#and worse. so much space is being taken up by hobby stuff that i ended up dropping

[lokh]

cleaning up my room would vastly improve my mental health and productivity. unfortunately I would rather just throw everything in it away than have to actually sort and arrange it

[partofmycharm]

The Placeholder - Yautja x OC

Originally posted on AO3 under the same name.

A/N: Just something random that I came up with and thought would be fun to write. I also have a Predator/Alien server on Discord! We’re a very welcoming community and would love for you to join. 

Pairing: Yautja (Male) x OC (Female)

Word Count: 5916

Content Warnings: partner betrayal, depression, mentions of suicide, NSFW

Description: Beth hasn't had much luck with relationships. It gets worse before it gets better.

Aun'ta = (awn-tah) Ya'yti = (yah-yih-tee) Yithou = (yih-thow) s’he’ie-te u’sl-kwe = (seh-heh-ee-teh ooh-sel-kweh)

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Beth wasn’t stupid. She wouldn’t consider herself intellectually gifted, either. But she was emotionally aware and empathetic — she could read a room the moment she stepped into it.

So, it didn’t go over her head when she noticed the change in Aun’ta’s behaviour. It started small. He seemed peppier — not unusual, sometimes his moods fluctuated, and that was okay. Beth couldn’t exactly pinpoint the day his spirit lifted, but she did notice the gradual increase in effort. This, as a whole, was unsurprising. Recently, the clanship had been visited by a group of martial artists for a temporary program in which Yautjas and humans trained together, all in preparation for the Space Olympics the following year. Aun’ta loved hunting, and, naturally as the himbo that he was, he’d signed up for the program, for which he would dedicate three months of his time. He was partnered with an old hunt brother of his, from which he’d known since they were young, and they’d quickly rekindled their friendship. They worked together to teach two other humans, and it wasn’t nonsense to attribute his spike of energy to that.

Life in a clanship was boring. That, Beth could appreciate. She had joined four years ago under the health program as a Medic Assistant, two of which she’d spent in a relationship with the male Yautja. Aun’ta. He wasn’t exactly the smartest. The best he could do was hit two rocks against each other and figure out it makes sound (Beth would never say that to his face because, alas, she loved him). It wouldn’t be necessary to say anything, however, because Aun’ta knew he’d never been built for any of the complicated clan jobs. He’d taken a fancy to the Arbitrator title, and he’d been pursuing it for as long as he could remember, even if he didn’t really understand the full details of what it entailed. As a result, the most he contributed to the clan was food, as he spent most of his time hunting and honing his skills. With experience came wealth, however, and Aun’ta was lucky enough to trade a lot of the stuff he’d accumulated for the bigger and better. But when he met Beth, his trips became less and less frequent. The last time he’d left the clanship was seven months ago, and Aun’ta was bored.

Beth had encouraged him to take up any of the less complicated jobs. She suggested being a temporary caterer, clothesmaker, blacksmith, anything! She’d even pushed for him to enquire about becoming an Assistant Medic. But he refused! He liked nothing else but the hunt, and he didn’t really have any hobbies besides sex and beating up other Yautja in the kehrite. Beth had given up in the end. Aun’ta was stubborn. His skull was thick. So, when this new program came into talks, they were both ecstatic about the opportunity. Peppiness at this time wasn’t suspicious.

It did become a little strange when Aun’ta grew cuddlier at night. Beth wasn’t opposed to this; he just wasn’t a touchy-feely male. It was different. But perhaps the shakeup of routine had invoked an inspiration for a personality change. And, besides, Aun’ta was large and warm, perfect combinations for sleep, and Beth found herself melting into his embrace every night.

Sometimes shifts as an Assistant Medic were long. The clanship was massive, there was never an empty day, but this particular one had seen quite a few Unbloods. There had been a brawl, and Beth was the lucky assistant to get stuck with the aftermath — lots of blood, bone, and open flesh. The Yautja Medics had also been quite unhappy with this development, as it was the time of the season for the females to start giving birth. They took priority, so it was obviously an annoyance for the invasion of immature, raucous males complaining about their losses. But they weren’t the worst. It was the Unbloods who preened with their chests puffed, the ones who thought their shit didn’t stink because they beat up a fellow child. Most of them refused to get treated because they didn’t want to lose any ‘battle scars’. Whatever. Beth just pretended she didn’t hear them purring to her.

It was a late finish that day. When Beth arrived at their shared room, Aun’ta was already there. That wasn’t a surprise. But it was the first time they didn’t have sex before sleeping, and Beth had told herself it was because she was tired, and sex was the last thing on her mind after the last few hours of chaos. It didn’t hit her until reflection that she realised he hadn’t even tried to initiate anything.

Eventually, sex became a scarcity. And that’s when Beth started to become suspicious. Love blinded people, and she felt nauseous when she realised how much the rose-tinted glasses stayed on. There was a brief period where Beth worried she wasn’t appealing to him anymore, but those washed away when they coupled on the day that had them stuck in their room together, with nothing to do.

With so many individuals on a clanship, most jobs were demanding and busy. Stress was no stranger, and Beth felt it throughout the birthing season. As a mere assistant, she couldn’t do much, but the days were jam-packed, and the clan welcomed over thirty new pups, pure blood and hybrids alike. Beth loved her job, and even though the long days exhausted her body and mind, she’d been talking with the Head Medic about promoting her. Of course, it would entail a lot of study, but Beth was willing to sacrifice an arm and a leg to become a qualified Medic — that alone could even allow her to work as a doctor in human hospitals, the opportunities for these positions new after the alliance recognised and allowed credit for prior learning. This prospect was probably the biggest news she’d learned thus far in the past four years, but she couldn’t share the excitement when she left to retire for bed that night. Aun’ta was growing more and more distant, becoming quieter, and he’d blamed it on the stress from his rigorous schedule (he trained for only half a day cycle, and never more than five cycles in a row).

Beth could empathise. But she wasn’t stupid.

They were almost strangers now. They slept in the same nest, and lived in the same room, but they hardly acknowledged each other anymore. When Beth woke up, Aun’ta was gone. He came back later in the night cycle, sometimes he never returned at all. And when the rose-tinted glasses finally fell off, Beth could see the situation in its entirety. It would take a fool to not see what was happening, and the very idea opened chasms in her heart.

It was a lucky day when Yithou came into the medbay. He was Aun’ta’s old hunt brother, the one who he’d recently rekindled his friendship with. Beth was cleaning the surgery tools from their previous patient when Yithou entered for a bone resetting. While Yautja were taught first aid, they never learnt much beyond that unless they wanted to become a Healer. It wasn’t necessary for them. Emergency first aid was essential during the hunt, anything beyond that could be life-threatening, even if it was easily treated by trained professionals. And besides, resetting bones was actually harder than it seemed, and many injuries had occurred from stupid people thinking they could lend a helping hand. The worst thing for Yithou was getting someone like Aun’ta to reset it for him.

When Beth knew Yithou was treated and recovered, she slyly stood by him before he was signalled to leave. “So, how’s the program going?”

“Better than expected,” Yithou said.

“You’re partnered with Aun’ta, correct?” Beth asked. She sprayed the medical tools with an antibacterial cleanser.

“Yes. And with two ooman females.”

Beth’s face remained placid. “So he told me,” she lied easily. “Are they nice?”

“Stubborn,” Yithou said. “Rude.”

“Well, Aun’ta seems to think otherwise. He’s taken a special liking,” Beth said casually.

“You know of their relations?” Yithou cocked his head.

Big, beefy, and brainless. There was a small demographic of them on the clanship. It seemed like-minded individuals attracted like-minded individuals.

Beth smiled. “You knew they were together?”

“Yes.” Yithou cocked his head to the side. He looked her up and down. “I am sure you will find a more worthy male.”

“I’m not counting on it.”

Beth was thankful Aun’ta never returned home that night. It gave her extra time to think of what she would say to him, and extra time to cry alone in the washroom without worrying about intrusions. She’d suspected as such in the beginning when his cuddliness had bordered excessive. The thoughts had been fleeting but loud, watered like seeds even more so when the wall began to build. Beth thought herself to be confident, however, she couldn’t help but reflect critically upon herself. Perhaps she’d been the problem. Perhaps she’d been too boring.

The dejection didn’t last long; it eventually paved way for deep-rooted anger, nursed by the inner turmoil that stormed Beth’s insides. She’d put up with Aun’ta’s sorry excuse of an ass for two years now — from his tumultuous mood swings and incessant need to speak only of his adventures (while impressive, they grew repetitive, and there was only so much someone could milk their own ego). His personality was as bland as a bowl of white rice, and Beth had fallen head over heels for the only male that had ever shown an interest in her.

But the longer Beth sat with those thoughts flitting back and forth in her mind, she realised that could have just been the anger talking. Aun’ta had been good in the beginning. He’d gifted her skulls, while scary at first, the gesture had become endearing when she’d learned the meaning. He’d been affectionate, with those gentle grazes here and there that she craved towards the end. They’d ridden on a high for the first few months of their relationship, and Beth had quickly grown addicted to the feelings that blossomed in her chest when she was around him.

But it always came back to Aun’ta’s ‘house arrest’, self-imposed, for the most part. Beth had never asked him to abandon the hunt and his chase for the Arbitrator title, though he hardly seemed worthy of it now. But she had always felt there was a level of resentment on Aun’ta’s behalf, and the very idea made Beth see red. Even more so now, in hindsight.

It was halfway through the next day when Aun’ta finally returned. He wore nothing but an unwashed loincloth that Beth swore he’d worn last week. That was something that had always irked her — his laziness. As someone who thought his shit didn’t stink, everything else sure did. Not literally, but Beth had been confounded when she’d learned not all Yautja shared the same hygiene habits. Again, rose-tinted glasses.

“I wasn’t aware the program ran overnight,” Beth said from her position on one of the lounging seats.

Aun’ta paused in the middle of the room. “Sometimes the humans request extra training. It can run overtime.”

“Oh, yeah?” Beth asked casually. “What kind of moves are you teaching each other? Missionary, cowgirl, or doggy style?”

Aun’ta straightened. “Speak plainly,” he said.

“Cut the dominance bullshit.” Beth scrunched her nose in disgust. “Only a coward would go behind their mate’s back.”

“I am no coward,” Aun’ta barked immediately. His chest puffed out at the insult, at the mere insinuation that he was less than a capable, honourable male. He was going to become an Arbitrator, and Arbitrators weren’t cowards.

“You haven’t proved to me otherwise, since you don’t even have the guts to tell me what the fuck’s going on,” Beth said. She could feel her own anger resurfacing, the remnants that had bubbled and boiled for hours before they cooled. The flames had been ignited again, however.

“If you so wish,” Aun’ta said. “I have been waiting for the right time to inform you that I wish to no longer be mates. I have found a female who I believe to be my life-mate.”

That felt like a punch to the guts. No, several punches. Beth tried her best to keep a placid expression despite how winded she felt. Her mouth went dry almost immediately, and though she wished to not clue him in on how she felt, she knew that Aun’ta could taste the change in pheromones immediately.

“Life-mate?” Beth asked. It seemed to be the only words she could speak at that moment. Her mind and heart were racing, and she felt like she couldn’t get a grip on any sense. Aun’ta had never even uttered that term before, and while Beth was familiar with it, she had been naïve to assume… that, well, perhaps he viewed her as that.

“Yes.”

So simple, yet it felt so cruel.

Beth tried to think of something to say, but she couldn’t find anything that was appropriate. After a few seconds of staring down at the floor in an attempt to regather her thoughts, she looked back up at Aun’ta, who stared with such little regard in his eyes it scared her. “So, what about me? The two years that we spent together? It meant nothing to you?”

“You are… a kind female,” Aun’ta said slowly. “But I never felt you were my life-mate. I have found someone more worthy.”

Worthy?! There weren’t many words to describe how Beth felt — gobsmacked, blindsided; that was a good starting point. She knew he’d been cheating, but never in a million years could she imagine these words coming from his mouth. They felt to be more in affront, purposeful to rile her up.

“So, I was just a fucking placeholder for you until you found someone better,” Beth said quietly, more to herself than him. “Cool.”

“It is the Yautja way.” Aun’ta almost shrugged, but he stopped.

“No, Aun’ta. It’s your way.” Beth shook her head. She looked up at him after taking a few deep breaths. “And I’m not going to let you stand there and degrade me. I deserve better than that. Whether you like it or not, your actions are cowardly. No real male would feel the need to go behind someone’s back, and no real male would feel the need to use someone like this.”

Aun’ta sneered. “Then perhaps you don’t have what it takes to live among Yautja.”

He was just trying to offend her. Beth knew it was a self-preservation technique; he felt emotionally threatened, and that much was obvious to her. And though she wanted to play into his pathetic game and snap back, doing so would solve nothing. Beth sighed and stood up. “I thought better of you, but obviously I was wrong. That’s really disappointing.” There was a multitude of things she could say, and as much as she wanted to, there really was no point. Getting through Aun’ta’s skull was like getting through a brick wall with a needle. He had it coming to him — patience was a virtue.

As Beth started walking towards the door, Aun’ta flared his mandibles. “You are best to take your—”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Beth interrupted. While she wished she could slam the door shut, Yautja’s tended to build automatic sliding doors. It made for rather uneventful exits.

Beth had expected the transition to be easy — the past two months had entailed alienation between the pair of them. They had barely had a conversation, let alone touched each other in bed. But once the anger heightened and dissipated, she felt a particular sense of darkness loom over her head. Something heavy pinched her heart, and it seemed to weigh more with each passing day.

Her work performance suffered; the pungent permeation of her pheromones distracted a lot of the patients and the Medics. To the Yautja, human sadness smelt like a particular white plant that grew on their clan’s moon colony. When in bloom, it possessed a strong odour, while not wholly unpleasant and invasive on their olfactory senses, it smelt heavy and loaded with invocations of melancholy. Sometimes, when the plant was consumed during bloom, it invoked such intense feelings of misery that animals oftentimes committed suicide to end their suffering. The Yautja referred to this curse as s’he’ie-te u’sl-kwe, which, in English, translated as ‘to weave final rest.’

But Beth was of no curse, no s’he’ie-te u’sl-kwe, even if she smelt like it. This was a different kind of curse, one born of heartbreak and self-hatred. Though the Yautja had developed an antidote (necessary, of course, for the stupid Unbloods who thought it funny to consume the white plant as a challenge), this type of misery could not be cured with an antidote.

Beth had gathered her things from Aun’ta’s room when he was gone, and she’d been relocated to the small human quarters a few floors below. The room was tiny in comparison, more like a studio. It was different to fall asleep every night not being able to smell Aun’ta’s strange, alien scent. Like a brewery; cold alcohol with hints of coriander, strong and masculine. It had taken a while to get used to, but Beth had ended up liking the scent, and she always found herself falling to sleep wrapped in it.

Now, it smelt like… nothing. Her nose no longer buzzed with Aun’ta. It felt strangely empty. Beth tried very hard to remain angry at him, but she couldn’t help the heaviness that weighed her head and shoulders down.

It hurt even worse when she finally saw the woman that Aun’ta had left her for. A skilled martial artist, indeed, confident, perhaps a little too much. She was bossy, and arrogant, Aun’ta oftentimes found himself stumbling after her, left in the dust of her parade. She was cocky, and thought of herself too highly, heightened even more so when their relationship became public. It was distasteful behaviour; she thought herself superior for having a Yautja mate. And though Beth reserved judgment, she couldn’t help but laugh at her replacement.

Aun’ta had never been a chaser, but now he was scratching his head at his ‘life-mate’. He very quickly realised their incompatibility, but the sex had been all too appealing. Or perhaps it was the secrecy that made it fun, and while he’d felt a little guilty in the beginning, he rather enjoyed knowing something no one else didn’t. But entering a state of domesticity with her had brought out their flaws. Hell, the room hadn’t been cleaned since Beth left, and Aun’ta had started to feel icky in his own hide.

It wasn’t until about a month later that things started to really change for Beth. She had been more than disappointed to discover that Aun’ta’s new ‘life-mate’ had decided to stay after the program finished, and she’d finish up her Space Olympics training here, which, in turn, forced her instructors to remain on the clanship, too. But, alas, their paths never really crossed, so Beth had nothing to complain about beyond the fact that she was her replacement.

On one random cycle, a small group of Elders returned from a negotiations trip with another clan. Well, that’s what Beth heard, anyway, but she assumed two months was a long time for that sort of business. She didn’t really know how that stuff worked — her concern was in the medbay with the injured and sick.

Beth and Aun’ta’s mateship had been no secret, and their split hadn’t been, either. The sight of him with a new human female had turned a few heads, especially the Elders that had finally returned. One of them was Ya’yti, with a pebbled hide of liquorice brown and jasmine yellow, but his deep, dark green eyes were most capturing.

He was no stranger to Beth. She had never spoken with him directly, but she had often seen him around the clanship. Wherever she needed to go, he always seemed to be there. His gaze was capturing, alluring, intense, scarily so. Beth had always felt intimidated in his presence as if every bit of her was being scrutinised and picked apart just by him. There were times he’d seemed to linger in the medbay, often talking with the Head Medic in their native language, so Beth had easily assumed Ya’yti to be directly involved with the medical team.

So, it was a surprise when Ya’yti approached her when she was alone in the medbay the day after his arrival. He wore nothing but a black loincloth and his thermo-net, and Beth was immediately hit by his overwhelming scent. It was warm, earthy, like digging your toes into soil, with complements of burning sage, all of which permeated her pores and warmed her insides. Her extremities tingled, and her head felt fuzzy.

“Where is Aun’ta?” Ya’yti asked. Of course, that had to be the first thing he ever said to her.

Beth didn’t look at him as she continued her work, all the while trying not to get wrapped up in his scent. “Fucking his new girlfriend.”

Ya’yti clicked thoughtfully. He stood watching her for an extra second or two, before he grumbled the human equivalent of a hum and then calmly walked off. Beth only looked at him as the door soundlessly slid shut, and only then did she release the shaky breath she’d been holding.

She had expected that to be the end of it. Beth almost fainted in the middle of the corridor when Ya’yti stopped her the next day. He got onto one knee and bowed his head as he offered his most prized skull.

“For Beth,” he rumbled.

There were others watching, Beth was keenly aware. She was also aware of what the gesture meant, though she admitted it befuddled her. Ya’yti had never shown any interest in her before. Well, at least, to her knowledge. But she kept thinking back to how she felt the moment Ya’yti stepped into her vicinity. It was nothing she’d ever experienced with Aun’ta.

Beth accepted.

They moved slowly at first. Beth wasn’t really sure what they were to each other, she couldn’t really say she knew much about him. So, when he invited her for a night at the viewing port, she accepted again. It was a private, rounded room that allowed a front row to the breathless views space had to offer. Beth had never really taken the time to stop and appreciate the beauty around them, but she quickly grew to fall in love with the sights.

Ya’yti touched her for the first time that night. It was a mere caress on her face, so gentle and feathery, it was almost as if he was afraid of hurting her. He purred deeply that time, so different to Aun’ta, but Beth couldn’t deny it felt so right.

Meeting in the viewing port became somewhat of a normality. Nobody ever really ventured there; only a few times did another Yautja or human show up for some downtime. Beth learned a lot about Ya’yti. He didn’t tend to speak much, but he found himself talking more and more with each passing night. He’d been a renowned Hunter in his prime, and he’d been the clan’s most sought-after weapons maker. When he reached Elder status, he retired from those days, and he’d joined the clan council, where he worked for the better of his people. Beth had been surprised when he said that, no, he’d never been much of a Medic or a ‘Healer’ as the Yautja’s called them.

Anyways, there was a scary amount of intelligence that simmered within, the likes to which Beth found herself becoming attracted to. He was wise beyond comprehension; articulate in his words and thoughts. Ya’yti still enjoyed the occasional hunt, but he much preferred exploration, and taking advantage of everything life had to offer. He’d tried his hand at being a green thumb but found that plants often died in his care. He didn’t really know what he was doing wrong, but he swore he’d nurture one through its entirety.

“You are lucky. Ya’yti has never considered a female before,” the Head Medic mentioned one day.

“I never expected it to be me,” Beth said.

“He has liked you for a long time. You were just too busy with that lump of a male to notice.”

Surprisingly, Beth found herself quickly forgetting Aun’ta. She never really saw him anymore, anyway, and with Ya’yti, he grew to become somewhat of a distant memory. She felt things she’d never felt before, experienced things she’d never experienced before.

Those innocent, curious touches they shared became frequent. Ya’yti held her for the first time in the viewing port. He wasn’t buff like Aun’ta, but he wasn’t particularly lean, either (his thighs, though… they were another story altogether). His arms, with his defined, rippling muscles, encircled her smaller body so delicately, she felt like fine china. Beth had never really been held like this before, and she fell asleep with her cheek pressed to his warm chest, lulled by the rhythmic beating of his twin hearts. They fell silent that night, just enjoying each other’s presence. Ya’yti almost fell asleep, too, because, for the first time, he felt safe with someone else. He felt as if he could be loved by someone else; he could love someone else.

As imposing as Ya’yti was, he was a warm-hearted individual — for Beth, anyway. She felt confident enough to touch him, too. Grazes along his face; gentle caresses over his mandibles and tusks, eliciting soft, hypnotic purrs and half-lidded eyes. Curious explorations of each other’s bodies, following lines and curves of muscles and scars. Ya’yti would roll her hair between his fingers and then he would gently weave them between the strands and brush out any tangles before resting his palm against the back of her head. He’d become fond of hand-holding, the concept completely human and unnatural to him, but he felt closer to her when they did. His fingers often sought hers, and hers often sought his.

A month after he first courted her, Ya’yti held her in the viewing port. Stars twinkled, an expansive array with barely any space between them. In the distance, a blueish-magenta nebula, so very far away, leaving much to desire. Beth wanted to get closer, see it in its full glory. She thought this as she lay tucked into his side, her head on his chest. Ya’yti held her close, his other hand gently running up and down the side of her face. Affection had also been a strange concept for him, but it felt completely natural here, with her.

“My Beth,” Ya’yti said, quietly, as if afraid to disturb the peace.

“Yeah?”

