#ended up clearing out the current collection event so I'll try to post some stuff from there soon for you loves

[anaalnathrakhs]

Have fun!

🌵

🪐

🦷

🌿

🥐

🍅

🪲

omgggg back again w lots of questions i see, tysmmm

🌵 ⇢ share the link to a playlist you love

soooo i'm not really a playlist kinda guy i'll have to give you the only one i ever really made which is... well the songs are nice but i really didn't try towards the sound's cohesiveness so it might be a little disjointed. under the cut w everything else so as not to clog dashes.

🪐 ⇢ name three good things going on in your life right now

uhhh i'll have to sayyyyy...

1. i'm getting more friendly with classmates and they're chill, i really enjoy studying with them and they're such nice personalities

2. reconnected w a friend that i was drifting apart from, we hung out lately and it's still cool

3. i'm slow at it but i'm collecting more and more cultural references and catching up with the canons of the arts it's fucking FANTASTIC i love so so many oldass poems and painting and !!

🦷 ⇢ share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on

eh whenever I play therapist to my friends i always end back up saying something like "it sucks ass, it's fucked that it's happening, but stop biting back you're just gonna make everything suck even more" which is like. not necessarily always very comforting or empathetic, and sometimes inefficient bc emotions need to get out, but like. idk. Avoid, circumvent, check out, etc. Deflect, distract, find other stuff, etc. Wallow, exorcise, bitch about it, etc. i try to practice it too. You can really alienate people by letting your feelings out ON them instead of in their presence and with their support.

not sure that's full healthy i don't know anythingggg

🌿 ⇢ give some advice on writer’s block and low creativity

i am indeed currently stuck so. i guess my number one tactic is discussing stuff with people, not even necessarily my wip but being creative as a silly fun activity that leads to no writing can still warm up the engine mentally and then you can go write some stuff. i guess. it works sometimes.

🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh

i'm sorry it's in french but it kills me

🍅 ⇢ give yourself some constructive criticism on your own writing

I think I often don't take enough care of properly splitting and connecting clauses and sentences together. I can end up following my mental image and not describing crucial in-between frames that clear up events and allow for a smooth reading that doesn't leave the reader confused.

I'm very much a one-shot short form writer, by taste as much as lack of ability to write further, and it's in part because I leave a lot of warranted descriptions and explorations of concepts on the cutting room floor because it's challenging, long, and difficult to sequence and put into words. There's lots of themes that would warrant more exploration in my writing, that would need to be played out simultaneously with plot events, that would need to follow some kind of frame at least, and I forego building this skeleton so my fanfics are thinner than the theme could be.

Also, the crucial problem in everything I do, I know I won't go back to it so I do it LITERALLY one-shot. I tend to edit as I write and correct my formulations on the go A LOT, I don't force myself to that's just how I think whenever I write literally anything even simple as a post-it note, even though I know for creative writing it's bad practice. I'm also (related to that or not) deeply bored by and out of practice with editing and proofreading, so even when I force myself to I can't seem to focus on it and I catch nothing. It's easier to go back a few weeks or a few months later, rereading to refresh my memory and suck my own dick (or be horrified at what the hell i must've been thinking to write this bullshit), and then realize I left abominable errors and typos in important paragraphs.

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here

...it will need to be in french, because i may be a WIP serial monogamist but i'm still betrothed to one rn. conclave is living in my brain. and i'm living on the wikipedia page for john paul II's death.

Cette perspective de la protection divine sur la tombe du Saint-Père avait quelque peu réconforté Lawrence. Il y aurait encore une lueur de Sa grâce au chevet de son cher ami. La nature de cette vie de dévotion était telle que sa joie comme sa souffrance s’alourdissaient de la présence des pairs autour de soi, harmonisant leurs prières et leurs confessions. Bientôt, lorsque la nouvelle serait publiée dans un communiqué de presse, la vie de Lawrence, sede vacante, ne serait plus dédiée qu’à l’organisation du Vatican dans la perspective du conclave approchant. C’est après un instant de réflexion, dans les murmures emplissant les couloirs de Sainte-Marthe, qu’il pensât que feu le Saint-Père avait sans doute apporté à ce communiqué sa propre plume, de son vivant.

