marry you, yet it never hurts to daydream…

“Are you alright?” Logan must’ve noticed you zoned out.

You blink a few times and smile, “Yeah, yeah, I’m good,”

The happy couple walks back down the aisle towards the reception room and the other sides start to follow.

“May I?” Logan holds out his arm to you.

You nod and hang onto him, following the others.

It’s just a simple act of politeness, but your heart pounding in your chest says otherwise. He looks fantastic in a suit and being so close to him gives you chills, all you can hope is that you can get through this night and still be able to breathe.

You can’t imagine him ever being this crazy about you, even if he does possess some feelings for you. It seems silly to wish for some insane romantic time tonight, especially since you’re supposed to be focused on the literal marriage that just happened. You’re just going to have to ignore how ridiculously hot he is for a few hours. No problem.

Logan lets you go to help with the music and lights, and the party starts. Everyone rushes to congratulate Janus and Patton, then flock to the dance floor and food tables.

You grab a slice of cake and take a seat, not quite ready to talk to a bunch of people yet. Of course you know quite a lot of the people here, but there’s still some you don’t and honestly small talk isn’t really your favorite thing.

“Enjoying your cake?” Logan settles down next to you.

“Please don’t tell me you came all the way over here to lecture me on how unhealthy it is,”

“What? Of course not,” he takes a bite of his own. “Indulging in sweets on occasion within moderation can have a variety of benefits for your mental and emotional well-being,”

“Ah, good to know,”

“Do you…” he hesitates. “Do you really think that’s all I do? Lecture people about bad habits?”

“No! I mean, yeah, you do that a lot, but I was just joking,”

“Well I sincerely apologize regardless,”

“Oh…thank you,” you finish your cake and gaze at the small crowd of people that have gathered in the center of the room, dancing about and having a good time. The music switches between slow and peppy, since no one could decide if slow dancing or mosh pits were better. Remus for one doesn’t seems to care which, he hasn’t stopped twerking since you came in here.

“Marriage is so strange, isn’t it?”

“How so?” you ask.

“Not strange in a negative sense of course, it’s just because it’s so unexplainable. Life is full of figurative twists and turns yet somehow against all odds two people can find each other and decide to stay with each other for the foreseeable future; and they’re so sure about it that they’re willing to make it legally binding. Fascinating,”

“Would you ever do that?” you look up at him. “Get married?”

“I’m not opposed to the idea, but I doubt anyone would want me as a husband,” he chuckles. “I’ve been told I’m not the best romantic,”

“By who, Roman?” you laugh. “He just has extremely high standards for that kind of stuff,”

“I suppose so. What about you?”

I would for you, your mind echoes, although you could never say it out loud.

“I think so, but I don’t think I’m the greatest quality spouse material either,”

The guests get a bit louder so you go over to see what’s up. Patton and Janus have started doing some toasts, and each of the sides and other close friends are giving short speeches about them. They had asked if you wanted to give one as well, but everything you wanted to say was already covered by the others and you don’t particularly want to talk to a large crowd.

Roman’s speech makes nearly everyone cry, Virgil’s is surprisingly sweet and Remus’s makes everyone laugh.

Logan steps up to the front of the room with a microphone for his, “As many of you know being sentimental is not my strength, but I assure you that this union is a true blessing to this world,” he looks to them. “Patton, you’ve been a dear friend to me for many years, and I know you will be an even better husband. Janus, you’ve changed the lives of not only Patton but all of us, and I’m sure that you will continue to challenge more in this new stage of your life. I wish you both the best,”

Every one claps and cheers and then goes back to dancing and socializing. As much as you’re having fun, after a while you’re a bit exhausted so you stay on the side of the room watching. You don’t want to leave, but this environment is getting overwhelming.

“There’s a spare room down the hall, you know,” Logan comes up behind you, making you jump.

“What?”

“There’s an empty room at this venue that just has extra tables and chairs. You appear a little uneasy so I thought I’d let you know in case you wanted to get away from the noise for a while,”

“Oh my gosh, yes,” you sigh. He offers you his hand and you take it probably a little too quickly. He takes you down there and shuts the door.

You run over to one of the stacks of chairs and sit on the top one, dangling your legs. The air is a lot cooler in here, most likely because there’s not as much body heat from tons of people. There’s only a couple lights so it’s pretty dim, but not so much that you can’t see everything.

“You don’t have to stay with me,” you say.

“Would you rather me leave?”

“No!” you shake your head. “I just don’t want you to miss the party,”

“I’m sure I won’t be missing anything significant,”

“Were you not having fun?”

“I was enjoying myself yes,” he lets out a breath. “I just feel, at least I think I feel…somewhat out of place,”

“Why?”

“It doesn’t matter,”

“No, no,” you reach out for his hand again. “Tell me,”

He looks into your eyes, searching for something, anything. Answers, something to explain the strange sensation in his heart, “What does love feel like?”

You lean back a bit, not expecting such a question from him, “Well, it’s different for everyone. There’s familial and platonic love of course, but each of those can feel very different from romantic love and other kinds of attraction. Which one do you mean?”

“What Janus and Patton have,” he says it as if it’s some strong force of physics that he can’t wait to understand.

“I mean, even romantic love varies from person to person. Sometimes it feels like a burning passion, and sometimes it feels like they’re the only thing in the world that calms you down. It can feel like a best friend or it can feel like someone you want to learn more and more about every day,”

“So you’ve felt it? Love?”

“I think so, but it’s not really the same when the other person doesn’t love you back,” your eyes fall to the floor.

“Why wouldn’t they love you back?”

“Well sometimes things just don’t work out, sometimes the feeling doesn’t go both ways,” you shrug. “Why are you asking me all this?”

His eyes squint a bit, and he’s silent for a moment.

“I think I feel love,” he finally says.

“You do?”

“I wasn’t sure what it was, but after today and what you said, I’m fairly certain it is,”

“Wow! That’s um…great,” you’re not quite sure what to say. The man you’ve been fantasizing about all evening is talking about feeling true love for the first time, and it’s probably not even for you. “Who’s the lucky one?”

“You,”

It is you?

“What?” you croak.

“I feel love for you,” he coughs. “I mean, I love you. That’s how you phrase it, right?”

“I-“

“I understand if you do not feel it too. You said the person you feel love for does not love you back, correct?”

“Well I…I didn’t know that you loved me back-“

He rests his hand on your knee, “Don’t worry. The knowledge of my feelings shouldn’t get in the way of another. Have you considered asking this person if they also possess feelings for you?”

