#i feel kind of guilty taking your theory and being the poster of it you should make posts!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

backonthebullshit · 3 years ago

Note

Ok so like, imagine the security breach animatronics (+Gregory) meeting a animatronic reader that was used way back when the first fnaf opend. So they have a human soul inside them, they can kill, their movements are stiff. But instead of getting thrown out they instead get rebuild (their movements are the same, just better looking) and used as a 'Back in the day' kinda thing?

ooooo, this

This is a really interesting prompt bc outside of the posters and things and The You Know What we haven’t seen the og animatronics in quite some time (rip to the legends)

Anyways here’s some HCs, as a treat🥰 (sorry these took so long! I got invested and wrote all day lol)

Friendly reminder to y’all that requests are open! (Yes I’m still working on the Monty Gator thing but it’s gonna be so good just wait)

Glamrocks + Gregory x og animatronic!reader Headcanons

TW: mentions of the original FNAF child murders, mentions of a little verbal abuse?, swearing, a little trauma

Author’s note: I made this kinda angsty at the start but it gets fluffy I promise / gender neutral!reader

I can imagine,

- Regardless of what kind of animal you are, you’re in rough shape from years of not being used (literally no idea how you’re still alive homie)

- Pretty safe to say as soon as FazBear Entertainment found you again, they were immediately thought of ways they could profit off of you

- That’s how you ended up at the Pizzaplex, you have a small section of the museum where you’re stationary as part of a photo attraction

- The section is small but so realistic to the original pizzeria where you were murdered that it’s like living your death all over again, and it’s worse than being stuck in this robot

- When they had you repaired, your animatronic body was in shambles of rust and decay. Now you can move again, albeit slower than the Glamrocks due to your servos and joints being so old

- Parts and Service were unable to install the animatronic AI in you however, so you’re left with your original voicebox that hasn’t been used in years

- While your body repeats the same phrases over and over during the day, shifting poses occasionally, you barely have the strength to use your real voice after hours when the PizzaPlex closes

- Your afterlife couldn’t be worse, until you meet the others..

Freddy would be the most curious to check out the newest installation to the museum, and that’s where he unexpectedly finds you one night.

- Papa Bear(TM) here would absolutely comfort you if you were frightened by this new place, and especially once he understood what you were and how awful your surroundings made your days

- He doesn’t quite know how to help you beyond that, but he will happily distract you as much as possible by hyping you up and showing you around the Pizzaplex

- Gives the best hugs!!! Even though you’re both animatronics lol

- Appeals so much to your inner child by playing Fazer Blast with you and even Hide and Seek if you suggest it

- First one to scold children/teens/adults who insult you ( “Y/N is not weird or creepy, Y/N is different, and that is what makes them special. If you cannot appreciate their unique qualities then I must request that you leave. Now.” )

- Superstar is basically your name to this bear now

- (THEORY TIME) if Michael Afton is really possessing him..he’ll randomly feel super guilty sometimes whenever he looks over and sees you in your section, in a body you never belonged in..

Monty is initially annoyed by the construction of a new section, even if it’s small, until he actually meets you.

- Is a little weirded out by your design but totally gets into it after awhile because you’re basically the same you just look different and to him that’s super metal dude!! (Literally lmao)

- Takes great pleasure in teasing you like an annoying sibling but is immediately on the scene to deal with unruly children who try to climb on you/make a mess in your section

- Forgets you’re a child stuck in your body sometimes but has grown better about watching his mouth ( “Man I hate when these stupid fu- *remembers* fudgin’, fudgin’ brats leave their food around your spot like this” )

- He doesn’t know how to handle your trauma but he makes every effort to support you by helping you be a kid

- Wanna come hang out in Monty Golf?? He’s not the fastest either, and he’s happy to slow down even more to make you less self-conscious about your stiff joints (will still tease you about tho)

- Don’t know how to play mini golf?? Even better, now you get to learn from the best!! He really fills a hole you had almost forgotten existed in your..”life”

- Would never admit it, but he cares about you, kid

Chica is so excited to meet you!!! She’s heard the construction crew talking about a new animatronic and she can’t stop chirping about how ready she is to make a new friend!!!

- Hears your story and is immediately overcome with emotions. She’s a robot and she can’t really cry but this is the closest she feels like she’s ever come

- Like the others she is determined to find ways to help you adjust but also thrive in the Pizzaplex, so what better ways than her two specialties?

- Poor thing doesn’t initially realize you can’t eat but she’ll invite you to cook things with her all the time!! Pizza cupcakes tacos cookies, you guys make it all

- She won’t admit it but cooking with you helps her avoid the garbage so it’s like y’all are equally comforting each other (brb crying)

- On top of cooking together, she’s going to be all about doing Mazercize together! When you express how stiff your body is, Chica isn’t afraid to cheer you on in loosening up your bolts through some good old fashioned movement ( “Y/N!! You’re improving so much, chickadee! I’m so proud of you for working so hard! Let’s make cupcakes to celebrate!” )

- Also encourages you the most to use your voice and speak your mind after hours, not your lines (even if your voicebox malfunctions and gets squeaky sometimes) because it means a lot to her to watch you open up more

- She’s accidentally such a Mother Hen sorry not sorry but you just bring it out in her, you sweet thing

Roxanne did not care at all about meeting you because she rarely pays attention to new things going on in the Pizzaplex, but once she met you she was surprised by how much she enjoyed your company.

- Definitely took the longest to warm up to you, and teases you nearly as much as Monty does (Chica reminds you not to take it personally)

- Her reaction to your story isn’t as outwardly visceral as Chica or Freddy, but inside she feels her animatronic heart soften for you and how much you’ve gone through

- From there Roxy does little things, like invite you to come jam with her in her room after hours to whatever kind of music you two can get access to/make with her keytar

- She will bring you to Roxy Raceway with the sole intentions of showing off, and when you get so excited to ride in a kart she can’t help but feel her tail wag in anticipation

- Your spirit is only that of a child, and as a child you validate her so much in ways that the kids during the day normally don’t ( “I bet I’M your favorite, Y/N” “Yup!” -and any small amount of confirmation will send her back to her room crying that she’s actually someone’s favorite )

- Roxanne begins to find a great amount of comfort in your presence, and she is fiercely protective of you as a result-this usually means that she and Monty tease the hell out of you, but become the ultimate bodyguards if anyone else has shit to say

- If you have fur/fuzz/a soft outer coating then Roxanne is not afraid to help you brush and maintain it (like a Mother Wolf). Just one of the little unspoken ways that she shows she cares

Gregory did not anticipate you actually being alive when he first saw you, but when he found out you were and weren’t hunting him down, he actually kind of warmed up to you.

- When you encounter him it’s like a total flashback to when you were murdered in the pizzeria and your head actually starts spinning in circles before Freddy calms you down

- Gregory is saddened to hear that you’re trapped here, in a similar way to him, and only a child a little younger than he is. But when you help him hide in your section from Vanessa, he realizes you can help him with a determination the others don’t understand

- This little gremlin has definitely tried to crawl in your stomach hatch but you smack him away every time so the spring locks don’t do to him what they did to you

- Sometimes through the night, Freddy catches the two of you bickering like..well, children, and he almost feels bad that this is the only interaction you’ve had with someone your own age in so long

- At one point you noticed Gregory’s irritability combined with his tiredness as the night wore on, and so you took his hand and walked to the kitchen out of nowhere. When he asks what you’re doing you tell him how Chica helps you think more clearly by cooking, or in his case, eating

- Having already laid several distractions for said chicken, Gregory watched as you made him a small pizza to help him calm down, and as he ate, he realized you were right, and he actually gives you a hug afterwards

- For the rest of the night, you do what you can to help him escape your friends and the night guard. There are several moments between he, you and Freddy which you can’t help but laugh at, and if there wasn’t a killer rabbit lady on the loose you might say this was kind of..nice

- You’re the first to wish Gregory had a gun over the course of the night because YOU have been that kid and everything would be SO much easier (Gregory agrees, but Freddy adamantly disagrees)

ENDING 1 (could work for the endings where you free Vanny, or when Freddy and Gregory steal the van, or even the Burntrap ending): When the time comes to escape the Pizzaplex, Gregory begs you to come along with him and Freddy, and having developed such a connection with the paid, you agree and all of you ride off into the sunset together, 2/3 of you connected to car batteries to stay alive.

ENDING 2: When Gregory discovers the fire escape at the prize counter and Freddy pulls his lighter, the pair of them hesitate but ask if you want to come along. Realizing this is the chance you’ve been waiting for to move on, you decide to stay as the Pizzaplex burns, setting your soul free from the animatronic you have been trapped in for so long. While you are sad because you will miss your friends, you are finally able to achieve peace.

#fnaf #fnaf security breach #fnaf security breach x reader #fnaf x reader #fnaf sb #fnaf sb x reader #glamrock animatronics #glamrock freddy #glamrock chica #montgomery gator #roxanne wolf #fnaf headcanons #fnaf hcs

2K notes · View notes

earnestly-endlessly · 3 years ago

Note

Hi, how are you? Your blog is amazing and your recommendations have already allowed me to read wonderful stories, so thank you so much! I wonder if you could suggest me any cherik fics of them as detectives? I remember reading one a long time ago, but unfortunately I don't know the name and even less the synopsis. Thank you in advance for your help.

Thank you so much @remember5novemberv for your kind words. I'm so sorry this took me so long but I hope you enjoy this list. There are some excellent detective AUs in this fandom so you're in for a treat.

Cherik Detective AUs

Their Mouths Always Lie – keire_ke

Summary: Charles adheres to most police protocols like they are a personal code of conduct. Erik gets things done and over with, for better or worse. Raven knows what she's doing, most of the time. The serial killer kills, regardless. Police AU.

Guilty by Association – Reagan

Summary: While investigating the homicide of a John Doe who he suspects might've been murdered while working the streets as a prostitute, Detective Erik Lehnsherr finds an unexpected ally in a hooker named Charles who seems as determined as he to solve the case. As they become more deeply involved both with the case and each other, there's just one thing that Charles neglects to mention -- that he's really an investigative journalist, one quickly convinced that what they're dealing with is more than simple murder. cop!Erik, fake-hooker-slash-reporter!Charles, Modern AU.

Incy Wincy Spider – Tawabids

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr is a renowned homicide detective, with his husband Charles at home and his partner on the job, Moira MacTaggert. When a twisted serial killer starts targeting mutants, Erik and Moira are the perfect team for the job, especially since Erik himself is the mutant poster-boy of an NYPD trying to improve their image.

But what they don't yet know is that the serial killer is an old soul out of Erik's past, and his next move is to pull Charles into his web.

The Theory of Partnership Dynamics – Pangea

Summary: “Detective Lehnsherr, how wonderful to see you out on the job!” The fed in the front greets him as they draw nearer. He’s shorter than the other two by a full head, and he’s beaming at Lehnsherr as if completely undeterred by Lehnsherr’s paint-peeling scowl.

