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twentytarot · 4 years ago

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hi everyone! i’m here with something a little different from my usual pick a card readings to celebrate 100 followers on twentytarot! it’s been just 2 short months since i’ve embarked on this journey to learn about reading for others and i’m really grateful for the support that the community has shown me since day 1. so i thought i would write about the spread i usually use for pick-a-card readings and give everyone a few tips and tricks that will hopefully be useful for you when you read tarot. thanks again for all your support, and i’ll see you in my next PAC reading! 🥰

the spread i use is a super simple 5-card spread with no fixed positions. i’ve seen people call this spread the intuitive spread or the storyboard spread, and reading it is pretty simple: you ask your question, determine the number of cards you will need (like i said, i use 5, but 2, 3 or 7 is also common), then pull your cards and line them up single file. then comes the hard part: actually understanding what the cards are saying, without having any real guides other than the question itself. i used to struggle with not knowing where to begin, how the cards linked or what each card meant when i was bombarded with so many different interpretations. these steps helped me become much more concise of a reader, and i hope they help you too! without further ado:

TIP ONE: COMMIT

and by commit, i mean: commit to your question and commit to your cards. you want your mind to be as uncluttered as possible when you ask your question so you can be sure when the cards show themselves they’re answering the question you had in mind. ask just one question per spread to avoid getting confused about which cards are answering which question. in this spread, your question is your guide, so you have to be extra clear and specific. if you intend to have 5 cards in your spread, then stick to 5 cards. especially in the beginning, don’t take extra cards just because they all fell out at the same time. if 7 cards dropped out of your hard at the same time, i encourage you to put them back and try again.

TIP TWO: COMMIT (again)

this tip is more on negative cards. don’t worry, i completely empathise with the panic that happens when the five of cups presents itself as the final card in the spread. i’ve seen people deal with this a few ways: some people pretend they didn’t see that and draw again. i really don’t recommend this. life is not always unicorns and butterflies, and redrawing a card is not going to change that. at best, your cards empathise and frame their answer more nicely, but at worst, you draw a meaningless card because of you’re panicking and not listening to your intuition, or your cards just straight up decide they’ve had enough. so commit to that negative card, and put it down on your spread.

the other way i’ve seen readers deal with this is to immediately draw clarifiers. i also don’t really advise this. for one, that’s not committing to the number of cards your spread was going to have, which is going to affect accuracy. for another, it’s going to clutter your mind. it’s going to cause you to want to zoom into the bad card and get to the bottom of it and you’re going to subconsciously neglect the other cards just because they didn’t worry you as much. a spread like this should be taken as a whole story, and you can’t just read one chapter and know everything about it, can you?

instead, i recommend that you leave that card alone first, and zoom out. there’s only one ten of swords card in the stack, buddy. i promise you, you’re not going to get fatally betrayed five times.

TIP THREE: ZOOM OUT

the best way to make sure you don’t leave any cards out while reading is to read them all at one go first. these are the things i pay attention to when i first look at a spread, in the order:

major arcana: are most cards major or minor arcana? are they generally positive or negative? what are the cards’ astrological equivalents, and do they link or hold any significance? for example, if your spread has temperance and the devil, then that suggests this prediction might come true towards the end of the year.

court cards: again, i’m looking for astrological significance here, and linking it to the major arcana if needed. i’m also looking for double counts (eg: queen of swords and justice) that would give hints about the people influencing the situation. there are also some cards that means certain people to me and my cards, so i’m also looking out for that.

dominant suit: i like to call this the “expectations vs reality” clue. for example, if i’m reading for romance and the spread is full of swords and pentacles, then unless i’m offset by some major arcana, i can be quite sure that romance isn’t really in my near future. of course, the cards can still be read for romance and i will, but it sets the scene. similarly, if i’m reading for work and i get cups all around, then the work itself is probably not going to be my main problem.

dominant number: this doesn’t give as much information as the previous steps, but it does help with setting the scene and vibe. for example, many 1s would suggest new, good beginnings, and 5s may hint towards tougher days in the future. for major arcana bigger than 10, add the digits together until you get a number 10 or less to get the representative number.

TIP FOUR: FIND THE “PARTITION”

this sometimes appears as a card, or an imaginary line. basically, it helps you zoom into sections of the spread and tie these sections together. “partition cards” are usually:

the only major arcana card in the spread

the one card with a completely different vibe / category than the cards surrounding it

the one court card in the spread

the one ace in the spread

and imaginary lines are usually:

between cards of two different suits

between patterns in cards (for example: page, minor arcana [break] page, minor arcana...)

between the last major arcana and first minor arcana card (or the other way around)

between sets of cards with different vibes

it’s not uncommon for more than one of these to show up in a spread, and sometimes they contradict themselves. sometimes there will be a tiebreaker. take this spread for example:

the king of swords is the only court card, but the ace of pentacles is also the only ace. where’s the partition? well, i’d personally place it at the ace of pentacles. notice how on the left of the ace if the four of cups: low in energy, lethargic. on the right are much more active cards. so the ace must be the game changer, making it the partition card!

the partition, depending on the question, means a lot of things. most commonly it points you to what causes a shift in energy for the querent. in the spread above, a new beginning will breathe new life into the querent and bring them out of their slump. other times, each side of the partition answers different parts of the question. either way, finding the partition will help you figure out where the querent is coming from, and where they’re headed. once you know this, then you can zoom into the individual cards and look for specific messages for your querent.

TIP FIVE: YOU AND YOUR CARDS KNOW EACH OTHER BEST

i try my best not to interpret others’ cards. sometimes i do, but usually it’s just for personal practice and i don’t tell them what i’m thinking, and other times i’m just trying to convince myself mark lee and i are meant to be. 😂 i kid, i kid. anyway, the point is that there are many ways to say the same thing in tarot, and the reason why your cards have chosen to say it the way they have is because they trust this is the way you will best understand. so don’t take that for granted! really take every card and stare at it until you know exactly what it’s trying to tell you. sometimes it’s instant, sometimes you only get it as you’re falling asleep, but you should trust that this message was written for you to understand, not for you to decipher. the more you trust your cards, the more they will trust you.

and that’s all! have a good day and stay safe, everyone 💕

#tarot #tarot cards #tarot tricks #tarot tips #tarot spread #advice from ella

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makeste · 6 years ago

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BnHA Chapter 199: One Whole Bird

Previously on BnHA: Aizawa’s winning class A team reflected on what they could have done better. Tsuyu and Kirishima were unexpected bummers due to their recent internships still weighing heavily on their minds. Shinsou was also frustrated with his performance, despite everyone telling him how good he did. Aizawa and Vlad told All Might and Midnight that today’s exercise is also a test for Shinsou to see if he should be admitted into the hero course. It’s not clear whether or not Shinsou is aware of this, but we’re all rooting for him! The second round of battles got underway, with Team KendouKuroMangaToadette facing off against MomoYamaTokoKure. Class B’s Kuroiro was revealed to have a quirk that allows him to move freely within anything black. This applies even to quirks like Dark Shadow, and once the match began, he basically dove into DS and rode him back to Team A’s location. Now he’s getting ready to throw down with Tokoyami, who has dramatically thrown his cape aside and is preparing to unleash the new technique he developed during his internship with Hawks.

Today on BnHA: Hawks is back! In flashback form. But he’s back, you guys! So apparently Tokoyami first interned with him after the sports festival, only to learn that Hawks mainly selected him to get the good gossip on the whole USJ attack. This frustrated Toko enough that he redoubled his training efforts, and when he went back to intern at Hawks’s agency for real after getting his provisional license, he impressed the #2 hero by being able to keep up with him. So Hawks took him on a cute lil nighttime flight above the city while A Whole New World from Aladdin played, and then they landed on a tower somewhere and Hawks was all, “hey dude you should learn to fly for reals,” and then the flashback ended. Back in the present, Kuroiro sneaks up behind Aoyama and grabs him and hauls ass. Tokoyami then reveals his new technique: Flying For Reals. He retrieves Aoyama, who fires his laser to break up the shadows around them, making it impossible for Kuro to hide. Things are looking good for Team A, but then a mushroom suddenly sprouts from Momo’s nose, reminding everyone that there are still three other Team B members to take care of, and things are only just getting started.

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my mostly-unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’m caught up with the manga now at chapter 222, so any ETAs will reflect that.)

ooh, and we’re opening with what I assume is an internship flashback!

well yeah, Mighty Wings is the type of quirk that allows you to do that. when you can individually control hundreds of little godmode wings that are strong enough to even carry people to safety, you don’t really need much in the way of backup

ah, so it’s confirmed this is Tokoyami’s narration

apparently the U.A. sports festival earlier in the year was the first time Hawks had ever taken place in the whole drafting process

hold up, so did Toko intern with him for both the jr. internship and the real internship? like, he did the weeklong thing following the sports festival, and then went back and interned there for real later? or was it only the first and not the latter?

lol Hawks is flying off to go save some other hapless soul. some out of control drunk dude at a bar in Cantina

I assume Cantina is a specifically a reference to the very famous Mos Eisley Cantina in Star Wars, even though it’s also a common enough word in its own right

lmao his sidekicks are all “yeah so Hawks is just generally better than us in every conceivable way and we just have to live with it”

these guys crack me up

so during his workplace experience Tokoyami just spent the whole time chasing after Hawks with these guys and handling the cleanup with them. so naturally it wasn’t long before he started having doubts about the whole thing

I was literally just about to say “because you’re both birds” and then Hawks was like “yeah, duh”

Tokoyami is asking if he’s joking, because Tokoyami doesn’t have a sense of humor so he probably genuinely needs to know

Hawks says he’s 20% serious. holy shit. that honest to god is what he said lmao

he says he wanted to talk to someone from class 1-A about the League of Villains, and he figured if he had to do so then he should pick someone he thought could keep up with him and who showed promise. and since Tokoyami finished in the top three he went with him

and of course we know from chapter 186 that he had selected Todoroki as well, but Endeavor got him instead

interesting that both he and Bakugou picked the highest ranking agencies on their list and ended up being disappointed. it seems like the people who had the most fulfilling internships were the ones who went with agencies that hadn’t necessarily made huge names for themselves, but were perhaps a little better at this whole teaching thing than some of the big shots

ah, and then Hawks did agree to take him on for a For Reals Internship later on, though

that means Tokoyami actually reached out to him despite his lackluster previous experience. makes me wonder if Bakugou would actually decide to go back to Jeanist’s agency once he gets his provisional and once the kids are allowed to do internships again

(ETA: so I’m honestly not sure if we’re even going to get back to internships again, at least not for a while, but one theory I’ve seen floating around is that Bakugou will intern with Miruko instead of Jeanist, and I gotta say, I really like the idea of that. for so many reasons. but basically it makes a lot of sense; Jeanist is still laid up, Miruko is a top 5 hero, and her personality aligns with Bakugou’s a whole lot more than Jeanist’s did. all this plus Fuck Yeah Girl Power, so hell yeah I’m all for it.)

-- YOOOOOOOOOOO

he can -- you can fly, dude? since when lmao what the fuck

(ETA: what is he doing here, though?? I thought he was flying but then a couple pages later Hawks is like “you should learn how to fly” and then a few pages after that everyone is shocked by his new “bitch I can fly now” special move. so it seems like that’s something he came up with after this scene. is he just jumping with style here or what)

Hawks likey! kid’s got some potential

now it’s later that night and Hawks is telling Tokoyami he did good

OH MY GOD

THIS IS THE CUTEST AND BEST THING THAT’S EVER HAPPENED. OH MY GOD. YOU GUYS. I CAN’T IT’S TOO FUCKING PRECIOUS OH SWEET JESUS

(ETA: so as you can see I was enchanted by this scene even before I learned about its significance as a beloved fandom meme. anyways so we all agree that this internship was destiny.)

TOKOYAMI IS SO OVERWHELMED. HIS POETIC SOUL IS SOARING LIKE AN EAGLE

OH MY GOD!!

HOW DOES HE REMEMBER THE CORRECT PERCENTAGE BREAKDOWN FROM A JOKE CONVERSATION THEY HAD LIKE SIX MONTHS AGO

SERIOUS QUESTION WHY IS HAWKS THE BEST CHARACTER IN BNHA. ANSWER ME. SOMEONE

AND LOOK AT TOKO’S FACE OMG

AHHHH

it’s so personal, though. like I honestly feel like he’s baring a bit of his soul to this kid, and for someone with a personality like Hawks’s that is huge

he says he’s not especially interested in nurturing the next generation, “but...”

well that’s fine dude. you’re practically still a kid yourself and you’ve got more than enough on your plate

but the fact that he does have so much on his plate makes me wonder what’s going through his head right now. because the whole workplace experience was before he started his undercover mission, but this scene is taking place afterward. and he always plays it cool, but that shit is dangerous, like one-wrong-move-and-you’re-dead-or-worse types of danger. and that’s not even taking into account the bad-for-your-soul parts that come with having to turn a blind eye to certain things for the sake of maintaining your cover for the greater good

so basically, despite what he says, he may just be feeling a bit more sentimental or brooding or whatever than usual, and maybe that’s what brought this on. he never particularly wanted to be a mentor, but hey, might as well give it a shot. life is short

so Toko’s asking what he meant when he said Tokoyami was wasting his potential

and Hawks says that while Tokoyami is doing a lot to cover his weak points, he shouldn’t neglect improving his strong points

one moment please while we process these Hawks feels ladies and gents

aaaaaaand done

my boy just wants to be free. okay. that’s fine. I’m fine it’s all good

nothing to see here, just some solid mentor advice pulling some double duty as a deeper look into Hawks’s psyche at the same time. just Horikoshi things

and we’re back in the present!

that was a much lengthier flashback than I anticipated, and thoroughly enjoyable! very nice!

so Kuro is blending back into the shadows and for some reason everyone is surprised

what else would he do. I mean. if it ain’t broke

so now he’s mocking them from somewhere in the piping, bragging about how they can’t tell where he is

oh shit!

so he’s planning on targeting one of the others? tbh that probably would have worked just as well even without the red herring, since they can’t see him coming

like, this would have worked no matter what though. but I guess it did get Aoyama to lower his guard

LOL MY POOR GLITTER BOY

FIRE YOUR DAMN LASER KID

ooooh

it’s so gross that he refers to it as an umbilical cord and now I’m never not gonna be able to think of it as that

so anyway, I’m guessing that this special move works by having Dark Shadow fly somewhere and then instead of retracting the shadow back to him, he pulls himself toward Dark Shadow

LOL

what, y’all didn’t see those flashbacks with Hawks just a few pages ago. pay attention to other characters’ life stories

ah, here are the mechanics explained to us in a cute little comic

“Dark Shadow can fly so one day I was like, ‘ohh... pick me up so I can fly too. fucking duh’”

also has the bonus advantage of distracting opponents with how shockingly adorable it is

so now he’s plucking Aoyama out of Kuro’s clutches

I bet Aoyama’s pissed that his cape broke in the process though

LISTEN HERE BITCHES, Y’ALL ARE GONNA NEED PLAN B, C, D, ETC. BEFORE YOU CAN EVEN COME CLOSE TO TAKING OUT MY GIRL MOMO HERE. YOU’RE GONNA RUN OUT OF LETTERS OF THE FUCKING ALPHABET YOU AMATEURS

she said, but also I’m still pretty sure they’re gonna lose fffff

since Aoyama and Tokoyami are now perfectly positioned, Momo’s telling Aoyama to use his navel buffet

ah I see, eliminate Kuro’s potential hiding places by blinding him with Aoyama’s splendor

so Dark Shadow is covering himself in Kuro’s cape and Aoyama is letting ‘er rip

this is such an odd and perfect sound effect and I’m really impressed with Horikoshi for coming up with it in English

aha!

GOTCHA MOTHERFUCKER

now Momo’s calling Hagakure to action, and for a moment I was like ‘why’ but then I remembered her special move

but before we get to that, please enjoy this Yaoyorozu Momo “just as planned” panel

yessssss now get ready for --

...

okay what is plan B

...

and the chapter ends. of course

chapter 200 is gonna be some wild times isn’t it. lol

#bnha #boku no hero academia #tokoyami fumikage #hawks #kuroiro shihai #aoyama yuuga #hagakure tooru #yaoyorozu momo #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #tomorrow's chapter features one of my all-time most hated quirks #as well as one of my all-time favorites #manga's quirk is one of the most original and badass things I've ever seen #but oh my god those mushrooms #I'm already cringing just thinking about it #I don't want to have to look at those panels again #sob here's hoping I survive

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fo4companionsreact · 6 years ago

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*pokes* is this blog still active? if so, can i request the companions reacting to sole overworking themselves (not eating, sleeping properly, etc) and finally collapsing from it?

Pffff!! If it’s still active?! OF COURSE IT IS…. irregularly and with great pauses, but it is active :D

Cait - Come to think of it, she did notice Sole barely eating, almost always taking the watch for the night and some serious daily workout. They were out in the sun, making beds for some settlement and Cait was bored out of her mind, bitching about it. Suddenly, their whole body just gave out and Sole fell down like a ragdoll. Cait began cursing under her breath as she picked them up. They were seriously overheating and only now, up close, did the ex-slave noticed the dark circles under their eyes.

With a help of some settler, she carried Sole into one of those newly build shacks, laying them on the bed they’ve finished mere minutes ago. Sole was cooling up slowly, but were near unwakeable, she only managed to give them some water, before they zoomed out again. “Dumbass… That’s what you get for treating yourself like shit,” said Cait under her breath, but stayed with them until they were feeling better.

Codsworth - The mister handy immediatelly set off to find some help, knowing that trying to drag them away from the attacking sunlight would end up with them most likely wounded from his arms. Of course, not even 30 seconds later were there settlers that were saved by Sole themselves few hours prior. Two settlers carried Sole to a shack, while a timid looking woman poured some cool water on their head, waking up fairly dazed Sole.

Codsworth handed them some more water, which Sole drank extremely quickly. As soon as they did, Sole fell asleep on the mattress, the sleeping deficit taking a toll on them, among other things. As soon as the robot was sure they’d be fine, he began making a meal for them when they’d rested enough. It saddened Codsworth, really. They were taking care of everyone, but themselves.

Curie - “Oh, no!” said Curie very quietly, when she caught a glimpse of Sole’s bared torso. Both of them were dreched and found themselves in the process of changing clothes, so they wouldn’t catch a cold. And Curie saw just how malnourished Sole was. Come to think of it, she now noticed how little were they eating. Considering what sort of exercise they do every day, Sole should be eating 4 times more than they do.

Sole made a move to leave the building they were in, as they were already sporting dry clothing, but Curie blocked their path: “What are you doing, Curie?” they said. Sole’s voice was filled with fatigue. Saying nothing, Curie grabbed them by their shoulders and almost drag them to sit in one of the chairs around. After thorough scolding about how they should care better about themselves, Curie proceeded to cook a nutritious meal for them, after which she sent them straight to bed.

Danse - This was not good. At all. Sole was a Brotherhood of Steel soldier, which is a very physically demanding job, yet Sole didn’t get nearly enough rest and food they needed. Danse always knew this and knew that it could destroy them and now he was cursing himself to hell and back, because he let it happen. Sole was unconscious, lying on the hard ground. The paladin let out a sigh as he got out of his power armour and picked them up, laying them down on a nearby bed.