This is not the full paragraph, as I'm trying to write in proper french formatting and thus without dialogues those paragraphs as chunky as all hell. I started writing today with "de son cher ami" (yeah i had left that sentence hanging, i was clean out of ideas okay). I'm gonna attempt a stylistic calque to translate it in english, which will make it heavy and inelegant (not that it's light in french but yknow. tradition.) sorry abt that

This perspective of the divine protection on the Holy Father's tomb had somewhat comforted Lawrence. There would be, still, a gleam of His grace on his dear friend's bedside. The essence of this life of devotion was such that joy much like sorrow weighted down with the presence of one's peer around him, harmonizing their prayers and their confessions. Soon, when the news would break out in a statement, Lawrence's life, sede vacante, would be dedicated to no more than the organization of the Vatican in the perspective of the coming Conclave. It was after an instant of thought, in the whispers filling the hallways of Santa Marta, that it occurred that the late Holy Father had no doubt put on this press release his own spin, during his lifetime.

Thank you so much for asking that, I finished this paragraph and I'm pretty happy with it. I hope the translation holds some interest, I'm at least having a lot of fun with this WIP in french when I figure out some plot and I can smoothly put words on it.

Well, thank you for asking all of those in general!! tyyyy i hope it's fun to read

[tinyboxxtink]

"Doppelganger" *Part 24*

Alright I REFUSE to make this story any longer, so the next chapter IS the finale, I swear to you.

This is just one more little loose end I wanted to throw in, maybe it'll come back around the epilogue. Who knows?! I know.

I would have started the "Wedding Day" here but I really wanted it to be it's own chapter, so this is kinda short and I'm not gonna lie if I have to I will make the last chapter 20 pages long to fit the ending in. That being said I have some stuff to do tomorrow night and work the next night so I may or may not split up writing the last chapter between those and post it late Sunday or Monday.

It's worth it I promise! I'll make it worth it.

Part 23

Finale!!

Tag List

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@objection-argumentative

-------

The next day Rafael asked you to come by his office once again, making you nervous. Especially when you showed up to the Mayor and a Lawyer to greet you along with Rafael.

“Pinguino,” Rafael smiled as he met you at the door with his arms open wide pulling you into a kiss.

“....More interviews?” You whispered as you eyed the two other men.

“Actually, they haven’t told me what they’re doing here yet,” Rafael whispered back as you both walked over to the men sitting at Rafael’s desk. Rafael pulled another chair around to his side so you could sit next to him. He had a feeling this would take a while.

“So...gentlemen,” Rafael cleared his throat. “What’s this about?”

“Well Barba it’s about your wedding,” The mayor replied.

“...Why am I not surprised..?” He shook his head with a laugh.

“Actually Mr. Barba I think you’ll find this visit different from others the mayor here has sprung on you thus far,” His lawyer answered.

“...And that would be because…?” Rafael raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Because Mr. Fenkell here says that I owe you financial compensation for all you’ve been doing for me,” The mayor replied rather gruffly as he crossed his arms like a petulant child being called into the principal’s office.

“...Excuse me?” Rafael looked at both of them with confusion.

“Well Mr. Barba, I’m surprised you haven’t either realized or brought up the fact that the situation that you’re in is called ‘quid pro quo’,” The lawyer explained.

“Yes I know what ‘quid pro quo’ is counselor, we went to the same law school,” Rafael snarked. “And I graduated with higher honors than you,”

“Barba I’m here trying to help you out, I don’t know why you’re lashing out at me,” The lawyer now crossed his arms.

“Baby,” You put a hand on his. “Just let the man talk,”

“Right,” He nodded reluctantly. “Go on,”

“Like I was saying,” Mr. Fenkell pulled out papers from his briefcase. “I assume you and your fiancée here have been going along with the Mayor’s requests for fear of losing your job, correct?”

