#i dont have much practise writing these two | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

satoruhour · 9 months

Note

Helllooo!!!! I hope you're doing well<33 I'm not sure if you're taking requests so this can be taken as a random rant as well. (I'm in my exam week-depressed-stressed era lol) but is it just me Or the animated version of choso and the mans voice actor just doubled his hotness!?? Hence why me is here to ask if you could do a choso street racer au, could be anything from him meeting at a race or him taking them drifting? Idk but I just need more racer choso au's😭😭😭

LUCKY DIME

a/n: oh no my love i hope your exams went well and that you’re resting comfortably now ❤️ OFCCCC i planned to write a racer!choso for so long i just didnt have any motivation / tagging @screampied

wc: 3k

warnings: racer!choso, reader is ‘dating’ a weirdo, fem!reader, threat of sexual assault (from weirdo guy), threatening harm, flashback, unsafe driving tendencies (dont follow them in this fic lol pls drive safely), semi-public sex (parking lot), car sex, slight nipple play, oral (f! receiving) / cunnilingus, fingering, finger sucking, implied multiple rounds and p -> v sex later on, n*sfw under the cut

choso hasn’t always been open about his origins — moving from the shimotsuma district to shibuya just two years ago in need of quick cash to send back to his struggling mother. it was a hard decision on both ends, with his mother advocating more for him to leave for a better life than the one she could offer. he acquiesced with a promise to earn enough to send back to her every month in return for the secret stash she provided for him and that promise meant everything. he was going to get money no matter what.

even if it meant meddling with the local yakuza, doing petty little tasks of collecting money, escorting the people important to the oyabun to their meeting places, being on lookouts while gambling and prostitution happens indoors. choso would never write back to his mother on what he’s been doing to get so much money, but if he’s able to send a hefty amount back to her on every 29th, he’s satisfied.

that is until he’s met with a couple arguing as they walk along the alleyway, creating such a ruckus that choso’s sure they could power the whole of shibuya — well, more of the man, anyways, saying something about racing and cars that he’s not even sure he catches on.

“well, if you just listened to her and opted for a flat-plane rather than use a cross-plane, maybe you wouldn’t have lost the race!” you’re throwing your hands up, struggling to walk behind in these new heels you bought while you navigate the dark alleyway. for a boy who’s expressed interest in you, he wasn’t doing well in trying to keep you one bit. you’d say he’s rather annoyed that you know so much about cars, trying to genuinely help him while he just sees it as attacks.

“yeah, well, if you kept your mouth shut, you wouldn’t have embarrassed me about losing to noritoshi.” you roll your eyes, unaware you’re passing a dangerous area with dangerous activities behind the door choso was guarding, nor do you notice the way the bodyguard perks up at the name of noritoshi, who sounds awfully familiar.

you scoff, “trust me, you embarrassed yourself the moment you tried to challenge the dude,” it was meant to be a harmless comment; noritoshi could never measure up to the famous four, but he practised his drifting hard enough and put in the hard work, stayed humble. he was everything that your “man” wasn’t, and it was only deserved that he didn’t win. ultimately, you didn’t expect much from a man in the illegal racing scene who only cared about who had the nicest engines and paint finishes.

“what’d you say?”

choso keeps a close eye on the both of you.

“it was nothing—” you sigh, reaching out to grab at his arm to get him to stop shouting so loud when you notice the person standing in front of a shady door — twin pigtails hairstyle with a dead look in his eyes and a tattoo across his nose, dressed up in a suit. it was scary enough walking through a dimly-lit alleyway, but your fear heightens when your eyes fall upon the surroundings of ashes of late night campfires, dried blood along the walls, and used condoms on the floor.

“no, no, tell me what you said, just so i know that i heard you right,” your “man” insisted, stepping up so close to you that your nerves were on high alert from the proximity and the possibility of that someone just a few feet away inflicting harm on the both of you.

“it was nothing! i just meant that you didn’t have a chance against noritoshi from the st—” it’s like you hit a sensitive nerve, because the next thing he’s doing is grabbing your wrist and dragging you along, not aware of how choso perks up even more, ready to leave his post. it borderline hurts with the way he grasps at your skin, paired with the discomfort of your heels and outfit, you can’t just wait to get home and rest up.

“ohh, so that’s what you said!” the man continues to tug you, not heeding your pleas for him to stop, “might as well just leave you here with the yakuza to see whether you stand a chance.”

that’s what the man was guarding . . wait.

a shout wretches out of you when you notice there’s no shadows at the door that’s lit simply with fluorescence at the same time the mysterious man has one hand each on your arms.

“who are you—” your “man” has the gall to speak first, shocked at the stronger grip of the other when he tears the fingers away from your wrist before stumbling back. the mysterious guy simply tugs you into his hold, levelling the other with just a stare from his eyes that’s got him babbling and stuttering in fear. you hate to admit that once the man beside you speaks, your body curls into his side — it’s like a smooth cup of coffee that you gravitate towards.

“do you want to repeat what you just said?” choso puts you behind him as he approaches the other, one step taken while the cowering one takes one step back. “because i can always open the door i’m guarding and let them take care of you, instead.”

“t-that wouldn’t be necessary—” he’s adamant on his threatening, taking out a flip phone and dialling numbers one by one, no doubt the number of his boss. he doesn’t even look at you, eyes trained on the pigtailed man as he continues to dial the number and pressing call. if choso’s being honest, he’s about to shit himself just as much, never having called his saiko-komon personally before so he only fakes the number, thanking the heavens that someone somewhere decided to call his boss’ phone just at the same time.

they all hear it, the familiar nokia ringtone from behind the door, but in choso’s ear, all it says is that it’s an invalid number that garners no answer. he talks over the operator’s voice anyway.

“yeah, i need you to take care of this guy. just outside here—” that’s enough for him to go running away, puddles splashing and his voice crying out for civilisation, although you’re not too happy yourself, afraid for your own fate. kept like a pet for the yakuza? made to work for them to pay off this small helping hand? commit—

you sit up from the hood, “you called a fake number?!” it’s hard to say when that fateful meeting turned into this over the past few months, asking choso to recount the night the two of you met out of curiosity when you realise that your yakuza-accountant boyfriend had dialled a fake number the whole time.

“i had just joined! i wasn’t going to phone my boss . .” he sheepishly says with head turned to you, and while you’re giving him brutal smacks on the shoulder (“what! if! he! hadn’t! run! away! were you going to let a phone operator beat him up?”), you’re still thankful he decided to step in at the right time even if his heroic act had been brought down a notch by this revelation.

it’s then that he asks about the whole racing thing you were involved in but you’re taken aback by the fact that he wasn’t going to make you do anything in return. even if the alley had boasted its dubiousness, you realise than the man standing in front of you was not much older than you, a childish sparkle in his eyes when you entertained the question. with a random number in your phone, it was up to you if you wanted to text him, but after a few races, you think that he was just too handsome to pass up.

choso picked up racing and drifting fast, joining your small group of friends of yuji, megumi and nobara who were all rising up the ranks. it was difficult, knowing the famous four, but it didn’t hurt trying to build a reputation in the underground scene. he practised around the docks, crashing into crates, sending the seagulls flying, and almost sending your scrap car over the edge.

“tokyo is pretty at this time of night,” choso mumbles as he sits up, too, liking the way you scooch closer to him on the hood of his 1967 Ford Mustang.

“tokyo is cold, i’m lucky i’m not freezing to death.” you tease him even when you’re wearing his warm jacket, squealing when his cold hands make it under the jacket and your shirt.

“how are you cold, that jacket’s wool!” he nestles his face into your neck, freezing nose touching the skin there and you giggle, trying your best to push him away. choso says that, but he’s happy to see you in his jacket while his arms tingle with both frost and lovesickness. “you’re just extra sensitive to the cold.”

before you can retaliate, though, he’s pulling away from your body heat to look you in the eye; it was a wonder he even got you, a girl who’s just so passionate about cars and who taught him everything he needed to know about it. six months down the road, he’s writing about something other than living paycheck to paycheck again, getting in some extra money from racing as well.

“wanna drive?”

you grin, hopping off his hood before jumping into the car beside him and he only laughs at your enthusiasm, hopping in after you and starting the ignition. you wish it was like this before every race: you beside him in the passenger seat as he gets ready to race against his opponent. the rev of the engine always excites you, knowing you contributed to the many modifications of his Mustang. but choso always says it’s dangerous for you — so you’re left to watch from the sidelines.

but now, as choso drifts down the mountain, you can’t help but stare at him as he changes gears every few seconds, hair blowing everywhere from the wind outside before he reaches the base and races off into the main road. you’re shouting in excitement, music blasting loudly from the cassette player while you dominate the streets at night.

“d’you think i can break 190, sweetheart?”

your jaw drops, “while drifting?” he nods, “you’re insane . . yeah, do it.”

choso’s laughter feels infinitely heavenly, stepping on the accelerator on a fairly empty road. he’s familiar with the traffic of the roads too, so at 4am, it’s basically deserted when he speeds down the gravel while he tries to break the speed limit. you feel on top of the world, a pretty road full of green lights on every turn; there’s a couple of sharp screeches from his tires as he navigates shibuya.

“hear that increased throttle response . .” you whistle when he presses his foot into the accelerator again, Mustang speeding off into the streets while you look over to him: hand holding the stick shift and one hand on the wheel. he’s as pretty as you remember him six months ago and his beauty truly hits you in the moment that you unconsciously rub your thighs together.

“all thanks to you, baby,” feels like the final blow, not knowing the effect he has on you until you’re waiting until he slows down to place your hand atop his on the steering wheel. there he lets you steer where you want to go, face melting into recognition at the place you’re taking him to.

“you’re nasty.” in the abandoned car park, he giggles when you’re shushing him as you make your way to the backseats, levelling him with a stare that begged him to hurry.

“yeah . . whatever, you like it.”

choso grins, switching off the ignition and climbing in after you, making you forget all about the cold season of japan in mere minutes. his lips collide with yours and his body naturally pushes yours to the leather seats, driving you crazy just with his mouth. his hands make quick work of your skimpy outfit, inching past your tight halter top and to your tits. you gasp softly into the kiss.

“may i?” even after all this time, choso still asks for permission, pulling down your top and bra when you nod.

his mouth is both warm and gentle when it meets with your nipple, tongue swirling around the bud and eyes looking up at you just to relish in the hooded lids and soft moans you give him. his free hand fondles your other, squeezing and playing, rolling the bud between his thumb and forefinger.

“just s’soft . . always,” he hums into your chest, kissing you down bit by bit and making you wait for it with each teasing journey he makes. there, he manoeuvres himself onto the floor, kneeling on the carpeted finishing as your knees hook onto each shoulder. the car is filled with your laboured breathing, watching him slowly undo the straps to your uncomfortable heels. it’s excruciatingly slow, pulling at the strings and removing each shoe before his lips leave fire along your shin, up to your thighs and to your pulsing core.

“choso . .” you whine, hips bucking off the leather.

all he does is laugh, hands spreading your legs before he’s licking his lips at the mess you made in your skirt, panties and back of the fabric soaked right through. your boyfriend pulls you forward with a certain fervour that makes you yelp and you match him with a nervous grin as he tugs away the underwear and marvels at the arousal that just sticks to your pussy, pretty and dripping right in front of him.

you have no warning before choso indulges himself in your cunt and you cry out in surprise, hand tangled up in the mess of his hair that falls from his pigtails. his warm tongue laps at your clit like a man starved, slurping up all of your arousal into his tongue. the cold weather is just the cherry on top, cold wind wafting through the walls and the windows, making you extra sensitive.

“c-cho—” you hum, one hand lost in his black locks while the other clutches tightly onto the seats for any sort of anchor while choso only pushes his face further in between your legs. he can feel your pussy clench around nothing, switching between sucking and flicking his tongue with a relentless pace that threatens your sanity. “t-too much . .”

all he does is laugh into your centre, eyes flitting to meet yours while he continues his ministrations, arms wrapping around your thighs. choso moans at how good and sweet you taste, a curious hand moving from your legs right to your hole where he plays with your folds. gently, he pushes past your walls and you whimper from the intrusion, clamping down around his finger.

“relax, darling, i got you,” he softly says, relaxing his pace just a bit as he starts to thrust his finger. while slow, his tongue doesn’t stop, however, still continuing to make the lewdest noises.

“pussy so damn sweet,” he groans, nuzzling his face right into your sloppy core before teasing a second finger; it’s easy to slip in but he still warns you wordlessly, inching them right in until they reach the knuckles, “and so tight, too—”

the car is filled with the smell of sex, the sounds of your pussy and your endless moans as choso starts to pump his fingers in and out, reaching so much deeper than any of your toys can and stretching you out just right. your hips buck uncontrollably as you feel that coil in your stomach, knowing that you were only going to get even more of this before choso properly fucks you — but it’s all he promises, that to make sure you’d cum on his fingers and tongue thrice before he even thinks of railing you like you deserve.

“c-choso, your fingers—!”

“yeah?” it’s breathless, bottom half of his face all soaked and wet, but he goes right back in.

“mmfuck— cho, cho, p-please . .” your words are jumbled up, babbling through your teeth while his fingers gathers all of your juices, “i’m g’nna—”

choso thinks you’re just perfect like this, moaning as much as you want in his Mustang and spread out just for him to eat. he cannot keep his eyes off you, curling his fingers just a bit to find your sweet spot as he flicks your bundle of nerves as his eyes stay on the way your lips part for little pants to escape. your eyes have fluttered close by now but he doesn’t mind as you continue to push his head towards your cunt.

“cum on my fingers, my love,” the other groans, words muffled a little, “cum on my tongue like a good girl.”

“cho— f-fuuck . .” you writhe around on the leather seats as you reach your peak, voice descending into a silent scream while your jaw hangs open. at his peripheral he can see and feel your thighs tremble while you chant his name like a prayer, over and over until you think your voice is hoarse. his seats are wet, no doubt, and you wince seeing your cum decorate the leather, but choso quietens your worries as he leans up to give you a kiss. you can taste yourself.

“taste good?” you’re ruined despite it being your first orgasm, answering half-heartedly before slumping, a soft moan leaving you when he removes his fingers and strings of your arousal stick to each digit. his hand naturally gravitates towards your mouth, fumbling with your lips before he pushes in — distracted, he takes the opportunity to latch his mouth onto your cunt again and you mewl loudly.

“that’s just the start,” choso grins, laying a long stripe up your pussy and groaning softly at the way your tongue swirls over his fingers, “i’m sorry in advance . . hope you’re able to get out of bed tomorrow, baby.”

451 notes · View notes

xhanelia · 8 months

Note

I’ve discovered your blog and it’s single handedly feeding my current valorant obsession, I love your writing so much. With that said, could I please request a some fluffy confession scenes with Sova or possibly Chamber? Thank you so much!

I will abandon this page istg i hate tumblr but this is a request i can write in one go so here i am at 00:43. Lets see when i'll finish it. (Im done and its 03:00)

<<<The reader is another agent in the protocol in this fic. Sova part is GN and Chamber part is female reader. >>>

Hope you like it! And thank you sm!!

Confession headcannons with Sova and Chamber

He is the hollywood star of hiding emotions and pressing them in so no one can tell what he really feels or who is the person he has eyes on. Exept himself ofcourse.

He is not some kind of "i'll built up my emotions inside so i wont hurt anyone" kind of person. He knows he shouldnt hide them too long or it can cause damage. He talks about his problems to Brim like everybody does. But not love, ofcourse.

He thinks that he shouldnt feel like this to a coworker. Not that there isnt any couples in the HQ. There is Raze and KJ and he knows that Brim allows it.

