#god almighty when i read the leaks i went there is no way this is real and if this is real it's garbage and here i am now. a clown.

[aq2003]

rtd1 makes the audience attach themselves onto ten by making him pass out for 75% of his first episode so when he finally shows up you're so happy he's there to save the day. rtd2 makes the audience attach themselves onto fifteen by not killing fourteen on screen but instead having ncuti swing in and out-charisma david and sending him into retirement establishing that fifteen can travel the stars with less weight in his shoulders bc fourteen gets to rest before dying for real. it's bold as hell and even if i didn't already like the episode i would definitely appreciate how much audacity rtd has in his bones

[blackmissfrizzle]

Don’t Make Me Say It

Characters: Angel Reyes x black!reader

Summary: Angel takes care of you after one too many drinks.

Warnings: it’s me so smut, duh 😂

A/N: Shoutout to my muse, my enabler, my lending ear @starrynite7114 for helping me brainstorm this!

If you like what you read, here’s my masterlist and if you want notifications here’s my taglist.

Gif credit @xxrouxx

“I can’t believe me you got me to wear this.” Angel pulled at the crotch of his costume, but you couldn’t stare at him for too long or you’d jump his bones and that wasn’t appropriate best friend behavior. “You could’ve chosen the other costume,” you whispered in his ear and ran away before he could catch you. Now he really had to readjust his pants as he watched your dress flap against your bottom showing a bit of the booty shorts you wore under.

“Damnnnn, Y/N!” Coco whistled while he twirled you around.

“You couldn’t have chosen another costume?” Angel snatched you back from Coco. You looked up at him with furrowed brows, “I thought you liked it? You said I look like a total badass.” Angel kissed your forehead, instantly feeling bad at poking at your self-confidence. “I do like it and you are a total badass. It’s just even with the booty shorts, your ass is hanging out. You’re lucky I can fight.”

“Coco is harmless.” Angel looked over your head to his brother who caught another glance at your backside. “Yeah, he’s gonna be harmless in a few.” Angel was making his way to the bar when Cynthia stopped him.

“Hey, Angel,” she gave him shameless head to toe once over and stroked his arm. You cleared your throat, there was no way you were gonna let this hoe ignore you. “Oh hey, Y/N. What are you? Supergirl?”

“No, dumbass, you’re thinking of Wonder Woman and you would still be wrong. I’m Xena.” Cynthia just looked at you with an open mouth and blank stare. “Warrior Princess?” You added, hoping it would help her out. “Nope, never heard of her.” She dryly stated but pepped back up when she turned back to Angel. “What are you, Angel?”

He looked down and smirked at you. If Cynthia didn’t know who you were then it was doubtful, she would get Angel’s. “I’m Ares.” She got that blank look again. You and Angel had to try your hardest not to laugh at her. “God of War.” Same blank look stayed on her face. “Okay, well catch you later,” he gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder and made a smooth getaway to the bar, where EZ had shots waiting for you two.

You took a group shot with the boys and immediately after told EZ to rack em up again. “Uh, chiquita you sure about that? We got that good shit.”

“Yes, I’m sure, Johnny!” You rolled your neck and took your shot. “I can match you shot for shot.” A sly smile crossed Coco’s face as he slid a twenty on the bar. “Wanna bet?”

Angel grabbed your wrist when you went for your wallet. “You sure you want to do that? Coco can drink.” You jutted your chin towards your opponent. “Him? See how skinny he is…man I’ll drink him under the table.” Angel threw his hands up in surrender as he watched you put your twenty down. “Okay, but I’m not holding your hair later.”

You overestimated yourself. You lost twenty dollars and to top it off you got a hangover.

Last night, Angel cut you off when you were dancing on the tabletop with Xiomara. And he’s glad he did, because as soon as you got to his house you ran for the bathroom.

“I told you so,” Angel sung while holding your hair. However, you didn’t have the energy to get smart, you were too busy throwing up your stomach lining.

Angel lived up to his name. He held up your hair until you were done vomiting, he started the shower for you. While you were showering, he got your clothes out since you kept some at his place for these types of occasions and before you went to bed, he made you drink some water and take some Tylenol.

But when you woke up the next day, Angel wouldn’t let you hear the end of it. “Just one more shot, Angel.” He mocked you, he made his voice higher to match your pitch. “Okay, okay you won. I should’ve listened to you.” Groaning, you roll over and grip a pillow for comfort.

Angel came and sat next to you and rubbed your back, making your back heat up from his touch. “Nah, but for real, you good?” Turning back towards Angel, you intertwined your fingers with his. “Better now, thanks to you.” Taking your conjoined hands, you turned them to kiss Angel’s. You missed the smile that graced his lips when yours met his hand. It was an asshole thing to think, but he wished he could get you drunk like this all the time, so he had an excuse for you to be laid up in his house.

“I got you, Warrior Princess,” he patted your thigh and got up, giving you a perfect view of his dick print in those damn sweats.  “I’ll make you some breakfast. Don’t want you puking all over the place again.”

“Fuck you, Angel!” You threw a pillow at him. “Promise?” He clasped his own hands together and bashed his eyelashes like a schoolgirl. “You wish,” you scoffed. “Then no food for you.” Angel walked away, his wide back disappearing into the kitchen. “No, Angel come back! I was just kidding!”

Angel popped his head around the corner with a big ass grin on his face. He came back to you, his dick print at the arm of the couch, making it eye level to you when you lean your head back. “I know, querida.” He kissed your forehead and went back to the kitchen.

The whole time Angel was cooking you tried to wipe every impure thought of him. Currently, you were watching Lion King, hoping the children’s movie would cleanse you, but it didn’t. Angel kept interrupting your viewing by talking to you, his deep timbre leading you to daydream about how he would sound deep in your guts.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” Angel repeated your name until he finally clapped in front of your face to get your attention. “Huh?” “I said, did you like the food?” “Uh huh, yeah it was great, thank you.”

Angel eyed you warily as he took your plate to the kitchen. “Okayyyyy, imma get you something to drink because you’re still out of it.”

Fuck it, you thought. The worst thing that could happen is that he rejects you and all you have to do is blame it on the alcohol. “Cum or water,” you asked boldly. Angel came out bugged eyed with a glass of water. “Excuse me?” Sitting up, you tried to make yourself as presentable as possible. “Do you want me to drink your cum or water?”

This had the be a cruel joke, Angel thought. “Shut up, you’re still drunk.” He shoved the glass of water in your hand and tried to walk away, but you stopped him. “No, I’m not Angel. I’m very sober right now and I know what I want.”

“And what do you want?” Angel asked, keeping his back towards you. Taking a hold of Angel’s bicep, you turned him towards you. His eyes were downcast, trying his best to avoid yours until you lifted his chin. “I want you Angel Reyes, but if this is not what you want, we can pretend this was a drunken mistake.”

His silence scared you and caused you to back away. Leave it to you to make a fool of yourself and possibly ruin your relationship with your best friend. “Alrighty, then, imma get my things and go home.” Dejected you bent down to grab your purse and went for the door, but Angel grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him. His name barely left your lips when his was on yours. At first it was soft and hesitant, like he was testing the waters, but once he felt you kissing back it became harder, like he was making sure he never forgets the feel of your lips.

He gripped the back of your thighs and carried you until the back of his knees hit the couch. He only backed away, so you two could get an inhale of breath. Taking advantage of him releasing you, you slid down his body onto your knees. “I need you to hold my hair again,” you told him before you pulled down his sweats.

Good god almighty. Xiomara told you that the other girls at Vicki’s said that Angel’s dick was big, but you weren’t expecting this. How would he fit all in your mouth? And then who goes around not wearing any underwear around their best friend? “Scared, querida?”

“No,” you crossed your arms and pouted. “I was just wondering what kind of psycho doesn’t wear boxers with their best friend around?” Angel laughed and cupped your face to kiss you. “Maybe deep down I was hoping this would happen. Now are you gonna keep stalling or you gonna suck this dick, mami?”

Whew, you can do this Y/N. Taking a deep inhale, you rolled your shoulders and cracked your neck side to side. What was the first thing Xio said? Oh right, lube it up. Gathering the moisture in your mouth, you spit on Angel’s dick. In no way this could be sexy, you thought, but then you heard Angel mutter, “Oh fuck.” You gripped his dick and you didn’t expect it to feel so warm, smooth, and heavy.

His red, swollen tip was leaking precum and now you had to get a taste. First, it started with a little lick of the mushroom head, then it led to a lick from the underside all the way to the tip, then from his balls in your mouth while you jerked him off, and until finally your head was bobbing up and down from sucking him off.

“Yeah, just like that, querida.” Angel hissed, his hand wrapping around your hair. “Slow down, baby or I’m gonna cum.” You hopped off his dick momentarily. “That’s the point,” you smiled and went back to work, picking up speed. “Fuck, baby.” Angel grabbed your head and drilled his hips, fucking your mouth until his hot seed exploded in your mouth.

“Open up, baby. Lemme see,” he pulled your chin down to see his essence in your mouth. “Swallow,” he ordered, pushing your chin back up.

When he saw that you swallowed, he leaned down and kissed you, pulling you up with him. “Good girl. Let daddy return the favor.” He laid you on your back and pulled your shorts down with his teeth. “Mmm, you smell delicious, baby.”

The anticipation was killing you. His heated breath could be felt against your covered core, sending tingly sensations throughout your body. “Pretty ass pussy. Can daddy get a taste?” He snapped back your panties with his teeth.

“Mmhmm, please,” you whimpered under his touch. “But these panties are so soaked, mami. I think I should dry them out.” Angel fixed your panties into their rightful place and clasped his mouth right where your clothed clit was at.

Even through the fabric, you could feel Angel’s tongue and the man could work magic. Your vibrator paled in comparison to him. “Angel, please! I need the real thing.”

“You sure you can handle it?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Alright, brace yourself.”

“Angel, shut th- OHMYGAWD!” Your back lifted from the couch and you clawed at it. Angel should’ve given a better warning than that. How were you not supposed to lose your mind?

‘Fuck’ was the only word you seemed to know. “Come on, mami. Cum all over my tongue.” You followed Angel’s command with screams and quivering. Never before had you experienced such a strong orgasm and Angel took notice.

“Damn, you good? Nobody made you cum like that before?” Angel murmured against your neck as he started to finger you. “Nope.” Your answer was breathy due to Angel’s ministrations. “Cause you’ve been fucking with little boys. I’m a man and imma take care of you, mi dulce.”

He ran off to his room to get condoms. Should you tell him? Would it be bad if you didn’t? But what if he stops if you do tell him? But Angel would want to know. What if he laughs at? Would he laugh at you? Nah, he wouldn’t, not your Angel.

“None of them made me cum, because I haven’t fucked any of them.” You whispered, covering your face with your hands.

“Huh?” Angel stopped rolling the condom on and looked at you through fallen strands of hair. “What do you mean, Y/N?” Angel knew what you meant, but he needed to hear you say the words. He needed to hear it come directly and unmistakably from your mouth.

“You’re really gonna make me say it?” Angel looked at you patiently with raised eyebrows. Evil bastard. “I’m a fucking virgin!” You yelled and then covered your face with a pillow, hoping you would be able to disappear.