“I mean, not mine per say,” Rafael shrugged. “THAT would be illegal,”

“Right,” Mr. Fenkell nodded. “But everything he’s done thus far involving you and your fiancé's likeness entitles you to royalties, and dues for services,”

“Well, that is true,” Rafael nodded. “I’ve been so preoccupied with everything else I haven’t even stopped to think--”

“Which is exactly why I’m here,” Mr. Fenkell cut him off. “I figured a competent lawyer like yourself would realize when all the dust settles, that you were indeed entitled to a sum of money, and would therefore sue the Mayor after the fact,”

“Wow, that’s a lot of assuming on your part sir,” You laughed softly. “You really think Rafael is that shit of a--”

“I mean he is right,” Rafael finished for you.

“...Or I’m just an idiot,” You muttered.

“No, baby you’re not an idiot,” Rafael took your hand. “But we are entitled--YOU are entitled for some kind of compensation for all that you’ve done for the mayor--for me,”

“I thought my compensation was getting to marry you,” You smiled sweetly.

“Aww,” Mr. Fenkell remarked, causing an eye roll from the mayor.

“Right so--” Mr. Fenkell began laying papers filled with legal jargon on the desk in front of you and Rafael.

“This contract states that once we settle on a number, you won’t try and collect more from the mayor with some random claim like ‘emotional distress’ during your wedding, or events thereafter due to all of this,”

“...Trauma?” You couldn’t help but laugh. “You think that after everything I went through, I would classify this as trauma?”

“I mean theoretically you could, Ms. Y/L/N,” He nodded. “The emotional stress of reliving your trauma and trying to plan a wedding while on display for the whole city must be taking a toll on you right now, is it not?”

“...Well it wasn’t until you said it like that,” You muttered.

“Dammit Maxwell I told you, they were perfectly fine with--” The mayor began to pitch a fit.

“Oh no no no,” Rafael wagged a finger at the mayor. “Just because she’s ignorant of the--”

“Excuse you?” You crossed your arms at Rafael’s condescending tone.

“I mean, just because she doesn’t realize or recognize the emotional stress she’s under doesn’t mean that she doesn’t have it, and doesn’t deserve compensation” He looked to you apologetically while he re-worded the statement. You gave him an approving nod.

“Right well this is what this is for--”

“And what kind of price tag have you put on my fiance's feelings, counselor?”

“Well if you’ll peruse the contract, counselor…” Mr. Fenkell pointed to the bottom of the paper.

“This contract blah blah blah, no further seeking monetary blah blah blah…” Rafael spoke out loud as he scanned the document. Then suddenly, his eyes widened and he stopped reading, looking at you then Mr. Fenkell then the Mayor.

“...A million dollars?” He raised his eyebrow, skeptical.

“...What?” You gasped.

“....Each,” He added with a smile as he handed you the paper. You didn’t know a lot of the words, but in plain black and white you read: “...In the form of one million dollars per plaintiff,”

“I’m sorry, WHAT?” You said louder than you intended, but that was insane.

“That’s insane,” You said out loud. “I don’t need that kind--”

“Baby,” Rafael stopped you and pulled you slightly away from the mayor and his lawyer. “I know that you get antsy when good things happen to you, but you deserve this,”

“For what?!” You hissed. “For taking a few photos? For letting a camera crew in a church? Rafael I just--”

“...But think of everything before that, carino,”

“What, Nevada? That--” You shook your head.

“Wasn’t your fault,” Rafael finished.

“...Well it wasn’t the mayor’s fault either, Raffi,” You nodded at the mayor.

“But he is exploiting you for it,” Rafael pointed out.

“....True,” You nodded.

“Excuse you two, but I--” The mayor began to rant again.

“And if I may add,” Mr. Fenkell jumped in. “While Mr. Barba was worried about his job, you also had reason to be worried about it as well. Being as he is your only means of support,”

“Right now,” You quickly added.

“....Right,” Mr. Fenkell gave you a side eye. “Currently,”

Clearly this douchebag thought what everyone else must be thinking. That you were just marrying Rafael for his money. So that you could be a ‘kept’ woman. Well, he was about to learn that was the furthest thing from the truth.

“Alright then,” You finally said. “Then I want my share to go to Rafael, if we’re going to be married it’s his anyway,”

“No no no no, Nuh-uh,” Rafael shook his head. “Your share is your share,”

“...But I don’t want you to think that I’ve got some... ‘escape money’,” You gave him a sad look.