“Come. Live with me in my quarters.” Ya’yti purred as if to drive the idea home. He’d mentioned once that, as an Elder, his quarters were larger, much more luxurious than those of lower status. He’d said there was plenty of space, especially if they wanted alone time, but Beth was sure she couldn’t get enough of Ya’yti, anyway.

Beth pushed herself up to look at him. She looked between his eyes, so beautifully green she found herself entranced every time she even so much as glanced at them. “You’re okay with that?” She asked, trying to hide her smile.

“Of course,” Ya’yti said. He brushed Beth’s hair behind her ear.

“Okay,” Beth whispered. Her fingers ghosted his lower mandible.

“I have one more question.”

“Yeah?”

Ya’yti took a deep breath, the likes of which fanned across Beth’s face. “Will you be my mate?”

This time, Beth didn’t even try to hide her smile. She pulled herself further up his body. “Of course,” she said. She pressed a soft kiss to his lower mandible, before moving up to his upper one and then the space between his eyes. Ya’yti sighed in contentment, the action encouraging a light purr that rumbled through both of their bodies.

Beth moved in the next day. And Ya’yti was right, his quarters were luxurious. Large, spacious, and even finely decorated. He had a particularly large nest filled with the softest of furs, a sizeable alcove in the floor that was their bathing chambers. It’d been decorated to resemble a natural pond, and the water was comfortingly warm. Ya’yti even had a kitchenette-like area in the corner of the main room, and another corner dedicated to his gardening. There was currently a rare plant he’d been trying to nurture, but the leaves were dying. Beth would fix that.

For the first time that night, their touches went further. Surrounded by the plushness of the furs Ya’yti had accumulated himself, they found each other in close embraces, hot breaths fanning over each other’s faces. Beth had never felt so tingly and warm, so safe in Ya’yti’s arms, the weight of his body pressing gently against hers. Her fingers threaded through his greying tresses; the warmth, fleshy protrusions squeezed softly in her grasp, encouraging shuddering growls from Ya’yti, and harsher bucks that drove him deeper inside her. Beth lifted her hips, pressing kisses to his mandibles as a moan breezed past her lips. His gentle thrusts slowly brought her to a cresting peak, a heat like no other building like a tight knot in her lower abdomen. Beth had never known sex like this; intimate, romantic, they came together as one. Their hands explored their bodies in a way they hadn’t before, and their tongues met in a passionate dance, tasting each other in ways neither had done so with anyone else. And when that tight knot finally snapped, and Beth quite literally felt a white glow encase her body, she vocalised his name and squeezed his tresses, her heart tattooing rhythmic affection, leaving a permanent place for Ya’yti in those chambers. And his beat similarly when he felt a tightening and tingling sensation, his thick ropes of cum filling her inner walls, blooming a hot, intense heat.

Beth had started studying. She was to become a Medic — a qualified Yautja Healer, a human doctor. She still worked part-time in the medbay to continue her contributions to the clan. Every day, she felt ever closer to Ya’yti, an experience she never quite had with Aun’ta. Months continued; she never saw him anymore. Beth was to be qualified in a few short years if she kept at that pace, Ya’yti took her to places she never dreamed possible, he made her gifts, she made him gifts, and they spoke of pups in the future. The scent of s’he’ie-te u’sl-kwe, while not exactly that, was only a distant memory.

It was one night Beth found herself alone in the viewing port. Ya’yti and the clan council were in a meeting with another clan, something to do with a trade route that had been recently disturbed by Bad Bloods. They were working together to rid of the problem, each side offering their best Arbitrators for the job. Ya’yti told her everything — there were no secrets between them.

That night, the door slid open. Beth would be lying if she said her heart didn’t stop when she caught Aun’ta’s reflection in the glass. He stepped down onto the padded platform she was on and sat just a few ways from her.

They were silent for what felt like an eternity.

“Beth,” Aun’ta eventually awkwardly acknowledged.

“Long time, no see,” Beth said lowly. She stared at the distant nebula, hoping that she could get lost in its beauty to avoid this conversation.

“I have been searching for you,” Aun’ta said. He wasn’t exactly a great conversationalist; Beth had quickly come to find out early in the beginning.

“Yeah? Your girlfriend know about that?” Beth asked.

Aun’ta flexed his mandibles in discomfort. “She is… no longer my mate.”

That’s unsurprising. Beth finally looked over at him — he appeared worse for wear. It was pitiful even glancing at him. “I thought she was your life-mate.”

“We are too different,” Aun’ta said. “She is leaving in a few cycles.”

“What does this have to do with me?” Beth asked. She dreaded the answer. She picked at the material of the dress Ya’yti had made for her.

“I was wondering if you’d like to move back in with me,” Aun’ta said slowly. “And try again.” He never met her eyes.

Beth exhaled quietly. She’d been expecting it. “No, thank you,” she said, though Aun’ta hardly deserved the pleasantries. “I’m with Ya’yti now.”

It was a surprise Aun’ta didn’t know that. Perhaps he’d been so caught up in his personal drama, he’d lost his awareness. At least the clan life wasn’t boring anymore. Or perhaps he did know, and he was just so self-entitled, he didn’t care. But when Beth closer observed him, she couldn’t exactly pin it on self-entitlement. It felt like desperation; a last claw at normality before giving up. He probably wanted his old life back, and any semblance of that would remedy the shame and self-hatred that bubbled like lava in his blood. He could have realised what he’d lost, but in that realisation, Beth had learned just exactly how unfair the relationship had been.

Nevertheless, she wasn’t an ornament he could put on his trophy wall when he wasn’t interested. That was the problem with Aun’ta, and at least this way, he could learn a very important life lesson. Karma always made its deliveries, sometimes faster than expected. Beth wasn’t complaining, she just wished he saw her as more than a trophy. A living, human being, with thoughts, feelings, likes and dislikes, goals, and family, and friends. It wasn’t a matter of love, it was a matter of respect, to which Beth quickly realised, she would receive none.

Aun’ta never responded. He kept his head lowered. Beth eyed him for a moment longer. “You’ll find someone one day, Aun’ta,” she said quietly. When he didn’t respond again, Beth pushed herself to her feet.

The male quickly rumbled a response. “What if I don’t want someone else?”

“You will,” Beth said. She trusted Aun’ta would learn to let go as she had. It was never an easy process, another trial to overcome. But through that, Beth had found Ya’yti. And though she despised what Aun’ta put her through, harbouring animosity was a sure way to ensure the mind never healed. “I wish you the best, Aun’ta. You still have so much to live for.”

Aun’ta would never respond. He kept his head low, and Beth took this as her cue to leave. Ya’yti would have finished his meeting by now, and she wanted to see him before they slept. He probably hadn’t eaten much the last half of the cycle, so she could make him something to eat and then, whilst he held her in bed, he would tell her of his day, and she would tell him of hers. And while it seemed boring to others, Beth couldn’t help but feel as if she was floating.

And though Beth thought she’d moved on, leaving the viewing port that night after her brief conversation with Aun’ta helped her feel as if she was truly walking away from that aspect of her life forever. Aun’ta would live to move on, to achieve what he wanted, and Beth would, once again, go home to Ya’yti, her real home, to achieve what she wanted, with her life-mate.

Aun’ta would never respond. He kept his head low, and Beth took this as her cue to leave. Ya’yti would have finished his meeting by now, and she wanted to see him before they slept. He probably hadn’t eaten much the last half of the cycle, so she could make him something to eat and then, whilst he held her in bed, he would tell her of his day, and she would tell him of hers. And while it seemed boring to others, Beth couldn’t help but feel as if she was floating.

And though Beth thought she’d moved on, leaving the viewing port that night after her brief conversation with Aun’ta helped her feel as if she was truly walking away from that aspect of her life forever. Aun’ta would live to move on, to achieve what he wanted, and Beth would, once again, go home to Ya’yti, her real home, to achieve what she wanted, with her life-mate.

[365days365movies]

May 9, 2021: A.I. Artificial Intelligence (2001) (Recap: Part One)

Welcome to the future.

At this point, we’ve mostly looked at the past, present, or the near-future (as in, the next ten years, if that). Additionally, we’ve looked either at nonexistent technology in a contemporary setting, or an extension of existing technology taken to a logical next step. But no more. No more realism, no more real-world rules, and nothing that we’re even close to in this reality.

Well...mostly.

That’s genuinely impressive, not gonna lie. Anyway, yeah, from here forwards (for a bit), we’ll be looking at the future and futuristic technology. Now, there are a couple of ways in which these films tend to go. The first big way that we tend to represent the future in film is the same way we always have: flying cars, futuristic technology, smart houses, and robots.

Now, there are countless examples of this future, and it always changes a bit depending on the present. Which, yeah, makes sense. After all, what I’m doing right now, at this moment, would’ve been seen by many people as a massive technological achievement, even around the time that I was born. Which, yes, I’m old, deal with it (because I can’t). Anyway, the way that this begins is with the first major filmed view of a seemingly idyllic future: Fritz Lang’s 1927 film Metropolis.

The overly mechanized (and politically dystopic) society seen in this film, as well as the visuals and technology, would inform our ideas of the future throughout the next century. Multiple themes and common objects reoccur throughout futuristic fiction. You know the stuff I’m talking about. Flying cars, automatic food machines, robotic assistants, video watches, holograms, jetpacks, so on and so forth.

But here’s the thing about the future. It’s always ahead of us, and eventually...well, we’ve gotten to most of those things to some degree. Either they already exist...

...or is currently being developed.

Well, one of them we’re still working on. And the development of more advanced AI is something we have yet to perfect, or even fully develop. However, the development of A.I. (and the consequences of that technology) are ALL OVER science fiction. Sometimes, they’re merely used for flavor to help establish the futuristic setting.

Sometimes, they’re characters with their own agency and conflicts, which may or may not define the plot. In these cases, they’re often simply there to back up the main human characters, and help with their development, and sometimes their own. You know, manic pixie dream robots.

And then, possibly most often, they’re the abject villains of the piece. they can be mysterious alien technology, like in The Day the Earth Stood Still, or a man-made danger that turns on the race that created and/or abused it.

But then, on occasion, an A.I. is given the chance to develop as a character, without being used to define the development of a human character. Sometimes, the question of what life truly means is raised through these characters, and we become attached to them outside of any other character. This isn’t nearly as common as the others, but it’s definitely not unheard of.

And for the record...things don’t often go well for those AIs. But still, some of those characters have quite a lasting impact. So, there’s quite a lot of potential for this type of character, from a dramatic standpoint. And that potential leads us to the guy who made this.

I WILL MAKE A JURASSIC PARK REFERENCE AS OFTEN AS POSSIBLE

Steven Spielberg gives us today’s entry, and this director of a classic science fiction story about science gone awry teamed up with the director of a science fiction film where an artificial intelligence went awry. You know, this thing.

I didn’t forget about HAL. And I won’t forget about him later, either.

Director Stanley Kubrick is pretty well-know for his mind-bending films, especially The Shining and 2001: A Space Odyssey. But he also worked with Spielberg on this film before his death in 1999, as this was one of his dream projects for many years, and the two directors were well-known friends.

And so, eventually, Spielberg was given the reins from Kubrick, and results were...mixed. It’s funny, because I’ve never actually seen this movie, but I remember it through its surprisingly widespread ad campaign. I used to go to NYC as a kid a lot, and there was a massive building-side plastered with the iconic logo of this movie. So, I’ve been hovering around this movie for a long time. Enough navel-gazing!

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (Part One)

It is, unsurprisingly, the future. A marrator informs us that climate change has caused the ice caps to melt, and global flooding drowns several countries. You could say that it’s a...Waterworld.

I genuinely considered watching that movie at some point, and then I decided I liked myself to much to watch 2 hours of Kevin Costner’s emotionless acting. Granted, it’s not much better now, listening to the emotionless acting of...

Professor Allen Hobby (William Hurt) is a straight-up sociopath. OK, technically, he’s a robotics engineer, but dude’s making a speech, right? He talks about how far robots have come, dissing my boi Deep Blue in the process, and notes that pain-memory response can also be demonstrated by robots. He proves this by stabbing a woman in his audience, like RIGHT through the hand. Jesus, man! Why the hell would you do that?

Oh. Holy shit, I got fooled. Advanced technology indeed. But OK, so Sheila’s a robot, and a very advanced one...to us. But Hobby wants more, and proposes to his workers to make a robot that can really TRULY love. And through love may come a true subconscious, which means making a robot that can dream. And what better robot to make than a robot child? After all, all child conception requires a license in this futuristic world, so many childless couples are yearning for a child.

Which is why, twenty months later, the first robot child is offered to Henry and Monica Swinton (Sam Robards and Frances O’Connor), a couple...with a child. Um. Guys. You JUST SAID that there are legit childless couples who need a child, and those people would be best suited to love that robot child back (a VERY GOOD question raised by one of Hobby’s subordinates). So why give it to a couple whose son is still alive? Yeah, he’s got a rare disease that they don’t have a cure for yet, and is currently in cryostasis, BUT THEY HAVE A KID! Surely, that’s going to be a potential emotional conflict! And what if the kid wakes up or some shit? This is a TERRIBLE goddamn idea. Think this shit through, guys.

And yet...

This is David (Haley Joel Osment), Cybertronics’ first child robot, brought home by Henry to essentially replace their son. Which is AMAZINGLY FUCKING TONE-DEAF AND INSANE, GODDAMN. That’s extraordinarily messed up. And, for the record, I totally get what Spielberg’s going for, but Jesus Christ, man. This was a terrible way to go about this. And it gets fucking WORSE.

See, Henry (who actually works for Cybertronics) tells Monica that, once they sign the papers and complete the updates, David will imprint on them and see him as their true parents, loving them unconditionally. Which...yeah, fuck, that’s an entire DUMP TRUCK of ethics issues right there. And, while we’re at it, David is...creepy as shit. I mean it, dude, Haley Joel Osment is a VERY good child actor, but he’s laying on the creepy robot child thing THICK. And yeah, this is BEFORE he imprints on them. Jesus fuck, man, there’s a scene where the still uncomfortable Monica is outside of a glass door, and he looks back at her THROUGH THE DOOR like a goddamn SERIAL KILLER.

And I gotta tell ya, dude does not lay off that creepy-ass dial one iota. And for that matter, the music by John Williams ISN’T FUCKING HELPING. LISTEN to this shit, and imagine a robot child that you don’t know wandering around your house. It’s amazingly fucking creepy.

AND IT JUST. KEEPS. GETTING. WORSE. There’s a scene where they’re all at dinner, right, and David’s just staring at them as they eat, mimicking their actions. After all, he’s a robot, he can’t actually eat or drink anything because of his internal working. And then, out of FUCKING NOWHERE, he starts laughing like the FUCKING JOKER, and it scares the EVER-LOVING SHIT OUT OF ME. And somehow, they laugh alongside him, in the never-ending Stockholm syndrome that is this movie! And as soon as its over, he just STOPS laughing, spontaneously. Fuck me, man, I’m tempted to stop watching here and now, and I’m only TWENTY MINUTES IN! I need a fucking break.

And after that...OF COURSE she decides to activate his imprinting protocols to make him, let me remind you, LOVE HIM FOREVER! She reads out a series of words, and after “FREIGHT CAR”, he knows his mission is to kill the Prime Minister of Sokovia. But first, he’ll settle down and love Monica unconditionally (again, FOREVER), calling her Mommy and making me shit my pants in fear. IT WASN’T ME, IT WAS FUCKING DAVID

Oh, and by the way, isn’t it kinda shitty to do that without Henry being involved AT ALL? Like, cool, he has unconditional maternal love, but Henry wasn’t a part of that conditioning at all! And he still refers to him as “Henry” instead of Dad! However, Henry definitely doesn’t care about that, because he still sees David as only a robot. Hey, guys, maybe using these two as your first experiment with a robot child WAS A TERRIBLE FUCKING IDEA, YOU IDIOTS! No wonder William Hurt was cast as Thunderbolt Ross in the MCU. Already shown he can play a character with shitty ideas before.

Anyway, after this terrible series of events, David prevents the parents from leaving one night due to his childlike antics. When Monica goes to comfort him, he asks how long she’ll live, and tells her that he hope she never dies, a COMPLETELY NORMAL THING TO SAY. Look, I get that he’s a robot, but only a goddamn emotionless sociopath would program emotional responses like this into a robot. Which, given what we’ve seen of Hobby, makes sense.

In response, she gives him Teddy (Jack Angel), a technologically advanced teddy bear with sentience, a personality, and the voice of Astrotrain from The Transformers TV series. Because, yes, I am THAT MUCH of a goddamn nerd.

Soon after, the house gets a phone call, which David receives...literally. He takes the phone and allows it to speak through him. It turns out that, shock beyond shocks, THEIR SON IS CURED! Yeah, fuck. Maybe giving David to a family with a STILL LIVING SON is a fucking ABSOLUTELY TERRIBLE IDEA, for about a thousand reasons.

And, fucking understandably, Martin Swinton (Jake Thomas) is a little upset to find out that he’s essentially been replaced by a robot kid. Although, to be fair, he’s also kind of a dick to David, holding his humanity over him and treating him as a toy that he attempts to manipulate and bully. My Lord, this is a massively stupid idea. And Martin immediately shows his dickishness by asking his mother to read Carlo Collodi’s The Adventures of Pinocchio to them. Which is meant to be a punishment for Pinocchio. However, of course, David loves it.

Still, however, there’s trouble in paradise for David, as he tries to compete with Martin for being a real boy, and eats spinach at dinner one evening. Despite Teddy’s mildly ominous warning to him (”YOU WILL BREAK”), he keeps eating until he basically has a stroke and breaks, forcing him to be repaired by some of Cybertronics’ technicians. Monica has a bit of a break down as a result, which Martin notices. This causes Martin to go pure supervillain, manipulating David to do creepy things in order to insert doubt into Monica about David. Jesus, Martin’s a creepy kid, too. No wonder Monica grew to be cool with David, her actual son is a FUCKING SOCIOPATHIC MONSTER! Are there ANY truly normal people in this world? IS THIS WHAT THE FUTURE IS?

Martin convinces David to cut a lock of Monica’s hair while she’s sleeping. And lemme tell ya, a little boy holding scissors over someone while they sleep is not exactly comforting. Henry agrees, and after stopping him, believes that they need to return him. Monica disagrees, knowing that they’ll destroy him if brought back. But David, ever the semi-sociopath himself, ignores any signs of humanity in David and dismisses Monica's feelings for him entirely. He also says this thing about “IF HE CAN BE PROGRAMMED TO LOVE, CAN NOT HE BE PROGRAMM-ED TO HATE?”, which...no. No, he cannot. He didn’t learn to love, he was programmed to. And, again, that’s ethically FUCKED, but taking that into account...no. HE WASN’T PROGRAMMED TO HATE, HENRY. Goddamn, buddy, use your head here.

It’s Martin’s birthday, and his friends at the pool party expose David to the fun world of anti-robot (or Mecha) racism, and test to see if he has Damage Avoidance Systems by threatening him with a knife. And he does. Buuut, when those systems kick in, he goes to the nearest point of safety to keep himself safe. That point is, unfortunately, Martin, whom he gets behind...and accidentally drags into the pool.

Thing is, because of Martin’s recent illness, he can’t exactly swim, meaning that David almost drowns him. When Henry and other partygoers go to save him, they abandon David in the pool completely. And now, David’s fucked. Because although this situation isn’t even a little bit his fault, he also just nearly killed Martin. And so, after seeing notes that he’s been writing to her, Monica offers to take for a “ride in the country”. Which definitely means something good. In reality, she’s planning on taking him back to Cybertronics. But once in the car, there’s a change in plans. And hear me out...it’s arguably far more horrifying.

She decides to abandon him in the woods completely, despite how hard it is for her to leave him. She’s sparing him from death, sure, but also throwing him into a world he doesn’t understand, and for reasons that he doesn’t understand. It’s genuinely terrible. And then...yeah, she leaves him forever, to an uncertain future.

End Act One.

I think this is a good place to stop. It’s early, and I need more coffee to handle this shit. See you in Part Two. Of Three. Yup. It’s a long one.

[anamatics]

Send a ship and I’ll tell you who: Fleurmione 🥺

Here have some stuff form the Teenagers Universe, some spoilers as this is mostly set in the aftermath as that’s what I’m writing now. Slight CW for dealing with the aftermath of trauma.

Gives nose/forehead kisses

Probably Fleur, she's the more affectionate of the two of them, but when Fleur dozes off in the middle of a translation, half-read books of runic poetry scattered across the desk and crumpled bits of parchment scatted on the floor. Hermione drapes a blanket over Fleur's shoulders and gently shakes her awake. "Come to bed," she says. She bends and presses her lips to Fleur's forehead. "The runes will still be there in the morning."

Gets jealous the most

Jealousy was reserved for that one time that Hermione had a maybe-almost-something with Pansy that blossomed into what even Fleur agrees is one of the healthiest friendships either of them has. And besides, Hermione had that mortifying moment with Professor McGonagall that was, well, enlightening for everyone. When Pansy finds out about that during a party she laughs for a good ten minutes before giving Hermione a slow once-over and announcing, “I stand by my point about degenerates and nerds from fifth year.”

Hermione doesn’t hex her, but it’s a close thing.

Picks the other up from the bar when they’re too drunk to drive

So maybe Ron splitches himself once too many, and Hermione’s started to just take the night tube back to White City. It’s easier, honestly. Living in a space that straddles both muggle and wizarding London has left her so accustomed to occupying both spaces that it seems the natural option. When she and Fleur get caught in the turnstiles, and neither of them can quite get their oyster cards to read, they realize that they’re in their late thirties and probably should not be out so late when they have children waiting for them at home. But Pansy throws the best parties and the sitter’s agreed to stay late while they explain to the TFL attendant that they’re not too drunk to get on the train, and no one will get sick. 

Takes care of on sick days

Here’s the thing. Wizards don’t get sick the way muggles do, no, they have ailments of the wizarding kind that Hermione’s got no idea how to deal with them when she first encounters a case of dragon pox on her third day of residency at the Queen Vic’s A&E. She still gets headcolds and a flu shot every year because in the eyes of magic she’s more muggle than witch. Fleur attempts to make soup, and, despite Hermione having (relatively) mastered cooking, she’s still not the best at it. When she ends up disappearing for twenty minutes and coming back with a packet of instant noodles from the corner shop, Hermione just sniffles and smiles woozily at Fleur. “Hate that you can’t catch this.”