“Fuck, Y/N!” You peered from behind the pillow to see Angel rub a hand over his face and your heart dropped. Of course, Angel didn’t want to screw a virgin. What sex god wants to be with one?

“I’ll go now,” you tried to roll off the couch, but Angel stopped you with a hand on your hip. “Where you going?”

“Home, Angel. You clearly don’t wanna do this now.”

“Did I say that?” Angel pinned you beneath him, his face getting closer to yours. “No,” you whimpered, feeling yourself getting wetter at the waves of his dominance. “Then how did you get to that conclusion?” “Because you fucking blanched when I told you!”

“I fucking blanched, because your first time doesn’t need to be on my couch! You deserve the candlelight dinner, the wine, the flowers, a better fucking place than this!” He outstretched his hands around his home. “So, don’t you ever fucking presume that I don’t want you. I want you so damn bad that it hurts.” His voice croaked a bit, revealing his true feelings.

Cupping his cheek, you kissed him. “But I don’t want all that, Angel. I just want you. My first time will be perfect because it’s with you.”

“You sure?” He kissed the palm of your hand. “There’s no going back after this. I’m making you mines.”

You lifted your shirt and unhooked your bra, fully exposing yourself to Angel. His wanton gazed made you feel desired and a bit stupid for doubting Angel’s attraction to you. “Make me yours, Ignacio”

Angel growled and lifted you from the couch to carry you to his room. “Wait a minute,” he stopped in the middle of the hallway and pushed you against the wall. “How the fuck did you learn how to suck dick like that if you’re a virgin?”

“I had Xiomara teach me,” you nuzzled your face in Angel’s neck to escape the embarrassment. “Vicki’s Xiomara?! What the fuck, Y/N? Who the fuck was he?” He gripped your chin, fury covering his face until he saw you laughing. “What the fuck is so funny?”

“You,” you gasped between laughter, wiping away your tears. “Xio had me practice on a dildo, not on a john.”

“Oh,” Angel had that adorable little pout on his face when he got stunned. “So, did she wear a strap orrrr…” You slapped Angel against his chest. “None of your fucking business.” “Well, next time I see her I’m tipping her. She did a damn good job.”

He continued walking to his room and went to get a towel to lay you on. At first, he didn’t join you in the bed. Angel just stared down at you in disbelief that he finally had you naked in his bed. “I love you. You know that, right?”

Smiling up at Angel, you gripped his wrist to pull him down to you. “Yeah, I know. I love you, too.” Angel kissed you once more while he reached out for a condom.

He was trying to open the condom packet with his mouth when you snatched it out and threw it to the side. “I’m on the pill.” Angel had to remind himself that he couldn’t jump on you like he really wanted to. There would be plenty of that later once you got use to him.

“God, I love you.” He bent down to kiss you, to distract you from the upcoming pain you were about to experience. You hissed and bit on Angel’s bottom lip when he finally began to stretch you out. “You good?” He lifted up to check on you. “Yes, please keep going.” Angel continued pushing until he felt something pop and checked on you once more. “Angel, I swear I’m good.” You strained, clawing at his back.

Angel didn’t know how he was keeping it together. “Querida, you feel good. You were made for me.” He whispered against your lips. “Can daddy move? Can daddy make you feel good like you did to him?”

“Mmhmm,” you nodded your head, tears pricking your eyes from the delicious pleasure Angel was giving you. Angel pulled almost all the way out, just leaving the tip in then slowly slid back on. “Angel,” you gasped. “Louder, baby. I want my neighbors to know who’s making you feel this good.”

“Harder!” You were not beneath begging. Angel was going slow, almost pulling all the way out just to fill you back up while he laid his forehead against yours and gave you praises. “No, not yet. I gotta savor you baby.”

Angel pushed up on his arms allowing him to reach new depths and watch him slide in and out of you. “Such a pretty little pussy, especially with my dick inside of it. Don’t you think?” He grabbed the back of your neck to make you watch. It was glorious, a marvel to look at. “Oh my god, daddy. Please fill me up.”

“You want my cum? You want me to fill my pussy up so much it is leaking down your thighs?”  Angel prayed you said yes because he couldn’t hold out much longer. “Fuck, yes! Please!” At your cries, Angel gave you controlled snaps of his hips and thumbed at your clit. As you screamed Angel’s name, he screamed yours, both of you cumming together.

Angel looked down at your conjoined bodies and admired his work. He did that to you. He made you cream like that, that it was dripping down your legs. But his eyes also caught the sight of blood, the evidence of him taking your purity and your well-being was back at the forefront. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He cradled you, scared that he hurt you. “No, worrywart. Actually, I was thinking next time you can go a little harder?” You shrunk yourself, scared that Angel might think you were weird for wanting it rougher.

“Alright, be careful what you wish for,” Angel warned you with a sly smirk.

--

Coco watched you limp across the yard all day. He knew it wasn’t with exercise because you told the crew you spent the weekend recovering from the Halloween party. But then he caught the little smile you gave Angel and the one Angel returned back and there was only one explanation he could come up with. “You hit that?” Coco tapped Angel’s knee and then pointed to you helping Chucky spread out some desserts.

“Y/N, come here.” Angel yelled from the picnic table. He watched you hold up one finger to Chucky and then run over to him. “What do you want, Reyes?”

“Come closer,” he ordered. You stepped in between his legs and he buried his hands in your hair and brought his lips to yours. The kiss was supposed to be sweet and chaste, but Angel couldn’t help himself. One taste of you and he couldn’t stop.

“Okay, we get it!” Bishop yelled, slightly disgusted at Angel tonguing down the young woman he considered a daughter. “You finally got your heads out of your asses and got together.”

Angel pulled away from you and both of you had silly, goofy, ‘I’m in love’ smiles on your faces. “Reyes you hurt her feelings and I’ll bash your knees in!” Bishop threatened, even though he could tell it was useless by the way Angel was looking at you.

“Yeah! You’ll be a no knee having ass bitch!” You teased, pretending to bash his knees in with your air baseball bat. Angel mushed your face, “I got it, Prez!” He yelled over your forehead with no worries about being a no knee having ass bitch.

Taglist: @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @starrynite7114 @sambucky8 @mygirlrenee @richonne4life @readsalot73 @chaneajoyyy @ljstraightnochaser @my-rosegold-soul @angrythingstarlight @brattyfics @lovebennycolon @langiinspirations @chibsytelford @trulysuccubus @spookys-girl @brownsugarcoffy @thesandbeneathmytoes @fvckthisbxtchup @theartisticqueen​ @vsfavs​

[sarahjtv]

BNHA Chapter 306 Spoilers Quick Thoughts: Holy Shit, Deku

Ok, I’ve decided to wait until I read the ReadMHA fan translations to make a full “Spoiler Thoughts” post because it’s easier for me to look at them than look back and fourth at various Twitter accounts to get the full picture.  Regarless, THIS CHAPTER OH MY GOD!!!!!!!  I haven’t been this antsy for leak images since the “Dabi is Touya Todoroki” reveal.  I wanted to write this last night, but I was already in bed crying and screaming my head off that I couldn’t.  Now that I have most of it processed, I need to write down some quick thoughts at least to get some stuff out:

First of all, I need to address THE BALLS ON HORIKOSHI-SENSEI FOR PULLING THIS SHIT OUT ON US AND MAKING IT WORK SWEET JESUS I DID NOT SEE THIS COMING AT ALL!!!!!!  THIS MAN BAITED US WITH THE 2ND AND 3RD ONE FOR ALL USERS AND MAYBE SOME THERAPY FOR OUR KIDS BUT NOPE!  HE JUST PULLED THE RUG UNDER ALL OF US AND THEN MADE DEKU LEAVE UA AND GO ALL VIGILANTE ON OUR ASSES!!!!!  I HATE IT HERE BUT I ALSO LOVE IT HERE I-

Second of all, the big topic that we all need to talk about: Deku leaving UA and everyone else to go off on his own.

Out of all the twist Horikoshi has pulled on us, I think this is the biggest and most unexpected one.  I honestly did think that some UA students would quit trying to be Pro Heroes after the war because of how much corruption and trauma has been brought to the surface.  But, Deku was one of the last people on my mind.  Out of all the characters in this series, I would think Deku would stay and prove to everyone that it’s ok to keep striving towards being a hero.  But, no...  He still wants to be a hero, but not the way any of us expected.  

Before Deku left, he wrote and left individual letter for every one of his fellow 1-A students (and hopefully his mom, All Might, Mirio, and Eri (OH, ERI ;~;)).  In it, he tells them the truth about One For All and why Shigaraki and All For One are after him.  Of course, all the kids are devastated.  What’s interesting to me is that we didn’t get reactions from everyone, it was mainly Uraraka.  This makes me wonder a few things:

1. If Deku wrote these out individually (his arms probably mostly healed at this point b/c he’s using them in the last page), I wonder if he wrote anything special for some of them.  Especially the people he’s close to.  Like, I need to know what he wrote to Iida, to Uraraka, to Inko, to All Might, TO SHOTO, TO BAKUGO.

2. WE DON’T GET TO SEE SHOTO’S AND BAKUGO’S REACTIONS TO DEKU LEAVING THEM AND I NEED TO SEE THEM NOW!  I DON’T CARE HOW SAD AND ANGSTY IT WILL BE I NEED TO SEE THEM!  I WANT TO SEE SHOTO BE A LITTLE BETRAYED BY THE LYING BUT ALSO COME TO AN UNDERSTANDING THAT DEKU DID THIS TO KEEP EVERYONE SAFE!  I NEED TO SEE BAKUGO WONDERING WHERE HIS DAMN NERD WENT AND MAYBE TRY TO FIND HIM BECAUSE HE WAS THE ONLY OTHER STUDENT WHO KNEW ABOUT OFA!  I KNOW I’M SCREAMING BUT AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!

The final panel takes place in April, about a month after the war started and ended.  We weren’t given a specific timeline in when exactly Deku left UA, but it’s somewhere within that month.  So, does this mean he’s been on his own for nearly a month?  What has he been doing this entire time?

And that final double-page spread...  Good lord almighty.  It shows Deku standing on top of a building looking down at a villain attacking the city.  He’s in his hero costume but it’s all ripped up and worn out (probably what remains of it after the war arc.  I noticed his air gauntlets and arm bracers are gone too after looking at Deku again.  He still has his iron soles for his Shoot Style though).  He has his backpack on him and what looks like the rest of Gran Torino’s cape.  It hasn’t been confirmed if Gran Torino is alive or dead if Deku took his cape, but I can only assume he died based on Deku’s sad face and that there’s honestly no way Torino survived his injuries I’m sorry.  I’d be shocked if he were alive at this point.

And the last panel...  Deku looks so tired.  The light in his eyes is just gone as he says “A big villain” while looking out at the city.  Bringing us back to Chapter 1 of BNHA where one of Deku’s first pieces of dialogue was “A big villain!” while watching it rampage in the middle of the city.  Everything’s come full circle it seems and in the most depressing way possible.  I feel so bad for Deku.  He’s only 16 and even though his will to be a hero is still strong, I feel like a part of him has died honestly.  That childlike hope and innocence he’s shown since the very beginning doesn’t look to be there anymore.  My boy’s exhausted, Horikoshi, please give him a break.  And give yourself one too.

