#did not know that was a tag. just browsed through. vile vile vile

[hissyfitaffective]

t*rfbreaking is such an insanely evil tag... christ.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling someone that roleplays are a two-way street and refusing to re-engage with them?

Occasionally, if I'm in the mood to write but I don't really know what, I'll browse ship tags on Omegle. Its become synonymous for roleplays, and I've found its (typically) pretty fun.

As with every social thing, there's the odd... Less than pleasant experience. Last night was one such experience. I connected to someone on a ship tag, they sent a prompt, and it was actually a pretty interesting one, so I responded.

It was an AU prompt, but I generally kept my characterisation as close to the character's canon as I could, while still matching it to roughly what someone's personality in that profession and location would be.

(E.g; if the character was a proper old-country style cowboy, or a socially awkward secretary, ect.)

It became very clear, very fast, that the other person had very, very specific ideas about the roleplay, what happens, what my character was supposed to say/do, ect. To the point where (as I later told them) they should've just written fanfic so they had complete control.

Near enough every time I responded, they'd "correct" it or argue against it both in character and in brackets as themselves. For example if I noted something about the background or story of my character, theirs would immediately say "no that's not what happened" or they'd say [hey actually can you change that, it doesn't fit/I don't like it/its not what I envisioned].

After about fifteen minutes of this I got incredibly vexed and decided I was done. I don't mind a roleplay having certain goals/main points/guidelines, but they were literally trying to control every tiny aspect of what I did. So I sent them this:

[I'm sorry, the RP sounded interesting in the prompt you sent, but its rapidly becoming clear you don't actually want a roleplay, you want to be the sole one dictating everything that happens. Honestly I think its best you turn this idea into a fanfic and not a roleplay. It kills off any enjoyment of the roleplay when I have you contradicting every tiny detail I include or dictating what I'm allowed to do or say. I'm not going to sit there waiting for you to approve of everything I intend to say. Thank you for your time, but good night.]

I disconnected, and decided I'd spend another fifteen minutes browsing the tag before I did something else. Well apparently, the other person decided they were going to spend fifteen minutes stalking the tag trying to find me again, spamming every connection with messages ranging from extreme insults and threats to demands I 'speak up again, bitch, I wanna talk' and so forth. After connecting to them for the tenth time, I sent:

[I'm not going to re-engage with you. I said what I did, and frankly, it was a valid statement. If you can't handle the fact that roleplaying means a 50/50 creative allowance with someone else, and that you can't micro-manage or bulldoze every single detail, then you shouldn't roleplay. Frankly, knowing how vile you can be from simple criticism, I'm glad I disconnected. Take a breather and re-evaluate yourself. I'd be embarrassed.]

Well. This morning I logged onto Tumblr and after some browsing, I actually came across them again. Here. By means of a post where they included screenshots of everything and are even going so far as threatening to stalk Tumblr and AO3 to 'match up the writing' so they can find me and presumably say their piece or whatever.

I talked to a friend about it, and surprisingly, they think I'm an asshole. Not for what I said in the first place, but for not re-approaching the other person (through DMs) so they'll stop filling the ship's tag with negative stuff. (They've made 3 posts about it all so far.)

I don't want to do that because it means opening up my private social media to this obviously unhinged individual. I know I can expect to be spammed, sent hate mail, have them try to track down my other socials, ect. I could make an alt account for it, but honestly that's effort I don't see the point in making. If they can't let this go, its not my problem.

AITA? Should I make an alt account just to let them get it out of their system? I don't know how to proceed with this.

What are these acronyms?

[watchathon]

Carmen Sandiego, S2E9: The African Ice Caper

In case you’re finding this post just by browsing the tags I’ve used for this post, this is the Watchathon, a blog where I’m hoping to watch an episode of a TV show every weekday, with a short blog post where I write down my thoughts as I watch. Each new thought starts with a hyphen and a bolded first word.

- Like so. Now that the introductions are over with, here’s my thoughts on The African Ice Caper:

- Good news: Now that Season 3′s out, Netflix has finally got the seasons in the right order!

- I didn’t think that the crew would want to get Carmen out of the hospital, but it makes sense. It’s more than possible that VILE could try doing what Team Carmen would eventually do themselves: Disguising themselves as medical workers and sneaking out Carmen. 

- Ah, finally we check back on Chase Devineaux, and it seems like working at Interpol did him some good after all: He’s making plans, for one thing, and he’s tracking down VILE all on his own.

- You know that things weren’t so good as they seemed when someone’s having nightmares about you. In this case, Carmen having nightmares about Coach Brunt.

- Didn’t think that Player changing his tune about Shadowsan would be acknowledged in the show.

- Glad to see solo Shadowsan in action. I don’t know that it could hold an entire episode, but what we do see here is pretty cool.

- Roundabout’s voice sounds a lot like Professor Maelstrom.

- I like the scene of Zack and Ivy discussing how Carmen’s back in action so soon.

- Carmen’s clearly not made as clean a recovery as it seemed at first.

- Dang, a few months of boring paperwork really changed Devineaux. Guess you gotta learn to think things through when you literally can’t just chase Carmen Sandiego and shout “La femme rouge!” wherever she shows up.

- I like that we’re finally seeing Tigress interact with Zack and Ivy. I don’t think we’ve really seen these two interact with any VILE operatives, except for last episode when the VILE operative was under the impression Ivy was Carmen.

- Nice to see Devineaux and Julia meeting up again, even if it is by accident.

- Or, uh, even if it’s just a dream. With lucky cat statues that meow and exact copies of Carmen’s fedora filling up the cheese aisle of a corner grocery store.

- And clearly Shadowsan recognizes the Chief...

- Seems like there were a few other cover stories Devineaux could’ve used.

- Good to see Carmen and ACME working together, even if it’s not exactly gonna last long. 

- I think this might be the first time we’ve heard one of the Cleaners speak.

- Talk about a cliffhanger. Carmen rocked by a new revelation about her past, left bound and gagged inside a train.

[jcmorgenstern]

"#hey where's the fic where chaotic bisexuals jace and clary are in a relationship with clary's estranged brother's foster mom#literally lease my crops are DYING i NEED cougar lilith i NEED#(mundane AU 20k rated M or E) #im gonna have to write it myself arent i" // perhaps Lilith is beside herself over Jonathan leaving, and this is a chance to feel closer to him through people important to him. perhaps I love this idea.

tags from this post (thank you anon!!! i went a little fucking crazy and wrote this which is entirely unedited.....rip in pieces)

It had been a year and a half since she had seen Jonathan last. He had been hers in all the ways that mattered (but never flesh and blood) until he wasn’t, a stabilizing weight by her side cut loose. Sudden as that, she was in freefall. A prestigious editorship at a major fashion magazine turned to ball and chain, the envied life of a socialite the vanity of a mere woman, a luxurious New York loft to the dreaded empty nest. At her third strong drink in an evening, she could feel the thin coat of dust layering her womb, a mausoleum. Her son and one frivolous argument too many did what scores of small men had tried and failed to do.

On balance, she supposed she ought to proud it took her this long for the bland Promethean cycle of waking-working-talking-eating-sleeping-repeat to wear her down, and ashamed she gave in at all. A good mother, she knew, would never be caught where she is now--standing out in an ill-fitting tinsel dress she wouldn’t have been caught dead in two years ago, avoiding the eyes of men too young for her (beneath her) in favor of one in particular.

I only want to look, she’d told herself as she’d scrabbled at the bottom of her purse (Himalaya Birkin, years out of style, a metaphor dangling in crocodile skin off her arm) for her keys. Just to see. Get close. Watch.

It had been complete coincidence that she’d found out about the art exhibit in the first place. An invite to a wretched student affair from a once-great school grasping for relevance in the cynical age of the internet stuffed in with her morning mail delivery, ordinarily not worth a second more of her attention than it took to sweep it into the trash. The name was what caught her attention, an instinctive flash in the pan--Fairchild.

He didn’t go by Fairchild, of course. He was a man, and why would a man wear anything but the name of another man? At the threshold of adulthood, Jonathan shed the vile name of the woman who had given him up in favor of a ghost of a father. Her own, she realized now, had never been in the running. And so he called himself Morgenstern, an ugly name sealing him off from her like foreign territory. Morgenstern had a terrible finality to it.

She didn’t answer a single email or call the rest of the morning, snapping at any EA foolhardy enough to raise a word against her. By noon, she knew the girl and her boyfriend from smiling model pictures on Instagram, incomplete snippets of life from Facebook and Twitter. The wordless temptation finally had a face and a name and an achingly familiar mane of red hair. Fairchild was the name of his sister by blood, the girl for whom his birth mother had scraped together enough love to keep.