“What? Logan no-“ Does he really not get it?

Without giving a second thought, you throw your arms around his neck and pull him closer to you, smashing your lips onto his. His are stiff but soon soften, and you can practically feel him realizing what’s going on. His hand slides up a bit and grips your thigh and the other strokes your face ever so softly.

You separate slightly, just enough that you can see his expression.

“Ah. So I’m the one you thought didn’t love you back,” he grins.

“Yeah…”

“I think I like it, this love concept,” he licks his lips. “I see what all the fuss is about now,”

“It is pretty cool I guess,” you giggle.

He leans in again and steals another kiss, “I like those too,”

“We can definitely do more of that,”

“Let’s go then,” he grabs your legs and wraps them around his torso, holding onto you tight.

You grip onto him for dear life as he lifts you off the stack of chairs, “Wait where are we going?”

He opens the door and goes back down the hall, running into the others.

“Logan? What’s going on?” Roman asks.

“Isn’t it obvious? He’s kidnapping Y/N,” Virgil rolls his eyes.

“What?!”

“Nah, we’re just gonna go makeout!” you call, and their shocked faces are the last thing you see as you turn the corner.

Before you know it you’re in the backseat of Logan’s car with his lips on yours again. For a guy who just came to terms with his feelings he’s an unbelievable kisser, and honestly you haven’t even fully comprehended what’s happening. You’re just going with the flow, and neither of you can get enough.

He doesn’t seem to get bored of even the smallest things, kissing your lips, holding your face and your hands. He takes his time, he’s nervous and a bit unsure of how everything’s supposed to work but he’s determined to make you feel loved.

And you do.

You never would’ve thought you’d be pressed against the seat of Logan Sanders’ car by the end of tonight, but here you are, and you’re not complaining.

“Is this okay?” he stops. “People who love each other do this, correct?”

You run your fingers through his hair, “Yeah, this is what people who love each other do,” you smile.

“Remarkable,” his knuckles glide along your jaw. “We should do this every day then,”

“Definitely,”

He starts kissing you again, this time trailing down your neck.

You look out the window and see some movement outside. It’s dark out so you’re not sure, but it looks like people are walking towards you.

“Logan, wait,” you gently push him off of you.

“What’s wrong?”

Roman, Remus, and Virgil approach the car.

“What do you guys think you’re doing? Janus and Patton just left for their honeymoon and we need to help clean up!” Roman scolds.

“I think they were fucking,” Remus snickers.

“No we weren’t! Not yet- I mean, no! Not at all!” you stammer.

Virgil huffs, “You guys have been making heart eyes at each other all night, am I really the only one who’s not surprised?”

“Yes, Virgil, you are!” Roman growls. “Look, I don’t care what you guys wanna do later, can you at least help pack up the leftover food and the sound stuff?”

“Of course, Roman,” Logan nods, opening the door.

They all head back inside, you and Logan close behind hand in hand.

“I feel kinda bad for ditching everyone, we didn’t even get to see them leave,” you say.

“They’re be back in a couple weeks, darling, it’ll be alright,”

You stop and whip your head towards him, “What did you just call me?”

“Darling. Would you rather me not give you nicknames? I’m so sorry-“

You cut him off with a kiss, “No, no, it’s sweet. I like it,” you smile.

“Are you guys serious?!”

[camillemontespan]

writing camille montespan and the problem with the TRR MC

Basically, an opinion piece about the TRR MC and a short essay on Camille Montespan. Feel free to add your own opinions and maybe write your own about your MC/OC!

@moonlightgem7 @jovialyouthmusic @ibldw-main @katedrakeohd @pug-bitch @saivilo @argylemnwrites @rainbowsinthestorm @marshmallowsandfire @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @gardeningourmet @princessleac1  @axwalker​  @mskaneko​  @emichelle​   ***************

Can we all agree that the TRR MC is slightly flawed? And perhaps a little annoying? And a hot mess with no idea of how to fit into the nobility?  Who basically improvises everything she does while stringing the King of Cordonia along (if he isn’t your LI) and solves every problem with a trip to the boutique or attending a ball?

TRR MC is not the best MC in the Choices universe and that is a hill I am willing to die on.

That’s where fanfic comes in. During my year and a half in this fandom, I’ve discovered mutuals who write stories about the TRR MC that puts the actual Choices writers to shame. MCs are fleshed out with proper back stories. The ridiculous canon story that a waitress from New York finds herself in a suitor competition in a European country - a country she’s never heard of because clearly she’s not informed on geography- is still incorporated into fics but it’s given more of a realistic twist. We are aware of how stupid the actual storyline is and so we try our best to make the best of it. Sometimes, we write AUs to fix the shit that the TRR writers have made a reality. AUs are the best.

As my writing has developed, I’ve found that I’ve created my own universe for Camille, my TRR MC. In my very first fic, This Heavy Crown, I focused more on the suitor competition and stuck to canon moments because I didn’t know you could write AUs. It was very angsty. But I found it so fun to write Camille and the fanfic writing obsession began.

Fun fact about Camille: she is actually descended from nobility. Madame de Montespan was a real life noble of Louis XIV’s court - she was his mistress. I thought it would  be fun to name Camille after Madame de Montespan because how ironic would it be to have the American commoner turn out to be more regal than fucking Madeline?!

Anyway back to my writing.

Now, I tend to write AUs that have more realistic plots. My favourite series that I’ve written has been The History of Us and I will tell you why.

MY FAVOURITE CAMILLE SERIES

The History of Us (the first chapter is missing, sadly) is where Camille becomes more than just the Duchess of Valtoria. As I wrote her, she became more of a person - which sounds ridiculous but I think my fellow writers will understand due to their own writing of their MCs! 

The History of Us is still set in Cordonia and Camille and Drake are Duchess and Duke. But that is where canon stops. My own head canons grew and became, to me, actual canon for Camille and Drake. 

In the fic, Camille takes their daughter, Lily, and leaves the family home, clearly upset with Drake. Before she goes, she gives Drake a box and tells him to go through its contents before making any contact with her. The mystery in the opening chapter is WHY is Camille leaving? All of my readers were asking ‘what did Drake do?!’ and you eventually find out as the series develops.