“I’d rather you didn’t catch it either,” Fleur replies. “Perhaps this is a lesson about refusing to take the floo or apparating to work?”

“I will die before I floo willingly and you like taking the train as much as I do.” Hermione takes the chopsticks offers her and sits up, frowning at the instant noodles. Even through her clogged nose, Hermione recognizes the scent of peppers. “The Korean one?”

“To clear your sinuses,” Fleur answers. 

Drags the other person out into the water on beach day

Here’s the thing, the water’s cold and Hermione isn’t going to just get in it without prompting. She’s brought a book to read, a fiction book. She’s taking a break from all the academic reading and reading a novel that Pansy’s recommended in the shy, hesitant way that Pansy does anything that matters. She’s been working her way through the wizarding classics, but this novel is new - just published. Pansy’d been insistent, and when it’d arrived in the post Hermione understood why. She’s not a fool, and she recognizes a pseudonym and a barely disguised dedication. 

Fleur’s standing by the water, ankle-deep in the chalk-colored water, waving at her. Hermione sets the book aside moves to join Fleur, their fingers tangling together as they wade out into the water, staring across the channel at the French coast. 

“I can’t believe she kept her hobby a secret,” Hermione comments. “Dunno how she has the time between doing all those proofs for work and taking care of the kids while Hannah works nights.”

“I think she wanted to impress up on the world that no one truly knows her,” Fleur answers. 

“Very Slytherin.”

“Quite.”

Gives unprompted massages

It used to be that touch was something they both craved, having spent so much of their early relationship apart. Now, when Hermione gets home at half ten from a shift at St. Mungo’s that turned into a shift and a half dealing with a magical catastrophe so bad that they’d had to call Andromeda back from Reading to even begin to make sense of what had happened. Near-fatal organ damage from accidental magic was something Hermione was used to dealing with, but this, threaded with something think and dark and particularly nasty that sat like oil amidst the child’s blood was not her area of expertise. She’s dead on her feet, and her patient is barely stabilized by the time she’s comfortable leaving. She collapses on the sofa when she arrives back at Catterlily Place, half asleep as she melts into the soft cushions. 

“How bad?” Fleur asks. She’s got her glasses perched on her nose and is already bending to pull Hermione’s trainers from her feet. Her fingers dig into Hermione’s sore, aching feet, and Hermione cannot say anything at all, knowing full-well that there’s a chance the patient won’t survive the night. 

“We had to call Andy back from Reading.”

“Oh, chérie.” Fleur’s hands still and she pushes herself to her feet, settling next to Hermione and wrapping her arms around Hermione’s shaking shoulders. “You are so, so good at what you do, Hermione. So is Madame Tonks. It’ll be okay.”

Drives/rides shotgun

“I think this is a threat to public safety,” Fleur says as Hermione adjusts the seat and fiddles with the height of the steering wheel. She walks around to the passenger side of their rented hatchback, and climbs awkwardly into the seat. “We could be killed in this deathtrap. We are witches. We do not have to drive anywhere.”

“Fleur,” Hermione says with grave seriousness. “Sometimes things that are easier... are worse.”

As they drive away from Reykjavik and into the Icelandic wilderness, Fleur’s breath catches and Hermione’s smile grows smug. This was going to be a fun holiday.

Brings the other lunch at work

It takes over a year for the goblins to allow Hermione back into Gringotts. She runs into Damien Betz when she’s ducking into Fleur’s office on the second floor with with a bag from Pret and two coffees during her lunch break at the Queen Vic. “Mademoiselle Granger,” Damien says. “Bonjour.”

“Salut Damien,” Hermione says. She tilts her head toward Fleur’s office door. “Is she in?”

He nods, but bends close. He’s clearly just had his line done, as it looks as though a razor has carefully sculpted the shape of his bangs against his forehead. “This morning,” he bites his lip, frowning, “didn’t go well.”

The Blakeley Vault has been a nightmare for the entire curse breaking team for weeks now. “I’ll bear that in mind,” Hermione says. “It was nice to see you, Damien.”

He waves his hand, and Hermione moves toward Fleur’s office with purpose.

Has the better parental relationship

When Paulie drops them back at the hostel, she again offers them a chance to stay at her place with her husband. “It’s no trouble, really,” she says. She drums her fingers on the steering wheel. “I know this hasn’t been an easy day - being surrounded by muggles,” she wrinkles her nose looking the hostel’s shabby exterior over, “does not sound like my kind evening.” 

In her distaste, Hermione is able to look through the haze of sadness that’s come over her to see Pansy in Paulie - the Parkinson upbringing creeping through despite the fact that this woman has a muggleborn witch as a mother, despite the fact that she’s helped Hermione undo all the damage she’s done to her parents, despite the fact that she’s being so kind to two complete strangers,  she’s still a Parkinson at heart. 

“It’s alright, Paulie, thank you though.” Hermione says. “I expect there will be a lot of days like this before things get better.”

Later, Fleur holds her and promises her that it will get better. “At least your mum can stand to look at you,” Hermione says through the tears. 

Tries to start role-playing in bed

“Grab the headboard,” Fleur says. Her hair is mussed, lipstick smeared across her cheek. They’d been out at a ministry function, but all it had taken was one lingering look from Hermione, her lips closing around the olive in her martini, to have Fleur pulling her into a darkened alcove and pushing her up against the wall. Hermione doesn’t mind when this part of Fleur comes out, the part that’s content to kiss her like she’s damnation and salvation at once. Hermione’s hands found their way under Fleur’s tailored jacket (she’d insisted on attempting a menswear look to compliment the dress Hermione’d found while out with Pansy and Ginny a few days back and the final product had Hermione’s mouth dry even before they’d left the house), and she’s whispering about finding somewhere more private. 

Hermione grabs the headboard, and Fleur’s straddling her hips, eyes dark and wild. Fleur reaches for her wand, raises an eyebrow. “Will you let go?” she asks. “If I say you can’t?”

Swallowing, Hermione shakes her head. “I won’t.”

But then Fleur’s using a severing charm on her dress, leaning over her with a sinful smile. She bends to kiss Hermione and the whole world is closing in on that one moment and Hermione can’t breathe, she cant--- When the world relaxes and Hermione’s body starts to untense, she’s sobbing, back in the terrible memory of that night at Malfoy Manor and Fleur’s gathering her up in her arms and apologizing over and over again. 

Embarrassingly drunk dancer

It takes nearly three years before Hermione is comfortable going to a club again. Being trapped in the dark, surrounded by people she can’t see, whose faces are obscured and then illuminated by flashing lights is enough to send Hermione into panics that last two or three days. So they go out to warmly lit pubs full of old men who look them over before shrugging and turning their attention back to their conversations instead. On a warm night, when they’ve shared a pitcher of Pims with Harry, Ron, and Ginny, Fleur gets to unsteady feet and asks Hermione if she’d like to dance to the song that’s playing lowly from the wireless in the corner. To her credit, she nearly manages to execute the proper steps to the dance before they tumble together, clinging to each other as they sway to the music.

“This is so disgustingly adorable I need to get a camera,” Pansy comments, sliding into the seat Hermione’s vacated. There’s a large diamond on her ring finger, which is, ostensibly, the reason they’re all out. Hannah didn’t wait long. She pours the remainder of the pitcher into the final clean glass, fishing out cucumber and crunching on it thoughtfully. “When are you two getting married?”

Hermione shrugs, and Fleur just laughs.

“I mean they sort of are married,” Ron says.

“Totally,” Ginny agrees.

Harry buries his head in his hands and groans. Pansy reaches over and pats him on the back before drawing Ginny into a conversation about the ring. Hermione rests her head on Fleur’s shoulder. “We should do that, you know.”

“Let Pansy have her fun,” Fleur says. She presses a kiss to Hermione’s forehead. “There’s a lifetime for us.” 

Still cries watching Titanic

They go to the cinema not long after the war ends, and Hermione very bluntly asks for the attendant what the longest film that’s playing’s run time is. They’re avoiding her parents, who are desperate to reconnect since she’s retrieved them from Australia, and avoiding Fleur’s, who’ve come across the channel to meet Hermione’s parents. When Fleur’s mother had summarily dismissed them as they all traipsed up from the basement dining room of the charming French restaurant near the National Gallery Hermione’s parents knew, they didn’t need telling twice. The conversation thus far had been mortifying, and they’re both eager to get away form the nightmare that is the combined powers of their parents. They offer to meet back up for tea in a few hours, and disappear off to the cinema, where they sit in the very back row leaning on each other and sob through the ending together.

Firmly believes in couples costumes

Hermione hates fancy dress parties and balls, but after the war they become all the rage within her friends group. Something about going out as someone else appeals to so many of them, as they’ve all been forced to be celebrities despite their best efforts to avoid the spotlight. Harry and Ginny always go as famous quidditch players with period-appropriate gear and think they’re terribly original. Hermione lets herself be talked into floor length gowns and togas and, one memorable time, a full pirate costume by Fleur. She wears what she’s told and when Fleur finds a way to use the costumes to drive her wild throughout the night with slips of skin and lingering touches, Hermione doesn’t have any cause to complain.

Breaks the expensive gift rule during Christmas

The ring, when it does come, is presented on Christmas morning at Fleur’s parents’ house in full view of Fleur’s mother and grandmother. Gabrielle is distracted with a new book from her father and Phillipe has been drawn into explaining some of the diagrams at the back of it. Fleur holds out the small box to Hermione with some trepidation, looking from her mother to grandmother. “Oh just give it to her Fleur,” her grandmother finally snaps. “You’ve waited long enough.”

"Fleur?” Hermione asks. 

“You once gave me the soul of the world,” Fleur says quietly. 

“Because it never ends,” Hermione breathes. Her fingers tremble as she opens the box. The ring is beautiful, and when Fleur puts in on her finger it feels as though Hermione’s come home after a long, long time away.

Makes the other eat breakfast

“You need to eat, chérie,” Fleur says. 

Hermione, where she’s been pacing up and down the length of the flat, looks to where Fleur’s standing in the kitchen holding out an energy bar. “I can’t,” she says. “If I eat I’ll get sick and I have to pass this exam today or I will never get the job at St. Mungo’s.”

Fleur’s lips press together into a thin line. She steps into the path of Hermione’s pacing and places her hands on Hermione’s shoulders. “You already have the job at St. Mungo’s. You know as well as I do that Blacks do not stick their necks out for just anyone. If Andromeda says you’re ready, you’re ready.” 

Hermione opens her mouth to protest, but she knows Fleur’s right. Her teeth click as she closes her mouth. 

Fleur’s expression softens. “Now, please, eat.”

Remembers anniversaries

It’s late February when Hermione suggests they go out somewhere nice. Fleur smiles fondly from her translation. “What’s the occasion?”  

“You kissed me for the first time five years ago today.”

Brings up having kids

“There are potions for that, Healer Granger, if you’re at all interested in such things.”

Hermione splutters, nearly spitting her coffee out as she stares across the breakroom table at Andromeda. “Why Healer Tonks,” she says, picking her words carefully. She’s been lamenting to her colleague that Fleur’s mentioned children for the third time in as many weeks and it’s about to turn into a conversation. “Are you offering to brew for me?”

“Well, I was going to offer my sister’s services,” Andromeda says, sipping her tea. “She’s been complaining to me that she’s bored now that the divorce has gone through.”

Hermione does spit out her coffee this time. “I will not have your sister brewing--” 

“Merlin, Hermione, you’re far too easy.”

[sif-the-tsunami]

Ropes and Roses: part 2

Summary: Elizabeth Rosehill is a talented dance instructor and a force of nature that beguiles her famous student. Event in her life, however, have led her to search for more creative ways for her to keep herself afloat. What will she do to keep her dreams secure and what will it mean for her blossoming relationship.

Warnings: I promise that we are getting to some fun stuff, this one is mostly flirtation, fluff, and some feminine bisexual chaos.

A/N: I love some bisexual chaos. let me know what you think.

@achaoticaugust @thelastsock @viking-raider let me know what you think?

Word count: ~1600

Henry looked around the studio after placing the yoga mats down. The light tan wood floors creaked softly under his footsteps, the walls coated with a light blue paint made the space feel calm and inviting, he thought to himself that the color combination reminded him of a day at the beach. One wall was covered with mirrors, the other had a rack with more yoga mats, brightly colored jingly hip scarves, and photos taken of various dancers. Elizabeth walked back into the room wearing a soft gray shirt over the curve hugging leggings and tank top she was wearing for the previous class.

“So, Greg told me this morning that they had not fully finished the plans for the dance scene, and he was willing to take my input. I have reviewed some of your fight scene footage, I think I have a good idea of where we can start. And I’m not going to lie, with your strength, I bet you would be a lot of fun to swing dance with. Now, lets get warmed up.” She began.

She kicked off her shoes and sat down on the mat, her movement was almost fluid. He watched her black painted fingernails run through her hair, the soft curls bounced gently as she leaned her head to left slightly. Henry joined her on the floor. For the next twenty minutes he mirrored her stretches as best as he could. With every new stretch, Elizabeth would praise him for his effort. Every “good job!” she exclaimed would perk him up. He would do yoga with her every day if it meant he could hear his new teacher shower him with praise.

During the stretches, they chatted about hobbies. Something about her demeanor made him open up more easily. She teased him for still playing WoW, but he playfully jabbed, “Oh I’m sorry who all plays Elder Scroll Online still?”

“Yeah, okay, that’s fair.”

The last position they did required them to have their legs spread apart and trying to lean forward enough to drop their elbows on the floor. It was pretty clear to Henry he wouldn’t be able to make it down that far. He could feel a tightness in his lower back that was keeping him from going too far forward.

“You don’t need to go as far as me, just as far as you can. Do your best, Henry. Take a nice deep breath in with your mouth, hold it for a five count, and exhale with your nose.” She said, her voice like velvet. “You are doing a really good job, keep up the effort. I’m willing to bet that if you kept doing stretches like this, in about four months, you could probably get your elbows down like this.”

He looked at Elizabeth’s large brown eyes, trying hard not to check out her body and immediately regretting wearing his dark blue track pants. She moved upright as smooth as ever. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking that she was showing off for him. He knew women would occasionally bend over backwards to impress him, and often it would work. It allowed him to be very picky with his romantic liaisons. She was up before he was, and reached out a hand to help him. With that gesture, he snapped out of his train of thought.

The dance instructor did everything she could to evoke any form of dance from Henry’s body. It was like trying to juice a rock. “So I think what we are going to try to accomplish is a basic tango. You get to look strong and imposing, your partner gets to look hella sexy. Win-win, right?” She said, trying to sound optimistic.

“It’s not too late, you can tell Greg that I should just be really great at Chess.” He teased.

“Don’t you tempt me, Mr Cavill. I might just do that.” She laughed for the first time in front of him. “So I have plans for the next couple nights, but if you want to really try to improve, I can get a partner for you to practice with on Sunday night. We would have to wait until after the school’s fall recital. But I can give you a couple hours.”

“Do you think I could actually get better.”

After a pause, and a long drink from her bottle of water, she responded as diplomatically as possible, “Well, Mr Cavill, if you don’t mind my honesty? You can’t get much worse.”

“Ouch. Ow. You hurt all two of my feelings.” He feigned insult. She raised a single eyebrow and saw right through him. Oh no, he thought, she knows I’m an absolute marshmallow.

“Uh huh, all two of your feelings. Right. So, Sunday night?” She giggled a little.

“Oh yeah, I’ll be here.” They then said their farewells, and left the studio for the night. Henry made his way home to a very excited Kal. He might still hate dancing but he enjoyed his time with Elizabeth. What was it about her that made him want to please her? Her whole face lit up when she smiles, her laugh was like music. 

That night he dreamed of the teacher, and wondered just how flexible she actually was.

***

Sunday night was an absolute joy for Elizabeth. She loved watching the little kids tap dance, the couples showing off their waltz, and the group of women who show off their tribal routine. Before the last dance, she noticed that her newest student tiptoed into a spot in the back. She was actually kind of excited to let him see what she could do. Being a very thorough researcher, she knew he would be able to learn a basic routine, especially given the amount of fight choreography he had mastered. She would be able to make the connection from his brain to his body. He might not enjoy it, but she appreciated the level of dedication that he had shown in the past and was willing to put forth for her.

Between performances, the families with littles mingled and left the studio. The group of belly dancers sat on one side of the room, the couples from the ballroom dancing stayed to another side. Henry stayed in the corner by himself, hiding in an open room with a baseball cap and a hoodie.

Elizabeth came out from the back wearing black pants, a black suit jacket and a sparkly silver bralette. Her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. Her partner, Genevieve, wore a formfitting red dress with lovely long blonde curls. She had agreed to perform this particular dance months ago and the anticipation was palpable. Inspired by the Frieda Kahlo movie, they had always wanted to perform a two woman tango. Elizabeth and Genevieve moved together like lovers deeply enthralled with each other. The music was sensual, but not nearly as sensual as they were. The two never broke eye contact until the very end of the dance. For a brief moment, she flashed her big brown eyes at Henry. His eyes were the size of dinner plates and he gulped hard. Good, she thought, I still got it.

Genevieve and Elizabeth hugged as the students applauded their display. They wrapped up the showcase, some more mingling and gradually the other adults left. Henry stayed to himself while waiting for his teacher to be ready.

“So, Mr Cavill, what did you think?”

“That was… oh my god, so... Wow… I don’t know if I can make a coherent sentence right now.”

“Thank you, that was exactly what I was going for. Henry, this is Gennie, she will be your partner tonight.” Elizabeth removed her jacket and pulled on a black tank top to get ready for their practice. She saw him sneak a peek at her changing, looking at the roses tattooed all over the right side of her torso. Gennie and Henry shook hands to begin their time together. Elizabeth was right, they were a good pair.

Their evening was well spent, Genevieve was a gracious partner. They had great chemistry together, Elizabeth was even able to take a short video to show to Gregory. She noticed that when the connection was made by Henry his whole body language changed. He loved to be told how great he was doing. The visible pleasure made her want to keep praising him. Before the evening class was done, Elizabeth also figured out what would make her pupil begin to laugh, and the more he relaxed the more he gave her. They became a great team, and a genuine friendship was beginning to form between the two.

***

Over the next few weeks, Henry and Elizabeth would continue their lessons. Over one lunch with his friends, the actor spent more than half of their time together telling the group of the instructor. He couldn’t stop himself from singing her praises. When someone suggested that he was developing a crush on her, he laughed to himself and denied it.

“Come on, Hank, you keep telling us how funny and cute she is. When you are done working together, ask her out.” Jillian suggested.

Jillian’s husband Jeremy asked Henry to describe the woman he had been talking about.

“Short, curly hair, she has some pink streaks in her hair, brown eyes, she kind of looks a little like a sort of retro pin-up model. She has a tattoo of flowers on her rib cage. I think she’s pretty.”

“American you said?”

“Yeah, from Southern California.”

“Huh, how about that.” Jeremy said vaguely. The questions seemed a little out of character for him but maybe he was actually interested in who she was. Henry tried not to overthink it, but it sat wrong with him the rest of the day.

[scumbag-monthly]

Hey guys! Evil Ed here bringing you a special PSA. We’re a small fandom here, as you all know, and that means – unfortunately – it’s impossible to avoid drama. Fortunately, it also means that we like, literally hardly ever have it. We’ve been going along pretty fine for the past couple years without much in the way of scalding tea to spill, and I’m grateful for that. We also wanted this blog, and this zine, to be a drama free space, and although we have reassured people of this in the past, I hope I can say truthfully that the zine-blog won’t be cluttered up with anymore of this pointless crap. If you don’t care about any of this, congratulations! You’re a bigger person than any of us, and we’re genuinely thrilled – we hope we can follow your example in the future. If you want the tea, however, it’s under the cut.

About five months ago, give or take, some discourse started in the Scumbag fandom. I’m not going to rehash it here. It is what it is, and it’s more or less in the past. Based on the situation, the “In-House Staff” at Scumbag Monthly (the figureheads behind Electric Boogaloo Publications, who don’t necessarily contribute to the zine every time all the time, but run all the boring unanarchic admin stuff behind the scenes) held a meeting to take stock and determine the situation. Given that the tension was taking place between regular contributors, we all agreed that for the sake of the zine, a decision had to be made, and although it wasn’t an easy decision to make, it was one that we came to for the sake of the zine. I understand that this all sounds very serious and severe for a volunteer run fanzine dedicated to a very niche fandom, but from the start we all unanimously agreed that we would give the zine our all, and run it with the level of dedication and professionality we felt it deserved. With that in mind, it’s also worth noting that despite many of us inhabiting fandom spaces for over a decade, none of us had ever been involved with / close to any kind of discourse before, and I readily admit that we were all well out of our depth.

Some of us were reluctant to take a course of action for fear of hurting anybody’s feelings or making the situation worse. However, I decided that even though R is the acting editor in chief, and has done more for the zine than I ever could, Scumbag Monthly was still my baby, and these were the volunteers – my friends, my family – that I had enlisted to help me. I felt that I had a responsibility to them above all else. So I did something I don’t ever want to do again, I flexed my power as Scumbag Monthly’s creator and made the call.

With regards to the staff members causing drama, I looked at the situation as objectively as I could, and decided that the staff members who had held their posts for the shortest amount of time – two months – and had already missed deadlines in the past, would be asked to leave. Did I make the right call? I like to think so. I felt it was my job to admit that both sides had made mistakes, and make a decision for the sake of the zine and the people who have worked on it since the beginning. Also, by the time the meeting was called and a decision needed to be made, I was aware that numerous people on-staff were feeling anxiety and tension over the situation, without having been directly involved in the original internet. Again, these things ripple, and they are uncomfortable for everyone, and nobody knew how to handle a situation like that. I knew that whatever we decided to do, it needed to prioritise the mental health of the Scumbag staff. I also had to take into account that in the history of the zine as well as the numerous other group collabs I had worked on with these people in the past, there had never been an issue up until this point. I’m sure after this point I’ll be accused of taking a stance with regards to the original drama, or picking sides, or just generally being a biased prick. I assure you I’m not. Again, I made a decision firstly for the sake of the Zine, and secondly for the mental health of the people I care about. I won’t apologise for either of those things.