He is probably scared of you rejecting him. If so, there will be a moody aura between whenever you two need to team up for a mission. He cannot allow that. That will effect both of your morals and the performance.

But every second he is not speaking about his feelings is like a torture to him. Like all of his energy is drawn out of him when he returns from a mission or just from trainings.

Spending his day at his room, not practising archery, not having conversations much often, sitting in the plane and looking out of the window while going to a mission rather than giving courage to people is not like him. Something is bothering him. Clearly.

You went to sit next to him. He immediately turned his head to you. "Did something happened?" He asked.

"I should be the one asking you that." You said. He stared at you for a good 15 seconds.

"Lets have this conversation after the mission." He suggested with the pressure of his own feelings. It was getting too much for him to handle. You did not pressed on it. The mission was a short one after all. Everyone did good and went back to the HQ with the same plane.

He immediately regret his choice of words when you stood infront of him when he tried to get out of the plane. He was planning to found an excuse but he didnt had the time to think about that.

"Umm..." he said trying to get some time to think. You lift a brow, implying that you both know why you are in his way.

"Lets talk about it when no one is around, shall we?" He said while bending over you a little.

"There is no one around, Sasha. You took unexpectedly long to leave the plane." You said. You were not letting him escape again.

He sighed. Looking around, really no one was left at the landing field. He grabbed your arm and getting you two both out of the plane. The sky was open and orange with the sunset of the beautiful winter.

He held both of your hands. You could feel the shake of them. It was ironic that the sniper of the protocol's hands was shaking that easily before you.

"You dont have to say anything, its better if we pretend that i said nothing, but..." you tilted your head and frown at the words. "I am in love with you." He says.

He is too scared to look you in the eyes or hear the words that will come out of your mouth so he continues to speak.

"I was too scared that our friendship will never be the same after my confession so i kept this feelings inside but they didnt stop growing. I felt like i was drowning and couldnt hide it anymore. I am sorry if i ruined our friendship and-"

He stopped after hearing your laugh. Did he said something stupid? Was this so childish for him to do? Why were you laughing?

"You were hiding this from me? For how long?" You said. He got confused. "Uhh... for... over 4 or 5 months?" He said, unsure about when he got this crush over you.

"You should have told me from the start silly. I like you too!" As you said, his eyes lit up with the happiness. Holding your hands tighter, he asked. "Really? Are you real? You are not saying that because you dont want me to feel bad, do you?"

With your head shake as a no, he hugs you while both of you laugh with joy. And there goes your first kiss with him. Under the orange sky with the blow of an air like a celebration of the nature for both of you.

Mhm. We all know this man aint hiding nothing. He shall show you and everyone that he has eyes on you so that nobody can steal you from him untill he officialy takes you out.

Yea i feel like he would take you out to an extra expensive restaurant to confess, even the offer itself looks like the confession already.

"Chamber, you really dont have to." You say while hanging the vandal back to its place. Training was over and the french man knew your schedule from head to toe. It was impossible for him to miss any of your free times.

"Please, the randevu was made from weeks ago. Plus, if it isnt going to be you then who is it?" He says while giving you the card of the restaurant. On the card, it was written the place of the restaurant (i will die from this stuffy nose istg i cannot write) with the date and time of the randevu with his fancy handwriting.

You gave a smile to him. Not often you got this kind of... um... take outs? (I forgor the word in english) He was generous to offer you this. Altough it was clear why he did this.

You contact Brim to clear that day but he said that Chamber did it for you. Then you discover that nearly everyone knows about the "take out" that you guys will have.

"O. M. G. You know that he will confess you that night, right?" Jett said while cutting cucumbers to put on her eyes but Phoenix eats them trying not to get caught. The girls night is getting little heavy on you. (Pho is one of the girls idc.)

"Yea, yea, i know. Who doesnt." You said while rolling your eyes. Trying to not pop the conversation much.

"I mean, i didnt got a confession in a fancy restaurant." KJ said while looking at Raze. Who has no idea whats going on.

"Well, im okay if he wants to do it this way but im not sure if i'll fit in that kind of atmosphere. Everyone and everything is so expensive. You know." You said while shaking your shoulders.

"Are you kidding me? That french has his eyes on you. You think he will matter if you fit in or not?" Neon lifts the cucumbers from her eyes and looks at you from the couch. You lift your hands sideways as to tell you dont know.

"We will make you fit." Phoenix says with excitement. "What is the date?" He asks while everyone awaits the answer from you.

Eventually, the date comes. Everyone you gave the date is more excited than you. Preparing your dress, makeup and everything like its a doll dressing game.

When it comes to Chamber, he was ready more than ever. It was like classic Chamber yet so different. He had his 'special occasion suit' on him and a smug smile on his face. He offers you his arm and you take it.

(You go to the restaurant but its getting too late and i need some sleep so imma skip that part.)

"So..." he says while you both sit face to face, eating dinner. He had studied this for over how many times and yet he is still nervous. You turned your look at him and raise a brow.

"We both know why we are here, Vincent. I like you too. You dont have to give me a whole speech." You said. Drinking some of the wine to cover your face and overexcitement.

He laughs at your boldness. "Its open like a book, isnt it?" He looks straight into your eyes. You feel like they could pierce through you. "Thats my girl. Bold and smart as always" He says. "You dont need a brain to see that you have eyes on me." It was your time to laugh.

He looks at you with that stupid smirk on his face. Like he truly fell in love if you. "I love you." He says. Giving up on the talk he had prepared. He felt like it was the only thing he needed to say.

Even if that three words was the only thing he said, they made your heartbeat race up immediately. With a giggle, you hold his hand that is on the table. "I love you." You said. The only thing he said and the only thing he needed to hear from you was the same nontheless.

#valorant #headcanon #sova #sova valorant #valorant sova #sova headcannons #sova x reader #valorant x reader #chamber #chamber valorant #chamber x reader #chamber headcannons

208 notes · View notes

blueraineshadows · 1 year

Note

A request if I may?

f!mc + Ominis fluffy/angst

I dont know if you're familiar with Isaac Cooper in the game, but according to all the npc voice lines about him around Hogwarts, he's A star quidditch player whos very popular and handsome. Lots of npcs seem to gush about him. You can actually find his house near seb's in feldcroft! He seems to be in Gryffindor.

Anyway, for the purpose of this, Im picturing him being a total ladies man who's very full of himself and not used to rejection. Can you write about him relentlessly perusing MC but she always shuts him down (much to Ominis' amusement, he feels a bit insecure) like he keeps interrupting her study sessions with Omi and it gets to the point where she has enough and yells at him in class, or in the great hall, somewhere public where everyone witnesses it lol. Afterword, not wanting this to continue, omi hears issac approaching them AGAIN, he's fed up and he suddenly pulls MC into a kiss to deter him. MC reciprocates. They get together finally, then Isaac buggers off for good lol.

I love this request! 😀 💜 Also, I know the house you mean in Feldcroft, but I hadn't made the connection - love that!

Ominis Gaunt x F!MC 💚

"Oh, they are lovely, MC! Who are they from?" Poppy asked. She leant forward to sniff the little bunch of red roses that were sitting on the table in front of MC. There were curled red and gold ribbons tied around the thorn-free stems, a most thoughtful gift for a Gryffindor.

MC stared at the flowers that had arrived over breakfast, her cheeks a lovely pink. She had absolutely no idea who they were from. The card simply read, 'Hero of Hogwarts, you have my heart.'

Poppy read the little card and sighed. "Oh, it's so romantic."

"But, I have no idea who sent them! It's not even Valentine's Day," MC said.

"Clearly, you have an admirer, MC," Poppy said. She leant in with a smile. "Enjoy it!"

MC spent the rest of the day suspiciously eyeing any boy who came near her, wondering who had sent such lovely flowers.

The next morning, there was a cute poem waiting for her, describing how beautiful she was. MC folded the parchment quickly, blushing, her eyes scanning the hall. Who was this?

....*....

Ominis tapped his quill thoughtfully against his lips, his study books open on the library table, but his mind was very much elsewhere. Beside him, he could feel the reassuring presence of MC, her delicate scent a familiar comfort, and the occasional brush of her arm against his an exquisite torture.

He was fuming, quietly seething. Every day this week, MC had been receiving beautiful gifts from a secret admirer. Envy slithered in his belly. They were just the kind of gifts that he would himself send, but he was apparently an utter coward, because he had done no such thing. His fear of her rejection had made him hide his affection for MC, but now some usurper was muscling in on his most favourite girl. It irritated him no end, especially when he didnt know who this wretched cad was.

"Are you quite alright, Ominis?" MC asked. "You look like you're about to snap that quill in two."

He attempted to relax his tense muscles and put down his quill. "Apologies, MC, I was miles away," he said. "I didn't sleep so well is all, not too worry."

He heard her little sigh of concern, and then her hand was clasping his. "My poor Omi," she said. She leant in a little closer. "We have History of Magic this afternoon, feel free to use my shoulder as a pillow if you need a nap. I won't disturb you."

Oh, how he loved her! She knew just the right things to say to lift his spirits. He smiled and gave her hand a squeeze. "What would I do without you, MC?"

....*....

The breeze was brisk but the sky clear as the Gryffindor Quidditch team took part in practise. MC was seated in the stands, eyes on the sky, watching as her friends Natty and Garreth zoomed to and fro. She had considered signing up for the team, but had found it difficult to find the time. Being in 7th year, there was so much studying to do and she wanted to concentrate on that.

As practise was coming to an end, the players were gathering on the ground, and MC wandered over to speak with Natty. Footsteps fell in beside her and she looked up into the very handsome face of Isaac Cooper. Immediately MC blushed, a very natural reaction around the Quidditch star chaser. He was tall, athletic, his smile bordering on beautiful. There was not a soul who could fail to falter in their steps when he bestowed that smile on you.

Unfortunately, he knew it. He had a trail of broken hearts behind him, and no doubt would continue to collect them for the foreseeable future. Whilst he was most handsome and charming, MC didn't really see herself becoming the latest notch on his broomstick.

"Hello, MC," he greeted, warmly. "It's great to see you here today. You didn't fancy joining us for a little practise? I hear you are an excellent flyer, I wouldn't mind getting to see that."

Her lips parted a little as she looked up at him. Her blush deepened, much to her chagrin. "Oh, well, I did consider it, but decided not to in the end," she said.

His face slipped into one of disappointment, and she felt a twinge of regret. Despite herself, she was slipping under his charm.

"That's a real shame," he said. He dared to lean a little closer. "Although, I bet you look rather fetching in Quidditch kit. You might be too much of a distraction for me."

His wink was ridiculously charming, and then he was gone, a sexy smirk on his lips as he marched off to join the others. MC tugged at her collar, and swallowed. Had he just openly flirted with her? Flustered beyond belief, she hurried for Natty, annoyed with herself for letting him get to her so.

....*....

MC gathered her Charms text book and notes, packing up to leave class. She was about to join Ominis, her usual walking partner on the way to lunch, when a hand caught her elbow. She looked up into Issac's sparkling eyes, a little gasp leaving her lips.

He smiled. "May I walk you to lunch?"

MC's eyes widened. "Oh, I... I usually walk with Ominis," she said.

She glanced across at her Slytherin friend and noticed he had paused, listening. She felt a blush stain her cheeks. Not because of Isaac, but because she felt her heart squeeze at the delicate turn of Ominis' head, the disappointment gathering around his mouth.

Isaac followed her gaze, a slight frown creasing his perfect brow. "Ah, I see," he said. He sighed, a sad little look on his face. He put his hand to his heart. "I would be most honoured if you did walk with me, MC, but seeing as you already have arrangements, perhaps you will do me the honour another time."

MC stood there, flushed and amazed, as Issac tucked a stand of hair behind her ear with a soft smile and left the class.

Ominis appeared at her side. "I hope you are not falling for his little tricks," he hissed. MC looked at him, eyebrows lifting at the tense way he held his jaw. "At least we know who has been trying to buy your affection with his little gifts now."

Realisation struck her like a bludger. "Oh goodness," she said. "Do you think so?"

Ominis took her arm in his, a little possessively, and MC felt a little tingle of warmth spread through her. "Come, MC," he said, firmly. "I will escort you to lunch. You may even sit with me at the Slytherin table if you wish."

Her heart lifted. "I would love to."

....*....

Ominis was cold with fury now. That pesky Gryffindor chaser would not stop hounding MC. He was there, constantly, any excuse to speak to her. He knew he was sneaking little touches as well, Sebastian had told him so. Ominis was so twisted up with envy, he was especially snippy lately. He couldn't help it.

He was no star Chaser, he was not athletic in the slightest, he couldn't even see MC, he had to rely on how others spoke about her beauty. He knew looks weren't the end of it all, he knew how beautiful she was in other ways, his heart was consumed by it. But he did feel at a disadvantage.

He could not imagine that she would feel the same way for him as he did for her, despite all the loving gestures she bestowed upon him. He harboured a precious, secret hope that she must hold some kind of affection for him. But found it hard to believe that it would equal the exciting charm of a handsome Quidditch player. Especially one who was dead set on wooing her.

Ominis walked at her side, a little closer than usual, and he heard her exasperated sigh. He put his hand on her lower back. "What is it?"

He felt her lean closer to speak quietly. "That blasted Isaac," she muttered. Ominis couldn't help his smirk of pleasure at her choice of words. "He has been pestering me all morning, and I am getting rather tired to tell you the truth. How many times must I decline him before he takes the hint?"

"Would you like me to hex him, MC? It would be my pleasure," Ominis said. He had not meant the words to sound so dark, it was supposed to be a joke. But they had slid from his lips with a vicious undertone, cold and cruel. He heard her swift intake of breath and soothed her with a gentle stroke of his hand up her back. "Only joking, of course. But I could have a word, if it would make you feel better."

"Erm, thank you, Ominis," she said, hastily. "But, I can handle myself. No need to worry."

....*....

MC wrote her study notes, neat and careful as always, and kept stealing little glances towards Ominis. She had been fidgeting and musing over his offer to hex Isaac on her behalf. He had sounded utterly terrifying if she was honest, his cold cruelty a trait of his blood no doubt, and yet, she had been fighting against an inferno of discomfort in her nether regions ever since.

Who knew? Having a man behave in such a possessive and protective way toward her had her rather flustered. Perhaps because it was Ominis. She would be a liar if she said she didn't find him attractive. Now she was wondering if he felt the same way. Intriguing to say the least.

She glanced around the library, a little hot under the collar. It was the most inappropriate place to be harbouring such blazing ideas about her Slytherin friend.

Then Isaac appeared, strutting down the aisles, adoring faces worshipping him as he passed tables of various year groups studying. MC felt her desires disappear under a bucket of icy dread as his gaze spotted her. He made his way over.

"MC, how lovely to see you," he said. He saw Ominis and frowned and gave him a cool, curt greeting. MC felt her hackles rise. Isaac leant on the table, bestowing his most charming smile her way. "I'm glad I ran into you, I was hoping that perhaps you would like to meet up later? Maybe we could head down to the Quidditch pitch and you can show me some of your moves?"

He had implied her flying skills perhaps, but the look in his eyes was far more suggestive than a quick zoom around on a broom. His eyes dropped to her lips, his gaze sultry, before lifting to meet her eyes again. Oh, she could see how girls had fallen prey to his charm. He was very good.

She felt Ominis stiffen beside her, and a little sliver of fear tickled down her spine. Would he hex Isaac, right here, in the library? She did not want him to get into trouble on her account. Also, she had been perfectly correct in her statement of her own abilities. She could handle herself.

She fixed Isaac with a stern look. "No thank you, Isaac," she said coldly. "I do not wish to 'show you my moves'. From what I understand, you have had far too many girls showing you moves under the Quidditch stands, and I am not another notch for your overly rated broomstick! Now, please, I am trying to study, if you wouldn't mind."