When he chekced that they were safe, he ran off to fetch a doctor. They’re probably just sleeping (god knew they needed it), but better be safe, than sorry. As the doctor looked them up and down, Danse began rummaging through their things, finding them some food and plenty of water, for when they regain their consciousness. He then made a promise to himself; he will now always keep in mind that they care for themselves, since they probably won’t…

Deacon - He’s been through this himself. When something fucks up, one has to deal with it, and Deacon’s always dealt with it by trying to do more work than he could handle while neglecting his basic needs. He had to admit, it wasn’t nice. At all. Of course, the agent immediatelly made sure they were breathing and had a stable heartbeat, before picking them up and putting them on the nearest bed.

He picked an (almost) clean rag and poured some water on it, laying it on their forehead. He was no nurse, or a babysitter, but Sole was his friend and as mentioned above, seeing one of your only, if not the only friend in such a state made him feel sick. He was there when they woke up later, offering them some InstaMash and a Nuka Cola, both of which they gratefully accepted. When they were done eating, Sole let sleep take them once more. They’re gonna stay in this cabin for a while, as it seems.

Dogmeat - The pup saw them falling down, but not getting up, therefore he immediatelly rushed by their side and began licking their face. Sole woke up after a while and Dogmeat almost dragged them into a shadow. THere Sole sat, slumped against the wall, while Dogmeat went off to bark at Trashcan Carla until she came around.

Of course, she was cursing and fussing, but gave Sole something ‘on the house’, a single canteen of purified water and a can of Pork n’ Beans. It wasn’t a lot, but Sole was grateful anyway, being thirsty and starving. They later left to go to bed, while Dogmeat kept them company, dozing off softly over their legs, watching over them.

Hancock - “Oh, shit,” he said, getting Sole’s attention. Now, he looked at them maybe a little more than was necessary, so he was surprised he didn’t notice how… skinnier Sole became. And definetely not in a good way, they looked completely starved out. He definetely shouldn’t be telling anyone how to live, shouldn’t even combine the words ‘healthy’ and ‘lifestyle’, but this wasn’t good. So he told them, as nicely, but firmly as possible.

It took him a while to finally get them to eat and drink something. He even threatened them a bit, saying that he’d be making sure they care for themselves, that he’d be like their own fucking babysitter. After Sole’s been fed and promised him they’d try to live more healthily, he sent them to bed. He might have been a bit of an asshole, too strict on them, but Hancock already saw many of his friends lost. He didn’t want to go through this with Sole.

MacCready - The sniper wasn’t overly picky about his food - after living off mushrooms for 16 years of his life, a well made mole rat steak was a fine dish. On the other hand, he could see why Sole wouldn’t like eating too much, they were certainly used to better food. So it didn’t worry him too much at first. At first. It worried him way more when he saw Sole collapse on the ground, literally starved.

He wasn’t the best cook out there, but when Sole finally woke up and smelled the mirelurk omelettes he made, they almost choked themselves on them. MacCready then proceeded to tell Sole how dumb they were for not eating and drinking enough and what a scare they gave him. Sole felt awful, apologized about a hundred times and promised they would eat more. “I sure hope so,” the sniper said, “neither of us wants me force feeding you now, right?”

Nick Valentine - Being a synth and not having basic needs like sleeping or eating, he noticed how badyl Sole neglected themselves pretty early on. He even told them about it, on several ocassions. Things like ‘This place looks safe. YOu sure you don’t want to catch some Z’s?’ or ‘You know I don’t need to sleep, right? You can sleep while I watch out…’. Now that the synth detective reflected back on it, he should’ve been firmer.

Sole was nervous, literally jumping at shadows. The circles under their eyes were very, very dark and they looked like they would fall asleep right on their feet. That was quite enough for Nick. He grabbed their shoulder, maybe too forcefully, and dragged them towards the ranger cabin. He sat them on the bed, while they argued. “Listen, kid/doll. I know you’re tough. But if you want to keep helping people and find your son, you’ve got to take some time to rest.” Sole agreed in the end and were out by the time their head hit the mattress.

Piper - Sole liked to help people. Everyone knew it, Piper held them in really high regards because of it and they were really making a difference. But after a while, the reporter noticed it was taking a real toll on them. The shack they built was perfect, it was nicely decorated and looked like an amazing place to live in. However, Sole’s muscles were most likely crying out in pain right now. They truly worked from 6 o’clock in the morning until 10 o’clock at night, taking only very small breaks.

She saw it on Sole, the fatigue. Their usual, rather confident strode looked almost zombie-like now and the typical spark they just had was gone. Piper too was tired, she was helping the whole day as well, but Sole was taking it to the extremes. She offered them a massage, which was very awkward, but it seemed to relieve some stress from Sole’s muscles, all the while Piper asked them not to overwork themselves like this again.

Preston - The minuteman had no idea how Sole managed to do everything they do. One moment they’re killing hostiles, the other they’re trying to find their lost son and then they’re doing some manual work at the settlements. He always worked with them, but it felt as if Sole worked as two people at once. It dind’t occur to Preston at first that they could put themselves into danger, overworking like this.

So when Sole fell down on the ardent ground, drenched with sweat and burning up, Preston cursed at himself and began fussing over his general. He carried them to the most cool part of the settlement, brought a doctor, bought plenty of water, food and meds just to know they’d be alright. When Sole finally came to, he apologized a hundred times and promised that he would never let them overstrain themselves this much.

Strong - The super mutant knew human doesn’t eat humans, but it seemed to him that they weren’t even eating human food. He could understand, human food was disgusting, but when humans, or super mutants don’t eat, they’re not good fighters. He, of course, told Sole this. They promised that they’ll try to eat more and since that moemnt, Strong always reminded them when he thought they should do so.

X6-88 - It was his job to make sure they survive, so the courser was a bit annoyed, for they were making it harder for him. Without enough rest and food, Sole is sure to become an easy target and X6 wouldn’t fail the Father and the Institute by allowing this. He tried being nice, at first, ‘You should eat something, sir/ma’am’ and ‘You should get some rest, sir/ma’am’ was however answered with something like ‘Hmm’ and ‘later’.

X6 wasn’t exactly thrilled at how he ended up dealing with the situation, but it worked. He lcoked Sole in their own bedroom in Sanctuary with several Institute food packs and purified water and until they had a meal and a long sleep, X6 wouldn’t budge and let them out. It worked at the end and Sole began to actually treat themselves better, so it’s for the better, X6 thought.

Sorry for any typos xD

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thechronicliar · 6 years ago

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Here are my Sterek stories that I wanted to write, but as I said a little while ago, I just won’t be. Basically under the cut is a detailed outline or description of what the story would have been like and if anyone wants to take it, go right ahead. But if you wanna know more, you can always send me an ask or something of the like. I’ll post the two chapter story outlines/what I have written later. This is just a few shorts that I had planned to finish, but obviously didn’t.

Stories include Derek deciding that he should just have a pack of dogs instead of trying to deal with a bunch of hormonal teenagers, Stiles getting cursed where his imagination changes the world around him to some degree, and more.

1. Marking Your Territory, or what I like to call “I licked it so it is mine” mentality.

Personally, I just thought it would be funny for Stiles to try to put claim on Derek and in the most stupid way possible.

Some of what I had written:

Researching about werewolves was easy. Figuring out what information was actually useful and not used for some half-baked fanfiction was a whole other matter. In fact, Stiles was almost certain that this current piece of information was completely and utterly horse shit, but that didn’t stop him from scurrying down the halls to where he knew Derek was with Erica, Boyd, Isaac, and some other werewolf that came here seeking something. Honestly, Stiles wasn’t listening to what the woman was talking about. He was too busy staring at how close she was standing to Derek and how interested Derek was in what she was talking about. There was no hint of his trademark, patent pending, “Grr” face.

By the time Stiles came to his senses to try and listen, Derek was already suggesting to take her back to his place with his pack to listen to help her out. He couldn’t even get to voice his disapproval before Scott was dragging him back to his jeep. It didn’t take longer than the second for Scott to step out of the jeep before Stiles was speeding his way back to Derek’s with possibly the most idiotic idea to come to his mind yet, and he went looking for a corpse. He couldn’t even remember where he got that tidbit of information anyways, he just knows that it sounds like a great idea. A perfect ideal. A horrible idea, was Stiles’ slowly panicking thoughts as he stood outside the closed off living room, loft, studio thing that Derek liked to ‘entertain’ guests (which currently and finally had a TV and wifi thanks to yours truly and Derek’s money). This was a horrible idea and he couldn’t back out now. There was no way they hadn’t heard him pull up and he wasn’t exactly quiet on his way up here.

He pulled open the door and glanced over the room. The six of them, now including Peter, stood in the middle of the room, not even sitting on the perfectly good couches that he forced Derek to buy. All of them had turned toward him questioningly, but surprisingly silent. Taking in a deep breath, Stiles locked his eyes on Derek and straightened. He could do this. He is a Stilinski. The pep talk wasn’t much, but it was enough to make him march up to Derek without breaking eye contact.

“Stiles?”

Stiles almost hesitated as Derek’s obvious confusion, but his determination kept him moving until he was toe to toe with the Alpha. Reaching up, he grasped the man’s too beautiful face and pulled him down, which was surprising all on its own that Derek would even let Stiles man handle him like this, but he didn’t have time to think about. He opened his mouth and ran his tongue up the length of Derek’s face.

And that’s about how much I got through. Basically ending with Stiles going “That’s all I wanted to say.” Not even explaining himself as he runs off after embarrassing the fuck out of himself and Derek. A pleased and flustered Derek following after him, cause seriously, I bet Derek would like it if someone liked him that much to make a fool out of themselves by doing something so stupid.

2. A Flirtation Disaster

This was going to be a short story where Scott got bit by someone else cause Derek and his sis didn’t come back while he was in high school. And now that Scott has a pack in Hale’s old home, they have come back to see what it happening. Stiles unknowingly flirts with Derek, makes an ass of himself, then goes to the meeting a little disappointed than shocked and soon to be panicking at seeing Derek there with is Alpha sis. Derek milks it.

I didn’t get much on this one.

“Did you have to kill someone to look as good as you do?”

The man in question paused with the brim of his drink just brushing parted lips. Hazel eyes narrowed as he lowered his drink. “Excuse me?”

Stiles, taking the obvious invitation to sit down, took the seat across from a literal being of sexual appeal. He tried to elude all the confidence he held within himself while he started to sweat under the unwavering glare. And when the confidence expectantly ran out soon after he sat down, he picked at the fraying on his sleeve, his eyes darting around the coffee shop. “Cause you look like the type of guy that would murder someone, not that you have killed someone. Or that you’d tell me if you did. Did you? Don’t answer that. I really don’t want to know. I want to live with the illusion that you are naturally that good looking without some catch.” And through all his quick rambling, the man across from him stared in awe as the glare vanished off his face. Stiles would have preferred the glare to this. The man looked moments away from asking if Stiles was dropped on his head when he was a kid. Time to try and salvage this.

“Do you happen to date guys that accuse you of murder??” Smooth.

Then add more horrible flirting and Derek worrying about his safety and maybe at the end, some vague flirting before an alarm goes on his phone stating he has to leave. Stiles is disappointed cause this could have gone a lot better and even if it was looking up, he failed to get the number of the godlike man. He’s then late for the meeting. And Derek decides to tease him throughout it, making subtle hints and jests at Stiles’ poor flirting techniques.

3. An Imagination is a Dangerous Thing

So, during one of the scooby gang’s little adventure, a trickster spirit decides to hit Stiles with a nice surprise. The spell or curse or blessing, however you wanna look at it, makes it where whatever Stiles is thinking about, happens. The more strong his emotional connection with the thought, the more likely it will happen. But it is limited. It’s not gonna bring his mom back or make the impossible possible.

It was fall break and Stiles was spending it chasing a trickster through the forest, in the middle of the night, on only three hours of sleep, and he was pretty sure he was lost. “GUYS!” Seriously? He understood getting lost in the moment, but did it have to be every single time? The pack had a tendency to leave him behind or in Derek’s words ‘not notice when Stiles runs off for whatever reason’. Which this all usually lead with him ending up getting hurt right about now.

Couldn’t decide if Derek was going to get hit by the spell first or the trickster just took a fancy to Stiles. TBH, I was leaning toward the latter. But after the spell is cast, everyone was worried about their human and brings him to get checked on by the pack’s vet, finding out what the spell was and how long it was to last.

Stiles inwardly panicking, cause his thoughts have been lacking in purity and have selected target. That paired with his inability to control said thoughts lead to funny and awkward situations with Derek.

Those not being limited to: Derek trying to leave and Stiles thinking he should stay, so the spell pulls Derek right back into the room, parking him into the seat. Stiles thinking that it would be nice to be carried by Derek. Stiles lying away at night and thinking of Derek, who crawls through his window, panting and pissed.

“Would you stop!”

“I can’t help it. My mind says no, but my body says yes.”

“Isn’t it your mind that we should be having a problem with?”

“…Yes, but that’s not the point I’m trying to make. This thing is hard to control.”

I’d also like to mention that Stiles has told no one of his crush on Derek and for the most part, no one knew or even suspected except Erica. So he would desperately try to play off his thoughts for being innocent. Like “We’re not done talking about this.” “I’m tired, I didn’t wanna walk.” All until he gets so tired of trying to fight it and just tells Derek. The others, probably catch on after the 5th incident of Stiles subconsciously calling out to Derek or at least getting him to take off his shirt. Derek may suspect or is completely clueless until Stiles says something, which would be funny. Derek just taking Stiles at his word all those times, a little upset that Stiles lied.

4. New Pack

This is basically where Derek gets a new pack of sorts and his little group of teens aren’t particularly happy about that. Derek gets a job as a dog walker and decides to hang with the dogs instead of dealing his pack and Scott’s pack. This disregards a lot of…well, nearly everything past season one, with the exception of gaining Erica, Boyd, Isaac, and Jackson as pack members. His uncle is still dead, but there is no asshole grandpa trying to kill everyone like his homicidal daughter.

First it is Derek’s pack that are taking the brunt of having to share Derek’s attention and slowly, so does Scott’s group, cause they too relied on Derek a lot and now that he doesn’t always have time to jump at whatever they need him for, they get a little sour about it too. Ha, just the thought of Scott or Stiles telling Derek that he needs to quit his job and has no real reason beyond that he feels neglected, but there is no way in fuck that he’s gonna say that, so instead insults Derek about his lack of being a good Alpha to his group. Yeah, that’ll show him.

Anyways, had a little written for it:

Honestly, they were taking the ‘kicked puppy’ look to a whole new level. It almost beat Scott’s puppy look, something Stiles thought impossible. All four of Derek’s betas stared sourly off in the distance, not even looking up as Stiles and Scott joined their table. Not even sparing a glance when Alison or Lydia joined the cafeteria table soon after. Jackson even pointedly ignored Lydia when she called his name, her glare had no effect on him. The silence was deafening.

“You guys look like someone ran over your puppy,” Stiles finally comment, mouth full of food. The mood of the four darkened considerably. “Seriously, what happened?”

The four shifted in their seats, avoiding anything that could be construed as eye contact.

“Is everything alright?” Scott asked, joining the one-man conversation. His perfected worried look was enough to make the group tense. “Was it Derek? Did he-”

Apparently, Scott was really good at hitting the problem on the head when Jackson abruptly shot up and stalked out of the cafeteria. The people parted like the red sea at his obvious anger. Shockingly, the three shot a not so subtle glare at Scott before Isaac ran off after Jackson. Have they really become that close after a few weeks? Was being able to silently communicate a werewolf gift? Was it like a smell? Teen spirit?

Wait. Derek. Of course, they’ll have to learn when the man barely says much. He really shouldn’t be that surprised. Over the past few months of the werewolf quartet learning their new selves and bonding, they must have made their own kind of language for ridiculously good looking people. He looked over at Lydia, hoping that she’d have a clue to their bad mood, but she looked confused as he did even though she joined the back soon after bringing Peter back.

“Ahhh,” Stiles educated started.

Erica glared at him sharply, a glare to actually rival Derek’s. “Shut up, Stilinski.” And then she too stood up and left the cafeteria.

The remaining group turned their attention to the remaining pack member and Boyd stared back unmoved. Stiles doubted they’d get anything from him. They’d have more luck calling up Derek. Scott started to speak up and only got through a syllable before Boyd too stood and left the area.

Stiles looked at who remained and dignifyingly aske:d “What the fuck just happened?”

Another possible way it would go:

Honestly, they were taking the ‘kicked puppy’ look too a whole other level. Stiles looked at the three betas from across the cafeteria and sighed as he took his tray their way. They barely acknowledged him when he sat down. “What’s with you guys?’

Boyd pointedly looked away.

Erica gritted her teeth and Stiles swore he heard something clawing under the table.

But Isaac was the worst. He had his head resting on the table with his arms barricading him. Wide blue eyes stared at Stiles sadly for a moment before Isaac turned his head away.

“Okay?” Stiles dragged out. “You guys look like someone killed your pup-”

“He left us,” Erica cut in.

“Who did what now?”

Wouldn’t mind combining the two, but certainly not my problem now.

Then Scott says a few things, thinking it was Derek that did something to piss them off, cause of his low opinion of Derek. Though he’s not totally wrong. The pack had left the table because they didn’t wanna hear Scott talking trash. Kind of wanted to add Scott saying something with Boyd and Erica still there and Erica biting his head off. Which I think would have worked better.

They go find Derek to get answers and finds him with dogs. Scott jealous. He wants a dog pack. The dogs love Derek too and don’t really care much for Scott, which makes the poor boy pout, but they do warm up to him after a bit, like Derek. They learn about Derek’s job and still don’t understand the pack’s anger. So they track down the others to see the huddled in Derek’s home. When they open the door, they all perk up with hope, only to look more sour than before that it isn’t Derek.

They learn that the pack is upset about Derek’s new job and how he hasn’t been around really. Or too tired to deal with them and rather be with those mutts. Erica’s words.

Derek is avoiding them in a way. He knows that his wolf lead him to each of his betas, but at times, he couldn’t stand them and it was hard to teach them something he’s known from birth, pack. And he sees his new jobs as an escape and well, instead of facing his problems, he’d rather be face deep in a dogs belly.

Stiles watching Derek lovingly take care of the dogs. “I never thought I’d say this, but I want to be petted.” And Scott looking at him horrified and somewhat disgusted.

It all becomes a heart warming tale when they finally learn that sometimes you actually have to say your words instead of expecting people to know exactly how you’re feeling. Not much of a Sterek story, but certainly has it’s moments. Stiles being the one that confronts Derek about how this is affecting his pack and how he actually has to be the Alpha and face them before they get permanent puppy faces. “Your pack won’t look intimidating if they all look like they would cry if you pet them.”