“What do the feds want?” Lehnsherr asks bluntly.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” the fed answers cheerfully. Then his gaze lands on Alex, and, impossibly, his grin gets even brighter. “Did you get a new partner?"

“No,” Lehnsherr says through his teeth while at the same time Alex says, “Yes.”

Charles’ Killer – luchia

Summary: When detective Charles Xavier finds himself hunting down a vendetta-driven serial killer, it doesn't take long for him to realize he's in over his head. It only takes a little longer for him to realize his killer is, too.

Demoted – JayPendragon

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr is a detective-specialist with the NYPD Mutant Tactical Unit, ready to help out where his skills are needed. Or he would be, if he and his partner hadn’t been demoted. For the next four months, he is patrolling the Lenox Hill precinct with Azazel – if he doesn’t die of boredom first.

One night they are called in to investigate a potential case of domestic violence, yet the tenant assures them he is both alone and unharmed. However, there is something about this Charles Xavier that compels Erik to follow up.

Watching the Detectives – Clocks

Summary: Detectives Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr are good friends and colleagues. However, when they go undercover at a Christmas party to nab a prime suspect, Erik keeps reminding himself to stay professional and ignore feelings of unexpected jealousy.

Oh, Sinnerman (Where you gonna run to?) – TintagelCastle (orphan–account)

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr is one of the best homicide detectives in New York. From small time stabbings to high end mob hits, Erik (and his equally scary partner Logan) makes sure all the bad guys get caught, searching for the final clue to nail his mother's killer. As a string of murders draws the net ever tighter on Erik's life's work, he needs to catch the nightmare of his past whilst continuing to be the darling of the Force...

And so what if he's completely in love with the British guy on Forensics? Who's he ever going to tell?

Wrap up my bones – waifornight

Summary: Damaged detective Erik Lehnsherr is grimly searching for a serial killer whose victims all have extraordinary gifts. But without any clues or leads he and his partner Logan are in the dark. Until Charles Xavier, abducted by the killer, escapes. Together Erik and Charles must confront something far darker than either of them had ever imagined.

Alternate Universe loosely based off the crime movie Kiss the Girls.

I’ll see your heart (and I’ll race you mine) – sirona

Summary: For Kriminalhauptkommissar Erik Lehnsherr, this case will change everything.

Paralyzer – Yahtzee

Summary: In 1965, Erik Lehnsherr has infiltrated the NYPD for his own purposes -- but his powers make him a brilliant detective. Yet that's not why FBI agent Charles Xavier has sought him out. It's because the mysterious killer they're both trying to find is murdering people like them: other mutants.

Their search for a madman binds them together. Their inner demons may tear them apart. But the greatest danger comes when the killer they're looking for looks back.

Wrap up my bones – waifornight

Alternate Universe loosely based off the crime movie Kiss the Girls.

The Long Bright Dark – lachatblanche

Summary: Ten years ago Detectives Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr closed the case on a grotesque series of murders that continue to haunt them even in the present day. When they are pulled in for questioning a decade later, they finally have confirmation of something that they have both suspected for a very long time - that there is unfinished business for them to take care of and that the case they thought they had closed so very long ago is in reality still all too open.

A True Detective AU.

Finding North – ClarkeStetler, Goosenik

Summary: Charles and Erik are (loosely) friends with benefits. They don't share personal details, last names, or anything concrete about their lives. This is ruined rather spectacularly when Charles gets recruited by the Mutant Apprehension Division of the FBI. Surprised is a bit of an understatement for their reaction to finding themselves partnered up and sent out on cases with the team.

Closer (to God) – dsrobertson

Summary: Se7en/The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo AU-ish.

Political journalist and editor, Erik Lehnsherr, has just lost £150,000 in a libel case against businessman, Kurt Marko. Down on his luck and in need of money, Erik is approached by the Metropolitan Police’s Detective Inspector Charles Xavier. Well-known for his investigative journalism, Erik is asked to help in the search for a serial killer in return for £200,000 if the killer is caught.

Wrapped up in murder, religion, and sex, Erik gets more than he bargained for.

Homo Sacer – unveiled

Summary: In a not too distant future, Detective Erik Lehnsherr meets Charles Xavier: street magician, former academician, and telepath.

One Good Day – troll_under_the_bridge

Summary: One case which is going to turn Charles' world upside down, while he struggles to pacify his boss, investigate murders and come to terms with the mess his life has become.

Playing With Fire – professor

Summary: Charles is a detective determined to catch a serial killer.

If the serial killer doesn't catch him first.

Hold on or let go – aesc, pearl_o

Summary: Teenage telepath Charles Xavier takes a job as a consultant, working with prickly police detective Erik Lehnsherr. Charles is used to being on his own and taking care of himself; he has no reason to think that his relationship with this stern, icy man is going to change any of that. (Also known as: Tough Little Baby Telepath.)

MCIS: First Case – Pookaseraph

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr considers himself a great MCIS agent, and he puts up with a lot from his boss - Moira MacTaggart - in the name of solving crimes against mutants, but he's not so sure about this new empath, Charles Xavier. Their first case together will test Erik's patience, but doubtless be the beginning of a brilliant friendship.

MCIS: Fathers, Sons, and Brothers – Pookaseraph

Summary: Alex Summers has a single case that he has obsessed about ever since coming to MCIS two years ago: Su-M-94-0708-0034, the murder of Christopher and Katherine Summers, and the presumed kidnapping and possible murder of Scott Summers. Very little evidence was found at the time, but hopefully a new team - and new leads - can shed light on the case that left Alex an orphan.

When the Crazies come to town – Chinchillaatthedisc0

Summary: Erik is a surly detective with zero people skills who has just been assigned the murder case of Kurt Marko. Prime suspect? Charles xavier. Who's no where to be found.

My old man is a bad man – faerie_ground

Summary: Sebastian Shaw dies at two am in the morning with a dagger embedded in his forehead. Detective Erik Lehnsherr is on the case, and the number one suspect is the recently widowed Dr Charles Xavier, Sebastian Shaw's husband.

Deep Cover – Subtilior

Summary: Omegas in heat? The perfect whores. Sebastian Shaw? The bastard who kidnaps them for his Hellfire Club. Erik Lehnsherr? A hard-boiled detective who's been on the Hellfire case for months. The catastrophe that unfolds when he goes in on retrieval and finds Charles Xavier still writhing in a Hellfire bed? .... Deep Cover.

A Murder of Ravens – AbandonedWorld

Summary:Charles Xavier is wrongfully accused. Erik Lehnsherr is a top-notch homicide Lieutenant who stumbles upon the case of a lifetime: a serial killer targeting mutants–and only mutants. Charles bides his incarceration waiting on a miracle, reciting Poe's timeless gem in effort to retain his sanity...

Note: Unfinished

#cherik #cherik fic recs #fic recs #detective au #asks #earnestly answers #long post

105 notes · View notes

sunfoxfic · 3 years ago

Note

So umm...I kind of like the senti theory but also feel really really guilty about it

Like I saw this post saying that it troubles real life abuse victims and that it invalidates them, and that by agreeing with the theory I am indirectly shutting out their experiences and invalidation for my own enjoyment and I feel really....guilty now?

I don't want to upset anyone or like, come off as if I value my enjoyment more than people who feel invalidated? Like I don't want people to feel invalidated or troubled by my posts:((

I do have a lot of theories based on the senti one but I am super scared to post them because of this:(

I saw your posts earlier and they made me feel a bit better, so maybe talking this would help me too? I don't really know...

There's this comic that I can't be bothered to find that's about trans representation in fiction. In it, there are two trans characters: One who really likes to consume media about trans characters going through magic transformations. The other who really likes to consume media about trans characters having realistic experiences.

The first character feels catharsis in wish fulfillment. The second feels catharsis in solidarity. The first feels saddened by the state of the world and the state of the trans experience and doesn't want to see that when they could consume media about how magical it is to be trans. The other feels disappointed by the fact that magical transformations aren't realistic and doesn't feel as though their experiences align with a magical transformation.

The conclusion of the comic is that both of these trans character are happy for one another and deserve to be represented in the way they find cathartic, even if it's not bread and butter for both of them.

It's not a one to one analogy, I admit that. But what invalidates one person may validate someone else. I agree, the sentiAdrien theory makes a lot of people feel invalidated.

The fact of the matter is, though, that any portrayal of the human experience can make someone feel invalidated. After all, they went through that experience, but they didn't go through it like that. Does it really count? Can they say they went through that experience at all?

There are people who feel incredibly validated and seen by the sentiAdrien theory, and who is that random poster to say that they shouldn't take respite in that catharsis?

There's plenty of reasons why the sentiAdrien theory is good. @gentil-minou gave a rundown of it here and here. But at the end of the day, I'm skeptical of anyone who says that this human experience is too bad and can't be turned into something mystical, magical, or otherwise otherworldly.

My experiences aren't anywhere near as bad as Adrien's, but I remember that moment, where it clicked, where suddenly my trauma was being represented as just as magical and fantastical as the rest of my life experiences. To tell someone, "No, your experiences are too far outside the norm, they can only ever be realistic, they can only ever be portrayed in a true-to-life, honest-to-God way," that seems far more invalidating than to create media where a distinctly human experience -- going through abuse at the hands of a parent -- is being represented in a way that's just as unrealistic and fantastical as the way the rest of the human experience is represented in this show.

At the end of the day, anon, your theorizing is not hurting anyone. The show is going to do what the show does, and no one is forcing anyone to watch the show, and if it hurts them so bad then they need to let it go. But especially, no one is forcing anyone to interact with whatever theorizing you may or may not be doing online. Tag your shit properly -- #sentiadrien, #sentimonster adrien, #sentimonster adrien agreste, #sentimonster adrien theory, #adrien agreste is a sentimonster, are all tags that you can use -- and don't force your content in someone's face. If it's upsetting to them, let them moderate their own experience on the internet.

It can be really tempting to try not to hurt anyone, and I do believe that it's a noble goal. But at the end of the day, anyone can feel invalidated by anything. It's super easy to feel as though you experienced something in the "wrong" way, and the solution isn't to cleanse the internet of anything that might be invalidating, but rather to provide something for everyone. My opinion? Whatever ML does won't be enough, if their goal is to validate everyone. That's why that should never have been the goal.

#sentiadrien #sentimonster adrien #sentimonster adrien agreste #sentimonster adrien theory #adrien agreste is a sentimonster #ml fandom salt #asks answered #anonymous #i'm answering this at 2 am so i'm sorry if this has like really weird typos or something #i. cannot get to sleep and for the first time in forever i've given up on trying

29 notes · View notes

xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 4 years ago

Text

Strength of Will: Two

“What happened last night?” Bruce demanded, leaning on the door frame of the gun room.

Bucky sighed, “I can’t talk about it.”