In a nutshell, Drake struggles to adapt to his new role as Duke (something I found the Choices writers never attempted aside from his awkward ‘things are great!’ joke). He is a fish out of water and longs for life to be normal. While Camille has flourished in her role, Drake hasn’t and the pressure gets to him. With constant media attention, Drake feels claustrophobic and so turns to alcohol to numb himself. As a result, he isolates himself from his family and Camille is left trying to hold the ship together. 

It was a challenging fic to write but I had so much fun writing more of Camille. She isn’t perfect and that is what I wanted to show. She fucks up. For the first chapters, she is very much of the idea that they present their best faces to the world and keep up their duty to Valtoria. Her Duchess hat is firmly on her head. A few of my readers were screaming in the comments that she needed to get her family out of Cordonia. I agreed with them but I knew that to make Camille realise her mistakes, she had to be stubborn and actually.. Wrong. But, as things with Drake get worse, Camille forces herself to confront what is truly important and she starts to fight for her marriage and her husband’s health.

CAMILLE IN A NUTSHELL

‘Wife and mother first, Duchess second.’ That is Camille’s motto and is something that is echoed in all of my fics. She is a fierce woman who fights Drake’s corner and the loves of her life are her family. The more confident she becomes as Duchess, the more willing she is to stick up for herself and her family. When they make decisions based on their children -eg. Sending them to a ‘normal’ school so they can mix with commoners - the nobility are outraged. But does Camille care? No. She is a lion mama who wants the best for her kids. She doesn’t want Lily and Luna to turn into stuck up rich girls. She wants them to stay grounded. 

Unlike in canon when Drake and MC go to Texas and are stuck there against their will (or was it us, the players, who were stuck there against our will?), I write that Drake and Camille visit Texas every summer. It’s a slice of normality for them and they love it there. It’s where Camille can just be Camille. When Camille isn’t a Duchess, she can be more relaxed. She goofs around and plays with her daughters. She wears more casual clothes and drinks whiskey. She is the Camille that Drake fell in love with, not that he doesn’t love her when she’s a Duchess! It’s just that the Duchess Camille is a more refined version and how polished and elegant she can be scares him sometimes, while also making him feel in awe of her. This is a woman who entered Cordonian nobility without any experience and actually listened to advice and worked hard to adapt (something TRR MC does not). Basically, Camille has two sides to her, the Duchess and the commoner, and she strikes a neat balance between the two.

I base the foundation of her character on her face claim, Meghan Markle. I find it funny when mutuals have told me in the past that when they see Meghan on TV or in magazines, they’re like ‘oh it’s Camille!’ 

Why have Meghan as an FC? Well, I feel she resembles my TRR MC closely, plus Meghan was literally an American commoner who found herself marrying into royalty. 

What I love about Meghan is how keen she is to make a difference. She threw herself into royal duties when she married Prince Harry and, like Diana before her, she made a huge impression on the people she met. I’m sad that she and Harry left their roles as Meghan had so much potential. 

So, Camille basically does the stuff that I think Meghan would do if she was still a working royal. 

Camille is a feminist who works to promote women’s equality in the workplace. She wants Cordonia to modernise (something lacking under Constantine’s rule) and now that Liam is King, that dream will become a reality. She imagines a future for her daughters where they can have any job they want and be whoever they want to be; the sky is the limit. Everything she does is for her daughters.

Despite wanting Cordonia to modernise, Camille is also respectful of their history. In my head canon, Drake and Camille discover that Valtoria used to hold Open Houses. An open house is when the people of Valtoria can visit the Duke and Duchess and talk to them about issues within the duchy. Open houses hadn’t been a thing for 200 years but when Camille and Drake discovered this old piece of history, they reintroduced the concept. Basically, Camille wants to use her platform for good - something which the TRR MC is lacking. All TRR MC does is go to balls and act like an idiot! Where is the responsibility? Where is the interest in learning more about the duchy? Why is she never at her duchy?! 

If you want to read more of Camille, I point you to the interview I wrote of her. I love writing interviews as they are like a character study and it’s so fun to delve into the personality. Writing this interview was a joy. The words flowed and I was so pleased with how it turned out. It’s the definitive piece about Camille and who she is.

[agapaic]

tianshan drabble. 💞 created for Fay @nightfayre following her matched donation to Communities United Against Police Brutality. see here for more information. thank you so much to @fantasiapegasus for proofreading! 🌸 synopsis: guan shan receives an unexpected birthday present.

-

‘We’ll be late,’ He Tian says, the reminder only a little impatient.

Guan Shan’s lip curls. ‘I’m not rushin’ anywhere,’ he says. ‘Not today.’

He Tian holds his hands up, like catching his fingers on a burner, and says nothing. He’d bought them both bubble tea from the café in the apartment’s lobby that morning, and now he watches Guan Shan finishing his, which is cold and sweet. Guan Shan gives it a shake. Small tapioca balls drift around at the bottom, the colour and shape of pomegranate seeds, strangely tacky on He Tian’s tongue when he accepts the proffered remnants of the cup and tips his head back. He Tian puts the empty cup on the side of the kitchen counter.

‘Now can we go?’

Guan Shan narrows his eyes. ‘You know I fuckin’ hate birthdays.’

‘I know.’

‘You know I fuckin’ hate bein’ told what to do.’

A wry smile. ‘I’m very intimate with the concept.’

‘Bein’ told what to do or me hatin’ it?’

He Tian says, ‘Yes.’ He hands Guan Shan a light jacket; the day will be warm, but the mornings are still cool, and He Tian had bought the jacket for Guan Shan’s twentieth birthday a few years ago and still admires its fit.

The café they’re going to for brunch doesn’t take bookings, but they’ve made an exception for He Tian, and Guan Shan’s mother will be meeting them there. Ordinarily, they would spend the morning fucking and He Tian would fetch a box of hot sweet bread and fresh baozi from a breakfast stall down the street. They would watch Li Ziqi on Weibo for half the day, pretending they were somewhere beautiful in Sichuan, and Guan Shan wouldn’t mind if He Tian got crumbs on the sheets.

‘We can go there,’ He Tian would say. ‘Right now—I’ll take you.’

And Guan Shan would explain, in his own way, that there was no real desire in him for it; the want was brief and insubstantial. He wanted to live Li Ziqi’s life like he wanted mushroom jiaozi instead of shrimp, a bland preference. He wouldn’t mind either way which he got.