#Sterek #Teen Wolf #stiles stilinski #derek hale #my shit #Free to use

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shotgunbattleax · 7 years ago

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Hey y’all. So I don’t talk a lot about my family and I’d like to start this by saying, not so much to protect them or myself but for the sake of clarity and transparency: I still have a very good relationship with my family and everything I am about to say, whether this is a good or bad thing for you, should be taken with that in context.

My father was a green beret. Which I know is an absolute bonkers, uncle works at Nintendo sort of thing to say, especially with stuff having to do with propaganda-y conflict build up sort of talk like this whole IRA/ Russian Troll program thing. But hey, some of the folks that work at Nintendo have to be uncles to kids, right? So yes, my dad was in the Special Forces. Specfically, he was in during Vietnam.

The green berets have a lot of jobs but one of the big things to keep in mind when talking about them is their own motto. It’s “Liberate the Oppressed”. Green berets differ a bit with a lot of special operations and commando style outfits around the world because one of the things that have always made them stand out (and make them a little messy and some would say even substandard in some of their mission designations) is the breadth of their specialization. One of the ways this has made them standout, however, is in one of their missions: raising opposition behind enemy lines.

My dad was a medic, and one of the main things he did was train medics for montagnard groups that defended their own villages. The montagnards, who’d been neglected by the french government, then the rising communist government, formed a very strong working bond with soldiers like my dad, and in return the states were able to project a lot of force with a few soldiers, the green beret groups basically raising their own battalions among an ethnic group actively persecuted by the seated government that was fighting for their lives. If this sounds familiar... good.

On the other side of things, my mother is a Congolese woman, specifically from Kindu, on the eastern border of the DRC. My knowledge of the country mostly comes from my mother’s stories, my uncle’s tutelage (he taught at University of Maryland and went to Cornell! He also remembers and sort of begrudges Lumumba for the behaviors that spelled the end of his amazing and ambitious role as our first democratically elected leader.), and my own research. One of the more interesting patterns I’d started to notice is if you dig deep enough, there’s a lot of stuff about the Chinese/Congolese relationship. Usually it’s told as a comparison to the American approach, specifically the CIA’s attempts to assassinate Lumumba (you know, if you read original print runs of Congo, Mon Pays, the introduction is written by... Kasavubu I think? Anyway he describes having to assuage Patrice Lumumba from his delusions that the Belgians were trying to kill him... lol). By comparison, the Chinese are shown to be sort of allies, friends, extending trade and goodwill, obviously with their own global intentions but kindly. What isn’t often mentioned is that during the rule of Mobutu, the Chinese deliberately armed ethnic minorites that were actively oppressed by Mobutu, who was as most people know, one of history’s monsters. What isn’t as mentioned is that they almost instantly stopped and sent envoys as soon as Mobutu stopped that business of recognizing Taiwan as a country. Even as they sent envoys, they flooded congo’s markets with cheap mass produced products and foodstuffs that tanked our agricultural and industrial markets, plucking feathers until we couldn’t fly or keep ourselves warm, metaphorically.

This is a bit long winded. I guess I wanted to sort of illustrate where I’m coming from when I say I’m pretty disappointed in my mutuals who are taking the whole IRA/ Russian spy thing as a joke, who don’t see what the danger of it is. I’m not talking about people using this as a talking point for how people who own platforms pick and choose which issues they want to stand against (tumblr and its robust population of nazis, fascists, european neo traditionalists that stay on the site even as they shut down the ‘russian troll’ accounts), but the ones who are trying to say ‘well what was the problem? they were giving legitimate information! they made good points!’

No shit! Of course they did! Propaganda works on decontextualizing intents! The information they shared and the points they put forward weren’t meant to educate, they were meant to cater! To you! To us! They were courting favor of discontent minorities and it worked, to a certain extent! This shouldn’t be something to shrug off, this should be a grim reminder. When our own efforts in fights against injustice, against the authoritarian bent of our own government line up with imperialist goals of other nations (and please, please never forget that an organization funded by the Russian state is specifically imperialist), they will use that to their advantage. Not just by the obvious and blunt forms of propaganda, misinformation and incitement, but in the form of soft power, of maintaining an image that pits them as fighters against the evil of our country. They will decontextualize their own goals, they will embed themselves comfortably into the day to day of our own efforts. Please! Don’t let that happen! Don’t be stupid! Don’t take the reblogging of good information, stripped of origin and peddled to folks as a non threatening mask of a wing of a government specifically aiming towards infiltration at face value! I ask you this as someone who has so few reasons to trust most people who consider themselves allies in my own fights. You do nothing to engender a trust at all in you! This isn’t a shout out to everyone either, I don’t know you. This is to people who actually read my blog, to mutuals who are interested in my voice or believe they are part of the same struggles as I am.

Be smart. Please.

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d0gdaze · 7 years ago

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Also on AO3

Chapters: 1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5 . 6 . 7 . 8 . 9 .(ongoing)

Reddie / Stenbrough

Word Count: 2801

Summary: Eddie Kaspbrak is set up on a date with a friend of a friend, and this Tozier guy is a hot mess. || Stan has feelings. Bill is confused. Long and angsty and may or may not contain a roadtrip. AU - no IT. Characters are 17/18. Set in early nineties. More film based but contains elements from the miniseries and the book.

-Chapter 8-

A week passed, and none of them had heard from Eddie or Richie.

“He's dead isn't he? Richie fucking killed him. He's out there, lying in a ditch somewhere, with fucking maggots eating his eyeballs.”

They were all out at the Barrens, finally getting some fresh air after days of not leaving their houses, not wanting to risk a missed phone call.

They were all worried, of course, but Stan seemed to be the one most willing to show it. He had been pacing back and forth basically since they arrived, shaking hands held behind his back.

“Does no one else care? Eddie's been murdered! And we just let him go like a bunch of sociopaths!”

“Shut it Stan, he's not dead.” Beverly was standing by the water's edge, attempting to skip rocks but failing. Bill was sitting beside her, watching Stan out of the corner of his eye but making sure not to make eye contact. They hadn't actually spoken to each other since the day after Betty Ripsom's party, not that anyone in the group had noticed. “We've known Richie for years, remember? He's our friend, he wouldn't murder Eddie.”

“I dunno, didn't he move away for like ten years? That's a long time, he could have become a murderer.” Ben said, pulling up blades of grass and flicking them at Mike. Bev glared at him.

“Oh my god. He's right. Richie planned this. He only came back because he was looking for someone to murder, and we just handed him a victim. Fucking hell, guys what do we do?”

“Stan, jesus christ,” Bev walked over to him and grabbed his shoulders so he stopped pacing, “Eddie's fine.”

“How would you know?” Stan was almost panicked to the point of crying. His eyes were wild and his hair was dishevelled from running his hands through it too much. He looked like he hadn't slept all week (and maybe he hadn't, he sure had plenty of things going through his mind that would keep him awake).

To be completely honest, Beverly didn't know. Not hearing from them had her immensely worried, and in the back of her mind she couldn't help but think the worst, that maybe they were dead or hurt or they had broken down in the middle of nowhere, miles away from any help. But she kept her composure. It wouldn't do any good if they were all freaking out over this, so she forced herself to be the voice of reason. And she truly did trust Richie, he had been her closest friend all those years ago.

“Look, this is Trashmouth Tozier we're talking about, remember? He's not going to hurt Eddie, unless you can die by annoyance, god forbid.” Stan smiled for a second at that, but only for a second. She reached up to put her hand on his cheek. “He's okay, Stan. I promise you.”

Stan leant into her touch, putting his own hand on top of hers, feeling significantly calmer than before. She grinned at him and went back to sit next to Bill.

They all stayed out for the majority of the day, and as always they stayed relatively grouped together, at least making sure they were within eyesight of each other. But Beverly and Bill had seemed oddly removed from the others, always sitting a bit away from them, just far enough that they could talk between themselves without anyone hearing.

Stan tried not to make it obvious that he noticed, but he wasn't particularly good at subtlety, and Mike confronted him after catching his staring for the umpteenth time.

“Dude, what's up with you? You're so out of it today.”

He was sitting cross-legged with his elbows resting on his knees and one hand holding his head up, frowning as he watched Bill and Bev having a conversation that he couldn't hear on the other side of the stream. “What?” he turned his head towards Mike, Ben lying down next to him with his head in his lap. “Nothing. I'm fine. I'm not staring.”

“Really? Because I'm pretty sure you haven't listened to a thing we've been saying for the last twenty minutes,” Ben sounded more worried than annoyed (but he still sounded a little annoyed), “and you're either staring at those two or there's a very interesting bird over there that we can't see.”

“Sure I have, you're talking about, uh, that History thing. In the library. The book with the history in it. And like I said, I'm not staring at anything.”

“We were actually talking about the new Star Trek episode, but nice try.”

“Oh, well I haven't watched it yet.”

Stan started fidgeting with a loose string on his jeans. Ben and Mike looked at each other, then back at him.

“Seriously, what's wrong?”

“Nothings wrong! Maybe I'm just, I don't know, a bit worked up about Eddie, but I'm fine!” Stan laughed nervously, eyes darting between them. Ben sat up so he was properly facing him.

“Stan, you now you can tell us anything, right?”

Stan threw his head back in an exaggerated groan.

“For the last time, there's nothing to say! Nothing is wrong! I feel great, actually, never been better.” He put on a fake smile that made him look more sick than anything else. “So we're dropping this, okay? What were you talking about before? Star Wars? Let's keep talking about that.”

“Star Trek, Stan.”

“Whatever.”

“Okay, well, we were talking about how in the new episode there was this...”

Stan sat, watching Mike's mouth move, but not hearing any of the words he was saying. His impulse control quickly ran out, and he glanced at Bill and Beverly again. They were sitting with their knees touching. Bev was smiling and giggling at Bill as he talked, fluttering her eyelashes at him. Stan scowled in disgust. “And then Riker was like- are you fucking serious Stanley?!”

Stan snapped back to him, startled. “What? I didn't do anything!”

“You can't pay attention for three goddamn seconds, dude! You're obviously hiding something.”

“I told you a million times, nothing is-”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Bill lean forward to move a hair out of Bev's face. As his hand lingered over her cheek, Stan felt like he might faint.

“You know what, I'm actually feeling kind of sick.” He held his hand to his stomach and scrunched up his face in a poor acting attempt. “I'm gonna go home. I shouldn't have come out today, anyways. Might have missed a call from Eddie.”

He marched past them to where they had left their bikes and picked up his own, flipping up the kickstand with his foot.

“Stan, you leaving already?” Beverly called out as he stormed past them, but he either didn't hear or he ignored her.

When he reached the road he got on his bike and pedalled as hard as he could, angry tears stinging his eyes.

“H-he's probably just s-still upset over e-Eds.” Bill said as she watched him ride away.

“Maybe you should go check on him later, make sure he's doing okay?”

Bill's breath hitched in his throat.

“I'm sh-sh-sure he'll be fine.”

Bev frowned at him.

“Bill, he's your best friend.”

“W-well, he's one of my b-best friends. You're a-all my best friends.”

Bev hit his shoulder playfully. “Oh come on, we all know you like Stan the most,” one corner of her mouth tilted up, confused by his sudden defensiveness, “it's okay to play favourites, no one's gonna get butt-hurt over it.”

Bill's face turned a hot shade of pink.

“I-I-I d-don't play f-favourites. I d-don't like him a-an-anymore than I l-like – fuck – I d-don't – I don't h-h-h-ha-hav- sh-sh-shh-shit!” He buried his face in his hands. “C-can we s-stop talking about s-s-Stan for f-fuck's sake.”

He felt Bev put a hand on his shoulder, rubbing her thumb in circles just above his shoulder blade.

“Did something happen? Between you two?”

“N-no. Yes. I-I don't w-want to talk ab-abuh-about it.”

She wanted to ask another question, but the wavering in his voice made her stay quiet. Eventually he lifted his head, red imprints left behind where his hands had been.

“All okay?” she asked. Bill nodded.

“H-hey, I'm supposed t-to be babys-sitting Georgie tonight, c-can you come over?”

He usually asks Stan, she thought. “Yeah, I should be good to go.”

“Cool,” he flashed her a grin and looked over at Ben and Mike, who were now back to bombarding each other with ripped up plants. Ben copped a fistful of dirt in the eye and fell backwards, groaning in pain but still laughing.

An hour after sundown, Beverly arrived at Bill's house, and didn't bother to knock before entering. They all knew they didn't really have to knock unless someone's parents were home.

She walked into the living room to find Georgie beating Bill at a game of Battleship. “What's the score, boys?” she teased, sitting down on the couch besides Georgie, the coffee table in front of them and Bill sitting on the floor.

“I've won twice already!”

“It's b-because he's ch-cheating,” Bill laughed.

“Aw, come on Bill, don't be a sore loser,” she put an arm around Georgie and pulled him into a side-hug, “this kid's just naturally gifted, right George?”

Georgie giggled and nodded proudly. Bill stuck his tongue out at them.

“Is Stan coming?” Georgie asked, looking back towards the front door.

Bev shot a questioning glance at Bill. He swallowed hard.

“H-h-he was b-busy,” he lied.

Georgie pouted, and then went back to studying the board game, tapping his chin as if in deep thought.

“B4?”

“Seriously!? How did you sink me again!?” Bill threw his hands up in defeat. “Alright, you win, let's do something different.”

“Like what?”

Bill looked around the room, searching for inspiration, but nothing caught his attention.

“We could just put on a movie?” Georgie slumped his shoulders at the suggestion. Beverly interrupted before he could complain about how boring that would be.

“I have an idea.”

Soon they were up and gathering every sheet and pillow they could find and piling it all in the middle of the living room. Bill had moved the coffee table off to the side, and grabbed the chairs from the dining room to hold the sheets up like a tent, while Georgie and Beverly were laying pillows out over the floor and creating a nook for them to sit in.

They adjusted and moved things around for a while, following Georgie's instruction on what needed to go where, and when they got his absolute approval they all crawled inside. Georgie sat in between the two of them, admiring the cave they had constructed, and begged Bill to tell a story.

And he did. It was a story about a band of great heroes, who fought against an evil monster. He put on voices and acted out gestures, and when he got stumped Georgie would tell him what happens next, and he would build on from there. He barely stuttered the whole way through. He never said it, but in Georgie's mind, he saw the characters as Bill and his friends.

Beverly listened, Georgie leaning up against her, feeling nothing but love in her heart as the words poured from his mouth. She had never heard him like this, so sure of himself, not tripping over his tongue or becoming breathless when the sentences wouldn't come. She was awestruck, his voice wrapping itself around her and spreading warmth throughout her body.

By the time the tale had ended, Georgie had lost out his battle against sleep, so Bill carried him upstairs to his room. He had always been smaller than most other kids his age, much shorter than Bill had been at twelve, but as he laid there, curled up on his side under the navy blue duvet, he looked younger than ever. Bill was transported momentarily back in time, when they had been blissfully unaware of the rest of the world, their biggest problems back then would seem like nothing now.

“They're real cute when they're asleep, huh?”

Beverly walked up behind him and put her chin on his shoulder. He let out a soft laugh under his breath.

“It's t-too bad he'll w-wake up.”

She slapped him playfully on the shoulder and leant down to kiss Georgie on the forehead.

Downstairs, Bill made a move to disassemble their construction, but Beverly stopped him.

“Oh come on, we spent like an hour on this thing. May as well keep it up until morning.”

So they crawled back inside and sat in silence for a while, leaning up against each other. Bev though Bill seemed somewhat distracted, like his mind was far off somewhere else.

“What are you thinking about?” she whispered.

“Nothing important.”

“Is it about Stan?”

No response.

“Bill I'm worrie-”

She was cut off by Bill's lips against hers, his face too close to look like anything more than a blur. She could feel a chill running down her spine, suddenly so much more aware of how quiet the room was, able to make out her heart pulsing in her ear. But before she could comprehend what was happening, it was over, and Bill was staring at her, searching for some sort of reaction. But she didn't really give one, just stared back, mouth slightly parted, no movement bar her chest slowly rising and falling.

And then he did it again, more intently this time. She tried to kiss back but couldn't seem to figure out how to, every time she would try something it just felt awkward. His lips were cold and weirdly dry, and there was something about they way he was doing it that made it feel too forced, like he didn't really want to but he was doing it anyway.

Beverly had kissed people before, she kissed her friends all the time, but nothing further than a quick peck. And there had of course been junior prom with Brad Haynes, where he had kissed her after driving her home, and it had been wet and sloppy and she shoved him away after a few seconds, patted him on the shoulder and never spoke to him again.

This was different. This was Bill, and he didn't seem to know what he was doing.

She wasn't sure if she really liked him like that. Sure, she had thought about it, and there were times when he was giving a long-winded speech or poking his tongue out in concentration as he sketched, where she had found herself thinking about what this moment would be like. But then again, she had also thought that about Ben. And Mike. And even Richie, that one time back when they were kids, but that dream was crushed forever when she saw him drop his sandwich into the dirt and then pick it up and continue to eat it. She had mulled over the idea of what it would be like to kiss all of them. But it was never any serious thought, and in reality, she would have never initiated anything. They were her friends, and she would have been content with that for the rest of her life.

He kept on, though, even as she didn't kiss him back, awkwardly placing and replacing his hands places, unable to make a decision, face, waist, shoulder, waist, face, shoulder, knee, waist, to the point where she had to grab his shoulders and push him away.

“S-s-sorry, did you n-not w-want t-”

“No, it's okay,” she tried to think of something to say that wouldn't offend, “I just- Bill, I don't know if I-”

“Y-you d-don't like m-me.” He looked taken aback. Surely that had been flirting earlier at the Barrens. Surely she had liked me. I was sure of it.

“Bill, come on, I-”

“I-I th-thought, w-w-with a-a-all of th-the-”

I need this to work out, Bev.

“You're my best friend, and I-”

I can't do this.

“-I just don't want to ruin that, if-”

Straight boys don't-

“-if I lost you I would never forgive myself-”

Straight boys-

“-and I don't know what to do, Bill.”

Straight-

He was staring right through her at this point, the words she was saying muffled and unorganised in his head, overpowered by his own thoughts.

“I have to go Bill, I'm sorry.”

And suddenly she wasn't in front of him anymore, though he couldn't recall actually seeing her get up or leave. He felt drunk, like the world was moving a million miles an hour beneath him, but he was frozen in place.

He couldn't bring himself to walk up the stairs to his own bed.

That night he couldn't stop thinking about Stan.

Straight boys don't.

Obviously not.

#writing #reddie #stenbrough #reddie fanfic #reddie fanfiction #stenbrough fanfic #stenbrough fanfiction

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anniehowsback · 7 years ago

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13X02: the good, the bad, and the bucklemming

I don’t have particularly strong feelings about a certain writing duo, so when one of their episodes rolls up I just strap on for the ride, keeping in mind what their strengths and weaknesses generally are.

I’d say this episode was a mix of both. I enjoyed it well enough, and I’m looking forward to see where the story is going to go, but let’s be honest: this was just setting the pieces on the board, exposition, and opening up the storyline without bringing it forward yet. This is exactly their forte, so kudos for assigning it to them.