Bruce cocked an eyebrow and waited for Bucky to elaborate.

“I promised I wouldn’t talk about it,” Bucky said, fury roiling in his belly again.

Last night when he’d walked out back to your room, you told him the whole story. In one long, painful gush. Like a dam had broken and now that the secret was out, you couldn’t bear to hold it all back any longer.

Bucky learned that you couldn’t have children. He learned that, like everything, sex was painful. And that pain made it hard for you to want it and when you did it was enough of a deterrent that you tended to ignore it. Which was fine in theory. But for your spouse? It made him miserable. So you turned a blind eye to the other women and tried to be a good wife to him in other ways. And as you cried into your hands, Bucky had pulled you against his side. Anything to comfort you. Anything to make the pain stop. But at least then he understood why a you didn’t want him to say anything. It was humiliating. Knowing that no matter how much you loved anyone, there would be things you couldn’t do without pain. And not for the first time, he marveled at the strength you had. The way you decided to stay the course, even at the cost of your own heart.

Bruce’s eyes were narrowed as he looked at Bucky but, after a moment, he nodded. “I just saw her come inside looking upset. And I watched you follow her back in.”

Bucky nodded, “I was trying to help.”

“She didn’t come down to the lab today. Texted us to say she was gonna work from her bed.”

Bucky cringed and exhaled slowly, “It was... It was a rough night,” Bucky allowed.

“Pain?” Bruce asked looking concerned.

“Yeah,” Bucky murmured, hesitant to say anymore. He’d made a promise. And even if he couldn’t protect you from the knowledge that your husband was sleeping with other women, he could protect your dignity.

“Why didn’t Rory-”

“He was busy,” Bucky said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“Busy doing what?” Bruce said suspicious. The man was a kind of useless agent. Not one that was terribly conscientious. But handsome enough. He made good poster fodder. And a decent undercover agent. Every man handsome. No one really noticed him, despite his looks. And he was a decent husband, Bruce supposed. Surprising you with flowers. Aware of when you needed to go home and go to bed.

“I made a promise,” Bucky reminded.

“Stark can always look at the cameras,” Bruce countered.

“Don’t-” Bucky said softly, “She’s... She’d be humiliated.” Things aren’t what they look like, he wants to say. Her heart is broken and I promised I wouldn’t tell people about it.

Bucky watches Bruce’s face soften, nodding. “Alright,” he said quietly, “We were worried. Shuri is coming to meet her tomorrow. Usually she’d be in the lab making sure it’s up to scratch, not hiding in her bed.”

“I don’t think she’s hiding,” Bucky offered, “It’s more like a strategic retreat.”

Bruce nodded, “As long as she’s okay.”

“She will be,” Bucky murmured.

“Bucky-” Bruce said hesitating.

“She’s married,” Bucky said softly, “My feelings don’t matter.”

“Still. She deserves to know.”

Bruce doesn’t say anything else. He slips out of the armory and heads back to the lab, leaving Bucky with his own thoughts.

_____________

The next morning, you make your way to the lab. Leaning heavily on your cane. Your body feels like lead. And you know you should use the chair. You really should. But you can’t take feeling helpless today. You already feel raw and chaffed. Exposed.

You don’t want to have to look up at everyone all day. You want to just be normal. You’d give anything for it. And that makes you feel worse. So much worse. Because you know how lucky you are. How everything you can do is a one in a billion chance.

You give Bruce and Tony both a wave. And a quiet good morning. But you don’t see the way they look at each other. Your eyes are already red and you look exhausted. Still. That’s not unusual.

“Hey Rory,” Tony said, making your head snap up from checking your emails, “Nice hickey.”

Rory walks towards you, grinning, carrying a cup of coffee. But the grin fades when he can see the pain on your face. Pain Bruce doesn’t miss either. Bruce catches Tony’s eye frantically and jerked his head over to your desk. Quietly begging Tony to pay attention instead of dismissing your exhaustion as a late night with your husband.

“Rory,” you say swallowing hard, looking up into his big, dark eyes.

“I- sorr-”

“Don’t apologize,” you say, cutting him off, “Please? Don’t start lying to me too.”

Rory frowned when you pulled away from him kissing you and set the coffee down on the desk. “Fine,” he said gruffly, “Have it your way. If you need me, call someone else, huh?”

You nod, “I usually do.”

The muscle in his jaw ticks as he turns away from you and Bruce feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He couldn’t hear what was said, but he knew the look on your face. That was the pain of betrayal. That was... acceptance which could hurt in a dozen tiny ways. Every moment causing tiny, stinging cuts. And it never really stopped.

But there was no time to ask you about it.

Shuri bounded into the lab ahead of her brother. And Okoye. And you hardly had time to pull yourself to your feet, only for Shuri to send you both crashing to the floor when she over estimated how steady you’d be on your feet in her enthusiasm at being able to meet you face to face.

“Shit-” Tony said, rushing to help you to your feet and into a chair. Your face is several shades paler and tears are running down your face from the pain even as you try and tell Shuri it’s okay. She looks distraught and you smile a little, “It’s not the first time I’ve become acquainted with the floor,” you soothe. “You didn’t break me or anything.”

She nods “Still-”

You shake your head, “We have more important things to do today than worry about all of this.”

Shuri nodded again and you turn to Bruce, “Do I still have an extra chair in the lab?”

“You do,” Tony answered. He didn’t say that he’d made sure you had a few of them around the compound. Or that it probably took a year off his life every time he watched you fall.

“Can someone get it for me please? And help me lower my work table a little?”

Bruce can tell that you’re struggling. That you’re not happy about needed to be in your chair now. It’s in the tightness in your jaw. And your shoulders. You’re in pain. And embarrassed. But trying not to show it. Trying to keep Shuri from feeling guilty for hurting you.

Tony helps you into your chair carefully and squeezes your shoulder. “The blue button on that corner,” he said pointing, “will lower the table down.”

Okoye hit it and stepped back as the table lowered to a height you could work from in your chair.

You stretch your shoulders and smile up at Shuri, snatching your coffee cup off the table, “Shall we?” you ask.

“We shall,” she countered, giggling. And Bruce catches T’calla’s eye, nodding. He’ll keep things from getting too... creative. He’s used to being the only adult in the lab.

And when T’challa smiles a little, watching Shuri bend over the white board built into the table top, you catch his eye and wink. Shuri is in good hands. And you’re grateful for the distraction.

#T'challa #Okoye #bruce banner #tony stark #Bucky Barnes #cheating #bucky barnes x reader #angst #disabled reader

70 notes · View notes

d0ntw0rrybehappy · 4 years ago

Text

i’m going insane lol

so i feel like the next step in working hard is to not even perceive the work i’m doing as tiring. (rereading this it’s making me lol.) it seems weird that i find a part time job at a restaurant this exhausting? and like i can’t pretend that i’m not tired, but i have to somehow take better care of myself and set the conditions to not be tired from it.

i’ve been thinking about baudrillard/barthes a lot still -- pleasantly surprised that their theories are interesting to apply to any- and everything. for example, they both go into how every statement can also be read as its opposite or negation. so, to quote baudrillard, saying “i am not afraid of communism” also implies that communism is something you should be afraid of.

i’ve been using this as a kind of paranoid way to gain insight into why people tell me that i am “strong” because i don’t really know what that means. (other things i am told i am often: sweet, intense). it’s like what they’re saying is, there’s some kind of context, a milieu of weak people i’m being compared to. or like they want to reassure me that i am strong, because i actually come across as how i feel: like a particularly lost, unstable, emotional, sensitive, and lonely person.

i can’t with restaurant work anymore. it. SUCKS. i want to fucking get out, i am like a rat scrabbling at the walls of a glass aquarium. all novelty has worn off, all misguided overtures of honest work or “people skills.” and i’m still stuck here, still holding my breath in the deep end until i can find the eject button. i am tired, my body aches. my body aches!!

i want to just grind my way out (here we are with barthes again -- well if you truly wanted to do that you’d just shut the fuck up and do it instead of writing about it), but here i am, eating another round of chocolate (i don’t smoke, i don’t have sex, i truly just eat), constantly fucking hungry. then like a bull mowing into a red flag i realize i have been grinding...in a completely useless direction. it is like my passion for learning about things gets scattered every which way and i just can’t start, every path is equally exciting and awful and the injunction to “choose” is not “clicking” in my “head.” it’s like my mind cracked open at some point in my teenage years (when i started smoking weed, when my child universe was decisively fractured by a friend) and now the crack is snowing fireworks and glitter and i shift in and out of unreality.

reality is almost too painful to bear. nobody’s happy: you can find contentment by accepting your current lot, but “happiness" is really just contrast or relief from pain. it comes in and out. most people are too lazy or small-minded or too busy complaining to feel content, or their lives are just too twiggy, got too long in the wrong direction or are just too fucking hard. i guess i still am happy, and still love life, in a sort of ferocious and bloody and hungry way.

love is bleak, though. i barely even know how to define it anymore. (culture defines a love which we yearn for; we experience “love” insofar as our real love fleetingly resembles this model, only to come up short -- baudrillard). re: love, to use my mom’s favorite school-of-hard-knocks memory device for the laws of thermodynamics -- a subject she took? -- you can’t win, you can’t break even, you can’t get outta the game (and death and taxes). you are going to get royally FUCKED by love just like everybody else, and you are STILL gonna play, you beautiful mortal fool. like the tarot cards lauren dealt me, putting away the three cards she’d used to describe my near future and then flipping through the entire deck, picture side up, without realizing that i was quietly watching it describe my whole entire life -- clinging at the edge of my seat to see some eventual combination that spelled good, strong, lasting love and seeing only struggle, happiness, struggle, pain, struggle, and finally ending, at my death, in a small statue made of gold.

see also, other realities i hate to swallow: nearly all interpersonal problems are insurmountable and better left undealt with, and work basically sucks unless you are very lucky and very smart.

work. let’s go back to that. i used to think my work would be respected off its merit; now i see the merit in literally fucking my way up. i wonder if i should even be an artist at all. artists are kinda like showponies or whores; they’re not actually important. the more honest and wonderful they are, the less important they probably are, like schoolteachers. they have an impact on an individual level. but on a societal level, you have no control as an artist. you just get played by bigger fish. better to find a way to have your hands on the gears; that way you have a shot at making a higher-order change to society. but alas, the (capitalist) system is totally out of everyone’s hands and will keep running as usual no matter what you do, still savage in equal amounts, i think. doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try. but at this point i’d give a toe or finger to work for someplace like youtube. at least it’s reached critical mass where i could do something cool and make a difference with emerging media.