I wonder, if Deku is still doing hero work, but isn’t at UA anymore, does this mean he’s a vigilante?  I know he has his Provisional License, but does that thing even work if you’re not enrolled in the Hero Program you went to?  Because if it doesn’t, then Deku has technically gone full vigilante.  He looks like he’s about to put his bunny mask on in that last panel actually.  His current state of his costume screams vigilante to me even.  I’m really interested in seeing what Deku’s been doing and what he’s going to do now.  We know he left UA to protect everyone he cares about (because OFA is like a beacon to AFO now), but how long is he going to keep this up?  Is he going to run into Bakugo or anyone else in the meantime?  Is he going to run into the vigilantes from the BNHA Spin-off manga (Koichi, Pop-Step, Knuckleduster) or other vigilantes?  Is he ever going to see his friends and mom again?  Will any of our UA kids drop out of the hero course too?  I have so many questions, guys.  I want to go back to high school shenanigans, but that’s clearly not happening soon.     

Finally, the chapter appears to be titled “The Beginning of The End” or “Opening of Final Chapter”.  Ngl, I legit thought that this meant that the series was really ending like Horikoshi talked about in his last interview.  I took that with a grain of salt, but I don’t know anymore.  This could mean an end to the whole “Academia” part of the story.  We might get a big time-skip like Naruto, One Piece, Haikyuu, and a lot of other manga did before it.  I kinda don’t want this to happen because I like seeing characters grow in chronological order and Horikoshi-sensei has been pretty good at twisting the usual tropes, but I don’t know this time guys.  The chapter ends on a good spot to do a big time-skip if Horikoshi wants.  But, honestly, everything’s up in the air right now.  I have so many theories in my head right now about what might happen next.  This is truly some peak fiction though like goddamn.  I really hope this doesn’t mean that we’re reaching the final arc of the series, but if Horikoshi want it to be, then I have no choice but to respect that.  I really hope it isn’t though.

Me after the insanity that was this chapter:  

[marvelhero-fics]

Silent Britain

Series - Chapter One

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: You and Tom are working as love interests in a new Scorsese film, essentially leading to be love interests in real life

A/N: This is technically chapter one! Thanks for all the support on the prologue I'm glad heaps of you enjoyed it! I also wasn’t really planning on doing a taglist for this fic but a lot of people requested to be on it so I ended up making one (it’s below the cut at the bottom). If you’d like to be on it just send me a message or leave a comment on pretty much any Silent Britain post. Thanks for the support again!!!!!!

This chapters a bit of a slow-burn but next chapter get much more interesting. Please go read the prologue first, this chapter will make much more sense if you do. It’s linked down below in the masterlist. 

The italics in this story are the readers thoughts!

Word Count: 3,800

Silent Britain Masterlist || Full Masterlist 

And there goes the explosion. “I need to pull over. I’m about to have a stroke.”

The next two weeks truly flew by. You were partly happy, because you couldn’t wait to fly out to California and meet everyone, but it did also heighten your nerves. You did as much research as you could about Britain in the 70’s, even taking time to go see your grandparents who were conveniently alive at the time. But, by their description of the decade you could tell they must’ve been on some crazy drug back then, I guess that’s a pretty big tell of what the 70’s were like anyway.

“I promise you’re gonna do such an amazing job, I’m always just a phone call or text away if you need me, (Y/N/N).” Evie sung, pulling you into the tightest embrace.

“I know, Eve. I’m gonna miss you so much.” You pouted. To make life a little easier for yourself, you’d decided to fly out to California and stay there until production started, which was set to be in about a month. That way you didn’t have to fly there, then home, then there again, considering it was a twelve hour flight, and God, you hated flying.

“You are going to be incredible, my darling girl.” Your mum stated, giving you a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She knew she wouldn’t be able to see you for a while so she’d come over to send you off.

“Thanks mum. I love you heaps and I’ll call you when I get there.” You were incredibly close with your mum. She had always been such a huge support system for you and your career, you always credited any success you had to her.

And with that, you were in the car being driven to the airport.

~

The twelve hour flight had taken your physical and mental battery down to about 0. Even up in First Class all you did was read your script over and over, and panic. As well as getting some time to watch The Departed, one of Scorsese’s incredibly well done films. Unfortunately, instead of enjoying it, you essentially studied it. Fortunately, you got to use your ‘Taxi Driver’ notebook. Is this slightly obsessive? You studied how DiCaprio and Nicholson delivered their lines, and how often the sets changed, and all the camera angles. God, you’re purposely trying to freak yourself out now.

Touching down in California was nice. The first thing you really noticed was the heat. It was July, so it was the middle of summer, and in California it got hot. Of course, you weren’t complaining, this meant nice air conditioning on set, as well as good weather to work with in production. Yea, that would be the only thing I think about.

An older looking gentleman stood at the arrival gate with a sign that read (Y/L/N) in bulk letters. You quickly went over to greet him. Lazily, you strolled out to the large SUV, trying to get as much time on your feet as possible after the long flight. You’d seen photos, and heard horror stories of actors being mobbed at airports, with fans even waiting at the arrival gates all day to catch a glimpse of their favourite celebrity. That never happened to you, but you tried to be much more thankful than jealous. Large crowds weren’t really your forte.

“How was your flight, Miss (Y/L/N)?” Your driver politely asked, turning on the engine of the car.

“It wasn’t too bad. It just felt super long,” you chuckled, sluggishly.

“Well, at least you’re back on solid ground now.” He smiled through the rear-vision mirror.

“Yea, very happy to be. Out of curiosity, are you picking up any other members of the cast?” You peered up, knowing this man likely worked for the studio.

“Indeed, I am. I picked up Jude Law yesterday morning, and Daniel Craig and Rachel Weisz last night.” He responded,

“Huh, and what’re they like?”

“Well, Mr Law was very friendly, we ended up chatting most of the way to the hotel. And Mr Craig and Mrs Weisz seemed lovely, but I didn’t talk with them very much. They were a little more closed off.” He continued, you simply nodding to his words, “And I believe I’m picking up a Mr Holland much later tonight.”

“Oh, right. Busy day for you then.”

“Well, it’s just the usual.” And with that, you stopped talking. Your mind wandered off the small talk. God almighty, it’s gonna be a fucking long night tonight. You thought, simply just processing all the things you knew you had to organise before tomorrow. The ride to the hotel didn’t seem like a very long one, or maybe it was? Maybe you’d zoned out to an entire different reality and didn’t notice time passing, either way you made it to the Four Seasons and checked in with no trouble at all.

It was pretty much exactly what you’d expect from the Four Seasons. A small, spacious living area, with a large, grey L-shaped couch, and a big-screen TV. A small kitchen to the left, that you’re sure wouldn’t be able to make more than a bowl of pasta. A bedroom off in a separate room, with a bed that was far too big for one person. And an Asylum-white bathroom with a bathtub that was going to make your stay here much better. Looks like this is home for the next month. Being apart of the Hollywood scene, you got kind of used to hotel rooms becoming a second home. The amount of time you spent essentially having to tour around California for filming, staying in different hotels with similar-looking hotel rooms just became second nature.

First point of action; now that you’d touched down and gotten comfortable, was to call your mother. She’d slowly figured out how to worry less about you, now that you were older and had figured your life out a bit more, but she was still always going to be a mother.

The phone only rang twice before she picked up. “Hey, mum.” You greeted,

“Hi, love! I’m glad you’re safe and well, how was your flight?”

“Long. But the hotel’s really nice.” You responded, letting your body fall back onto the king-sized bed.

“Did you watch any movies?”

“Yea, I watched The Departed.”

“Oh, that’s a bit of a grim film, love.” Your mum stated, being as motherly as ever.

You chuckled a bit, “wait until you see the film I’m about to be in.”

“Did you get any sleep on the plane? And how was the food?”

“Yea, the food was really nice, it was like a salmon and couscous thing. And no, I didn’t really get any sleep, but I didn’t really try too, I kinda had a lot of other things to do.” You spoke.

“Well, you need to make sure you get some sleep tonight. And you let me know if you need anything at all!” Your mother conveyed

“Thanks, mum. And I promise everything is going fine, I’m fine. And I’ll let you know how the cast meet up and rehearsals go.” You returned. And with her best wishes, your mother hung up. That left you lying there, your body slightly sunken into the soft mattress of the Four Seasons bed. Almost every celebrity you’d met had told you to not search your own name on the internet. They always told you you’d find some very unfavourable things, but if you didn’t go looking for it you wouldn’t find it. So with that excellent mentality, you searched your name.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N). It took only seconds to type and click enter. The first article talked about the upcoming film. I guess the news already broke. It was probably leaked purposely for publicity, you didn’t care either way.

Upcoming Scorsese Film to have Star-Filled Line Up, Signing Hopkins, Hardy, Bale, and (Y/L/N). Being called a star was quite nice. It always shocked you just a little bit, knowing that people knew your name. Knowing that you’d actually become news. This is what you’d wanted for a long time though, to be a movie-star. You read further into the article.

‘Scorsese’s latest film to centre around 1970’s British Mob family, the Bakers. No news on the initial release date, however official members of the cast include Tom Hardy, Anthony Hopkins, Christian Bale, and (Y/N) (Y/L/N).’ The article showed photos of the four of you, including a photo of Scorsese. At least they picked a nice picture.

‘If this mobster film is anything like we’ve seen in the past from Scorsese, we can expect a stunning and vivid look at the ugliness and volatile nature of true Gangster films. Potentially even a few Academy Awards if Scorsese continues his war-path of masterly crafted cinema.’ You even chuckled at that last line, the Academy Awards. You’d attended the Emmys last year and that was the highlight of your life. If you were at the Oscars you’d probably spontaneously combust. You flicked your phone off and threw it to the other side of the bed, lying patiently in the quickly setting Californian sun. Am I supposed to feel this overwhelmed? You simply sat with your thoughts for a few moments, knowing that nothing was going to be the same after this film. Martin Scorsese essentially started Robert De Niro’s career in Taxi Driver, same with Jodie Foster. Not to mention Al Pacino’s career starting in a 70’s gangster film too. Each of these actors now being multi-award winning, millionaires. I don’t think I could function being that famous.

Once you’d finished basking in the glory and horror of it all, you sorted out your clothes from all of your luggage, and headed to bed. It was probably still too early to be in bed, but you’d had no sleep on the flight and just wanted to rest, especially for the chaos of tomorrow.

~

That all-too-familiar noise of your phone alarm ripped you back into consciousness. Surprisingly, you’d slept like the dead last night. You thought the panic and nerves would’ve kept you up, or disrupted your sleep, but thankfully it was actually very peaceful. Wonder how long that’s gonna last. Everything you did during the morning was mechanical. Having a shower, getting dressed, doing your hair and make-up. It was all just simply going through the motions while your mind ticked away. You tried to remember every part of the script, while also going over today’s encounters. Am I supposed to act like a fan of these actors? Or do I act super cool? Like I don’t care?