((as an aside, I imagine the Writing Room with whatever current Showrunner pointing to a whiteboard saying they need to establish six key points before they hit the next episode or the season arc is fucked, and everybody just turns to look at Eugenie and Brad and they just say ‘on it’ and ‘but we’re re-inventing the lore to fit them in’ and the Showrunner just sighs and says ‘do what you gotta do, but get it done’))

Good

I enjoyed Alex Calvert’s performance in this one more that the first episode. I found it more nuanced, though I suspect the first suffered from wanting us to believe Jack was evil at the beginning (There was no grey area. He just made evil expressions, so of course you have to think he’s straight up evil; kinda killed the suspense for me). His expression when he recalls Lucifer talking to him in the womb, and then later at the skip with Sam, was very well done.

I like that Asmodeus is an antebellum slave-owner type. A white supremacist is exactly the kind of villain we need now. And I think the actor really pulls off the total-white look, which not everyone can *cough*Jared*cough*.

I’m also betting that “the utter pain and humiliation forged a bond between us” and the fact that the first thing he tried to do with Jack was free his pet project the Shadeem, of whom even Lucifer is scared “as well he should”, means that, despite his party-line, Asmodeus has no interest in serving Lucifer, he totally wants some payback.

Sam is getting to be more and more awesome, which I approve of greatly. He saves Dean (again! yay), he bonds with Jack... looking forward to his arc this season. I love that his faith in Jack is in part driven by his belief in Kelly’s and Cas’ judgement call, and that he’s essentially honoring their death by continuing their work.

Donatello’s always fun, though the material they gave him was pretty mediocre.

Dean... If we printed and bound the amounts of times we’ve said Jensen deserves an emmy, we’d get something the size of the encylopedia britannica. Basically all of his close-ups this episode are great little stories in themselves.

Hallucinating sheep ----> Song of Solomon (LOL). Where -off the top of my head- the beloved’s hair is like a flock of sheep descending mount Arat in the golden sunset, or something like that. Unsubtle as a brick, but most people will have hardly noticed anyway.

The Black Spur Bar, where Dean sits alone looking at his phone (doing what?? texting Jody??? They must have called her to pull the APB on Jack the moment they hit the road. There’s no one else to call... perhaps he was looking at a certain instagram album he made a couple of summers ago?) with a glass sitting next to him and a beer opposite him. A drink he polishes off before leaving, but also before getting wasted, or hooking up with yet another blonde watress ready with a sympathetic ear. And by doing so he thwarts Asmodeus’ deceit.

Jack doesn’t like conflict, magically disappears to escape it, just like crazy!Cas did. This time it’s Sam who goes to find him, and he handles it much better than Dean did. Progress!

Jack using his power reflexivly because “it hurts!” Called it.

Nice Bunker shots.

Interested in seeing where AU!Michael goes from here.

Bad

I usually have too much respect for the profession to say this, but the directing had some straight up mistakes in there.

Two shots of Asmodeus raking his fingers down his scars? You have to pick one, that’s not the kind of thing that you can repeat, especially not in the same fricking scene. Come on!

Mary takes only two (2) steps back from Michael and Lucifer fighting. Yeah, sure. I mean, I guess you want to keep her in shot, but really? Really??

Speaking of Mary, she could totally take RandomHunterDude, even if she’s unarmed and he’s got a machinegun. You could have her bracing herself to deliver a kick in the nuts from the ground just as Lucifer kills him, and you still get him rescuing her, but without her looking like an incompetent fighter, which she is not.

The angels posturing like gunslingers at high noon. No, just... no.

The Bucklemming

“No females since the wars” I’m sorry, what. W H A T. That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Unless they adress demons/angels specifically possessing all the women, everywhere (doubtful), how is it even possible that ALL WOMEN have been eliminated in this universe? The only possible solution is that this particular RandomHunterDude is so repulsive to women that they’ve been giving him a wide berth since the apocalypse. Yeah, let’s go with that. (Or it’s a meta point. But even then it’s still stupid).

“Nature vs Nurture debate!” “He’s a Nephilim, the son of Lucifer” “Nephilim become more powerful than the angel who sired them, which is Lucifer, who is an archangel” “Mould him!” “Amara sucked my soul out so I have trouble with moral conundrums” “This is hitting rock bottom” “Kids are always seeking their father’s approval” etc... oh, Eugenie and Brad, what would you do if suddently you couldn’t have your characters just speak their themes and motivations as plainly as possible *shakes head fondly*

“You can’t possibly know what I want”. A lot of people read this as the beginning of a cringe-worthy redemption arc for Lucifer. It’s possible. I’m of the opinion that he shouldn’t be redeemed, but I’m also not convinced that he is getting redeemed. See, we need our John mirror this season (we need several, truth be told), someone who embodies all the negative aspects of John’s parenting: the neglect, the projecting expectations, the rejecting his sons’ free choices, the burdening with unreasonable responsibilities... making Lucifer this kind of parent would be easy. But then there wouldn’t be any reason for Jack to want to follow him, and no story to tell. You need to put enough ‘good’ in him that when he’s reunited with Jack he’ll actually seem like a viable choice.

Verdict:

This Fuckhands McMike storyline is A W E S O M E and I can’t wait to see how it progresses.

Next Episode:

I hope you’re all ready to watch Missouri die, because trust me she is not getting out of it alive. It’s Patience’s origin story, which means that Parental Figure bites the dust.

#spn 13x02 #supernatural 13x02 #meta

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keyofjetwolf · 7 years ago

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Jet Wolf Summarizes Act 27

The manga and I kind of hate each other. This is unfortunate, but still, I’m determined to come out of this with something. Rather than spend energy on a liveblog that’s increasingly negative, I’m reading each manga act (mostly) silently, and then writing up summaries at the end. I won’t pull my punches. There’s going to be criticism and snark about the manga, either wholesale or in details. If that isn’t a thing you feel like reading, please skip this post!

*sniff* Smell that? It’s New Arc Smell! It comes with the beginning of each new segment of story, and carries the full-bodied richness of unfulfilled potential, accented by notes of disinterest and neglect, a strong floral undercurrent of inexplicable plot elements, and all bound by the overwhelming musk of unwarranted male lead importance.

BREATHE DEEPLY KIDS

We open with someone talking about lights, with the kind of intensity usually reserved for newlyweds picking out new fixtures at Home Depot. There are a lot of words used for basically saying “ominous”. I am positive we could’ve substituted all dialogue for “GWOOO” and saved ourselves a lot of time. It turns out that our narrator is Pharaoh 90, and immediately I’m concerned. When the manga introduces the arc with a multi-page P90 soliloquy and the anime only has it show up as a planet-sized eldritch abomination visible for a few frames in the arc’s climax, I know I’m in for a very different time.

Mamoru is awoken by the ~ominous~ of it all. He gets to wonder what the fuck is going on before Rei even gets to react. I hope some my righteous screaming will reach back through time and wake Takeuchi up from a beautiful dream she’ll never again recapture. I’m soothed by the knowledge that it might just, BECAUSE NO ONE IS GUARDING THE FUCKING TIME GATE

Usagi dreams of marrying Mamoru. Usagi needs a fucking sticker book or something for a new hobby, jesus wept. It’s really just Usagi sleeping through her alarm again, because she gets one fraction of the first issue every arc to be “normal”. But it’s okay! Five years of yelling in my Ask Box assures me that resetting things is only a problem in the anime. Being so late for school, Usagi skips out on the local news bulletin from KPLOT about people at Infinity Academy turning into “a primitive state”. Despite this being large enough to make it onto the news, no one will give a single shit. “Is Tokyo really worth saving at this point?” I ask the universe. The universe says, “I dunno, I stopped reading the manga twenty issues ago.”

As she runs up, Mamoru yells at Usagi for being late. That seems to me like yelling at your dog for licking its own asshole, like if that’s a deal breaker for you, maybe don’t get a dog, but anyway. BONUS PROTIP: next time have five or more conversations with someone before deciding to embrace a decision you made in a past life.

The next five pages are excruciating “cute” as Chibi-Usa interrupts Usagi and Mamoru time and Usagi is jealous and please god if you’re listening kill me now. We are twenty-two pages into this issue and the only non-Usagi Senshi to show up so far is Rei AND MAMORU STOLE HER JOB.

By the way, we get this moment:

and then on literally the next page, Usagi’s talking about how there hasn’t been shit going on since the Black Moon (WHICH WAS HOW LONG AGO ARE WE TALKING MONTHS YEARS IS THIS SINCE TUESDAY WHAT), and I just can’t stop thinking on how THIS IS THE LITERALLY THE WORST FUCKING TRAINING SITUATION POSSIBLE AND EVERYONE LOOKS LIKE AN IDIOT.

Meanwhile, in an impossible penthouse with an entire floor devoted to a swimming pool, Michiru swims alone and then orders a yacht from room service or something, and I want so much to enjoy that this is ridiculous but I know -- I KNOW -- I’m not supposed to see the ridiculous in this I’m just supposed to be impressed by it and I’m so sad because I even get a goddamn Sea Whisperer moment

BUT I WON’T BE ABLE TO KEEP IT WILL I MANGA I’M NOT ALLOWED EVEN THIS

Of course not, because on the very next page we get Haruka’s introduction, AND IT’S A MILLION TIMES MORE RIDICULOUS THEY HAVE THEIR OWN INDIVIDUAL HELICOPTERS NAMED AFTER THEMSELVES ENTIRE CROWDS ARE GATHERED TO CHANT THEIR NAMES BUT I’VE SEEN THIS SITUATION HAPPEN APPROXIMATELY 109482083 TIMES IN THE MANGA SO FAR AND IT’S SERIOUS IT’S ALWAYS COMPLETELY SERIOUS

My screaming aside, here’s what I’m actually taking away from the manga: the certainty that every single read I had on this in the anime

was completely, 100% absolutely correct, and it actually makes me love it EVEN MORE.

Usagi (with Naru in tow) arrive at the arcade, where Rei is grumpy and for a moment, my heart remembers how to love. Minako and Mako want Usagi to play the new racing game which is for reasons unknown to all NOT called “God Driving”, and there’s this:

Which I actually enjoy for a few seconds! Is Minako forcing Usagi to wear a helmet for the immersion, meaning Minako wore the helmet FIRST for the immersion, which means Minako went and got a crash helmet from somewhere to increase her video gaming pleasure which is a delight from start to finish. Or did Minako make Usagi wear the helmet because she has zero faith that Usagi wouldn’t fall out of the damned seat and crack her skull open, which still leads us to the winding trail of Minako obtaining this crash helmet for this purpose in the first place. TWO DELICIOUS ANSWERS THIS IS WHAT FUELS YOUR JET WOLF AND WHY SHE HAS BEEN SLOWLY STARVING TO DEATH

But no. No.

Because Haruka has a fucking helmet too, which means either the helmet is part of the game, or we only have helmets for the dramatic reveal of *gasp* Haruka Tenoh Is Hot, and I deflate like a bouncy castle at a canceled birthday party manga why do you hate fun and also me.

WAIT WHAT DO YOU MEAN NO FUN YOU MEAN LIKE THROWING UP IN YOUR MOUTH BECAUSE JUST WAIT

Michiru so far has been shown as Haruka’s accessory beautiful girlfriend, and now in her third appearance, she’s YET ANOTHER vehicle for talking about how awesome Mamoru is. Somewhere, Actual Michiru is screaming. Silently, and while plotting her slow revenge plan that will bear fruit years from now, but screaming.

OH NO WAIT I CAN EMPLOY A NEW REFERENCE I FINALLY GET

*Kill Bill siren*

As Haruka and Michiru leave, everyone talks about them behind their back. Umino arrives from nowhere to fulfill his mandated exposition component. We get two more pages about how awesome Haruka is. Somewhere, Actual Haruka is reading this and nodding while stacking three Oreos on top of each other and opening wide.

Outside, the ginzuishou reacts to a passing girl in a Mugen uniform, whose entire back rips open and a monster comes out, AS YOU DO. But she’s fine. Minako feels like someone’s watching her. “I don’t even get to be the premonition of the ‘premonition’ chapter, but you get this,” Rei grumbles. Minako isn’t listening. She’s too busy posing dramatically for the benefit of her secret audience.

“Maybe this all has something to do with Mugen,” Luna brilliantly concludes later.

“I think--” Minako thrusts her hip to the side. “--we should go and--” A toss of her head fans her hair out behind her in a dramatic arc. “--investigate Mugen Academy.” She clenches her fist and stares into the distance, the sounds of imagined clicking cameras echoing in her ears.

Usagi gets home just as Chibs is finishing up her date plans with Mamoru. Remember how in Black Moon I said I was actually kind of enjoying Chibi-Usa and how glad I was that it wasn’t reliant on the Mamoru-centric antagonism between her and Usagi? THE MANGA HEARD I LIKED SOMETHING AND WENT THE EXTRA MILE TO TAKE THAT AWAY

Ikuko actually has a line that says “I’m going to my weekly mother’s meeting so I can’t supervise [this child I’ve been brainwashed into believing is mine]”, and despite not intending to be funny, I laughed pretty hard. Chibs is going to a new amusement park at the place where all these people are turning into demons, and I really hope that comes up at Ikuko’s weekly mother’s meeting and everyone there is like “Oh that sounds great, I’ll send my kid tomorrow!”

Kaolinite is hanging out with Pharaoh 90 and chatting about, you know, stuff. She says she’s going to turn the Senshi into daimons, and she’s going to use the Witches 5 to do it. For some reason, Eudial doesn’t have a cupcake. The Witches are going to compete for P90′s phone number or something. I’m genuinely entertained by the fact the anime instantly did not give a single shit about any of this and just dropped it.

The next day, at Mugen, Rei says she senses things, and the realization that she’s happy she got even that much makes her die a little more inside. Ami talks about density readings of the building without a single hint of her visor or computer because I guess she can just fucking do that now. Mako says the wind is giving her an omen, and both Michiru and Haruka are like “can you not”. Minako again feels like someone is watching her. She performs a spontaneous dance routine she was up all night practicing. Everyone ignores her.

At The New Amusement Park At The Place Where People Are Turning Into Demons But It’s Fine, Mamoru is on a date with his fanboy. Why is his fanboy around at all? IT HAS BEEN LITERAL PAGES SINCE SOMEONE TOLD US HOW WONDERFUL MAMORU IS DON’T YOU KNOW THE IMPORTANCE OF THAT INFORMATION. Chibi-Usa has her own Umino and I am not even remotely kidding.

Chibs and Momoko are on a roller coaster when Chibs’ Hotaru-finding hat blows off. Chibs dumps her old friend to go find her new one, and again I’m pretty sure it’s not meant to be as hilarious as it actually is, but it really really is.

Meanwhile Usagi and the others are investigating Mugen Academy. Usagi uses the disguise pen to make her a Mugen student so she can go inside. The other girls have to sit outside doing nothing, because god forbid we have an extended scene requiring group dynamics which might actually be interesting and provide character depth. THIS IS THE MANGA YOU FOOL.

Still, both groups follow the sound of violin music. Usagi comes upon Michiru, while the others are intercepted by Haruka. Both are super threatening for literally no reason. WAY TO WORK BELOW THE RADAR LADIES SURELY THIS CAN ONLY AID YOUR MISSION

Usagi somehow gets noticed as not actually being a student, and she runs, bumping into Chibs, whose Hatdar has led her to Hotaru, collapsed outside of Tomoe Laboratories. As they try to help, a monster shows up. Meanwhile, from afar:

JESUS FUCKING WEPT IS HARUKA ONLY WEARING A CAPE TO PERPETUATE THIS MYSTERY ABOUT HER BEING A SENSHI AND WHY LIKE THIS BECAUSE I COULD OTHERWISE JUST ENJOY THE IDEA THAT HARUKA WANTS TO WEAR A GODDAMN CAPE BUT NO

As a side note, was this issue like three thousand pages or what, this write-up took for-fucking-ever.

#JW reads Sailor Moon #sm manga infinity #sm manga act 27 #jet wolf versus the manga #jet wolf summarizes the manga #a novel by jet wolf #gif warning

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allthecreepylittlethings · 6 years ago

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Childhood Nightmares: A Pinocchio Analysis

(TW: Before reading this, please be aware that this blog will discuss triggering issues like abuse, neglect, and human trafficking. Please skip this post if any of these topics upset you.)

I probably don't need to explain too heavily why Pinocchio would be talked about on a blog dedicated to all things creepy and disturbing. But I'm going to anyways because I blocked out this movie for years over one particular scene that I'll get to in a second.

And before we go too far, I want to make clear this is purely focused on the Disney movie. My Grandpa did start to read the actual book to me as a kid but we never finished, unfortunately. I already know that the original source material for this movie was far darker, but maybe I'll save that for another time.

The strange thing about Disney's Pinocchio is that most people remember enjoying it as a kid and there was a lot of subject matter that didn't really affect them. Except for, again, that one scene, which is still coming later. What was weird to me as a kid, however, was the fact that my mom really didn't seem to like the movie and kept emphasizing that a lot of it was scary, especially if you're a parent. I sort of shrugged this off, thinking she was just being overly sensitive. My mom and I have always had different tolerance levels when it comes to horror or disturbing subject matter, after all (not to pick on her. I love my mom!).

But when you re-visit the movie as an adult, it becomes a different experience entirely. What might have seemed like a whimsical story about a puppet learning how to build up his moral compass becomes a scary story about neglect, abuse, manipulation, and just an ugly town with characters bent on taking advantage on naive kids. While I could write ballads about all of this, I'm just going to break it down as briefly as I can.

Geppetto is a terrible parent...

Now to be clear, Geppetto is not a bad person. From the start of the movie we see that he's a very sweet-hearted old man, insanely talented as a clock and toy maker, and has two pets he treats with complete adoration and affection. He is a genuinely good person.

We also see his genuine desire to be a good father to Pinocchio. When he is granted his wish from the Blue Fairy and finally has a little boy, he welcomes Pinocchio with open arms and celebrates with him. He plans to send Pinocchio right off to school so he can learn like all little kids should. All of those points are good things and his heart is clearly in the right place.

So what makes him such a terrible parent in this movie? His complete obliviousness to Pinocchio's real needs and being almost completely negligent to his son's wellbeing. From the start, it's obvious Pinocchio has no idea what being a living being entails. He doesn't understand why he shouldn't play with fire, asks why people need sleep at all, and doesn't understand what the words "right" and "wrong" mean. He is completely naive, new to the concept of being a living thing, and clearly needs some time to adapt and learn more about his new life before plunging headfirst into trying to be a normal child.

This doesn't happen. Instead, the very next morning after Pinocchio comes to life, Geppetto sends him right out the door to go to school, not only expecting Pinocchio to understand how to ignore strangers and know his way to the school all on his own, but he also anticipates the outside world to just turn a blind eye to the fact that a LIVING PUPPET is suddenly walking among them with zero explanation. Even in the magical universe that is Disney, someone's going to notice that, if not everyone. And it's likely to be a terrifying experience for them. Or, if they're more of the villainous type, it's the perfect opportunity to exploit this oddity. Which is exactly what happens. Really, nearly the whole plot of this movie could have been avoided if Geppetto had just used his head and thought about what he was doing.

Stranger Danger...