She picked the weaker link first--the blond. Men gave themselves away more easily than women, basking in every oozing ounce of attention. She took his measure in-between smiles and small conversations, observing him over the shoulders of conversational partners she took no interest in. Well-built, handsome, artfully disarranged hair, a James Dean sort of affable. The type girls wished for long after he’d moved on from her entirely. She could see him in the glossy pages of a fashion magazine and allowed herself to hate him, dip the fashionable one syllable of his white-hipster name in poison. Jace.

The second hour she allowed herself closer, indulged in scratching the surface. Uncomfortable in worn jeans and leather jacket surrounded by talk of Bosch, Mondrian, Xiaodong, he was here for his girlfriend, treading water in the art world to lend her a familiar face. He flirted with the girl at the bar more out of obligation than interest, reading off his come here often? lines stiff and atonal. By the time she drifted up beside him at the bar, she had given him enough nuance she could have convinced herself to like him.

“I don’t suppose you could get me one of those?”

It came out easy, like slipping into clothes from another life. Her first job as waitress faking pretty rouged smiles through propositions and comments and ass-pinches, or her first magazine internship weathering the same. He was drinking beer, and she couldn’t stand beer, but men had a peculiar weakness for women who drank their own kinds of drink.

He turned, bemusement turning to something else as she deliberately met his gaze. He was lovely up close, and all in a dizzying rush she felt the barest spark of that indescribable satisfaction she’d been chasing, found the ghost of Jonathan’s angular features in the broader contours of his face. His too-polite smile broke the spell. “I’d love to, but I don’t think my girlfriend would like that very much.”

The waitress smile slipped off. Put him in his place. “It just seems you’re the only one who can get any service around here.”

His smile turned instantly sheepish. “Oh, uh--sorry.” A quick word with the bartender, and soon she had her very own mug of alcoholic piss. He visibly cast about for a line of conversation, and it raised her ire that she couldn’t tell if he did it out of flirtation or pity. “Are you with the gallery?”

“Oh, no. I’m with Poise magazine. We like to browse local shows for rising talent. Keeps us fresh.” She gave a half-flicker of lash at fresh. The cover story was self-indulgent--the answer she gave only mattered to herself. She wasn’t searching for her son where she knew he wouldn’t be found. The flirtation was by rote. “Are you an artist? We’re always doing submission intake.”

It was an old and familiar lie. General licensure was the best any hopeful would get without prior connections.

“Me? No way.” He was warming up to her, rising to her charm like a snake from a basket. How old was he? He couldn’t even be half her age. “Clar--my girlfriend, she’s the artist. I’m here for her.”

For her, not with her. There was a distinction. She cued up the smile she used for interviews. “That’s lovely. What kind of artist?”

“A painter.” For a second, Jace’s expression was almost shy. “She landed the art school gig, but her mom taught her. It’s kind of her last connection to her, you know? Painting keeps her mom alive.”

The enormity of his statement quavered between them like a note from a tuning fork struck on an edge. She felt her expression flicker and melt like wax--Jocelyn was dead. Was it cancer, murder, a hit-and-run? Half-thoughts spooled out in her imagination, part vindictive and part lurid. Did he know? Did he think of her the day he learned she was dead, wish for her to put her arms around him and let him cry into her? She savored the imaginary heat of his short, hitched exhales on her neck, the precious hot droplets of salt falling on her skin.

“Oh god, I’m sorry, I’m an ass,” Jace was babbling. “Did you--have you lost a parent too?”

For a moment, she could have laughed at him. Her father was buried, her mother entombed in a home somewhere conveniently out of mind. With a strange, electric jolt she realized he had assigned her fallen expression to the closest thing at hand, unbiased by that all-encompassing occupation: mother. A mother must have lost a child; a person could lose a parent a lover or a friend. It had been so very long since she’d been seen as anything but.

“Jace! JaceJaceJace--there you are!”

A mess of red-gold curls bounded by her to plant a messy wet kiss to Jace’s cheek. They kissed, young dewy-skinned and unabashed, and she watched with a feeling unlike Jonathan creeping on the edge of her thoughts. Jace broke away first, pulling her back into conversation. “This is, uh, Clary. Clary, this is--” he broke off, embarrassed.

Clary spluttered in the middle of knocking back the last of a sidecar, whipping around to stare at her with something wide-eyed and akin to wonder. “Don’t you--? Don’t you know who she is? Editor at Poise? The Lilith?”

“Not exactly,” Jace admitted.

Clary paid him no mind, cocktail glass immediately moored at the bar. She looked up at her and once she saw past the stars winking in the girl’s eyes, she could see they were the same soft hazel as her brother’s. Clary was drunk, and brimming with it from her ugly artistic blouse to her blunt art-student-lesbian bangs to the untamed curl of her hair. “It’s really you,” she gushed. “I’ve been following your blog forever, and your twitter--I’m being so embarrassing, aren’t I? Can I...can I have a picture?”

Lilith disliked her with a magnetism that pulled the girl in close, letting Clary slip an arm around her waist and hold up a phone too big for her small, delicate-boned hands. In the phone’s screen she could see herself frozen in real time, her red lips lifting in a waxen smile. Next to the peach-fuzz facewash-clean of Clary’s skin, her fashionable makeup and Oscar de la Renta dress looked old and severe, black and gold metals oozing out of her like a snake shedding skin.

“You were my first-ever crush,” Clary was saying with tipsy candor, and with a strange bump Lilith realized Clary was talking to her, not her boyfriend. Her words rushed out in a graceless rush, difficult to make out over the music and wordless chatter drowning her in a dull roar. “I’d spend hours cutting out your photoshoots from magazines, making collages--it drove mom crazy, all those internalized gender roles and whatever. She realized later I just thought you were really hot.”

The full blushing import of Clary’s words hit them all at once and Clary flushed a blotchy pink all the way to the roots of her hair and touched her free hand to her cheek. “Oh my god, I’m fucking drunk.”

Lilith became suddenly aware her hand was still on Clary’s warm waist, trapped under her arm. This was all unscripted, unrehearsed; she felt as flustered as Clary looked, thrown off by the noise and the heat and the alcohol she hadn’t even drank. She was wearing perfume, something cheap and cloying, and in a strange moment Lilith could imagine Clary spread out over a glossy page, slim peachy legs and delicate collarbones bold and daring out from under the heavy drape of a dark dress.

She reached for something cutting to take the girl down to size, but what came out instead was a genteel, “That’s very flattering.”

Clary gave her a pinched little smile in return, the very pink tip of her tongue darting over her bottom lip, and her blush did not abate. Lilith looked to Jace, who was looking between them with something uncertain in his eyes.

A strange, smouldering sensation had risen in her chest, thick and suffocating as a plume of smoke. Her hand did not so much as tremble when she raised a hand to tuck away a stray curl, the color so much lighter when it caught the light. Clary’s face swam before her eyes, raw and pink from crying over her dead mother.

“You’re very sweet,” she said, and there was a husky quality to her voice that only came on with one or two glasses of red wine. Her heart was pounding out a dull, insistent throb rising in time with a painful lump in her throat.

Her phone vibrated in her bag, breaking the spell with a start. She pulled away to relieve the sudden alcoholic flush and dug into her bag with utter disregard for her nails, feeling for the familiar cool rectangle of her phone. When at last she managed to disentangle herself citing creative emergencies needing her immediate attention and a whole host of familiar excuses, it was only then she realized on habit she’d given Clary her card.

The taxi ride back to her apartment was blissfully silent, dark except for the rising crests of light along the near-silent streets. Her own face hovered ghostly in the window, close enough to touch. Her fingertips met glass with a flash of red-gold and her eyes seared with a sudden heat, the ache in her sternum widening.

Her thoughts lingered on him as she greeted the front desk clerk, beside her in physical form in the elevator, hovering at the margins like a melancholy raincloud as she launched into her nighttime routine. Squalane cleanser to remove makeup, wash face before an exfoliant chemical blend, a layer of hydralaunic acid and then niacinamide to hydrate, an retinol under-eye cream to top it all off. The ritual grip of her thoughts relinquished only once she’d folded herself under the covers in her nightclothes, receding as she fell into the uneasy lull of sleep.

This time, the thought of him was mixed with traces of red and gold.

[wererightbyyourside]

50 Questions Tag

Tagged by @supercriminalwolf​ 💕💕💕

1. what takes up too much of your time? it’s the school year, so classes/homework, tv shows... youtube..... two dots........