Your gaze rested upon your figure in the mirror. Wearing a casual pair of jeans, a regular t-shirt, with your favourite Nikes. Along with bits and pieces of jewellery that fitted. Do I look too plain? Like one of the million assistants on set? Was everyone else going to be dressed up? What sort of cast meet up is this? It was 9:00 am, so regardless of your racing thoughts, you didn’t have any time to change. You grabbed your hand-bag, script, and note-book and went downstairs to get into the car the studio had sent, and with that you were on the long drive to set. Neither you or the driver talked to each other, you partly blamed yourself for not initiating conversation. Your mum would’ve been upset with you. ‘No matter how famous you get, my darling, you’re not allowed to look down on others. You can never think of yourself as better than others. You’ll always be a regular person, who makes mistakes, and does great things. Always, always be kind.’ She’d always lecture you. God, you’d kill to have your family here with you.

The SUV pulled up to the lot, getting access to the private area where the meet-up was happening. You made sure to thank the driver before you met up with a shorter, plumper lady, who obviously seemed like she was expecting you by her greeting.

“Welcome to the studio, (Y/N). My name’s Angela, I’m the production manager for Silent Britain.” She spoke, the Californian accent very prominent in her voice.

“Nice to meet you.” You responded,

“It’s nice to meet you too, if you could just follow me, I'll take you to the room where everyone’s meeting.” She said with a smile.

“Sounds good.” Angela walked you to the huge garage-type room. Well, it wasn’t actually a room, it was just an empty stage on the lot. The 12 ft tall garage-like door was open to let natural light illuminate it. It was full of people, most of whom you’d never seen in your life. Everyone from the special effects men, to the boom mic operators, to the assistant director were packed in. Luckily it was a huge area. Angela told you to follow her further, taking you to a separated room down the other end of the stage. This was the room full of actors. God, we’re pretentious. Needing a whole other room to ourselves. Not only did it have the main actors, it had quite a few background actors. Which, admittedly, you were slightly thankful for. If it was just the main actors you’d be the least famous person in the room, and that’s never the best feeling.

Angela let you know that the meeting would be happening very soon. By meeting, she essentially meant the presentation about the film, and how production was going to work and such. And with that flow of information, she left. Leaving you to fend for yourself in a room full of actors.

Who the fuck am I supposed to talk too? Why does everyone seem to know someone already? “Hiya!” A loud, high pitched noise rang behind you. You turned on your heel to see a slightly shorter girl with long, wavy brunette hair.

“Hi?” You returned, not sure if she was mistaking you for someone she knew.

“I’m Allison.” She introduced, extending her hand out.

“Oh, right. I’m (Y/N).” You smiled back, shaking her hand.

“Yea, I’ve actually seen you in quite a few films before. It’s really nice to meet you.”

“Wow, I’m really not used to actually being recognised.” You somewhat laughed, feeling some of the tension leave your shoulders.

“You’re playing the lead role in this film though, aren’t you?” She queried.

“Yea, Elizabeth Baker. I’m still not entirely sure how I landed that. Do you mind if I ask who you’re playing?” You responded.

“Of course! I’m playing Donna, which is one of Lizzie’s school friends.” She explained. It was only a very minor role, with maybe one line of dialogue. But she seemed happy enough to be here.

“Oh, well, thanks for introducing yourself. Now I’ll finally know someone on set.” You joked.

“Do you not know the other actors already?”

“Honestly, no. I haven’t really had the chance to meet anyone yet.”

“You should go over and introduce yourself. You’re the lead role! And maybe you could introduce me to some of them.” She laughed, trying to slightly play off the words she just said. Ah, lovely. Someone trying to use me to their advantage.

“Hm.” You simply smiled. “I think I’ll just grab a coffee first, then maybe I’ll socialise.” You added, taking almost no time to venture away from her.

You moved towards the small tables set up with coffee, tea, water and small snacks. You couldn’t help but notice the divide in the room. There was the big-time actors to one side of the room, and the lesser-known, mainly extras to the other side. You also couldn’t help but notice that you stood on the extras side of the room. In the moment you didn’t particularly care. You spent time fiddling away with the sugar packets, not even making a coffee as you thought about your next move. You needed to go introduce yourself, to at least one person you were going to be acting beside. But who were you supposed to choose? I bet Daniel Craig wasn’t this nervous introducing himself. Fuck, I wouldn’t be if I was James Bond.

Without thinking past James Bond, you walked over to the ‘A-list’ actor area. Fuck it, I’m the greatest. It’s an absolute pleasure to meet me. You repeated, entirely trying to sike yourself up. Daniel Craig, Michael Fassbender, Christian Bale, and Rachel Weisz stood in a small group, chatting amongst themselves. Oh, this is definitely the most threatening group. You thought, diving straight in.

“Hi there,” You interrupted, “I just wanted to introduce myself, I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” You spoke, confidently. Good thing I’m such a good actor.

“Nice to meet you,” Michael responded, his Irish accent thick as he spoke. Daniel, Rachel, and Christian all introduced themselves after, breaking into a conversation about Martin Scorsese.

“I actually haven’t had the chance to meet him. Not properly at least.” You stated, referring back to your audition were you simply spoke in front of him, without him engaging in much conversation.

“He’s great. He’s incredibly intelligent at what he does, but he is really fast paced. He seems to constantly be thinking about the next thing to do.” Daniel began speaking, “But try not to be nervous, he’s pretty good at sensing nerves.” He smirked. Awesome.

“As if the cast wasn’t intimidating enough.” You joked, earning a chuckle from the group. The five of you continued to discuss past acting experiences, and working together on other films and such, with yourself not having much to bring to the conversation. Simply being happy enough to stand with these four god-like actors.

Angela seemingly appeared out of nowhere in front of the crowd of actors, earning a hush amongst the group. She began by thanking everyone for being here, and introducing herself once again as the production manager. She explained the outline of what was going to happen, and when production was due to start, most information of which you’d received in emails earlier. All and all, it was a very quick meeting. I guess it was more about getting to meet everyone. Angela finished her statement and the crowd sparked conversation again, most of the background actors dispersing off. As you were about to say your goodbyes, a smaller, younger gentleman walked up to where you and your newly formed actor friends stood. He handed each of you a small envelope.

“These are from Martin, inviting you to dinner with him tonight. All the information is on the letters. Please RSVP as soon as possible.” He stated, scuttling off to the next group.

“The theatrics,” Christain stated, waving the envelope, “that’s very Scorsese.” He finished.

“Who was that kid?” You asked Michael,

“Would’ve been Martins PA, probably.” He replied, opening his letter. You shrugged and opened yours. The beautiful calligraphy hit you first, each letter individually addressed to each actor. By the looks of it, the main cast of about 12 of you were invited, along with the higher up crew members. It was being held at his property in Hollywood. Well, this should be fun.

“I guess we’ll see you all there.” Daniel stated, earning a cheer of goodbyes from the rest of you as him and Rachel walked off.

“I better head off too,” You smiled, leaving Michael and Christain behind you as you strolled towards the door, continuing to read over your letter. The handwritten note occupied so much of your thought, that you’d forgotten to look where you were walking. All of a sudden, you were stumbling straight into someone's torso. The first sense to hit you was the scent, the only way you could think to describe it was the smell of the wealthy. It was an incredible cologne that you could only imagine A-listers would wear.

“Sorry, love.” His voice sung, the thick British accent very apparent. His larger hands came up to grab your shoulders, steadying your body. His grip was firm against you arms. You could feel the heat of his hands through the thin material of your shirt. You couldn’t help but notice the veins slightly bulging from his tanned forearms. You face moved up so your gaze aligned with his. Brunette curls, light brown eyes, glowing smile, a jawline that looked like it was carved from stone.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was walking.” You awkwardly laughed as Toms taller frame stood right in front of you. Do not freak out.

“Don’t worry about it.” He responded, “I was meaning to come meet you earlier, but I got a little caught up. I’m Tom, by the way.” He added, his grin not leaving his face. Yea, I fucking know.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m (Y/N).” You replied, politely.

“Yea, I’m actually a bit of a fan. I’ve seen some of your work in the past, I’m really glad you got this role.” He added.

“Oh, wow. I thought we we’re going to play it cool, but I’m a huge fan of yours too. I love all the Marvel stuff.” You broke out of your ‘big-time actor’ persona. He chuckled at your comment.

“I see you got an invite, too.” He pointed down at your letter, holding his in his hand too.

“Oh yea. Have you ever done this sort of thing before? Like this whole dinner with the cast thing?”

“Yea, a few times actually. Robert Downey Jr loved doing this stuff for the Marvel cast.” He returned, “with the directors, and the crew and everyone.”

“Right, well I’ve never done all this before. It’s pretty crazy.”

“Yea, I know. The cast of this movie is fucking insane. I’ve never seen so many stars in one room, honestly.” Tom acknowledged. “You seem like you’re holding it all together pretty well.”

“No, I’m just a really good actor, internally I’m absolutely freaking out.” You stated in a joking manner, earning a laugh from Tom. I mean, it’s true.

“That’s great practice for the film them.” He replied, his eyes looking deeper into yours. You could almost feel your knees turning to jelly.

“I’m so sorry to leave you stranded like this, but I really need to get back to my hotel and sort my shit out for this dinner tonight.” You spoke, truthfully.

“Oh, yea. I should probably go do the same. I guess I’ll see you there.”

“Yes, you will. It was really nice to meet you, Tom.” You expressed, your hand moving to rest against his bicep as you cocked your head with a smile. He returned the good-bye and you waltzed out of the stage. Your heart was pumping in your throat and you had to bite down on your lip to suppress your awfully huge grin. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad.

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[charlettebffxiv]

Prompt #4: Saving TIme

Frederick hated the patrol duties that came with being a Guardian of the Archive. Languishing with each step he took between the hundreds of shelves, lined with thousands of books. He’d been forced to stay inside this stone coffin many times during his training and studying. Convinced that, once he’d finished, passing by the very-thin skin of his teeth, it would be nothing but adventure and Guardianship. Chasing thieves through the market, being sent on missions to locate and capture dangerous magic and knowledge for the Archive. But no, the first two months had seen them watching books.

Charlette, on the other hand, enjoyed it. The silence of the library, the smell of the ageing paper, the wiff of a candle long-since burnt out. Frederick found it irritating, he much preferred being teamed up with Alistair on these nights, at the very least he could talk to the other man. With Charlette it was often either long lectures on history or science or whatever the woman had fallen asleep reading the night before. That or awkward silences, something had changed since they’d become full inductees of The Order, not like when they were children attending tutoring or apprentices stuffed into The Barracks. Like they’d forgotten how to simply speak to one another. Which, of course, only made patrol with her even more painful.

“Find anything?” he’d ask through the bookcase they had between them. “Of course not.” she’d say back, the sudden voice from between the books having startled her. “Any… Ixali?” “No” “Any morbals?” “Yes, three.” sarcasm dripping from her tone. “You’d best run. I hear Elzen are their favourite.” “Then you’ve obviously not read enough about them.” He’d roll his eyes, letting out a far-more-audible than needed sigh. The lack of a response from Charlette letting him know she was in ‘ignore the fool’ mode. In other words, Charlette at her most entertaining.