One of a parent's worst nightmares is their child disappearing without a trace. It's one of those horrible realities that people have to prepare for and take precautions to avoid. Unfortunately, Pinocchio is still brand new to the world and knows nothing about any of this (and as mentioned above, Geppetto did nothing to teach him). This makes him a very easy target before even addressing the fact that he's a freak of nature, bound to attract attention.

The fact that there are characters immediately ready to take advantage of him is terrifying, and it naturally doesn't take much to trick him. What makes it worse, however, is it happens more than once. The first time Pinocchio runs into Honest John, he gets tricked into being sold to Stromboli, an extremely angry and violent individual who locks Pinocchio in a cage and tells him that once he becomes old and useless, he'll be chopped into firewood.

Stromboli is the first instance in the movie of what could easily be described as the Disney-friendly version of human trafficking. And that's not to downplay the horrors of real human trafficking. Obviously a work of fiction does not compare to the real thing, especially when it's a children's cartoon. But let me elaborate a bit on my reasoning for labeling it as such. Even if Pinocchio isn't being sold for... well, what human trafficking usually sells its victims for, it's still a disturbing concept. He's taken from his home by force, locked up so there's no escape, and is intended to be forced to perform in front of people for the rest of his life, which will end in a violent manner.

He is given a second chance when the Blue Fairy rescues him, but almost immediately after, he gets tricked again by the same people who betrayed him the first time. Of course they promise that this time it'll be different and he won't suffer, and he falls for it. This could be reminiscent of the cycle of abuse (grooming, violence, apology, repeat), and I can't help but wonder that if Pinocchio was taught anything about manipulative liars and how to spot someone who means harm, would things have turned out differently?

Okay... I've stalled long enough, so let's get to...

That Scene...

If Honest John and Stromboli were only a minor reference to human trafficking, they barely hold a candle to The Coachman, who may arguably be one of the most evil villains featured in a Disney cartoon. As a kid, my mom used to talk about how she felt Stromboli was the scariest character of the movie, and while he definitely was unsettling for his brief screen time, he just didn't compare. Not by a long shot.

When we're first introduced to The Coachman, we know something's very wrong with this guy. The fact that Honest John immediately assumes he's being hired to perform a hit for him should be enough of a hint that this character is a monster.

Again, this feels like a heavy lead-in to human trafficking as the conversation takes place. He explains that he's looking for "stupid little boys" and wants Honest John to help lure them to him. After he explains he plans to then take the boys to Pleasure Island, he adds that he has no worries about the authorities catching on because, "They never come back as boys..." Obviously, you can assume that he doesn't mean exactly what this sounds like, but it's still frightening line that I'll explain further in a second.

Pleasure Island, despite what creepy images the name alone might plant in your head, is still a messed up place but for completely different reasons. Here, the kids are encouraged to binge drink beer, smoke cigars, smash and destroy anything they get their hands one, and basically just do whatever they want (and I will admit... that kinda looked fun when I was a kid). Underage drinking/smoking aside, they're lured into this false sense of security where they can be themselves without being punished, and the friendly Coachman encourages them all to do it. All the while, the children never notice the figures in black, shutting and locking the gates so there's no way they can get out. They're trapped and unable to realize it until it's way too late.

And then... that scene... Oh God, that scene...

We discover in one of the most horrifying scenes ever presented in a cartoon, that the children are being turned into donkeys to be sold to places like the salt mines or the circus. Even more upsetting is the ones that didn't fully complete the transformation are tossed into a pile on the side and deemed as useless. We never learn of their fate but I can only assume it's not good. Watching Lampwick discover what's happening to him and frantically screaming for his mother, all while knowing no one is coming to save him is a hard thought for even a kid to swallow.

What makes this scene so much worse as an adult is having that full understanding that the children are being robbed of their humanity through the transformation and just how awful of a concept that really is. This was always a horrifying concept to me to the point where I've never been able to watch The Dark Crystal more than once because of that goddamn podling scene, and I still struggle through Willow because of the pig scene. Since we still see emotions of fear and sadness coming from the donkeys as they're being sold off, it almost dips more into, "I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream," territory. They know what's happening to them, but they'll never be able to call for help or tell anyone. Even if they were to somehow bump into their families later in life, they'll never be able to tell them, "Help! It's me! I'm still alive!" Again, this also feels eerily similar to human trafficking. They're robbed of their humanity, sold to the highest bidder, and silenced so they can never reach out for help.

"They never come back... as boys..."

Their only hope is that someone somewhere discovers what the Coachman is doing and puts a stop to it. But that never happens. There is no final comeuppance, no justice, the children are never saved, and The Coachman is likely still doing this long after the movie is over. I mean, we can hope Pinocchio or Jiminy alerted someone about this after they're safe at home again, but we ultimately never know if they did. Even after he reunites with Geppetto and gets asked what happened to him, he goes quiet and doesn't tell him and that's honestly heartbreaking when you think about the fact that he's a victim of trauma and just a child.

Now, I could write about Monstro and how terrifying that whale of a whale was, but he gets a pass because, unlike the other characters who played the villain, Monstro was just an animal. Not a vindictive, manipulative, horrible piece of garbage. Just an animal living as an animal would. If someone happened to get swallowed along the way, it wasn't entirely deliberate, it was because he was hungry. So while he is his own brand of nightmare fuel, it's not in the same way as the characters I've described above.

Looking back, I remember loving this film as a kid and thinking it was just another story of adventure where important lessons are learned along the way. But now that I'm older, a parent, and have had a bit more life experience, Pinocchio is not what I remembered it to be. I'm not saying I don't still love the movie. I do! In fact I've found more bits to love about it, re-watching it as an adult. But the thing is, it's far from a happy movie. Just because it has a happy ending does not mean it's a happy movie. Pinocchio embarks on a horror story of being manipulated, used, imprisoned, nearly killed several times, being made to watch as new friends are subjected to a cruel fate, and only barely managing to make it home alive. And again, he's just a child. He single-handedly goes through a gauntlet of horrors most adults will never see in their entire lifetime, just in the span of a few days.

I don't know what sort of adult he ultimately grew up to become, but I wouldn't doubt that this misadventure messed him up for a long time.

#pinocchio #disney #tw: human trafficking #tw: abuse #tw: child abuse #analysis

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castlehead · 7 years ago

Text

[CAPARISON'D]

There is no judgment slightly more than kind Now left that wld apply to this suggestive thing

Artlessly done as it is, but like the Earth is artless, Myself the experience of the Earth I have, or

Rather, am able to communicate; sometimes Nothing more than that, and in those cases feel

I am but shavings of selfhood, not so held fully in A Physical Body, yet not even able to accurately

Imitate reality outside of my a priori orb: I always Fail to bring it back: example is one time I was

Supposed to buy pot for this trip to this dude I used To know's house in Martha's Vineyard but thought

Cops / Were throwing shade where I was even tho Probably like one patrol car had driven past me

Or whatever, somewhere on Columbus on the stoop Of this brownstone out of many -it was an affluent

Neighborhood, a few blocks from my house- and Anyway paranoia got to me before the dealer, whose

Name -which was really probably more like a nickname- Was 'Talon' -yo, man.. it's been so long I'd thought of

That. I remember: I ghosted into the / Better, darker Shade of pregnant shade my room had, the one I used

To hate and love at the same time, and which my irritated Mother oft wld clean up for me, and which smelt of humiliation,

Like a group of people opening your door and immediately Stepping in dog vomit -I feel indifferent about it as I am older

Now, and it's been two years since I dropped The ball and fell out of a window- I mean / Chicken'd

Out of getting the Pot.- The monotony is I almost Do get it, every time, stuffing it furiously

Into a fannypack i always lose, bc I must lose, it / Then End up having to purchase more fannypacks: o ugly futility: it is

Like when my gf and I lost our wallets pretty Sequentially, like, within the space of a week, the way

We [both of us] lose our minds, certainly, every day: and the spirit of-- Reality? It goes and expires, the schmuck, from exposure in snowy

Caverns after my 9th goddamn Fannypack. / It hid so long Within the ear and don’t come out but

As such, by its knotty refusals, tells me how meaning sounds: Now what’s the story here: these heroes, makars, tune

Up me, leave me a lyric without an epyllion, an extended Sequence of spongy self-regard that grows in the heart of

These strange routes to find my wallet, yet much like Exposure to cold climates, mayest I find where

Nestles this goon what who stole my griefy solemness

Took my schedule for my weeping: I must meet My grief-quota, and pushing myself into my findings

I perform more experiments with beakers and shit But in vain seem to leave my sanity figuratively burnt

In the corner, ignore her either bc I find her precious Or bc I am neglectful, and usually ignorant

OF the long-time effect of loosening yr circadian Rhythm, which I guess would be apposite to The rhythm of when it was time to cry in public.

Finagling finesse, or robbing silence Of hours and hours / Of record.

Which one is worse? And are either Productive? And will Vaping give

Me early onset Dementia? I don't want to be A dull boy. I feel like buried beneath the concrete

Built of all great men Looms the rind of the thing,

The res' residue of Gd. That prays away inside all heroes

Like the precious goop inside a jelly Donut, a goop or honey / They seem

To acquire endlessly from caverns of perspective As sound the mechanical counting thuds of heart.

. . . . . . . . . .

Of all the spooky diameters these figures tell me To follow till the finish, / These podunk palings

Are the worst. Stretching up the road indeterminately To someplace / Out of sight and that

The poet is not even sure is actually there. The thing you have done, the court of bees in

My head tell me, While you do not mind a response To this yet you tiptoe / Over that, puts pressure on

The work of a gaggle / Of random bros that can clone Themselves / Sifting into creation like wild atomic dust.

I hear this propounding from the court of bees, Crones lift up the light to me like strange furniture,

Double over under its [wait] weight and drop that Massive coffin of light into the local undrained swamp.

In that fabulous mire will yr body sleep; you will always Harbor / In your chest that detailed yet subtle truth about you nobody

Knws about for certain, the thing you had no choice to Be, that blurs yr eyes, I speak of it you, saith the swarm.

. . . . . . . . . .

Honestly, write as speech of moment, yeh: Stuff about / The time passing, your thighmuscles

Clenching as you sit here realizing u clench Yr ass too, and then everything goes

Into this goofy rhythm of tearsdrops of moment And the same your toes, / Some anxiety hoping

To accelerate the past / From you and your palings. Surrounding you, as if to jump you for money-

-Flits the doom that could fit in like I didn't in Highschool; yes I became the cliché misfit as

The spirit’s lull in me, waiting for shitty misfit Carnage to end: I had to welcome it, it was

The life of me, it was either that or liberation From life-entire. Almost dozing off, the security

Guard in my brain hears a rustling in the bushes. / Try To deck out these pithy voices in something

Nice and acceptable, a'saith, said The Bees, and Said the Bees, End up shaking no crown, / Nor did free myself

Of anything for nothing at all but what I did, a crime that Is, of being th the hellish flower flowering out my Lungs, into your basic realm with every breath,

As the voice of the speaker Of the pome seems undecided on who

Is actually speaking, me or you, I'd say The only thing to do is duel it out, poet

And the carnage in my hands, coming In frank whorls of feeling that efface

My sense of balance with its own glee Of shaky grip, which I trust, and I boil

With the energy / Of fifteen Wellbutrin today. I am left here to my work that's called, "To be all

The way true with myself" Which comes From this very domepiece here, you all. That I-

-Can ever be an audience to myself, forever, Is enough of an accomplishment as a poet.

. . . . . . . . . .

The writing, tho, is another voice telling me about Myself, knocking on my skull for hollow spots

To take a sledgehammer to. It drifts, I think, / Thru many People, explaining whatever's holy around them: like ticks

Finding weeds by the broken gate That grow in an unnatural sort of way like

They got sprayed with chemicals Or something, though,

Perhaps the ground is bad, by the broken gate. Where I make my desolate way to work,

Have my desolate work done, or to say, this crime: I say my continuum: I despoil my ego, sure, but that is not the crime. I-

-Intend the risk, but have in me some coward Pushing back, repeatedly asking me if I'm

Crazy or something: suddenly I am fallen To the breaches of the World, so as to find

My Gd., the one that is the baroque one, And wriggle about as if I was a child on her

First plane ride: my ears hurting popping Cabin pressure and hellish something

Outing my innermost / What if's about The Baby; so it, like conjuring a thesis

Statement, shapes something of all That contradicting Clay into

Something my inner nobody can handle, frail as he is he Lays muted, finally attached to the beauty / Of the flower

. . . . . . . . . .

In my lungs. Go inside an Outside place, something says,

Permeating thru a fog of voices, Pieces, The bees they are long gone,

And I am not alone: so: notice Yr location, detail by detail,

The plain sense here is there: My symmetry is more than bothered air:

It is calls to me made by the telephone: I listen patiently to the dialtone as it weeps,

All things then taking on a character of Consciousness. I apply my consciousness

To others, like ravens do maybe. And then It is / Almost done, as is the inching doom:

I should b at this moment receiving Nourishment from feeding Tube, A coma patient suspended in Unbroken sleep, loved ones hoping He'll waken to his will again, Those I love / Doubly forsaken By me who thought he ws. forsaken

By the World.-- This perpetuity is a moody little fate I have in me, It is the location I notice, like you said, you, thru The fog. Happy? Now it won't leave. It is like A mouse i'the wainscot [Dickinson] / Telling me Myself, poet or perhaps the man, or the opening sun Once more to strange and futile dawns since since I do live, and live: so I am: and I have my own

Special clan of becketts picking Sundries from their asses

Soothing my jagged impressions of the World With familiar image, smoothing like a ironing Board; and, they keep policing the fictions on Which rest the reasoning behind my writing Behavior, why I did a song so very long.

. . . . . . . . . .

"Old father old artificer Stand me now and ever in good stead." Rough the linens on my deathbed are, and scratchy, It's wool I always hated the texture of when I was A kid: now of course, am a Loathing Regular of All On the internet, / Intent on memes to the last, he was, That's what it'll say on my epitaph. / In all my strength I say, then, or entreaty my messd up life disappear into

The dawn that I think has something wrong With it, it seems like it is kind of off, like People who are confined in boarding houses For the mentally ill. From my screaming Radio I hear someone selling Cadillacs. It Was not midnight. It was not raining. It was The fence that was my crime, outstretched Into stupid distances like a Wyoming of the Dirty cosmos, dirtier than silence cures the Exegete. I profit sentence by sentence, see,

And the Ars Poetica is a way to send a treatment Of the play to The Hollywood. Sentence is a line Robbing my habitat, until I am inside looking in, For the sky stops at the ground, and that is all. The mirror falls, and I must write out savage Things like this, that make up their mind About what they are, interest only

In keeping symmetrical. My soul needs exit From any light, even of lamp, it needs a Hypnotic Like Ambien to trip out on and slump over Dinner with my family later, still fucked up on It. Then something stops, not time, I do Not want it to be anything like time. Perhaps Verbosity: but I do comment

On epiphanies well enough to know the sound OF epiphany, without knowing what exactly The sudden clarity reveals. Did one look at What one saw, or did one see what

One looked at? -Thats me stealing from Hart Crane. Great artists steal because they see

How a style can be improved, so adopt it, make It better. Such sins amass; the Angels sing, O Theft!

Theft! And I go ahead plant a knife enough a knife for some Australian guy to say, "THATS A KNIFE." But not

Enough to charge anybody with anything, then somehow Twist it into a hate crime, duly distracting The Angels

From their liminal matters of blame upon me I am / Not thieving, I am making belated what Came before me, sort of like Mars in retrograde;

The stiff providence of fences and unlimited Bougie refernces atone for my ubiquitous use

OF all the best parts of everything, to make them Better than they were, written by those

Who wore a style like a 18th century noble Wears a musket: protectively. He honors most My steal, sorry, i mean style, who works under it-

-To destroy the teacher, saith Whitman, But that is love: all he didnt have was a hand On the button ol Kimmy J is foaming at the mouth

To push, destruction is abstraction, sure; Destruction here is used loosely for the sake of Serenity of speaking phrases gone away

Like they all went on a family vacation or something. Bleed, and you will summon presence enough To empty yourself for sleep [Faulkner] or make An infidel of abraham and Split the-

-Planets [Melville] and this cosmos is a trunk Of Blanche Dubois fine french furs, I bet you think this is

That, as on I go in a struggle to prove to everyone That I saw God & junk, on that day I got high On SSRIs and grasped for sense only to find it Under the control of something espionage And aloof, darting eyes not like a villain

But like a Paranoid Raven, then dies me as opposed To not: Reversal of some happy bumps in the day To make up for all the spooky ones in the night That hint at me like the first oncomings of ALS And I have not a feature film but hope the grass Is green as well on this margent of further sides Then abrupt belief, to dive in an' conquer or Repel sense back to Plato's Cave, which is a-

-Reference I shouldnt be using as I oh puritanical collector Of souls, well, I havent read Plato at all but i feel like if i did

Id be made another mans satellite, as Emerson, Somewhat in the vein of Blake, says in his introduction

To the essay Nature, I think that's the one. So: A hawk crosses the sky like there was some

A to B GPS followment but it is probably just migrating early. Take everyone back to the city. [Ashbery]

FURTHERANCE

#poem #poetry #pome #powtry #writing #latest dookie #new work

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c9sneaksen-blog · 8 years ago

Text

on a heartstring [2]

Word Count: 2534

Alright. Guess who went over the limitations by 500 words just one week after they established the limitations…

… Me! And I guess I can’t help it. Hopefully we can all look past that and enjoy the chapter anyway.

Need to recap before proceeding? Click here to read part one!

—

Normally, usually, under typical circumstances, the sound of a bell would be quite unpleasant, quite off-putting, and quite, well, quite fucking terrible to Zach. However, this time, it was not just the bell– but the bell that transitioned seventh period– to eighth period.

And eighth period, mind you, was Drama. And Zach had been waiting for this all day– as dorky, geeky, and nerdy as it sounded. So, just once– for a nice change of pace– Zach, as he was awoken from his half-daydream-half-dream-dream (as in, he had nodded off at some point during class), had never been more glad to hear the school bell ring in his 17 revolutions around the sun. (Well, excluding that time in freshman year when he really needed to pee, and it was an hour long assembly.)

It was a fairly calm walk down to the auditorium– located on the east side of the building; the side that was also known for the dirtied, paint-chipped walls, yellowed with age, mysteriously bad smells lurking about the deeper in you went. Once a week, it smelled of teacher-bought windex and used disinfectant wipes– but usually only on Mondays.

Zach pushed open those tall, oak doors, the outer coating of shine and polish long worn away, and was met with the old, and delightful, scent of a years-old auditorium.

Yes, for sure, years-old– the school, as most American schools are, are funnily and peculiarly neglectful of their arts programs… and their basic necessities. Interestingly enough, the school football field had, however, recently gotten newer renovations.

But, the auditorium was no place to be thinking about things like that. Especially not when this was Zachary Scuderi’s favorite class of the day, and he was not going to let the basic necessities– or lack thereof– or football field renovations– ruin any of it.