Today, He Tian hasn’t allowed for the simple pleasure of sex and food. Today, after a year, he can offer something more. He checks his messages on his phone as they ride the elevator down to the lobby, and Qiu has sent him a thumbs-up emoji. They’re good to go. He Tian feels a little sick, and his smile feels warped on his lips when Guan Shan catches his eye in the ceiling mirror.

‘What?’ Guan Shan murmurs. They’re alone in the elevator, but the need to lower their voices is instinctive. ‘You look funny.’

‘I’m just happy,’ He Tian says. ‘It’s your birthday.’

Guan Shan looks away. ‘Fuckin’ weirdo,’ he mutters, but the corner of his mouth is tight, like he’s holding in a smile.

‘You’re not excited to see your mother?’

‘We see her every week for dinner.’

He Tian shrugs. The elevator dings; the doors slide open. They walk out into the complex’s underground car park, and He Tian’s black sports car bleeps as he raises the keys. It doesn’t fit his emaciated salary of being a nightclub bartender, but the car is an element of He Tian’s family wealth to which Guan Shan doesn’t object.

Guan Shan argued once that it defeated the point of the underprivileged image He Tian has been working on cultivating since his father struck him off—which is true, in a fashion—but money still leaks from somewhere, and He Tian wears the marks of it like an oil stain.

They get in the car, and He Tian pulls out from the car park and into the bright mid-morning air, busy with gnats and birds and the muted twang of far-off city construction work. A blackbird flits across the windshield, and He Tian is careful as he eases onto the street.

‘So,’ he says, ‘if you could have anything—’

‘Have we gotta do this every fuckin’ year?’

‘—anything, Mo Guan Shan, what would it be?’

Guan Shan sighs. ‘A pony. Buy me a fuckin’ pony.’

‘Where would we keep it?’ He Tian asks, laughing.

‘I dunno. Where do the rich fuckers in this city keep them?’

‘In stables out of the city.’ Grimacing, He Tian adds: ‘They go riding on weekends, but hire an ostler for most of the year.’

Guan Shan’s expression is comical. ‘Tell me you haven’t.’

He Tian laughs again. ‘I haven’t, I swear. I only know ‘cause friends of the family used to have horses. Still do, I suppose. It’s the kind of thing you never leave, right?’

‘Like working for the mob?’

There’s a collective pause, and then He Tian says, ‘Wow, you really do hate birthdays.’

He catches Guan Shan wince, a token of regret. He hasn’t lashed out in a while, and they don’t talk about He Tian’s family—or its business—unless they can help it. Usually, it’s He Tian remarking on some old pastime he had to endure on his father’s orders. On even rarer occasions, Guan Shan mentions it when he's indulging in a particularly foul mood and their disparate upbringings become a tool only to set them further apart.

They drive for ten minutes in silence, and Guan Shan chews on a hangnail and flicks through radio channels before switching the system off entirely.

‘You know why I hate them,’ Guan Shan says. And then: ‘Sorry.’

He Tian knows. It was only revealed to him on a night out for Guan Shan’s eighteenth birthday. Guan Shan had been drunk, and cried in the taxi on the way back to his mother’s apartment, then threw up onto the pavement with his head hanging out the doorway after the driver stopped the car.

The story went like this: it had been his birthday when his father was arrested for fraud and associated gang activity; his parents had planned to close up early and make him a cake together in the kitchens, which they’d eat slice after slice until they felt sick. Instead, police had swarmed into the restaurant in riot gear, and Guan Shan had hidden under a table in a cleaning cupboard, memorising the labels on bottles of bleach until he had a headache from the chemical fumes and a uniformed woman with a face visor pulled him out by the wrist. He’d been five, and didn’t see his mother for four days. After everything, she’d known nothing.

‘Seriously,’ He Tian says. ‘Tell me what you want.’

‘Brunch with you and my ma.’ He Tian doesn’t look at him; he sounds frustrated. ‘I’m not gonna say I want him there ‘cause he’s not gonna be there.’

He Tian checks his mirrors. ‘Guan Shan—’

‘Yeah, yeah. Don’t wish for things you’re never gonna get. I’ve learnt my lesson, whatever.’

‘Actually, sweetheart, I was going to say we’re here.’

Guan Shan blinks. Gravel crunches beneath the tyres as He Tian eases the car into a parking space in the city hall’s car park. He pushes the pedal for the parking brake, and the engine turns off automatically. Obviously, they’re not at the café.

‘I don’t understand,’ says Guan Shan, and then he looks at He Tian. ‘I swear to fuckin’ god, if there are marriage papers waitin’ in there…’

He Tian laughs loudly, startled. The thought hadn’t occurred to him, but now he wishes it had. ‘No,’ he says. ‘Not today.’

Guan Shan glowers at him, and He Tian opens his car door. ‘Come on,’ he says, nodding his head. ‘Quick detour.’

He can hear Guan Shan muttering in furious debate with himself as he unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out the car, slamming the door a little too hard. His grip is white-knuckled in He Tian’s hand when he reaches his side, and He Tian smooths his thumb across Guan Shan’s knuckles.

‘You’re sweating,’ He Tian says.

‘I don’t like surprises,’ Guan Shan grinds out, then swipes at the sheen on his forehead with the sleeve of his jacket. ‘What the fuck are we here for?’

‘I told you—’

‘That was bullshit.’ Guan Shan only looks ahead, approaching the steps with a vague grimace of contempt. A woman and man stand at the entrance in bullet proof vests, cradling guns in their arms. ‘Sorry, but it’s bullshit.’

He Tian shrugs. He flashes a badge to the officials standing at the main entrance, and says, ‘Magistrates’ hearing.’

They’re allowed in.

‘What the fuck,’ he hears Guan Shan whisper, and then pulls him through when the officials step aside, wearing sunglasses and looks that are equal in severity. Inside, the glossy hallways are cool, and He Tian becomes aware of the swiftness of his own pulse, a staccato metronome. Guan Shan looks sharply at him as they head towards a part of the building that is marked out by signs on polished chrome stands that read ‘Magistrates’ Court & Legal Offices’. Everyone they pass wears a suit; the click of women’s heels on the marble tiled flooring is loud.

Eventually, they walk through a final hallway and out into a brightly lit atrium. Mid-morning sun filters down like they’re in a church, and it makes Qiu’s hair look bright and see-through.

‘The hell is he doin’ here?’ Guan Shan asks, voice wavering with nerves. ‘He Tian—’

‘It’s alright,’ He Tian soothes. ‘Trust me.’