So, I readily admit that some people were removed from staff. And I will admit my handling of it was less than ideal. It’s worth remembering that this is a thing we do for fun, that we all have lives extending far beyond Tumblr, and we all have stuff going on. In a spectacular case of bad timing, I had a mental health episode that demanded my attention, and although I had already taken a break from Tumblr at that point I needed to take another step back. Again, I’m not gonna apologise for having a life outside the internet.

For perhaps the hundredth time, I relied on R to steady the fallout, because out of us two she has always been the more stable, dependable, responsible one. At no point did I think that she would ultimately become directly attacked based on what was ultimately due to my crumbling mental health. If I had, I assure you, I would have gone full human shield mode and kept her out of the situation as best I could. Again, it may not have been my drama, but I felt I had an obligation to the zine and to the people who supported me in its creation.

If I could have done things differently, I would have contacted the people involved and informed them that they were no longer on staff. I admit that it was immature to not contact them, but at the time my personal life was a mess and Tumblr drama was the last thing on my mind. We were all shaken up, and nobody was feeling 100%. Following my decision to remove some people from staff, we agreed (as an Electric Boogaloo Collective, if you like) that although those people would not be blocked from either the zine-blog or the Ao3 feed, the staff were well within their rights to block anyone who was giving them unnecessary anxiety in a place that was supposed to be their safe space – that is, their own Tumblr blogs. We agreed that the people in question would also be allowed to submit and post to the zine, just not hold a collaborative place on staff that would result in unnecessary friction. I like to think that this is the kind of action that would be carried out in a professional setting, although I have no way of knowing for sure.

Based on the situation, many of the Boogaloos decided to block those involved on their personal blogs, because they did not feel they could handle the risk of anymore drama in a place that, for them, was supposed to be sacred. I supported this decision wholeheartedly, as did R. When R made the decision to block these people on her personal blog as well, I supported her too, because despite the brave face she was putting on I could tell that the situation had upset her deeply, especially since all parties involved were people she considered her friends and she felt like she had failed in keeping the fandom together. I couldn’t stomach the thought of her feeling like any of this was her fault, especially since all she has ever done in this fandom is try to make everyone feel welcome and included, and has done her best to be diplomatic about this entire ridiculous situation. She made the decision (possibly for the first time ever, may I say) to put her mental health first, and I am fiercely and incredibly proud of her. In an act of solidarity, I made the decision to block those in question from theevilesteviled, aka the Dump, aka my personal blog on Tumblr.

However, I still took notice when one of the parties in question reblogged a recent Scumbag Monthly post. Frankly, I was surprised that after five months there was still a degree of tension, but was informed by some other staff members that there had still been some drama going on for quite some time. I was deeply upset by this, especially when I saw just how much R had been flamed and blamed for choosing to put her mental health first, and how she had essentially been thrown under the bus for what was ultimately my call. That isn’t fair, and I blame myself.

If you’re still here - after this long ass rambling post of nothing – you may want to consider picking up a day job or some kind of hobby, ha-ha. But if you are still here, with me, under the cut, (and I hope at least somebody will be) I have a request. Come flame me if you want – all G my dudes, I can take it. Hell, I might even deserve some of it for handling this whole situation with the grace and dignity of an upside down bullfrog. But leave R out of it – she didn’t do shit. Anyone on staff will tell you that 99.9% of R’s job is cleaning up after my messes and sorting out my meltdowns. She has been endlessly compassionate and patient with me, and imo, extremely patient about this entire situation, despite how much its bothering her. Furthermore, leave the zine out of it. It’s just an internet fanmag at the end of the day. It’s for fun. That’s all. There’s no deep hidden meaning, no magic codes behind the word searches, no hidden agenda. We’re a fanmag. We like The Young Ones. It’s really not that deep.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #414

“mirror, mirror, tell me who you see  /  am i you or me?  /  i can never remember”

How many people have you kissed? Four. Ever kissed someone you weren’t dating at the time? No. Of the people you’ve kissed, how many do you regret kissing? Two. Ever been kissed by a legal adult when you were a minor (or vise-versa)? Yeah, with Jason, but it was only a two-year difference. Ever kissed someone on a dare/as part of a game? No. Where’s the most public place you’ve ever made out with someone? Nowhere public. I wouldn't do that. Can you snowboard? Never tried. Have you ever made a mixed cd for someone? No. Do you use recycle bins at your house? Yes. Do you own more than one bathing suit? No. Have you ever kissed someone who smokes weed? Jason did occasionally with his best friend, but he stopped for me. How are you right this second? I'm all right. Last night was pretty rough, so I'm just glad that's over. My body is just tired. Is there anything you disliked about your last birthday? Honestly, I barely remember what I did on my last birthday. I just remember it was fine. Oh wait, actually, on the way home from going out to eat, we had to call the cops while behind a car whose driver was obviously drunk or high OFF. HIS. ASS. He was swerving like crazy and almost hit SO many cars. I was having an absolute panic attack. I pray to God that guy was more than just found and fined. Do you keep a diary or journal (offline or online)? No, unless you count surveys, I guess. What were you like a year ago? I was the unhappily the same. Is someone on your mind right now? Fucking always. Having a warm dream about him last night didn't help. Who was the last person you sat next to? My mom. What do you currently hear right now? My screen is split so I can watch John Wolfe play some indie horror games. What’s something you need to go shopping for? I need to get new bras baaaadly because I'm tired of none fitting properly. What’s the last thing you ate? I had a donut 'cuz Mom stopped at Dunkin' for coffee. Do/did you do good in school? I did up to college. Then I just... sucked. Do you always get along with your siblings? I mean I don't see/talk to them every day or anything, not even very regularly even, but we generally get along fine now as adults. We disagree about shit for sure, but keep our mouths shut. Or probably talk to Mom about it while I'm not present. I don't even think they like me half of the time. Are you frustrated with anything? So much. Why did you fall for the last person romantically? There were/are a lot of factors. Just she as a person is phenomenal. What’s your younger sibling’s name? Nicole. Can you speak in a different language conversationally; if so, which language? A tiny bit of German. Do you ever fear of falling asleep? With my nightmares, I used to dread it. Now, thankfully, my APAP mask has prevented them from happening, mostly; I've only had two in the month that I've had it, and I ordinarily had them every single night. Do you have an idea of what kind of profession you’d like to have? I do, but I honestly doubt I'm going to succeed in even making it a part-time job by this damn point. Which beach would you say is your favorite? I don't have a favorite. I don't even like the beach very much. What kind of cookie is your favorite? Chocolate chip. Have you ever had a churro? Yes. Too crunchy and ridiculously sweet, not a fan. Truth be told, are you more into looks or personalities the most? A good personality beats good looks any day. How is/was your chemistry class in high school? I actually didn't take chemistry; my graduating year, physical science was offered as the alternative, which I took. How does alcohol affect you? I get hot, and my face flushes badly. It'll make me more talkative. Have you ever tried lemon brownies? No, and I don't want to. I don't like lemon-flavored stuff like that. What was the last type of meat you ate? Beef. Have you taken any medication today? I have prescriptions I take every day. Have you ever watched Parks and Recreation? I've seen some of it at Sara's house. What is your favourite kind of pasta? Just spaghetti with tomato sauce and meatballs, really. I've been on a major chicken pesto kick lately, though. Have you set an alarm today? No. Think of a random person, and give them a message here, no names: Literally just the chance to say "I'm sorry" would be fucking amazing. Just two fucking words. What if there were two of you? Would the world be in trouble? No. That'd be a waste of space, though. Not like I'm contributing much to society. Would you prefer an ice cream sundae or an ice cream cone? I dunno man, it depends on my mood and what I want in the moment. Do you watch movies with the subtitles on? No; I find it to be distracting. Is the last person you kissed yours? I hate this saying. She's her own person that belongs to nobody but herself. But to just go along with it and answer the question, no, we're not together. Do you think you will be married by the time you are 25? Welp, I'm halfway through 25, so. Do you have siblings over the age of 21? All of my siblings are. Do you have a hard time admitting you’re wrong? No. Especially as I've aged, I'd say I'm pretty quick to accept if I've fucked up. Who has the ability to hurt you the most emotionally? Jason will probably always have that power, even if he's not in my life. Would you ever be a stripper? God no, nobody wants to see that. What are your plans for tomorrow? Just get through the day, man. Do you owe anybody money? No. How would your parents describe you? Reserved, shy, a deep thinker, animal lover, uhhhh... What is the most you have ever weighed? Let's not. Would you ever work at McDonald's? No. I'm never working in food service. If you aren't already, would you go vegetarian or vegan? I want to be a vegetarian and being a vegan would be perfectly ideal for me, but I really don't think I can healthily accomplish either. I am FAR too picky to where I'd almost definitely become malnourished. To make it even worse I absolutely cannot "suck it up" if I don't like a food, so it's not like I could choke down stuff I don't like. Not to mention I'd be pretty sad without any yummy food to look forward to, aha. Coolest person you've ever met? Uhhhh I don't know. Do you wear boxers? No. Girls, how old were you when you first learned how to put in a tampon? I don't remember. Would you ever attend a gay pride parade or festival? I would absolutely love to. Did you see Paranormal Activity 2? I think I've seen all of the movies. I liked them, given paranormal horror films are probably my fave. What would you do if an old man grabbed your ass? Kick him in the fucking balls so goddamn fast and probably slap him across the face at the same time. Probably cry later from feeling violated and having my fear of men aggravated. Do you like moustaches? It depends on the person, but I'd say I generally prefer an attached beard and a mustache versus JUST a mustache. Could you hack into someone's computer if you tried hard enough? No. I have no idea how to do that. Have you ever smoked a cigar? No. Do you go out on Black Friday? Hell no. NOT worth fighting people for deals. Do you have curtains in your bedroom? No; I have those blinds that you can close upwards or downwards. Did you like the Spice Girls when you were little? Yeah, I did. Can you sing the entire Fresh Prince of Bel-Air theme song? I think I can. Do you get heartburn? I'm literally on an antacid prescription, or else I get insane heartburn every day. Are you scared of elevators? To a moderate degree, yes. I'm terrified of it getting stuck. Have you ever seen a dead body in person? Yes, at an open-casket wake. Have you ever seen The Goonies? I have. If you're white, do you ever wish you were black? Or vice versa? I'm fine being Caucasian, but ultimately don't care. Do you bake cookies all the time around Christmas? I don't bake. Do you like your hair pulled? Uhhh... I'm assuming you mean this in a suggestive context, in which case no. Never pull my hair, actually. What kind of jeans do you like? Ripped skinny jeans. What do you think is overrated? Who really cares. Let people enjoy what they enjoy. And what are your goals for the remainder of this year? Lose lots of weight, find a job, get back into old hobbies and develop new ones... Name a city that starts with A in your state/province etc. Asheboro. Name a landmark that starts with M in your state/province etc. I'm blanking right now. When was the last time you gave a horse a carrot? Been years. I think I've only done that once, and I can't even remember where it was. Have you ever had to shovel snow? No. How many seasons is your favorite TV show in so far? MM was just revived for its fifth season! :') Where would you most like to go in your state, etc. that you haven’t been? NC actually has this really old Wizard of Oz theme park! It's on the other end of the state, though, and NC is one wiiiiiide state. What was the last bird you saw? A robin, I think. What color was the last thing you drank? Green. Has a wild animal ever been loose in your house? Besides insects, no. Well wait, scratch that, once or twice we had a small mice problem when we lived in the woods. What’s the name of the bookstores in your city? The only one I know off the top of my head is Books-a-Million. Where do your parents live? I live with my mom, and Dad lives in the same city as us. Have you ever seen or touched an iceberg? No, but that would be cool. What colour are your father’s eyes? Brown. If your ex turned up on your doorstep now, with nowhere else to go, would you let him/her stay? Well one, this isn't my house, so I can't make that decision. My mom being who she is though, she'd let pretty much anyone stay the night. If it was Sara, Mom would let her stay as long as she needed. The last time you cried, was it connected with someone of the opposite sex? Ugh, yes. My PTSD was BAD last night. Delicious warm brownies or a giant cookie? I'll take the brownie. Have you visited a haunted building or area before? No, but damn I'd love to. Have you been to North Carolina? Ayyyyeeeee that's my home.

[theres-a-goldensky]

16 + 2 Reddie Fic Recs pt. 2

I’m back and still on my Bill Hader bullshit, so here’s another round of Reddie fic recs, because I can’t stop reading and sometimes sifting through the insane amounts of fic is a nightmare. So if you feel my pain and need some (at least in my opinion) fun stories, then come along with me on a magical journey filled with men crying during sex, hypochondria, and your mom jokes.

As ever, feel free to reblog and check out my other rec lists for the following fandoms:

IT chapter 2 list part one - Reddie

Good Omens fic 

The Untamed list one and two - various pairings, mostly Wangxian

Various BL Series fic (fandoms: Love By Chance, TharnType, 2Moons series, My Engineer, Until We Meet Again, 2gether, History3: Trapped)

Or just head over to my bookmarks on AO3.

All my recs are completed, almost all of them are post-It chapter 2. * - denotes a favorite

1. I killed a clown. AMA! by liesmyth - ~10,000 words, teen - The history of Eddie and Myra’s marriage shown through their posts on reddit. The voices here are great, and it really feels like reading the reddit forums, down to the people sleuthing through their past posts and comments to try and figure out if what they’re saying is real or an elaborate troll.

 r/relationships

Posted by u/martymcfly6xo 7 months ago

 My (39F) husband (39M) likes horrible stand-up comedy. How can I stop him from bringing this up in front of our mutual friends?

For the last year or so my husband has been watching a lot of stand-up comedy on youtube. I want him to have something relaxing to do (he works a lot and gets really invested in his ‘hands-on’ hobbies in a way I’m not sure is good for him) but I was very puzzled by this discovery as he likes very crass acts and that is certainly not the kind of humor hubby usually enjoys...

2. all of the kids back home believing much more than you do by eatcheeseliveforever - ~11,000 words, explicit - This is a fix-it fic, which is becoming more and more rare in this fandom as we collectively started deciding that Eddie Kaspbrak doesn’t need to be brought back to live, because he never died in the first place, dammit. It has some great pining by Richie. You can really feel his grief and desperation as he searches for a way to get Eddie back. The other Losers are great in this too, especially Mike with his whales.

"A boat, actually," murmured Mike.  "I'm on a whale-watching cruise."

Richie mouthed the words "whale watching cruise" to himself.  Empirically he knew such things existed, that they happened not far away from the coast where he lived, but it felt like several fucking galaxies away from where he was, surrounded by the ghosts of takeouts and blackouts past and the actual ghost-ghosts, who he couldn't step in or stub his toe on at three in the morning, but hurt so much worse.

"He said you've been googling resurrection rituals."

Richie scrounged through his pile of empties, hoping one wasn't.  "Bill talks too much."

"Richie."  A sigh, or a wave, or a really quiet whale.  "You're not going to find a resurrection ritual on Google."

"I've found hundreds," said Richie.  "Funny thing, though, they all seem to call for orgies.  Or virgin sacrifices.  Or sacrificing someone's virginity in an orgy.  I'm hoping Ben will volunteer as tribute."

3. * - you’ve got the answers to my confessions by QueerOnTilMorning - ~17,000 words, explicit - This is the good stuff right here. Richie accidentally sexts Eddie and Eddie is IN. TO. IT. This fic starts with excellent phone sex, there’s misunderstandings and confessions in the middle, and then it ends with super hot sex. There’s a brief part with karaoke that was a bit of a lull in the story, but doesn’t take away from how great the rest is.

     suck on ur tongue  

     show u how much I missd that mouth  

     when u start getting weak in the knees  

     thats when ill get on mine  

 He set the phone aside to unzip his pants, palming himself through his boxers, already half-hard.

 Then he froze.

 The text he had just replied to--it was what he'd expected Travis to say, but it wasn't how Travis would say it. That text began with a capital letter and contained punctuation. That text was from--

 "Oh, fuck, no," Richie whispered, and his phone rang.

 Incoming call: Eds

4. * -  L'Appel du Vide by Mackem - ~92,000 words, teen - I know, I know, almost 100k and no sex, but hear me out! The pining in this fic is so exquisitely beautiful and wrenching. Eddie’s POV is excellent and feels really spot on. The other Losers are well represented, especially Ben and Bev. In fact, the group dynamics here are almost as good as the relationship stuff. The later chapters bring in a subplot about the deadlights that I wasn’t that interested in, but it’s still done really, really well, and that’s only a side plot that doesn’t impact that exceptional story of Eddie and Richie figuring out how to stop being dummies.

Two messages, however, are from Stanley, sent to him privately. He opens them, and is met with a picture of Richie, apparently taken without him realising.

It shows him laughing, his eyes crinkled at the corners behind his glasses, and his smile bright and broad as a hand gestures wildly in the air. The other hand is in his hair, pushing it out of his eyes as he tilts his head back, displaying the line of his throat beneath his stubble.

The breath is punched from Eddie at the sight of it.

He stares at it for a long moment, surprised by the depth of his reaction. His stomach is swirling happily, a bubble of excitement growing at the pit, and he cannot help but feel a heated flush build at his cheeks.

It’s probably just because Richie looks like he’s enjoying himself. It’s good to see his friend having fun. That has to be it.

Then he reads Stan’s message.

Stan: He was talking about you. He does that a lot.

5. my love a beacon in the night - by zach_stone - ~4500 words, explicit - Richie is on the road doing shows through Christmas. His friends have a surprise for him. I know it’s almost Valentine’s Day, but it’s never the wrong time for a fluffy Christmas story imo.

 “Yep, just got to my hotel,” Richie says. “Now I’m getting ready for my big Christmas Eve plans.”

 Eddie snorts. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

 “Well according to my TV guide, they’re doing a rerun of The Mistletoe Promise, so I’m all fuckin’ set,” Richie says, grinning when Eddie laughs. On Eddie’s end of the line, he hears the sound of cars passing by, the muffled chatter of people, and says, “Are you outside?”

 “Huh? Oh, yeah,” Eddie says.

 Richie glances at the clock on the nightstand. It’s after ten; Eddie’s not one to be wandering around Times Square after dark. He frowns slightly. Eddie’s been unusually vague about his holiday plans, so Richie has no clue what he’s up to this evening. Not that it’s any of his business. Maybe he’s started seeing someone and is spending the holidays with them. Richie has a sudden image of Eddie, arm-in-arm with some generically pretty woman, taking in the lights and decorations around the city. It opens a pit in his stomach.

6. Coming Back and Coming Out: Richie Tozier's 2019 by Lunatical - ~2000 words, teen - I genuinely adore the mixed media fics that this fandom has spawned. This one is an excerpt from a magazine interview with Richie as he restarts his career.

Slouched on his couch in a cheesy Hawaiian shirt and torn-up jeans, Richie Tozier looks exactly like the manchild he is describing himself to be. Next to him, sitting up straight and dressed in a lovely suit that most people would consider appropriate for an interview, his husband rolls his eyes.

When we scheduled this interview, Tozier insisted we hold it at their house, citing a desire for the interview to be “as chill as possible”—in his own words, of course. He argued that seeing the two of them in their usual environment would help me get a better idea of the kind of relationship they have. After walking into their apartment and seeing the way they’ve decorated the place, I have to admit that I can understand why.

7. baby, there’s no other superstar by kaspbrakziers - ~7000 words, mature - Another mixed media fic that shows the progression of Richie and Eddie’s relationship and Richie’s career through tweets, texts, and interviews. Eddie not knowing how to turn off the capslock on his phone absolutely sent me.

Search history

Today Sunday, 13 November 2016

should i get a divorce? - Google Search

Unhappily Married: Should I get a divorce? - Yahoo Answers

10 Signs Your Marriage Is Over - Buzzfeed

how to divorce? - Google Search

How To File For Divorce (With Pictures) - wikiHow

how to divorce someone without them getting angry? – Google Search

can you divorce someone without telling them? - Google Search

8. Goes on Trips for the Scenery by InkandOwl - ~4500 words, teen - Eddie dies and then comes back to life and tries to get some perspective. I liked the conversations between Eddie and Richie and then way that Eddie starts to take care of himself. The end is really sweet.

If cosmic power and a literal alien space clown’s death wasn’t going to bring him back to life, Eddie was certain that the terrible pain of hearing Richie beg, his tears dropping onto Eddie’s face, probably would’ve done it. He feels sick just thinking about it. About what it all means. “Yeah, Rich, I will.” He could throw a jab at him, tell him something about eating like an adult for once, but he wants to be easy with him right now. Richie deserves it. “You’ll text, right?”

Richie looks down at the prepaid cricket phone in Eddie’s hand and laughs, “There’s no fucking way that thing gets texts.”

“It does.” Eddie grins, “You could call too.”

The fight drains from Richie, his shoulder slumping and he sighs, “Yeah, Eds, I’ll call.”

9. cause i'm about to blow that back out by thotgreeves - ~5000 words, explicit - Here, have some porn. Eddie wears lingerie and Richie loses his goddamn mind. Features submissive top Richie and his unending boner for Eddie.

Richie really should have learnt to never underestimate Eddie Kaspbrak by now. It had come close to killing Richie once, but Eddie might actually be trying to finish him off.

Because the other perk of always letting Eddie go ahead of him was that it gave Richie a prime view of Eddie's ass. Eddie knew about this part and was okay with it. He was wearing a high-waisted pair of slacks that Richie was pretty sure came from the women's section, slightly loose in the legs but nicely filled out by his ass. Richie had been very vocal in the past about how hot they got him, which signaled that Eddie definitely wanted to have sex tonight, and that was already enough to make Richie's dick twitch in excitement. He hadn't been prepared for the finishing blow.

Richie's eyes were fixed, pendulum-like, on how Eddie's slacks were hugging his butt perfectly with every step he took, tight enough to show off the outline of his underwear. Only the folds didn't sit where Richie had expected them to. Instead, Richie realized, his mouth going dry, that in the absence of boxers, there was only a V-shaped crease running from Eddie's hips to between his asscheeks, which could only mean-

Eddie was wearing a thong.

10. * - I’ll Be Homo For Christmas by Amuly - ~15,000 words, explicit - Bill and Audra get a divorce, so Bill moves into Richie’s house with him. Eddie, watching all of this from New York, where he’s still married to Myra, is super, super ok and fine with it in every way.