that or i pander to whatever blathering brain-melting slop, drivel, they’re putting on tv for kids and adults. or manage to convince a smaller nonprofit that i am “good at talking to people from diverse socioeconomic backgrounds,” whatever the hell that fucking means. or maybe, ugh god, i’ll work for an ad agency? or do digital strategy? and um, i could say some shit about how capitalism is darwinism and money is a form of social control that works so well because it’s out of the hands of any individual person, and i should probably just stick with art and believe in it, and maybe like, apply for grants. but i want a job, a full-time job. i want stability and enough money that i don't feel guilty buying new underwear and i don't want to hustle to keep the tap running month-to-month and i want to spend the majority of my time doing something i find fulfilling. and soon enough i'll get that, and all my dreams will come true: i’m going to get married and become a fat mom taking my kids to piano practice and saying “the meeting went on forever today,” and i’ll have a husband who never cleans the house enough, and then we’ll get divorced and he’ll find someone 20 years younger and i’ll live out the rest of my years semi-happily alone and i don’t know how i will ever have time to make art again. or if i do i just hope it’s not hobby-like, second-rate.

i wish i could have (feel) the bare-faced honesty and love of sha’carri richardson hugging her grandmother after she worked her ass off for a race. instead everything is this weird simulation where i never feel like i love anybody enough or like i’m working hard enough. i can’t speak honestly except when i am writing about myself (strong, sweet, intense, narcissistic) or things i have noticed, as directed to my own imaginary friend. when i try to communicate irl (or, worst of all, “be real”) it’s all so overthought, overwrought, self-conscious. the only person who knows my real private self is the girl winking at me on my black lives matter poster. i hope she doesn’t mind being here in my room. ducky, the stuffed animal brandon gave me, was also supportive but i put him away because it seemed bad to tell future guys that my stuffed animal is “the child of divorce.” and now /you guys/ know me a little bit, because i took the time to pretend you were all my imaginary friend, my dearest pen pal who laughs at all my jokes and gets all my references, and stopped pretending i was anything besides what’s written here.

and i think, like, a lot of people now live in this weird simulation? and are so confused about romantic and familial love to the point where everyone is getting off on family members fucking each other and can’t decide if it’s normal to think kids are hot? but i guess that was always some weird fucked-up demon side of human existence? another thing i’m supposed to accept. (also sorry trigger warning.) and another thing i took for granted as a child, that most people, if not everyone, is weird/gross/evil, but now that my mind is cracked this shocks me all over again and i seek some sort of explanation. it’s like i can’t find a real hunk of closeness anywhere. i’m close to my own family, but in my other relationships we’re either too distant or too close and i’m desperately searching for just some normal friends. and to be able to give a speech where i tell someone i really love them and for it to ring true. but i try to be grateful that i live in driving distance to the beach and there’s air conditioning and once i stop being a stupid baby there’s probably more friends and work and stuff out there for me. and then i’ll have some new problem.

#i would put this as read more but it doesnt work on my blog SORRYYY

1 note · View note

yelenasdog · 5 years ago

Text

rockstar (peter parker x gn reader)

genre: fluff with a lil angst

summary: peter always comes to the reader when he’s hurt, but reader wonders if it could mean something more.

words: 1465 ( more or less LMAO)

warnings: light cursing, peter being hurt, some kissing? idk if that counts sorry lol.

a/n: hello! so this is inspired by the song Lover of Mine by 5 Seconds of Summer so i strongly reccomend listening to it by reading! if u prefer to read it on wattpad from my peter parker imagines book, click here !

·。·。·。·。·。·。·。·。·。·。·。·。·

knock knock!

I was abrubtly woken from my peaceful sleep by the loud sounds coming from my window.

"What the hell," I muttered out as I groggily checked the current time. 3:47 am. I reluctantly made my way over, having a feeling it was a certain webslinger. I peeled open the entrance to see Peter, still in his spidey suit, without the mask may I add. I grabbed onto his broad shoulders, pulling him through the opening, almost slipping on the hard floor due to my fuzzy socks.

"Pete, what are you doing, people could see you without the mask." I heard his feet as he quietly padded over to sit on my soft comforter with an obvious limp.

I went over to my lamp and switched it on, a warm glow being strewn across the room by it. As Peter sat on my bed, I turned to meet him, gasping at what had been brought to my attention by the light. I rushed over to the boy, pressing the spider in the center of his suit, causing it to slide off and pool at his feet.

Peter grimaced as I soflty dragged my fingers against his bruised and battered skin from where I sat on the floor next to my bed.

"What happened to you, Pete?" I spoke, looking up at him, my facial expression laced with concern.

"Well," he began as he tried to sit up, groaning in the process, "just got hit a little harder than usual, that's all. It's no biggie, really."

I sighed, placing a tender hand on his from where I sat on the floor in a crouching position. I stood up, my hand staying in the same position.

"It kinda looks like a biggie, bud." One of my hands moved to run itself through his messy brown locks as I looked him up and down once more, scanning for any underlying injuries I might have missed at first look.

He flashed me a tired smile which I returned.

"I'm gonna go grab some stuff to patch you up, k?" This time I gave him a small smile, and he was the one who returned it gratefully.

"Thank you y/n." I squeezed his now bare hand, standing and turning to go.

"It's no problem, Pete, honestly."

As I tried to leave, he lightly tugged me back by my wrist, catching me by surpise. My breath caught in my throat at the action.

"Really, y/n, I don't know what I would do without you."

I smiled at him once more, "Same to you, BugBoy"

He released my hand, allowing me to go get his supplies. As I gathered what I needed from the cabinet, my head was clouded with thoughts of the boy. The same thoughts that had been clouding my head since the day I had met him.

We had first met at midtown through decathlon, and grew quite close. I was entranced by the boy and everything about him, from his starwars obsession to the way he would rant about different scientific theories. It made my heart swell for reasons I would like to think I couldn't understand. He would confine in me with any problems he was going through, such as Uncle Ben passing, or even some of his biggest secrets, Spider-Man being one of them.

He hadn't meant for me to find out. Not in the way I did, at least.

It had been after a long day at school, when Ned had gone to hang out with Peter and build the lego deathstar, and I tagged along to surprise him, as I had been gone on a trip for quite some time and wanted to see him. Turns out I was the one in for a surprise, because I found out peter was Spider-Man that same day when he walked in on the ceiling through his window. It was a bit of a shock to say the least.

My feelings had only grown for the boy since that point, which also left me with uncalled for emotions that I had a difficult time dealing with. Especially when Peter would do this every time he would get hurt. This whole routine of coming to me at ungodly hours of the night, and me patching him up every time without question. It was sad to say the least.

The way my heart would ache for the boy in red, so much so that I would sacrifice so much for his happiness, whatever form that would take.

I tried to deny the feelings that would arise when I was around him, and God, was it difficult. I looked myself in the mirror, taking a deep breath. I walked back out to where Peter was waiting for me, reaching out and placing all the supplies on my mahogony side table.

"I know you hate hearing this, but we might have to do stitches, Pete."

He groaned, looking up to my poster covered ceiling as if one of the singers on the paper would somehow deny the fact he needed the medical attention.

He looked back at me, giving me puppy dog eyes.

"Come on, Rockstar? Really?"

My heart swelled at the nickname he had gifted me after finding out about my love for music, one of the many things we bonded over. I was tempted to give in, but quickly snapped out of it.

"Nice try, Peter, but this is for your own good, so lets just get it over with, yeah?"

His head dropped and he nodded, looking down to his feet.

"Head up, bub, I need to be able to see what I'm doing and get this done before it starts to scab." I could have sworn Peter's pupils dialated and he seemed a little off at the pet name, but yet again, it was nearly 4 am, so I very well could have been imagining things, and probably was.

As I started to run the needle through the forming scar, he let out a whimper, gripping my shoulder in pain as his eyes screwed shut. He did this often, grabbing me “as hard as he could” whenever he was hurting.

It was an idea I had introduced to him to deal with any especially bad injuries, our little way of dealing with the pain. I knew it might cause me some minor damage, as he would never hurt me. I assured Peter every time that I felt okay, but something nagged at me telling me he felt guilty, and that he wasn't gripping as hard as he could.

As I went through what I imagined was an especially painful part, he cursed loudly under his breath.

"Fuck!"

I stopped what I was doing momentarily to check on him after the short outburst, unusual for his kind and calm demeanor.

"Are you okay, Peter?"

He moved his large hands to tightly grip his hair, moving down to his neck, back and forth.

"No, y/n! I'm not okay. I'm hurting, I'm hurting so bad, y/n/n" His volume increased and decreased again, silent tears falling down his face.

I had dropped the needle that I had been using, shocked by his volume. I picked it back up again, resuming my task with conceringly shaky hands.

"I can try to be softer if it would help, Pete." My voice was gentle as I spoke, in a feeble attempt to not upset him further.

He looked at me and to his shoes as he began to talk, his voice low I could barely hear him.

"No, y/n, it's not you, you're doing amazing, it's just," he didn't finish his sentence, he rather just trailed off.

I blew out a deep breath, my eyes never leaving the work in front of me.

"What is it, Peter?"

I tied the knot on the stiches, cutting the thread and disposing of the needle in the small biohazard waste kit froom the first aid box.

I stood up directly in front of him to where I was slightly higher up than him. I reached a hand forward, wiping away a stray tear. He took my wrists in his hands, taking me off guard.

"Actually, y/n, I lied." I tensed, concerned about what he was going to say.

"It is you. It's always been you."

Confusion consumed me as I shook my head, and I wondered if it was just my tired state that had caused the emotions.

"Peter, what do you mean you're not making any sens-"

Before I could finish my sentence, he leaned forward encapsulating our lips in a sweet and long awaited kiss. He let go of my wrists, moving his own hands, one to rest around my waist protectivley, the other on the back of my neck under my hair. I moved one of mine to lazily drape over his left shoulder, the other playing with the curls on the nape of his neck. The kiss lasted a long while, but not long enough.

Our hands went to the sides of each others faces when we parted, and his own strong hands started running small circles on my jaw. As we struggled to catch our breaths, he began to speak, the boyish smile I loved so much covering his face.

"My feelings for you are there, Y/n, always have been, and they always will be. I want you to take all of me, Rockstar."

I giggled at the wording of his statement, appreciating it nonetheless. He pressed our foreheads together, a mutal content taking over us.

"Although that was extremely cheesy, I’ll allow it this once. You have no idea how long I've wanted you to say that, BugBoy."

·。·。·。·。·。·。·。·。·。·。·。·。·

idk how i feel about this tbh, kinda love it kinda hate it. stay funky! xx hj

34 notes · View notes

robiness · 5 years ago

Text

Raven Branwen could teach us to trust love (theory, V7CH12 spoilers)

Yeah, that’s what I said.

In my theory about Qrow’s arc, I mentioned that the worst possibility is that Raven gets to Qrow, because obviously they’re hostile to each other and have different worldviews. He’s fragile and can be easily manipulated to returning to the Branwen ways.

It was a Qrow theory, so I focused on him. All I said about Raven was that she’s clever and brutal, and she wants her family to concede that she’s right in her philosophy.