2. what makes your day better? listening to music, watching a show, or just in general decompressing (these are all due to the fact that I’m super introverted and they let me recharge which always makes me feel better lol)

3. what’s the best thing that happened to you today? I got to play with my dogs!! I’m at home instead of at school for the weekend and since my one dog is now 14 years old any time I can spend with him is the best

4. what fictional place would you like to go? I’m tied between Narnia and Middle Earth 

5. are you good at giving advice? I would say I’m pretty good when I’m serious, but if the situation isn’t serious my first instinct is to always tell my friends to kill whoever is giving them troubles lol

6. do you have any mental illness? luckily no

7. have you ever experienced sleep paralysis? once again, luckily no 

8. what musician inspired you the most? SHINee (such an original answer for a SHINee blog but it’s definitely true); there’s just so much to take inspiration from all of them

9. have you ever fallen in love? I mean I don’t really talk about it much but I’m aro and not interested in dating so... no

10. what’s your dream date? I’d really like to just hang around and watch shitty movies or something

11. what do others notice about you? honestly I don’t really know

12. what is the annoying habit you have? I crack my knuckles and also touch/rub my nose a lot (mostly because of allergies lol) which seems to also annoy people (including myself)

13. do you still talk to you first love? (see above about being aro lol)

14. how many ex’s do you have? none

15. how many songs are on your playlist? in my “current songs” playlist, 51, but that’s because I try to keep it around 50 at all times. In terms of overall music and my other secondary playlists, way way more...

16. what instruments can you play? piano, clarinet, tenor recorder (but like more than just a fourth grader... I was in an ensemble)

17. who do you have the most pictures of? honestly I was just scrolling through my photos to free up space and most of them are scenery from vacations

18. where would you like to go before you die? in a perfect world I would like to go to every country in the world, but in terms of the main places, New Zealand (is this because I’m a Tolkien nerd? you’ll never know...), Japan, SK, China, Hong Kong, etc. 

19. what is your zodiac? cancer

20. do you relate to it? usually not if I’m honest

21. what is happiness to you? this is too deep for midnight... but basically I think it’s being able to see through the bad things happening to you and staying optimistic

22. are you going through anything right now? nothing terrible atm but I mean it’s college so stress is inevitable

23. what’s the worst decision you’ve ever made? taking rock climbing as my exercise credit even though I’m out of shape

24. what’s your favourite store? target or tj maxx. they are both fun to walk around and browse in

25. what’s your opinion on abortion? pro-choice. I’m not one to infringe on other’s lives and choices.

26. do you keep a bucket list? not a formal list? I don’t really think about it much

27. do you have a favorite album at the moment? “Sense or Love” by Hey Say Jump but also the soundtrack for “Bad Guys: Vile City”

28. what do you want for your birthday? money lol it’s always money

29. what are most peoples first impression of you? I mean if I’m not talking to my friends I have a pretty aggressive looking resting face (my license photo looks like a mug shot ‘cause I’m not smiling) so I actually think a lot of people’s first impressions of me aren’t that good lol

30. what age do you seem according to most people according to most people? Almost everyone I meet thinks I’m older than I am... like mid-twenties instead of 19..

31. where do you keep your phone while you’re sleeping? under my pillow

32. what word do you say the most? the phrase “I’m thinking pasta” (if you recognize this phrase, you’re guaranteed a spot on my will)

33. what’s the oldest age you would date? I don’t really have a preference and by that I mean if I were to date I actually would probably be willing to date anyone as long as they were closer to my age than my parents (if I did the math correctly that means I would date anyone younger than 35). But honestly if a 35 year old wanted to date me (19 yo) they probably wouldn’t be the kind of person you’d want to date lol

34. what’s the youngest age you would date? If I was old enough to not have to worry about people younger than me being under the age of consent, l’d probably go up to 3-5 years younger.

35. what job/career do most people say would suit you? even some of my professors tell me to be a teacher... but also I get “editor” a lot and private investigator but that’s only by friends 

36. what’s your favourite music genre? I don’t really have a favorite, but I guess kpop lol and alternative

37. if you could live in any country in the world, where would it be? I think it would be anywhere where Trump isn’t president at the moment

38. what is your current favourite song? Alone - Seungri and Come to Me - Lee Hong Gi (feat. Zuho!)

39. how long have you had this blog for? As an independent blog, a year and a half. But it was a side blog on my old account for like a year or two before that 

40. what are you excited for? rock climbing to be over, Thanksgiving, Christmas, the semester to be over, Trump’s presidency to be over

41. are you a better talker or listener? listener

42. what is the last productive thing you did? I sent an email. I’m on break so I’m not doing anything productive  

43. what do you want for christmas? money. but also I need a new season’s greeting of some sort so I can have a calendar for 2019

44. what class do you get the best grades in? any class that revolves around writing or analyzing literature usually 

45. on a scale from 1-10, how are you feeling right now? 7?

46. what can you see yourself doing in 10 years? trying to figure out my life. probably still in school lol

47. when did you get your first heartbreak? never?

48. at what age do you want to get married? I don’t really want to get married

49. what career did you want to have as a child? vet, author, and pop star (with my friend) (we had a band)

50. what do you crave right now? I’m actually not hungry for once but a black cherry soda sounds pretty good

Tagging: It’s late and I already tagged a bunch of people in stuff earlier so I’m not gonna tag anyone lol. But if you’re reading this and want to answer these questions, I’ve now tagged you so go answer them 💕

[theonlyjelly-iwillput-inmybelly]

Escapade- Chapter Two

A/N: Hi, friends, here’s chapter two! You can read the full fic here on my AO3 (this link will take you to the beginning), or you can read Chapter One here on my Tumblr (this link will take you only to Chapter One). Reblogs are deeply appreciated! 

Please let me know through a comment, reblog, or message if you want to be added to the taglist! Chapter Three is scheduled to be posted this Saturday

Tagging people below the cut

After Roman had shut the door to his room, he took a deep breath and shook his head. The ache in his heart had acutely throbbed when he had turned his back on Virgil. Despite the warm rays of sun that filtered down onto his uniform, he felt a distinct chill around the areas Virgil had touched. He licked his lips, tasting a faint trace of cookie, and sighed. Spreading his shoulders back, he strode off into the direction of his stables.

It had been decided unanimously by all the Sides to keep from Thomas the knowledge that Roman had a horse called Maximus. There was, of course, a reference to Tangled in Roman’s choice of name. Roman found it a little difficult to merely sink into the darker corners of his kingdom, a corner of his room that fell into the darker portion of Thomas’s mind. Whether it was because he was harboring a well hidden fear of that corner of his kingdom, or whether he had too poor of a mental map of the area, Roman loved an excuse to ride his horse just like the stereotypical prince he was.

Maximus was a powerful white steed who stood at a solid fifteen hands high. His coat, mane, and tail were snow white. He was, of course, another child of Roman’s mind, so he had some good qualities unusual to other horses. Roman sensed that the horse possessed a certain level of intelligence abnormal to his equine brethren, and that he was empathetic and brave. This notion was often questioned whenever Maximus was frightened by his own shadow, or walked into posts. Despite his clumsiness, Roman knew Maximus was an intelligent creature.

Roman took the time to explain to Maximus their mission as he readied his gear for the long journey through his kingdom. Maximus always watched him with careful eyes whenever he spoke, his ears pointed forward, and he nickered at all of the right places. However, the horse’s eyes usually strayed to the saddle bags full of supplies for the trip; the horse knew that a number of treats lay within those bags.

Within ten minutes, Roman had stepped up into the saddle, and urged Maximus to a gallop as they headed West into the sunset. The cliche was not lost on Roman, but it also could not be denied that it lent him a great thrill.

As the sun began to set and the familiar terrain began to be cloaked in shadow, Roman became lost in thought. It was easy for him to daydream as he rode a horse. He knew he was an expert horseman, and Maximus was an easy horse to handle. The pounding, repetitive rhythm of the horse’s hooves was conducive to deep thought.

He found himself worrying about the Dragon Witch.

Roman had faced many a foe in his day, but none was ever so difficult to face as that vile serpent. He often came back from battles with her battered, bruised, and recovering from her various charms and spells; all she had were mere scratches. However, the most impressive damage Roman had inflicted on her was blinding her in her right eye.

She, in return, had torn a terrible gash along his back. Fortunately, Roman always carried a Dragon Witch first aid kit, in which he was able to stitch himself up and stop himself from bleeding to death. The wound had taken a while to heal, yet none of the other Sides had seemed to notice his stiffness and unwillingness to take off his shirt, as he often did when he slept. Virgil was the only one who knew of its existence, due to his recent upgrade from ‘friend’ to ‘ lover’.