Now, libraries are usually quiet, but now you could have heard a pin drop. Her voice had carried across the room, students pausing to listen to her little rant. MC suddenly realised this and almost shrank in her seat, but forced herself to keep her back straight, and her face stern.

Isaac looked rather taken aback, but he recovered quickly. If anything, his smile was more charming than ever. His eyes blazed. "My, my, MC, you are quite the fire cracker," he grinned. "Forgive me, I will leave you to your studies."

As he walked away MC felt Ominis lean against her to speak quietly into her ear. "Do you think he got the hint this time?"

MC shook her head. "No, Ominis," she said with a sigh. "If you could have seen the look on his face...dammit, I think I just made him all the more determined."

....*....

Ominis was making it a point to be wherever MC was at every given opportunity. Sebastian was more than happy to assist, and even started to warn MC when Isaac was on the prowl.

All of this had got Ominis rather worked up, his adoration of MC had reached new levels, and he was on the brink of plucking up the courage to do something about it. He just needed to find the right time.

As it happened, the right time was thrown at him, completely unplanned and very high risk.

He was with MC, chatting quite happily out in the grounds. It was a lovely day, and Sebastian had joined them.

"Oh no, look out," Sebastian murmured. "One Isaac Cooper heading right this way. He looks rather determined. He's got balls coming over with us two here with you MC, I will give him that."

MC clicked her tongue and sighed. "Oh, for Merlin's sake."

Ominis really was absolutely done with this whole thing. Going purely on instinct, he reached out a hand and found MC's arm, he heard her little gasp as he quickly brushed upwards to her shoulder.

"Ominis..." She gasped.

His hand slid to her neck to cup her face and he went for it. He guided her forward and planted a kiss right where he hoped her mouth would be. He missed, sadly. Catching her lips at the corner, his nose brushing up against her soft cheek.

He heard Sebastian's delighted burst of laughter, MC was breathing so fast, her hands fluttering near his face, and he hoped he hadn't made a first class fool of himself. But then her gentle hands took hold of his face, and she adjusted her mouth to seal her lips firmly over his, returning his kiss.

So, this is what heaven must feel like, he mused.

When their lips parted, he could feel the heat in his cheeks, and she brushed her fingers lightly over them. "Well, that was a lovely surprise," she said, softly.

"More like about bloody time," Sebastian quipped.

"What about Isaac, has he buggered off yet?" Ominis asked.

"Oh, he is definitely not coming over here now," Sebastian said.

"Is that why you kissed me?" MC asked. She sounded disappointed. "You just wanted to scare Issac off?"

Ominis flushed a brilliant red. "Well, yes...and no," he said. He scowled, his jealousy getting the better of him. "The thought of that womanising leech laying a finger on you makes me want to do very bad things, MC. Forgive me, but I could not abide one more moment of it. The only man who gets to lay his fingers on you, is me."

And with that, he reached to find her hand. She took it, linking her fingers with his.

"Well, alright then," she said. He could hear the smile in her voice. Then her warmth was close, very close, and he shivered as her mouth breathed softly against his ear. "But only if you promise me more of those kisses."

His smile was very smug and he didn't care. He had what he wanted. "Now that, I am more than happy to do."

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x f!mc #blueraineshadows #askblueraine #blueraine requests

240 notes · View notes

entroart · 5 months

Note

Hi there, just a few things

Hi, I'm an artist, and I'm plural too :3. Or at least, I think I am? It's complicated. There's a lot of denial all the time.

You don't have to say anything that you don't want to of course, and answer in as much or as little detail as you'd like to.

So my questions are like.

1) How has being plural affected your art journey?

Im asking this because I have really bad executive dysfunction, and find it extremely hard to actually do what I want to do, meaning not much art practise, but I know that my other alters don't have it as badly.

2) How is your system communication? How did you make it better if its good.

Our communication is very.... poor. There's 3 definite alters, including me, and maybe a couple more, but I never hear about them so idk. Either way, even between just the three of us, I almost never hear anything from the other two. Apparently they have better communication between each other, but idk how true that is cus I can't really ask them.

3) Can you visualise things? I have aphantasia, and it makes me need a lot more references for when I am occasionally able to bring myself to draw. I'm interested to know how it works without that inhibition.

Thank you very much for reading, I love your art and wish all of you the best. <3

Question Barrage!! 1. Well to be fair is mostly everyone doing their thing. Bridget is trying to learn how to art to help me so thats nice (lemme show her progress)

Other alters also draw, for example Abyss that tends to do fruits

Or one of our littles Chain that did art yesterday

So each alter different art and stuff, I think thats how I can answer that question. 2. Our communication is alright, we can talk to each other easily and dont need to write for that, so in that regards fine 3. Yes, we can see a 3D image and rotate it (shit is frustrating cuz then not being able to properly draw makes me feel horrible)

#transgender #lgbtq #art #doodle #original art #disabled artist #plural system

45 notes · View notes

cadaverre · 1 year

Text

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ welcome ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

about me

you can call me juno or astraea

im a cancer sun, libra moon and sagittarius rising

my pronouns are they/she (and my pronoun page is here)

i'm a proud bisexual (i am very sapphic lol)

im taken (you can hear about my love via the “them tag <33")

i am a minor (i won't immediately block people 18+ but if you're creepy i will <3)

australian!! also a bunch of different places, none really interesting

this blog is for me to dump thoughts, interact with people and just have a good time :)

i play the drums and im currently in two bands! i also love playing guitar and one of my 2024 goals is to get better at playing!!

currently listening -> 🍁☕️🎸 nyc

currently reading -> the odyssey translated by emily wilson

currently watching -> doctor who and rewatching gilmore girls

things i like

i love: literature, the arts, queer culture, astronomy, feminism (no terfs allowed!!!!), fruit flavoured drinks, flared pants, converse, dark red, nail polish, eyeliner, burgundy lipgloss, tank tops, tote bags, brie (always dreaming of cheese), pinterest, spotify, my headphones, the ocean, my grandparents house (im there rn i love it), spring+winter, very specific shades of pink and green, black <3, folklore and 1989 girl, fiddling around on the guitar, fantasising about being a famous musician, finding new music, snow, picking silly little outfits,

books: osemanverse, the hunger games, books by rhiannon wilde, tim te maro's subterranean heartsick blues, all the best liars, books by octavia butler (specifically parable of the sower and parable of the talents), the last true poets of the sea, acotar, the weight of the stars, the seven husbands of evelyn hugo, the picture of dorian grey, house of hollow, howls moving castle, harry potter (mainly marauders, FUCK JKR), i kissed shara wheeler, red white and royal blue, song of achilles

movies + tv shows: dont look up, little women (2019), scream (i like most of them but 1996 is my fav by far), ladybird, barbie (2023), some of the mcu (thor and guardians of the galaxy <33), spiderverse (itsv is my love), gilmore girls, stranger things, loki, heartstopper, arcane, scott pilgrim takes off, she ra

musicians/bands: boygenius, taylor swift, lovejoy, glaive, brakence, paramore, ricky jamaraz, melanie martinez, lana del rey, ashnikko, girl in red, billie eilish, doja cat, big thief, adrienne lenker, ethel cain, mitski, remi wolf, cigarettes after sex, ericdoa, tv girl, clairo, the neighbourhood, bon iver, deftones (getting into them just a little), maneskin, courtney barnett, poppy

my favourite colours are black, dark red, burgundy, denim blue, sage green, soft pink, glaucous blue, golden yellow (i love colour theory so all colours are beautiful in their own context but here are my favs to wear/see)

i really want to get into more poetry so if you have any recs lmk!!

i have recently begun practising some very simple witchcraft, so feel free to talk to me about that and i would love to learn more!!

i love learning about astrology and use my birth chart frequently

i write very, very infrequently and think of more stories than i even start to plot lmao.

i draw way more than i write and will occasionally post some!! its not good by any means but its fun ig

talk to me + dni

my asks and dms are open!! feel free to talk to me about anything and everything!! i love talking!!

i love my mutuals so much so if ur my mutual *looks you dead in your eyes* i love you

my discord is the same @ as here, i literally just got it today so idrk how it works but feel free to add me there <33 but please lmk if you do if your username is different

if we’re very close you can ask for my insta!!

i rarely follow people without an intro post/descriptive enough bio (with name, age group, pronouns) so if you want to be mutuals please have one!! if not just shoot me an ask about who you are and what you like so we can be friends <33

dni: rude, racist, homophobic, transphobic, zionist, terfs, sexist, ableist, antisemitic people

tags

#juno.txt -> ramblings, original posts

#asks -> asks ive answered

#ask bait -> hehehe send me asks <3

#tag games -> tag games ive participated in

#beautiful mutuals -> interactions with my beautiful mutuals!

#spotify -> my music obsession dw im fine fhdklfhdal

#them tag <33 -> posts that remind me of my wonderful bf <3

links + sideblogs

spotify

@likeasugarcubeinateacup -> my notes app poetry

@slowrotburiedinthepark -> a random sideblog i post art and occasional web weaving on

@stabbingstarsthroughmyback -> my writing sideblog (ask me about my wip!!)

stunning dividers by @chachachannah :))

here is a totally beautiful and amazing moodboard by @svnflowermoon that always makes me so fhadkfhakd

last updated: jan 19th 2024

#intro post #Spotify #juno.txt #asks #ask bait #tag games #beautiful mutuals #pinned post #them tag <33

62 notes · View notes

captainmera · 11 months

Note

This is a weird or maybe nonsensical one, has Caleb ever seen or faced a Wendigo?

Out of respect for the Mohegan tribe of the Pequot people in Connecticut, I stay away from using terms like wen**go and sk**walk** in my fanfic.

Adding a read more so I don't clog up people's feed. 🙇

I'm not native American. It would be unwise of me to dig into things I dont have a greater understanding of. Especially when it involves things that marginalised people are still believing in and practising spiritually.

Although I research extensively; I'm not flawless in my execution. But in my years of interest in native culture, history, and contemporary issues - I have learned that those two words are often misused for shock value in stories. I don't want to contribute to that.

There is a wide smörgårdsbord of other native folklore that can be used that won't bring further mysticism onto a still existing and practising group of people, though.

If youre interested in finding out more, Here's one of my favourite channels on the topic!

https://youtube.com/@NavajoTraditionalTeachings?si=PSIL9Z7ZRiA9JZvG

Now, these are mainly from a Navajo perspective, but the various nations and tribes do share a lot of them.

I prefer when my sources are directly from first hand. Thankfully, there are a lot of YouTube channels like these now that make it easier.

I've bought books when I was younger that was written by outsiders looking in, and they're not always that good - I understand the irony, as I am probably in the same boat as them here (being an interested outsider, that is). But I think, what I've learned from those authors mistakes, academically speaking, are two things:

1) Be aware that you are speaking as a secondary source of information and that you are biased as an outsider. Remind people of this, and admit when you don't know something rather than start guessing.

2) Have respect. They are not some mystical group of people that once was. They are still here and practising their beliefs.

There's nothing wrong with including representation, and doing your best to be accurate and respectable about it, but the way I see it is that - do your best and don't let your ego get the best of you.

Yes, it would be fun to write Caleb encountaring dark forces of Pequot folklore, or dip into a Demon Realm lens of what those lores """really""" are (aka from the boiling isles) - but that's incredibly dismissive of the spiritual beliefs of those tribes.

I try to tread cautiously there. And so should you.

It's nice to have fun, but sometimes it's more important to be respectful. I'm against anything that snubs creativity, but if you think this limits you, then you're not seeing the opportunity for what it is. Force yourself to find something new and a bit more respectfully inclusive.

In my caleb fanfic, I've included a Mohegan man by the name Nashoba. Now, instead of using Nashoba as yet another overused trope of making a native person a mystical guide for a white guy - he's instead just some guy Caleb admires (bisexual panic, that is). So there's historical accuracy, including native people in a town like Gravesfield, without making it all about the "mysticism" of a tribe.

I also discovered that Gravesfield is pretty much based on Hartford, Wethersfield Connecticut:

So I'm getting most of my information from the official historical society website and the Pequot historical museum website. Amongst other academic sites.

*shrug*

Long story short, there are cooler and less disrespectful folklore to write about than that one in particular.

Not saying you're being disrespectful, I know you weren't. I'm just providing what I know and my reasoning why I wouldn't.

#tgb #tgb ask

44 notes · View notes

inekepp · 8 months

Note

WOULD LOVE ANYTHING YOU COULD TELL ME ABOUT THE PHARMACY WIP FRIEND :') <3

Hii!

Okay, so. Pharmacy AU basically comes down to Alex working as a pharm tech in a 24/7 pharmacy (another reason why his sleeping schedule is shot to all hell, bc, yknow, eves, nights, the lot), and Henry is coming in to pick up meds for Arthur, who still suffers from cancer in this fic and all that. Henry keeps on getting Alex as the one who helps him (either bc coincedence, or luck, or timing, or however you want to call it, though i think i put a reference or two in that he did hit other coworkers of alex too, as to make it a tad more realistic). Alex, being quite experienced at this point, immediately clocks as to what Arthur is suffering from (in broad lines, anyway. beyond 'cancer' he ain't getting much further) and in the beginning he holds out hope, but that diminishes as soon as he sees that it's been quite a bit since Arthur got meds for chemo, and what Henry is coming to pick up (which, basically, is painkillers).

eventually, which is what i've yet to write, henry is going to come in to pick up meds like morphine and midazolam bc of palliative care (which, as the midazolam suggests, means hallucinating/possible aggression and the likes bc delirium), and then has to come back because the midazolam isn't doing the trick.

i was also v much planning on henry coming in at some point where alex is on the phone w his boss who tried to contact a coworker but failed (dunno if said coworker is hunter but yknow might as well be haha. but like, failing could happen bc travel or whatnot i dont think it matters much). so here alex is, saying to his boss that hed pass on the message when coworker gets in, but just says 'he' instead of coworker, cue henry panicking bc he thinks it mightve been fam trying to contact him about arthur, and, well.. yeah.

im not being nice to henry here, im sorry.

anyway, alex is v much crushing, but like, cant do much about it aside from helping henry as fast as he can and make it as pleasant as such a visit could be, bc p r o f e s s i o n a l i s m, (which he prob v well throws out the window w panic attack bc, well, he cant henry suffer alone can he?).

and in the last chapter, which is gon be x time after alex saw henry at the hospital last, is basically going to be them running into one another somewhere (idk, coffeeshop? library? somewhere. havent figured that out yet) and get to talking and maybe possibly set up a date (also bc henryd be thanking him in person for all hes done, and henry being henry had send a massive mail to the boss at some point complimenting alex for all his help and care and bc he deserved to get the praise. alex v much would want to thank him for that bc boss (zahra prob) having been like dunno what youve done but good work, and just, getting praise, esp in healthcare, be rare as fuck, so yknow. its something big.

im also hella drawing on my own experiences as a pharm tech, and i do have a load of quiet eve shifts, so, lie, its not unheard of, and while i do not state in which country they are bc i cant be arsed to look up laws and practises and shit like insurance shit bc its irritating and complex enough where im from and im the person who deals w insurances in the first place, i guess its all universal enough (and i did google if midazolam and all that were still like used the same in other countries, bc availability in meds and whas used can differ from country to country).

does that answer it? if not, feel free to clarify!

#rwrb fic #rwrb

3 notes · View notes

devildom-moss · 1 year

Note

ACTUALLY OMW TO MAKE A STORY OF THAT.

Also i had a idea for a story but im probably not gonna write it.

So yknow how the childs pain is like tenfold right.. and you know how there are spells and books that can switch peoples bodies right..