There were three things people knew Frederick for. Being shameless, being quick and being quiet, all the hallmarks of a good troublemaker. And with his heels lifted and his steps long, gentle, slow and quiet, he’d break away from the patrol-path Charlette had laid out for them. Stopping, for a short second, to pull a book out from the shelf, open it to a particular page and drop it on the floor. Then, careful as can be, sneaking into the depths of the Archive, his armour giving off the barest of clanks. “Fred?” she’d ask, turning her head to the side as she heard a book thump to the floor. Up until now she’d assumed he was sulking on the other side of the book case. “Frederick, are you giving me the cold shoulder?” she’d almost reached the end of the aisle, turning around the corner to try and confront the Hyur. She knew he hated these patrols, how he could have thought drudgery would not be a part of their duties she didn’t know, but the man was awfully childish about it. “Fred, come now, I didn’t mean anything by it-...” she’d catch her words before she’d finish, however, as the aisle was decidedly Fred-less. Her ire renewed she’d look around as if hoping the man had tumbled into a stack of tomes or had climbed a bookcase again. But no, he’d abandoned his post and ruined an almost perfect fifteen-in-a-row walk of her patrol-plan. The nerve!

“Fred!?” Charlette hissed-out, still following the libraries rules of silence even at the dead of night where no one would ever be here. Save Charlette and the patrolling guards. No response, she’d walk into his designated aisle, the fact she was forced to leave her post only making the woman more angry. “Frederick van Swart, I swear on my mother’s life if you do not come out right now the Head Archivist will hear of this!” she should have expected that would have no effect, but the fact that the man seemed to not even care for the opinion of the Head Archivist was unbelievable! Noticing the book from earlier, she’d walk over to it, feet stomping on the ground louder than they should. Leaning down to pick it up, her thumb holding the place in the pages as she turned it over and read the cover.

“Time Saving: The Art of Efficiency through Chronomancy.” her eyes going wide, tilting her head head even as moderate panic welled up inside of her. Frederick was no great talent in the aetheric arts but... they’d picked this book up from a merchant that had managed to freeze himself and his caravan in a time-loop of fifteen seconds. They still had him and his chocobos, running their repeated gauntlet of motions and words deep in the Archives vault. If that idiot could do so much damage, what could an even greater moron achieve?

“Frederick?!” her voice raised in earnest now, echoing through the vast chamber, a note of panic clear in her tone. Had he really attempted to, what? Fast forward the patrol? Skip the night all-together? Freeze time so he could go for a more entertaining stroll through town and do, goodness knows what? She was pacing, her plated boots clattering against the thin carpet over the stone floor beneath her. “No, he’s not that stupid. He saw the merchant, he’d know… oh gods but it was him that liquefied the bunks in The Barracks that one time. But surely he’d learned his lesson… don’t be daft Charlette, Fred is a disaster in waiting.” she’d make her way down the aisle, turning into the long corridor that ran between the many bookcases and seeing a line of books laying down the path like a line of bread crumbs. Walking forward, she’d pick up the first ‘Herbology and Hellfire: A guide to burning sensations and how to cure them.’ that seemed appropriate for Frederick, the next she retrieved ‘Eating your Weight in Aether: A Gluttons Guide to Cooking with Thaumaturgy’ that was a strange choice, was he just leaving them on the floor as he went? Frederick had no love for books, but no outward disrespect either. The next ‘Lovers Touch: Enhancing Lust with Arcanism’ “Oh gods, I hope he’s not read this one.” and finally, ‘Preparing for Pustules: Beginners Study in Apothecarium.’ She’d hold the four tomes, stacked in her arms in front of her before turning to put them on a nearby reading desk.

“Frederick, come now! This is not funny anymore. We’ve work to do!” still nothing, it was in the back of her mind constantly. The man, no, the boy is playing a trick on her, but she couldn’t beat down the worry in her gut. There were untold horrors on these shelves, mixed in with some of the most inane reading she’d ever found. Someone like Frederick could have simply misinterpreted something as innocent and, become stuck between realities or something. “We need to be more careful with these fucking books!” it was, a rare and exciting occurrence for Charlette to curse out loud. Frederick would be laughing, wherever he was. Looking back at the books she’d thump a hand on the table in frustration, the stack toppling over and falling across the table, sliding over each other until they fanned out like the cards in a deck. And she saw it. The first letter of each book spelled out one word. “H.E.L.P.” and over the edge she went.

Charlette’s panic came with several qualities. Internal strife as she wrestled with whether to handle this personally or alert someone at a higher level. Often accompanied with pacing and wild-mumbling to herself. Then, anger, as she yelled and implored at the people either around her or hopefully still on this plain of existence, begging them to ‘follow rule and reason’. To, lastly, cold determination as she once again took on the responsibility of saving the idiots that surrounded her. She’d hit that final level, coming to a decision that she’d bite the bullet and speak to the Head Archivist, implore him for help to retrieve her lost companion. “Frederick, you brilliant fool, however you did this I’m not going to leave you like that merchant!” turning on her heel she’d stomp, half jog, down the corridor leading to the libraries exit. 

Her footfalls, loud and easy to track, gave Frederick the measure he needed. The man had been busy, between doubling over in laughter at Charlette’s panic, and setting up the story for her to discover her colleagues ill-fated idea. Now, he stood on a stack of books, that lay on the seat of a chair, at the perfect height to turn into the corridor and give the tall Duskwight the eye-level scare he’d been working up to. Stomp, stomp, STOMP. She was close, closer and close enough! Frederick swinging out from around the bookcase and yelling at the top of his voice

“MORBOL- OOF!” he’d scared her, alright, Charlette letting out an almighty “WAAAH!” and decking the man right in the face with a plated fist, hard as she could. He went flying back, toppling over his makeshift perch and landing hard on his buttocks and back. The wind knocking out of him as one hand flew up to hold his nose, wheezing to catch his breath, the other cupping his butt cheek as it stung with the pain of his landing. Panicked and confused, Charlette quickly lunged around the bookcase and gave him another kick in the shins as her anger flared, the poor Hyur rolling on the floor, arching his back as he put too much weight on his burning backside. “You awful, horrid, unbearable TWIT!” Having figured out what had happened, she’d shout at him, frustrated with his antics. “I thought you’d trapped yourself in time! Did you lay these? Ooh, you laid these out for me to find!” she was pacing again, even as Frederick writhed on the floor, trying to stem the blood rushing to her head as she desperately wanted to hit him again. Frederick, holding his nose to stop the blood now leaking from his bruised nostril, had gotten his breath back though. “You, you punched me! What’s wrong with you!” his muffled voice obviously incensed by the fact she’d decked him over a prank! “It was a joke! Gods, Charlette, you’re an animal, I could’ve broken my back!” he’d sit up, immediately regretting it as his tailbone screamed at him. “Powers above! My backside, I think it’s broken. I think you broke my arsebone!” she’d lean down, pulling his hand away from his face. He was bleeding but it was not broken. “I’m sorry, but you gave me such a fright. And look at what you were standing on, you idiot. You might as well have been balancing on a pole stuck up your arse.” he’d stop his complaining, looking at her, pointing a finger as a sudden, slightly bloody but no less bright smile broke across his flinching features. “You swore. Twice! I heard you!” and so he chuckled, a hearty, victorious laugh as if he’d won some great game by toppling onto his backside and nearly having his nose broken. She’d laugh too, shoving his chest, which caused him to yelp out and shift to the un-bruised cheek. This only made her laugh harder, the haze of rage clearing enough that she’d lean forward to hug the man, tightly. Oh, she was still angrily with the little shit but, in all honesty, glad he was alright. Glad he was here and not trapped between timelines.

And while neither of them had saved any time at all, they’d spent enough of it to quickly make it a short patrol. One they’d never forget.

[velcro-rave]

post-emoji movie Trauma

WARNING: the following text contains spoilers and can be considered disturbing to some readers. especially my brain, because it’s leaking out my ears after typing this.

This is the first movie ever I’ve gone to see on opening night. And let me just say that, for the record, I’m glad I went to watch with friends. Without them, I would have most likely calmly exited the room, climbed up to the roof, and dived straight off.

I’m honestly fucking terrified of how much this shitty movie has pushed me to the edge. I’ve never felt more ANGRY in my life and at the same time wanted to just curl up in a ball and cry myself to sleep. This is so fucked up. What made it possible for this level of psychological warfare to be used so casually by Sony? Why did they decide this was ever a good idea to present to the public? I’m still shaking (and not from the overpriced Coca-Cola I was sold). Whether it’s out of rage or fear, I don’t know. Not even throwing myself into the deep fires of hell can attempt to restore the intrinsic warmth I felt before I witnessed this crime of a movie. They say that there’s a special place reserved below for people who cause enough pain to humanity, and it is at this point where I pose this question to the following:

Tony Leondis. Eric Siegel. Mike White. Michelle Raimo Kouyate.

Why?

Did you want this to happen to me? Was this the plan all along? To destroy everything you could possibly love in the process of creating this film, to make the audience suffer without any remorse? You got PATRICK FUCKING STEWART as a voice actor, and what is it you do?

Yeah, you make him play A WALKING PILE OF SHIT!!!!

Someone could’ve ran up to me after I left the theater, put a shotgun directly up to my forehead, pulled the trigger, and that would have still not come close to how much my mind had been blown at the shocking reality that this movie, this spawn, could exist in the known universe and continue to be shown to innocent people. There were kids there. Hopeful, happy, young kids with iPhones who thought it was a great idea to head off to the movies and watch a funny relatable movie about emojis without a care in the world. Communicating ideas without the use of words is the “staple” of their generation, as the movie so proudly portrays (even comparing it to ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics!), and there’s no reason a family shouldn’t agree to bring their children to this beautiful, heartwarming adventure, right? WRONG.

Nothing could have prepared me for the horrific amount of groan-worthy jokes this movie tossed out. I’ve been wracking my brain for an entire hour trying to remember the most potent ones, but they were so easily forgettable that I can only recall a few offhand. They were tragic. Whenever an opportunity for a shitty pun showed itself, you can bet your ass the writers took it and ran with it to lengths beyond the realms of humor. From the character known as Hi-5′s nonchalant Bye Felicia! to his two puns about snapping (as if one wasn’t enough), I wanted to get up and scream at the ceiling in the hopes that my cries of agony would disrupt the structural integrity of the building and have it fall on top of me, finally freeing me from the slow-cooker of torture that is The Emoji Movie.

At a certain point, Hi-5 (by the way James Corden, I thought you were cool. I thought you were here for us, for all of us as an entertainer, but you just had to take part in ruining me and the world as we know it by accepting this role. I will never forgive you.) mentions something about his heart beating. His… heart? This walking, talking hand has a heart? Does he have lungs? What other internal organs could fit in there and be capable of being slapped around constantly as a result of his stupid ass decisions? Why doesn’t he have arms like Gene or Jailbreak, does his body somehow take into account that he’s already a living appendage? This movie is making me sit and contemplate the anatomy of a fucking animated HAND, and that’s not even as preposterous as a thought can get while watching.

On multiple occasions throughout my viewing experience, I had to take a break to just lean back and sigh, both in anguish of what was happening onscreen as well as the sheer exhausting aspect of it all. The voice acting couldn’t have been more unreliable. Every other line it was a gamble between it being a poorly executed pun delivered so flatly that not even the 4-year old up front let out a little giggle, an obvious statement about what they’re planning to do next, or the most unremarkable snippet of backstory ever revealed. I’m sure all those scenes between Gene and Jailbreak where they gaze at each other were meant to be construed as romantic, but her blasé response to each of his approaches because she “isn’t some princess waiting for her prince” or how “women are deserving of more respect” completely knocked the mood off whatever pedestal it was stepping up to. I get it, these are actual important themes that need to be recognized, and I would be more than happy to see this acknowledged in a movie built on as many metaphors as Zootopia, but the timing of her commentary was the worst I’d ever seen. The constant interruptions made it seem like her words shouldn’t be taken seriously at all!