The auditorium was quite large, best described to be the (non-alcoholic) love cocktail of vellichor and anemoia; the combined forces of a favorite bookstore coupled with the amusement park you often passed during road trips, always eyeing the large rollercoasters up and, somehow, never having crossed paths with it. To the naked eye, it looked fairly normal– with the faded, red, scratchy seats and a big, semicircle stage, wood worn and floorboards creaky in all of the places that heroes and villains and love interests have walked upon. There were stage lights missing– there were always and were always going to be stage lights missing– speakers not yet obscured from audience view via large, crimson curtains– the steps leading down the aisles alight with neon yellow glow sticks.

However, to the eye of the theatre kid, or to the techie, the auditorium was two parts fitzcarraldo, one part grandiose. Within those creaky floorboards, dusty chests of props unused, just mild must in the air, there was something special, something magical– a magic that was not open to all; because, truth was, where the floorboards are pulling apart on stage, and the upholstery peeling away on the seats, the theatre kids and the tech crew see stories– they see dreams– they see the marks of those who sat in the seats before them, the footsteps, the same traffic patterns over, and over, circulating all over stage; of musicals produced long ago, of dances, of many kisses– some with secrets scrawled in between the hearts and the initials on the walls of the dressing rooms in the back– people saw. But the theatre kids– the tech crew– see.

It was a magic that was reserved for the kids who had scenes and lines racing in between the bare spaces of their mind, not yet occupied by something of the outside, darting in and out of aisles of paint-chipped walls and creaky doors, rough curtains and scratchy seats– a magic that was seldom shared– only ever on production nights could other students see– feel– hear.

As Zach seated himself in one of those worn, red seats scattered aisles upon aisles, the noisy class– lots of faces, mostly familiar, a couple unsure and new, seated amongst themselves– were greeted by the drama teacher.

“Ayy,” said teacher chortled, walking onto stage from behind the long curtains, seating himself down on stage, legs dangling off, “welcome to Drama, everybody– but before I start talking– can you guys hear me?” Gesturing to lots of kids– mostly new– seated towards the back of the auditorium, he then effused, “If you can’t, move up! Please! Seriously. My doctor said at the rate I’m going, I’m going to lose my voice in ten years. And he was like, ‘why are you yelling so much?’ And then I told him why– I’m a Drama teacher at a high school– and he just sighed.”

This seemingly bubbly, light-hearted, and especially loquacious man– was Mr. C, as he liked to be called (“my real name is weird, you see,” he had said, and always said, on the first day of class, “so just call me Mr. C.”)– and, as he had just told the class, he was, in fact, the Drama teacher at the high school. He was well-liked and quite beloved by all of the students, though, even more adored by the theatre kids and tech crew alike. He was, in reality, quite a peculiar teacher– having once been a mathematics professor at one of the local universities– and he was quite young, too, at the age of 29. Mr. C was best known for his talkative nature– and to be caught laughing at most of his own jokes (lots of which were horrible puns)– but, of course, he was kind, and empathetic, and, in his own right, pretty hilarious, and this, of course, won him some favor from his students.

Students responded to this plea by moving up, albeit tentatively, some aisles towards the front. “Yes, just like that!” Mr. C was now gesticulating wildly, in his own, funny little way of encouraging this action, “Really– you all look as though you were prepared to run out through the back doors in case this all went south. I don’t bite– so don’t worry! The only thing you’ve got to worry about here are the mice. But they aren’t particularly wild, so I doubt they’re going to bite.” Half of the students laughed at this, while the other half recounted the actual, very real, incidents that involved mice in the room.

“So– hello! I’m Mr.–” Cut off by the horrid ringing of the schoolbell, Mr. C sighed and stopped, “okay, as I was saying– I’m Mr. C– just Mr. C. You can ask all of the other students why I am just so–”

“His real name’s weird!” An unruly boy stood up, proclaimed this, and then sat down.

“Yes,” Mr. C bellowed back, “thank you, Jack. Anyway– as I was saying– to some of you, welcome back to Drama!” The garrulous and chipper drama teacher scanned his eyes across the room, landing upon a particular group of people, and, mysteriously, his eyes then bounced over to a corner of the room, “And to some of you– welcome– for the first time! And, on that note, we’ve got some introductions to do…”

As he was met by sunken, nervous eyes, leg jiggles and raveling and unraveling hands, Mr. C scooted closer to the back of the stage, tucking his legs into a criss-cross sitting position, “Now, now, I know. Introductions are weird, and bad, and awkward. Which leads me to ask you– group of people whom I’ve not ever seen before– and any others with unfamiliar faces– how many of you are here for tech?” Practically the entire group raised their hands– at which, Mr. C chuckled.

“Alright, you guys– I guess you’re fine.” Zach inwardly laughed at himself and the rest of the tech crew– it was true that they were the antisocial backbone of the theatre. “But, surprise! I was actually not going to ask most of you to introduce yourselves– just one person!” With a quick (and somehow graceful– albeit mildly wild) motion, and a couple of strong snaps of the finger, he gestured to the corner that he had previously glanced towards, “You! Right. You’re the one I’m picking on this year.”

Mr. C did this every year; he would always pick out one person amongst the crowd of people that he did not recognize, and asked them to introduce themselves. Of course, if you said no, you said no (Mr. C was not a heartless, cruel monster of a teacher)– but, funnily enough, he had a great eye to pick out the actors and actresses of these new, unfamiliar crowds of people, and, as they were to be the actors and actresses in the sea of the theater, they typically did not mind introductions.

Zach instinctively looked over to watch this figure– a quite lanky one at that– hesitantly make their way over by the stairs to the stage, as did all of the other theatre kids, and techies, and to-be-techies.

And his first thought was, wow, he looks really fucking cool.

And this was thought because, well, he did, in fact, look extremely cool. This figure– quite lanky, yet short– shorter than Zach, probably, he supposed, looked quite cool with the stage lights atop him– illuminating his ghostly white paleness, his dirty blond hair, and his eyes, even– quite blue, Zach could see, even being a couple of aisles away from the stage. They were quite striking– in such a way that it both made you curious of him, want to get to know him– and also made you highly intimidated of him. That might have just been Zach, though.

This incredibly skinny, ghostly, cool-looking figure wore equally cool-looking clothing. He donned a white shirt– which, beneath the lighting, Zach could observe, was not at all baggy, but almost had the illusion of being so (particularly because this figure was so skinny)– a black jacket with silver-colored zippering, which ended just below his shirt (and was well-fitted in the way that it may have made his shoulders look broader, though, his lankiness was unmistakable), and black jeans. Zach supposed he probably wasn’t the sort to like flashy colors, but– the way he was dressed now– was quite cool in its own right.

“Wow, you look quite ghostly,” Mr. C uttered– possibly what everyone, including Zach, was thinking– “you are an actor, right? You look quite pale to be up on stage. Unless, of course, you are just that pale,” he stopped himself from further speaking (before his garrulous nature made him get out of hand), “are you?”

For a split second, the figure looked out into the sea of theatre kids– looking much darker and hidden in comparison to his figure beneath yellow stage lights– and had a bit of an out-of-breath laugh. “Yes,” was all he had said.

“Well, I won’t stop you, I guess, from however way you would like to introduce yourself,” Mr. C lightly encouraged him, “although, if you’d like to sing a little ditty about yourself– or tell us in Shakespearean language– who you may be, and where you are from, and what you’d like for us to call you– because who you are and who you’d like to be called are, in actuality, two very different things– then, I won’t stop you from that either.”

Zach felt a tad bit bad for this student, who was currently staring into the audience– some sort of an abyss– some sort of an abyss that still withheld people in its strange sort of way. And then, he opened his mouth.

“‘Sup,” he uttered, voice wavering just a tad bit, as he removed his right hand from his jacket pocket briefly to flash a little peace sign– to no one in particular– “uh… I’m Nicolaj.” For comfort, or for knowledge, he glanced at Mr. C’s sitting form, who looked up at him in a sort of “go on, then” way. “I’m from Denmark.” Then, as if to fulfill some sort of verbal quota, he quickly added, “Nicolaj Jensen. That’s– my full name. If Nicolaj’s too hard for you, you can just call me Jensen.”

Then, he smiled– and not into the seemingly empty, yet existent crowd of people– but, seemingly, at Zach.

Never having been randomly smiled at by strangers much before (unless you counted all of those “aunts” at large-scale family reunions), Zach was unsure of how to respond. With great uncertainty, he offered a tiny, albeit timid, smile back. This figure– Nicolaj Jensen– feeling relieved to have gotten some sort of response back, for consolement, broke out into a bit of a grin, and averted his bright, blue eyes away.

And Zach’s second thought was, oh, wow, he’s very attractive.

But he couldn’t really be sure that he hadn’t already thought that at the start– it was, in fact, entirely possible that he had merely only acknowledged said thought up to this point.

He felt something weird and warm crawling around in the palms of his hand, riding his trains of veins all throughout his arms, feeling them tingle and spark– for seemingly– no good reason.

“Wow,” Mr. C had chirped, “from Denmark? I knew you were special from all the rest! I mean, not to say that all of the kids here aren’t special. But– well– you get what I mean.” Momentarily, he stared up into the stage lights, as though he saw something of interest– then, completely disregarded this, turning back to the new student. “And why, might I ask, are you here?”

Tugging upwards on his collar, almost as though to bite it, then deciding against it, Jensen replied, “I mean…,” his tongue-heavy accent slipping through the cracks of his voice, “for the same reason that everyone else is here?”

Zach couldn’t help but inhale a bit of a laugh through his nose at that one.

“Very tricky answer,” Mr. C remarked, wiggling a singular eyebrow at this response, almost as though to both commend Jensen for his answer and to poke good-natured fun at it, “anyways.” he clapped his hands together, standing up from his spot on stage in a swift motion, “what an interesting introduction we’ve had this year! You can step down now.” Jensen– a bit enthusiastically, with a bit of a phew escaping his lips– hopped down from the stage, foregoing the stairs. “Just don’t sit in that little corner again! Be one with all of these theatre kids– and tech kids.”

As though his feet moved on their own, Jensen found himself at the ends of an aisle– where a certain bronze-haired, similarly blue-eyed (although they were framed with glasses), boy sat. So he sat there– on that end– Zach seated two seats down from him towards the middle.

Zach gave him a quarter of a wave, raising his fingers off of the armrest of his seat, coupled with a more confident smile this time. He mouthed, “Hey.”

“Yo,” Jensen mouthed back, flashing another peace sign.

And for the rest of class, Jensen sat, quietly, listening to the ramblings of his strange new teacher, Mr. C. And Zach tried to ignore the steadily-spreading warmth that had begun to creep up the back of his neck.

#submission #fan work #Sneaksen fic #tianhuo #on a heartstring (2/15)

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taeguboi · 8 years ago

Text

So Far Away PART 07

So it’s kinda been a while since I added on to this series. I had specific ideas for this one so it took a while to bring it all together and I also wanted a longer part again like the 1st. I’m also trying something a bit different and incorporating fake texts and whatnot and I might go back to the previous parts and do the same if necessary.

This involves many flashbacks so I hope they are apparent... there is a lot of switching between the present and past.

Angst, smut

PART: 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 // Masterlist

“1. He’s going to fucking hit me

2. ...Or maybe he will just leave…?

3. He’s going to give in again.”

Hoseok releases a deep sigh in attempt to untense himself, and letting his shoulders rest down, he turns away and Jeongguk guesses the elder has no fight left in him about this entire situation, so he is surprised when Hoseok finally speaks, managing to grab Jeongguk by the wrist without even looking.

“No questions; follow me.”

Jeongguk tries to hold back a nervous laugh as he kind of feels like he has no choice in the matter, being dragged with Hoseok’s firm grip around his wrist… not that he is finding himself trying to pull away. This isn’t really the way he imagined this would be, but this is going to happen, this is happening, it will have happened.

And maybe it can be just that easy. What if actually, all this crap from the past few days just got dropped and things went back to normal? Because this right now, is basically the same as many other times; ignore, argue, fuck. It’s funny really, Jeongguk thinks, it sounds so simple, yet it somehow becomes so complicated.

Trying his hardest not to think, entering Hoseok’s room, he allows himself to be pushed up against the door in the same way as Hoseok had allowed Jeongguk to all those months ago.

“...but unlike you, I'm willing study and leave one night of getting pissed and high, so you just go and fuck off to that randomer’s house and leave me in peace, yeah?” Jeongguk snaps.

“Come on man, it's basically mandatory to go to the first party since New Year’s all together, the crew from the house, so just get that pencil out your butt and let loose for once, will ya?” Hoseok replies, clearly convinced that his persuasion skills are top notch and that his stubborn child dorm mate will be out of here by the end of the hour.

“I said ‘fuck off’, didn't I? Why the heck do you care whether I go to the stupid thing or not? It's not like it's anything special; I can go do that shit any other night, and not with you, thanks…” Jeongguk states, turning back to his desk to read. “Close the door on your way out, will ya?”

Hoseok grunts in frustration. He can't believe what is happening here: the first house party of the year, and this idiot would rather be studying? No fun at all; no wonder there's never a day we don't fucking argue. Why the fuck did the others put me of all people up to this shit anyway? Kid can stay in his room all year for all I care.

Sure, Jeongguk was probably correct - Hoseok sure as hell doesn't give a damn how the kid spends his night, but on the other hand it's physically painful to see someone torture themselves and enjoy themselves so little when there's plenty of time to waste for now.

“Your choice, I guess…” Hoseok grumbles and leaves Jeongguk’s room.

Finally. Jeongguk thinks to himself, getting up to shut the neglected door. The sound of the door being shut is followed by a vibration buzzing against Jeongguk’s desk.

“Hngh, what now?” he whines to himself, picking up the phone.

1 New Message

Why is everyone such a bad influence goddammit? Some of us came to uni for a qualification and to learn, not to get smashed and lose brain cells each night!

Jeongguk sighs and lets his phone drop harshly onto the desk as he picks up a textbook and begins reading.

All has gone well for Jeongguk in this past hour, efficiently studying and being productive, but of course, this type of working environment always ceases in one way or another around here. It is another text message that infects his productive bubble and kills it completely.

2 New Messages

Unfortunately for Jeongguk, Jimin is at the very same address as ‘the crew from the dorm’, meaning tonight is going to be a bother either way and he can’t really win: don’t go to and meet Jimin and get his phone spammed all night, or go to this thing and get his ears spammed by Hoseok all night about how persuasive and amazing he is…

Jeongguk allows Hoseok to attack his neck with aggressive purple marks and this only makes him want to fight back in a similar manner. Why does he always give in to this guy? It doesn't even take for his elder to say more than a sentence anymore to be drawn in. Jeongguk decides it’s time to take control after the third mark has been made on him and pushes Hoseok off him, forcing him to release from his bruised neck.

Hoseok glares at Jeongguk in confusion and Jeongguk senses a bit of anger in Hoseok’s eyes at this sudden movement.

“Don't even try that shit with me ‘Guk” Hoseok huffs, already frantically fumbling to undo his jeans.

“Don't you have somewhere to be?”

“Just fucking get down on your knees before I regret it” is all Hoseok instructs.

In a pit of defeat, Jeongguk obeys, not daring to even tease his elder; he has wanted for this to happen again so much that he knows he might as well do this under Hoseok’s conditions.

Just under a sentence is all it can take.

I knew he'd come around, Hoseok thinks to himself upon happening to catch a glance of Jeongguk in his peripheral vision. Not a further thought of his younger crosses his mind as he focuses on his primary thoughts and focus of tonight.

He knows he looks good.

He could have anyone he wants tonight in this house.

Anyone.

A lonely Jimin downs the third shot of the minute as he sees his best friend heading towards him.

“Jeonggukieee! My hubbieee!”

“Are you sure you need me around tonight Chim?” Jeongguk questions, attempting to be seated on the arm chair next to Jimin in the limited space this house has to offer. “‘Seems you're giddy already…”

“Yah ‘Gukkie!” Jimin exclaims, playfully punching the younger on the arm. “That's not how you greet your soul mate!” he pouts, as though it had been Jeongguk to have just whacked him on the arm.

Jeongguk rolls his eyes, barely rubbing his arm. “You don't know what you're saying…”

“I know they're here somewhere; I KNOW THEY CAN HEAR ME! They can hear me having a marriage that's better than theirs!!!!” Jimin shouts, forcing Jeongguk into his arms whilst scanning the room.

Attempting to hush his boisterous friend, Jeongguk holds his hand out Jimin mouth “Jesus Chim, shhhh! Or it won't be just Namjoon and Seokjin hearing you…” Jeongguk informs, eyes darting round the room.

“Aw what's the use ‘Guk? I'm just not up to my usual standard tonight… especially not with him around…” replies Jimin, resting his cheek into his limp fist, glancing across the room with jealousy.

“With who around?”

“You haven't seen him?! With Mr. Dimples over there looking fine as hell, I've got major competition tonight…”

“Where are you even looking?”

“There, look!”

“Where?!”

“There!!!”

Huh?... Jeongguk thinks to himself, not wanting to seem dumb and ask again… but he just cannot understand who Jimin is pointing to. The only guy he can see looking not too shabby is…

Him.

Damn.

He does look fine.

Jeongguk glances up to Hoseok as he shuffles at the elder’s waistband, fully taking in and appreciating the way Hoseok looks down on him with hooded eyes. Perhaps a bit too harshly, Jeongguk grips onto the waistband and slams his fists downwards, roughly releasing Hoseok’s length which is already dripping with precum.

Sliding his thumb over the tip, Jeongguk slides the liquid down the prominent vein, causing Hoseok to hiss - out of pleasure or frustration, Jeongguk is yet to discover.

“Quit fucking playing around ‘Guk. Straight to the point will do.” Hoseok demands, making Jeongguk’s stomach turn with anticipation. Despite most of the boys’ past sexual encounters being somewhat angsty, this darker side to Hoseok only excites the younger, almost making Jeongguk forget to care about his actions over the past few days, because he's starting to think that maybe this argument was worth it.

Besides, it's getting progressively harder to see Hoseok under any other light, particularly when he can hear him cursing under his breath as he forces himself into Jeongguk’s bitter mouth, resulting in Jeongguk submissively groaning, hoping there's a chance his elder could be a bit kinder on him. Of course, his whines prove pointless in his case and only encourage Hoseok to thrust himself in more aggressively, and Jeongguk can't help but allow for himself to be used and abused.

The way that jacket hugs his slender figure; the glasses he’s wearing as a fashion statement that make him look so mature and grand; the choker that hugs his golden slender neck… Jeongguk just wishes the guy would take off the jacket already; they’re indoors for fuck’s sake! He can tell the guy is wearing a simple black shirt underneath, simple, yet so enticing…

...and who has Jeongguk been thinking about in such a hungry manner for the past hour?

Fucking Hoseok, of all people; the one dorm mate that always fucking rubs Jeongguk up the wrong way, yet tonight, the thought is gradually building, the big ‘what if?’

‘What if we rubbed the right way?’

“Oh my god! Gross ‘Gukkie! I didn’t know your mind worked that way!” Jimin exclaims as Jeongguk’s heart drops into his stomach, not realizing he was thinking out loud.