So like.. what if.. one day the child and one of the characters is just practising some spells or stumled across an ancient artifact, and it went horribly wrong and they stwiched bodies?

One: the holds perspective on pain will completely change once they felt what its like to be in another body.

Two: whoever they switched bodies with would probably be on the floor crying and maybe screaming in pain..

Fun!

Anyways that is not very good behaviour.. maybe shut off your devices and set a time to go to bed. Evern if you cant fall asleep, there would be nothing to keep you distracted!!

And remember to eat, sleep (you better), and dont do drugs ^^

Sincerely, 💜

Doitdoitdoitdoit.

So much evil when you're using such a nice emoji, anon.

I like the idea, though. I immediately thought of Diavolo because I think it would be really funny for him to be in a lot of pain and Barbatos is just there petting his back, just "there, there, Young Master. You'll be okay. We'll get you switched back soon."

Meanwhile, the child is in Diavolo's body, finally free, walking into walls on purpose and asking any demon they can find to punch them.

I know. I've tried to set timers, but they make me stressed because I can't seem to get everything I want to done before then. I also won't completely shut off my devices. I usually have to listen to something while I fall asleep (with earbuds) because the other noises around bother me (people I live with, neighbors and their dogs, other external noises. Deadass, someone was putting air in their car tires at 10pm last night with one of those loud tire pumps. It took 15 minutes. I wanted to commit physical violence. /hj) Well, I stayed up that night, but I did end up taking a 40 minute nap the following day, and then I went to bed at a decent time.

A little hypocritical, but you make sure to take care of yourself, 💜 anon.

Again, hypocritical, but I hope all of my followers take good care of themselves to the best of their abilities.

#anon #💜 anon #replies #obey me au #bof!au #moss lover speaks #fun fact: I used to survive college with so little sleep that I genuinely don't know how I'm not more messed up than I'm aware of #so I'm pretty lenient with my sleep issues because anything is better than back then #I'll be okay though. We all have off days

3 notes · View notes

unicyclehippo · 2 years

Note

this is a little bit of a normie question but as some1 who does embroidery , do you have any tips for a guy looking to start? like things you wish you knew, or resources that rlly helped you learn?

i haven't really been doing it very long & certainly not Well.

embroidery floss is six strings twisted into one thread & you can split this into three things of two, or two of three, or six individual strings again depending on how detailed you want your design to be (this took me a stupidly long time to figure out)

if you have a project you are working on do NOT put your bobbins (the thing your floss is wrapped around) away until the project is done because it can be surprisingly hard to figure out WHICH colour exactly you used. you can also keep a piece of paper with the project & write down what colours you used - each thread comes with a colour ref, which will be a number like 7581, & you can & should write the number on the bobbin so if it is running low you can buy more of the exact same shade instead of guessing

you will be surprised by how much detail it adds to have multiple shades of a colour, ie two greens instead of one for the purposes of shading or shaping whatever you are embroidering. but like with any art, dont be afraid to use weird colours & experiment with different stitches n stuff because that's good old fashioned fun

don't buy fancy fabric to start, you might not even enjoy it. buy the cheapo stuff to start, practise some stitches, & if you like it you can get better stuff & if you don't then you can just keep the stuff for the next time you need to darn a sleeve or put a button back on a shirt.

it's really hard to know all the right words for things when you start, it takes a lot of googling. if you're really interested, try befriending an old person at an embroider's guild or quilters guild in your city! ask loads of questions, be respectful & admire their work because it takes a lot of time & it's totally fucking Sick to see what people can make its just incredible. if there's anyone in your family who quilts or embroiders or does other fabric art like that, you should for sure talk to them. i mentioned off hand to my gma that i wanted to try to make a quilt & the next day she gave my mum 2kg of fabric & hexagon templates for me. totally wild.

do Not stab yourself with a needle. i wear glasses when i do it because of eye strain & because im stupid & its something i would do. if it is something You would do, consider investing in safety glasses. you can also get things for your thumbs n fingers like thimbles but i have only stabbed my thumb like three times total, its not a big deal.

have fun!

#embroidery tag #you can ignore this

16 notes · View notes

whatstruthgottodowithit · 2 years

Text

The Other Evans Girl [Part Sixty]

Fandom: Harry Potter [Marauder’s Era]

Pairing: Sirius Black/Original Female Character, Sirius Black/Daisy Evans, James Potter/Lily Evans

Characters: Sirius Black, Original Female Character, Daisy Evans, Lily Evans, Remus Lupin, James Potter, Harry Potter, Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall, Alice Fortescue, Frank Longbottom, Marlene McKinnon, Albus Dumbledore, Voldemort, Peter Pettigrew, Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix LeStrange, Walburga Black,

Word Count: 3716

Rating: Mature

Summary: Hogwarts is a safe haven, a home for many. But it’s often a place where heartache, love and complex emotions dwell and none know that better than the Marauders. Lily Evans just wants to make it out as a successful witch though the oncoming war and the ongoing advances of James Potter threaten that. Daisy Evans, her twin, has other goals. Join the Evans sister’s as they make their way through Hogwarts, prepare for war and eventually find love.

Tags/ Warnings: My Writing, The Other Evans Girl, Sirius Black Fic, Sirius Black/You, Sirius Black x OFC, OFC, Marauders Fic, Eventual Sirius Black, Sirius Black x Reader Fic, Sirius Black Fic, James Potter is a bit of a dick but we LOVE it, Hogsmeade, Friends, Hate, Love, Angst, Fluff, Kissing, Implied Sex, Potters, Babies, Weddings, Dating, Friends to Loves, Slow Burn, Eventual Sirius and Daisy, Teenage Angst, Insecurities, Fighting, Arguing, Bullying, War, First Wizarding War, Marauders, Marauder’s Era, 1970’s, 1970s Fashion, Canon Character Deaths, Loss of Virginity, Crying, Voldemort, The Other Evans Girl, Marauders Era to war, Multiple Parts, GORE, injuries, harm, fighting, blood, The Potter’s Mansion // Daisy’s Dress // NYE Lily’s Dress // NYE Daisy’s Dress // Lily’s Ring // Daisy’s Ring

Notes: can i say i dont know how ive churned out sixty parts but oh my i love writing this series

LINK TO AO3 // LINK TO PINTEREST // LINK TO ALL PARTS

TAGS - @maeisafangirl@mysteriouslydelicateface

As January rolled into February excitement started to buzz around the school as Valentine's Day was just around the corner. As everyone scrambled to get a date for the Hogsmede weekend that followed Daisy revelled in the fact that she needn’t worry this year. It wasn’t that she cared much in previous years but she was happy that a day all about love presented an ample opportunity for her and Sirius to make their debut as a couple.

Though it seemed that Daisy hadn’t been the only one doing some thinking. Since Lily had laid her revelation at her sister's feet she’d also been thinking over her decision meticulously. Like everything in the girl’s life she had it planned with military precision which is how she came to speak to her sister the Friday night before Hogsmeade.

They were tidying up the attic after a club meeting. Everyone had left bar the boys and those two, though the boys seemed to have no interest in making the room presentable after they’d spent the night practising how to use and stop the oppungo charm a spell Frank had taught them that made objects come to life and attack leaving quite the disarray in their wake.

As the girls gathered the objects that littered the floor the boys were lounging around on the sofas with Peter boasting about how he was sure to defeat everyone in the gobstones tournament the following morning. Daisy listened to him ramble as she placed the last of the books back on the shelf where they belonged. Once she finished she padded gently over to where Lily was sorting items on a table.

‘I’ve put them all away,’ Daisy said. Lily nodded but didn't say anything, ‘maybe I can do the cushions next?’ Again Lily gave a nod though she didn’t seem to be listening, well, not properly, ‘or I might just put them all at the bottom of the astronomy tower? Fling myself off and see if you’ve actually learnt that slowing charm you were on about?’

‘Yeah, okay,’ Lily mumbled as her fingers arranged the quills in the pot she was holding.

‘Okay so you weren’t listening then,’ Daisy grumbled.

‘What?’ Lily said, looking her sister in the eye, ‘oh sorry.’

‘It’s alright. What’s up?’ Daisy asked. Lily bit her lip and glanced past her sister to where the boys were sitting still wrapped up in whatever Peter was telling them.

‘I’ve decided,’ she whispered.

‘Decided what?’ Daisy said all too loudly causing her sister to hush her. Sirius looked up at them and Lily gave him a small smile before looking back at her sister. Sirius dropped his gaze, whatever they were talking about he was out of earshot and if he got up they’d stop talking altogether. Daisy glanced over her shoulder though she couldn’t see the boys from where she was standing but the way Lily continued made her sure they couldn’t hear.

‘About…well you know,’ Lily said.

‘Oh,’ Daisy said quietly.

‘Yeah, and actually,’ she whispered, ‘I need your help.’

‘What do you want me to draw you a diagram?’ Daisy snorted, earning a swat on her arm from her twin.

‘Of course not!’ Lily said in a hushed tone.

‘Then what?’ Daisy asked genuinely intrigued about what her sister might need from her for this.

‘Well we’re going to need somewhere for…well we need to make sure we won’t be disturbed.’

‘And?’

‘And the easiest place is going to be the dormitory,’ she said, ‘obviously.’

‘Still not seeing how this has anything to do with me,’ Daisy said.

‘Well, Peter’s going to be at his gobstones thing. You can handle Sirius but…’

‘You need Remus out of action,’ Daisy said, catching on.

‘Well…yeah,’ Lily said, flushing deep crimson. Daisy giggled, making her sister’s face darken even more before she whispered, ‘so will you help me?’

Daisy watched her for a moment. This decision had put her in quite the tailspin recently but, of course, that had nothing to do with Lily. Her insecurities were hers only, she knew that. And her sister was asking for her help. She couldn’t refuse.

‘Of course I will.’

✵✵✵

As Daisy dressed for breakfast the following morning she couldn’t help but mull over what excuse she was going to use to get Remus out of the way. Lily had made it quite clear that she was to inform no one, not even Sirius, about what they were up to until after the fact. Before she could dwell on it more Lily came out of the bathroom.

‘Oh good you’re up,’ she said, watching as Daisy slipped on her boots.

‘I’ve been up for half an hour,’ Daisy grumbled, ‘and I’ve needed a wee the whole time.’

‘Sorry,’ Lily said apologetically.

‘It’s alright,’ Daisy said, ‘I figured you might be a little long in the bathroom today.’

‘I couldn’t decide on what eyeshadow to wear,’ Lily said nervously. She took a seat on the end of her bed, chewing on her nails as she did so.

‘Lil,’ Daisy said, ‘I can hand on heart tell you that James Potter does not care about what eyeshadow you’ve got on.’

‘I know,’ Lily said. She looked beautiful but effortlessly so. Her pale complexion was a shade darker now due to her foundation giving her a little more colour than usual. Her eyes were dashed with a variety of nude shadows and a slight wing of eyeliner that she never usually wore and her lips were blood red giving a little glam to her otherwise natural look. And her normal outfit of jeans and a T-shirt was gone, replaced by a skirt and a v-necked shirt Daisy was sure Lily had told her was ‘far too low’ to be worn when it had been hers. However, despite her put-together outfit she looked nervous, Daisy could tell.

‘You know you can change your mind right?’ Daisy said, ‘that’s okay.’

‘I know,’ Lily said.

‘No one’s gonna care if you change your mind,’ Daisy said.

‘I know,’ Lily repeated.

‘Are you gonna get rid of that massive weight from your shoulders then?’ Daisy said.

‘Yeah,’ Lily said, ‘I guess I’m just nervous…what if it’s…’

‘Shit?�� Daisy finished earning an eye roll from her sister.

‘I was going to say not what I expected but yeah,’ she said.

‘Well, I suppose it doesn’t really matter?’ Daisy said, ‘I mean surely the good thing about it is that you can practice and get better.’

‘Yeah I suppose,’ Lily giggled.

‘It’s right up your street isn’t it?’

‘What?’

‘I mean it’s just revision,’ Daisy chuckled, ‘and you’re really good at that.’

‘Oh shut up you,’ Lily said standing up and grabbing her bag. Daisy stood too grabbing her bag and coat and said, ‘ready?’

‘As I’ll ever be,’ Lily said.

The two headed down to breakfast where they found all the boys, Frank and Alice sitting at Gryffindor table. Lily slid in beside James and Daisy took a seat opposite her next to Sirius.

‘Morning,’ he smiled at her and his hand slipped under the table and into hers. They still weren’t actively broadcasting their relationship but it felt nice to be doing so in public.

‘Morning,’ she smiled. She leaned forward to grab a couple of slices of toast, frowning inwardly as she had to let go of his hand to butter it. As she did so she heard a cough from Lily who said, not too subtly, ‘so what’s everyone doing today?’

‘Well, I’ve got my gobstones tournament,’ Peter said, shovelling cornflakes into his mouth.

‘And we’re doing something that is not that,’ Sirius chuckled.

‘Me and Frank are headed into Hogsmede,’ Alice said, nudging Frank’s arm. He looked up from the book he was reading and mumbled an ‘oh yeah,’ before immediately going back to reading.

‘What about you Remus?’ Lily asked.

‘Dunno,’ Remus asked, ‘might do some studying in the library. I’m not fit for much today.’

Daisy watched as Lily’s face paled for a second before she threw a glance at James. Daisy realised he must have been up to speed on her sister’s decision though he seemed not to notice his girlfriend’s dilemma until there was a distinct thudding under the table where Daisy had walloped him in the shin. He grunted before he looked at his friend and said, ‘don’t you fancy heading into the village? I mean a brisk walk might do you good.’

‘Yeah,’ Daisy said, ‘Sirius and I were gonna have lunch in the three broomsticks.’

‘We were?’ Sirius asked, his brows knitting together.

‘I thought I’d told you,’ Daisy lied.

‘Oh I’d love to go to the pub today,’ Peter said, his mouth full of cereal.

‘Yeah but if you don’t go to the gobstones tournament they’ll be down to just what? Three other people?’ James chuckled.

‘What do you say Moony?’ Daisy said, leaning into him. He was sitting on her other side as she rested her head against his shoulder looking up at him with her large green eyes.

Remus looked at her. His eyes narrowed as he watched her and then his friends who were also hanging on his decision. Well, apart from Sirius, who seemed to have the same suspicion he did.

‘Alright,’ he said.

‘Yay,’ Daisy said.

‘Well, that sounds like a plan,’ Sirius said.

✵✵✵

It was baltic. The wind whipped through Hogsmeade attacking anyone who dared stand out in it. Unfortunately for Sirius, this meant him. He was trudging through the snow, next to his best mate, watching as his girlfriend walked a fraction ahead of them babbling as they walked. When she had suggested they come to the village he had supposed it wouldn’t be that bad. But he’d imagined cuddling up with her in the three broomsticks. Risking a quick snog in the changing rooms of Madam Malkins. Not this.

Remus seemed to be on the same wavelength. He was dog tired today even though he was mid cycle. All he had wanted to do was spend the day in the library. Away from all the couples. Away from all the in your face, nauseating love. But Daisy had piqued his interest. There was something a foot. He was sure of it. This idea was only reinforced by the fact Lily and James had somehow managed to escape this trip.

‘Dais,’ Sirius grumbled. He was bundled in jeans and a leather jacket, a thin jumper underneath which was doing nothing to protect him from the cold, ‘how much longer are we gonna do this trek for?’

‘Yeah, we’ll be at John O’Groats at this rate,’ Remus chuckled. He stopped walking as did Sirius though Daisy kept walking for a moment before she realised the sound of footsteps behind her had stopped. She turned and smiled at them sheepishly. The boys shared a look.

‘What’s going on?’ Remus asked.

‘What?‘ Daisy asked, feigning ignorance.