Unsurprisingly, character background was virtually (unintentional pun. I’m incredibly sorry.) nonexistent, and everything that’s possible to be wondered about the universe could pretty much be answered with a big shrug. For example, why does Hi-5 have a band-aid? Did he get stabbed or something? When did Gene begin to show signs that he was capable of other emotions? Was the Just Dance girl deleted after the trash bin emptied itself out? We didn’t see any signs of the characters going back for her after Hi-5 had to shake off the troll, so did they just leave her there to die? If Jailbreak had been working for a long time to get out, why didn’t she use more of her hacking skills? She pulled up her hologram window things maybe three times total to escape or hide somewhere, does she seriously not have anything else in her repertoire that could potentially help Gene and Hi-5 get to where they need to be quicker? There’s so many questions that don’t even get passively explained. Then again, I’m arguing against the same people who genuinely advocated for the setting to be called Textopolis.

AND WHOSE FUCKING IDEA WAS IT TO MAKE THE MAIN CHARACTER “MEH”??

The ONE emoji with zero interesting qualities and the most monotone parents that, for some fucking batshit insane reason, were given more than the minute of screentime they deserved. I understand for a quick gag, their emotionless response to everything could be funny, but their conversations would just stretch on and on and on. As for Gene, I trusted you, T.J. Miller. I can’t believe you betrayed me, especially after such a hilariously perfect role in Deadpool. Never in my life have I felt so disappointed in a single person. There is no justifiable reason for you to be proud of what you’ve done here. To be honest, I’m pretty sure I astral projected at least three times as I struggled to repress the memory of this trainwreck before it even ended. When I wasn’t desperately clawing at the armrests mid-convulsion, I was staring vacantly at the center of the screen, wondering how this week could have gone so wrong.

This was basically a 91-minute long advertisement. The whiplash of traveling between product placement to product placement nearly made me throw up, which was ostensibly the only thing that could’ve made this worse. Dropbox, Spotify, Candy Crush, Just Dance, YouTube, Facebook, and the almighty Twitter, I hope you’re happy with what you’ve wrought. The “emoji-pop” dance assaulted my eyes so suddenly, acting as the unnecessary cherry on top of the feel-good ending; I think that’s when I officially lost all hope in enjoying the rest of my night.

It’s honestly taking every ounce of my being to hold onto the little bit of life that I have after the Emoji Movie ripped my soul to shreds. The amount of violation I felt as my ears were subjected to endless pop culture references that were relevant years ago, nightmarish depictions of the content of each app on Alex’s phone, and the fact that the god damn Eggplant was in the Unused Emojis room when everyone knows that’s not the case is indescribable. I now have to live with the fact that every time I switch keyboards on my phone, those blank yellow faces will serve as a dark reminder of what I’ve gone through. To any of you reading this that have also watched The Emoji Movie, I am so sorry. I know how difficult it is to process. My recommendation to each and every one of you who haven’t had the chance to witness this sickening spectacle is to KEEP IT THAT WAY. Don’t give in to the peer pressure; this abomination parading itself around as an endearing motion picture will wholly and truly rattle you to the core. My only solace was the complete absence of dabbing or whipping (apart from hearing the song), and I’d like to thank every deity above and below for that small act of mercy.

Here’s to you, Sony. Thanks for ensuring that I not only sink deeper into my depression, but for forcing my mind to house the images I’ve seen today for as long as I live. I wish I could physically bring myself to chuck my phone in a garbage fire, but my entire body has gone numb. Here’s to you, and to all the writers, producers, and directors of this movie that made me sit in a corner pondering how I can possibly live in a future where this monstrosity exists.

Gravely, sincerely,

fuck you, and goodnight.

🖕

[thetakenpokemon]

The Visions of Sorrow [Part Four]

His tale is nearing its end, Zen’Ro.

...

...

...

...

Witness.

[PoV: Zen’Ro]

The Vex.

From what I’ve gathered from these visions, the Vex is a collective of machines that all share one mind.

Yet these minds are...separated into sub-minds, each with a purpose to follow a particular task. The goal of the Vex is to spread their structure and guarantee their existence, through construction and conversion.

Certain minds are given a greater task to direct the sub-minds, these minds are called Axis Minds.

...

They simulate every scenario, their minds so vast that they can create simulations of perfect fidelity and predictive ability...thus able to replicate every scenario and know how to end victorious before it even occurred.

This is the Vex.

They are spread across time, embedding themselves into both reality and time itself.

They are builders.

Yet...something changed them.

...

...

...

...

...

The Vex initially did not understand the space they had entered. Oryx’s Throne World was defined by the physics of Sword Logic, therefore it left all of the Vex’s constructions and efforts twisted and deranged. This confused the Vex.

Crota vowed to cut down all of the Vex, to exterminate them from this world.

Yet before he could cut away the invaders, the Vex summoned an Axis Mind. The name of the Axis Mind was Quria, Blade Transform.

Quria quickly deduced the Sword Logic. ‘I have to kill everything.’ Quria resolved. ‘Then I will be powerful.’

From the gate many warrior Vex were summoned and were set upon Oryx’s spawn, both Ascendant and not.

Quria and the Vex had killed two thousand of Oryx’s Acolytes and ten thousand Thrall, thus in the ways of Sword Logic they had established themselves as powers in this world, by right of slaughter.

Ir Anûk ordered Crota to close the wound, to prevent the Vex from reinforcing themselves. Before Crota could seal the gate, Quria teleported to the other side and built a holdfast to keep the gate open. Quria’s objective was to exploit the paracasual physics of Oryx’s Throne World and become divine, and thus it organized a series of test invasions.

For a hundred years within the Throne World the siblings fought the Vex. When the Vex came to the sword world, they were inevitably annihilated. But when the Hive went to the Vex World, they lost too much of their power to win.

No side was nearing victory, for it was a standstill.

‘Father’s going to eat our souls.’ Ir Halak sighed to Ir Anûk, she knew that he will not be pleased to find his Throne desecrated by these machines.

Quria captured some worm larvae and began to experiment with them. Soon Quria, Blade Transform manifested religious tactics. By directing worship at the worms, Quria learned it could alter reality with mild ontopathogenic effects. Being an efficient machine, Quria manufactured a priesthood and ordered all of its subminds to believe in worship. Then it set itself about, abducting and killing dangerous organisms so it could bootstrap itself to godhood.

For some Vex reason, Quria never attempted to introduce worm larvae into their mind fluid - their core that which is filled with a white liquid that is the source of their intelligence.

Savathûn was laughing, for she had tricked Crota. Before he had cut the wound that summoned the Vex he had communed with his sisters, and the cunning Savathûn subtly gave him a push toward this direction that brought these invaders.

All this chaos within the Throne World, it drew the attention of the Worm God known as Eir.

‘ORYX!’ It called. ‘SET YOUR HOUSE IN ORDER!’

...

...

...

...

Oryx rushed back to his Throne, by reading the Tablets of Ruin he Took many of the Vex within it, thus pitting them against one another. Quria attempted to fight against Oryx using a wide array of strategies, but was unable to fend off the Taken King, thus meaning that the Vex were dispelled.

With the task done Oryx thought that he should study geometry, like the Vex. It was the map of perfect shapes. But first he had to punish imperfection.

‘My son,’ Oryx said. ‘this is your punishment. Come home glorious, or die forgotten!’

With that Oryx grabbed Crota by the legs and threw him into the Vex Gate Network.

Left to his fate, Crota battled through history, becoming a legendary demon. In his early centuries he often spared a few victims to hear oaths and protests against his father. Later, he came to understand Oryx, and he made temples and monuments wherever he went.

Meanwhile, Oryx brooded on the Vex. ‘I’ve met a worthy rival,’ He said. “They want to exist forever, just as I do. But I don’t understand them.’ At this his worm chewed on him, for he was bound to understand.

So he made a decision, and thus called Savathûn to meet in the material world.

She told him that the Vex worked tirelessly to understand everything, so that they could build a victory condition for every possible end state of the universe.

‘Then I must be a better king,’ Oryx mulled. ‘if they want to build an emperor for all outcomes, then I will be the king of only one. I will follow the Deep wherever it goes, and document its power. Let us create a catalog of the grave of worlds, which will be our map to victory.’

Oryx knew that all life could be described as cellular automata, except for that life which understood the Deep or the Sky, and thus escaped causality.

Out of love for her brother, which was the same as the desire to kill him, Savathûn leaked a secret to Xivu Arath.

‘Listen, Xivu, Oryx’s Throne World has been compromised.’ She whispered. ‘You can cut your way in from here.’

Xivu Arath used this to plan an ambush.

But Oryx was too canny. The Taken King said to his Court, the High War, ‘My Throne World is vulnerable. I am going to move it.’

‘Where?’ Asked Kagoor, World Render.

‘Into a mighty Dreadnaught,’ Answered Oryx. ‘I shall keep my glorious mind cosmos inside a titanic warship.’

Using the remains of the Worm God Akka, the Hammer of Xivu Arath in which he stole, and the Scalpel of Savathûn in which he took, Oryx crafted his Dreadnaught. With the power of the Tablets of Ruin and the combined strength of his Court, he pushed his Throne World inside out till it bled into the material space of the Dreadnaught.

They were coterminous and allied, his ship and his sin. The Dreadnaught was within the Throne of Oryx, but the Throne of Oryx was the Dreadnaught.

This required a verse from the Tablets of Ruin. This was a day of joyous violence, and all of Oryx’s broods marked this holiday as Eversion Day, which is celebrated by turning things inside out.

Oryx made a declaration to his followers, he christened his ship and called for tribute to be brought to him.

He did this for his Throne was safe from incursion, because it moved so nimbly.

...

With his Dreadnaught he sought out the Nicha Thought-Ship, guarded by the powerful fleet known as the Harmonia Flotilla Invincible, which belonged to the alien race Harmony.

When the Flotilla surrounded his Dreadnaught, Oryx put his sword into the hull, channeling the power of the Deep - as well as the power of the Oversoul that his daughters developed - to push his Throne World into mere reality.

By wrath and confidence he filled the space with an egg of his Throne, it swelled like a ghost star that smashed the Harmonia Flotilla Invincible.

With his power, Oryx broke the last word off their name.

The enemy fleet broken, Oryx boarded the Thought-Ship, for he believed that it contained knowledge on the location of the Gift Mast. The Gift Mast was a contraption left by the Traveler, to grant the Harmony sustainable Light for them to thrive. Oryx wanted to eat it.

But little did he realize that the Thought-Ship was a trap.

When Oryx expelled the Vex from his Throne, Quria survived.

And so Quria, Blade Transform had set an ambush for Oryx within the Thought-Ship.

...

Quria attempted to observe, analyze, simulate, and mimic Oryx. It attempted to do so, to give it knowledge on how to defeat him.

Yet it couldn’t do so.