I’ve seen a few ideas about Raven saving everything, but I dismissed them because of my own perception of her character. But after seeing them a couple more times today, I considered a new possibility.

(this is a theory for a RWBY7 hopeful ending, if you don’t want to get your hopes up, i’ll understand)

Yes, Raven is clever, brutal, ruthless. I still firmly believe that she’ll do anything for what she considers worth fighting for. In my perspective, these are (1) protecting her tribe, and (2) making her family realize that she was right all along.

(2) is something she constantly keeps doing even in hostile situations. She tries and tries, and is extremely frustrated at the stupidity she sees. She feels betrayed by Qrow, too, since he used to subscribe to their ways, but she still tries.

She HAS expressed outright care before. Most obvious is the Yang vs Neo fight yes, but there’s another one I forgot and now made me consider her influence as a positive thing.

This conversation between her and Yang in Volume 5.

Most of V5, Raven is rigid in her beliefs. She’s very firm with trying to convince Yang she was right when they met in the tribe, and even in Haven Academy, she left without caring if Qrow or anyone died, but she still tried to get through to her brother.

Later, when Yang confronts her after the Maiden fight, her reaction is angry. She thinks, again, that Yang is getting it all wrong like everything else. Ozpin’s war is hopeless, and Raven is the only one not brainwashed into his ideals. This was probably exacerbated by the fact she just defeated Cinder, again proving that she’s on top.

“It's not that simple. You don't know me, you don't know what I've been through, the choices I've had to make!”

“I've stared death in the face over and over again! And every time I've spat in that face and survived because I'm strong enough to do what others won't!”

“Who do you think you are lecturing me?! Standing there, shaking like a scared little girl?!”

She feels superior, and righteous in her rage.

But then Yang calls her bluff. Raven might think she was making the right decisions, but Yang saw very clearly that she was too weak to do anything else but kill and run.

Yang proved to her that she did know Raven, because she was right in thinking that Raven would bail yet again if Yang offered to take the Relic that was a magnet for danger.

Then, Raven makes this expression for the first time:

She is guilty, ashamed, upset, and at the time, I thought that this was only because she was putting her daughter in danger.

But if you think about it, she’s never completely cared about her family’s lives before, not if they interfere with her highest priorities. I’ll repeat: (1) protecting her tribe, and (2) making her family realize that she was right all along.

However, Yang just proved to her that... she wasn’t right. At least, not in the image she was trying to project - a righteous, fearless woman who was making difficult decisions.

I... I'm sorry...

I can bet that she’s never said these words before. Not to Tai, not to Qrow, not to Summer. But now she says this to her daughter who just proved to be much braver than she is. Who wrecked her worldview.

So what? She left anyway. Why would she come now? Why would she change?

I think the fact that she left is the answer. She made a quick, automatic decision to run away, despite her claims of righteousness and bravery. But she was crying and emotional as she did.

Once she was gone, she was gone. There was no mention of her in the next two volumes, other than a teased visit to Tai, and who knows what that was about?

Also, a LOT of people had asked why tf did Yang never tell anybody about her mom being the Spring Maiden.

I don’t really know why Yang as a character made that decision. But maybe the narrative kept her out on purpose, to make viewers forget about her.

Because, you know, I never understood why Raven Branwen was the Spring Maiden, when all other potential Maidens had some sort of connection to the seasons they were assigned (Pyrrha, then Cinder to Fall, Winter/Penny to Winter).

Raven was, if anything, the entire opposite of the concept of spring - rebirth, life, change for the better.

I think she’s about to prove me wrong.

Volume 7: Qrow and Clover

Clover and Qrow had a healthy developing relationship that was cut off prematurely. This broke Qrow and stopped his recovery for seemingly no reason other than to hurt him, and us.

Clover and Qrow had quick but utterly significant scenes that seemed to be wasted just like that. Why?

I think it still stands that this was meant to really, really hurt.

But.

As said in my Qrow theory, and those of many others, only Raven can get to Qrow now in his fragile state, with their connection through her Semblance.

Clover and Qrow are in the tundra, out in the snow. If Raven gets there, how could she save them? By opening another portal to Yang, who is in Atlas, a city with the greatest technology and Pietro Polendina, either or both of which should be enough to save Clover.

Ironwood survived half of his body getting so mangled that they had to replace it with metal. If Clover was left in the tundra, then yeah he has no chance. But if Raven gets them to Atlas, where all the resources are...

Let’s talk about this color scheme.

I, like many others, immediately recognized this as the bi flag colours. It was insulting, demeaning, and cruel for a volume that puts heavy emphasis on “trust love”.

But what if it was put there to indicate that we still should trust despite what just happened? It would still be a traumatizing creative decision, but it would make sense to a predominantly cishet main crew. And any other staff who may have considered that it may hurt would be distracted by the (potential) utter brilliance of it.

The setting was a dark, isolated tundra when Clover died. But the sun rose.

When is a sunrise significant in that kind of setting? That’s right, spring. Hope, love.

Qrow and Clover’s connection was wonderful, but underdeveloped. We assumed the theme Trust Love applied to them, but it was twisted cruelly, making the audience feel like it was just for shock value.

But what if it’s not their love that should be trusted right now? It is in its early stages, which is why we were so angry at the loss of potential. So maybe it’s not the focus.

What if it’s the unexpected love of Raven (spring, hope, sunrise) coming to aid her brother?

Qrow’s recovery: Raven

I’ve extensively talked about the twins’ relationship from Qrow’s perspective. It’s fractured and opposing. That’s a given.

But imagine. Imagine if at this darkest hour, Qrow’s big sister, who he’s given up on, saves him and makes things better.

Clover was good for Qrow, but he doesn’t have to be the only one that is. Raven being open to compromise AND saving Clover? That would be such relief for my poor bird.

A real partner, and estranged sister back in his life? That will skyrocket his recovery so much that I’m literally crying right now at the thought.

Supporting Literary Parallels:

1. The first part of this post brings up the Aesop’s Fable that Clover is based on. To summarize, the Fisherman is down on his luck, but something unexpected happens, he gets his fish that makes his days better.

2. Qrow is the scarecrow of the Wizard of Oz. This is why many of us are terrified of what’s going to happen next, because the other two companions of Dorothy, Leo (Lion) and Ironwood (Tin Man) have lost the gifts they seek.

However, we have forgotten that the scarecrow is Qrow’s basis on a lesser degree. Even his position is lower - he’s not a Headmaster, he’s a simple Huntsman. He “serves” Oz, yes, but that part is nulled when his loyalty was betrayed by Ozpin’s secrets.

Even when he was helping Ozpin, he wasn’t a major player, he didn’t guard any relics, he was primarily a spy, which connects more to his forefront literary basis:

3. Hugin and Munin (sources: 1, 2)

Hugin (thought) is Raven. Munin (memory, mind) is Qrow. In Norse mythology, these are Odin’s two ravens that he sends out to spy for information around the worlds.

Hugin and Munin Fly every day Over all the world; I worry for Hugin That he might not return, But I worry more for Munin.

Raven (thinks herself objective and sensible) definitely matches “might not return”, and Qrow (mental health poster boy held down by memories) is definitely someone who’s always on the brink of tragedy.

But the thing about the original ravens is that they’re always together. Qrow and Raven have never worked together in-show. That’s the difference between the originals and our characters.

My theory is that they’ll come together, because Raven and Qrow have already shown signs of change from what their originals represent.

But it’s two ravens, no crows! At first, this bummed me out, I thought that this fact would be more supportive of my first tragic Qrow theory. But then...

Crows travel in groups, they’re more sociable (Qrow and his kids). Ravens often travel in pairs (her apparent closeness with Vernal). (bird facts source)

While Qrow would enjoy being with a lot of people, Raven would probably be more picky with her companions, and Vernal, her second, is now dead.

Therefore, even if Qrow needs Raven at this very moment, Raven needs her brother, too. It’s not only Qrow who will benefit from the reunion.

The Branwen twins will both be better if they work together. In human minds, plans (Raven) and passion (Qrow) need to coincide for survival.

And if this theory comes through, there will be two ravens to satisfy Raven, and Qrow will always be himself, surrounded by family, at the same time. (hint hint side note crows mate for life the two would still have a lot of development to do)

Last thoughts:

This could be wrong. The Qrow tragedy might still happen. Something completely different could. Raven could be a total bitch the whole series.

IDK OKAY. bUT YEAH IM HOPING fuuuuck

Yeah, maybe we shouldn’t trust anything anymore. After all, so many people were truly hurt by last episode, it was still damaging. Turning this around won’t erase that fact.

But... I really want my Qrow happy. He’s been the most relatable character for me, with the things he goes through, and I’d love it so much if he will come out stronger, with a large support system and some goddamn happiness. And I think... my version makes sense, too?

So maybe everything has a reason. Maybe this is setting up for something really great. We’re very hurt now, but... the sun is rising.

To prepare us for spring?

#rwby #rwby7 #rwby theory #rwby analysis #qrow branwen #raven branwen #clover ebi #yang xiao long #rwby meta #fair game #let qrow branwen be happy #clover ebi defense squad #lucky charms #FUCK #sigh #meta

17 notes · View notes

wellknownwolf · 5 years ago

Note

I want to move into a new phase in my relationship with fandom, as I mature with new experiences. I'm not sure what exactly that looks like though. What is your take on the parasocial affection inherent in an RPF like Rhett & Link? Or even the deep attachments that can form with fictional characters? Or a desire to emulate fantasy worlds? I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable with all this, it's just that it's been a long time coming, and once I got started I couldn't stop. - Natasha (5)

First, let me post the full question, since it came in 5 parts:

Hey, it's me again. Your 'mystery inquirer', as you so adorably dubbed me. You're right, I had forgotten I'd sent in that ask. Just now, I couldn't help but think about a scene from Life After, as I am wont to on a frightfully regular basis, which is what got me back here. When you said you pondered over my seemingly simple, banal question for a good while, and wrote out a beautifully thoughtful answer like you always do, it made me happy.

Your narrative voice is similar to my own, and it made my chest ache in a certain way to have gotten such a response to what felt like a random shout out into the abyss (though it obviously wasn't, I sent it directly to you, I guess it's more what it felt like taking a chance on a conversation with a random stranger online). And now I'm cringing a bit at how melodramatic all sounds. But I'm committing to it, anyway. That's the beauty of anon, eh?

Wolfie (is it presumptuous to call you that? Please do forgive me the liberty I'm taking), I must admit. I'm quite envious of this community you have with @missingparentheses, @lunar-winterlude, and other wonderful people. Since childhood, I've been head over heels in love with fandom. Not a specific fandom, I've been a traveller through dozens, but fandom in general. I've read probably thousands of fanfics, spent countless hours daydreaming about beloved characters and their stories.