‘Oh come on Dais,’ Sirius smirked, ‘do you think we don’t know you’re up to something?’

‘What would I be up to?’ she asked, folding her arms across her chest.

‘I’m not sure,’ Sirius said, walking up beside her and throwing his arm around her shoulder, ‘but it’s definitely something.’

‘I resent the accusation,’ she said, her arms still crossed.

‘Yeah?’ Remus said.

‘Yeah,’ she replied. Remus had a theory and he decided to test it.

‘Well then,’ he said, ‘I doubt you want to spend time with people who would accuse you of such things. Come on Pads, let’s head back to the castle.’

Remus turned on his heel and headed back towards the village.

‘No!’ Daisy said with a little too much urgency which made Remus turn back with a smug smile, ‘I mean…why don’t we just head back to the pub?’

‘Oh we can but you’re going to tell us what’s going on,’ Sirius said as they walked towards Remus. He fell into step with them as they trudged back the way they came. Their footprints were the only one on the snowy track as they were the only ones mad enough to come out in this weather.Daisy sighed.

‘Fine,’ she said, ‘but you’re buying me a butter beer first.’

Once they were back in the three broomsticks, tucked away in the back corner, the boys sat opposite her watching Daisy as she sipped her drink ignoring them. As she put her drink down she seemed to realise they were looking at her.

‘So,’ Sirius said.

‘So,’ Daisy said.

‘Are you going to tell us why you brought us on this wild goose chase?’ Sirius asked.

‘It’s a long story,’ Daisy said.

‘We’ve got time,’ Remus said.

‘ Well it’s not my idea,’ she said, ‘it was-‘

‘-Lily and James,’ the boys said in unison. Daisy smirked, ‘So they’re not as clever as they think they are.’

‘Oh I’m sure Pete has no idea what’s going on,’ Sirius chuckled.

‘Yeah but he wasn’t the problem,’ Daisy said.

‘Problem?’ Remus asked.

‘Yeah,’ she said sheepishly, ‘they sorta needed to be alone.’

‘Well they could’ve just found somewhere private,’ Sirius said, ‘like the astronomy tower eh Dais?’

‘They-‘

‘Didn’t want to get caught,’ Remus said. Sirius looked at him curiously, an expression that grew deeper as Daisy said, ‘yeah.’

‘Hang on, am I missing something?’ Sirius asked.

‘Surely you can figure it out mate,’ Remus said, raising his eyebrows. An icy feeling flooded through Daisy at his words.

‘Figure it out the two of them wanted us out the castle so they could be alone and oh, oh,’ Sirius said, ‘well in Prongs.’

‘Sirius,’ Daisy chastised.

‘What? He’s the one shagging your sister not me,’ Sirius chuckled though he winced as she thumped him on the arm, ‘ow!’

‘She's right mate whatever they get up to behind closed doors and all that,’ Remus said.

‘Hey I wasn’t the one talking about it with my sister,’ Sirius said smugly.

‘That’s different, we're girls,’ Daisy said.

‘Like James won’t tell us everything later,’ Remus said. The three of them laughed as Daisy said, ‘yeah I suppose you’re right. I doubt there’ll be anyone left in our year that doesn’t know by tonight.’

‘Yeah because they’ll all be wondering why James internally combusted,’ Sirius joked, making them all laugh once more. After the laughter died down Remus looked at the pair of them all of a sudden feeling very much like a third wheel.

‘So,’ he started, ‘now that I know to avoid the dorm like the plague I'm okay to be released from being babysat?’

‘Rem, I wasn’t babysitting you,’ Daisy said.

‘No I know,’ he said, ‘but I’ve got stuff to do…and I’m sure the pair of you wouldn’t mind being left alone right?’

‘Oh feel free to bugger off on my account,’ Sirius smirked, earning him a dig in the ribs from Daisy.

‘Don't be daft,’ she said, ‘you can stay with us if you want. We like having you around.’

‘Nah,’ he said, ‘I think the library is calling.’

Daisy wanted to protest but she could see he was determined to leave them. If she was being honest she didn’t want to be alone with Sirius. Her worries from before we’re threatening to creep back in. Even more so now he knew what his friends were up to this afternoon. She nodded allowing him to hug her before he patted Sirius on the shoulder and exited the pub.

‘So,’ Sirius said once he was gone, ‘what now?’

✵✵✵

Since Remus had headed off to the library and all their other friends were occupied Daisy and Sirius decided to head up to the attic out of the way. They’d been up there a couple of hours, listening to music which eventually turned into talking over the music. To her surprise, Daisy’s nerves seemed to disappear when she and Sirius were alone together. She was sitting on the sofa, her legs across his with her back against the arm, babbling away about her muggle studies essay.

He didn’t know how the conversation had gone from talking about Led Zeppelin to muggle studies because in all honesty he hadn’t been listening. He was too busy staring at her. Too busy looking at how her eyes lit up a little when she got in the swing of talking. Too busy noticing just how much she used her hands when she spoke. Too busy looking at her lips, which were chapped from the cold outside but still begging for him to kiss them. So, as she spiralled through her conversation Sirius watched until she paused, noticing him ogling her.

‘What?’ she said.

‘Nothing,’ he said, ‘I just love watching you talk.’

‘Oh,’ she said with a pink tinge rising on her cheeks, ‘you mean you weren’t listening to a word I was saying right?’

‘Oh for sure,’ he said with a wide smile. Daisy smiled back at him. He looked good today though she always thought that. His grey eyes seemed lighter and his hair tousled from where he had pushed it out of his face when walking through the snow. His hand came to her cheek, catching her chin in between his thumb and forefinger as he leaned in and placed a kiss on her lips.

Daisy melted into it, wrapping her arms around his neck as she deepened it. He allowed her to and she swung her legs off of him so she could move into his lap, her legs on either side as her hands knotted in his hair. Sirius groaned a little, causing a tingling sensation to form in Daisy’s lower stomach. His hands were on her hips, dancing under the hem of her shirt, amping that feeling on a little more.

To her surprise, Daisy didn’t stop. All the worries she’d been having didn’t seem to come to the surface now. She moved a little causing a little friction between them which Sirius grunted at. He pulled his mouth off of hers and started kissing down her neck, his fingers going to the hem of her jumper and motioning it up a little. And then she felt it. Hard against her thigh. Sirius. Daisy stopped, her hands no longer moving through his hair and her hips no longer rubbing against him. Sirius didn’t seem to notice for a moment but when he felt her go still he pulled back, a little breathless.

‘What’s the matter?’ he said, looking at her with confusion.

‘Nothing,’ she lied, going back to kiss him. Sirius tilted his face so her kisses dotted along his jaw.

‘Dais,’ he said. His hands hadn’t moved from her hips but he gripped them a little differently forcing her to stop. She looked down at him nervously as he looked back at her expectantly. She sighed and slipped off his lap to sit beside him.

‘Is everything okay?’ he said, ‘I didn’t hurt you or-’

‘No,’ she said, waving him off, ‘of course you didn’t.’

‘Then what is it?’ he asked.

‘It’s nothing…I just…you were…’ she started. A blush crept back onto her face as she nervously played with the fringe on a cushion behind him.

‘I was?’ he asked, his brows knitted together again.

‘A little…excited,’ she said, glancing quickly at his lap and then back at his face.

‘Oh,’ he said, ‘well yeah.’

Daisy wanted the ground to swallow her up. She didn’t know why she was all of a sudden so embarrassed. It was Sirius for god’s sake. She dropped her gaze from his. Sirius’ bemusement turned to worry as he placed a hand on her knee, ‘Dais?’

‘I know I’m being silly,’ she said looking up at him. He was watching her with concern.

‘Silly about what?’ he asked, confused.

‘Well, since Lil told me about…y’know, I’ve been panicking because I’m not Lil. I mean we’re two different people right? We’re not going to, I mean it’s not that I don’t want to, I just, we just,’ she babbled.

‘Sweetheart you’re gonna have to catch me up because I’m not getting-’

‘I don’t want to have sex with you,’ she blurted out. Sirius looked at her for a moment and said, ‘oh.’

‘No,’ she started, ‘I don’t mean it like that.’

‘Well can you tell me what you do mean? Cos I’m still a little lost here,’ he said with a smile which reassured her.

‘Since Lil told me about her and James I’ve been worrying…because I’m not there yet,’ she said, biting her lip.

‘Well that’s okay,’ he said.

‘It’s not that I don’t want to eventually,’ she said, ‘I’m just not…’

‘Ready to jump my bones?’ he laughed.

‘Yeah,’ she said quietly, ‘you don’t mind do you?’

‘Why would I mind?’ he asked.

‘Well you’re a guy,’ she pointed out.

‘Okay, so, I’m not going to pretend I haven’t thought about it,’ he chuckled, ‘but if you’re not ready I’m not going to demand it happens today. Or this week. I’m happy for you to lead.’

‘But, what about…’ she said, dropping her voice again. Sirius watched her expectantly, urging for her to elaborate, ‘I mean you’re not exactly a novice when it comes to girls. I thought you’d be all gung ho.’

‘Dais, you should know by now that you can’t trust everything the Hogwarts rumour mill puts out,’ he said. He moved his arm onto the back of the couch now, leaning in so their heads were almost touching.

‘Huh?’ she said confused, ‘but you’ve dated so many girls.’

‘Dated yeah,’ he said, ‘slept with no.’

‘And Mar?’ she asked. She didn’t know why. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to know what her boyfriend and her best friend had got up to in the time they were together.

‘Fooled around I’ll admit. But we never went all the way,’ he said, dropping his volume a little as he said, ‘I’ve never slept with anyone.’

‘No?’ she said hope evident in her voice.

‘I’ve been busy moping after you for the past year and a half,’ he smirked, ‘believe it or not no one fancies a lad who's busy pining for his best friend.’

‘I do,’ she chuckled, leaning in and giving him a peck on the lips.

‘Good,’ he said, ‘because even if we aren’t shagging there’s no way I wanna stop kissing you.’

11 notes · View notes

svankmajerbaby · 1 year

Note

✨️🎀🎈💞💝🕯🎙🤲💌

!! thank u so much for the ask. i love talking about writing......

✨ What's a fic you've posted you wish you could breathe life into again and have people talking about it? (or simply a fic you wish got more credit)

-hmm theres a point in which i have to tell myself not to worry about likes or comments bc what really matters is me getting the practise and exercising my writing muscles and having fun with it... But. i do wish i could get more ppl into my toy story fic. its got a whole bunch of wonderful comments and kudos and stuff, i just feel so proud of it and writing it came so easy and i poured so much of my love into it, i really really wish anyone who loves these characters would read it too.

🎀 give yourself a compliment about your own writing

-english is not my first language so grammar isnt often The Best, but i take a lot of care with using words and expressions as correctly as possible, and I try to always spell words right (i dont think ive ever confused loose and lose, for example, which ive seen confused a few times). some descriptions of spaces are particularly well done, at least to my own criteria, and the song choices are fun (or at least fun to write and picture in my head).

🎈 describe your style as a writer; is it fixed? does it change?

- honestly, ive no idea. i think i get verbose, and i write long dialogue scenes. i overuse the — to lead into another thought, because thats kind of like how my mind works. i try to be "cinematic" in my writing and always start a scene with a description of a place, its lighting and its sounds, like im used to when writing scripts. and i got the sense that usually the characters often ramble and go on long discussions about stuff that maybe normal people wouldnt just start out discussing so strongly. but honestly id much rather someone else outside my own perspective told me what my writing is like, i would trust them more than my own opinion.

💞 what's the most important part of a story for you? the plot, the characters, the worldbuilding, the technical stuff (grammar etc), the figurative language

-the characters!! everything is important, and stuff like grammar often jumps out first for me... but i need to enjoy how the characters are written, and feel like theyre real people with genuine motivations and interactions. i dont mind too much if theyre not super alike to canon, as long as they feel true to the core of their personality and values.

💝 what is a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?

-i was surprised to even get comments on my barbie frankenstein one. i loved writing it and it came through so easily and comfortably, but even though i had used that moderately popular meme of reimagining barbie as a gothic protagonist as inspiration i didnt really think it would be anything but something i liked to picture existing. i was so happy to see people enjoyed it too.

🕯️(there are two questions with this candle emoji symbol? i chose the first one, idk why theres two) was there a fic that was really hard on you to write, or took you to a place you didn't think it would take you?

-the tiff fic :'^) ive always liked writing sorta dark stuff, ever since i was little, but this was on another level. sometimes i felt (and still do) feel a bit awkward bc i really do push myself to write stuff i feel a bit embarrassed or shocked by, but i do think that if i want to be a better writer it does me good to make an effort to depict stuff that makes me uncomfortable and seek to write it in a sense of finding a way to both make if effective and relatively tasteful (or at the very least in-character).

🎙️which one of your fics would you like someone to make a pod-fic of?

- i have never heard about pod-fic before, but i guess i can imagine what it is (wonder if its like an audiobook, or if it has sound effects and the like??). i would love to listen to an audiobook of the barbie frankenstein fic mostly bc i would love so so much to hear the dramatic literary dialogue ive written in kelly sheridans barbie voice. also now that i think about it i have no idea what the creature would even sound like... that would be an interesting challenge.

🤲 what do YOU get out of writing?

-practise writing in english, a sense of accomplishment (when i get to finish something!!) and every once in a while some strong validation in the form of ppl liking what i write... all of it is super valuable to me, especially practise and the push and drive to finish stuff to upload, but the validation in particular just really hits that dopamine in my brain i guess

💌 share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

-its from the glen and glenda fic im halfway planning! i got a few dialogues written and some scenes sketched out, but its still a long way to go. im very excited about it tho! ive grown to really love the versions of the twins ive made in my head. hopefully theyre faithful to their screen depictions while also adding a bit more depth and character building ive wanted to take them through.

#. 🦴#i just noticed a writing mistake in that screencap of my glen n glenda fic fbfnnfjfhdhd #i didnt mention it but im also super proud of my mothers day fic. its the only one i made thats short and to the point #while still being effective like. emotionally. and i like the dialogue i did for it #idk man i love writing so much and even with how much im struggling with writing now #i still get such a rush of being able to make such things by stringing words together

2 notes · View notes

nel-world · 3 months

Text

you are overqualified why do u want to go?

his mom would have conversations abour rice? does ur mom cook rice ?

what does she use ? it is brown?

there is small /little rice

u are from bombai .. you know ..

onions are looking so big

potatos so big..

i took public transport .we just stand the bus driver would stop and open the door. can you open the door?can u open the gate? u have ring the bell

hello , my name is azghi

i like basebell

im practising my introduction

i leave my home in india

i fly fly fly and land in america

im very excited

my entire village has turned up

i have passport

u know im first person to fly

i have a letter

dear azghni , its wonderful place

im going to help u

u can live with us and see america

he owned a restaurant

400 east 6 th st

the world , galaxy

hey ma , dont cry

when i go america , i will write every day

i will from top from empire state , bottom from grand canyon, hollywood

i will write from cleveland

i will be rich and i will invite u

what is this

a stone

u are giving a stone

story of riverstone

i dont r

im keeping it

i threw it away

i keep it

it is in my pocket

i have to go

u made it

this is new york is a crazy place

this is my job

im manager here

im the owner

im the waiter

its such a good job

u know mr hakim were waiting at airport

they two children

samir is 10 year

he is playing with gameboy

how am i doing

sakina is older

dont u worry , soon u will catch on

i have no idea

if u smile , nod u head , people love u

mr hakim is my best friend .. let me tell u something profound

any one can be rich

i just smile

u are absoultely

one day u are millionaire

america can u give u nothing

my dream is classical indian dancer

show me i used to dance

i used to dance

she closed her eyes

her arms and hips

i think u should

then she told me she is going to teach me dance

i try

i put my wrists and turn my hand

im very good this

i can be dancer myself

i can do much than cook food

u bught present for me

hello bob , business is good , dinner for 5

very proud of him

i understand

time is money

what is this dress

u think are too smart

u can marry black guy,white guy

why did i can to restaurant

so that i can proud of u

why did i came here , it is for u

they teach u about

i know

its all fun and games

and then what

everything will be gone

dont speak to me in english

look what u have become

dancing is iportant but im not

help ur mother in kitchen

sakina is getting married

its a party , there are lot of people

there is a dj playing songs

how could u leave ur stuff, u need to clean up

i give the gameboy.. give me postcard

u know what what

my sister sent picture of ninja turtles

we were supposed to go

but my grandmother died

u know what happened happened

u know what

i had a fight

im doing that

no way

u know what happeend

then i called upstairs

to see pics

do u remmeber

u can hold my gameboy for 5 mins

i kicked him

its my five minutes

im not even sorry

he stole my gameboy

im not coming here

why do u hit me

everyone is stupid

we were supposed not to

im sorry

button up his pants. Thank you Angel, I mean Kar—…I mean

Angel.