It realized that Oryx was beyond its ability to comprehend, even to a machine connected to minds the size of planets. Because of this it recognized that it couldn’t stand against Oryx’s divine might.

At last, Quria properly accepted that it cannot fully understand the Dreadnaught or Oryx even on religious grounds. As the king cut away all of its subminds, the Axis Mind attempted one last simulation.

It attempted a version of Oryx it knew was wrong, missing his morph, Worm, and powers; A version that it is able to construct. As Oryx moved to finish it, Quria, out of options, fired its weapons on Oryx as a last minute gamble.

 While shooting, the voice of Aurash came out of it, causing Oryx to stop.

‘What are you?’ The not-Oryx asked, its voice having manifested terror and awe.

Oryx’s eyes blazed with a curiosity that is entirely isomorphic with hate, with voracious hunger. ‘Aurash.’ He said. ‘You’ve made me as I was, you’ve made a tiny Aurash!’

Oryx laughed, and so Quria updated the simulation’s name. Aurash is curious: ‘You’re me? You’re me as I become?’ She asked.

Oryx kneeled, his sword, Willbreaker resting on his shoulder. Quria was firing all of its weapons at him, but the king’s wards don’t break. He looks into Quria’s sensors through the onslaught of fire and said: ‘Child, I have everything you wanted. I am immortal. I know the great secrets of the universe. I have scouted the edges of the Darkness and I have chased the lying god down galactic arms in a howling pack of moons. In my fist I carry the secret power that will rule eternity. In my worm I bear the tribute of my Court and my children, the Hope Eater, the Weaver, and the Unraveler; and with this tribute I smash my foes. I am Oryx, the Taken King. I am almighty.’

Quria sampled the Taox intelligence retrieved from the Ecumene gate. There are useful names among then. It feeds them to the simulation.

‘What about my sisters?” Aurash asked her future self. “Sathona? Xi Ro? Are they with you?’

The Taken King’s fangs glinted, his response being that of a laugh.

Quria shut down its weapons, pouring all of its resources into sending a telemetry to the greater Vex. There will be points in space and time where this data is vital. There will be great projects undertaken in the study of this ontological power, this throne-space.

‘Where are my sisters?!’ Aurash shouted at Oryx. ‘Where are my people?! What have you done?!’

But Oryx’s fist was full of black fire. The last Quria saw in its vision before it was Taken was a ‘light like stars’.

...

...

Oryx visited Savathûn, bringing Quria as a gift. The two had prepared for an assault on the Gift Mast, and the Witch-Queen Savathûn’s own fleet had assembled.

Savathûn was skeptical of Oryx’s gift, but Oryx assured her that it’s not a trap. He told her of Quria’s simulations of himself, how it might attempt to simulate her or Xivu Arath. He said that she would find interest in studying it, however he also mentioned that he left some will of its own, so that it might surprise her.

Savathûn jested that it might blow up on her, that it might wreck her realm and summon more Vex, to turn her Throne World into ‘clocks and glass’.

Oryx laughed, telling her that she would deserve her fate if she were to die to Quria.

The discussion between the two veers to their crusade.

“I don’t have a strict proof yet, you know.” Savathûn said, stroking the void with one long claw and space-time groaned beneath her touch. “This thing we believe - that we’re liberating the universe by devouring it, that we’re cutting out the rot, that we’re on course to join the final shape - I haven’t found a strict, eternal proof. We might yet be wrong.”

Oryx looked at her and for a moment, just a moment, he was nostalgic.

He was sentimental.

‘Imagine the years behind us,’ He thought to himself. ‘the things we’ve done. And yet being old doesn’t feel like a scar, does it? It hasn’t left me dull. I feel alive, alive with you, and every time I step back into this world from my throne I feel like I’m two years old again, at the bottom of the universe, looking up.’

But instead he said to her: ‘Sister, it’s us. We’re the proof, we the Hive: if we last forever, we prove it, and if something more ruthless conquers us, then the proof is sealed.’

She looked back at him with eyes like hot needles. ‘I like that,’ She said. “That’s elegant.” Although of course, she had this very thought before.

...

...

The Hive began their attack on the Gift Mast.

Xivu Arath began with a full-scale assault, waging war with the Harmony for fifty years. The Harmony turned to ‘dragon-wishes’ and ‘wishful-bishops’, to directly fight back Xivu Arath in her Throne World, forcing a stalemate.

...

Dragon-Wishes?

There is a name for them...

Yet something...is preventing me from obtaining this name.

An active force behind a sort of...veil...

...

...

Savathûn arrived next, using guile and deception she and her covens infiltrated the Harmony, with the goal of vivisecting the ‘dragon-gods’. For one hundred years, she stayed rooted deep within the Harmony worlds.

...

...

Dragon-Gods?

...

...

Meanwhile, as the main battles raged, Oryx grew broods in hidden areas of the Harmony worlds, safe from detection. Aiding his sisters, and to advance his own forces, he sent meteors raining down on the Harmony worlds in distraction, some containing his own brood among them to see the worlds. At this point war had become routine and efficient

Xivu Arath killed the bishops, and Savathûn achieved her goals, discovering in the process something she did not share with her siblings. The Court of Oryx captured the Gift Mast, driving the surviving people of the Harmony to commit suicide for all hope was lost.

Victory was assured. 

Of the Mast Oryx himself took two out of every five pieces. Each piece was made of the Light and the taste was ecstasy, it gave each partaker renewed sense of purpose.

At the end, Savathûn declared she was leaving, she said they must spend time apart to grow. She flew her fleet into a wound, vanishing. 

Xivu Arath also departed, she said she needed to leave as well, as Oryx overshadowed her. She took her fleet and left.

With his sisters gone, Oryx was left alone.

Left alone with his thoughts.

...

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...

Oryx mused to himself on his current state.

Crota and his Court fed him large amounts of tribute, which gave him time to steal way and further study the Deep. He continued to grow stronger, and strengthen his connection to the Deep as he did. As Oryx reflected, with each gain in power he would use it to learn more secrets; and with each secret mastered comes more power. A circular, self-sustaining loop.

His thoughts moved to his sisters. He wondered what new strength they might have found in their time apart, and questioned if he might have to kill them permanently if they had grown too powerful. He believed the only real relationship that mattered is the attempt to destroy, and commended it. Oryx then thought of his Taken. Against Savathûn's unspoken accusations, Oryx believed Taking brought his victims closer to the Deep, and that it is the will of the Deep to have strong life free of restraints: ‘Existence and uniqueness is the only right, and that nonexistence and sameness is the only wrong, in the end.’

 He affirmed himself as Oryx, the Taken King, and to be anything else would mean his doom and betray his oath.

...

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...

Oryx's thoughts turned back to Fundament. 

He spoke of how he considered returning, to see what had become of his home. 

He then realized he did not need to return because he now embodied it, its hardness and unforgiving scourge, and that is all he needed to know of his home. Questions he once had about the universe he now had the answers to, and he wrote those answers onto books.

He confessed he did not know the true nature of the Darkness or the Light, of who the Traveler is, but he will one day learn. That is his goal and it is his to rule. Forever.

...

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Oryx questioned what would happen if he died permanently.

A valid question, he knew, since his path is to be synonymous with death and run alongside it. He knew it's possible if all of his avatars were killed, he himself pushed into his Throne World, and killed there, and that would prove to be the end of his work.

Every time he used his power he is welcoming death. Only his strength and force of will allowed him to be strong enough to wield the power and keep him from dying. He also noted that he now depended far too much on his children, and if they fell he would be in trouble. If that happened however, he accepted it would be his own fault for having such weak and unprepared children, that his undoing would be of his own making.

He said the only path one could follow is the one that is made by its maker.

And if he were to fail on his path...

...then he would welcome death.

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[sonofhistory]

From Thomas Jefferson to John Page, 25 December 1762

Dear Page,

This very day, to others the day of greatest mirth and jollity, sees me overwhelmed with more and greater misfortunes than have befallen a descendant of Adam for these thousand years past I am sure; and perhaps… since the creation of the world. I think his misfortunes were somewhat greater than mine: for although we may be pretty nearly on a level in other respects… I thank my God I have the advantage… that Satan has not as yet put forth his hand to load me with bodily afflictions. You must know, dear Page, that I am now in a house surrounded with enemies, who take counsel together against my soul and when I lay me down to rest they say among themselves Come let us destroy him. I am sure if there is such a thing as a devil in this world, he must have been here last night and have had some hand in contriving what happened to me. 

Do you think the cursed rats… did not eat up my pocketbook which was in my pocket within a foot of my head?… they carried away my… silk garters and half a dozen new minuets I had just got, to serve I suppose as provision for the winter. But of this I should not have accused the devil (because you know rats will be rats, and hunger without the addition of his instigations might have urged them to do this) if something worse and from a different quarter had not happened. You know it rained last night, or if you do not know it I am sure I do. When I went to bed I laid my watch in the usual place, and going to take her up after I arose this morning I found her, in the same place it’s true but! Quantum mutatus ab illo! all afloat in water let in at a leak in the roof of the house, and as silent and still as the rats that had eat my pocket-book… you know if Chance had had any thing to do in this matter, there were a thousand other spots where it might have chanced to leak as well as at this one which was [directly] over my watch. 

…It’s my opinion that the Devil came and bored the hole over it on purpose. Well as I was saying, my poor watch had lost her speech: I should not have cared much for this, but something worse attended it: the subtle particles of the water with which the case was filled had by their penetration so overcome the cohesion of the particles of the paper of which my dear picture and watch paper were composed that in attempting to take them out to dry them Good God! mens horret referre! my cursed fingers gave them such a rent as I fear I never shall get over. This, cried I, was the last stroke Satan had in reserve for me: he knew I cared not for any thing else he could do to me, and was determined to try this last most fatal expedient. ‘Multis fortunæ vulneribus percussus, huic uni me imparem sensi, et penitus succubui’! I would have cryed bitterly, but I thought it beneath the dignity of a man, and a man too who had read των οντων τα μєν єστιν єϕ᾽ ἡμιν τα δ᾽ουκ єϕ᾽ἡμιν.

However whatever misfortunes may attend the picture or lover, my hearty prayers shall be that all the health and happiness which heaven can send may be the portion of the original, and that so much goodness may ever meet with what may be most agreeable in this world, as I am sure it must in the next. And now although the picture be defaced there is so lively an image of her imprinted in my mind that I shall think of her too often I fear for my peace of mind… 

Well, Page, I do wish the Devil had old Cooke, for I am sure I never was so tired of an old dull scoundrel in my life. What! are there so few inquietudes tacked to this momentary life of ours that we must need be loading ourselves with a thousand more?… Cease then that I may take comfort a little before I go whence I shall not return, even to the land of darkness and the shadow of death.’ But the old-fellows say we must read to gain knowledge; and gain knowledge to make us happy and be admired… Is there any such thing as happiness in this world? No: And as for admiration I am sure the man who powders most, parfumes most, embroiders most, and talks most nonsense, is most admired. Though to be candid, there are some who have too much good sense to esteem such monkeylike animals as these, in whose formation, as the saying is, the taylors and barbers go halves with God almighty: and since these are the only persons whose esteem is worth a wish, I do not know but that upon the whole the advice of these old fellows may be worth following.