He Tian nods at Qiu, who is standing before a huge set of closed wooden doors with metal rivets studded down each side. Briefly, He Tian entertains the possibility that Qiu is the gatekeeper to some celestial doorway, and he squeezes Guan Shan’s hand tighter.

‘They’ve just made the ruling,’ says Qiu. ‘It’ll only take a minute.’

He Tian nods.

As a three, they stand in silence. It is the silence of men who know that something is about to happen, but don’t know exactly what. Beside He Tian, Guan Shan is shaking. He Tian has lost some of the sensation in his hand, and his pulse aches at his wrist. When he glances at Guan Shan, he can see a bead of sweat run from the crop of red hair at his temple, and down the soft slope of his ear.

Please don’t throw up, He Tian wants to say, jokingly, but then he thinks that might trigger it.

Eventually, there’s sound behind the doors, like the scraping of chairs, and a man’s voice. The three of them stand to one side as they eventually open, and a strange breath of air flows from the room, cool and hot all at once. Inside, the courtroom is disappointingly small, and there are only a handful of people: a jury, the judge, the necessary legal representatives, and a man in a suit that might once have fitted him.

He can take the jacket off, He Tian thinks, and roll up the sleeves. It’ll do for brunch.

‘Oh, you fuck,’ Guan Shan says, the words an exhale. He’s not looking at He Tian. Really, the words could be directed at anyone. There’s a bubble of hysteria welling in He Tian’s throat, and he’s not sure if he wants to laugh or cry. He does nothing, and lets Guan Shan’s hand fall from his.

‘We got him a lawyer,’ he tells Guan Shan, standing at his shoulder, speaking quietly. ‘A better one. They won the appeal.’

Guan Shan nods, but He Tian knows he’s only half listening. His mouth has fallen open. There’s a taut line between his brows where they’ve drawn together and made a ridge. He looks like he’s in pain, and He Tian supposes he probably is. How many years has he looked at his father behind a grate, or smeared glass? Fifteen? Sixteen? He Tian knows it’s more.

He watches the moment Mr Mo’s gaze meets his son’s. There’s fear there—shame, too. Mr Mo’s lawyer whispers something in his client’s ear, pats a hand to his shoulder, then walks from the hall with his briefcase and a courteous nod in He Tian’s direction. His job is done; in an hour, he’ll send an invoice. Alone, the space between them some unchartered territory, Guan Shan takes an uncertain step forward.

Like a child, He Tian thinks.

After a moment, Guan Shan takes another, and another. He’s started crying. When they’re only a foot apart, he and his father stare at each other. It lasts a few seconds, until they both smile at the startled realisation: they’re the same height. Staying where he is, He Tian watches the embrace; he can’t hear the words that follow. Their mouths move the same; their eyes are deceivingly soft. He Tian presses down his envy. He catches the words birthday and red. Mr Mo’s hands gesture to Guan Shan’s hair, appraise his clothes with pride and something like fear.

He Tian waits a few minutes before he begins to move forward. He expects Qiu to hold him back, but Qiu doesn’t. Up close, the similarities between them are unnerving.

‘Dad, this is He Tian,’ Guan Shan says when He Tian reaches his side. He Tian doesn’t touch him, but he wants to.

‘I know,’ says Mr Mo, his voice gravelly with disuse and too many cigarettes. ‘We’ve already met.’

-

🌸 in the footsteps of @nightfayre ‘s wonderful initiative, i’ll be filling any drabble requests following a donation to help the fund for george floyd, the black lives matter movement, or any similar cause. please read here if you would like more information! ✨ 

[xinanlide]

hey dash people and tag people!! hope everyone is doing alright! i’ve been really itching to write, and have had quite a lot of muse lately so...here goes nothing?

some bare bones universes/muses/dynamics i’d like to plot out/flesh out/have inspo for...

i have a kim taehyung fc muse who hears ghosts and tries his hardest to help them move on. supernatural themes, potentially horror. blurb: he's in the business of talking to ghosts. or, more appropriately, he's in the business of helping them move on. they talk to him, and he usually doesn't talk back to them unless he needs to. find him down a side road off of a main road, in a small little shop that has room in the back for his humble lifestyle.

fire emblem: three houses au: yeah yeah yeah i’m late i KNOW i just got a switch, okay!!! could be set in that universe with ocs, or we could take on versions of the already present characters!

heist au: i have a former specialized safe-cracker career criminal muse that is super bitter now that most safes/security systems are tech/electronic based, and that their specialty is starting to fade aka become less relevant. so, since crime is all she’s ever known in her life, she’s now that person who knows a guy who knows a guy who can get you what you need. big chip on her shoulder, kind of bitchy & bitter, but enter her foil, and it’ll be a fun time!

magical realism/urban fantasy au: i have a muse who has a natural affinity for alchemy-type magic, but it’s considered taboo so he’s kept it under wraps and only does it selectively for the black market. uses black chalk to draw his circles and signs, and a big part of his character design is that he has lots of tattoos all over his arms as spell references. chip on his shoulder, not a bad guy, but pretty gruff and disillusioned by the way their society works/runs.

modern gods au: i have a reincarnated funeral director who’s got the soul of mnemosyne (greek goddess of memory) inside em/in a past life. kind of more slice of life/could tie in kind of with percy jackson au or lean more slice of life, depending on what you’re into!

sense8 au: i’ve started about half a dozen threads with people about this but none of them have ever progressed past 1 or 2 replies :’c we can do short script things just...such a wonderful concept and universe, so heavily underexplored/threaded out!

atla/lok blend au: so. many. possibilities.

other random ideas: single parent au, workplace rivals dynamic, choreographers in love, friends to enemies to friends to lovers (or any variation, really), modern royalty (think arranged marriages?)

i use both eastern and western faces, so long as it fits the dynamic/makes sense for the plot! i’m comfortable and flexible with writing pretty much any type of pairing or rating, so go wild, y’all.

for a sense of my writing style/literacy you’re welcome to browse this blog or for some of my more recent stuff peek here or here! if you want i could probably also er, scrounge up a some references?? i’ll put it in a cv too if you want i’m just...so itching to write!!!

if something in this list catches your eye, or you think we could vibe well and plot something else out, feel free to send me a message via tumblr im or discord (soulshaker#5059)! cheers, guys!

[365days365movies]

April 9, 2021: Some Like it Hot (1959) (Recap: Part One)

If there was ever a movie more hyped than this one...