“Escape money?” He laughed. “Baby I told you, I think the last thing I should be worried about is you leaving me,”

“....Also true,” You nodded with a soft smile. You sure as hell had not gotten this far working this hard to ‘get’ Rafael to just give him up. Ever.

“Okay then, do I tell you where I want the money to go or do I do it myself?” You asked Mr. Fenkell.

“...You already have plans for it?” Mr. Fenkell asked you. “...Didn’t you just say you didn’t want it? Why would you--”

“Just answer the question,” You said flatly.

“I mean Mr. Barba could just draw up the contracts and paperwork for you to transfer your funds wherever you--”

“But Mr. Barba is my husband, not my lawyer,” You cut him off. “...And I’d like to keep that way,” You looked over at who Rafael looked at you in confusion.

"Not Mixing business and pleasure," You smirked.

“Right,” Mr. Fenkell nodded as pulled out a legal pad and a pen. “Well I can make a list of where you want to divert the funds and we’ll go from there,”

“Okay,” You took a deep breath. “Well, first of all-- obviously,” You took Rafael’s hand. “I want to pay off the rest of my time at Julliard,”

“That’s unnecessary, carino--”

“Yeah I know you say that Rafael, but I was going there before I met you and it’s not your respon--”

“It’s already paid for, in full,” He spoke over you.

“...What?” You asked him with a breathy voice. When did he have time to do that?! WHY-wait.

“But I’m going to need an extra semester since I’m taking the rest of this one off,” You said softly as you glanced at the other two in shame. You still felt guilty about Rafael having to basically babysit you for the past few weeks.

“Yeah I figured that.” He nodded with a smile, stroking your cheek. “It’s all taken care of, carino,”

“...Alright fine then I want to pay it back,” You insisted.

“No,” He shook his head. “Absolutely not,”

“Rafael come on--”

“NO,” He repeated sternly. “I won’t take it,”

“....Alright, fine,” You rolled your eyes. “Then I want a chunk to go to abuela--”

“No I have them covered too,” He shook his head. “And they are definitely NOT your responsibility. And before you say next that you want it to go to Maria, she will never accept it. We're too proud of a people," He smiled teasingly.

“...Fine,” You sighed in frustration. “THEN I want a chunk of it to go to opening a drama center,” You crossed your arms and looked at Rafael. “Any objections to that, counselor?”

“...A drama center?” He looked at you curiously.

“Look,” You took both of his hands. “I know you couldn’t-- your mom didn’t want you---” You took another breath, trying to figure out exactly what to say. “...You had to give up your dream to take care of your family,”

“Carino…” He took your hand.

“And my parents, they spent all the money we had on dance lessons, acting lessons, all of it. On ME. Just so that I could live my dream,” You continued. “Kids should be able to dream their dreams without their parents having to worry about money to do so,”

“But...your dream, Y/N. You want to be on Broadway. How are you gonna fit--” He started to speak but you were nowhere near done with your speech.

“Baby my dream was selfish,” You shook your head. “I wanted to be famous for the wrong reasons. To be adored by the world, to be loved by everyone. But, now I know the only person’s love I care about, is yours,” You stroked his face.

“If I open this place then I can still use my talents as a teacher, helping kids like us. I told your mom that when I met you, you made me a better person, that you made me want to be better. I want that to be true. I need that to be true,” You finally finished with a small smile, tears lined Rafael’s eyes.

“You are the best person I know, mi amor,” He pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “I think the center is a great idea,”

“Good,” You smiled. “And….I want to name it the Y/L/N-Barba Drama Center,”

“....Well obviously after you,” He nodded.

“No,” You shook your head. “After you. And my parents. Because if it wasn’t for them I wouldn’t have found you, and you gave me everything I’ve ever wanted,”

“I love you,” He beamed at you as he kissed you deeply.

“...And on that note,” You turned back to Mr. Fenkell who looked wildly uncomfortable by your little cutesy side conversation.