To the point where, in my most recent and worst depressive episode, it may have been for the worse, if I'm honest. Escapism and yearning to the point of impairment, engendering a sense of constant bereavement. But it's taught me so much about life and its wonders, I can't write it off as just some damaging habit. It's such an integral part of who I am, a deeply curious soul (shout out to my Enneagram Type 5-ers out there!). But I don't anyone to share it with, and it can get quite lonely.

.....................................................................

Thank you for giving me so much to respond to, Natasha. Thank you for continuing to reach out. I accidentally wrote something like a paper in response to your thoughtful question. I even conducted a little research and cited a source. ENGLISH TEACHER, ACTIVATE!

Also, for what it’s worth, I feel at times that I communicate exclusively through shouts into the abyss, so it’s a language with which I am at home. In fact, it is this very technique, this experiment with intense vulnerability at the hands of a virtual stranger, that earned me one of my absolutely most-treasured friends: @missingparentheses. I have poured out a great deal of my own melodrama to her, and she has received it and reciprocated it in a way that, three years later, continues to teach me how to be a better friend. In short, I’m a firm believer in diving straight in when it comes to new friends. Cringe not; I’m on board.

So let’s dive.

R&L is really only the second “fandom” with which I’ve been involved. Third, if we count my preteen obsession with ‘N Sync (and considering how much wall space I dedicated to their posters and self-printed photos, we probably should). My point is, while I don’t have much experience with the community facet of fandom, I do relate to your feeling of near-obsession. Or clear obsession.

I know the feeling of escapism you’re describing, and I know the yearning and melancholy that can come on our worst days, where we feel like “real life” will never measure up to the color and brilliance of the worlds we spend so much time considering. These worlds, these characters and their relationships, their challenges, victories, and defeats all seem so purposeful: they’re the plot points we use to craft the stories in our heads (regardless of whether we’re writers at all). It can be much harder to view ourselves as protagonists worth analyzing, viewing and reviewing through new lenses, perhaps because we’re warned against navel-gazing, perhaps because our self-perception just won’t allow for it. Maybe a little of both.

But yes! It teaches us! We DO learn about life, other people, love, risk, all kinds of things through what we consume in these fandoms, so I would never classify it as a “bad” thing. We hone our imaginations and learn to pay attention to our own emotions as we recognize feelings from our favorite shows, games, books, and characters arising in ourselves.

I used to be a little afraid of the fact that I was always telling myself stories, internally imagining myself as someone else, a player in the worlds I often loved more than my own. I suspected that someday, somehow, I would be caught playing pretend all the time in my own little ways. I was a bright and ambitious young woman, so why would I give so much of my mental energy to such frivolous pursuits?

In my first semester of graduate school, though, I learned from a Lit. Theory professor who intimidated the hell out of me that we all do this. We’re all telling ourselves stories all the time, some of which are true and close to objective reality, some of which are more subjective to whatever fantastical (or fandom) material we last consumed. I’ve whispered my own dialogue in the shower, but so have you whispered yours in your head (if not also out loud in your shower!). And through this act, however it is performed, I have made those worlds part of my own. So have you. In this way, they are real, and I no longer feel fearful of being “found out.”

When we have those moments of doubt, though, when we wonder whether we’re going too far, it probably stems, at least partially, from the “us v. them” divide between fandom and mainstream society. We love our little worlds, but we also feel that twinge of anxiety that we might be bordering on obsession, that our guilty pleasure might be discovered and we will be socially punished for it, namely, as Joli Jensen writes in “Fandom as Pathology: The Consequences of Characterization,” because “the fan is characterized as (at least potentially) an obsessed loner, suffering from a disease of isolation, or a frenzied crowd member, suffering from a disease of contagion. In either case, the fan is seen as being irrational, out of control, and prey to a number of external forces” (13). According the consistent covert (and overt, at times) messages of the mainstream, “[f]andom is conceived of as a chronic attempt to compensate for a perceived personal lack of autonomy, absence of community, incomplete identity, lack of power and lack of recognition” (Jensen 17). Yikes. That doesn’t feel good to admit about ourselves, does it?

Luckily, it’s bullshit.

Treating “fans” as others (outsiders, people who can’t form relationships or find fulfillment in the “real world”) “risks denigrating them in ways that are insulting and absurd” (Jensen 25). Those who take this stance, who see fans as victims of hysteria or desperate loners, do so in order to “develop and defend a self-serving moral landscape. That terrain cultivates in us a dishonorable moral stance of superiority, because it makes other into examples of extrinsic forces, while implying that we [members solely of the mainstream] somehow remain pure, autonomous, ad unafflicted” (Jensen 25). In short, that us/them thinking just makes people feel better about themselves by pointing out an easily-identifiable “other.”

I have also grappled with the concept of parasocial affection, particularly with R&L. I was well into writing my first Rhink fic when the thought crossed my mind, “Oh my god, what if I actually met these people someday? How would I look them in the eye? I’d feel like a crazy person (again)!” From the safety of the Midwest, I laughed off the thought. And then a year or so later, they were announcing their first tour. And I was still writing, here and there, still deep in my affection for them, sometimes wrestling with the thought that I’ve devoted so much energy to people who would never know I exist.

It doesn’t matter that the attachment was in the most obvious, tangible ways only one-sided. As an adult who is ever-learning how to navigate the worlds of her own creation and the ones over which she has far less control, I view my intense attachment to characters both real and fictional with deep fondness. And while I may not receive affection or attention directly from the sources (R&L, fictional characters, sports teams, who/whatever we build fandoms around), I am still earning some very real rewards for my involvement: Because of them, I found my way to a participatory culture in which I was supported and encouraged to express my creativity. This gave me the push and interest that I needed to hone skills that have not only made me a better writer, but also a better teacher and mentor. With fandom comes the ability to immediately strike up a conversation over shared interests. With fandom comes a sense of belonging in what we have proven is an awfully divisive world.

Right now, I’m consuming far less fandom-related material than I did a few years ago. I don’t really watch GMM anymore and I’m on a break from Ear Biscuits (though I still love it), Gotham ended over a year ago and I’m not in the habit of reading fics right now, and I can’t yet play the remade Final Fantasy 7, so that’s out for me, too (though I know I will fall deep into that well once the game is in my hot little hands). This all happened by itself. I never consciously moved away from these sources; I just floated on to other interests and other levels of interest, knowing that if and when I wanted to dig back in, I could always come back.

I used to feel quite sad at the thought of someday “moving on” from these intense interests. I couldn’t fathom somehow falling out of love with those bands, actors, or video games. But for me, the transition into wherever I am now has not been painful in the least. I’m glad I knew the intensity that I did, and I’m happy with the distance I have now. And there’s a good chance I’ll be fanatic about something else someday. I’m looking forward to it!

Here are some responses that I couldn’t organically fit into my essay:

Yes, you can call me Wolfie if you’d like. That name started with @missingparentheses (her second appearance in this answer!), and quickly became a reminder to not take myself too seriously.

Second, I don’t think I know any other Type 5s! I’m a type 8.

Also, here’s my MLA formatted citation for the Jensen source:

Jensen, Joli. “Fandom as Pathology: The Consequences of Characterization.” The Adoring Audience: Fan Culture and Popular Media, Routledge, 1992, pp. 9-29.

#ask me anything #fandom meta-discourse #bc I always said I wouldn't get involved in fandom discourse #oh no I'm us/them-ing in my tags!#shame on me!

4 notes · View notes

rogersradio · 6 years ago

Text

1970 | queen (part 1)

Summary: After working at a record store and discovering a record player that can transport you back in time, you find yourself in London of 1970. After scrambling to get back, you realize that something has gone terribly wrong with an infamous band, and you are the only one who can fix it.

Author’s Note: The beginning is very rushed (this whole chapter) only because I have big plans for the next couple of chapters. Please give feedback if you want this series to continue - it’s my first Queen work.

“They always say that time changes things, but actually you have to change them yourself.” - Andy Warhol (1975)

You worked at a record store in an old London strip, sandwiched between an ice cream shop and a children’s boutique. The building had been there for more then fifty years, according to the owner, and anyone who got close enough to look at it could tell. The concrete outside was stained with age, and the paint on the inside was beginning to peel. The man who ran the store knew of these things since you and your co-worker had begun to more frequently make remarks about the damages, but he would only shake his head with a smile and remark, “It makes it more authentic - a little more magical, don’t you think?”

With its dingy carpet floors and flickering sign, you didn’t understand how he could find anything magical about that store. It smelled of old paper and coffee, occasionally hosting the scent of a Bath and Body Works candle if you remembered to bring it. The cases for the vinyls were ridden with dust, and there was always Queen playing from a record player in the back corner of the store. It always played the same album: A Night At The Opera. You didn’t mind, since you had been a fan of Queen since you were little. Growing up, your dad would play it almost 24/7, and you grew to love the band and their music. No one dare change the album, and it’s been rumored that the same record has been playing for years straight; which, you must point out, is highly illogical. No vinyl record could play for that long without becoming damaged and scratched, especially if nobody has tried to take care of it.

It was a rainy Saturday when the owner, Mr. Jay as you called him, decided to stop by. He leaned against the register counter and cleaned his glasses with the handkerchief he kept in his pocket. “How’s everything going?” He asked, smiling. He was a short man with a semi-full figure. He had thick salt and pepper hair that dragged down into stubble along his jaw. He wore jeans, a plain white t-shirt and an olive green bomber jacket that stored a variety of items in its pockets: altoids, kleenex, money, you name it.

“Slow,” You said honestly. You were making your rounds of all the records, checking to be sure they were all in the right place: sorted by date. Your co-worker, Gabriel, let out a breathy laugh and kept scrolling on his phone.

Mr. Jay looked over to him with a sad smile, and then focused back down to his glasses. You began to feel guilty; you knew how much this shop meant to him. Who were you to talk about this man’s possessions like you were? You were a college student in need of a summer job that paid well so you could get your car radio fixed. Before you could speak up to apologize, or atleast end on a happier note, he spoke up, “It always is.”

He lifted his glasses up to the dim light to check for smudges and squinted. Dull thunder rolled in the background as a gentle shower of rain began to fall, hitting the tin roof above and echoing throughout the store. He slipped the clear-rimmed spectacles back on and sighed, strolling towards the isles of records. He dragged his finger tips along the top of them, stopping under the “1960’s” section. He pulled out a Beatles’ album and examined it. “Did you know there’s a conspiracy that Paul McCartney is dead?” He asked. You shook your head and he laughed, “It’s silly, it really is. Many believe that this,” He turned the revord to show the popular Sgt. Pepper’s Lonley Hearts Club Band album cover. “Depicts his funeral. There’s a left handed guitar made of flowers down in the corner, but It really could be a right handed one flipped the other way.” He continued to mumble on about the theory for a few more moments until he stopped and looked up at the two of you, who were both staring at him awkwardly. He slipped the album back into its slot and took a deep breath, “Well I guess it’s my time to leave.”