You cannot conceive the satisfaction it would give me to have a letter from you: Write me very circumstantially everything which happened at the wedding. Was She there? Because if she was I ought to have been at the devil for not being there too. If there is any news stirring in town or country, such as deaths, courtships and marriages in the circle of my acquaintance let me know it. Remember me affectionately to all the young ladies of my acquaintance, particularly the Miss Burwells and Miss Potters, and tell them that though that heavy earthly part of me, my body, be absent, the better half of me, my soul, is ever with them, and that my best wishes shall ever attend them. Tell Miss Alice Corbin that I verily believe the rats knew I was to win a pair of garters from her, or they never would have been so cruel as to carry mine away. This very consideration makes me so sure of the bet that I shall ask every body I see from that part of the world what pretty gentleman is making his addresses to her. 

I would fain ask the favor of Miss Becca Burwell to give me another watch paper, of her own cutting which I should esteem much more though it were a plain round one, than the nicest in the world cut by other hands: however I am afraid she would think this presumption after my suffering the other to get spoiled. If you think you can excuse me to her for this I should be glad if you would ask her. Tell Miss Suckey Potter that I heard just before I came out of town that she was offended with me about something: what it is I know not: but this I know, that I never was guilty of the least disrespect to her in my life either in word or deed: as far from it as it has been possible for me to be: I suppose when we meet next she will be endeavoring to repay an imaginary affront with a real one: but she may save herself the trouble, for nothing that she can say or do to me shall ever lessen her in my esteem. And I am determined allways to look upon her as the same honest-hearted good-humored agreeable lady I ever did. Tell—tell—In short tell them all ten thousand things more than either you or I can now or ever shall think of as long as we live.

My mind has been so taken up with thinking of my acquaintances that till this moment I almost imagined myself in Williamsburgh talking to you in our old unreserved way, and never observed till I turned over this leaf to what an immoderate size I had swelled my letter: however that I may not tire your patience by further additions I will make but this one more that I am sincerely and affectionately Dr Page your friend and servant,

T: Jefferson

[lukeswife]

1, 7, 11, 17, and 23! Sorry if that's a lot, you don't have to do them if you don't want! But take your time if you do! :)

,,,,,,,,my dude,,,my guy,, theres Nothing to be sorry for ily

1. Favorite Up All Night song? god uhhhhhh imma have to say say I Want or WMYB bc I’m a Nostalgic Hoe

7. Favorite overall 1D group album? i think it’s gonna be Midnight Memories bc the Leak followed by 1D Day and the Bops PLUS it was for that album that I went to WWA and saw them live and cried like a baby

11. Favorite lyric from a 1D song? we all know they have Deep lyrics and Goofy Lyrics and ??? Lyrics and I wanted to say a deep one but I would be Lying my real favorite that I’ve been thinking of getting tattooed for y e a r s is legit ‘Girl Almighty’ and im 20 idc how basic or lame it sounds i WANT THAT TATTOO (but rip I’m too scared of needles and pain)

17. When did you discover 1D? MK so like,,, i Like to tell ppl i discovered them right at the end of x-factor and its not a Total lie?? that is when i first started hearing the name ‘1d’ but the way i first listened to them and liked them embarrassed me too much skdjhfkasj bc i first listened to them when a wattpad fic i was reading had the WMYB video on the side of the story and the rest is history

23. What era of 1D was your favorite? oh Lordy like the entirety of OTRA tbh bc there was always SO MUCH going on and we truly were spoiled w how much the boys were doing??? like the gatorade fights. spaces live. the chonces. harolds boots. we Got So Much?? i really love them y’all 

these were all from here btw 

[herdoir]

A call-out post for myself.

When I was in 9th grade, I was attention-seeking and needed desperately to be validated. I wrote a poem for my Honors English class called “The Other Girls,” in which I noted the actions of those “women” (no matter how men also play into it) that desperately needed validation, which went like this:

I am not like the other girls.

I binge Netflix and enjoy books

because I, deep down, know I am better than those stupid squares

and this is definitely not a vain thing to say.

See, I am not like the other girls.

I eat vanilla ice cream while I spend my day on tumblr since

I am not genuinely fascinating or substantially different.

I have no unique traits, but I pride myself as if I do.

I am not like the other girls at all.

I listen to Halsey, her whale calls echoing my true feelings.

My emotions suffocate around me

so I can get attention for them.

I am the most special snowflake around!

I am not weird, I am quirky on command

as I so vehemently want to be different,

even though I am as much a narcissist as a cynic.

Now, if you know anything about who I was back then, you can easily connect some dots of how I was projecting here. As it stands, though, I believe this poem is a fairly solid commentary for a 9th grader on how teenagers make themselves out to be the “other” for attention even though they’re all the same. That being said, I really should have looked in the mirror before I called people out for this behavior.

When I spoke to my in-group of friends several months after the Summer I Acted Like a Raving Buffoon, I said that it was definitely when I was the most teenage-ry, and I was a teen in spades. I really could do a line-by-line breakdown of how every single line here applied to me, but I don’t think that it’d be the most constructive use of my time.

Instead, I’ll connect how this applies to tumblr culture.

After the poem was publicly read to the class (because they considered it funny haha!), a classmate and I were talking. She said that tumblr culture as a whole made her depressed, and she eventually logged off because of it. She was recommended by her therapist to log off. At the time, I expressed my sympathy, but told her that I didn’t feel that I would experience something like that. I was so wrong. Now, if you recall, there is a part of the poem which reads thus: “My emotions suffocate around me / so I can get attention for them.” This was damn near constant for me in the summer. I was to be the center of attention, and anything that competed with a constant leaf-fanning of Emperor Me on my golden throne was to be eliminated. Everyone considers their old selves to be cringe-y for one reason of another, but I was downright toxic for this. I’d shut down someone I considered a friend for existing; I ruled my discord server with an iron grip because I was rotten from the inside. While this younger me would justify the behavior because I was broken, and I did have legitimate shutdowns in a (now embarrassing) fury, I now realize that these reactions only exacerbated my issues. I was problematic, and I hope that by recognizing what I did wrong, I can be much better as a person today.

Back to tumblr and why I was toxic, though. A post I have reblogged on this account I found through memeufacturing (i know) highlights the issue best:

how long can you keep this up, the gallows humor? how long can you string them along with your smile? at what point will the truth leak out - will you later tell the story of how you cried over spilled milk with a laugh in your throat... how many breakdowns can you follow with a punchline... the joke is “i hate myself”, the joke is “please kill me”, the joke is “god i wish i were dead.

Quite frankly, this post resonated with a me a year ago, and it still does now. Back then, I followed the idea through because I was in a teenage fog of loneliness and a sense of abandonment because of my father, even if I played it off for laughs. It was a call for help, but it’s not like that call matters anyway, because I played it off like a joke where I am the victim in dire need of attention, and by the way the people in my path matter less, unless they’re my favorite, in which case they matter more.

Now that I have shown how my behavior was attention-seeking, I should explain how it truly was toxic. On it’s own, attention-seeking behavior is certainly excusable. People politely asking for hugs and the like is all fine in my book. Likewise, if I had truly listened and knew what my classmate was talking about with her tumblr-induced depression, oh man would I have saved myself. She did the right thing: she got out of it. She checked herself, if you will. I didn’t. Why? Well, that’s a different story.

I never want to defer blame from myself. I am entirely in the wrong for my toxic behavior. That being said, I would like to note how I got there, because it demonstrates why this entire callout post of myself matters. The reason why I was toxic was because I refused to change. I was so stuck in my ways I got defensive when I was called out and made a big huff and puff about how I was really the victim there guys. No matter how much I wanted to be better, I just couldn’t. Why not?

Honestly, I think it’s a combination of tumblr culture as a whole and because the people I looked up to encouraged the behavior. As a larger issue, tumblr culture was to blame. I was taught that my feelings were valid, and people should respect my feelings. I also thought that mental illness does not justify the bad behavior of people. The clash of these ideas and how I dealt with it is outstanding. I was taught that these lapses in being a reasonable human being were okay because gallows humor gets the laughs, and I want attention after all. Not only that, but I also was okay to put my victim self above another person and how they felt. I was a victim. Not only did I really just need someone to treat me like a human being, I also cause so much grief to other people in the process. Deflection, it’s called.

How did other people encourage the behavior? Well, some people who I will lump together justified me time and time again, acting as a passive observer of the calamity I caused. The people tried so hard to help, but they tried too hard to help. I didn’t need help; I needed a reality check. It didn’t help that these people were problematic themselves in different ways, which means it could have been a chicken-or-the-egg debacle where I could have simply overdid the actions of the group. I looked up to these people, whether it be due to a combination of loneliness, virtue signalling, and a clash of what I wanted from people, but also because, and I’m sorry if this sounds preachy, but I felt like there were people, just like me, who were broken souls -- victims I could fix. It was I, the great and almighty One, who could dig into who they were to fix them. I know so many people fall into this hole, but I justified it at the time by saying that it was okay because I knew what I was doing. I did not know what I was doing. In retrospect, they were comfortably sunken 6 inches, and I went 6 feet under. Sure, these people may have occasionally guilt tripped and used mental illness as an excuse, but I took it to such an extreme I was insufferable.

This is not a callout post for them, however. I am in the wrong here, and I most certainly was back then. I acted foolishly because I was lonely and needed validation, and I didn’t know how to respectfully ask for it. This was one of my lesser, but still important, takeaways from this - it’s okay to respectfully ask for validation. I’ve always been pretty averse to PDA because I haven’t had many respectful experiences with it, and while I still don’t fully appreciate it, my opinion is certainly a hell of a lot more nuanced now.

I do not know what part of this connected with you. Maybe it was me acting toxic, and you can see some of that in your former or current self. To you I say that it does not make you a bad person on it’s own. If you make a conscious effort to stay out of the attention trap I fell into, it’s okay. I got caught feeling bad and feeling like it was okay to feel bad. My emotional unrest was not fixed easily, and if I didn’t have my current girlfriend I don’t know if I’d still be in the rut. She taught me to be wrong. It’s okay to ask for help, and it’s equally valid to ask for forgiveness. Maybe you’re the friend, and you wish that your friend would ask for this help and forgiveness. Please give them a reality check. In the summer when one of my friends cut into me for putting her down because I was all “I should be the center of attention I’m valid”, I initially acted in anger. How dare she be a reasonable human being, with wishes and desires to be respected? After that, I reacted not with bargaining or denial, but with a sort of cold half-assed acceptance, I’ll be honest. I was not good when I was like that, and it was my fault. Luckily, I at least said I was wrong and took some humility, which honestly helped me to act like a mature human being instead of a shriveled impoverished raisin who needs constant winds from the Gods to function. Finally, I would like to talk to those who know me personally. If you’ve read this far then I hope you know that I truly do apologize for how I acted, and I’m sorry I put you through the giant pity parties of despair and tragedy.

Don’t tolerate constant gallows humor. It only perpetuates attention-seeking victim-hood, and it left me in a rut which I bitched and moaned about having to leave. I would like to end on this: People are flawed and emotional, and on it’s own that’s okay. When their emotions cause people to behave with toxicity like I did last year, the problem arises. If someone you know acted or still acts like I did or worse, please help them. They’re validated by misery, and their resistance to be pulled out from their equally miserable rut only highlights how badly they need it.

Please accept that you can be wrong.