Except then Richie started posting.

Just stupid shit, mostly with Bill. It wasn’t even real. Eddie knew Bill wasn’t gay and him and Richie were just fucking around ‘for the ‘gram!’ But the more posts Eddie scrolled past on Richie’s Instagram—

 Bill in the kitchen swatting at Richie with a spatula.

 Richie and Bill at the pound, Richie rating dogs on adoptability, Richie begging Bill to adopt a dog with him.

 Richie in the morning with bedhead, smiling blearily into the camera as Bill…

Well. Eddie couldn’t even remember what stupid thing Bill was supposed to be doing in the background of that photo because his eyes couldn’t get past Richie’s bedhead and shirtless torso, chest hairs creeping up towards his collarbones and the little dip at the base of his throat.

Eddie hadn’t thought he was homophobic. But he must have some unresolved issues with it, because he got a stomachache every time he looked at that photo of Richie. Eddie popped a Tums and resolved to talk about it with his therapist.

11. A High-Five is a Hug You Can Hit by Amuly - ~26,000 words, explicit - This fic shows us times throughout their friendship when Eddie and Richie would invent reasons to touch each other without even knowing why. This author feels the same bone deep conviction about Richie crying during sex that I do, and I greatly appreciate that. Plus, all of their stories are fantastic, including this one.

“You know, one of the symptoms of hypothermia is feeling like you’re warm. So like, your body gets so cold that it gets hot, and then you start taking off your clothes-”

“Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Eddie?” Richie shot back at him without turning around.

“Why don’t you ask your sister how much she liked it last week!” Eddie hollered up at him. Richie just flipped him off without looking. That kinda… bugged Eddie. What the fuck did Richie think he was doing leading up the group with Bill? Why was he stuck back here with Stan? Eddie glanced over at Stan, who was trudging tiredly through the woods alongside him, breath puffing out in little clouds of smoke.

“Okay, Stan?”

Stan glanced over at him, confused. Then he shrugged. “Yeah, fine. Cold.”

“Well that’s better than feeling warm.” And now Eddie was back on track. “Because, if anyone starts feeling warm, they should tell the others immediately. That’s a sign of hypothermia. And we have to warm you up. But you have to do it gradually, you can’t just jump in like, a pot of boiling water-”

12. * - fall apart of stay intact by kaspbrak_kid - ~19,000 words, teen - A more melancholy take on the Christmas fic. This story takes Richie’s self-esteem issues and mental problems and amps them up in a way that feels entirely realistic. The gang comes together to celebrate Christmas, and everyone is walking on eggshells because last Christmas was a bad one for Richie. Also, Eddie moves into the house literally right next to Richie’s, and I find that detail endlessly charming.

“Five minutes ago. I called you, and you didn’t answer. Because you were outside, apparently, fucking...stargazing in December! With no hat on!”

“It’s about the Vitamin D!” Richie says. Now that he’s moved a little, he can really feel the cold—his ears are aching, and his face is numb. “Reflecting off the moon, or something. I have seasonal depression, you know!”

“You have seasonal stupidity,” Eddie mutters, audibly rubbing his hands together. “Just get inside.”

“Yours or mine?” Richie jokes.

Eddie doesn’t get the memo. “Mine, obviously. I’ll make you hot chocolate.”

“Oh,” Richie says, and sits up. “Um. Okay, be right there.”

“Oh, thank god,” Eddie says, and hightails it to his back door, cursing about the cold.

13. evidence of a happier future by lagaudiere - 23,000 words, mature - I am here, leading the Jealous!Eddie revolution. Why aren’t there more fics about this. Have you SEEN Eddie Kaspbrak, can you IMAGINE him jealous? Make this happen, fandom. Anyway, in this one, Richie has a boyfriend back in LA. Eddie has trouble dealing with that as he tries to figure himself out and pick up the pieces of his life post-Derry.

“It’s not gonna be like Mike’s announcement, don’t worry,” Richie says hastily. “And it’s not like, a huge thing, so don’t make it a huge thing. But you guys are like, my best friends, and I just wanted you to know that I’m, uh. Gay.”

He turns up his palms and raises his eyebrows in a gesture that suggests a magician presenting his audience with an empty hat after making the rabbit disappear, and Eddie says, “Are you joking?”

“What? Jesus, no, Eddie.” Richie’s face falls, and Eddie instantly feels guilty. “I’m trying to be sincere here.”

“Sorry,” Eddie says immediately, feeling all of their friends looking at him with reproach. “I was just — if you weren’t, I wouldn’t think you should… joke about it.”

“Well, I am,” Richie says. He sounds slightly put out — and who wouldn’t be, Eddie scolds himself, by that ridiculous response. “I have all the gay credientials. I have a boyfriend, partner, whatever people say. I don’t really tell people because of the whole, stage persona, thing. But yeah.”

“Richie!” Bev’s voice breaks through the awkwardness, and she reaches across the table to squeeze his hand. “Thank you for telling us. Really.”

And the others all join in, a chorus of voices telling Richie they love him and they’re proud of him, and Ben is saying, “I wanna see a picture of the guy!” and Eddie’s throat feels like it’s closing up.

14. The ‘Do Not Fucking Touch Me’ Tour by MellytheHun - ~23,000 words, explicit - It’s Richie’s comeback special, and he makes it a big one. This...isn’t really a comedy show, but the author lampshades that. It’s an excuse to have Richie talk about how much he loves each of his friends individually, and it’s extremely entertaining. Richie doesn’t know that Eddie is in the audience watching it all.

“Hey, uhm… Eddie… he couldn’t reschedule his thing? He - I mean... it… it was really that important?”

She feels awful for him immediately, but not wanting to spoil what would ultimately be a lovely surprise, she tells him, “I’m sorry, Rich. He said it was urgent. He was really sorry about it.”

Her phone buzzes with a text from Eddie right as Richie curses under his breath, missing the noise. She clutches her phone more tightly in her fist, knowing Eddie is wondering where his seat is going to be; she bought him a separate ticket, elsewhere in the theatre, so Richie wouldn’t catch him sitting among them, as he will absolutely, inevitably look over to the Losers for most of the show.

“Okay,” Richie surrenders sadly, “Uh - I guess he’ll see it eventually, right?”

Smiling forlornly at him, she pats his arm, and tells him, “don’t worry, Richie. Your genius will inevitably be forced upon us all.”

He smiles at her, gives her a kiss on the cheek, and when Bill jokingly asks why he didn’t get one, Richie flips him off, and reminds them to treat themselves to the bar in the lobby.

Once he’s backstage, Beverly takes her phone out, and emails Eddie his ticket, explains that she’s already convinced Richie he’s not coming, and to make sure he doesn’t show up too early, or Richie will notice.

15. The List by cissues - ~7000 words, teen - Eddie finds a list he wrote as a teenager. Richie tries his best to fulfill them all. This is very sweet.

‘ All the things I want. Everything I’m not allowed to have. A perfect summer. ”

The words hit gentler than he thought they would, but they still hit and he finds himself blinking away at a wetness at the corner of his eye. He wipes at it and sniffles and Richie peers sidelong at him to make sure he’s okay. He is, he’s fine, and Richie never dotes on him when things are, generally, okay. Only when he needs it, which is one of the many things he loves about what they have now.

“This is… this is like a fucking  bucket list  for the most repressed child in the world.” Richie says, breathless.

Eddie rolls his eyes to hide the sting. “You’re looking at him,” he says, bitter. Richie frowns at him but turns back to the paper. Another thing Eddie loves, Richie never takes his trauma-induced bait. His knee-jerk reactions developed over years of what he’s now comfortable enough to call abuse.

16. Richie Tozier Answers the Web's Most Searched Questions by DeadpanMage - ~2000 words, teen - This is a short one, but the transcript of this popular YT video format with Richie felt spot on in terms of characterization and Richie’s voice.

[Back to the text screen: “So WIRED asked Richie Tozier some of the internet’s burning questions.” Cut back to Richie, now holding a poster board with several Google autocomplete searches half covered.]

Richie: I’ve undergone something of a rebranding in the past year, so I wonder how many of these questions are going to be super irrelevant-slash-embarrassing. Probably all of them. Let’s get started! [He tears the covering off of the first question.] Alright, that’s not bad. “How to pronounce Richie Tozier?” Well, we’re only on question one and I’ve already said it like a hundred times so there you go. And that’s “Richie Tozier” spelled J-O-H-N M-U-L-A-N-E-Y, so if you’ve got any complaints be sure to send them that way. Next question!

You can check out a larger list of stories I’ve enjoyed in my AO3 bookmarks. And finally, if you’re interested, here are the two fics I’ve written:

1. Waiting For a Sign - ~6000 words, explicit - Eddie meets Richie again and comes to the startling realization that he totally wants to hit that.

Maybe if Richie wasn’t famous, Eddie could have found a way to let it go. A couple furtive jerk off sessions in the shower after he got back to New York and the image of Richie’s big hands and wide smile and improbably flattering stubble would fade from his mind.

But Richie was famous, and the internet never forgot.

Eddie lasted three days before giving in and typing ‘Richie Tozier’ into the YouTube search bar. Just seeing Richie in the thumbnails was enough to make Eddie’s heart thud, what the fuck. He had to scroll past a bunch of news videos about Richie's supposed mental breakdown, but after that he landed on some old stand-up.

Before he clicked on the first video, he got up and made sure that the door of his study was locked. Then he turned off the lights and put on a pair of earbuds.

Fake It ‘Til You Make It - ~21,000 words, explicit - It’s that totally relatable situation where the man you’re secretly in love with is a celebrity who just came out and now needs a fake boyfriend to keep himself in the spotlight. Eddie offers to help out of the goodness of his heart and not because he’s insanely fucking jealous.

Eddie froze, breath catching in his throat.

Richie looked...really good.

Bev’s influence was obvious. His hair, which had been unkempt and shaggy, a perfect match for his stoner permakid schtick, was cut much shorter and neater. His formerly unruly stubble somehow now emphasized the sharp cut of his jaw instead of obscuring it.

He wore new glasses, Eddie noticed. Slim silver metal frames instead of his giant, clunky plastic ones. The fitted black sweater and dark blue jeans were simple, but made his shoulders look impossibly broad and his legs miles long.

Fuck everything and Beverly Marsh in particular.

LINK TO MY FIRST SET OF REDDIE RECS 30+ FICS

[prisonrose]

Memories of Mr. K

Just an FYI, this is going to be a highly personal post that’s going to be a bit of a bummer. Feel free to skip if you’re not into that. But I figured I’d let you guys know the reasoning behind my abrupt hiatus at a time when I was just trying to get a bit more activity going.

What can I say. 2020 Gonna 2020.

So I found out a few weeks ago that my “ex stepdad” died. Meaning the man my mom married after my biological dad but before the guy she’s currently married to. For all intents and purposes, Mr. K was the man that raised me. But my feelings around his passing has been all sorts of complicated.

I most definitely owe the guy a lot. He definitely wasn’t perfect, but he taught me a lot. Mostly, he taught me how to communicate better. Growing up, I was an extremely shy kid -- the type who’d cry if they had to order their own pizza over the phone. In many ways, I’m still that sort of person. Phone conversations terrify me, to the point where it has literally cost me thousands of dollars. But talking to strangers is one thing. The problem was that I couldn’t even clearly communicate with the people I was close to.

Everything in my mind was a confusing jumble, and even though I was creative and really wanted to write stories from like... the 5th grade on, they were often so convoluted, no one could follow them. If I didn’t have Mr. K in my life, it’s quite possible I would have just given up. But he was a great speaker, and gave me the tools I needed to be able to get people to understand what I mean. A lot of him shows through in my writing and personality, especially my sense of humor. He was a super funny guy. 

I didn’t start out loving him. As a really immature child, I thought that there was some semblance of a chance my biological dad might come back. I blame all those movies in Hollywood, lol. But my dad was never going to take responsibility. We talked afterwards occasionally, but he was more like a buddy than a real parental figure. And now I don’t really talk about him that much, either.

Mr. K was the first real (and probably the only) father figure I had in my life. By the time my mom told me they were divorcing when I was a senior in high school, it pretty much destroyed me and prompted the biggest and most severe depressive episode of my life. It very nearly killed me, though I’m definitely glad I was able to see the light at the end of the tunnel. 

In the first year or so, I tried desperately to keep my relationship with the man that raised me, and for a few months, he was receptive. But eventually, he just kind of drifted out of my life and stopped responding to my texts and calls. So, message taken. To this day I don’t know if he was serious about wanting to continue having a relationship with me at all, or if it was just a ruse to try to get close to my mom again. I guess I’ll never know for sure now.

And that’s the thing that frustrates and infuriates me the most about his death. I was extremely upset when he decided to cut me out of his life, but I always wanted to make up with him again. I wanted us to square away our differences, and even if he never got to be “dad” to me again, we’d still be able to talk. Kind of like my biological dad is for me now.

But he didn’t even try. He reached out to my mom several times over the years, trying to talk to her again, even once she was already remarried. In fact, he reached out to her again during New Year’s on THIS year. Thanking her for her “10 years of service” as his wife, or some bull. REALLY???

On one hand, if those are the types of messages I could look forward to with my continued relationship with him, maybe I was just better off without him from the start. But part of me wonders if that was him trying to make things “right” before he died. Apparently he thought it was more important to make amends with the woman who barely even tolerated him as opposed to the kid that grew up relying on his guidance for a decade. So that feels. Great to think about.

In the end, I don’t know what killed him. Maybe he really was sick when he sent Mom that message. Or maybe he was just being a creep (since it wasn’t unheard of for him to send her shit, completely unsolicited in the past) and the ‘Rona got him. That’s something I COULD find out if I wanted to, but I chose to not even get invested in finding out. Literally all it would do is make me more depressed if I found out it was an answer I didn’t like. I still don’t even know for sure WHEN he died. I found out sometime about a month ago, but apparently the dedication page his job put up for him was a month or so old already when mom found it. I never quite know what to do with myself when he’s involved.

So... Yeah. If you’re still with me after that long, meaningless dive into Mittens’ childhood... Thank you, and I’m sorry. I guess the million dollar question now is what does this mean for Dhimani’s blog? Truth be told, I don’t know for sure. Maybe the hiatus will continue for months before I open back up, same as things always were, or maybe I’ll just go private and selective and RP with a few people. Neither of which are things I necessarily want to do.

I would like to come back right away and keep writing for Rose the way I always have. This entire blog became a side project that took over my life and consumed my thoughts for nearly half a year. I’m pretty attached to him, as well as the connections I’ve made on here. But I also have to be real with myself and concede that maybe I need to give myself some space and time to really actually deal with the shit going on in my personal life.

Mr. K dying hasn’t thrown my life in disarray or anything. I’m pretty unhappy and have random crying spells, but nowhere near depressed. I’m functioning just fine. But I think it’s fair to say that themes and issues centered around fatherhood and forgiveness are a really touchy subject for me right now. I just need to be real with myself in that regard and say that I’m not mentally or emotionally prepared to deal with online dissertations about why Rose is an evil person / terrible dad right now. I need to look out for myself, and that’s hard to accept. 

I can kind of fall into the trap of thinking of RPing as a “service” rather than a hobby at times, for better or for worse. I often think and consider the things I “owe” my RP partners and the community as a whole. Part of me regrets that I can no longer fill the “niche” of the “well meaning but super problematic Rose who did fucked up stuff” anymore. But at the end of the day, I’m just human. I’ve got needs, too, and I deserve some escapism and comfort-food threads instead of stuff that’s constantly going to remind me of the worst period in my entire life. That doesn’t make me a bad person or a bad writer. 

I wish it didn’t have to happen this way. Dhimani’s birthday is coming up, and I don’t even think I’m going to be active for it. (In a pinch, I might push it back so I can still celebrate My Boy.) Hopefully this is just a bump in the road that’ll lead to a bright future down the line. We can only hope.

I’ll keep you guys updated in any case. Thank you so much for your patience, and I hope to get back to writing for you all soon.

-- Mittens.

[kathyprior4200]

Inside Alastor’s Head (sensitive content warning)

Part 1

 “Use the princess to convince Lucifer to hand over Hell to me. Get to know Charlie and her family, see how this so called Happy Hotel works. I can’t wait to see her face when she realizes it’s actually the Hazbin Hotel. Has a better ring to it, anyway. May as well speed up the process by bringing in Niffty and making grumpy Husk join in. It’ll be everything Charlie’s dreamed of…and when it all blows up in her face, I’ll be enjoying my popcorn.”

 “So Charlie likes music and dancing, too? How marvelous! These hotel residents can enjoy my singing and illusion magic. (They won’t know what’s coming next.)”

 “Who, me? Evil? Why would you think that? It’s totally unlike me to broadcast my massacre of demon citizens who stand in my way. (Except it is.) Man, seeing them running and sacred…reminds me of game I used to hunt when I was alive.”

 “The demon princess wants to redeem sinners. Ha! Probably the silliest claim I’ve ever heard. A nice refresher from the usual grim news on the Picture Show. Her singing was a nice bonus. Oh, the good old days of being on the air…basking in the attention and glory. I told jokes, advertised shows, announced fun events. I even got to report on murders for the news, probably my favorite part. Soooo close to being able to advertise Jambalaya. Several other announcers got the part, so I wore a disguise, snuck in one day and sliced their heads off. Still loved the expressions on their faces. Here in Hell, I have no opponents in the radio business. ”

 “Those overlords look scary and cocky, but they’ve heard the tales of me…they’re scared deep down, for good reason. Sir Pentious didn’t stand a chance when I summoned black tentacles to wrap around him and his ship. Along with my powers, I have shadowy spirits to do my bidding. That’s why you can sometimes see them when I attack. You don’t need brute force and insults to win someone over. All it takes sometimes is some illusions, a little help from the Loa…and just smiling all the way through.”

 “My microphone cane surly comes in handy. It’s what allows me to project events in front of me and broadcast them on the radio. It has a life of its own, but I’m in control, of course. All part of the magic deal with the Loa.”

 “I enjoyed watching the picture show and going to the circus when I was a boy. Watching the animals and the performers was lots of fun. I may have burned down the circus tent after being rejected from a comedian role. But it was only an accident: my fingers slipped when I was getting cigarettes for father. Whenever I got sad, my mother told me “You’re never fully dressed without a smile.” Her motto still rings true to this day.”

 “I enjoyed hunting deer in my human life, yet I also feel some connection to the animal. They’re majestic, agile, and are free to travel pretty much anywhere. Though they’re often attacked by hunting dogs…or in my case, police dogs. The beasts mauled me just before I died. It was back in 1933. Thus, for my so called evil deeds, I arrived down here in Hell. And I gotta say, it’s quite a fun place to be!”

  “Sex and romance don’t interest me. Don’t get me wrong; Charlie is a charming demon belle, and Vaggie is adorable and feisty…but they’re just a means to an end. Maybe I’m too self-absorbed to want to deal with being judged by others. More fun, less responsibilities when you’re on your own. Though, I’ll admit, I did meet a lovely lady in my human life, but, certain circumstances led to a tragic end. Don’t get me started on Angel’s disturbing sexual remarks. That gross stuff makes my skin crawl. (Heh, that stuff bothers me but seeing the blood of my victims does not. Go figure.)”

 “When I smile and touch people, I’m in control. It’s the quickest and obvious way to show my dominance. Frowning shows doubt, weakness, and I can’t afford to appear weak. When other’s try to touch me, it’s always unexpected. I can never tell what it will feel like on me. My space, my rules. Touch me too much, and I hate it. Like when he…my father…did things to me…in front of mom. Abuse, molest, he did it to both of us when the drinks were in his system. You can see why I was shocked and overjoyed when I finally stabbed the life out of him. I fled into the woods in the hours before dawn, the police hot on my tail. Saw the faces of deer before I got shot in the head. The dogs came upon me and…nothing.”

 “I got my love of cooking from my mum. One of her favorite things to make was jambalaya. A tasty cuisine of rice, chicken, sausage, shrimp, a whole bundle of things. She added so much spice to it (and accidentally burned herself making it), it almost killed her. I thought it was fabulous, the heat invigorating to my taste buds. The secret spices she used by accident? Ghost peppers and Wasabi. It reminds me of home in New Orleans…a world of music, daily life, and alas, racism. People who didn’t know me at the radio station, white people and sometimes black people, badmouthing me for my mixed Creole heritage. Once I perfected my shooting with my rifle, well…they got what they deserved in the dead of night.”

 “Ah, I loved the stock market crash of 1929! There were so many orphans, so many kids in distress! Perhaps it made me feel better to know that there were those who had it worse than me. I’ve had my share of bad luck, it was about time for others to experience some of their own.”

 “I sometimes kill people at random, when I’m especially mad. It’s sort of like a game: the more you kill, the more dominant you’ll appear. I’m not fond of killing innocent children or chasing people, I mostly prefer to catch people off guard. To slaughter them behind the curtain, if you will. I would never rape or eat another person…such uncouth, disgusting behavior. Chasing my victims takes too long. Best to go at my own pace and decide their fate for them. But no worries; for women and innocent strangers, I make their deaths as painless as I can. Gotta keep being a gentlemen in some aspects.”

  “Voodoo had been practiced by my ancestors, way back in Africa. I read about the Loas and many of them were just like me: well-dressed, powerful, lovers of food, wine, the good life. From what was passed down to me, I was able to communicate with them. They granted me their powers to use in my afterlife…but only if I was willing to suffer an “early, gruesome death,” along with the loss of a potential lady partner… you know the rest. I know some of the symbols and they provide me with visualization of the spells I want to conjure.”

 “Singing, swing music, the radio, dancing, and dad jokes…those hobbies brought light to my otherwise mundane, grim human life. Even if other people don’t find those jokes funny, I always get a kick out of them. They’re so simple…a basic for any comedian. Though I do wish I knew how to tap dance. Maybe my magic can help me out...”

  Part 2 (Sensitive Content Warning)

 “Hello mortal humans, wherever you may live. For those who may not know me, I’m Alastor, the Radio Demon from Hell. Thank you for tuning in to 66.6FM, the only radio station in Hell and the only one I can talk into in your world.