Ever heard of the American Film Institute? Well, according to them in 2000 (recent, I know), this is the funniest comedy...period. At the time, anyway. That beats Tootsie (getting there), Dr. Strangelove (love it), Annie Hall (also loved it), Duck Soup (classic), Blazing Saddles (classic, topical, and fantastic), M*A*S*H (maybe later this year), It Happened One Night (maybe next year), The Graduate (later this WEEK), and...THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN Airplane! IS NUMBER 10? You CANNOT be seri...yeah, OK, you know where I’m going.

Anyway. Yeah, so, maybe AFI has Oscar syndrome, because that’s a little bullshit. So, uh...how about the BBC? In 2017, they asked 253 film critics ACROSS THE GLOBE what the best comedy of all time was, and number ONE was Some Like it Hot. Other than beating Airplane! again, it also beat Groundhog Day, Monty Python’s Life of Brian and Monty Python and the Holy Grail, This is Spinal Tap, The Big Lebowski, and His Girl Friday, and...well, every comedy you can think of. This movie CANNOT be that funny.

...Can it?

But there’s more to this film than that. Apparently, it was made without the approval of the MPPDA, which means that it wasn’t Hays Code adherent! Damn! In fact, this film was partially responsible for its collapse about 6 years later! But what is the Hays Code? Well, briefly covered, it was a set of standards laid out by Will Hays and his Motion Picture Produces and Distributors of America, or the MPPDA. It was enforced in the mid 1930s, and stood firmly in place until 1968, when it basically disappeared.

So, what are these standards? Well, there are a lot, but in a nutshell:

No cursing or taking the Lord’s name in vain in any way.

No nudity, real or suggested. And sex is kind of OK, if consensual and between a man and a woman ONLY. But, they can’t be in bed together, and they can only kiss one time, IF one of them isn’t a villain.

No weddings, no wedding nights, and barely any reference to marriage.

No prostitution, or what was called “white slavery”. Yes. Really.

Oh, also, no weird race-mixing stuff. What’s a “civil rights”?

Buuuuuuut...don’t insult any races either. Of course, considering the time period, “insult” or “offense” is probably subjective, so...fuck that, I guess.

PRIESTS ARE HOLY AND CANNOT BE MOCKED

No guns, fire, American flags, murder, smuggling, drugs, hanging, electrocution, or...law enforcement?

No childbirth, seen or inferred, and no naked kids. I mean...that’s common sense, to be completely fair.

NO RACE-MIXI-oh. Oh, I said that already, didn’t I? Well, OK, I’ll pare it down a little. They can’t have sex, but I guess...looking at each other is OK? Yeah, yeah, we’ll go with that. I’m progressive!

That about covers it. And this movie wasn’t adherent to it? Oh...well, I am excited! Let’s jump right in! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

The whole thing starts with a bang; literally. It's Chicago in 1929, smack dab in the middle of the Prohibition Era, and a group of gangsters are smuggling some alcohol inside of a coffin, while riding in a hearse. The cops aren't fooled, ad a shootout takes place between the gangsters and the cops, but they eventually drop off as the group takes the coffin into a funeral home. At the funeral home, a man named “Toothpick” Charlie (George E. Stone) meets with Mulligan (Pat O’Brien) a detective who’s got Charlie as his informant. With his help, he makes his way into the funeral home, actually a speakeasy in disguise.

Said speakeasy is run by “Spats” Colombo (George Raft), and within the speakeasy is a massive party, which the partygoers call a funeral. Spats arrives there shortly afterwards, and Mulligan watches all the while. Also at this party is a group of dancers accompanied by a band, which contains two partners, ladies’ man and sax player Joe (Tony Curtis) and anxious double bassist Jerry (Jack Lemmon).

The two talk about what they’re going to do with their upcoming paycheck, with Joe planning on using it for gambling on dog races. Jerry is understandably worried about this, as they owe rent, but Joe rattles off other things that he might was well worry about.

Suppose you got hit by a truck. Suppose the stock market crashes. Suppose Mary Pickford divorces Douglas Fairbanks. Suppose the Dodgers leave Brooklyn! Suppose Lake Michigan overflows.

Fun fact, though: the stock market’s about to crash in a year, Pickford and Fairbanks divorce in 1936, and the Dodgers left Brooklyn in 1957, famously. Lake Michigan has not overflowed...YET. It’s actually at record high water levels, and could cause flooding around it in the next few years. So, although those middle three were DEFINITELY part of the joke...that last one wasn’t at the time. Of course, it’s actually there as a line to set Jerry up with a way to tell him that the streets are “about to flood”, as he spots Mulligan and makes him. He tells Joe, and they both quietly pack up their instruments and leave, BEFORE the ruckus is about to begin.

And begin it does, and the cops raid the place almost immediately afterwards. As the party’s broken up and people are loaded into the paddywagon (Spats included), Joe and Jerry take their chance to escape behind the cops’ backs. However, this also means that the two musicians aren’t getting paid after all. Joe’s still set on betting money on the dog the next day, and get the money for the bet by selling their coats. However, while they do sell their coats, they instead end up looking for jobs at a local music agency, run by Sig Poliakoff (Billy Gray). 

The agency is recruited by band owner Sweet Sue (Joan Shawlee) and her nebbish band manager Bienstock (Dave Barry), as they need a bass and a sax player to replace two of their own, in their band in Florida. On hearing this from Poliakoff’s secretary Nellie (Barbara Drew), the two barge into the office. However, much to their dismay, the only ones they’re looking for are women. While Jerry tries to weasel their way in, it doesn’t quite work, and they instead take a job up north for a Valentine’s Day dance. The two go to a garage to borrow a car from Nellie in order to get to the job. There, playing cards, is Toothpick Charlie with a group of men. But then...somebody else arrives.

Spats and his men arrive at the garage, and tell all of the men to stand with their hands on the wall. Joe and Jerry, however, manage to hide in the garage. And if you know anything about Valentine’s Day during Prohibition Era Chicago...then you know exactly what’s about to happen to Toothpick and the guys.

After the massacre (based upon the real St. Valentine’s Day Massacre, Jerry makes a noise and alerts the gang to their presence. This is a problem, because Spats isn’t keen on the idea of witnesses, and immediately orders the musicians killed.With a distraction caused by the still-alive-but-dying Charlie, the two manage to escape Spats’ wrath. Now needing a fast way out of town, Joe figures out a plan. See, that job, the one from Sweet Sue, is in Florida, which is far enough away that they should be able to escape. But, uh...the band is only looking for women. And so...