Roman was slightly apprehensive of his imminent encounter with the Dragon Witch, but something in his gut told him that this would be his last time venturing to the Witch’s lair. The wounds he inflicted on the dragon’s body seemingly could not be healed by magic; as the ruler of this world, Roman had his own version of magic, and he had enchanted his sword so that the wounds it inflicted could not heal.

After a long while of galloping, Roman slowed Maximus down to a swift trot. The horse seemed to protest by a sharp flick of his mane and a tug on his reins; he wanted to keep going. But Roman knew his limits, and resolutely kept him at a trot. Roman focused on the terrain around them; the area was scrubby, with low growing shrubs and and knots of of sage. There were occasional groves of ash trees, and a twitch of movement could be attributed to a rabbit frightened by the powerful hooves of Maximus. A chilly breeze swept across the land. Roman shivered slightly, pressing his arms closer to his sides. A slight twinge in his chest reminded him of how warm Virgil’s embrace had felt just hours before.

He already missed him.

Maximus nickered, turning his head slightly to look at him. Roman smiled softly, once again certain that the horse possessed deep emphatic mindsets. He patted the horse on the neck.

“Thanks, pal- Merlin’s beard! ” Roman said, ending his sentence with a swear and a cry as Maximus stumbled down a shallow bank and into a creek. The horse whinnied with fright, and bucked several times, splashing up sprays of chilly water.

Roman, recovering from his shock quickly, leapt off of Maximus, and with a calm voice and soothing gestures, calmed the stallion back down.

“How about we stop for the night, buddy?” Roman suggested, shivering as he stood in the chilly flow of the creek. Moonlight quivered and quaked on the slight trickle of the water.

Maximus blew into his hand, and under Roman’s lead, walked onto the pebbly banks of the small creek. Roman did a quick inspection of the horse to make sure he had not injured himself in the slight tumble. Satisfied that he was fine, Roman unpacked a picket line from Maximus’s saddle bag as the horse gracefully lowered his neck for a drink. Unhitching and caring for Maximus was a simple task for Roman, so he found his thoughts wandering again. As he curried the sweat from Maximus’s sleek coat, he wondered how the others were doing.

Logan was probably in his room, an arch of notebooks, books, and crumpled papers littering his desk, a pen skittering enthusiastically over notebooks, post-it notes, and graph paper. He would rocket back and forth between his vast desk and his whiteboard on his wheeling stool, working on one of the great mysteries of the universe, enjoying every moment in his weird, nerdy way.

Patton was probably just cleaning up from dinner, washing the dishes and not at all feeling bitter that Logan usually disappeared directly after dinner to work on some idea that had been fed to life by the sustenance. Roman occasionally helped with cleaning, but he too often had a rush of ideas after eating. It was sort of a ritual of Virgil and Patton’s to wash up after dinner. Though Virgil would never admit it, it was their bonding time. The two were probably quietly talking about how cute or dorky (depends upon who you asked) it was that Logan always put his whole soul into his work, or that Roman always worked on his ideas from the bottom of his heart. After cleaning, Patton would probably return to his room, tidy up, and settle down to nostalgize or play on his gameboy.

Virgil, after helping Patton clean, would also return to his room. Depending upon his mood, he would either go straight to bed, or stay up to browse the Internet while listening to music. Roman now knew that he also sometimes wrote little stories or poems, but he had been sworn to secrecy. He would stay up late into the night and early into the morning, naturally being a night owl. Roman alway had to fight hard to stay awake with Virgil as they lay together in the living quarters of Roman’s room. That was one fight he was willing to lose.

Roman blinked as Maximus nuzzled his hand softly, his nostalgic train of thought interrupted. He hadn’t noticed that he had stopped currying until Maximus had licked his hand, the other of which was clinging tightly to the horse’s soft mane.

Roman sighed. “I’m sorry, old friend,” he whispered. “I just...miss him, is all.”

Dejected, Roman packed Maximus’s gear away and scrounged around the surrounding area for wood. He could hear the soft breeze whistling over the stones, and the grinding of Maximus’s teeth as the horse picked and chewed the sweet grass.

Within half an hour, Roman was settled against Maximus’s side, the horse having laid down beside the fire, his ears pricked and alert. Roman was snapping twigs and tossing them into the small flame he had going. The sound of summer crickets and katydids chorused quietly in the air.

A chilly breeze blustered from the west. Roman inhaled deeply, closing his eyes; the scent of the darker corner of Thomas’s mind hit his nose. He faintly smelled the characteristic scent of burning and decay. He shuddered, bringing Patton’s care package up to his face; it smelled of cookies and of the moral side’s sweet caramel and vanilla scent. He smiled, feeling slightly closer to home. Roman rooted around in the package, withdrawing a first aid kit filled with excess gauze, sutures, disinfectant, and morphine syringes (Virgil’s gift), a small, handmade pamphlet on navigation (Logan’s contribution), and two treat apples for Maximus (Patton had a special spot in his heart for the horse).

Roman dug around one last time in the satchel, listening to Maximus making delighted horse noises as he nibbled the apples, and pulled out a bag of Patton’s home baked cookies. They were already opened. Roman smirked as he imagined Virgil unable to resist the urge to steal a cookie even as Roman was saying goodbye. The man never could deny a sweet.

As Roman settled down to read the manual on navigation he had read a hundred times already, as this was not the first time the pamphlet had made its way into the Roman’s care packages, he suddenly felt a chill that was unrelated to the eerie breeze to the west. Even though Maximus’s living warmth was keeping his shoulders and back warm, and his feet were warm in the heat of the flames, a distinct chill roamed his midsection.

Roman closed his eyes and listened intently; all of the sides were deeply connected, and they could feel one another’s presence if they listened hard enough. It was a simple heartbeat that they heard. Roman was listening for Virgil’s.

Virgil always had a quick heart rate. This was hardly surprising, as he was the literal embodiment of anxiety. But as Roman focused, he noticed that Virgil’s heart was pounding unnaturally fast, and that it occasionally skipped a beat. Roman knew at once what this meant; Virgil was having an anxiety attack.

Hot guilt and shame washed over the prince as he curled closer to Maximus. He wished he could be there to comfort his boyfriend, but all he could do was listen to his heart. So he did the next best thing; he took deep breaths to steady his own heart, and sent out an aura of reassuring vibes, hoping that the anxious side would listen. If the sides listened hard enough, or if one of them was feeling something particularly strongly, they could feel what the others were feeling.

Soon, Maximus began to grow restless. He whickered quietly, licking Roman’s ear to gain his attention. The prince turned, and saw Maximus nudging the care package.

“No more apples, Max,” Roman said, taking the bag and turning it upside down to demonstrate its emptiness. To his surprise, a small, plump book tumbled out, along with a scroll of hastily torn notebook paper tied with a strip of fabric.

Roman raised an eyebrow at Maximus, who immediately lost interest in everything Roman was doing and contented himself by watching the stream go by, and snatched up the letter before it was lost to the breeze.

It was tied closed with a long strip of fabric. In the dark of night, Roman could not read the note nor see the fabric or the book, so he leaned forward to the light of the flames.

The scroll was tied shut with a thin strand of purple plaid.

Roman tore it open at once. He recognized Virgil’s untidy scrawl: Here’s some better reading material, because Logan has no taste- V.

Roman, grinning like an idiot, picked up the book and saw that it was his favorite; a volume containing the tale of King Arthur and his fellow knights on the search for the Holy Grail. Virgil must have snuck it in when he was stealing a cookie.

Setting the book aside, Roman tenderly tied the strip of purple plaid around his wrist. A lover’s favour to their knight. Suddenly, he felt a distinct warmth spread through his chest. He focused back again on Virgil, sending all of his gratitude and positive vibes. To his relief, he could feel a steady heartbeat and happy yet aching aura from Virgil. Roman sighed, patted Maximus on the nose, and curled back up to read.

The breeze continued to blow as Roman read, and despite the token on his wrist and the steady heartbeat he heard suggesting that Virgil was sleeping, he became achingly more aware that the space beside him was so, so empty.