///

AZGI:ABDUL! I need two puri’s on table five! I need two lassi’s on

table six, and this lamb curry is COLD COLD, COLD! Food, Abdul,

is supposed to be HOT, HOT! Not COLD! How come you don’t

seem to understand that????? (Azgi runs to speak to one of his

tables. To first table.) I am very sorry. In all the time that I have

worked in this restaurant, food is NEVER cold, NEVER! He is heating it up right now. I will bring it out in two minutes and you just

keep enjoying your…water. (He moves to the second table.)

Hello, how are you? My name is Azgi, I will be your waiter. How

can I help you? Oh yeah, it is kind of spicy, but we have a scale.

You see, you can order how spicy you would like one, two, three,

four, five. You decide, he’ll make it.—What?—You want number

five? (Azgi is a little concerned.) Sir don’t take number five, take

number two—No, no, number two is better for you, it’s very

good, you’ll like it very much.—Please sir, don’t take number five.

Sir I am trying to save your life OK. (Getting angry.) look, look in

my eyes OK, number two is better for you. OK you think about it

I will come back OK. (He runs upstage again.) ABDUL!—Where is

my lamb curry ????

(The lamb curry seems to have appeared on the line.)

AZGI:A-ha! (He runs over to the first table with the imaginary

lamb curry. It is very hot and burns his hands.) There you go. OK?

piping hot—What happened? Why you look so sad? Not

lamb?—CHICKEN.—Oh my God!—No, no, please sit down.

Where you going? please don’t leave, sit down, I am very sorry,

this is a terrible mistake, I will bring out chicken in just two minutes, please don’t leave, whatever you do don’t leave. (He runs

over to second table.) OK, OK, look I tell you what, number three,

number three is plenty hot, plenty hot. You don’t need number

five. LISTEN MAN!! I AM FROM INDIA!!! and even in India

nobody asks for number five! It’s not a real thing that you can

eat, it’s just for show. I am not screaming, you are screaming!

Look, look, now your wife is crying! I didn’t make her cry, you

made her cry! OK, OK. Fine, Fine, you want five, fifteen, one hundred five!! I give you OK!

ABDUL!—- Listen on dup forty-one, I put number five, but

you don’t make it number five, you make it number two, OK?

And this lamb curry is supposed to be chicken curry—Because I

am telling you, that’s why. Because I am the boss right now OK,

Listen you give me any trouble no, I will have Mr. Hakim fire

you!!!—Oh, yeah? Oh, yeah? Come on, Come on Abdul (He puts

up his fists.) I will take you right now! I will kick your butt so hard

that you will be making lamb curry for the tigers in India! Oh,

yeah? Come on, Big Guy, come on, Big Guy, come on, Big Guy,

come on—

(Suddenly Azgi is faced with Abdul who grabs him by the collar.)

AZGI:—BIG GUY! I am joking, man. I am just kidding around, why

you take me so seriously?—please don’t kill me. (Turning.) Every

night I have the same dream. I am a giant tandoori chicken wearing an Armani suit. I am sitting behind the wheel of a speeding

Cadillac. I have no eyes to see, no mouth to speak and I don’t

know where I am going. Mr. Hakim, he come up to me, he say,

“Azgi, Azgi, Azgi, you have to calm down, man, he say to me, he

say “Success, Azgi, is like a mountain. From far away it is inspiring, but when you get close, you realize that it is simply made of

earth and dirt and rocks, piled one on top of the other until it

touches the sky.” Mr. Hakim, he is a smart man, but I wonder to

myself when God was building the mountain and piling the rock,

one on top of the other, was he working or playing? (He begins

to ponder this thought, and then suddenly he smiles and goes

over to the first table.) Hello, my name is Azgi…I am working…and playing. (He goes over to the second table.) Hello my

name is Azgi, I am working and playing…how are you ? (He goes

over and looks in the direction of Abdul, and blows him a big

kiss.) ABDUL…I love you man!!!!

(Phone rings, Azgi turns and looks at the audience.)

AZGI:Phone! (He picks up the phone.) Hello, Sakina’s Restaurant

Azgi speaking, how may I—Oh Oh Mr. Hakim? No No He is right

here, I will get him—

Sakina’s Restaur

We decided to watch a called no way home because we kept seeing its ads on youtube. We knew the trailer so well that we could say it word for word. Mark's favorite line was when the lead actor talks about his girlfriend in the movie. Mark would repeat it all the time,

So, we went to the movie theater, hoping to see that scene . But to our disappointment, the lead actor didn't say that line at all. In fact, the whole scene we were waiting for wasn't even in the movie! We left feeling upset

As we left,. We realized we could just go watch another movie without paying again. We felt a little bad, but we had spent a lot on snacks, so we didn't feel too guilty. Plus, we felt like we deserved to watch another movie since no way home let us down.

We ended up watching a movie instead. It was good, and since we hadn't seen any ads for it, we weren't disappointed.

i needed a car , i could rely on public transport

and all i had was 2000$ so i bought a ford car

so after few rides , it started giving problems

the transmission broke..the power steering didnt work

i couldnt find parking on campus..

Is your minivan all fixed?" Larry inquired.

"Yeah, but it cost us a pretty penny," Mark sighed.

"How much did they charge you?" Larry's eyes widened.

"$2500," Mark responded.

"$2500? You've gotta be kidding me! $2500 for a new transmission?" Larry exclaimed.

"A new what?" Mark looked puzzled, glancing at me in the backseat.

"A transmission. An automatic one. That's what you had replaced, right?" Larry clarified.

"Oh, right, yeah, a new transmission," I confirmed.

"Well, it sounds like they're pulling a fast one on you," Larry said as he dialed a number on his phone.

He called someone named Rocko, then his buddy Kurt, both of whom echoed his sentiment that we were getting ripped off. Mark nervously suggested haggling, but I pointed out that we already agreed to the price.

As we pulled into the garage, Larry insisted we stand our ground. "You tell 'em you ain't gonna be taken for a ride," he advised.

larry gets out of the car an goes in and talks to car dealer.

After a few minutes, Larry returned with a grin. "Saved you a few bucks, boys," he announced proudly.

When we settled up, the bill had mysteriously been reduced by $500.

I still don't know what Larry said or did in that office, but his advice and charm saved us some serious cash. Now, we just hoped the new transmission would hold up.

///

There are few things that bring my father as much joy as clearance sales.

It's not so much the food that my dad loves at Denny's—he only knows three flavors anyway: salt, butter, and A-1 Steak Sauce. No, what he adores is the simplicity, the straightforwardness of the entire Denny's experience, especially the menu.

“You don’t even have to read anything,” he’d say. “You look at the pictures of the food, you pick what you want, and you point.” And that’s precisely what he does. We'd settle at a table in Denny's, he'd crack open the menu to a Moons Over My Hammy or whatever caught his fancy, and he'd point. “I want that.” Not a word more, not a word less. It's the perfect restaurant routine.

we bought couch

So, off we went, driving at a snail's pace—twenty miles per hour in a forty-five-mile-per-hour zone. The officer followed my dad quietly for a few miles before my father suddenly pulled over, even though the officer hadn't signaled with lights or sirens. I followed suit.

After the officer wrote us both tickets for having unsafe loads, he warned us not to drive with the furniture again or risk getting more tickets. Stuck on the side of the road, my dad asked if I knew anyone with a truck. That was like asking if I knew anyone at all.

///

You ever have those gym ,PE classes that make you question why you even bother showing up? . Coach McAndrew, bless her heart, she had all the enthusiasm of a cheerleader at a spelling bee.

Coach blowing her whistle like it's her only source of oxygen. "Forward rolls, backward somersaults, cartwheels, repeat!" she says, as if we're all Olympic gymnasts in the making.

How am I supposed to learn by watching them? It’s like telling someone to learn how to swim by watching a fish.

I muster up the courage to approach Coach. "Excuse me, I don’t know how to do any of those things. Can I please go to the library?" I ask, hoping she'd see reason. But nope, she hits me with the classic "No pain, no gain" line, like she's trying to motivate a sack of potatoes.

So, there I am, at the back of the line, watching these kids effortlessly roll, somersault, and cartwheel like it's second nature.

Finally, it's my turn. I kneel down, put the top of my head on the mat, and just pray for a miracle. But all I manage to do is roll sideways off the mat—splat—onto the wooden gym floor.

All pain, no gain, and a side of humiliation. Can't wait for next week's adventure in awkwardness.

This is America? I’m fucking in! Big Pimpin’ was the epitome of the American dream and I needed to be part of it. I wanted to be like these larger-than-life American superheroes they called rappers. I wanted to be a pimp like Jay-Z and a gangster like 50 Cent. I made it my life’s goal to live the Big Pimpin’ lifestyle. Whenever I watched BET, I forgot I was a small foreign Chinese boy and I felt like a badass gangsta. I started imitating how the rappers walked and how they talked. I would go up to my classmates and say, “Yo what up, dog. Our geometry teacher is a bitch, homie.” I felt like my identity was being judged based on the other Asians around me instead of my own personality, my inside voice screamed, I listen to Jay-Z, motherfuckers! In high school,

thong thong thong thong thong!” This was one of the first songs I heard on American radio. It was catchy as hell, but I had no idea what a thong was. Then when I saw the music video, everything made sense.

I couldn’t rap for shit, but I wanted so badly to be part of the glamorous rap game that I’d seen on Rap City. Chris downloaded a bootleg copy of Sony’s ACID Music Studio, a beat-making software, and he started cranking out some sick beats. Then Jeremy, Phil and I would go to Chris’s mom’s apartment and record our raps on his five-dollar computer microphone. Next thing you know, we’d formed a rap group just like N.W.A. Chris’s mom’s apartment and his Dell desktop became our recording studio. We felt like the real deal and we called ourselves Syndakit. The first time I recorded at Chris’s house, he played me a beat he had just made. It sounded like a real track I’d heard on Rap City. I pulled out my notebook and I was ready to write my first rhymes, but I

I never got a record deal, but I experienced creative freedom for the first time

offer to buy one and get the other for half price , my father was first in line.

his ability to consume knew no bounds.his favorite was chocolate pean with extra sprinkles

when i orderd plan old chocolate icecream , he took it as an insult

they have thirty two flavors andu order chocaloate

u can get chocolate anywhere , why did we come to america

we didnt sacrifice everything come to here so u could be satisfied with plain old chocolate ice cream

i just want medium soda

get the large

u get extra large for thirty nine cents more

America was Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory and he was a ten-year-old who had won a golden ticket.

Let me tell you what is really embarrassing,” he continued. “Having only one pair of shoes, that’s embarrassing. Having to study for your exams under a street lamp because you don’t have your own room, that’s embarrassing. Hanging off the side of a train on your way to work because it’s so crowded and you can’t afford a seat, that’s embarrassing.”

Yellow highlight | Page: 57

“When will you become an American?” he continued. “Okay, pour the extra thirty-nine cents-worth into a cup and I will drink it later.”

///

I saw a job posting in the college newspaper for telemarketer and decided to interview for it. The college building was squeezed between a sandwich place and a bookstore. The guy interviewing me looked a bit like Paul Giamatti from "Billions," but there were definitely no billions to be made here.

During the interview, he asked simple questions like who had used a computer before and who knew how to use a phone, how to type basic english. I got hired and was given a script to follow.

I got hired and was given a script to follow. My job was to keep people/alumni on the line and chat about how great the university was still doing.

I was supposed to ask alumni like Milli for a hundred bucks to support the college.

but milli response was "Oh, I'm sorry, hun. I'm barely scraping by on a fixed income. I'd love to help, really, but a hundred dollars? not happening."

So, I lowered the amount to fifty dollars, but still got a no. Then I tried twenty dollars, and she agreed to make the donation.

After working for an hour, a bell rang for a break. The boss, stood on a chair and called out how much money everyone had brought in. He gave cookies to the top three earners.

Overall, it was an interesting experience, but I only worked there for a few weeks before my semester started, and I quit the telemarketing job.

“BE CAREFUL!” my roommate WILLIAM TOLD ME . “I am being careful!” I said, grabbing the dvd from him and totally not being careful.It wasn't contraband or illicit substances..it was dance dvd.. I was staring at it in awe, my heart pounding like crazy.

cuoristy got the better of me and I put the dvd in my vcr. And What unfolded on the screen was unlike anything I’d ever saw.

and what captivated me even more was drummer in the corner setting the rhythm and this guy was dancing to the beat in rhythm…it was beautiful…

soon i was playing drums…

coach andrew, transmission,affleck movie,

, clearance sales-denny's,

I needed a job. Scanning through the student paper, I found an opening in the computer lab. It seemed perfect, except for the minor detail that I knew next to nothing about computers. All I knew was that if something goes wrong, you should reboot the computer. Sure, I could switch a computer on, but i knew nothing about coding, programming, troubleshooting.

I interviewed with this quiet guy who wore glasses, named Dominick. He wore a buttoned-up shirt, light brown khakis, and Nike running sneakers. "Hi, Kunal, nice to meet you,” he said, in a soft, high-pitched voice. “I am looking for some people to be computer lab managers. What are your skills?”

“Troubleshooting, programming, Excel, PowerPoint,” I said.

“Can you give me more details?”

"Sure, I've read courses online, fixed bugs on my computer, and developed applications."

"I like you. I’m going to hire you,” he said as we shook hands. Bingo! “Given your advanced skill set, I’m going to give you a very special project.”

He turned to the computer and opened up a software program I had never seen. “The school is trying to integrate this new voice recognition software. I want you to figure it out, dissect it, and write an entire instruction manual based on what you’ve learned.”

So three days a week, four hours each shift, my job was to sit at the computer and try to figure out voice recognition software. The first day I took the job very seriously. I spoke into the microphone and compared what I said to the words that appeared on the screen: “The cat drank the cow’s milk,” I said. On-screen: "You drank the milk." I said it slowly again… "You drank the milk" again… I basically gave up on the project after a few days, and each shift I would spend fifteen minutes on voice recognition, and then would spend the rest of my time chatting.

The week passed, the instruction manual was due and it was time to face the music. I decided to write something… click the L button… etc.

“I just got an email from the university. I have some troubling news.” Shit. My scholarships. Dominick took off his glasses. “The school has decided to put a stop to the software. The license has expired.”

I said, “Whatever’s best for the university."

“Because of your hard work and commitment to this project, I’m going to promote you to lab manager of the engineering building.” He gave me a raise, bumping me up to nine dollars an hour, which was damn good money at the time. I was a good lab manager.