He took several large strides and picked up his hat and phone off of the counter. “Have a good one,” He called out as he slipped out the door. You both stood silent as you watched him pull out of his parking space and drive out of eyesight. It was always a weird, somewhat sympathetic, feeling after he left. Neither of you didn’t really know what to do. You stood and fiddled with the belt loop on your jeans.

“He’s an odd man,” Gabriel spoke quietly. You nodded. “Gives me weird vibes; like he’s seen way too many things. Did you see the way he spoke about that conspiracy? It was like he was genuinely amused, like he was the one who created it or something.”

“He’s just different,” You said, “I don’t think he means any harm.”

Gabriel shook his head with wide eyes. “I don’t know Y/N. Something isn’t right about that guy. He came in here to do what? Be a spokesman for the “Paul McCarney Is Dead” club?” He shuddered.

You didn’t say anything. Brushing off any questions you had about Mr. Jay, you continued to do your album sweep. By the time you had reached the 1970’s, the song playing from the record player began to skip. You waited a moment for the skip to pass, but it just kept going. Already agitated from the creeping day, you stormed over to the old machine and stared at it for a moment. The spinning Queen logo made you dizzy. The player was covered in dust, and it was clear to you that nobody had touched it for a long while. You blew on it first, and then reached for the tonearm to fix it.

As soon as your fingertips touched the arm, you felt yourself being thrown from the record player. It was as if you were in a plane during takeoff: insane amounts of pressure were building on you, squeezing your body and twisting it in jerking motions. Your head felt as though it would crack and explode in any moment, and you squeezed your eyes tighter than they ever had been before to avoid seeing your insides being blown out. Before you could fully slip out of consciousness, you felt your feet firmly on the ground again. You stood still as your hearing began to come back, keeping your eyes still closed tightly shut. It wasn’t before you heard the commotion of voices that you decided to open them.

You were standing in the same place you had been: next to the record player that was sitting on the wooden stool. Except for this time, the player was brand new, and the music that was playing wasn’t queen; it was “Hey Jude” by The Beatles. You took a few moments to stand there, trying to calm the pounding headache in your head and figure out what in the world had just happened. Maybe I blacked out, you thought, or maybe I’m dead. Is this Heaven? Kind of dissapointing. You shook the thoughts out of your head and tried to stable your shaking body. It took a few moments for you to realize that you weren’t alone, so you slowly turned around and caught your breath. There was atleast thirty people in the record shop, browsing through the albums and talking amongst themselves. You couldn’t hear much since you were standing right next to the speaker, but something wasn’t right. The shop was lively and colorful, and Gabriel was nowhere to be found. Okay, this has to be Heaven, you convinced yourself, Where else would there be this many people in here? This has to be a dream.

A voice pulled you back into reality. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

You jumped and turned to your left to see a girl who looked about your age. Her hair was short and feathered, and she wore a long patterned skirt with a purple blouse. Her teeth were shining white and perfectly straight, and you could tell she wore a thin layer of lip gloss. She resembled Princess Diana when she was alive. “No,” You croaked, “Just looking around.”

“No problem, just let me know if you need anything. My name’s Michelle,” She said as she smiled. She turned to walk away.

“Thanks,” You hesitantly said. Nobody seemed to care that you were there; like you had been there all along. Realizing that you couldn’t stand there and people watch for forever, you took a deep breath and went to walk outside. You needed to figure out what was going on, and where exactly you were.

You wobbled at the first step, and it was more than just uneasy legs. Looking down, you realized you weren’t in your jeans and sweatshirt anymore. You were wearing tight, bell bottomed baby blue pants and a blue ruffled blouse. You wore white boots with a slight heel and quickly realizing something was seriously different, you frantically grabbed for your hair and realized it was long and straight, down below your shoulders. It wasn’t like that before. You were beggining to panic, and rushed out the door as fast as you could. You brushed past employees and young children cradling vinyl records, offering quiet apologizes as you did.

Once you busted through the doors and onto the street, you were taken aback. The streets were full of life. People passed you and offered friendly smiles. The smell of cigarette smoke and burnt rubber filled the air, along with hairspray whenever a girl walked by. Men’s hair was slicked back with gel to resemble Elvis and the women on their arms wore patterned dresses and jumpsuits with their hair up in high ponytails or curled. This definitely wasn’t 2019.

Looking around, you spotted a boy who looked around your age standing by a wooden post. He was fumbling tape on one hand and a small poster in the other, and eventually turned his back to you to apply the poster to the pole. You scurried over to him, still getting used to your shoes, and called out, “Hey!”

He quickly flashed his head around to you and paused what he was doing. He has slightly shaggy blond hair with big blue eyes. Slight bangs were hanging in front of his eyes, but as you got closer he brushed them out of the way. He wore tight pants and Lou Brock Converse, with a long, tan trench coat that was partly buttoned up. “Yes?” He said, lowering his arms.

You eyed the poster in his hands. “Could I have that?” You asked slightly out of breath.

He widened his eyes a little at your question, but gave you a quick look up and down and cautiously handed it to you. “Sure,” He said, biting his lip. “Are you interested in coming?” He asked eagerly.

“Um,” You faltered. Coming to what? You didn’t even know what decade you were in. Quickly scanning the paper, the headline “SMILE - MUSICAL PERFORMANCE” caught your eye. “Yes, actually. I’m new around here, and I was, uh, looking for something to do.”

The blond boy smiled. “Well, I hope we see you there,” He exclaimed. Giving you a smile, he turned and began to walk away. “I play drums, by the way!” He called.

You looked up and laughed a little. He blushed and swiveled around once more, this time not turning back. You immediately looked back down at the paper and searched it for any type of date. The only thing you got was June 2, not any year. Sighing, you slowly began to turn the other way to start heading back. You didn’t look up from the flier in your hand, your mind and heart still rushing from adrenaline, and before you knew it you had run right into somebody. You bounced off of each other quite aggressively, and instant apologies started spewing from both of your mouths. The boy you had ran into reached out for your arm to balance you. “I’m so sorry,” He said.

“No, no, don’t apologize! I wasn’t paying any attention to where I was going,” You admitted, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. You both chuckled a little bit and looked down at your shoes. He picked at the ends of his long black hair and gave one last apology before walking away. You took a few steps but turned to watch him. He walked up to the wooden telephone pole and scanned the posters taped to it. He definitely was looking for something.

What was happening to you didn’t feel real; everyone you walked past or bumped into you felt like an illusion, even though you could touch them. It was like you were stepping into a movie. How did you get here? Where even were you? It’s like you were in a different dimension - a different chapter with the same setting.

You blinked a few times to get out of your trance and began looking for a new source to get the date. You would look insane if you asked somebody for the year, and Converse boy’s poster didn’t help very much. Slowly spinning around, a newspaper stand a few yards away seemed to glisten. You quickly made your way over, folding up the band flier in quarters as you did. Grabbing The Times off the stack, you read the headline: “D-Day for Europe as Dutch Vote”. You quickly scanned the small writing for any sort of date and by the grace of the Heavens, the year was finally printed before your eyes.

June 2, 1970.

#queen #queen imagine #writing #1970s #1970 writing #1970 fashion #queen fanfiction #bohemian rhapsody #roger taylor #freddie mercury #john deacon #brian may #queen fanfic #freddie mercury imagine #roger taylor imagine #brian may imagine #john deacon imagine

87 notes · View notes

gotatext · 5 years ago

Text

by this point im p sure u all know the drill.... i’m nora, 23, she/her, gmt and tonight matthew im going to be greta o’driscoll, a terrible person but a hot one which frankly makes it almost ok. here is her pinterest..... this intro is literally just copied n pasted frm the last time i played her so soz if u’ve read it like 10+ times....

「 diana silvers. cis-female. 」have you seen greta o’driscoll around yet? i hear she decided to be in POTENTAS for their SOPHOMORE year as a CRIMINAL PSYCHOLOGY major. the 20 year old SHEPHERD is known to be tenacious, magnetic, capricious and evasive. ➨ the muse is written by nora, she/her, gmt.

was adopted as an infant. had two foster moms and two older sisters so always surrounded by women. lived in a boarding house, very much like the one in 20th century women, with lodgers coming in and out all the time, mostly artsy young women because her gay moms were both high school teachers trying to set up their own arts collective. one of her moms left when she was 4, n she doesn’t really remember her.

while living with entirely women made her super into catlin moran and the guilty feminist, as a teenager she often let boys walk all over her bc she just craved male attention jst bcos she’d never really experienced it. saw it as something aspirational, like sitting in the back of chad’s second-hand truck while he drove you to macdonalds and offered you and his five friends with identical haircuts weed was the height of being cool to greta, she wanted to be their dream girl, even if it meant compromising her beliefs

was always a really sporty bitch. it started with a junior athletics squad, which turned into athletics and cheer, which then became athletics, cheer and hockey until she basically was doing a different activity every night. she came to see her body as a tool that she could make work for her if she trained it up and this attitude’s always kind of stayed with her that as long as her body is strong she is capable of anything. runs every day.

bubbly bitch but also massive snake. metaphorically and literally, always shedding her skin. loyal to few, ruled by none, out for herself, babey!! every place she goes, she becomes a new character, someone who’s a figment of her imagination, as if each city is repertory theatre and she’s a character actress, so as a result som ppl think she’s called rita, some ppl know her as margot, she just flicks through identities like nobodies business.

left school at 18 n went backpacking around the states making money in the casinos by being a shot girl (yeehaw) and trying to make it as a mysterious 1920s widow with a smoky voice, a dark secret n a heart of gold, looking for love in the big city. all she found was producers and acting agents who’d promise her stardom n actually just fuck her in a motel n then ignore her calls.