Taglist:

@celiawhatsherlastname @monikastec @jordandobbertin @greymane902​ @lostgirlggwen @kittenvirgil @iamahumanwaitnothatsalie

[fair-fae]

If you browse the Annexious tag here on tumblr, you can find a lot of stories about what he has done to people told firsthand or by their friends, some with evidence like screenshots or voice recordings, but the summary is, he manipulates women into sexual acts with him and treats his ‘conquests’ like trophies, gaslights them when they try to speak out, uses his friends/followers as shields and attack dogs, and harasses anyone who RP’s in a way he does not approve of (despite his own RP being far from perfect). After realizing our old Skype logs still exist, I read through them tonight and now I’m feeling kinda sick and very pissed, so for the sake of venting, I’ll explain what happened to me. I made a lot of mistakes, and a lot of what happened to me was my own fault, but that’s precisely the kind of people he tries to target, because they are easy to prey on and in a difficult position to speak out or not take all the blame onto themselves. I was 19, brand new to my very first MMO that had just launched, and not in a good place IRL. I had no experience in the MMORP community and no previous ties to it, no tumblr or anything, so I had no idea who he was. I was a dangerously patient, polite, and forgiving person at the time.

I’ll put everything under the cut for length and sensitive content (OOC sexual harassment, IC noncon/dubcon).

Not long after I’d started playing TERA, he contacted me trying to arrange an IC alliance between our RP guilds. We were newly formed, and not really fleshed out, had only just put our info out there, so I was surprised by the offer. I tried to explain to him that we were still hashing things out, that I was just the co-lead, that we’d need to work out the IC details and it would have to be approved by my boyfriend’s character since he led the guild IC. Despite it, he continued to press me for an answer then and there, and I eventually satisfied him with a vague, “sure, we’ll see” so he would back off (a conversation I soon saw play out almost identically IC between his character and a character played by a friend of mine regarding a guild they were officer in). He then immediately asked where I was in game and brought his character to meet mine. It was a fairly normal RP scene of just meeting and exchanging pleasantries and introductions, but afterwards, he asked me OOC what my boundaries were as far as ERP, which I found odd since there was no insinuation of anything romantic/sexual about the encounter. I told him that I didn’t ERP, and he pressed me for details why and what I “considered” to be ERP. I answered, he seemed satisfied and claimed to respect my boundaries and that he would abide by them. He invited me to hang around his guild. I went to one of their IC meetings, and on the way there he messaged me telling me not to be “intimidated” by their size. I’d already pegged him as pretty arrogant at that point and thought he was talking shit, but I was taken aback by the amount of people there when I arrived. Since then I am sure some of my own FC gatherings would have dwarfed it, but it was my first RP event in an MMO, and it was an impressive amount of people for a single guild in such a small RP community. I didn’t know many people in the game and a few people from his guild were very friendly to me, so they became my social circle of sorts, with him in the middle, presumably gluing it together. He talked up the importance of himself and his guild to me, convinced me they were a pillar of the RP community, that he was beloved and people would do whatever he wanted, that he could send his guild after anyone who attacked him. I didn’t see the red flags at first, so I proceeded with the RP and whatever turns it took. The character I played was a power-hungry manipulator, so of course she was interested in taking advantage of his character, a wealthy “prince” who led a large group of soldiers and was bent on becoming the leader of an area and logically would have had a lot of martial and political power. She set about “seducing” him, but since the character is far from promiscuous, I use that term pretty loosely. No progress was made toward the guild alliance that led us to RP in the first place, and I’m fairly certain now that was just a ploy to meet my character. He metagamed his character learning my character’s deep, dark secret, but I brushed it off at first, until his character confronted mine and demanded she strip to prove she wasn’t dangerous or he would kill/arrest her (I will note his character was nearly twice the size of mine and he would frequently describe how big/powerful/strong his character was). She complied, and he basically emoted his character getting aroused and thinking she was some vile whore for “seducing” him like that by taking off her clothes when commanded to with threats. It was uncomfortable, but I wrote it all off as IC, just the character he was playing. He began to try to press me into ERP OOC despite my resistance, frequently bringing it up, asking why I wouldn’t, and “jokingly” whining when I declined. It wasn’t long before he wanted to RP again, and his character cornered mine in some remote part of the map, again pulling the “grr how dare you make me horny you whore you have to let me bang you now” routine. My character refused, so he instead offered to use his power to get her whatever she pleased if she would be his “mistress” and essentially let him fuck her how/when/wherever he wanted.  She refused again, and his character opted for some thinly veiled threats of blackmail and murder/arrest again, talking about how he could reveal her secret, what the authorities would do or what his guild could do to her if he sent them after her, talking about how strong he was and how easily he could overpower her, etc. She gave in but was visibly and obviously reluctant, unhappy, and uninterested. He began to go into what I had already told him I considered to be ERP, but I honestly just wanted to end the scene with minimal fuss, so I stupidly went with it. What followed was probably the worst and most uncomfortable ERP of my RP career (and mind you I haven’t ERPed much, but a good chunk of it has been pretty unpleasant). His character basically treated mine like a blow-up doll, tossing and ordering her around, emoting how rough/painful it was, how his character didn’t care for her comfort or pleasure, how there was no love/care involved, etc. (and also for whatever reason he took the liberty of deciding what my character’s pubic hair was like himself??). I have never RPed anything remotely of that variety before without my RP partner asking my OOC consent first and repeatedly checking in on my comfort, but all I got were messages about how hot my character was and requests to go into a Skype call. I wrapped up the scene ASAP, and very quickly decided I wanted to distance my character from his and avoid RPing with him again. Luckily, I found a pretty convenient and foolproof out for my character without having to retcon anything or endure his character’s wrath, but I didn’t want to cause problems with him OOC to avoid drama and potentially being cut off from his guild which at that point housed some good friends and RP buddies of mine, so I continued to associate with him OOC, if only when he messaged me. He acted like our RP never happened, continuing to go on about how his character was a shy and awkward “virgin” and “lawful good” despite his character having blackmailed and intimidated mine into reluctant sex, and I felt relieved in my decision to end the IC relations. But remaining cordial OOC became difficult to manage, because after the ERP, his OOC behavior changed drastically. He would constantly compliment me or my character on physical appearance. He flirted with me despite knowing I was in a serious, longterm, monogamous relationship, stated he had a crush on me, and would make comments about how he wished he’d met me “five years earlier” (before I met my boyfriend). He pressed me into getting onto cam with him despite my discomfort, and at one point in the Skype logs (despite wanting to cam frequently he would almost always only talk through text) he even noted how uncomfortable I looked and commanded me to relax instead of offering to end the Skype call. After making me promise not to get angry, he sent me a long declaration of his feelings for me (mostly just things about me he found sexually pleasing, or things he wanted to do with me sexually) and demanded I read it and respond while on cam with him so he could see my expression. When I thanked him for the flattery and politely declined, reminded him I was taken and uninterested and that it made me uncomfortable, he simply told me that he didn’t need reciprocation to feel the way he felt or express those feelings. He asked me if I thought he was sexually attractive and interrogated me if I gave vague answers, asked my bra size, repeatedly requested I grope my own breasts or show them to him on cam, and asked me to turn around and show him my legs and shake my ass for him, asked me to blow him “passionate kisses.” He told me he was staring at my breasts, and made sexual comments about my body when I would do something innocuous like shift positions or stand up. He asked me to LARP my characters trying to “seduce” his on cam. He wanted to do non-canon, AU type RP on Skype where my character was still available (she had moved on and found a real lover at this point). I told him if we did RP, there would be no ERP, and he once more “jokingly” whined and called me rude and demanded to know why. I told him my character wouldn’t be interested in sex like that again, and he tried to insist that my character was a “horny slut” and “crazy and over-emotional” despite me--at least I hope--never portraying her that way and describing her as everything the opposite. He continued to convey his delusional perspective of how their dynamic was so “fun” because of  how “inexperienced and awkward” his character was, how my character was some evil temptress whore, how we both knew that the ERP “was more than just sex” to him, when he had all but raped my character. When I wouldn’t budge, he tried to set one of his alts up with one of my alts instead. These advances continued on and on, the same things repeatedly. I had seen what happens when women reject men--even experienced it myself many times--and I was hesitant to outright give a strong “no” to anything for fear I might lose all my friends in his guild or face some sort of harassment. But I politely declined, I tried to give vague answers, I did my best to change the subject, I constantly brought up my boyfriend, sometimes I even got passive aggressive and snippy. None of it dissuaded him. He kept pushing and pushing despite my refusals and my obvious discomfort, asking me the same things over and over despite me already refusing numerous times in hopes that I would finally break down and agree like I foolishly had with the ERP. I know now I did a lot of it to myself. I should have been sterner. I should have put my comfort and happiness before the friendship of anyone who would turn against me over such a thing. I should have told him to fuck off and blocked him if I had to. But I was young, and sad, and insecure, and he had convinced me of his importance and belovedness and influence in the community and I didn’t have the knowledge to know it was mostly bullshit.  His guild turned against him, left and formed their own guild without him. He became pretty reclusive after that, and I had less reason to put up with him anymore. We had stopped talking almost entirely save for him occasionally popping up to ask me if I was still in a relationship OOC, or try to manipulate my character into sleeping with his again IC with some negging about how no one would ever love her and they deserved each other, or to ask me to show him my breasts for the hundredth time which was the final straw when I realized just how shitty he was and how I wanted nothing to do with him again. Between his random reappearances, I began to meet female players who told me their own stories disgustingly similar to mine. So that’s my story. In the end, I am lucky. My experience was not as bad as many women who have been his targets, if only because of my lack of willingness to indulge him in such things, even if I wasn’t as stern as I should have been. He has masturbated with unwilling participants in voice chat, convinced some women to cheat on their S.O.’s, so in the end, I had it easy, which may be the worst part to stomach. I am not the person that I was then. I have more wisdom and more confidence. To people like me now, he is harmless and little more than a nuisance. But to people like I was then and the women who had it even worse than I did, he is toxic and revolting. I am a smarter person for what happened and because of it I’ve met some amazing people like @its-the-val-pal, but in the end I am furious I was treated with such disrespect and even more angry with myself for allowing it to happen. He took advantage of a young person who was reluctant to hurt his feelings, hesitant to make enemies, and scared to lose friends and treated me like a slab of meat and a conquest to be won, and used my RP and the character I had poured so much thought and love into as a means to that end.