/////

After finishing college, I got a job as a waiter in a restaurant. But I also had to wash dishes.

Sadly, I wasn't very good at it. I was slow.

The restaurant needed clean dishes to keep running. So, even though I was slow, I had to keep going.

The owner would tell me to just keep washing.

He often came over to me at the sink, shaking his head and yelling.

He'd say, "Wash the pots first! Why are you washing the plates? We have lots of plates!"

When he got really frustrated, he'd grab the spray nozzle from me and

quickly clean a bunch of pots in just a few minutes.

I got a job as used car salesman.

Apparently, you need zero qualifications to become a used-car salesman."

The car lot manager, Larry, was a sixty-year-old car salesman and a alcoholic. I wouldnt see him for days and then he would come and sell ten Dodge Neons in a week.

I looked up to him as a top-notch car pusher.

I learnt car sales from Larry and soon i became good that i could afford HomeTown Buffet once a week.

and i know one day, if i worked hard and I'd be able to afford Red Lobster.

It's been three days since I lost the pool key, and now my mom is mad at me. It feels like she has a superpower that keeps her angry without a break whenever I mess up, which is why I try my best to never do anything wrong.

It's like there's a flashing neon sign on my forehead: "HORRIBLE, TERRIBLE, GOOD-FOR-NOTHING KID WHO LOST THE POOL KEY. $50 DOWN THE DRAIN!"

I try to explain to her that Cindy and I put up twenty flyers all over, and I understand that fifty dollars is equivalent to three hundred and fifty tomans in Iran, which is a lot of money to flush down the toilet. That's what it'll feel like if we have to pay the landlady.

"Why don't you check the clothes dryer and all your pockets?" my dad suggests, im filled with hope. I search through all my clothes, inspecting the washer and dryer, even go through the vacuum cleaner bag. I c heck between the sofa cushions and manage to find twelve cents.

But still, no pool key. The following day, my dad suggests praying to Saint Anthony, claiming it always works. "Saint Anthony, you mean?" I ask.

My mom , suggests we ask Saint Anthony to come over and look for the key instead. "He's a saint, so he's been dead for a long time," I tell her. "If you think a dead man is going to help you find the key, good luck," she retorts.

but I decide to pray, and, my prayers are answered when a neighbor finds the key gives it to the apartment office.

communication is the key. That's the key to a relationship. That's how you build intimacy, through communication. It's very important to talk and listen to your partner so you can both grow as a unit.

but It's just talking and talking and talking. And I was listening to every word 'cause I thought, you know, there was a point. But there's no point. I should've hired an AI for her to talk to. 'Cause there were so many things I just didn't care about. "Should I move this couch or get a new one? I don't know what to do with this room. What do you think?"

It was a psychotic, babbling conveyor belt of nonsense. "I went to get my nails done, but they didn't have the polish I want.

One of the differences was, I learned this from her, raised to ask questions. You have to ask questions like, "Why? How come? How much? That much? Why should I spend that much?" And, , we don't want to ask questions 'cause we don't want any information. "Look, I didn't see nothin', I don't know nothin'.

" So the questions started driving me crazy. It was like falling asleep with a Spanish radio station on.

Why do you think we possess some mysterious knowledge we're keeping from you? We go to see a movie, she's like, "Now, who's that guy?" "Did I write this thing? I came in with you. How the hell do I know who that guy is? What do you want me to do, show up early?

So she leaves, right? It's all over.

I'm sitting in my room for two weeks straight. my roommate says

They don't want you to talk to them. They don't want you to listen to them. They want you to agree with them. And if you don't agree with them, they just keep talking and talking and talking until you do. and then they will say I'm glad we talked about it.'"

When I was a kid, I had this bright yellow Yamaha YZ80 dirt bike. It was super fast, and I loved riding it around. But my mom hated it.

"Josep, you ride that thing, and I swear to God you’re going to die!" she'd yell at me. And I'd be like, "Mom, it's fine. I'm totally safe." But she wasn't having it.

"What, do you want to die? Is that it? Ha?" she'd say. And I'd respond, "No, Mom, I don't want to die." But then she'd hit me with, "Or maybe you want to kill me from worrying. Yes, that’s it—you want to kill me." And I'd just stand there like, "No, Mom, I don’t want to kill you."

But she wasn't done. "No, no, maybe it’s better if I die anyway. I go to heaven, at least I don’t have to worry anymore. Go ahead, keep riding the motorcycle." And I'd be like, "Fine. Fine! I won’t ride the motorcycle anymore!" But let's be real, I kept riding that motorcycle.

One time, a cop caught me riding the bike without headlights. He was really mad and told me to leave the bike and get in his car. I thought I was in big trouble, preparing myself for the worst—prison, electric chair, death by firing squad—whatever it was. I'm practically begging to go to jail at this point, but no dice.he took me home.

When we got to my house, my mom was freaking out because she thought I was missing. She was yelling at my sisters, too. The cop could hear everything, but he didn't seem to care. He walked me up to the door, and my mom answered, acting all polite.

But as soon as she saw me, she flipped out. She dragged me inside and slammed the door in the cop's face. That was the only time my mom ever hit me, but it wasn't physical. It was all the yelling and arguing that really hurt.

clearance sales-denny's

coach andrew

Most people who are obsessed by America are fascinated by the physical–the cars, the music, the movies, the clothes, the gadgets, the sport, the cities, the landscape and the landmarks. I am interested in all of those, of course I am, but I (perhaps because of my father’s decision) am interested in something more. I have always wanted to get right under the skin of American life. To know what it really is to be American, to have grown up and been schooled as an American; to work and play as an American; to romance, labour, succeed, fail, feud, fight, vote, shop,

Yellow highlight | Location: 179

, I will offer this: the overwhelming majority of Americans I met on my journey were kind, courteous, honourable and hospitable beyond expectation. Such striking levels of warmth, politeness and consideration were encountered not just in those I was meeting for on-camera interview, they were to be found in the ordinary Americans I met in the filling-stations, restaurants, hotels and shops too. If I were to run out of petrol in the middle of the night I would feel more confident about knocking on the door of an American home than one in any other country I know–including my own. The friendly welcome, the generosity, the helpfulness of Americans

I don’t know where he learns how to hail strangers, but whenever my father needs directions—which is frequently—he flags down men and women alike with the same greeting: “Hey, bud!” I grow up thinking of all Americans as Bud—and even though my father’s name is Ghassan Saleh Abu-Jaber, he becomes the original Bud. I learn early: We are Arab at home and American in the streets. The streets are where Bud speaks English in a loud voice, swaggers, wears hard-soled shoes.

Bud is a great talker in our family of mostly listeners. He soliloquizes on the history of the Arab-Israeli conflict, beginning with the Bible; delivers a dissertation on free will versus destiny; and offers several exhortations addressing the nature of animals, the difference between men and women, and the meaning of the universe. He tells endless jokes and instructional stories starring his favorite classic Arab character—Jeha the joker.

This time, Bud tells us, it’s different. The place he plans to buy is perfect, perfect, perfect (excellent location, good foot traffic, high visibility, loyal clientele). A can’t-miss. The owner is selling his treasured restaurant at a clearance price because he and his wife—the head chef—are getting a divorce. Bud is ecstatic as he describes his family utopia: “I will be in back, creating! You and your sisters will be out front, taking the orders and making the customers happy and laughing.” He sits back and studies the ceiling. “It’s going to be running together like this—”

According to Bud, this golden place, no mere restaurant, will be a Shangri-la that finally heals the old wound between East and West. All languages will be spoken here, all religions honored. And the food will be pure and true as the first food, the kind that weighed down golden boughs and shone in the wind. A business of one’s own—at last! “You see this bamia?” he says to us, holding up a chunk of okra stewed in tomato on his fork. “Americans are nervous with bamia because they fear the slime. You know how to take away the slime?” My sisters and I shake our heads. “You have to boil it good first and then you fry it! And sometimes you reverse it. How many people you think know about that?” We marvel. Not many. Hardly anybody. “When we get our restaurant,” he says, and eats his bite of okra, “it will be full of secrets like this.”

Yellow highlight | Page: 171

There are weeks and then months of debates, schemes, and outlines. The phone rings at all hours. You never know when you’ll lift the receiver to the hiss of the overseas connection. Incredibly, Bud’s relatives seem to be convinced by his business plan this time. Several have even promised to buy shares in the place. Who could fail to be moved by Bud’s exultant rhapsodizing? His voice bounces; he seems to give off a hum. After much negotiation with lawyers, real estate agents, and the gloomy owner, whose disconcerting gaze lingers on Bud long after conversation has ceased, they work out the last details and agree on a signing date. To celebrate on the night before he is due to go in and sign the lease, Bud prepares a grand dinner starring a golden chicken msukhan. This is the traditional Palestinian dish, which owes its ravishing succulence to a few simple ingredients—chicken, onions, and so much olive oil that the chicken is nearly poached in it, turning its flesh soft and amber as a silk purse. “Do you see this chicken, girls?” he asks as we break off tender bites with our forks. “Do you know what it’s saying to us?” No, what, Dad? “It’s saying, ‘I am more delicious than anything. People will come from everywhere to taste me. I am the queen of all!’ ” He sighs and gazes fondly at the queen. //

Let nothing but nothing stop you,” my grandmother said. After retirement, she trekked around the world on her own, took a prop plane to the high end of Alaska; crisscrossed Eastern Europe; sailed the Panama Canal. //

Rental car counters were one of the few places where his name still had meaning. Inside of them he felt special. He never had to wait in line. “As you know, Mr. Schafer, your membership tier allows you for a free upgrade.” “I’ll pass.” “Are you sure? With your rewards points, we could put you in a Mustang at no additional charge.” “I’ll take whatever does best on gas.” “Of course, sir. My pleasure.” He had no palate for cars. A tool to be used, a conveyance; their design was of no interest to him. He never understood the appeal.

Yellow highlight | Page: 23

For a period after they arrived in this country, Laura García tried to invent something. Her ideas always came after the sightseeing visits she took with her daughters to department stores to see the wonders of this new country.

Yellow highlight | Page: 134

she would talk it over with her husband. On the drive home, try as they might, her daughters could not engage their mother in conversation, for inspired by what she had just seen, Laura had begun inventing. She never put anything actual on paper until she had settled her house down at night.

Yellow highlight | Page: 276

I wanted them back. I wanted them back. Mamita intervened, and the sticks were put back into the hollow of the drum, and another promise extracted from me that I would not play the drum inside the house but only out in the yard. My grandmother pulled me towards her. She had once been, so Mami said, the most beautiful woman in the country. We called her Mamita, “little

WHEN I WAS TEN, we emigrated to New York. How astonishing, a country where everyone spoke English! These people must be smarter, I thought. Maids, waiters, taxi drivers, doormen, bums on the street, garbagemen, all spoke this difficult language. It took some time before I understood that Americans were not necessarily a smarter, superior race. It was as natural for them to learn their mother tongue as it was for a little Dominican baby to learn Spanish. It came with mother’s milk, my mother explained, and for a while I thought a mother tongue was a mother tongue because you got it from your mother’s breast, along with nutrients and vitamins. //

Things were making me extremely agitated, and that can be very bad for a performer. I decided to go outside and go through my preshow ritual. Since I started stand-up, I have used the following pre-show ritual as a way of controlling my nerves and centering myself. First I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Then I create a picture in my mind. It is always the same picture. I am lying in a glade near a brook while a gentle breeze licks my face and makes me smile. Birds fill the sky with song as I lounge beside the brook with my golden Lab and watch the fish as they jump out of the water and back in again. I walk leisurely to the water and take a long, deep drink of it, and it is always clean and cold and slakes my thirst. Then I lie down again on the grass and let my golden Lab lick my face, and then I wrestle with him and laugh. Then I open my eyes. This part of the ritual takes about fifteen minutes. It never fails to clear my mind, as an eraser clears a busy chalkboard.

It’s going to be a better day,” I mutter as I pour my coffee into my to-go cup, leaving just enough room for creamer. Hattie believes if you add the creamer first, you don’t have to stir the coffee because it stirs itself. She’s a liar. I know this because I tried it once and nearly grew hair on my chest from the gulp of black coffee I drank. Never again. I pour creamer into the cup and then give it a good stirYellow highlight | Location: 253

Like most immigrants, my father had left his native country with high expectations of what life in El Otro Lado would be like. Once reality set in, and he realized that dollars weren’t as easy to make as the stories people told made it seem, he had been faced with two choices:Yellow highlight | Location: 2,906

In those days newspapers did straightforward reporting, i.e. a football match was reported on

///

had high hopes. I was ready for the theater director to tell me that I was the most talented child actor she’d ever seen and that I’d be replacing the Cuban girl as the lead in every single production or working alongside her. After the auditions, she walked up to me and told me the good news: that I could be in the theater program! “…as a lighting tech,” she added. Oh. I was disappointed, but I figured just being in the program I could find a way to showcase my skills. I had plenty of time for my big moment to happen, so I went home and told my mom the good news. “Mommy, I got into the theater program.” “Good job! Are you going to be in the next play?” “No, ma’am. I’m doing the lights.” “What do you mean you’re doing the lights? That is not acting.” “I’m gonna learn about the lights and the sound.”

Yellow highlight | Location: 486

“You are not doing no lights! You are a performer. You go back and tell that woman no. This is some racist bullshit.” “But, Mommy…” “My daughter is not doing no lights.” At school the next day I told the theater teacher I would NOT be doing the lights. “Why not?” she asked. “My mom said so.” “Why?” “She said, ‘My daughter’s not doing no lights.’” So instead of hitting light switches, I switched lanes and that’s when I joined the chorus. My mom taught me an important lesson that day: Don’t let racist magnet school theater directors crush your dreams. Go sing instead. I also learned how to play some instruments, so if you need someone to play “Hot Cross Buns” or “When the Saints Go Marching In” on the recorder, I’m your girl. I am sure casting directors all over the country have been searching for a

Yellow highlight | Location: 495

My mom supported me when I was in Starmites, she cheered me when I lost my voice and got it back again, and she never, ever suggested I stop messing around with theater and focus on something more practical. There were a few times she didn’t back my dreams, though. Back in freshman year of high school I’d asked her if I could be in the color guard, spinning flags and doing dance routines out on the field. I figured it would be fun. I figured she’d support me. “Mommy, I want to do color guard.” “The what? No.” “Why not?” “You’re an actor, you don’t have time to be twirling flags.” So that was the end of the discussion. Jump to 2013. Me and my mom are in the front of her house. My brother is raking the yard and my mom and I are sitting in her car, and for some reason, I got curious about her banning me from the color guard back in high school. “Mommy, how come you didn’t let me do color guard? Was it because of the football players?” She looked over at me and narrowed her eyes. “Football players? Girl. I was supposed to spend my gas money driving you around so you could twirl a flag? There’s no future in that! You can’t get a job twirling a flag!” “What?” “What kind of job were you gonna get from twirling a damn flag? Huh? Were you gonna go from office building to office building raising their flag every morning? That’s not a salary position.”

Yellow highlight | Location: 595

She went on a fifteen-minute rant about the color guard, I swear to God. It may have even been twenty minutes. She was still livid. “What I look like wasting my gas for you to twirl a damn flag?” She did hate wasting gas. Color guard wasn’t my life dream, and I wasn’t devastated that she wouldn’t let me do it, but still. Some parents might say the same things about acting: there’s no future in it and it’s a waste of gas money. Not my mom. She saw a future in acting for me! Or I thought so. A few years after college, when I was working odd jobs and doing some local theater, my mom decided to lay this one on me, out of nowhere: “Dulcé, maybe you should have double-majored in business….”