“Fuck’s sake Jimin, let me live! This is horrible! This is terrible! This is…”

“Fucked up!” Jimin interrupts. “I thought you said you hated him? And now, I’ve been paying attention to you Jeon Jeongguk for the best of an hour, don’t think I haven’t been, I feel like we’re one sentence away from you telling me you wanna fuck him…”

“Aish! No no no!” Jeongguk exaggerates, flapping his arms around. “It’s not that; it’s just… I’m surprised I guess?”

“Surprised at what? ‘Guk, I know you basically want to rip the guy’s limbs off half the time, but you can’t honestly be telling me you have never noticed anything attractive about him?” Jimin asks, nodding in Hoseok’s general direction.

“Honestly, I swear to God, no… no I haven’t… This is fucking awful, I shouldn’t have come here… Why do I let you persuade me into shit like this?” Jeongguk groans, convinced that he is about to walk straight out of the door… until he sees that someone is approaching them. “Wait - oh n-n-no! Jimin! Why the fuck did you do that?!” he rages, gritting his teeth.

As Hoseok walks over to the chair which Jimin and Jeongguk are sat on, all Jeongguk can feel is dread and confusion.

‘Great. Now I have to talk to him.’

‘Fuck you Jimin.’

‘And fuck my mind.’

“You fuckin’ love it ‘Gukkie. You have no idea how good it is to watch you squirm… Oh god, I bet you’re so hard under there, just from cock sucking…”

Jeongguk can only groan once more to Hoseok’s dirty, almost abusive words, and he almost expects for Hoseok to come undone in his mouth there and then. Instead, the elder removes himself from the younger’s weak mouth before he can reach his high, observing the saliva deliciously trickling past Jeongguk’s bottom lip.

Never able to find the words, Hoseok mentally adores the appearance of an already fatigued Jeongguk on his knees beneath him. Jeongguk is his favourite guilty pleasure with his broad appearance and defined body that looks so appetizing when being contrastingly submissive. Hoseok just loves the way he can make Jeongguk into a mess.

Speechless, Jeongguk stares longingly at Hoseok, unsure whether to stand up. In his mind, Hoseok could leave at any moment, still. What if he’s just messing with Jeongguk? What if this is just a thing to get him worked up and confused?

“Well I made my move. ‘Didn’t hear you complaining..”

“Fuck you Hoseok.” Jeongguk grunts, the words that leave his tongue feeling so familiar. He decides to live up to these words, and stumbling to his feet, he points demandingly towards the bed.

“Okay, your move is over.” Hoseok asserts, ignoring Jeongguk’s silent direction, and he pushes Jeongguk down onto the bed.

Passing Jeongguk and Jimin, Hoseok smirks “I see my persuasion skills are as ever superlative…” before continuing through to the kitchen, assumingly for more drinks.

Hoseok’s comment earns an obvious snigger from Jimin and that becomes the sprinkles on the icing on the cake so Jeongguk shuffles and vacates his seat restlessly.

“Dude, where you going to?”

“Bathroom”

“Well hurry, I already feel such a loner” Jimin pouts as Jeongguk storms through one of the living area doors. Jeongguk’s eyes scan the hallway for familiar faces and soon enough, his target is acquired.

If he wasn’t already feeling pushed over the edge, the sight of Hoseok stripping himself of his jacket in the kitchen now definitely is making Jeongguk fall into the mystery pit that is his newfound lust for his… well for the lack of a better word, enemy... My word, is he dancing for that small crowd of people?

Yes, Jeongguk was planning on going to the bathroom, so it’s not like he completely lied to Jimin back in the living room…

Storming past the crowds of people conversing amongst one another, Jeongguk paces closer and closer, heartbeat increasing with each step, a rush of adrenaline hitting him as he grabs onto the wrist of the boy that has been driving him insane all night.

“Hey, what the fuck man…?...” Hoseok questions, struggling to release from Jeongguk’s firm grip. Stumbling down the hallway, still attempting to escape the younger’s hold, Hoseok stutters out variations of that sentence, to which Jeongguk simply replies.

“Just get in” he demands, forcing Hoseok into the empty bathroom stall beneath the stairway. As though possessed, Jeongguk manages to shut and lock the door and push the elder against the wall in under 2 seconds. Before Hoseok can continue to question or argue, he feels something at the last place he expected as Jeongguk’s lips are desperately forced upon his own.

It takes a moment for Hoseok to register just what is happening right now and to be sure this isn’t some weird ass dream. This is real; Jeongguk has just secluded him and made a move... Has he been on the wacky backy again?...

Conflicting thoughts scramble across the elder’s mind. On one hand, this guy’s lips are really soft and this whole scenario is strangely sensual, but on the other hand, he hates Jeongguk and his overly disciplined, cautious personality.

This is a much different side to Jeongguk though. This right here is whimsical, careless… random…

‘Fuck it.’ Hoseok thinks, losing tension beneath Jeongguk and mindlessly returning the kiss. ‘I’ll just pretend I was so wasted I had no idea what I was doing; maybe it’ll make a good story.’

Climbing over Jeongguk on the bed, Hoseok in no way holds back the more angry side of his thoughts. “Seriously Jeongguk, I don’t know why the fuck you have to be like this… You confuse the fuck out of me…”

“Be like what?” Jeongguk devilishly raises an eyebrow, propping himself up slightly on one elbow. “Don’t fucking lie though; you want me so badly right now” he states with certainty as he reaches behind Hoseok’s heated neck to grasp onto a clump of hair and draw him in closer

“I fucking do” Hoseok breathes deeply, his eyes taking in the lustful look that is returned.

“Just like you did back then.”

“Shut up” are the only words that leave Hoseok’s mouth as his mouth comes crashing down hungrily onto Jeongguk.

The sound of a door closing resounds across the whole dorm, causing the two boys to freeze for a moment.

“Shit, what was that?” Hoseok questions, placing a finger over Jeongguk’s lips to hush him.

Pushing aside Hoseok’s hand, Jeongguk smirks and glances at the doorway.

“Probably Yoongi.”

A rapid knocking comes booming from the other side of the door as Jeongguk and Hoseok scramble for their clothes, flustered, their actions quite literally being louder than words as Jeongguk manages to knock over a bin trying to get his leg back through his trousers and Hoseok’s fist taps the hollow wall as he throws his shirt back on.

“Come on! Other people also need to take a piss!” A voice booms, causing Jeongguk to let out a small breath of laughter, and Hoseok can’t help but think he rather likes this side to Jeongguk; a smile is much more attractive on him.

Jeongguk flicks the lock on the door, revealing himself and Hoseok to the queue of impatient people. Nervously coughing, Jeongguk bullshits his way out of this situation, ensuring his words are loud enough for all to hear.

“Well Hoseok, at least you’re feeling better now… I-I-I need to go see Jimin, ‘kay? Have a good night.” he stutters before urgently exiting back to the living area, ignorantly barging past anyone in his way.

Still slouched in the same chair, Jimin props himself up upon seeing his friend re enter the room “Dude, is your stomach okay? You were away for like, half an hour -- what were you doing in there…?...” Jimin questions, to which Jeongguk drops his head to hide his expression of shame. Ducking his head down to get a glance of Jeongguk’s face, Jimin changes the question “...or who were you doing in there?! Oh my God, you did, didn’t you? You and dimples! Jeon Jeongguk!!!”

“Can we just fucking leave, this place is a dive…”

Jimin chuckles at Jeongguk’s apparent shame “Fine… but you do know now if I ever need a favour, I’ll remember this, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, fine, fine, as long as we can leave!” Jeongguk exclaims, tugging at Jimin’s sleeve.

Stepping outside through the back door, the most likely place of escape from the judging crowd, Hoseok searches his pockets for the packet he bought earlier and pulls out the cheap straights. He internally curses himself for even buying them because the temptation is even more real now, and staring at the packet, he is indecisive as whether to open the packet or be a good citizen and pass them on to someone else instead.

Almost unconsciously he finds himself unravelling the film.

Tugging at Jeongguk’s shirt, Hoseok urgently strips Jeongguk carelessly, not giving a shit even if Yoongi, or any one of their house mates, were to enter the room right now. Attacking Jeongguk’s neck once again, he moans at the friction of Jeongguk’s rough jeans against his unclothed erection and his attention travels downwards to unzip the article of clothing that is standing between him and one of the assets of Jeongguk that Hoseok always finds himself coming back for.

Releasing Jeongguk of all lower clothing, Hoseok stares hungrily, glad to be the reason for Jeongguk’s dick to be throbbing and full of anticipation that he will be the reason that pretty thing will come undone in pleasure. No one else is responsible for Jeongguk’s arousal this time. Only Hoseok.

Hoseok strokes at Jeongguk’s sensitive entrance, as though pressing the repeat button on a song because Jeongguk whimpers yet again under the elder’s touch, wanting to use his desperate sounds to give Hoseok a signal that he wants to be all his.

Jeongguk has only ever let Hoseok be dominant over him to this extent. He has picked up that Hoseok needs to have this amount of control to feel good… Typically, one would offer the world to someone they think they are in love with, but Jeongguk and Hoseok aren't emotionally typical people. To Hoseok, Jeongguk delivers his feelings via the way he experiments and compromises in the bedroom, always being sure to remember Hoseok’s likes and dislikes.

Jeongguk whines submissively on purpose. He know it flicks Hoseok’s arousal switch from 1-3000 in just seconds. He knows that when he lets Hoseok have his way, it means they can keep fucking and therefore Jeongguk can continue to have his touch.

Circling around Jeongguk’s rim, Hoseok elicits a range of beautiful sounds from Jeongguk, his ears happily taking in each and every one.

“Mmm…. Ah….. Ohh…. Fuck….”

The younger’s sounds are just too delicious to just watch and listen to, so Hoseok’s lips crash down on Jeongguk’s once more, devouring Jeongguk’s sensual kisses and noises.

“Mmmm….” Jeongguk groans, ready to pull out the one sound he knows drives Hoseok crazy every time. “Oh…. Oppa....” he moans.

Hoseok freezes and backs off immediately.

“I'm sorry, is this…?... Is that a fucking joke Jeongguk??” he questions, clearly pissed off despite being so ravenous for Jeongguk just a moment ago.

“Huh?” Jeongguk responds, confused, as Hoseok climbs off the bed.

At some local fast food chain, Seokjin, Jimin, Yoongi and Jeongguk agreed to grab a bite together before Seokjin’s shift at the cafe. In a newly created group chat, Jimin has decided to have a bit of fun, with Seokjin currently being on the receiving end of his ruthlessness. Despite the various uncertainties that previously lay beneath the surface of the boys’ light-hearted banter and joking, Jimin wastes no time in making sure everyone gets roasted, having been amused for the past 3 quarters of an hour.

“Jimin no! Don’t even post that in the chat!” Seokjin exclaims, reaching across the table in attempt to steal Jimin’s phone as the younger mercilessly giggles whilst typing

“When….you…. re….a….lize….you...are…. Jeon...fucked…. Send!”

“Chiiiim! What if Namjoon sees that?”

“Oh!!!! Seokjin exposed!!!” Jeongguk hollers, taking another bite of his burger as Jimin uncontrollably giggles about the entire situation, clearly entertained at his new found hobby of zooming in on mug shots of the other boys.

“What do you mean ‘exposed’?” Yoongi snorts, picking at the cold fries on the table and pausing from eating to continue “Do you guys even pay attention?”

“True… Awh I’m sorry Seokjinnie…” Jeongguk coos teasingly. “...Sorry if the love of your life sees such an ugly picture of you…”

“Guys! Seriously!” Seokjin whines as the flash on his phone camera blinds his two youngest friends across the table. “Gotcha!” he chirps at Jimin, delighted that he has taken his chance to get even “When….you….want….to….flirt….but...got...no...gaaame….”

“Oh touche ‘Jin! I’m getting there okay?”

“Oh come on Jimin! Your game is slower than a snail on dope… Even Jeongguk and Hoseok do more than you!”

“Implying what?” Jeongguk huffs.

“You don’t honestly think you can fuck him forever and not catch feelings do ya?” Yoongi bluntly questions.

“I knew it. You’re still fucking laughing at me, taking the piss, and now literally right to my fucking face?! That's bold for you Jeongguk…” Hoseok grunts, fastening his trousers hurriedly.

“Hoseok?”

“Don't play fucking dumb with me ‘Guk! Now it all makes sense. One final piece of the jigsaw gets put into place. I even gave you the benefit of the doubt eventually, that you... but now I know…” Hoseok utters, clenching his fist in frustration.

“That I what?!” Jeongguk seethes.

“...I'm just a joke to you aren't I?!” Hoseok piques, the anguish and upset clear in his face.

“What are you rambling on about?!” Jeongguk asks demandingly, sitting himself up to search for his own clothes.

Hoseok turns away, finding it into be the only way to conceal the tears welling up “God I'm so stupid! Of course you were always gonna tell Jimin everything! I mean, compared to me, you're just a fucking kid! It’s all fun and games for you!”

“Oh please Yoongi!” Jeongguk grunts, snapping a picture of him. “When….you….try….to….be….an….ex….pert….on….ev...er...y….thing….but...then….you...for…..get….what….day….it...is”

“Quit avoiding the subject Jeongguk… Especially when I have to live with this crap from the two of you… You know honestly, I never know when to shut my ears while you argue or shut my eyes when you…”

“Fuck!” Seokjin exclaims.

“Yeah, that” Yoongi shrugs, pleased to not need to say it himself.

“No-no-no, I’m not on about that!” Seokjin whines, showing Yoongi the messenger screen.

“Yeah, so? Namjoon saw it; does it matter?”

“That….feeling….when…..da….ddy….sees….your….ugly….mug….shots….” Jeongguk sniggers, apparently having already snook another shot of Seokjin.

“Guys! Please! And why ‘daddy’?!” Seokjin quotes

“Pfft, please. It’s Namjoon” Jeongguk smirks.

“No! I bet he calls him ‘oppa’!” Jimin exclaims, unable to control his laughter.

“Hilarious Jimin…” Seokjin throws back sarcastically “He’s younger than me anyway, so why the fuck…”

“It’s motherfucking Namjoon, I rest my case!” Jimin once again booms, being shushed by Seokjin, creating a great shot for Jimin to snap.

“Ho-ho-hooo!” Jimin chuckles as he looks back at the shot of Seokjin he has just taken. “When…..you…..haaaaave…...to….re….miiind…daaaaa -- no -- oooo…...ppaaaaa….to….be…..quiet…...while…...you’re…..riding…..that…..dick…..”

“Oh no!” Seokjin whines, throwing himself into his arms on the table in shame.

“Hoseok! Fucking explain!”

“Man, I… I can't do this anymore. I'm out of here” Hoseok utters, making a hasty exit out the bedroom

Composing his appearance as well as himself emotionally, Jeongguk rushes out of the room to catch up with Hoseok, with the smallest chance that he could just talk to him.

Upon leaving the room, the only sight and sound that Jeongguk is given is the slamming of the front door of the dorm.

Finally arriving back to the dorm and slumping on the couch, Jeongguk unlocks his phone to catch up on unread messages since being out for lunch with his friends. His attention goes straight to the group chat with an unread message, which he assumes will be one of the guys responding to Jimin’s photography ‘skills’.

Hoseok left the group chat.

part 08 here

3 notes · View notes

far-off-flower-fields · 4 years ago

Text

Don’t mind me just find more random questions to answer to distract me until I’m tired enough to sleep.

How many times each morning do you press the snooze button? I don’t usually have to set alarms these days.

What time of day do you like to shower? Night

When you go out to eat, what sides do your order with your food? Usually no sides because I’m not rich and if I have to pick between a side and a dessert I will get dessert.

What do you spend more money than necessary on? I’m bad with money, toys probably, or clothes. I buy second hand, but I shouldn’t be buying anything that isn’t specifically planned in advance right now since I need to save to move.

What video game or computer game are you best at? I’m really bad at games, so maybe Sims 4 or something. I like games, I play them when I have the energy, I just really suck.

How do you normally come across new music? Spotify, sometimes my Fiance.

What do you keep your keys on? A turtle keyring.

Is your favorite color different than your favorite color to wear? Not really, I wear a lot of pastel colours, and they’re my favourites. Although I also wear neutrals and black if I’m doing a different look since my wardrobe is like 4-in-1 because I’m a million people at once.

Do you buy books or get them from the library? I used to read all the time, I’d go to the library and hire like 7 books and go through a book a day. Now I can’t concentrate so I just don’t read. I have several books in my posession that I need to read though if I ever get better.

What section of the food pyramid do you neglect the most? I say fuck the food pyramid.

Do you check PostSecret weekly? I have no idea what that even is.

What do you use your stovetop for most? Sitting things on. Or pasta. I made hokey-pokey the other month though to use up the last of the syrup someone bought.

Do you notice the impact of the economic recession? Yes, I saw so many posts on Gumtree of people having to give up their pets for financial reasons and it was really heart breaking.

Would you enjoy living somewhere where it's sunny all the time? Absolutely not. The sun gives me headaches and migraines.

What is it that you always seem to lose? My will to live xD Honestly though I lose like everything because I have to keep my entire life in a single room of my parents house rn.

Have you ever broken any bones? One, because I couldn’t handle the thought of going to work. I’m more prone to tendon damage.

What is your winter coat like? Which one? I have a mint green one which is waterproof and fluffy inside, I have a brown duffle coat one that flares out a bit, and I have a grey long coat. I also had to declare bankruptcy.

Do you keep dirty clothes in a hamper, or on the floor? Both, I have a system.

Which decade's music do you like best?: I can’t pick.

Can you focus on studying if there's music on? Yes, as well as I can really focus in general.

In what types of situations do you demand absolute silence? When I have a migraine or sensory overload.

Did you do well at fitness testing in grade school? NO. PE is the only class I failed.

If you had to choose a wardrobe to steal, who's would you pick? No, I have worked hard on mine to get it to the point its at.

If you had to pick one thing to bring back from the 90's, what would it be? Most of that stuff has already come back in one form or another, or never really gone away. Like you can get the toys second hand, furby has been rereleased like 3 times, clothes you can also still get second hand and the styles are pretty easy to copy anyway.

What about the 80's? Same as above.

Do you share any of your music taste with your parents? I share parts of my music taste with pretty much everyone, I have a really varied music taste, there isn’t a single genre I can say that I hate all of, there are ones I’m fairly unfamiliar with but I always loved music so I like a lot of it.

Could your parents tell when you would fake sick? I was sent in whether I was sick or not so there was no point in even trying. Only way I was allowed off was if I literally threw up in front of them which didn’t happen much, or the few occasions where my allergies gave me conjunctivitis.

Do you own more shoes or less shoes than the average person? More.

Do you still have anything from when you were a baby? I have a Quasimodo plushie that I had when I was like 3. My parents always threw everything away or gave it away so I don’t even really have baby pictures, except like one I got from my grandparents place when they died.

Are there any stores that send you e-mail newsletters? A couple, but that’s just from buying things in the past.

Do you think people overuse the word "random"? Now not so much, but back in the 00s and early 10s it was used a lot more.

How often do you floss? Never, my teeth are a bit overcrowded so I can’t fit the floss in without pain and bleeding.