[girlwsoftsound]

Guardian Angels || George Daniel /Adam Hann Oneshot

Word Count: 1,835 Warning: Mentions of self harm.  Summary: Words can take their toll. Luckily, you have two friends Author’s Note: This was a tricky prompt to handle, mostly because of the subject but also because I’ve never written an imagine with two of the boys being the main characters opposite the reader. But, I put the utmost care into writing this, and I hope I did it justice. Please feel free to send more requests here.

Social Media had a love-hate relationship with you.

On the one hand, you loved how you could seemingly create your own persona on it. You loved how you could share memories and be able to look back at them long after the excitement fades. Old concerts, family gatherings, and even simple happy days all stayed stored for you to reminisce about at any given time. You also loved how you could talk to people, especially when they were far away from you. Especially when they were the boys from The 1975, who you had come to befriend over the years.

Usually, you could only see the boys during spur of the moment concert meetups, as your schedule was hectic and theirs took them all over the place. Often you found yourself wondering how the friendship even worked. It did though, and it grew immensely. You became such a good friend that, during the summer in the one time you were able to make it out to more than one concert in a row, the boys let you tag along with them on the tour bus. It was a nightmare for their management, but you were thrilled. You loved the boys. Getting to hang out with them was like a dream.

Dreams, much like social media sites, have their downsides. The one downside for you that seemed to impact both was the matter of dealing with fans. Sure, lot of the fans of the boys when they found out about you asked the normal questions -  “Who are you?” “Are you dating any of them?” “Why are you on tour with them?”. You were fine with answering those. They were easy, and you thought it was fun to be able to interact with those fans. What you did not enjoy was the harassment that every now and then would show its ugly head.

You knew not to listen to it. Everyone says to ignore trolls. They aren’t worth your time. They only cause trouble. But, you still see them, and seeing can lead to partially believing them. Rambles about how you are using the boys, how they are only keeping you around as a groupie, how they wouldn’t care if you dropped off the face of the Earth...they all were hard to handle. They got to you, even though you knew they were crap. Some nights were easier to brush off than others. The nights you spent with the boys usually were these, because they always distracted you and knew exactly how to cheer you up when you were feeling down.

One night along your tour however stood as a lone exception to this. It started off like any other day touring with the boys. Time was spent out and about in the city during the day, and at night the boys went on stage to perform. You followed at their side as they explored a local coffee shop, browsed the Whole Foods isles, and met fans along the way. At night after the concert, when all of you had made it onto the tour bus once again and the bus fell relatively dark with the night, you had been looking forward to tweeting out pictures of the band like you always did, and maybe retweeting any cute fan pictures found along the way. That’s when you saw it.

“@Y/H: What a user. You think you’re cute posing with them but you’re really pathetic.”

Sitting with the vile words was a picture stolen from an actual fan of the group of you. You felt your stomach drop. You hated when this happened. The thing was, it was not the only picture of the night it happened on. Multiple messages were sent your way complaining about you, about how you just had to park yourself between Adam and George so that you couldn’t be cropped out, about how you needed to quit acting like anyone cared to see you in a photo. It was all too much. You felt sick. Sliding out of your bunk, you jogged into the bus bathroom and locked yourself away inside. You sat on the toilet and watched as more words were thrown your way. Some people came to your defense, but all you could see were those who weren’t, those who began spreading lies about you to justify their hatred of you.

It built up something inside you, this pit of guilt that you felt trapped in just by existing on the bus with the boys. You were so caught up that you found yourself crying, sobbing even, uncontrollably. In your lack of feeling and emptiness, you decided to resort to something you had only resorted to when you were at your darkest. No one would care. Why would they?

But then, you hear a knock, a soft and barely audible one, and you hear Adam’s gentle voice asking if you are alright. He sounds worried, you can tell. It doesn’t stop you from doing what you are doing, but you feel a new type of guilt set in. You did not want Adam to see you like this. Then another knock, this time followed by George’s deep and comforting voice, letting you know that they are there for you. Crying, you find yourself at a new state of trapped as well. You wanted to continue to cope the way you were coping, but doing so would only upset the boys more. You felt defeated in every sense of the word. Collapsing on the ground, you curled into yourself and sobbed, the blade falling against the cool tile. It took a good ten minutes of straight crying before you found the strength to reach up and unlock the door.

Adam and George must have sat outside the door, for they opened it the instant they heard the click come from the handle. What they saw broke their hearts. There you sat, makeup running, eyes bloodshot, little sobs hitting you with every breath, and clean red streaks diverting into your arm. It stunned them to see. But, they cared about you more than the devastating nature of your state. George, after politely asking you in a far-too-lovely murmur if he could, picked you up and sat you on the counter of the sink. He sent Adam to go grab a first-aid kit. When he returned, George grabbed what he needed and disinfected the wounds, before delicately bandaging and hiding away what damage you had done to your skin. You felt a soft kiss get pressed to your forehead after this, and looked up to see George staring at you with some mixture of worry and love. Your own shattered heart broke even more at the sight.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispered, coming out more strangled than he intended. Adam stepped up and rubbed your back, his beautiful blue-green eyes catching yours.

“Do you want to talk about it, {Y/N}?”

Biting your lip, you looked between the two boys, and then cast your eyes down at your phone which had fallen to the ground. Adam followed you and reached for it. Upon opening it, he came face-to-face with the words you had been reading before it all became too much. He scrolled for another few moments before handing it to George to read himself. You felt like crying more when you saw George’s face crumble into a mixture of confusion and anger.

“I-I’m s-sorry-”

“No,” George said, setting your phone down, “there’s no need for you to apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong, okay?”

“But-”

“Don’t listen to what you read,” Adam spoke, reaching to take your hand into his. “Dear, you’re our best friend. Truly. If we did not want you here, if we did not enjoy your company, if we did not love you to no end, we would have never brought you along with us.”

“Adam’s right,” George replied, wiping away a few of your tears. “We love you so much, {Y/N}. All of us do. No one could ever, and I mean ever, change our minds about that. Especially those people online.”

“I just feel so weak-”

“You are not weak,” Adam said, squeezing your hand. “They are the weak ones for saying vile enough things to make you feel as if what you did was the only resort.”

“Love if this ever happens again,” George whispered with a sigh, “please just...know we are here for you, okay? If you ever have any question, any doubt of how we feel about you or of your place as our friend...we are here.”

“You don’t have to live in the darkness they are trying to create for you,” Adam added. “And if you find yourself scared or trapped in it, please do not think you have to go through it alone, okay? We are here for you. We love you.”

Before you knew it, you were being hugged by both of the boys, their arms holding you close and making you really feel the love they spoke about. It made you cry more, but these tears were not the cruelly sad ones from earlier. These ones were happier, comforted. The kind of tears you get when you know you have support. You never wanted to leave their arms.

“I love you guys.”

“We love you too,” George softly replied. “We always will.”

As the boys pulled back, Adam turned to look at the door. “Matty and Ross are asleep, so how about the three of us create a pillow fort a bit away from them and watch a movie together to get your mind off of this? You can pick which one, {Y/N}.”

You wiped your eyes. “C-Can we watch Aladdin? It always makes me smile.”

George grinned and once again kissed your forehead. “Anything for you, love. C’mon, I’m sure we can make a fantastic fort.”