Yellow highlight | Location: 611

Eventually I went through that rite of passage that every young actor goes through: getting scammed by an “agent.” I had to pay one hundred dollars to sign with this guy who told me he could get me big roles and make all my dreams come true, or whatever bullshit he fed me that I believed. I was new at this, and I couldn’t yet see that the man was a con artist. As soon as I swiped my credit card, though, I was like…wait a minute! What is happening here?! It was too late by then. He had my money, and I had a thief for an agent. It was some bullshit. I got conned! Once my mind cleared, I called and had the charges reversed.

At the body shop there was a Vietnamese mechanic named Tu who escaped during the war. He had a thick accent, but I never had a problem understanding him, maybe because I always grew up around immigrants and because he was speaking English. Tu would always say there was more damage to a car because when he started taking the car apart, there would usually be additional damage that couldn’t be seen by the insurance agent when they wrote the estimate. Catherine would tell him to work off the original

Yellow highlight | Location: 880

estimate from the insurance company, but Tu would have to explain why he needed the supplemental estimate, and I would end up translating his English to a forty-year-old white woman, and then I’d have to translate her English back to him. “Bumper no good. Need to be replace,” Tu would say. “What did he say?” Catherine would ask. “Seriously, Catherine? He said the car needs a new bumper.” It would go back and forth like that until their discussion ended. I was back at the shop later that day to check in parts, and Tu looked upset. “Why she act like my English not good? You understand me. Why she not listen?” he said. “Your English is good. She doesn’t want to listen to you, Tu. That’s the problem.”

Yellow highlight | Location: 887

Now before we go hating Catherine, remember when I said I had to translate her English to him? Well, the next day Tu comes back into the office. “Estimate no good. Too much damage. Tell him come back. Need more time.” Catherine looks at me, confused. “He said the insurance agent needs to come back and do a supplemental estimate. There is too much additional damage on the car. And he needs more time to fix it.” Tu nods his head. “Well, Tu, the insurance companies really want us to work off the initial estimate. To try to keep the cost of the repair down.” Tu furrows his brow and looks at me. “…

Some highlights have been hidden or truncated due to export limits.

“The headlight assembly, grille, and front quarter panel are all damaged and need to be replaced. He needs more time,” I sigh. “Hmm. Let me see the estimate.” Tu hands her the paperwork and she looks through it. “Okay, we will reach out to the insurance company about writing the supplement and let you know when he is on the way. Tell him.” She hands the estimate back. Again they both look at me. “We call insurance company. Tell them you need more time. I tell you when he coming back.” In unison they say, “Okay. Thank you,” and Tu goes back into the shop. Catherine turns to me and says, “Thank you so much. I can never understand what he’s saying.” “What do you mean?!” I exclaim. “He is speaking English!” “Well, as long as you can understand him.” Every time this happened I would sit there, wondering what the fuck just happened. I got up and went back into the shop because I thought my brain was going to explode, and I was truly worried I was being racist, when Tu walked up to me and said, “Thank you. I never understand what she say. Her English too complicated. I always understand what you say. You always help me.” “I’m glad to help and, yes, her English is too complicated.” “She say all those words for no reason, dah, dah,…

Some highlights have been hidden or truncated due to export limits.

People talk crazy at all kinds of jobs—corporate jobs, retail jobs, auto body jobs, white collar jobs. And yes, even glamorous comedy TV jobs. This list will run down some of my all-time favorites. • “I didn’t sit in traffic for this shit.” One of my favorites. I just love hearing people say this. You have to be ornery as hell. • “Let’s put a pin in it!” I mean what does this even mean? • “Let’s table this for another time.” What table? This is an office, not an Applebee’s. • “Why don’t Yellow highlight | Location: 1,026

even once. Bitch, what? And yes, yes I am. • “We need to increase productivity.” Then y’all need to pay more. I am giving ten-dollars-an-hour worth of effort and giving a fuck. • “I want to download the situation with you.” I am not a laptop! Do not download anything on me, with me, or anywhere near me. • “

It was 2012, and I had one of my first headlining shows. It was at a bar in Augusta, Georgia, and I was doing thirty minutes, which, to be only three years in, meant it was not going to be the strongest thirty-minute set in the history of comedy, since I had very little experience. I got a ride to the show from some baby comics who were also performing, and they picked me up in a late 1990s Jeep Wrangler that had seen much better days. Why I let these two stoned white boys drive me two hours across the state is beyond me, but I had a show to get to.. Anyway, as I drove and they tumbled around in the back, I looked at the gas gauge and saw that we were almost on empty. “Hey.” They didn’t hear me because they were too busy singing Justin Bieber songs. I turned the radio down, but they kept on singing. “HEY!” “Huh?” “We’re almost out of gas.” “Oh, no, the gas gauge is messed up. You’re fine.” Okay, cool. I asked because I saw a gas station at the next exit and was going to stop and get gas.

Yellow highlight | Location: 1,739

I should have listened to my instincts, my gut, my first mind—whatever you want to call it—because as soon as I drove past the off-ramp and under the overpass, the car started sputtering and ran out of gas. I pulled over on the side of the freeway. One of the idiots in the back asked, “Whoa, what happened?” “We ran out of gas,” I said, trying to keep my composure. “Oh, that’s weird. I drive around all the time on E and usually it’s fine.” “Well, not today. Do you have a gas can in the back?” “Huh?” I took that as a no. I had to pee, but I was not going to do it in front of these fools, so I walked up the on-ramp, to the gas station I should have stopped at, peed, bought a gas can, and bought gas, in that order. I walked back with that can, cursing my passengers, and berating myself in my head. Why did they think it was okay to pick me up high and drunk and then drive two hours through country-ass Georgia? Why didn’t I trust my instincts and go to the gas station? I got back to the car and I popped open the tank to fill it up so we wouldn’t miss the show. Did I mention that they were both under twenty-one? There was a door-like flap on the gas tank that wouldn’t open with the nozzle on the gas can. So I found a pen in the car and used it to push the flap back, but I couldn’t fit the pen and the nozzle through the flap at the same time. I needed a funnel. As if I needed any more trouble, a Georgia Highway Patrol car rolls up and parks behind us. ///

Neighbors, we have found, take on an importance in the country that they don’t begin to have in cities. You can live for years in an apartment in London or New York and barely speak to the people who live six inches away from you on the other side of a wall. In the country, separated from the next house though you may be by hundreds of yards, your neighbors are part of your life, and you are part of theirs. If you happen to be foreign and therefore slightly exotic, you are inspected with more than usual interest. And if, in addition, you inherit a long-standing and delicate agricultural arrangement, you are quickly made aware that your attitudes and decisions have a direct effect on another family’s well-being. We had been introduced to our new neighbors by the couple from whom we bought the house, over a five-hour dinner marked by a tremendous goodwill on all sides and an almost total lack of comprehension on our part. The language spoken was French, but it was not the French we had studied in textbooks and heard on cassettes; it was a rich, soupy patois, emanating from somewhere at the back of the throat and passing through a scrambling process in the nasal passages before coming out as speech.

0 notes

vatt-world · 6 months

Text

hello , my name is azghi

i like basebell

im practising my introduction

i leave my home in india

i fly fly fly and land in america

im very excited

my entire village has turned up

i have passport

u know im first person to fly

i have a letter

dear azghni , its wonderful place

im going to help u

u can live with us and see america

he owned a restaurant

400 east 6 th st

the world , galaxy

hey ma , dont cry

when i go america , i will write every day

i will from top from empire state , bottom from grand canyon, hollywood

i will write from cleveland

i will be rich and i will invite u

what is this

a stone

u are giving a stone

story of riverstone

i dont r

im keeping it

i threw it away

i keep it

it is in my pocket

i have to go

u made it

this is new york is a crazy place

this is my job

im manager here

im the owner

im the waiter

its such a good job

u know mr hakim were waiting at airport

they two children

samir is 10 year

he is playing with gameboy

how am i doing

sakina is older

dont u worry , soon u will catch on

i have no idea

if u smile , nod u head , people love u

mr hakim is my best friend .. let me tell u something profound

any one can be rich

i just smile

u are absoultely

one day u are millionaire

america can u give u nothing

my dream is classical indian dancer

show me i used to dance

i used to dance

she closed her eyes

her arms and hips

i think u should

then she told me she is going to teach me dance

i try

i put my wrists and turn my hand

im very good this

i can be dancer myself

i can do much than cook food

u bught present for me

hello bob , business is good , dinner for 5

very proud of him

i understand

time is money

what is this dress

u think are too smart

u can marry black guy,white guy

why did i can to restaurant

so that i can proud of u

why did i came here , it is for u

they teach u about

i know

its all fun and games

and then what

everything will be gone

dont speak to me in english

look what u have become

dancing is iportant but im not

help ur mother in kitchen

sakina is getting married

its a party , there are lot of people

there is a dj playing songs

how could u leave ur stuff, u need to clean up

i give the gameboy.. give me postcard

u know what what

my sister sent picture of ninja turtles

we were supposed to go

but my grandmother died

u know what happened happened

u know what

i had a fight

im doing that

no way

u know what happeend

then i called upstairs

to see pics

do u remmeber

u can hold my gameboy for 5 mins

i kicked him

its my five minutes

im not even sorry

he stole my gameboy

im not coming here

why do u hit me

everyone is stupid

we were supposed not to

im sorry

come here ALI:Shut Up!—Shut Up!—I have to walk, I have to clear my head,

and I have to come back. I have to walk, I have to clear my head,

I have to come back, I have to walk, I have to clear my head, I

have to come back. I have to WALK! I have to clear my head, I

have to come— (Suddenly he looks up as if someone has opened

a door and he is staring into their face. He is visibly nervous, his

mouth is dry and his hands are sweaty.) I only have fifty dollars, I

don’t know if that’s enough or not. Oh, that’s fine, whatever you

do for fifty dollars is fine. I don’t know if I want the complete

package anyway. It’s probably safer that way, in regards to diseases and such. (Realizing his faux pas.) I’m sorry, I’m not saying

that you have any diseases. Oh no I ruined the mood. I’m sorry,

its just that I’m a Pre-Med student, so I’m always thinking about

diseases. I don’t do this kind of thing normally—NEVER!! never

before actually, I don’t know if that matters to you, but it matters

to me, and so I just thought I would share that with you. (Pulling

money out of his pocket and handing it to her.) Look, I’ll just give

you the money and you can put it over there on the dresser, or in

your— (Noticing that she put it in her underwear.) there!—This is

very unlikely for me to be in a place like this,—I’ve actually been

trying to deepen my religious faith lately. I’m a Muslim, you know.

Do you know what that is?…Yes, it’s a type of cloth. What is your

name?—Angel?—Really? (He laughs.) No, no, I’m sorry. I was just

thinking that that’s an ironic name for someone who does what

you do for a living.—What?—No, no, I’m sorry, I’m not a jerk. I’m

sorry that was rude, look I think you’re very attractive. In fact,

that’s even the reason I followed you in here from the street…was

because of the way you look…or at least who you look like. Well,

you see, you look amazingly like this girl Karen who sits next to

me in my Human Anatomy class, and who I cannot stop thinking

about, and earlier this evening I was trying to study for my exam

tomorrow, but I can’t seem to concentrate because I can’t stop

thinking about Karen, and then when I think about Karen all the

time, I think about my parents beating their chests when they

realize I’ve failed all my exams. So I decided to take a walk and

pray for some concentration, and that’s when I saw you, and

you—well, you look exactly like her, and you looked at me, and

you smiled, and so when you started walking I followed you, and

while I was walking up the stairs just now to this little room, I

started thinking to myself that you must be a sign…a sign from

God!! that since I’ll never be with Karen, I could be with you, and

then I could go home and be able to study, and pass my exam

and make my parents proud of me!!! (He suddenly breaks down

into tears.) I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, I think I’ve made a terrible

mistake. You see I just realized that God would never, never lead

me to a place like this. I must be losing my mind. I have to study,

I have to go! I need some sleep! I have to study, I’m really sorry. I

have obviously wasted your time, I’m really sorry but I have to go.

(He leaves, there is a long pause and then he returns.) I think I

should probably just get a refund. I don’t know what your policy

is as far as refunds go. I’m sure that it doesn’t come up very

often.—What?—Uh, thank you, that’s very kind of you—Well I

think you’re very attractive yourself—No, I can’t do that actually,

No I can’t, No I really can’t—Well, because I’m engaged…or at

least “betrothed” which is actually more like…engaged!—She’s

a very nice girl, Sakina!! would you like to see a picture? I have

one,—No of course not, What I’m trying to say is that she really

is the perfect girl for me, comes from a very similar family, same

religion, same tradition, same values, these things are important,

you know. Besides, Karen is just a distraction. I mean, she’s

American. In the long run she would never accept Indian culture,

she would never understand the importance of an Islamic way of

life, she would probably want to have pre-marital sex which is

something that as a Muslim I could never do. I know that that

probably sounds ridiculous under the circumstances, but it’s

true!!! It’s not just a religion you know, it’s a way of life and I have

dedicated my entire spiritual life identity to the complete submission to the will of God. That’s what Islam means. So you see, I

can’t just be running around having sex (He thrust his pelvis forward unconsciously.) like a rabbit (He does it again, with more

vigour.) with every woman I am attracted to (He does it again

repeatedly with real vigour.) It would be SIN!! and that is why I

have to leave. What? What is my name? (He pauses.) AL!—

Really!—OK, OK. It’s not Al the way you are thinking of it, like

short for Alan or Alvin or something. It’s actually the short form

of a very religious name, a name I can’t even say right now, otherwise it would be a sin—I think. I probably don’t even deserve

this name.

(We begin to hear the song “No Ordinary Love.” This plays

throughout the rest of the piece.)

ALI:What are you doing?—no I really don’t think you should

…REMOVE THAT!!! (He hides behind his hands so as not to look

at her but then he slowly looks.) You want me to call you

Karen?…OK!? Karen, Karen, Karen, Karen…

[(She unbuttons his pants and begins to perform oral sex, the

rest of the lines are delivered while he is receiving a blow

job.)]

ALI:Oh, my God, this is not me, this is not my life. Oh, shit!

(Looking down.) I’m sorry, I’m trying not to swear. It’s hard, you

know, to do the right thing, you know.—I’m always asking for

forgiveness, because I believe that God understands and he is forgiving, and he knows how hard it is, to do the right thing all the

time, even when you want to, more than anything else, and if

you fail and you disappoint people, you can just try again, right?

100

And you can have the intention to try again even while you’re

failing…failing! I don’t suppose there is really any chance of me

passing this exam tomorrow. I mean, if I’m going to be punished

for this, and I’m sure I will be, that will probably be the punishment, because when you’re trying to do the right thing and make

people proud of you, Satan wants you to fail. And then you end

up being a huge disappointment. Well, if I’m not going to be a

doctor, I wonder what I will be?—Maybe I will be a bum!—And

Sakina will say, “I can’t marry him, he’s a BUM!!!” (He is getting

quite worked up at this point as he gets closer to orgasm.) And I

will say, “GOOD!!!! BECAUSE THIS BUM WOULDN’T MARRY

YOU WHEN HELL FREEZES OVER!” AND HER PARENTS WILL SAY,

“HOW DARE YOU TALK TO OUR DAUGHTER LIKE THAT!!! AND

I WILL SAY I JUST DID! ! AND MY PARENTS WILL SAY, “HOW

DARE YOU TALK TO HER PARENTS LIKE THAT, YOU ARE A GREAT

DISAPPOINTMENT,” AND I WILL SAY, “MOM, DAD EAT (He

orgasms.) SHIIIT!!!!” (He falls to his knees in shock, and slowly as

if almost in slow motion he doubles over on the floor, unconsciously going into the Islamic position of prayer. After a few seconds, he regains his composure and attempts to stand and