This is the second most famous thing about the film. Meet Josephine and Daphne, the female aliases of Joe and Jerry respectively. As Jerry realizes the difficulties of the female wardrobe (namely skirts and heels), the two walk up to the band of women, known as “Sweet Sue and her Society Syncopators.” But they aren’t the only arrivals, and the other is the MOST famous thing about this movie...

This is Sugar “Kane” Kowalczyk, the lead singer, ukelele player, and...OK, look, it’s Marilyn Monroe, and I think I need to acknowledge this now. Marilyn Monroe is an underrated talent today, but she had a hell of a lot of potential as an actress and as an individual. She had a lot of troubles, and her early death by suicide is an absolute tragedy, no matter how you slice it. She’s a talented actress and singer, and she deserves recognition for that.

SHE IS ALSO INSANELY HOT I’M SORRY I’M WEAK

Look...it’s Marilyn fucking Monroe, OK? I know, I’m a straight cissexual man, but I wanted to make a point to acknowledge the fact that Marilyn Monroe is a talent far outside of her beauty and physicality. She (and all women) deserve that much, and deserve not to be objectified by the male gaze. I genuinely agree with this, and I do understand that concept. I’ll never personally understand the female experience, but it’s my responsibility and duty as an individual to understand experiences foreign to my own, including this one.

But DEAR LORD, her physicality is not easy to ignore, now and then! I mean COME ON! The woman’s considered a standard of classic beauty to this day by many (not by all, and not by herself), and it’s unfortunately her most famous feature to nearly everybody. But, of course, Monroe got a lot of grief for her looks as well (which is bullshit), and the stress of her life sadly led to her terrible suicide. But that doesn’t mean that her beauty inside and out shouldn’t be appreciated for what it is: beauty.

ALSO SHE IS DROP DEAD GORGEOUS I’M WEAK I KNOW

See, the train agrees with me! Oh...OH RIGHT, THE MOVIE! OK, where was I. Well, Joe and Jerry agree with me about Sugar Kane, but it is the 1950′s when the film is made, so of course they do. They watch her get on, and they follow suit, meeting the women of the band, and Sugar Kane. Sugar, see, has a teensy bit of an alcohol problem. That’s not necessarily to say she’s an alcoholic, but she is admonished for it by Sweet Sue and Bienstock, also being a repeat offender of drinking during working hours. That (and men) is something that Sweet Sue doesn’t tolerate.

She’s almost in trouble that night, when her flask falls from her stocking during a performance. However, Jerry covers for her, much to her appreciation. As they settle in for the night, all of the girls (including Joe and Jerry) sleep in the same cabin, much to the, uh, frustration of Jerry, despite Josephine’s urgings to keep it together. As Jerry continually reminds himself that he’s posing as a girl, he’s surprised that night with the appearance of Sugar, who comes to thank her for her help that night. Sugar tells “Daphne” that she owes her one, and also climbs into the cot with him to hide from Sweet Sue. Jerry...that poor mother fucker.

Well, Jerry tries to ease the tension by offering some of Joe’s whisky. But more of the girls overhear this, and eventually, a massive party erupts, with all the girls mixing drinks and sharing the single space of Jerry’s bed. Joe wakes up from all of this, and tries to help end the party, only for Sugar to climb out of it, and ask Joe for help with a block of ice for the drinks.

It’s here that she reveals that she used to work with men’s bands, but joined this band to get away from men. This is especially to get away from her weakness: tenor sax players. This intrigues Joe, the tenor sax player. However, she’s essentially sworn off of tenor sax players because of multiple bad relationships, and is instead hoping to find a millionaire in Florida, preferably one with a yacht. Meanwhile, Jerry’s bed is getting a little too full, and the girls are getting a little TOO familiar. They start to tickle him, and to prevent his cover being blown, Jerry pulls the train’s emergency brake. All of the girls scatter as the train stops, and they manage to get away with the party as Sweet Sue and Bienstock wake up only then.

The train gets to Florida, and the girls make their way into a hotel. As they check in, Jerry (as Daphne) is spotted by Osgood Fielding III (Joe E. Brown), a millionaire, and a man with eclectic tastes in women. And those tastes apparently include Daphne, as he unsubtly (and unwantedly) hits on her. And Jerry’s having none of it. After Osgood pinches him in the elevator, he gets off after slapping him. Unfortunately, that makes Osgood only want Daphne THAT MUCH MORE. This man...this man may just be the legendary alpha simp of which the stories tell.

Meanwhile, Joe manages to get ahold of Beinstock’s luggage and glasses. He steals his clothes (after fending off an overeager bellboy), and uses them to dress as a millionaire. Why? Why, to seduce Sugar, of course!

This is right at the halfway point, so we’ll pick this up in Part Two! See you there!

[gyllenhaalstories]

imagine taking rapper jake home to meet your parents.

i’m so sorry for the delay, anon! <3 buckle up, it got long and i’m emo!!!!! lil jakey jakes meeting your parents was not something i thought i’d cry about right now but here i am. i listened to nothing’s gonna hurt you baby by cigarettes after sex if you want to vibe with me!

<3

jake swore he was about to shit his pants when you reminded him of the dinner with your parents.

he ran all over his house, searching for nothing and everything at oncel. one second it was his tie, the next his phone and after that his keys. he was just so terrified. he wanted to leave a good impression.

he dressed up like he was going to the oscars. he put on a suit, a new one he got tailored to his body just for the occasion. he covered all of his tattoos, with those long sleeves. he hid his chain under the color of the shirt you buttoned lovingly. he went to the barbershop too, he got a fresh cut and his beard neat. he looked like a movie star and even if this was not the man with whom you fell in love, you still loved this new persona.

“you’re so stressed that i’m stressed” you’d scream at him while he paced around the bedroom as you put on a simple outfit, some jeans and a button up shirt too. dresses felt too formal. it was your parents, not the pope. “we’re not going. i’m calling them and i’ll say i’m sick”.

jake stopped moving and protested. “if i wanna ask your father for your hand, i better know how he looks like first. if he likes golf, i’m out”.

the joke was unexpected, but it made both of you laugh. he kept bringing up marriage. it was like a running gag, but it felt more and more real. one day you would be called mrs gyllenhaal. and this day would not happen if you died from a heart attack because you couldn’t face the judgement of your parents.

so jake waited for you in the car. he picked a black jaguar, he didn’t want to be too obnoxious. he had the head lights shining bright and blinked them so you pretended to walk like a model and twirl in front of the car before you sat on the passenger seat. “so fuckin’ gorgeous.” jake said and noticed you, too, wore the chain he got you for your birthday. he stretched his arm out to play with it lightly and then proceeded to drive to your parents’ house.

he stopped in the drive way. it was a tiny home, very old with a bunch of flower pots that were wrapped up for the winter. it was lovely already. jake stopped the car and took deep breaths.