 You may be thinking, demons aren’t real. Hell and Heaven aren’t real. He’s probably just using a low radio voice for effect. Well in a way I am, (laughs). But I can assure you…I’m very much real, though not really alive anymore. You see, with the help of some imps from Immediate Murder Professionals, my shadow has access to portals from Hell to Earth. He is Rotsala, and he can travel through radios like I can. He’s been lurking everywhere; in your car radios, those alarm clock radios you have in your homes. And recently, (with Vox’s help), he’s figured out how to access online podcasts, if that’s what they’re called. Thanks to him, I’ve gotten updates on your modern world. It’s very strange and very wild…I’ll never really understand it. Mostly because I’m from the early 1900s and I’ve been in Hell for decades.

 Now, if you remember from last time, I discussed my thoughts on the Hazbin Hotel in Hell and Charlie. About how she was a lovely friend and you she would be of great use to me to take her father’s place on the throne. And you got a glimpse of my love of cooking, sewing, singing dancing, along with the obvious killing and eating people part. I could talk for hours about myself, but not this time. On this broadcast, I’m here to talk about all of you.”

 “No, no, no, don’t try and turn the radio off. I have it stuck on full volume, so much that even covering your ears won’t do. You probably already know that I constantly smile to show my dominance and power. Frowning indicates weakness. But…I have learned there are a few exceptions when it comes to showing other emotions. I am…actually upset. Very rarely do you find me in this state. So unless you want my shadow to rip you apart from your insides, I suggest you listen very, very, carefully.”

 “First, let’s discuss this global pandemic that you all are dealing with right now. You refer to it as the corona virus or Covid 19. It seems that everywhere, people are dying right and left as this virus rapidly spreads. Jobs are being lost, entertainment sites shut down, people stuck in their homes for months, wondering if they’ll make it through all this.”

 “I’ll admit, this pandemic is just as entertaining as the Stock Market Crash of 1929. So many orphans, so many hungry people waiting in line for food, or not being able to be with their loved ones. Mostly it’s fun to watch because I’m already dead and I like watching others suffer. (sighs)”

  “But yes, it’s also a mixed bag. When I took a peek at modern New Orleans I was frankly stunned like a deer in the headlights. (audience laughter). How utterly lifeless it was! Bands not playing live anymore, restaurants closed. Even more shocking, Mardi Gras was cancelled! I grew up with the parades and the laughter and music in my previous life. To have all that taken away…I might as well have died sooner. It really is a shame how we take everyday life for granted…we’re not concerned about death or loss until it hits us right in the face. Trust me, I’ve been there. Back when the 1918 Spanish Flu killed my mother. Back when I cried at her gravestone even with a large smile on my face. That day that I lost all sense of humanity and became the demon I was destined to be.”

 “But what of you folks? You wear facemasks every day, you wash your hands, you pray every day that somehow, you and your families and friends and loved ones will get through it in several years. Maybe you will. Maybe you won’t. One good thing about the pandemic: the enforcement of the six foot rule. Social distancing is essential, and I think it should be mandatory in Hell! I hate being tainted and touched, that’s why I wear my gloves all the time. If only Angel Dust had that rule drilled into his head, it would make my afterlife so much easier. I always wash my hands before and after cooking, and especially after getting my victims blood all over them. You should too. Pure common sense. You can never be too clean and careful no matter where you are.  But enough about that.”

  “Hell is being more overpopulated than usual, and now I can see why. Thousands of people dying and being sent down here…I bet that stuffy hothead Stolas is having a party now that he’s not lonely anymore. You all are careless fools. You huddle close together during protests or pool parties or fight each other in grocery stores. All you think about is yourselves, hording toilet paper and food and not thinking of those who might actually need it more than you.”

  “That drama gets old fast, even for me.”

 “Many believe they have their rights taken away just because they can’t go to the Picture Shows anymore. Well let me tell you this: nurses, teachers, policemen, caregivers…they’re all risking their lives on the front line trying to heal others and slow down the spread of the virus. They witness deaths all the time and for every person they don’t manage to save, they feel guilt that will weight them down for weeks, months or even years. And the majority of you laze around, too absorbed in your own worlds to take notice.”

 “Want something to do to cure your agonizing boredom? Well, sadly, killing and cannibalism isn’t recommended as you would put your health at risk. But you can try new recipes at home. Learn how to make classic foods, especially good Creole dishes like Jambalaya. If you can make it better than me and my mother, I’d be impressed but we all know that’s not going to happen. Sing along to some songs. Listen to the radio. Watch some classic musicals.”

“Or for the online folk, watch the Hazbin Hotel! Make art and stories about me torturing my enemies. Laugh at all those who ship me with other characters because we know that I’m not interested in sex and romance. But to be heard…those who attack other people in the fandom over tying me down with Charlie and Angel and whoever else…stop it. Enough is enough. Respect other people’s fan works and let them indulge in their crazy imaginations. I belong to no one and I will befriend and flirt with others however I see fit. “Some asexuals and aromantics can still fall in love and enjoy sex.” Yes, that’s true, but my standards are different. Back to the virus…there are some people that deserve to get sick from it. The whole world could get infected and die but I’ll still be thriving in Hell…provided that I don’t get killed.”

 “I don’t really care about any of you. I’m just here to bring you the harsh truth. Doctors and essential workers are trying their hardest to make sure you all and enjoy your mundane lives. There’s no need to glorify them as heroes either. Just treat them with respect and move on. Patience is a virtue…I know that many of you need to go back to work, but putting others and the community at risk will just create an ongoing vicious cycle of misery. But if you want to expose yourself in the name of “making America great again” or wherever else you are, then be my guest. I’m always up for more prey to hunt down here.”

 “Now, onto the second topic: protests. Believe it or not, I, too, was saddened and shocked by the death of African American mortal George Floyd. He’s up in Heaven, not with me, so don’t fret.”

 “Yes, I’m entertained by the violence, cars setting on fire, the screams and yells, very thrilling! But to be honest, sometimes I feel safer in Hell in comparison to what’s going on in your world…and that’s saying something.”

 “All the riots going on, protesters being sprayed with teargas, being hit with batons. Looting, shooting, all of this madness going on. Charlie says that inside every demon is a rainbow, but I say inside every demon is a lost cause. Perhaps we’re both right. Though they’re may be some good inside everyone, we’re all imperfect lost causes. We’re subject to sin, violence, discrimination, and endless chaos. We are failures. It’s inevitable. There was no hope for me, and now there’s no hope for any of you.”

 “Police brutality needs to end. They are supposed to protect you folk, not use power to push everyone back for no reason. The rioters who looted stores, set cars on fire and put others in danger like that, need to take full responsibility for their actions. They don’t need to unleash their pain and rage onto the city and others. Killing and chaos is my job, no theirs.”

  “Racism, sexism, homophobia, they’ve been around since mankind became civilized. Black Lives do Matter. Those who have been downtrodden, beaten up, pushed to the side like dirt, need to have their voices heard. Otherwise, those in power will keep using and abusing their power and authority until there’s nobody left.”

 “Just take those white police and your president for example. The policeman arresting George Floyd and pressed a knee onto his neck for no apparent reason, other than he was a person of color who so happened to be caught doing something wrong, at least to them. He kept saying “I can’t breathe” and no one stepped in to stop the situation. The policeman was arrested but that’s a mere slap on the wrist in comparison to a life lost. The cops involved need to experience the same fate.”

 “And don’t even get me started on this Trump. A narcissist who sees himself as America’s God and has a cult of brainwashed voters and supporters. One who throws tantrums whenever someone disagrees with him. He sees women as sex objects and minority groups as tools and trash to be disposed of. Tear-gasing innocent protesters while holding a Bible posing for pictures. Satan himself would be shaking his head at this. Life on Earth was Hell for me and apparently it’s gotten even worse.”

 “And not to mention Trump boastfully claiming that he’d unleash vicious dogs and military force on protesters. Only a few people would see that he inadvertently made a reference to when African Americans and ethnically diverse people were attacked by police dogs when protesting and trying to make their lives better. As a biracial French Creole who was mauled to death by dogs, I’m offended and appalled.”  

 “Oh but I’m just a fictional character who can love or hate anybody. I bet I love Trump and Angel and world suffering and sex just because I’m a crazy furry demon. Right? Right?”

 *intense static and screeches*

 “GROW UP. WAKE UP. IF YOU THINK ANY OF THOSE THOUGHTS, THERE’S A SPECIAL CIRCLE IN HELL FOR YOU.”

 (deep breath) “Apologies.”

  “All Lives Matter? Wrong. A pathetic way to derail from the main problem and include white people so they can play the victim. The truth is, no lives matter except my own. Second to my life is my mom, Charlie and her friends. (Except Angel). Charlie’s project of rehabilitating sinners will eventually come to an end when humanity suffers a Greater Depression and all fall down into Hell. I have all of eternity to witness the end.”

  “Onto the last topic. You know that I secretly desire to take over Hell and spread chaos to Earth and Heaven, yes? If Charlie behaves, she’ll get to rule by my side along with Husk, Niffty, Mimzy and Rosie. Will that happen? Who knows? You’ll have to stay tuned for the next episode, if it even comes. (laughs). You’ll never know what happens next, just that everyone enjoyed my jambalaya at the hotel.”

 “Oh dear, did I strike a sensitive nerve? Did that hurt your insides and your mind more than our previous topics? You’re even more pathetic than I thought.”

 “But have you ever considered any underlying reasons as to why I enjoy spreading chaos and destruction? I may not be God but I do have god-like powers.”

 “The obvious answer? Sheer absolute boredom! I’m always seeking new forms of entertainment to enjoy. And what better way to do that then to watch sinners scream and tremble at my presence? Of course, I would always like my friends to smile and have fun with me, singing dancing, making deals, or whatever.”

 “But let’s say I was God? Why send Exterminators to reap Hell of demons every year. To curb overpopulation, yes, but to also remind demons of their place. God and the angels and the chosen reside in “paradise.” Only those who are fully “good” and devoted to helping others and believing in God can enter. It’s the perfect fear tactic: remind demons that they are lost causes who deserve to suffer and potentially met their end.”

 “Perhaps I do want to help Charlie with the hotel. Not just for entertainment but to introduce her to the way real life works. Seeing others fail will happen no matter what and that will be a pleasing sight. Demons reside in Hell due to the lives they’ve lived before. There’s no undoing what is done. Even if she does manage to redeem a sinner or two, there will always be those who try to claw their way up and then tumble back down to failure. I am a deal-maker, perhaps the most untrustworthy one in Hell. I want to test others, see how powerful and smart they really are.”

 “This all ties in to a larger lesson that is bigger than any of us can comprehend. With the pleasures of drugs, sex, killings and sin, comes the cost of knowing you are seen as outcasts deserving of death by those in the heavens. Whether it’s Angels, Exterminators, Overlords or people in politics and management, the elite have always used power, fear, rules, and any means necessary to keep people in line in the name of “order” and “God’s will.”  Lucifer would explain this better than me as he has centuries of experience. I’m willing to bet that Charlie will learn this the hard way, sending off sinners to “paradise,” only to find that she and her parents are stuck down here forever. Earth is between Heaven and Hell; it is full of good and evil, the sins and freedoms of Hell but also the passiveness and illusions and sheep mentality of Heaven. It’s all too easy to blame others and deny what’s going on around you. Go to Heaven for an enlightened life and forget about the criminals, the homeless, and the misfits below your feet.”

 “Let me tell you what my name means. It means “tormentor,” “avenger.” I’m a seeker of entertainment who loves to torment others to boast my status. But I am also one of vengeance. Retaliation against anyone who takes advantage of others. Those in Heaven, Vox, Valentino, Lucifer, my father, all of those who treated me like dirt for who I was… my magic is there to benefit myself…but it is all used to teach others a deeper lesson in mortality and what one believes.”

 “And me being an anti-hero could somehow lead to my redemption? Ha! No. As long as more episodes don’t come on the air, then I will continue my rampages and broadcasts in Hell. And if anyone lays a hand on me, my mother, or Charlie and my friends, then they will wish they had met their fate from the virus instead.”

 “Agree or disagree with me. I don’t care. Thank you for listening and as always, stay tuned.”

[silvanable]

Match-Up : Ikemen Sengoku

@moody-typos

heterosexual female . she/her . gemini sun . virgo moon . sagittarius rising . taurus mercury & venus . aquarius mars . isfp . slytherin . pukwudgie . chaotic neutral . choleric-sanguine

・・・・・

        i am definitely seen as an outspoken individual, most of the times optimistic and smiley. i am very playful and i do try my best to be as open and as approachable as possible. i enjoy making people laugh, smile and happy, and i try to help out whenever i can.

        however, as i can be very moody, some people would say that i am intimidating and very much cold upon meeting me, even if leaving such an impression isn't my goal most of the time. some have told me i am very secretive and mysterious as well.

        given what others have said to me, i appear to come across as independent and cheery, though overly blunt or even rude at times. if i want to leave a good impression, i will be pleasant and open, but if i want someone away from me, then i will be very cold and very serious — i am very much capable of both ends of the spectre.

        i am a playful individual and i can act childlike at times. i adore teasing others — you'll find me selling random stories to people just to mess with them —  and i find myself most comfortable in a relaxed atmosphere. in class, you will probably see me cracking jokes, pick-up lines and blabbing with teachers. i am excited person who loves challenges, so i am pretty much a 'fight me' or 'make me' kind of person.

        i have a large palette of interests and i am extremely curious; i am very likely to know bits and pieces about all sorts of stuff! i am very interested in medicine ( i'm studying it ), botany, astronomy, astrology, languages and so on. i am a fan of action movies, anime, horror games and stories, supernatural and paranormal, among other things. i also write and draw! that being said, i cannot do maths even if it killed me. i do get bored very easily so i will oftentimes switch back and forth between my interests and hobbies. i also love hiking and nature, and i am an equestrian, too. i like baking, but my abilities in kitchen, and around house in general, are very much limited. that doesn't stop me from adoring food, though — i am told i am a very peculiar ( and cute ) eater.

        i am a very opinionated person. it takes a path to hell and back to make me change my mind about something and i am very stubborn when it comes to my viewpoints. i think i can be considered narrow-minded given the way i speak, though i truly try my best to be the opposite — i strongly believe that world isn't simply black and white and that there is more to everything. i dislike narrow-minded people, honestly. i try my best to be logical and have down-to-earth, practical views. that's why many of my friends come to me for advice; they always say how they know i will tell them my honest opinion and not what they want to hear.

        i am very much argumentative and open for discussions! i don't have a problem expressing my opinions and thoughts, or asking questions; my curiosity drives me to do so. i used to have a shorter fuse in the past, though now i try to be more analytical. i enjoy topics such as philosophy, faith and psychology! i'm also very likely to ponder and ask questions about the said topics as i think about them a lot.

        despite my confidence, i do have moments where i can be very awkward when it comes to being given attention or speaking in public or so. as such, as much as i adore attention, there are times in which i'll completely despise it.

        my temper depends on my mood and surroundings; some people will admire me for my calmness and ability to not give a damn, while with some others i can get fired up and irritated very easily. i am the type to give silent treatment and say something really cold when angry — some people consider me to be very harsh with words, which is why i dislike occasions and people where i have to be careful about what i'm saying; i hate to be held back. i am very likely to be tolerating out of respect, but once i reach my limit, i will always open up and tell everything as i see it, which, again, mostly comes off as harsh.

        i also strongly believe in the 'forgive, but don't forget' policy.

        for someone so communicative, i am a very private person and kind of a 'hermit' — i am what you can call an extroverted introvert. i don't fancy the idea of easily opening up and you probably won't see me talking about my emotions. if i do end up opening up too much by accident, i will probably laugh it off, or brush it off as a lie, joke, or irony. i also don't like to cry in public and it's hard for others to imagine me crying, while in fact i am very easily pushed to the point of tears.

        speaking of emotions, i do find them hard to comprehend at times, as well as to express them. i am, in fact, very emotional person, but i do not know how to act upon feelings, so i will portray myself as a cool and confident individual. i find it very hard to say 'i love you', so if i am expressing my affections, it is through small physical gestures, dramatic/poetic speech, gifts and acts of service.

        and although everyone thinks the opposite, i am a sucker for affection and i adore physical contact as it is a way for me to express my emotions and affections. i consider physical touch —  such as cuddles, hugs and kisses —  to be my main love language, with giving gifts taking a second place or so. hell, i'd say that i am extremely touch starved. many people have the impression that i am very innocent, and while i can get flustered or awkward easily, i am very much not a pure angel. i consider myself to be a sadomasochist through and through, and i do have darkish tendencies and attractions. i am also kind of a tough-love person? to an extent?

        i value communication and honesty in relationships the most, although loyalty is a big thing for me as well. however, it might take me a while to come clean and be honest about my own feelings. i wouldn't call myself 'possessive', but i can get slightly jealous or angsty if i feel like i'm not in control or like i could be betrayed — i don't have all too pleasant experiences with past friendships and such, thus i have some form of a fear of betrayal or being replaced.

        in terms of romance, i dislike people who don't know what they want and who are incapable of compromise. along with that, i also dislike too childish personalities or those who are too dependent — i like to believe in a good balance between dependence and independence. i also value intelligence and capability of mental stimuli, too, as i am curious and love to learn, while also idealising a deeper connection more than just pure attraction. 

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ 

 it was a real toss up on deciding who i would do match-ups for you. my waifu deserves the best after all, so i hope you’re pleasantly surprised!

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦

↪  GUIDELINES

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦

ー Masamune Date : The One-Eyed Dragon

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦

this entire relationship would be exciting and challenging, without question.

you have a very strong and attractive aura about you, you have a presence in a room whether or not you want to be noticed.

you would have masamune’s eye right off the bat.

everything from the way you speak your mind so forwardly to the way you hold yourself so confidently would have him intrigued.

he’s never seen a woman like you before.

he would try to use his charm on you, flirt with you and try to enact his game of cat & mouse.

one of which you would not partake.

you were always so friendly and playful with people that when you sudden turn cold and serious on him, he’s taken by surprise.

i would be lying if i did not say that things would definitely be rough between you two because of your fear of replacement or betrayal-- masamune, while honest about what he wants from you and his intrigue of you, is not someone you would mark as loyal.

but just like you, he is curious and very stubborn, he would not give up.

masamune would use all he can as he gets to know you, even going as far to invite you to indulge in your baking in the kitchen

not to mention he would try to win your favor with his sinfully delicious cooking

he’s the kind of guy who would absolutely watch you as you eat, just admiring the way you do it and how you enjoy everything he cooked specifically with you in mind.

the moment he makes the mistake of upsetting you ( or worse, tell you he would kill you if nobunaga asked ) he would quickly find how mistaking he was.

suddenly that cold and distant woman comes back, except this one is far meaner.

you’ve been angry with him before, angry enough you were so fired up you yelled at him and avoided him. but this?

you’re giving him the cold shoulder, won’t speak or even look at him unless your duty requires it, and even then he gets no more than a brief nod or short replies

.it takes a lot to even begin to get you to be blunt and straightforward with why you were doing this to him.you might come to forgive him but you certainly would not forget what he said.

masamune would be a heavy mix of a physical and gift-giving person to show affection.

this man does not know what the hell personal space is & sometimes you swear he’s does it on purpose.

of course, you would constantly remind him that you cannot be bought, especially because you long for something more in a partner & azuchi’s resident playboy was not the candidate for that.

i feel over time you would grow closer though.

he is curious and very challenging, with your personality to challenge right back, i feel as if he could goad you into falling into a game.

he would try to teach you how to ride, only for you to tell him you can do so just fine by yourself, & he takes that to try and test you.

absolutely believe that was how you ended up in a race across azuchi castle grounds on who could beat who & little does he know you’re actually a skilled rider who can and does absolutely give him a run for his money

over time things exactly like that would bring masamune to realize he was falling for you.

you demanded respect and by God you practically wrestled it from this man & ever moment of it he enjoyed.

you definitely wouldn’t believe him the first time he tries to tell you he’s in love with you.

you had heard so much from him before and knew, from his very mouth, that he “sees what he wants and gets it”, so you brushed it off as another one of his games.

i see you taking a while to come to terms with any feelings towards him.

a lot of your emotions would be in conflict with themselves because of your logical & practical tendency but also because of your fear of opening up only to be hurt.

i would entire expect once you are certain of your feelings you would begin to express them through small gifts you made or even random hugs or smooches in the hall.

mercilessly surprise him in the middle of a conversation with a cheek kiss and then run-off, acting as if you had not just made a declaration of war because he couldn’t grab you and kiss you back.

certainly there are a lot of rough patches and difficulties you would face, it would be a slow development between you.

but the relationship would prove to never dull & could grow much deeper and closer together, as you both have a knack for excitement and dedication.

one last note but you two would absolutely mind fuck with the rest of the oda force by tag teaming them with your troublesome duo, masamune would bait them in and you would absolutely drag them under with your wild, teasing & stories.

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦

[beanenigma]

MAKE THEM FAT, YOU COWARDS!

A small guide to writing fat characters, by @beanenigma​

As a writer and an illustrator simultaneously, I have the incredible privilege of being a spy for both sides and comparing the community of both hobbies/jobs all in the comfort of my blog. And for a while I have been seeing something that makes me very happy: an effort from the artists to include bigger body sizes in their art - me included. But, on the other hand, I don’t see the same effort in the books I read except for tokens who don’t make that much of a difference to the plot and are only there for certain effects. . 

And even then, the only purpose them being fat serves is them being underestimated, weak, bullied or made fun of. So, with 20 years of being fat in my belt and having suffered through a lot of enraging fat representation in fiction, I compiled this list of things I would like you to remember when writing fat characters:

If you’re character is fat, call them fat 

Have other characters refer to them as fat. Have them refer to each other as fat. Fat is not a bad word… Unless you use it as a bad word. Going around the bush makes it feel like it’s something that should be hidden instead of a natural feature of your character, like being tall or blond. 

Getting thin is not the ultimate victory

 Nothing makes a fat reader feel worse about themselves than this narrative. Not everyone can or wants to get thin. And getting thin won’t fix all of their problems. Especially the emotional trauma of being told (and constantly reminded) the way you are naturally is unfit for life.

Also, getting thin shouldn’t be the only thing on their minds all the time. They should have hobbies and friends and other worries. And if losing weight is the only thing they can think about and plan for, they are probably sick and they need professional help. Eating disorders are real even if we don’t talk that much about them anymore. So keep watch on your characters if you didn’t intend them to be sick. 