“I want the rest to be split between a savings account for me, and the other half into a trust,”

“A trust?” Mr. Fenkell asked as he wrote down your wishes.

“A trust for our children,” You smiled at Rafael. “My parents spent so much money so that I could live my dream. I think it’s only fair I do the same for them; especially when I have the means to do it,”

“See those redneck shithead Jersians have no idea what they’re talking about,” He pressed his forehead against yours. “You are not selfish, not at all,”

“Thanks to you,” You pressed your own forehead against his like a love head butt.

“....Okay, so is there anywhere else you’d like it to go, Ms. Y/N?” Mr. Fenkell said rather loudly, trying once again to remind you there were other people in the room. People who were not amused with your disgustingly cute conversations.

“Um, no I think that’s good,” You nodded.

“Split up mine the same way, Max,” Rafael added.

“Rafael you don’t need to--” You started to protest but he put a finger to your mouth.

“I have money,” He assured you. “I have enough money to take care of us for the rest of our lives. This money should go somewhere that represents the both of us, and our love,”

“Can we please for the love of God just end this, please?” The mayor groaned. “If I have to sit here and watch you word vomit your love all over this office, I might actually vomit,”

“Right,” Rafael rolled his eyes. “Well gentlemen you know where to find us,” He grabbed the pen and signed one of the contracts then handed it to you and you did the same.

“Now if you’ll excuse us we’re going to ‘love vomit’ all over each other now,” He smirked as he handed back the papers. Mr. Fenkell and The mayor nodded as they walked out.

“Well, what do you want to do now?” Rafael wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“As tempting as that sounds, I have another request mi amor,” You played with the hair on the back of his knuckles with a soft voice.

“Anything for you pinguino,”

“Well I mean, you have some pull over there,” You nodded outside towards the courthouse that was attached to the DA's office by a hallway.

“...Why, do you need parking tickets dismissed or something? Did I agree to marry a felon?” He teased you.

“No,” You giggled. “But I would like to skip the ‘name changing’ line,” You pulled him closer as his smile grew bigger.

“I don’t think that’s what they call it, but I appreciate the sentiment,” He kissed you as you both walked towards the door of his office and out into the lobby.

“We’ll be back, Tommy,” He told his assistant.

“Right sir,” He nodded.

“This way to the ‘name changing line’, pinguino,” He smirked as you walked down the hall towards the courthouse.

------

--An Hour Later--

You and Rafael walked out of the courthouse and down the steps hand in hand as you pulled the two papers from his hands. One was a marriage license, and one was a form that was filled with boring legal jargon but at the bottom was printed: “Legal Name: Mrs. Y/F/N Barba,” with your new signature on the dotted line.

“Mrs. Rafael Barba,” You smiled as you looked at the paper.

“Oh no no no,” Rafael shook his head with a laugh. “That sounds like you’re my property, pinguino,”

“True,” You nodded with a teasing smile.

“...So why the sudden urgency to change your name, carino?” He asked as you walked down the street hand in hand. “Not that I’m complaining. I'd be lying if I said just looking at your name with my last name makes me giddy,”

“Giddy?” You gave him a look.

“Yeah, I said it. Giddy,” He laughed.

“...I don’t know, it was something that my therapist said,” You shrugged.

“...And what did she say?” He asked you skeptically.

“She said,” You sighed and pulled Rafael out of the flow of traffic of people.

“She said that women who don’t take their husband's last names had one foot out the door of the marriage before even going in,” You looked up at him with soft eyes. “And I don’t want you to think that I am any less than 100% sure of my love for you, and the rest of our lives together,”

“Well, first of all I’d like to see her marriage to divorce ratios based on that assumption,” He rolled his eyes. “And second-- I appreciate the sentiment baby, I really do. Just as long as you did it for you, and not because your therapist guilted you into it,”

“She didn’t,” You assured him. “I did this for me. For us,”

“Well then Mrs. Barba,” He took your hand once again with a huge smile. “Let’s grab some dinner, shall we?” He asked in a melodramatic, fancy tone.

“We shall, Mr. Barba,” You answered in the same tone, making both of you giggle like school kids.

Now all that was left to do was actually get married!