And that you all did. Using your comforter and pillows, along with some of their own, you all managed to create in the walkway a fantastic pillow fort. It was just wide enough that you could curl up and lay down. The boys threw in extra pillows and Adam’s blanket to use to snuggle into. You were sat between them, and given the laptop to watch the movie on. The boys said on either side of you protectively. Adam held your hand, and George kept his arm around you so that you could snuggle into him or rest on him if you found yourself needing to. Sure enough, after a bit of laughter and smiles from the movie, you felt the need. Curling into him, your eyes eventually fluttered shut. Adam smiled at George as you dozed off.

“Think she’ll be okay?”

Gazing down at your sleeping figure, George sighed. “I hope so. If not, I’m pretty content with watching over her until she gets there.”

Adam nodded. “Could not say it better myself.”

George softly rubbed your shoulder with his hand. “You’re so loved, {Y/N}.”

“And you will be,” Adam replied. “Always.”

[deforest]

i was watching joan videos and in the comments people were being so vile about her bc of mommie dearest, calling her a narcissistic etc. to cheer me up can you provide some stories of joan being the kind and inspirational woman that we know her to be x

of course, babe. that’s why i live and breathe. 

you may be more satisfied by browsing my slapdash little tag of questions i’ve received in the past about Joan--most of my responses are fortified with the content you might be looking for. many of them have links that lead to other posts i’ve made, too. and it’s out of pure laziness that i direct you there, so i do apologize for that mess. 

but as a brief recap:

first and foremost, let’s never forget Joan’s role as a philanthropist. her charitable acts–which would remain mostly anonymous throughout her life and many career phases, mind ya–date back to the 1920s, before she was ever even close to her ultimate peak of fame. this Vanity Fair article from a few years back quotes George Cukor about one particular example of her alms ‘n’ altruism:

George Cukor informed me about Crawford’s secret charity. He said it was “something she had done for many people over the years, and some of those people lived good lives, which they owed to Joan. They might not have lived at all if not for her, but she didn’t want even the people she did it for to ever know.

“In 1926 she had gone to a young doctor, William Branch, for some ailment or other, and she was thrilled with him. He had the kind of dedication to his work that she had to hers. He was also very fair and said, ‘I’ll just charge you whatever you think you can afford to pay, because you’re a young actress and can’t afford very much now.’ And she said, ‘But you’re a young doctor starting out, and you must need the money.’ Joan had decided very early that she wanted to share her good fortune with others, and she had this idea, which she couldn’t afford then, but she was certain she was going to be able to afford.

“She said, ‘Sometime soon, I’m going to be earning more money than I need, and I would like to help people. I work with people who make the movies, the ones who have all of those little jobs without which there couldn’t be movies. They are so important, and they do such wonderful work. When they get sick and need medical help, some of them don’t have the financial means they need, so I want to see that they have the help they deserve. I want to pay for a room in the hospital and other costs.’ Dr. Branch said he would work free. Later, as she could afford it, Joan extended the gift to two rooms.

“They did this for many years, and Joan was always resolute, determined that the few people who knew should never tell anyone,” continued Cukor. “I’m only telling you now because Joan is gone, and I’m interpreting my promise as lasting for her lifetime. That seems fair. Besides, I think people should know what kind of person Joan was—an extraordinarily fine person.”

and this LA Times article describing her charitable nature is well, well worth a read.

we must also recall that Joan not only gifted everyone who worked on the sets of each of her movies–and lavishly, i might add, for everyone from the lighting crew to the grips–but she had genuine demonstrative concern for their well-being as people. when a member of the crew was injured in one memorable instance, Joan paid for all of his medical bills and called to the hospital frequently to check on his condition.

in her will, she left the majority of her money to her favorite charities. 

and when Carole Lombard died suddenly, Joan arranged to take the role of what was to have been Carole’s next film, They All Kissed the Bride, and she donated her ENTIRE salary–$112,500 in 1942, which, adjusted for inflation, equates to about $1,700,000 in 2017–from that film to the Red Cross in Carole’s name. i’m no expert, but that’s a lot of fucking money to give up entirely, especially when she was on the outs with MGM and was a new mother, to boot. 

she was an extremely active force in children’s funds and children’s hospitals, making massive donations every year in the form of presents and toys, as you’ll read in some of my replies to asks from the past. Christina conveniently fails to acknowledge any of that–like, ever. instead, she’s chosen to complain about having to give up half of her heaps of Christmas presents to orphaned children. (cry me a fuckin river, man!) 

another few interesting tidbits about her involvements that never seemed to have made it out of the newspaper archives over the years

oh, also worth mentioning that even though Joan’s family was abusive throughout her childhood, after she Made It in Hollywood, she wholly provided for her (awful!!!! tormenting!!!!! hateful!!!!) brother Hal and for her mother, and they both lived off of her from that point on. she even pulled the necessary strings to get jobs at MGM for Hal even though he was a living trainwreck who squandered every opportunity ever given him and humiliated her to no end.

and, in that tag i linked you to, you’ll read about how she lent a hand to buddy Barbara Stanwyck when Stany was in a pickle re: her abusive husband at the time. 

it just goes on and on and on. i recommend perusing through some of the articles that have been documented on this site, which have been extremely helpful to me over the years in seeking to learn the REAL Joan, as opposed to the made-up one that made Christina all that money, and which so many other stars and people over time have profited off of in public scorning. this article in particular is one of my faves

also, while you’re there, do check out her letters page! most famous about our Joanie is her relationship with her fans, which is still so singular and just plain unsurpassed in Hollywood star history. 

and if i remember correctly there are a few more tidbits about Joan i think in my ~hollywords tag. 

[ageofwrathrpg]

Name: Nikolai ‘Melnyk’ Romanovich Melnyk Age:  23 Ability: Hydrokinesis Faction: LESYAS as an ASSASSIN IN TRAINING Faceclaim: Ezra Miller Availability: OPEN

THE STORY || CW: Death, Drowning

Nikolai and xis sister, Sonia, never knew their mother, but if the stories were true, it was probably better that way. Their adopted father, Roman, would tell them his version of the truth, of a poor woman with not enough money to love the two of them. He didn’t tell them the orphanage’s truth, of a haggard woman with bony fingers and yellow teeth, who spoke in flustered verses about her Rostek pursuers and thrust Nikolai and Sonia into the arms of an employee. They were mere infants then, with identical shocks of raven-colored hair, and under their father’s kind guidance, they would grow into very different children. At five years old, Nikolai would have trouble sitting still, trouble controlling xis thoughts, and staying focused, and functioning properly. At the same time, Sonia was very good at these things. Although her health was weak – in part due to Russia’s bitter winters, and in part due to her undiagnosed asplenia – she loved Nikolai with the patience of a monument and the courage of a lion; xis definition of ‘strength’ began with the word: Sonia. Every now and then, she would sit Nikolai down by the mile-long lake in their father’s backyard and convince xim that they were sat before their very own ocean. In secret, she would show xim her water tricks – the ones she learned through months of practice. Xe promised not to tell Roman, and in return, Sonia would make the water dance in a concentric ballet, just for xim.

On the eve of their seventh birthday, Nikolai’s world jolted upside down. This winter was cold, much colder than a typical Moscow winter, and Sonia fell ill with pneumonia. She should have recovered; their father said she would, so they celebrated their birthdays in Sonia’s bedroom. As time passed though, she did not improve. She got worse, much worse, until it was all that Nikolai could do to bunch xis hands into fists and try to unmake the world.

When Sonia died, the knot in Nikolai’s chest unraveled into a complete breakdown. Xe couldn’t speak without tripping over xis tongue, couldn’t sleep without waking in cold sweats, and couldn’t cry without dissolving into a trembling wreck. To help, Roman would take Nikolai for walks. They would tread through stiffened snow with their hands twisted together and their breaths coming out in fogged clouds. ‘Round and ‘round the circumference of the lake, Nikolai would toe the border between snow and ice, careful not to slip, but not careful enough. Two weeks after Sonia died, Nikolai’s boot came down on slick patch of lichen, and when xe fell, xe fell through Roman’s arms, through the thin ice and into the depths of Sonia’s ocean. Nikolai flailed and twisted in a futile attempt to breach the surface, to move, to anything. Xe felt ximself sink instead, away from xis father’s panicked shouts and toward the milky silt on the bottom of the lake. When the spasms in xis chest forced xim to inhale, Nikolai found that Sonia and ximself weren’t so different after all. Water flooded xis lungs in painless breaths. When xe forced the waves to solidify beneath xis feet, to bring xim up into the winter air, into xis father’s waiting arms, Nikolai was undone. Roman dried xis tears and told xim softly, reassuringly, that everything would be alright, that he still adored xim, that he would keep xim safe. Roman was entirely human, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t love his Vila child. In the years following, Nikolai would grow into xis ability and into xis skin. Roman would guide xim with gentle hands and the principle that their duty on this earth was to care for others. When, 8 years after Sonia’s death, Nikolai was introduced to the concept of the Lesyas through The Moscow Times, xe knew that xe needed to be a part of it. At 19 years old, xe began to search for recruitment – secretly, because Roman initially balked at the idea of Nikolai joining something so vile. Within the year, xis interest had reached Lesya ears, and a recruiter was send xis way. Ever since, Nikolai has trained with the Lesyas and hidden from xis father’s watchful gaze. Roman still believes that xe has gotten a job as a businessman’s assistant.  