Do you use hairspray much? Never, I used it for a couple of stage shows I was in when I was a lot younger and that was about it.

Who is your favorite painter? I don’t really have one because there are so many, if I’m picking out of just the really famous ones then either Monet or Van Gogh.

Are art museums interesting or boring to you? Interesting

What subject in school do you feel is the least necessary? PE needs significant changes to be at all worth the cost of running it. Once I hit my 20s I found out that there actually are some physical activities that I enjoy and missed out on. I think they should make it more free-form, if the concern really is health then surely letting people find and do the fitness tasks that work for them is better. If I’d been brought into a gym with actual gym equipment and they explained, okay, this does this, and this does this, try things out with a spotter and see what you like and what works for you, I’d have been much better of and have had some degree of physical fitness by now. They could also have offered option modules where instead of forcing everyone to do the same shit they let you pick, then I’d have been able to do yoga and dance and skipped out on the team sports they were pushing that literally lead to so much bullying and injuries because it’s about being competitive so they can send they sport inclined kids off to do competitions and win the school more money for the sports department and it’s a big nasty cycle of, damage some kids in favour of others, and lie to them all while making it compulsory for several years. Sorry this is a big ol’ sore spot with me because it is hugely indicative of many of the issues with many school systems in general, and while kidding on it’s for the youth, is actually just hurting them. FUCK.

When you were a kid, what games did you always play on the playground? I had like two modes, there was the days where people would play with me and we’d mash-up characters from the shows/movies we were watching (mostly charmed, totally spies, and xmen) and play as them in this whole made up world. Other days I’d walk around the tennis court trying to stay on the lines if it was empty or I’d just walk around the school daydreaming.

Do you enjoy power outages or do you get annoyed? I’m scared of the dark so I’m more afraid than annoyed. If I’m in the right situation it can be okay, but I never am because I don’t live with my Fiance and we can never afford candles.

Do you know how to use an ATM? Yes.

How about write a check? No.

Are you in to your heritage much? Sort of, not of my specific family, but Scotland’s cultural history and the like is interesting.

Are you pretty politically correct? I resent that term, it’s like the term “cancelled” where some brat decided to make it into something controversial to be nice, and considerate, and tactful, or to hold others accountable and expect them to hold themselves accountable. These are basic things you should be doing, do you need to use slurs? NO what are you losing by not using them? Nothing. What are you gaining by using them? Nothing. We gain nothing as a society by being intentionally offensive or winding folk up. You’re not thought provoking, we already came to the conclusion that certain things are shit, the next step isn’t to continue with your jokes, it’s to stop that shit and do the right thing to the best of your ability. FFS what does it cost people to just be nice? NOTHING.

What is one fashion trend you'll never understand? Some of the shoes the now are, lumpy and weird? Like they stick out in places I can’t imagine being practical. Also mullets.

What do you wear when you exercise? Ummmm depends what I was wearing immediately beforehand, if it’s fine then I just stick with that since I don’t do anything especially heavy-duty. If it’s not, I just grab some sort of top and shorts or leggings, whatever I put my hand on first honestly. A lot of the time I’m just wearing onesies with little monsters all over and they’ll do the job so I just stay in them.

What is usually the last thing you do before you go to bed? It varies, sometimes I put on some rain sounds or something. The only consistent thing is that I have to go to the loo whether I need to or not, that’s one of those things I assumed literally everyone did but it turns out they don’t and I just held onto the methods that were used to toilet train me as a bub xD If I’m alone I also have a system I have to use to check the doors are locked or I can’t sleep and have to get back up to check, but I don’t have the house to myself that often so...

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rcsonant-blog · 6 years ago

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if i make a metaphor of my body, it’s a desert. one part longing, one part need, the rest withstanding. of course I would prefer to be thirsty for nothing . . .

alone. the word has always shown him more comfort than his own family did. rowan was born to duho and quinn oh, two rather indifferent people, alongside a brother much older than him. a thirteen year age gap separated him and hudson oh, and it was at the ripe age of seven that his nineteen year old brother broke the news to him. “im running away.”

it was a confusing thing to understand, but hudson explained nonetheless. hudson left out the gritty details; the details of years of neglect and the lack of opportunity that their parents had offered him, followed by subtle tears of sorrow that traced his cheeks as he apologized to a clueless rowan for not being able to take him with him. he promised he’d come back once he was financially stable for rowan, but how much weight can a ninenteen year old boys words hold? enough to crush the younger ones heart once he was old enough to understand that his brother wasn’t coming back.

so that was it. with rowans best friend gone, he proceeded to color on the page filled with blues and greens until his parents got home. with the lack of attention served towards him and his brother, his parents failed to realize that hudson was gone until the next day. yet, there were no tears shed, no search parties sent out. sure, they yelled at rowan for a few hours, blamed him for letting hudson leave, but they didn’t care. it was one less mouth to feed, after all.

now here’s the thing. duho and quinn were not suited for parenthood. perhaps duho was before he met quinn, a beautiful girl with a charismatic personality who fell victim to alcohol abuse, and everything rolled downhill from that point. they were unmotivated to hold stable jobs and uninterested in their children. hudson was a young, dumb mistake and thirteen years later rowan was an even bigger one.

the unintentional neglect was left to rest on rowan’s shoulders. he took care of himself; found his own way to school, made his own lunches, bathed and put himself to bed. he grew to be independent on his own and learn quickly what it meant to be an adult before he was even a teenager. some days his parents would forget to grocery shop and he’d be left starving until they did. teachers commented on his fluctuating weight and sunk in eyes, questioning how his at home life was. rowan shrugged, said it was okay. he spared details with lies and indifference.

rowan was a quiet kid. he thought that there was no point in getting close to other people if his brother was going to come back for him anyways. however, his brother never did and rowan hated him for that. he couldn’t understand the logic behind the dishonesty and he felt betrayed by the one person he trusted the most. so he forced himself to move on, concluded that putting too much trust in people was a pointless.

he felt that something was always missing in his life ( cough cough ) but could never pin point what exactly it was. he tried to find it in other people, went through girlfriends and friends like nothing. it was because of his cold personality and indifference towards things that people usually left – they always left. so once he was nineteen, he did the same thing that everyone always did to him.

he left sydney to study in melbourne, completing college there in an attempt to find himself in an unfamiliar place. he wasn’t sure what he wanted to dothough, what interested him and what didn’t. so he aimlessly wondered around campus, taking basic courses with a generalized major until a year later when his now 32 year old brother showed up at his doorstep, clad in a suit with pleading eyes. with excuses littering the space between them, rowan was filled with bitter resentment. he wanted nothing to do with the stranger in front of him. that was, until hudson told him to become a business major; practically begged him right then and there.

hudson went on to explain that he was the director of his own company in sydney and that he wished for rowan to join him ( with the proper schooling, of course ). rowan took a month to settle on the idea, finishing his first year of college before ultimately deciding that it was worth a try. he wasn’t interested in getting to know his brother again, but instead interested in the opportunity that his brother was offering him.

so he did it. he switched to a business major, completed his years of schooling in melbourne before returning to sydney, and was slowly integrated into the company as the ceo. he has no contact with his parents, and even years later has a hard time feeling any connection between his brother. his brother tries to reach out and get to know him, but with rowan’s indifferent and rather cold personality leaving a barrier between the two it always feels out of reach. all rowan is looking for is himself and someone that understands him.

⸻ THE BASICS

name: rowan oh

age: 28

birthday: january 15, 1990

race: korean

gender: cismale

sexuality: heterosexual

relationship status: single

⸻ PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

hair: black

eyes: brown

height: 180 (5′11)

build: fit

distinguishing marks: a birthmark on his left shoulder

common accessories: none

⸻ PERSONAL

profession: ceo

languages: english, very minimal korean

residence: sydney, australia

birthplace: sydney, australia

religion: christian

fears: none

disabilities: none

good traits: patient, disciplined, capable, independent, logical, eager, virtuous, candid, dynamic, attentive, intuitive

bad traits: blase, cold-hearted, critical, detached, stubborn, mysterious, lonely, mischievous, facetious

⸻ TRAITS

extroverted / introverted / in between.

disorganized / organized / in between.

close minded / open-minded / in between.

calm / anxious / in between.

disagreeable / agreeable / in between.

cautious / reckless / in between.

patient / impatient / in between.

outspoken / reserved / in between.

leader / follower / in between.

empathetic / unemphatic / in between.

optimistic / pessimistic / in between.

traditional / modern / in between.

hard-working / lazy / in between.

cultured / un-cultured / in between.

loyal / disloyal / unknown / in between.

faithful / unfaithful / unknown / in between.

⸻ PLACE IN SOCIETY

financial: wealthy / moderate / poor / in poverty

class or caste: upper / middle / working / unsure

education: high school / college / dropped out

criminal record: yes, for major crimes / yes, for minor crimes / no

⸻ BELIEFS

monotheist / polytheist / atheist / agnostic

belief in ghosts or spirits: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

belief in an afterlife: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

belief in reincarnation: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

belief in aliens: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

philosophical: yes / no

⸻ CAPABILITIES

combat skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

literacy skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

artistic skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

technical skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

social skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

⸻ HABITS

drinking alcohol: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

smoking: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

other narcotics: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

medicinal drugs: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

indulgent foods: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

splurge spending: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

gambling: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

⸻ HABITS

nail biting / throat clearing / lying / interrupting / chewing the ends of pens / smoking / swearing / knuckle cracking / thumb sucking / muttering under their breath / talking to themselves / nose picking / binge drinking / oversleeping / snacking between meals / skipping meals / picking at skin / impulse buying / talking with their mouth full / humming or singing to themselves / chewing gum / leg jiggling / foot tapping / sighing / hair twirling / whistling / eye rolling / licking lips / sniffing / squinting / rubbing hands together / jaw clenching / gesturing while talking / putting feet up on tables / tucking hair behind ears / chewing lips / crossing arms over chest / putting hands on hips / rubbing the back or their neck / being late / procrastinating / doodling / shredding paper / peeling off bottle labels / forgetfulness / running hands through hair / overreacting / teeth grinding / nostril flaring / slouching / pacing / drumming fingers / fist clenching / pinching bridge of nose / rubbing temples / rolling shoulders

#intro › characters.#about › rowan.

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darcycrawford · 7 years ago

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BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Darcy Emmeline Crawford

PRONUNCIATION: DAHR-see EM-ə-lien KRAW-fərd ( ˈdɑrsi ˈɛməˌlaɪn ˈkrɔfərd )

MEANING: Darcy means dark or dark one while Emmeline means hardworking

REASONING: Darcy’s mother was a romantic and always liked Pride and Prejudice. She decided to name her daughter Darcy because she loved the character and who really cares about gender norms now a days?

ALIAS: Darc, Emmeline, People tend to prefer ‘bitch’ instead of her name

BIRTH DATE: August 2nd, 1989

AGE: 28

ZODIAC: Leo

GENDER: Female

PRONOUNS: She/Her

SPECIES: Human/Hunter

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: No label

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: No label

NATIONALITY: American

CURRENT LOCATION: Ashbourne, Nova Scotia

LIVING CONDITIONS: A second floor duplex in Ashbourne’s ‘bad’ neighborhood

BACKGROUND

BIRTH PLACE: Fort Worth, Texas

HOMETOWN: Fort Worth, Texas until the age of 6; traveled often and never stayed in the same town for long

SOCIAL CLASS: Low class

EDUCATION LEVEL: B.S. in Chemistry from an unaccredited online university

LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: English; broken Spanish

FATHER: Henry Crawford

MOTHER: Molly Goulding

RELATIONSHIP WITH PARENTS: Darcy hasn’t cared for her father since the day she found out about his betrayal. And she understands that he hasn’t cared about her since the day he left. He’s never tried to contact her or her mother. Although, her relationship with Molly was rough when she was younger, as soon as she was told the truth about the world she started worshiping her mother. Darcy’s mother on the other hand has been trying to get Darcy out of the life. She’s a little more understanding of supernaturals living normal ‘human’ lives and secretly she’s horrified by Darcy’s no-nonsense stance on the subject. They two clash sometimes but Darcy has a difficult time surviving without her guidance.

SIBLING(S): N/A

CHILDREN: N/A

PET(S): None, travelling can be difficult with animals

OTHER IMPORTANT RELATIVES: The Gouldings are a hunting family. Darcy has never met them.

PREVIOUS RELATIONSHIPS: Owen Gillespie [teenage summer fling]; a couple of one night stands here and there; nothing significantly labelled as a relationship

FRIENDS: Landon Hastings , Cristian Vasquez, Sloane Lottes, Lottie Mcfay,

FOES: let’s be honest, most supernaturals that have met her

ARRESTS?: Simple Theft, Aggravated Assault, Disturbing the Peace

PRISON TIME?: Four months with parole

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE & CHARACTERISTICS

FACE CLAIM: Melanie Scrofano

EYE COLOR: Blue

HAIR COLOR: Auburn

HAIR TYPE/STYLE: Long, straight or wavy

GLASSES/CONTACTS: Reading glasses

DOMINANT HAND: Right

HEIGHT: 5′ 8″

BUILD: Ectomorphic but muscular

EXERCISE HABITS: Rigorous morning and night routines that include cardio, strength training, and sparing

SKIN TONE: Fair

TATTOOS: None

SCARS/BIRTHMARKS: Here

PIERCINGS: Not anymore. She mistakenly wore an earring once and it was torn from her ear.

NOTABLE FEATURES: Her personality

USUAL EXPRESSION: A permanent scowl unless she’s with a friend

CLOTHING STYLE: She tends to wear darker clothes because they stainless. She prefers longer sleeves and jeans to add an extra layer of protection. Often she’ll wear a leather jacket for that reason alone. She also has a utility belt packed with essentials when she’s on the hunt but in Ashbourne it’s become a more permanent accessory

JEWELRY: None

ALLERGIES: Shellfish

BODY TEMPERATURE: Within the normal range, sometimes she runs ‘hot’

DIET: Anything that fills her stomach for the time being. She’s not picking and has gotten use to buying meals from restaurants instead of cooking herself.

PHYSICAL AILMENTS: Here

OCCUPATION & INCOME:

PRIMARY SOURCE OF INCOME: Bouncer at The Monastery

SECONDARY SOURCE OF INCOME: Odd jobs on the road, mowing lawns, bartending, pet sitting, waitress painting houses, etc.

CONTENT WITH THEIR JOB (OR LACK THERE OF)?: Yes, she’s a hunter foremost and the Monastery let’s her collect information and release her anger.

PAST JOB (S): Too many to count; some were legitimate, some were covers

SPENDING HABITS: Vodka, beer, and food

MOST VALUABLE POSSESSION: The journals in which she’s kept all of her notes, her weapons, and other hunting tools.

PSYCHOLOGY & PERSONALITY

ELEMENT: Fire

APPROXIMATE IQ: 131

CHARACTER ARCHETYPE: The Hero

STRONGEST CHARACTER TRAITS: Independent, Determined, Adventurous, Brave, Focused

WEAKEST CHARACTER TRAITS: Head-Strong, Vulgar, Rude, Careless, Egotistical

MENTAL CONDITIONS/DISORDERS: None

EMOTIONAL STABILITY: Balancing between stable and unstable depending on the situation

PHOBIA(S): Open water, merfolk

ADDICTION(S)/BAD HABITS: Drinking herself to sleep

OBSESSIONS: Taste testing different brands of vodka, protecting the human race, poking bruises

BIGGEST SECRET: Blames herself for Owen’s death/turning

DRUG USE: Occasionally but never while working

ALCOHOL USE: At least one glass every night, but again never while working

SWEARING?: Her vocabulary is limited to swear words

PRONE TO VIOLENCE?: Very much so

RELIGION: None

HOGWARTS HOUSE: Slytherin

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Good

MANNERISMS

SPEECH STYLE: Fast and hoarse

ACCENT: Slight southern American accent

HABITS: Falling asleep fully clothed

NERVOUS TICKS: An eyebrow twitch when she’s aggravated; drumming her fingers on the table

DRIVES/MOTIVATIONS/: To protect humans from the supernaturals that hunt them and take away their chances at normal lives

GENERAL FEARS: Watches as a creature kills a group of people and not being able to do a thing about it, being turned into something

SENSE OF HUMOR: Dark and sarcastic

CATCHPHRASE(S): "Fuck off, Asshole”

FAVORITES

ANIMAL: Great Pyrenees

BEVERAGE: Vodka

BOOK: The Poisoner’s Handbook by Deborah Blum

COLOR: Teal

FOOD: Bacon Cheese Burger

FLOWER: Venus Fly Trap

GEM: Ruby

HOLIDAY: Christmas

MODE OF TRANSPORTATION: Walking; Car

MOVIE: Pulp Fiction, Blade Runner, Training Day

MUSICAL ARTIST: Eminem

QUOTE/SAYING: “ I decided I was safe. I was strong. I was brave. Nothing could vanquish me. ”

SCENERY: Foggy forest

SCENT: Musky colognes

SPORT: N/A

SPORTS TEAM: N/A

TELEVISION SHOW: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

WEATHER: Autumn

VACATION DESTINATION: Toronto

PAST/FUTURE

WHAT WERE THEY LIKE AS A CHILD?: Darcy was a relatively happy and giddy child until her father left when she was 4. From that age, she became a little colder and sadder. She often threw tantrums and lashed out at her mother believing it was some how her fault. At age 8 when she learned the truth via bed time story, her outlook changed. She regarded her father as a coward and her mother a hero. She became obsessing over supernatural and the evils they create.

GROW UP RICH OR POOR?: When she was younger both parents had jobs and they were building their way up to middle class. They had enough to scrape by but when Darcy’s father left her mother had a hard time keeping up with payments. Eventually, they moved into a RV which lessened the burden. Her mother began hunting and held various jobs. There was always something for Darcy to eat but not much else.

NURTURED OR NEGLECTED?: Both nurtured and neglected. She worships her mother but anyone looking in from the outside would see the woman made some poor choices in regards to Darcy’s safety and well being.

ASPIRATIONS AS A CHILD?: Since the age of 8, she wanted to be a hunter. She can’t remember much before that in terms of occupations.

SMELL THAT REMINDS THEM OF CHILDHOOD: Gasoline. They often found themselves parked at gas stations or refueling as they traveled.

BEST CHILDHOOD MEMORY?: Killing her first vampire at age 10. She wasn’t suppose to follow her mother but did anyways. The only reason she succeeded was because her mother had severely weakened the creature. She struggled to stab the stake into it’s heart and even sprained a wrist. Her mother yelled at her for hours about her carelessness but it was worth it.

WORST CHILDHOOD MEMORY?: Watching the life leave Owen’s eyes. She had dragged him out of the water and attempted to resuscitate him but even though she pounded his chest the water never left his lungs. She was pulled away by her mother from what she thought was his dead body.

OPINIONS ON MARRIAGE?: Not for her unless she finds the perfect hunter husband

WANT KIDS?: She would never want to bring a child into this world

WANT TO GROW OLD?: Sure, it’d be nice but it’s probably not in the cards

WANT TO SETTLE DOWN?: The road is home, she’ll go where the job takes her.

#cursedbloodtask #headcanons

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