Society? B*tch, please

Don’t blame SOCIETY. Society is an abstract concept made of people. People tell fat people shitty things and write shitty things in magazines and purposefully don’t hire them for TV and movies, not “society”. Name the enemy. We know who it is. 

FAT ≠ UNHEALTHY or UGLY

Fatness is not all the same. We are not all thin children that got fed McDonalds and somehow ended up like this. Some people have different metabolisms, genetic components, thyroid disorders, etc, but otherwise are perfectly healthy.

When writing AUs, science and historical fiction, remember in other times, fat had different social meanings. In renaissance Italy for example, the giocondas represented the wealth of the emerging bourgeoisie. Our ideas of fat are very conditioned to our place and time - that doesn’t make them the absolute truth.  

You don’t have to have one designated fat character. 

Make more! Make two! A hundred. Make secondary characters. Background characters. They are not points outside the curve, something that is wrong and should be handled like hot potatoes. They’re a large part of the world’s population (in 2013, there was an estimate of 2.1 billion obese people in the world). 

Choose the right bod! 

Like I said before, not all fat bodies are the same. The artists can help you with these and doctors can too, as well as women’s magazines (surprisingly). Choose your prefered body type keeping your universe and backstory in mind. also, personal choice, let’s normalize stretch marks, they’re so pretty and every girl has them, mention those awesome stripes please? 

Finally, fat characters are characters like any other - that also happen to be fat. They can and should have wishes, dreams, hobbies and relationships. The reader should be able to remember something else about them other than “fat”. Make them human. Please. 

Now, with that being said, being fat can be a great plot device as a physical obstacle towards some objectives. So here’s other obstacles for you fat character that would definitely be more interesting than what’s currently out there: 

Self-esteem issues

Not that we haven’t seen this before in media, but it’s normally caused by constant teasing and bullying. But the thing is that just like it happens to a lot of people with noticeable features, we are painfully aware of our weight at all times. There is really no need for someone to come up to us at our face and say “I hate you because you’re fat”, because we feel that constantly in everything that we do in society. Not that everyone lets themselves be taken by these kinds of stuff - I know some kickass models who couldn’t be more happy to have the body they have - but these things tend to collect a price on our self-esteem (big or small). So keeping that in mind might help not clutter your narrative with unnecessary violence. 

Medical negligence

I know fatphobia is a word people have a hard time believing is real (and I know it sounds weird), but it’s a real thing that happens. Just while writing this, I asked two friends and they both said that they had their concerns ignored by doctors that claimed their ailments would all be fixed once they lost weight. Both me and my mother had that happen to us as well. 

Not to say that weight can’t cause sickness (because it does), but people know their bodies and they know when something is wrong. Personally, I would find it hilarious if a fat superhero went to a doctor to try and find out what their powers mean, for example, and got out with the recommendation of a nutritionist. That’s some relatable content right there.  

Exercising is hard

I know. I know, it’s hard for everyone. But there’s a reason people tie weights to their limbs to carry around when exercising. It makes it harder. We’re carrying a lot more weight on our bones. Muscles get tired easily (and hurt after). Backbones are under a lot of pressure; feet are tortured; speed is decreased. So honestly, no need to trip on the way. Your fat character can run just as well as everyone else on the team, they’ll just get tired faster. Which is great potential for showing physical strength on their part, keeping up with them without showing discomfort. 

AGAIN, REMEMBER: Being fat not always equals being unhealthy. Not all fat people will struggle with exercise. You must decide what’s the case of your character. 

There are sports in which broader body types might be ideal - wrestling, for example - but they could also perform others and be good at it. And if you disagree, I’ll eat you. 

Clothes won’t fit/places don’t have their size

We all remember Mean Girls, when Regina gains weight and the lady tells her she should go shopping elsewhere. Sh*t’s funny, right? Not really. 

But this issue can go further than regular frustration during shopping. What if they want to be a cheerleader and there’s no money to get her uniform (despite them making the team and everyone else getting one their size?). Or, what if, as a superhero, they can’t find the right measures for a uniform that suits them? Or the right mold for knight armor? Or the right size of space suit to go out of the ship in a crisis? It makes you feel unwelcome, unfit, too much, even when people are doing their dang best to help. 

It’s a great opportunity for showing the perseverance of your character or introducing that awesome supportive character who understands. Still on the topic of clothes that won’t fit, here’s the places where normally there are issues:

Thighs and butt (mainly) 

Breasts (for inverted triangle girls, it’s common to have tight clothes at the boobs and loose lower). 

Arms (sometimes they fit but you can’t stretch your arms ahead or up without having the shirt going up)

Waist (and not necessarily belly; when things have a very slim waist, it gets crumpled and what’s down is projected by the belly.

Belly (if you really must)

Chairs are not suitable

Chairs don’t have to break to be mortifying to sit in. Personally, stools are terrible because my thighs go bananas over them. Swallow them whole, and I feel unstable. Some chairs simply won’t be comfortable because parts of me are not on top of them. Having to have someone bring you a special chair is humiliating. 

What if the spaceship was built for slender species? How about the conquerer queen who, upon looking at the pathetic small throne of the territory she just took over, splits it in how with her mighty swords while her new subjects watch in horror as she destroys millennia of history? 

So with those tools, I trust you will not be a coward and give us a thought the next time you’re thinking of your cast of characters next time.

Feel free to reblog this with your own aditions and follow me for similar content! 

[crystallized-iron]

So I got bored and answered an entire ask meme.

Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic.

My comfort zone for writing might be emotional angst. 

Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

Sci-fi, the kind with ships and space aliens, probably similar to Star Wars but with my own spin on it

Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole?

I wouldn’t be so dramatic with the wording, but I will not write kidfic (that’s when some are kids and others aren’t, right?) or de-aging. I would only write characters as kids if it’s part of a super long series and they all age together. And I haven’t even done that.

How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?

Charles Xavier supposedly died but his consciousness was recovered by scientists and then transferred to a cloned body of his. Then they get scared when he starts to actually use his power.

Share one of your strengths.

Painful scenes.

Share one of your weaknesses.

Fluff

Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

He rubbed his head. They just would not stop.

- sun is dropping - did you hear - the bodies should -

Bodies?

- be at the bottom -

His hand lowered to his side. Did he catch the thought of a murderer? He could pick it out over the usual hum. So he was nearby.

The door to the inn opened and someone walked inside.

There was a flash of a moment in Charles’ mind. A group of men. Their faces pierced grotesquely by their own fishing hooks. And dragged to the bottom of the sea.

The screaming was chilling. But… but...

It was no ordinary person that committed that sinful act. He was gifted, like Charles himself.

Someone bumped into him and Charles caught the image of a girl. Bruised. Starved. ‘They give one fish for using us.’

‘Using you?’

‘Our bodies. We would fight, but… Food is food.’

“Private room for one if you can.”

It was not out of pure cruelty, not from an evil nature. He was stopping those that brought pain to others.

“Charles, let’s go,” Raven said, key in hand.

“He is with us as well,” he stated, getting the man to turn and stare at him.

======

The Gifted, Chapter One

I like this scene here. We see Charles’ just picking up the thoughts of others because he cannot control his powers yet. We get a glimpse into what Erik did, and even why he did it (although that is also an earlier scene). But the closer Erik gets, the more Charles can see, showing that proximity is a big factor in what Charles can see when it comes to mind reading.

Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Charles faced him. “I am not sure how much I can tell you.”

“You read my mind.”

“It is the loudest.”

Erik folded his arms. “So what can you tell me?”

“Only about my life after the age of twelve. But I warn you, I am terribly boring.”

“You are a mind reader. How is that boring?”

“But that is just what I can do. Aside from that I'm a boring person, really.”

“Let me decide that,” Erik said.

Charles nibbled his lip while he decided where to start, his mind catching a question from the other man. “Of course you would want to know more about that.”

“Of course. Because you were hurt.”

Shaking his head, Charles said, “I really do not know who she is. That all happened just before Raven.”

“What do you mean, just before?”

He gazed at the floor. “My earliest memory is running. Just running. There is nothing before that.” His arms came up, wrapped around himself. “There is just the stars above me, the cool breeze, the night sky. Cold grass beneath me that crunched with every step.”

Erik came closer.

“My lungs were burning, my heart was racing, I… I just kept thinking ‘run’.”

“And you don’t know why.”

“I don’t. I was in the woods. And I tripped over a tree root. I suppose it was lucky. Raven happened to be hiding nearby. She found me.” He raised his head and looked at Erik. “In the dream, that woman… she… you know.”

“Choked me,” Erik finished for him.

“Yes. Well. That part, it… it must have really happened.” Charles swallowed down the emotions trying to force their way out. “I didn’t… I didn’t know until she said… there were marks.” He moved a hand down his neck. “I know my power is protecting me. Or I would remember all of it, or… maybe be even worse off. Not sure. But whatever it was had to be... really, really horrible.”

Erik stood in front of him. “But you survived it.”

“I don’t know how. I… don't want to know.”

=======

The Gifted, Chapter Four

This scene, I think I pulled it off well. Charles’ emotional explanation of what he does remember from the time just before meeting Raven.

Which fic has been the hardest to write?

That would be So Beautiful, simply because there’s a lot of subs but no comments, anywhere, period. The number of comments really does make a difference in how quickly something might be updated, you know. (And at this point, I’ve temporarily fallen out of MCU love and am now focused on X-Men, cherik specifically)

Which fic has been the easiest to write?

Currently, that is The Gifted. I’m already writing chapter 8, but only up to 5 is posted so far. Probably a good thing because I edited both 6 and 7 maybe three times now.

Is writing your passion or just a fun hobby?

Both. I am passionate about writing, but the fanfiction part has to be a hobby. Now I just need to get working on my original work more.

Is there an episode above all others that inspires you just a little bit more?

For me it’s moves, and probably X-Men: The First Class right now.

What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across?

When you’re writing a fight scene, you are doing it because you want the character to get hurt. Even if they run away, you need to have the injury goal in mind, because that determines the way the characters move and all that. So decide the injury goal first.

What’s the worst writing advice you’ve ever come across?

Never use -ing, never use -ly, never use blah blah blah.

If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

I can think of three right away, but I would say The Gifted.

If you only could write one pairing for the rest of your life, which pairing would it be?

Fuck... right now, cherik.

Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

Generally start to finish, but I will occasionally outline random scenes for the end. I’m always planning for the end and then get stuck in the middle.

Do you use any tools, like worksheets or outlines?

I’ve tried. Right now I have a tiny notebook map for The Gifted, and a few scenes outlined, but that’s it.

Stephen King once said that his muse is a man who lives in the basement. Do you have a muse?

I don’t think so. I wouldn’t know if I do or not. Maybe it’s James himself lol. His various characters influence a lot.

Describe your perfect writing conditions.

Cat is napping, tv isn’t super loud, I’m not expected to socialize, nothing I want to pay attention to is going to be on, it’s not after 9pm yet, I have ideas and the perfect soundtrack and plenty of empty pages to use.

How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

Depends. Prompt fills are lucky to get any revision. The Gifted goes through my own editing as well as my beta’s. Promised Love and A Lie to Live, when they were getting weekly updates, had one revision each, right after typing, and then were immediately posted. I stressed over those two a lot during that time though. Not doing it that way again lol.

Choose a passage from one of your earlier fics and edit it into your current writing style. (Person sending the ask is free to make suggestions).

From Comfort Original:

It had been a bad night, the tower getting cooler than usual as the wind whipped around outside. Even with how well it was built, the windows still had a slight rattle against the force of it. Bucky hated the cold, too many negative memories involved. Watching outside, he knew he was safe, knew that the chances of something coming up this high, without him noticing it, were extremely low, but he still worried. He couldn't go back to Steve, though. Things had been getting a little complicated between them, mostly due to the man that had taken them in.

Edit:

The wind howled outside, chilling the tower more than usual. The windows rattled with every strong gust. Bucky stared outside. The cold reminded him of being thrown from the train, of being frozen for days, weeks, months at a time. It made him think of HYDRA, and even though he knew the chances of anyone sneaking up on the team here were extremely low, he couldn’t stop the worry from creeping up on him.

But he couldn’t even seek out his best friend for comfort after their fight over the man that had been kind enough to take them in.

If you were to revise one of your older fics from start to finish, which would it be and why?

I already decided I will be doing this for A Lie to Live, because I know I can write it so much better now.

Have you ever deleted one of your published fics?

Never. Anything I’ve ever posted, you can still find it if you know where to look.

Although it looks like one site decided to delete my work. And my account. I have backups on my flash drive, I’m pretty sure, but still.

Always back stuff up. This was mostly original though. Too high rated for fictionpress.

What do you look for in a beta?

Mostly that they will be okay with the content I want to create. I tend to write darker stuff (had a beta for violent vampire fic and have a beta for dark x-men fantasy au), so it’s good to know they will be okay with that. Also things that I think may be triggering, I mention ahead of time before I write it. Just to be sure everything is still good.

Do you beta yourself? If so, what kind of beta are you?

I tend to be my own beta and mostly catch typos and reword stuff, change the flow if I have to, maybe move a scene or a chapter.

Being a beta for others? I fix grammar mostly. I feel like I’m shit at suggestions though lol.

How do you feel about collaborations?

I love them but they never get finished lol. There’s two people I’ve collaborated with on different stories over the years, one I started a page with, and someone that was interested, but that’s it.

My only issues these days, with the invention of google docs and able to write back and forth and all that, I am a shy writer so I will wait for the other person to leave the document, especially during... certain scenes...

And also, that the breaks in between adding a part does not exceed a week. The last one I worked on has now passed a year since anything added, so I don’t think it will be updated again any time soon.

Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

LadyDarkPhoenix because she got me into fanfic and into the MCU fandom and her ideas are awesome. One of the people I’ve collaborated with for years over different stories.

NotEvenCloseToStraight has some of the best fics. I haven’t read any for awhile for a variety of reasons (not to do with her, my own distracted mind and now fandom switch really) but she is amazing and a sweet person.

Kellyscams has written some amazing stuff. Just, really check them out.

If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

Um... Oh, this is tough. I think I’m mostly reading prompt fills and wips right now.

Maybe a sequel to Coming Home by helens78, only because I didn’t know how much I wanted Wesley/Charles until then. And then add in the implied interest in Erik as well, and yes.

Do you accept prompts?

I do.

Do you take liberties with canon or are you very strict about your fic being canon compliant?

It varies. Prompt fills lately are more canon compliant, but if I’m doing chapters, it’s way AU.

How do you feel about smut?

I love reading it. I somewhat write it in collaborations.

I panic and stop every other sentence when I attempt writing it alone.

How do you feel about crack?

It can be good.

What are your thoughts on non-con and dub-con?

Depends on the character and the situation.

Would you ever kill off a canon character?

I’ve killed Tony at least twice now.

Which is your favorite site to post fic?

AO3 for sure.

Talk about your current wips.

The Gifted is a fantasy AU in the X-Men Alternate Timeline Movies fandom

Promised Love is an arranged marriage fantasy AU in the MCU fandom

A Lie to Live is a fantasy AU in the MCU fandom

So Beautiful is a modern, no powers, college AU in the MCU fandom

Help Me is a sequel to Bite Me and it is a vampire au in the MCU fandom

Talk about a review that made your day.

This chapter made me feel feelings. My poor boys! :'( And well done with Erik's anger, lashing out and the aftermath. I understand you are upset, Erik, but that is not an acceptable way to treat a friend. And it's good that you realized that too.

===

This one especially. Also their previous two comments.

Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

Not really. Not since, like, high school.

That was a long while ago. I was still really into the LoTR movies.

Write an alternative ending to [insert fic title] (or just the summary of one)

Bite Me

Bucky tried to block Aldrich’s blows with his arms but the monster gave him a harsh stomp to the stomach. Bucky coughed as he rolled onto his side, tasting his own blood in his mouth.

“I truly did want more of a fight than this out of you. How pathetic.”

“T-think so?” He looked up to see Tony coming back.

Aldrich caught the stare and turned, grabbing onto the wooden stake made from the leg of a desk.

“Shit!” Tony struggled.

“Thank you, Anthony.” Aldrich yanked the stake from Tony’s hands and, finding Bucky on his feet, thrust it through the other vampire’s chest.

“No!” Tony cried, trying to get past Aldrich to reach the man he loved, but his Master gripped his shoulder and threw him back.

“You were perfect,” Aldrich growled, “but I will never have your heart, will I? Not as a mate.”

Tony blinked away tears that threatened to blur his vision. “Never.”

Leering at the vampire that held Tony’s affection, Aldrich shoved the stake deeper, Bucky’s cold, dark blood gushing out around it, and then pulled it free.

A grotesque, thick flow fell from the hole in Bucky’s chest.

“No, no, no!” Tony needed to reach him, but he froze once the already stained wood pierced him next.

“You can join him, Anthony,” Aldrich spoke so sweetly, giving it another push to be sure neither would leave.

Tony stared at him. His chest felt wet, cramped, cold. Fear shook his body.

His knees hit the floor. “B-Buck...y...?”

But no response came.

As Aldrich walked away, Tony found himself all alone in a place that reeked of blood and horror. His vision began to falter. He grew so tired... so very tired... so very... very... tired...

[creek-cryptid-deluxe]

WARNING DRAMA AHEAD

(Which is crazy because I try to actively have a drama free lifestyle)

So, awhile back I wrote about some issues in a friend group containing A & Em. Summary: I chatted with Em about A unintentionally making me feel shitty for FINALLY accepting my limitations & making lifestyle & wardrobe changes to reflect that. Em said she'd talk to A because if I did it, A might feel attacked & get defensive.

Day before yesterday, Em dropped by to hang, help me put together a shoerack, and go to a local costume shop that does rentals and serves all the theater departments & dance companies in a 70 mile radius. This shop is amazing, been around since I was little, almost everything is hand made with amazing care and detail, and the decor in their shop is ever changing, detailed, and super fucking cool. ANYWAY, we got on the subject of A, whom I've only seen once or twice since talking to Em about it & seemed ok both times aside from getting legit pissed that I'm better at macrame plant holders than she is. Apparently A currently thinks I dislike her or like her less or something. So I asked Em if I should gently talk to her about it and see if we can reach an understanding. She said she thought it was a good idea h really, I don't like one of my friends thinking I dislike them. So yesterday I pulled together some courage and messaged her. The following is the conversation that occured:

Me: So, I've heard that you are upset and under the impression that I don't like you anymore or like you less or something. So I'm gonna clear the air, but I'm gonna be blunt and honest with you because I'm not down for lying. K? (And let me go ahead and flat out say, I don't dislike you or like you any less)

A:I've just been feeling some reservations toward me lately. Go ahead I can take blunt.

(Spoiler: she cannot take even sugarcoated gentle level blunt)

ME: So here is the deal. My illness is eternal and is only ever going to get worse. In fact, it is constantly getting worse in small, large, and sometimes interesting & unexpected ways. Sometimes it creeps on slowly, sometimes it hits like an anvil was dropped on me. Therefore I am constantly having to adjust my lifestyle, activities, wardrobe... EVERYTHING. Very recently, I realized that I have spent the last 3 years trying to live my old life and just cope so my quality of life has been SHIT. I've finally truly accepted the shithole that is my health for what it is and have started to truly make real adjustments to my lifestyle, hobbies, wardrobe, ect. Because I will never get better and live in about 400 sq ft (at best) that means when I realize something doesn't fit my abilities or needs anymore, I get rid of it. However, I always offer those things to the kids & my friends first before donating them. But here's the thing, when I offer these things to you, I get a load of questions & comments that end up making me feel like I have failed as a person for realizing what has taken me 3 years to realize. For example: when I told you that Julia's candles were my last batch ever, there were loads of 'have you tried...' and 'I'm sure you can find a way.' I know you mean well, but if I'm giving something up, I've truly tried ever avenue to make it work within my limits and it just doesn't. Even after I quit candles in May, I kept the stuff (which took up massive space) until August because I doubted myself and was reluctant to lose another hobby. But I need to face facts and be realistic. Same with the sweater. I am drastically altering my wardrobe for whatever the upcoming season is to fit the fact that I need my cane at all times now (POCKETS) and the fact that my clothes need to be comfy enough for me to get dressed every day not just days I'm leaving the house. I've lived in PJs for the last year and a half and it's not good for my mental health. So all things that don't fit that criteria or my new altered lifestyle must go. And it's going to be a constant process because I'm constantly getting worse. The jewelry making stuff, I genuinely forgot you wanted it because honestly i don't even remember what happened yesterday, so I'm sorry. (I had jewelry making supplies that I can't use anymore due to -15 hand strength, which I gave to Em.)

A: I'm sorry that I've been putting you down and making you feel shity. That's never been my intention. If I ask a ton of questions it's not because I don't understand the severity and challenges in your daily life. I ask so many questions because I often find unconventional wacky solutions to peoples problems all the time and if I can be in the slightest bit helpful in finding a loophole or a way you might not have seen, I thought that would be better than just saying "I'm so sorry to hear that" I figured you hear that enough but idk how often you hear people actually trying to find a way. Like the sweater example, I would have been happy to take you shopping for a fun print material the made you some pockets. Outside like a cool patchwork with awesome prints, or inside like a bond detective. But you were so quick to snap at me and explain your whole situation like I am not taking you seriously. I ask because I want to hear your needs and maybe just maybe be able to help out. But if all I do is make you feel like your grandma did then I'll do you a favor and stop inviting myself over to make you feel shitty. I'm glad Emma always knows just what to say.

Now at this point, I stopped replying. I was kind of shocked at her response. Like, I expected her to explain her intentions, despite me making it clear I knew her intentions were good, because that's what people do. I expected us to discuss how things should be moving forward so I don't continue to feel like a failure. I considered maybe mentioning somewhere in there that if I want help or advice or solutions, I'll fucking ask. But I did NOT expect those last couple sentences where she basically stomped her feet and said well since this isn't going how I want, I'm not playing with you guys anymore.