THE CHARACTER

Before God, before the Lesyas, Nikolai believes in kindness. It was this simple panacea, replicated in Roman, that granted him a second life after his mother’s abandonment – and it is this cause, for which the Lesyas fight for, that makes them so attractive to Nikolai. Xis ability is more powerful than xe admits, and xe tries to stay secretive about it lest xe become unapproachable. Xe wants to be all of the things that xis father believes xe is, but lately it’s been tricky. Xis training has frightened xim of late, as the Lesyas have begun to recognize xis untapped potential as a weapon of destruction. It’s a paradoxical sort of feeling; xe wants to fight, but xe doesn’t want to take a life. Xe’s counting the days before xe is ordered to.  

CONNECTIONS

Kristina Yerikevna Antonova - She was the first Lesya to smile at xim. Automatically, that warranted xis friendship. Nevermind that she was the one instructed to tour xim, to accustom xim to the Lesya slang and people; she was gentle to Nikolai and that was enough. Xe’s worked it into xis head that xe must repay her for her compassion and frequently gives her gifts. Kristina has warned Nikolai more than once about blowing her cover.

Ekaterina 'Kat' Radimevna Kozlova - Among the many Lesya trainers, Ekaterina is by far xis favorite. She’s fiery, true, but she’s patient too. It’s the combination of her high expectations for her students and the faith that she holds in them that inspires Nikolai to achieve greater heights. When Ekaterina first saw xim, xe could tell by her grimace that xe would require a bit of work, but she never gave up; if anything, she trained xim harder. For this, xe’s grateful.

Kit Aleksovich Yelchin - Nikolai is the only one who knows of Kit’s work as a (supposed) double agent. Kit told Nikolai with tears in his eyes when xe spotted him composing a letter addressed to the Rostek leader, Kir. Kit explained frantically that only Rainha knew of the scheme and that his life would become endangered should his secret be revealed. Though Nikolai has been wrong about these things before, xe trusts Kit and keeps his secret to ximself. 

Yelina ‘Lina’ Ionevna Dorokhova - Yelina shares many of xis beliefs, particularly regarding xis preference of non-violence. Many a night, they have stayed up late hours exchanging tactics that would avoid killing. Before she promoted herself from a thief to a scout, xe would tag along on her burglary missions and get very good at poking xis hands into places where they didn’t belong. Yelina inspired xim and frankly xe’s a bit hurt that she chose to give up her old life so quickly without so much as consoling xim first. 

Josef Stepanovich Vanko - Some weeks ago, Nikolai stepped into Josef’s bookstore with a brimming cup of iced coffee at hand. Josef stopped xim with a stern hand and pulled the drink away, going off about the danger of liquids on the books’ pages. Nikolai complied and browsed the tall aisles caffeine-less when suddenly Josef shouted in horror. Nikolai turned to see him unintentionally mimicking xis ability – their brief share of physical contact must have been enough as Josef was rippling Nikolai’s drink over the cash register in sporadic rivulets. After helping to clean the mess, xe was banned from Josef’s bookstore.

[[ More Connections ]] 

ETC

Though xe has healed significantly since Sonia’s death, xe still can’t stand the annual reminder of her death: their shared birthday. To ‘celebrate,’ Nikolai returns home to their father with a thick bouquet of flowers.  

Xe loathes parties, but is always invited to them. Although xe’s a miserable dancer, xe’s very good at keeping the alcohol cold. 

Despite xis best efforts, Nikolai’s ability is still not entirely under xis control. Xis hydrokinesis is connected to xis emotions, and when xe’s afraid or agitated, xe’s known to inadvertently rattle plumbing pipes. 

By far, Nikolai’s most treasured possession is the wooden toy boat that Sonia had helped Roman build for xis sixth birthday. When they were younger, Sonia would race it through the lake. Now it rests in xis bookshelf. 

Despite the events of xis childhood, Nikolai doesn’t fear water; xe actually loves swimming. Xe appreciates being underwater – specifically the solitude and the way that the world seems to fall into a muted haze.

[watchathon]

Carmen Sandiego, S1E2: Becoming Carmen Sandiego Part II

In case you’re finding this post just by browsing the tags I’ve used for this post, this is the Watchathon, a blog where I’m hoping to watch an episode of a TV show every weekday, with a short blog post where I write down my thoughts as I watch. Each new thought starts with a hyphen and a bolded first word.

- Like so. Now that the introductions are over with, here’s my thoughts on Becoming Carmen Sandiego Part II:

- I like the casual tone Player uses when he talks about finding Carmen’s location. It’s like it’s just an average day for him.

- There’s like, definitely an alternate universe where Carmen’s stunt with the parachute and Crackle had, uh... “permanent” consequences, right?

- Even VILE are starting to regret the whole idea of making a mime one of their own.

- “Mission first, sightsee later.” Something that Player said (word for word IIRC) in the last episode. Nothing meaningful to it that I can discern, I just think it’s neat.

- I like this scene of Carmen talking to the leader of the archaeological dig. I think, more than anything, this (combined with another moment just a bit later on) is what motivated her betrayal of VILE, and her future philosophy when it comes to her heists.

- And that other moment, is when Crackle almost kills the leader of the archaeological dig. It’s probable that even if Carmen did graduate, she would’ve drawn the line at murder. Knowing that such a thing is expected of VILE operatives definitely helped inspire her new path.

- Cutting back to present day, we see that it also tarnished her opinion of Graham. It was like she saw some entirely new side of him.

- “Villains International League of Evil.” Do ya think that any VILE students ever graduate, hear the real name of VILE, and then start thinking “Are we the baddies?”

- When Julia gets Carmen’s motive right, she not only tells the audience about the premise behind the series, but also proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that she’s the brains between her and Devineaux.

- So it would seem that Carmen’s biggest motivation to escape from the isle of VILE really was the events of the archaeological dig. Judging from her narration, she was committed to ditching the place as soon as she returned there.

- I like that Carmen’s first order of business in her escape attempt is getting the phone back so she can have Player as a partner in (escaping from a life of) crime.

- Seems Carmen’s savvy enough this time to stop Mime Bomb from ruining her plans.

- Also, Mime Bomb miming running away instead of actually running away will never not be hilarious.

- I like that the elevator music is the theme music from “Where On Earth Is Carmen Sandiego.” Especially fitting when Cookie Booker’s voice actor was the VA for Carmen in that show.

- Shadowsan seems at first glance like he’s hunting down Carmen, but this is one of those things that reads differently once you’ve watched everything so far...

- And, Carmen also gets the iconic red coat from Cookie Booker. These are the sort of subtle references to the past that I just love.

- So, I always thought it was Shadow-san, but looking at the subtitles, it’s actually Shadowsan, sans (heh) hyphen.

- I love this scene of Carmen deciding on a name. But... it is just ripe for humor, isn’t it? First off, there’s the joke about her calling herself “Brand Outerwear.” But, that aside, if Carmen Brand Outerwear had been located in some other city, that could be comedic gold, too.

Just looking at a list of funny town names, she could’ve become Carmen Boring, or Carmen Whynot, or Carmen Cranky Corner...

- Doesn’t matter in the slightest, but I do wonder how Carmen’s hat went from having a yellow stripe to having a black stripe...

- And now I’m wondering how she got her outfit back. Maybe this is the answer to my previous question? She’s just gone through a few different coats and hats in the process of using them as diversions. Proceeds from thievery go to nonprofits, and also replacing her iconic outfit if need be.

- Speaking of, nice touch that Carmen’s donating most of the money she does get her hands on. She is using her “wicked skills” for good, right? So she’s not just preventing VILE from stealing, she’s also giving to those who need it.

- I like that this pilot two-parter ends with a brief part of the theme song, or the audio, at least. It tells us that now the show is really getting started.