“you sound like you’re about to get into labor”

“it’s a neat trick you’ll have to try it”

and you both breathed fast like two freaks in the car while the music was playing in the background. some U2 song. it calmed the two of you down. when you got out of the car, jake immediately grabbed your hand. he needed the comfort.

you were about to ring the door bell when your mother slammed the door open and wrapped you in a tight hug.

jake smiled and looked behind her. he waved at your father.

“mom, dad, this is my boyfriend, jake. jake, this is my mom and dad.”

“hi mom, hi dad” jake replied and it made the two of them laugh.

jake wanted to bring champagne and flowers, but you convinced him to not do too much. your parents were simple people. they would be happy as long as jake didn’t tease you from under the table (the jeans were definitely a good option) or mentioned politics. 

“our daughter has told us a lot about you” your mother said “yeah, we heard you are a singer? isn’t that the dream” your father added

“yeah.” jake smiled awkwardly and took a sip from the glass of water you both shared. you were sitting on his lap, on the love seat of the small living room. your parents asked him tons of questions. he answered them genuinely. he asked them questions too. he was relieved to find out your father preferred hockey to golf.

you sat around the table. it was weird that the fourth chair of the dining table was finally used.

none of your previous relationships lasted long enough to reach this level of intimacy. sex was one thing, but meeting your parents? that was a HUGE deal.

jake behaved like the best man in the world. he complimented the food. it was just simple spaghetti and storebought garlic bread. but it tasted like love and home. he asked for two other plates. your mom even reached to wipe his chin from the tomato sauce.

it filled him with joy. he had a tough relationship with his own family and he felt like he fit right in with yours.

you watched jake with heart eyes. he was so happy to explain his art and craft to your father who kept asking him if he had met blake shelton or the backstreet boys. you know, hip people. jake laughed and shook his head. he didn’t bother explaining that he sang about filthy things the two of you did. he was happy they considered his job as valid. he was not a carpenter or a doctor. but he was happy to spoil you nonetheless.

“you’re doing great” you’d whisper to jake.

everything was fine. until your mom pulled out the baby photos albums. THE SHAME.

“look at that tiny baby booty!” jake pointed and melted. “toohtless! that gums only look, can’t wait to see it again when we’re old and grumpy.” he pulled out a photo. you were wearing matching ugly yellow zipped hoodie and plaid pants. you were holding a teddy bear of the same colour as the one he got you for your birthday. behind the photography it was written happy y/n at the park with her best friend. he asked if he could keep it. your parents agreed. (it was his phone home screen from now on, your lock screen being a post sex glow photo when he could see a tiny drop of cum at the corner of your eye, it was still cute to him). “so she’s always been bad at cooking?” he said and laughed when you found a picture of you and your grandparents where you held a plate of burnt cookies. “hey, not cool! i was only seven!” you pushed him gently. “look at you now, you burn bread in the toaster”. your parents were the ones who melted now.

“so, jacob...”

jake insisted that it was fine your father called him by his full name.

the two of you were so stressed out. the tone of your father’s voice was suddenly heavy and scary.

“yeah?”

“does it hurt to get tattoos?”

jake squinted and you coughed loud enough to cover the whispered what the fuck that came out of his open mouth. his sleeves were rolled up and exposing the ink. “i mean, yeah, it hurts a lot. it’s worth it though. i feel like an art collector.”

“in my young days, i’ve always wanted a tattoo. i got the concept. this lovely lady as a pin up girl, quite impressive, huh?.” he winked at your mom who blushed while you tried everything you could not to throw up.

jake rolled his sleeve a little higher and pointed at a spot near the veins of the inside of his arm, close to the elbow. he got the outline of a heart tattooed. you noticed how wobbly the lines were, that’s because it was the heart you always drew at the end of your notes that you left him when you were gone or when he was out working. “that’s my favourite.”

THE WAY YOU JUST BURST INTO TEARS and your mom shouted “time for dessert!”

great timing.

“our daughter told us you loved m&m’s”.

jake turned to look at you. you shrugged.

your mother came back with chocolate cake on which she had sprinked crushed m&m pieces on the frosting.

jake asked to get the biggest slice. “that’s the best fuckin’ cake i’ve had in my whole life.” (which was a lie because the best cake was your ass but details) he said, his mouth full. your mother laughed and your father agreed. they began talking about hockey when your mother asked for your help in the kitchen.

“if we learned anything from you,” she started and handed you a plate to dry. you hated to do the dishes, especially if you were to be lectured like a child. “it’s to never judge people by their covers. we love jake. he’s good to you. you’re good to him.”

you hugged your mom and the two of you cried so loudly that jake dropped his spoon. he thought something bad happened. that you cut yourself with the butter knife or something.

“welcome to the family, jake.” your father squeezed jake’s shoulder as you walked back to him to press a kiss on his cheek.

it was now time to leave, after hours and hours of anecdotes from your childhood or from the time you were convinced you’d marry brad pitt or when you put eyeshadow in your hair to act like you dyed them to be punk but it was raining that day and you came back looking like a sad frosty rainbow.

“you’re my favourite person.” jake told you when he gave you his vest as a coat. it was chilly outside.

you all hugged and shook hands, promising to come back soon for brunch. jake told them he’d make his famous pancakes.

“hold on!” jake exclaimed and pulled you by the arm. you followed him back in the kitchen and he fed you a spoon of the cake. you fed him one in return again. “tastes almost as good as your pussy” he whispered in your ear and kissed your chocolate covered lips.

you finally left the house, waving from the car at your parents who stood on the porch. they seemed satisfied. and you? you had never been more in love.

“can’t wait to rip those tight jeans off your body and fuck you like a bitch.” jake winked and started to drive away. “i’m looking forward to the toothless viagra boosted blowjobs too, that’s gonna feel divine.” 

you slapped his thigh and he moaned in pain. you rested your hand there and he brought it to his lips, planting a soft kiss.

“welcome to the family.” you repeated.