After careful thought, writing & editing over a 5 hr period, I sent this (which are screenshots from my notes because typing is rough, I wanted to convey what I wanted just right, and now you have to click on them to see the full thing. I'm sorry I've failed you, the reader of this normal convo turned melodrama, in such a fashion.):

She responded at like 2 am (when I was asleep) so I saw there was a response when I woke up, but given the history of her behavior in situations like this (conveyed via Em, who has known her MUCH longer) I decided not to open it just yet, as I'd like to relax and enjoy my day. This shit stresses me out. I don't do drama and tantrums. I don't tolerate it from my teenage Spawn, much less fucking adults. I get the feeling that the response is going to be just as melodramatic & tantrum filled. If this is how she handles her intentions not aligning with the result of her actions that were driven by said intentions, then she's in for a real shock when she leaves the cuddlebox of college and enters the real world. Your boss isn't going to care about how good your intentions were when you accidentally burned down the kitchen of the bakery you work in. They will just care that you burned down their fucking business.

Welp, may as well rip off the bandaid. For you, my dear reader, to have closure I will read the response. Back in a sec.

OMG IT WAS SO MUCH MORE DRAMATIC THAN I EXPECTED.

A:I understand. And I told you where I stand. I am the type of friend that instinctually tries to help those she cares deeply about. I'm not the friend to just sit and feel bad when there's something I can do. But I have been feeling for a while now unwanted and you have confirmed it by not saying anything then, just talking about it to my former close friend, and then throwing it in my face that you have been holding on to a box cuz of me. And like the adult i am, I don't see why I should change the type of friend I am just because some one is ungrateful for it. I'll go help someone else leave their abusive boyfriend's in the middle of the night. for the people I care about I'd do anything, anything except sit and do nothing while I'm told how much worse I make things when I try and help. I will just take my good intentions elsewhere. I have had the worst year of my life but I don't remember you asking me once anyway. I wish you the best buy obviously your life is better without me and my negativity in it. I truly am sorry I hurt your feelings and I never ever wanted to. I cherished your friendship more than you'll ever know and you can ask anyone. But because I can't see myself sitting by biting my tongue around you and waking on eggshells because I clearly can't see the bounty between helpful conversion and being a cunt. Since I respect you so much I'll go ahead and remove that stupid cunt from your life so you won't be put down again.

HOOOLY SHIT. I'm not responding to that giant fucking dramatic pity party. She legit needs to grow the fuck up. Good god.

[kaiba-fangirl]

Fill in the questions/statement as if you are being interviewed for an article and you were your muse

Tag 10 people to do this meme, (repost, don’t reblog)

TAGGED BY: not @rogueprinceconsort =P & I know I’m not a RP blog, but I am a fanfic author so I still do the same kind of stuff, just everyone at once with chapters, so I’m sure ya won’t mind... idk itching to write Seto but his mind is all over the place in Ch7 of And You? (AO3/FFN), & I know I’ve missed a bunch of personal tags in the past, so, well, I’m here now. TAGGING: anyone 1. WHAT IS YOUR NAME?

“Seto Kaiba.”  (海馬 瀬人 Kaiba, Seto)

2. WHAT IS YOUR REAL NAME?

He narrows his eyes, already suspicious. “Legally, that IS my real name.”

3. DO YOU KNOW WHY YOU WERE CALLED THAT?

“I was born Seto,” he answers flatly, then smirks. “The Kaiba family name I earned for myself and my little brother at the age of 10, when Gozaburo agreed to adopt us thanks to my, superior negotiating skills.” [Seto after Egyptian Pharaoh Seth. Kaiba for, apparently, hippocampus/seahorse.]

4. ARE YOU SINGLE OR TAKEN? “Taken. Happily married to the number 1 female duelist, Mai Valentine. She’s now heading the new Fashion Tech and Merchandise Department at Kaiba Corp.” [but he’s also still looking >.>]

5. HAVE ANY ABILITIES OR POWERS? “Just bleeding edge technology development and superior dueling skills,” he shrugs smugly. [and hacking.] [You also accidentally activate latent magical powers every so often, dumbass. Sure he’s a genius. A genius that weaves techno-sorcery into everything & commands gods without even knowing it.] “Anything else you may have heard about magic or spirits or real monsters, is all just nonsense hocus pocus. It’s sensationalists trying to make our amazingly life-like holographic projections seem dangerous.”

6. STOP BEING A MARY SUE/GARY STU. “Heh, doesn’t that just mean born talented? You should be so lucky.”

7. WHAT’S YOUR EYE COLOR? “Blue,” he chuckles childishly. “It was probably what first drew me to, you know, Blue-Eyes, when I was young.” [It’s not. The Blue-Eyes White Dragon was his magical monster of light ‘girlfriend’ in Ancient Egypt in a past life of his 3000 years ago.]

8. HOW ABOUT YOUR HAIR COLOR? “Chestnut.”

9. HAVE YOU ANY FAMILY MEMBERS? “Living, my little brother, Mokuba, and now my lovely wife.”

10. OH? WHAT ABOUT PETS? “No pets. I barely have time for having two people in my life now it seems, and that’s even with Mokuba off travelling.” [any pet energy is expended on more Blue-Eyes White Dragon themed everything]

11. THAT’S COOL I GUESS, NOW TELL ME ABOUT SOMETHING YOU DON’T LIKE. “You wanna see a REAL Gary Stu?! As in, there is no reason he should have made it this far?! Joey fuckin Wheeler. This loser stole his way into my tournament, then has the nerve to even challenge me for 3rd place as if that meant anything, and he still ends up 4th even?! How! He operates on pure luck, and leeching off his ‘friends!’ His deck is a mess, I mean have you even seen his lineup?!?!” [Well that would all be redacted. Now, since this is for an interviewer for a published article...] He calmly and thoughtfully looks off at a spot on the far wall behind the interviewer. He purses his lips and furrows his brow, genuinely distraught, drawing from a direct encounter. “I’m actually more concerned than ever about the state of refugees- whether they have that official label or not. Around the world. Especially the children. These children don’t know what’s going on, and people say they care about children, but they really don’t. They’re not thinking of those kids- of refugee kids. Of poor kids. Of orphans or abused kids. And the way these refugees are being treated, those kids are getting hit with all those things at once. Ya know, I- I was fortunate enough to have that opportunity to be adopted, in a strong first-world nation, but I know what it’s like, to know that the grown ups are just using you, not listening to you. You’re nothing to them; maybe pawns. Now, I’m doing all I can, as president of Kaiba Corp, but there is still only so much we can do. We’re not making tanks or any weapons at all anymore-” He chokes at the thought of a tank staring him down specifically, compared to the latest news. He clears his throat to manage. “Not since the day I took over. We may not be contributing to that military industrial complex anymore, but the state of refugees today is still just as bad if not worse. Now they’re using weapons outlawed by the Geneva Conventions, and in countries that pride themselves on freedom and opportunity. Pteh. It’s madness. It’s evil.” [...aaand that just became the cover story] [We’ll be back after after a short break.]

12. DO YOU HAVE ANY HOBBIES/ACTIVITIES YOU LIKE DOING? “Besides dueling, uh, tinkering. Reading. Hacking into random databases I shouldn’t be in.”

13. EVER HURT ANYONE BEFORE? “Next question. Don’t even print that, or you’ll be hearing from my lawyers. And they don’t play so nice.” [By ‘lawyers’ I’m pretty sure he just means goons.]

14. EVER… KILLED ANYONE BEFORE? "No.” [Gozaburo.]

15. WHAT KIND OF ANIMAL ARE YOU? "Dragon.”

16. NAME YOUR WORST HABITS. "Tch, I wouldn’t have gotten to be president of a multi-billion-dollar corporation if I had bad habits.”  [That is literally his worst habit. Also how he got there is because of all his bad habits.] He chuckles at what he’s about to make fun of. “Then again, some people think that working too much is a bad habit.”

17. DO YOU LOOK UP TO ANYONE AT ALL? "How could I when I’m already on top?”

18. GAY, STRAIGHT, OR BISEXUAL? "Irrelevant.” He smiles menacingly. “Card games are more important anyway.” [Bi and trying to figure out how to tell his wife. Then again once he does that, the press will be easy. Possibly also grey ace or demi, since he does enjoy the physical aspects of being married & his crush.]

19. DO YOU GO TO SCHOOL? “Graduated high school early and then went right back to work as CEO, at the time. I don’t have time to waste getting a piece of paper to validate my knowledge that I’m already putting to use at Kaiba Corp everyday. --but I certainly support everyone staying in school as long as they can. Kaiba Corp offers a free college tuition program for any employee, paid ahead of time, and schedules can be worked around class and homework time as needed.”

20. DO YOU EVER WANT TO MARRY AND HAVE KIDS ONE DAY? “I never thought I would want to marry, but I have always assumed I would want to adopt. Now I am married, and we both want to adopt. Someday. It needs to be when I can have time for them...” [and he’s wondering why you are supposed to only marry one person...]

21. DO YOU HAVE ANY FANBOYS/FANGIRLS? “Yeah,” he laughs, genuinely embarrassed at this level of pure idolization, “I find it endearing to see people dress up as Yugi and I at events.”

22. WHAT ARE YOU MOST AFRAID OF? “Losing my little brother.”

23. WHAT DO YOU USUALLY WEAR? “Full-length pants, tight fitting turtlenecks, boots, and a trenchcoat. More leather and straps and buckles, the better.”

24. DO YOU LOVE SOMEONE? “Of course. My little brother and my wife.” [and Joey]

25. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU WET YOURSELF? [he just makes this face:]

[but possibly the last time he did hard drugs]

26. WHAT CLASS ARE YOU? (HIGH CLASS, MIDDLE CLASS, LOW CLASS) “Highest class.” He winks, for the spotlight.

27. HOW MANY FRIENDS DO YOU HAVE? “I don’t need ‘friends’ outside of my family.”

28. WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON PIE? “Finally, an intelligent question!” he laughs rudely. “My thoughts are that we should change the standard approximation for π to something closer to 3.16. That’s what I use in my calculations, and I find things just seem to work out better for me because of it.”

29. FAVORITE DRINK? “I’ve started drinking a lot more water, and I think that’s pretty much all I drink lately.”

30. WHAT’S YOUR FAVOURITE PLACE? “It’s comforting being in my office, knowing where I belong, knowing that with me there, everyone I love is safe, knowing how I got there, and being proud of all I’ve accomplished, but...” [sometimes anxiety about it being Gozaburo’s old office creeps into his mind like an evil spirit or ghost...] “But more than that, I enjoy the wild freedom of just taking my Blue-Eyes jet out with some good music playing.” [oh my various gods he will always be an emo teen at heart <3]

31. ARE YOU INTERESTED IN SOMEONE? He scoffs. “Yes, I am genuinely interested in my wife. Mai is an amazing person. And- Ah, and, um, next question?” [and Joey!]

32. WHAT’S YOUR BRA CUP SIZE AND/OR HOW BIG IS YOUR WILLY? “What kind of magazine is this for, anyway?” he asks as an aside, then thinks up a ridiculous enough response. “Ever hear of Zorc? I’d say that’s roughly one-third the size of mine.” Under his breath, he scoffs in disgust. “Imbeciles.”

33. WOULD YOU RATHER SWIM IN THE LAKE OR THE OCEAN? “Er, a private pool, thanks. Too many paparazzi anyplace else, and I wouldn’t want to close off anything from the public.” [I hear there’s a river in Egypt he lives in though]

34. WHAT’S YOUR TYPE? “Independent. Strong. Great duelist. Someone who knows what it’s like at rock bottom, but still managed to claw their way to the top...” [he spaces out off to the side]

35. ANY FETISHES? *zoom out to room full of Blue-Eyes White Dragon themed EVERYTHING* “Nah.” [*insert Will Smith presenting his AO3 tags]

36. SEME OR UKE? TOP OR BOTTOM? DOMINANT OR SUBMISSIVE?

[Switch! But “And You?” is stuck at a T rating, sooo...]

37. CAMPING OR INDOORS? "The fuck- you’re giving me whiplash with these questions,” he mutters. “Camping sounds nice. Real camping. Mokuba and I used to build forts and play outside a lot. I should ask him if he wants to go on a camping trip when he gets back. I doubt- well, no, I think Mai would like that, too.” [And Joey can cook them “candy bars!”]

38. ARE YOU WANTING THE QUIZ TO END?

[amadgirltm]

UPDATED: Verse 08: Corona

Verse 08A; Corona

Alice is considered Nobility, and once lived in Old Corona, until a certain alchemist happened to start causing chaos, and her home just happened to be caught in the crossfire.  Since then, her family’s moved to the inner city, but that doesn’t stop her from visiting the older city often.

Alice has taken a strong liking to astrology, and astronomy, and has begun to chart out the stars that she sees with her naked eye. Her goal in life is to eventually be able to afford a real actual working telescope, and to have her own space to work on her own star charts. As long as nothing goes wrong in the kingdom that is...

This Verse is Anything prior to the episode Queen for a Day

Tag: V.8A ( collecting stars and dreams );

Verse 08B: Stardrop

The Link to the Full Bio is HERE

But quick Synopsis: Alice has powers similar to that of the moon and sun drop, however, her’s are much more uncontrollable and are tied directly to her emotions. She must find a way to bring balance between the moon and sun drop in order to control her powers.

Tag:  V.8B ( shine brighter than the sun );

Verse 08C: Grown

Anything that happens when Alice is an Adult, she’s still living with her family, and is being sought after by a young guard named Daniel. She despises him, but her mother wants her to marry him. She’s searching for any way out.

Tag: V.8C ( woke up into a nightmare );

Verse 08D: Saporia AU

                    Everything happens the same until Queen for a Day: Varian ends up trying to get Rapunzel’s help with the Amber, however, She doesn’t help him (Just as in canon). He goes back & Ends up trying to free his dad himself but instead gets himself trapped in the Amber. Cue Alice finding him, and trying to get Rapunzel to help, again She doesn’t. She has to put the whole of the kingdom first. Alice does not fight Rapunzel, instead, she starts planning things, and then Rapunzel leaves on her journey to find her Destiny. Alice spends this time working, and studying up on Alchemy, and trying to figure out what exactly Varian used. 

                    Alice ends up in jail a few months later due to stealing stuff from the castle, more specifically she finds her way in and steals the flower. She ends up in the same cell as Andrew. She’s already figuring out how to escape, but they end up talking. He offers his assistance in freeing Varian and Quirin since none of her attempts have worked, He also promises a chance to get back at Rapunzel & co. Alice accepts, saying that she’s in charge though. And Proves her point by using her vorpal blade to get them out of their prison cell. (It’s magical, of course she still has it). 

                  They end up taking over the kingdom, Alice leading and planning things out the whole time. Unlike Varian, Alice actually is in charge due to her sword, her skills, and her lack of obvious remorse over hurting people.

>Verse will change depending on if Rapunzel returns, and if Rapunzel is willing to help Alice >Possible variant of verse: Rapunzel frees Varian and his father before stopping the Saporians, meaning that Alice is still in charge of the kingdom >Can take place during any point within this timeline

tag:  V.8D ( they’ll pay if it happens again );

Verse 08E:  Post Season Three

       Anything that happens after the first episode of Season Three/After Queen for a Day.

         Alice had been turned away from the guards every time she attempted to see Varian, leaving her feeling lost and a bit hurt. However, she didn’t give up on him. Not until he was suddenly taking over the kingdom, and working with the Saporians. Alice attempted to talk to him, only to be taken away by a few saporians (ordered by Andrew) to the mines, where she was forced to work for three days without breaks or food. (Varian did not know about this). 

         After the first episode of season three, Alice no longer trusts Varian, and believes it was him who forced her out of his life, and believes that he betrayed HER trust. She is very upset, and is not willing to talk things out, she’s angry, and depressed and feels alone. She’s not willing to trust ANYONE again (besides Feldspar). However, she still believes there’s good in him, and wishes she could trust him again. It will not take much to befriend her again, but a sincere apology and perhaps a bit of bribery by sweet treats may sway her back to his side. (How can she ever deny being such a sweet boy’s friend?)

Tag:   V.8E ( pull your knife out of my back );

Verse 08F: Adopted Sisters

      Rumors circulated Old Corona, that Helen Kingsleigh was hurting her daughter. Quirin, being in charge, ended up looking into the manner, and found the rumors to be true, although he couldn’t prove it. The daughter was easily given up, with Helen claiming she couldn’t take care of all three children. Taking the young girl home, he found himself unsure what to do. He already a three year old son, and had recently lost his wife- he couldn’t take care of another child. He called upon the Captain of the Guard, who came and met the four year old Alice, deciding to take her in himself. 

       Alice grew up alongside Cassandra ( @moonstonetm !), whom she looked up and admired greatly. However, Alice also finds herself constantly comparing herself to her sister, and finds herself increasingly jealous of Cass. Her love for her sister is never a question, but she tends to act out in order to try and get attention in any way she can from her sister (typically at Cass’ expense). 

        In this AU, Alice is being trained to be a guard as well, and while she is excellent, and even exceeding, at swordsmanship, she does not have the temperament or attention span to be a guard. However, Alice is still often assigned duties and jobs just as Cassandra is. She is never given an official position, instead she often sneaks out of the castle grounds and into the town, and even to Old Corona sometimes (often getting both her and Cassandra in trouble).

Tag:  V.8F ( i will guard you with my life );

Verse 08G: Warmonger Alchemist

Alice is a brilliant young inventor and alchemist, living with her father (a retired pirate) in Old Corona. She’s not the only one either! Nearby, lives the genius Varian, whom she often shares ideas and supplies with. Together, they’ve earned quite the reputation, labeled as a wizard and witch, who deal with dangerous and rare magic. However, they often work at Alice’s house more than his, due to her father being much more accepting of their unique hobby. While Varian often overlooks things, Alice tends to be much more particular in what they do, and will often stop Varian before his projects get out of hand. Together, they’re a real force to be reckoned with.

Then, Rapunzel showed up on their doorstep, asking for answers for her hair. Unlike in the series, it wasn’t one of Varian’s projects that caused them to receive no answers: no, it was a miscalculation that ended up labeling her hair as a rock instead. Varian also has no need during the expo to look for a partner, as he already as has Alice willing to work with him.

However, the events of Queen for a Day play out VERY Differently, as Varian and Alice are both working diligently on trying to fix the rock issue. and Alice’s father comes to check on them, letting them explain what they were doing, before testing a new serum. As far as they know, it doesn’t do anything, and Alice’s father sends Varian home, also Sending Alice upstairs to eat something. This is when the Amber encased him.

Alice proceeds down Varian’s route within the show, slowly descending into her own madness and using manipulation, alchemy, Dinah, and her inventions to fight and try to find a way to free her father. Unlike Varian, Alice also uses these skills in both alchemy and wonderlandian magic to run away at the end, and get away from the Corona guard before she can be arrested.

Whether or not Varian helps her, decides to leave her, or fight against her is up to who ever interacts with this verse

tag:  V.8G ( there’s hell to pay );

Verse 08H: Replacement Rapunzel

          Helen never wanted the blonde girl, and it didn’t take much to convince the local ‘mayor’ of sorts to take her. After all, a baby is so much work, and what use for it does she have? 

           That’s how Quirin ended up swaddling the baby, only a few days old, in the Throne room of the Corona Castle. Unsure what to do with the child, given that he had his own to take care of.  The King and Queen took one look at the child, and felt their hearts stop. She looked so similar to the lost princess, until she opened her eyes, and bright blue stared at them instead of green. Sure, she was a few years too young, but she was still, practically perfect. Like a gift sent to them from the heavens.

                     The kingdom was growing worse every day, yes they prospered, but without the princess, and without security of knowing what would happen if something happened to the king and queen? Well, things were tense to say the least. 

                            So, they decided to take the young blonde, Alice, they were told her name was. But that would be the most well kept secret King Fredrick had. After all, the next day, it was announced that the Lost Princess had been found, by Quirin, along with the witch who had stolen her, and had kept her young. They displayed the long blonde locks, and the small baby that looked just like she had when she had been stolen. The Kingdom rejoiced.  Finally, Rapunzel was home.

            Growing up in the castle, trained in protocol, and royal duties, Rapunzel was practically a perfect princess. The only thing was that she always kept her eyes down, and out of sight at all times.

             Imagine EVERYONE’S surprise when Flynn Rider shows up with a woman named Rapunzel, with short brown hair and green eyes, whom he claims is the real princess. And the younger, fake Princess Rapunzel’s whole world is twisted, and suddenly she’s now the lost princess, just metaphorically. 

tag:  V.8H ( practically perfectly replaceable );

Verse 8, Version I: Moon Warrior

        Quick Synopsis: 

Alice is the newest addition to the brotherhood, however, her mission is not only to protect the moonstone, but to locate those left from the kingdom.

          Bio:

Alice was born, and instantly forgotten. She was found as a child by Hector. She was trained by him to be a warrior, a fighter, a killer. At age ten she was sworn into the brotherhood, pledging herself and her life to the moonstone, and to the dark kingdom. 

Hector, having to stay to protect the Great tree, has given Alice the task of locating any other members of the dark kingdom. Not to make them return, but to be sure that they’re alive. 

        Note: 

Alice has no knowledge of Corona, nor the people within it. She has no prior emotions for anyone. And is likely to treat others with hostility, and violence, have a lack of manners, as well as speak in a bit of strange ways. She also has a pet Bearcat, whom she rides, and who she calls “Teddy.”

Tag: V.8I ( Swear to the Moon );

 Verse 8, Version J: Trapped Within

    Alice wakes up being told that it is her Wedding day. When she looks in the mirror, it not her sixteen year old face that looks back at her, instead it’s some woman. One that she wouldn’t recognize without that typical blue ribbon in her hair.

     No one in Corona sees anything wrong with this, In fact, everyone is acting as if the missing four years had happened. Apparently, somewhere down the line Rapunzel and Cassandra had made up? Alice had gotten engaged? Eugene was prince now? Alice didn’t live with her mother.

            Honestly, it didn’t sound TOO bad. Actually, it was a dream come true. Which was Alice’s issue with everything. No one just FORGETS four years of their life, and when Alice shows up on time somewhere?

                 Well, she realizes, it’s time to wake up. And to figure out who-or WHAT- is trying to keep her here.

Who ever wants to interact with this verse can either:

                     A.) also be 'awake' and be aware that something is wrong

or

                      B.) try to convince alice that everything is fine and okay.

Tag: V.8J ( WAKE UP ALICE );