TW domestic violence, TW gun, her watershed moment came when she met luke in sioux falls while she was working at a strip club. he was a few years older and had a car, and they kind of went from seeing each other to being that super intense couple who are just necking all the time.

they got engaged like 3 months after they met n rented a flat together, much to her family’s annoyance but she was 19 so there wasn’t much they could do. their relationship was super super intense though, often really heightened and when they fought it could become quite violent, but she’d pass it off as just him being really passionate.

one of their fights got really heated and greta threatened him with the gun he kept in the glove box of his vauxhall corsa, but the safety was off and she accidentally shot him. she pleaded self defence in the trial n cos of the amount of times she’d been hospitalised for various concussions n things like ‘fallling down the stairs’ the police were like yea… pretty watertight evidence that he was a bastard who [chicago voice] had it coming…..

she’s now under witness protection, rehoused in livingstone as a sports-scholarship student, due to the amount of police involvement in the area, it would mean should one of luke’s family members try to track her down, she’d be relatively safe

massive sports fanatic. plays tennis. on the cheer team. was a track superstar in her high school. honestly just that sporty bitch, you’ll see her doing lines at a party at half four and then on your way to your 9am lecture you see her running across the park like a fresh fucking daisy who is this bitch. maybe it’s maybelline, maybe its coke.

massive feminist. low key quite scared of powerful men bcos of her ex. wants to start a female only lesbian commune bc she misses her childhood in a south dakota boarding house and has endless support for women. honestly annoyed that she is attracted to men, would so be 100% gay if it was a choice. cuffs her jeans and can’t drive. is That bisexual. skateboards. wears backwards caps. i hate her

isn’t a foward-planner, however. greta prefers to leave her options open, play the field, live in a spontaneous manners so her study style is mostly cramming a few days before a test, or staying up all night writing an essay on a massive adrenline boost powered by red bull or probably adderall, scribbling (or typing) furiously into the night.

has an addictive personality. seems unable to do anything in a small dose, she has to let it utterly consume her. with sports, she’s fiercely competitive. with alcohol, it’s never a shot, it’s a whole bottle – wine or whiskey – she’ll be table dancing before the night’s up and making out with someone she’ll regret in the morning.

not afraid to go after what she wants !! ambitious academically and romantically thirsty !! she loves the adrenaline of the chase. when someone’s easy to get, she becomes bored. very bisexual and very proud of it. feminist as fuck nd part of a queer representation in the arts group which holds fortnightly meetings to discuss lgbt representation in film, literature, art etc.

old soul in a young person’s body. all the shit that has gone on has kind of aged her. she’s quite cynical about everything now. always smoking smoking smoking. very edie sedgwick in that way. little girls skirts bought for next-to-nothing at the market because she’s skinny enough to get away with it, barely long enough to cover your bum, and then the ugliest baggy sweater you’ve ever seen thrown over it.

likes old things. old books, old music, old houses, it reminds her of happier times like when she wasn’t alive. buys all her music on vinyl and has a gramphone because “The Sound quality is Better” kfdsjj.

super into pop art and andy warhol. puts female friendships above everything but at the same time, would fuck her best friends man

her clothing style is like…. vintage thrift store but make it preppy. berets and cute hats, neck scarves, large fluffy cardigans or like those leathery jackets with big suede fringes on them, mini skirts (very 70s), and knee high socks or boots. quite often she’ll be in sports kit, maybe a cute tennis skirt, n when she’s feeling casual she’ll wear like, a talking heads tshirt with a pair of mom jeans and converse, but otherwise, the library is her catwalk.

aesthetics:

a bubble of pink gum on chapped lips, mom jeans, a beaten up pair of adidas, denim jackets, strawberry laces, knee-highs, chapped lips, peeling sticky plasters, split knuckles, bruises you try to cover with concealer, stick and poke tattoos, hot coffee, sleep caught in your eyes on a lazy afternoon, kissing girls, cigarette smoke shrouding you like a veil, alien conspiracy theories and sci-fi paperbacks, doc martens with fraying laces, the red string of a thong peaking out purposely from jeans, leonine arch of your back and that stellar smile that says ‘you have no idea who you’re dealing with’, a rucksack permanently packed for the move, a streak of red across your lips, roller blades, cut knees, not eating your greens, smiling with a mouthful of blood, and piercing your own ears with a safety pin when your mom wouldn’t take you, kate moss posters lining the walls of a teenage bedroom, his name scrawled in rage across the pages of a diary, thumb holes poked through the cuffs of your sleeves, a tennis racket you punched through in a fit of temper, feet pounding the earth until your soles bleed crimson, sleeping in a cherry lip balm and scrunchies to keep the wild locks from your eyes.

wanted plots

frinds !! unlikely friends !! toxic friends !! former best friends separated by sports rivalries ! sporting friends who are on other teams but who she absolutely loves playin against!!!

since greta literally can’t differentiate between romantic and platonic love, she’s got off with so many of her mates, so i want awkward friendships where they nearly dated, or exes that have now just turned into weird friendships

girls from the cheer team who she’s like, weirdly intimate with like the shower together but its not a Thing cos the other girls straight !!! what do u mean !! aha just fun !

and I want like, fellow criminology students who are like?? how is this bitch still passing?? i swear she goes out every night??

she works part time at a fast food restaurant, i want a mate that just goes and sits in there talking to her until her manager gets angry.

ppl she did a few modules with ie. art history, bio-med, film studies, before changing course and somehow sort of remaining in touch with

ppl who she runs track with.

someone she’s trying to make a zine with.

here’s a list of plots on her old blog if u want any of them w her.

would love plots of any type, throw them all at me please, i cnt wait to interact w all of u. like this if u want me to message you about connections / plots! xo

full biography if u can be bothered

trigger warnings: drugs, domestic abuse, gun.

you never meant for it to happen. you’d heard the stories, of girls who let their man walk all over them, and thought to yourself “i’ll never be one of those girls…” the kind that eat low-fat yoghurt and drink slim fast to shred a few extra pounds because he said she was getting round in the tummy, or the ones who spent their evenings tied to a kitchen sink drinking wine while him and the boys played poker, wishing god, if only I could get out of here. not you, not you raised by strong women, four bright shining beacons. single mother with her hard-as-nails attitude and her stony glares, elder sisters (twins) one ginger, one blonde, one doctor, one lawyer, both determined to take a bullet to the brain and a hammer to the patriarchy before they let a man touch them without asking. you were always so inferior, so insecure and small, like a bird (like a sparrow) with blonde plaits down your back sucking tropicana whilst your busom buds sucked dick, their lips permanently ripe with stories of their sexual exploits, fake tan and glittered nails whilst you sat in the unbroken egg of virginity wondering what it was like to be loved. one day you found out.

lily milligan’s parents gone and a free house for the night, bottles of ouzo and tequila swiped from your mother’s liquor cabinet thinking she wouldn’t know (she always knew) your legs, hardened from pep squad, slut dropping on a kitchen table because the boys thought it would be fun to get the quiet girl drunk. you’d never had a sip before that night. band t-shirts, denim shorts and the split soles of rotten converse that you refuse to let go of, you still clutched with both hands to your youth, but in a tube top now (borrowed from alice carmichael who had a sister in college) and a short tennis skirt, your feet not in trainers but in thigh-high boots. uncomfy as hell but lily said you needed to look sexy. you didn’t know if you wanted to be sexy. you didn’t know what kind of girl you were, if you were even a girl at all. but robbie looked at you like he knew exactly who you were, like he knew you better than you knew yourself, and his lips had the pink cupid’s bow of a movie star, and his hair was dark locks, curling like a mane. his hands were soft, and suddenly on your waist, and after three more shots his lips were on yours and his name was the only sound in your head and on your lips as you lost it in lily’s college sister’s bedroom beneath the glare of a T-Pain poster. you bled for what seemed like hours, his hand still in yours, kissing on the sofa as truth tellers and dare devils continued to spin a bottle of unprecedented youth. you thought it was love. robbie was the one. he loved you, you knew it, how else could someone be so soft? but soon he grew bored, scrunched up your paper heart and set it alight. then came the tears, the hatred, the ‘fuck robbie, in fact, fuck all boys.’ and that you did.

you were known for being easy. any boy could be yours for a night, as long as he promised to love you for those few short breaths and pants before you cried yourself to sleep. you felt poisoned, but poisonous as well, as if by ensnaring these young boys you were gaining power over them, and not the other way around. soon it started to work. they’d want more, but you’d deny them it, sick of sucking off silly schoolboys, they’d call you a tease, a vixen. maybe you were, but you couldn’t help but want older men. you got the history teacher first time, him bending you over his desk to sneak a hand up your tennis skirt as the after-school clubs carried on next door, unawares. love didn’t exist, not for you. it was nothing but a game for pretty young girls to play, bubble gum in their canines and a hand tugging at the hem of their cheer skirt.

there was so much anger inside of your small body, ‘beware of boys and their hook-like words’. hockey helped. there was something formidable about the feeling of a stick like a weapon in your hands and the thwack it made against thighs in the heat of a scrum - “slipped, sorry!” - you’d utter with a snakeskin smile, millicent quinn knowing that you’d hit her on purpose because she shagged robbie at that party last week. she couldn’t prove it, cobbled acne on her forehead turning green with disgust. ben came into your life like a car crash. two years your senior, with a baseball jacket and shoulders like a god. he became your personal hero. on the pitch, he was lethal. together, you could bring anyone to their ruin. each day after last period he’d be waiting in his car. you’d leap into his arms like a girl-half starved, love me, love me, love me, your heated kisses the envy of every junior girl. he was yours for three blissful years, utterly yours, and you were his, his star-spangled girl, and he was your knight - you were both the same, playing games, always difficult to predict. it was a shock to all when he proposed, high-school sweethearts find love in south dakota.

the engagement was a bittersweet affair; three months – you barely out of your gingham print skirts and into a graduation gown, him, a surly quarterback towering above your sisters, cigarette at his lips and a scowl like a fart in a lift. they hated him. so did you. but you were eighteen and in love, and he fitted the cookie cutter mould. everyone wanted him, and you had him. you had him and you were happy, happy, happy, and he loved you. he said he’d give you the world, anything you wanted hand-picked and given to you. instead, he gave you a jack russell terrier and a flat you couldn’t swing a cat in, wallpaper peeling like the rotten bits inside of you, the bits that only he knew. and you got tireder and tireder of the sad excuse of a life he’d picked out for you, him out doing god knows what to pay the bills, and you dancing on tables to pave your way to stardom, and this was love, this was real, until the shine wore off and your fresh-faced, dimple-cheeked cheerleader facade faded and the ugliness started to reveal itself, the whining, the petulance, the sharp-tempered cruelty, the mind games, the need to always win, win, win. he was dull, he was boring, he was nothing like the boy the girls had said he was and no chiselled six pack could hide his lack of anything remotely interesting, your patience wearing thin until it snapped like rubber, a rucksack on your back, running shoes on your feet and the joint bank account emptied into your eighth grade birthday wallet.

you built your small fortunes working the casinos of sioux falls, a crimson dress and an attitude to match. bookish archie with his little dipper freckles was fun for a month, before he became just as dull and dreary as the rest. a three hour bus and you were in minneapolis, bright eyed and bushy tailed, fresh meat ready for the pickings. a hostel here, a friendly co-worker’s sofa there as you made what you could by taking off your clothes and shaking your ass like you were back in pep squad, doing what you did best. you met your fair share of creeps, and soon it was back on the road to escape a wide-eyed stalker and a restless itch for more. milwaukee, chicago, you made the roads your own. log cabins and lodgings, and the occasional motel, a beaten up pick up truck purchased at a scrap merchants – you got a few miles out of it before it bit the dust, and when you finally set it alight after nights spent lounging across the driver’s seat, a parka tucked over you as a duvet, you were sad to see it go. you’re nomadic by fault, never attaching to place, people or things, creating a new personality in every place you go like a character actress; each town is a different repertory theatre, and you’re the star. a compulsive liar, you even fib about your own name, to some you’re ellen, nineteen, bookish, a law student who likes smoking and cosmos. to someone else you’re rita, you’re twenty five and look young for your age, like smoking, comics and fucking in public places.

in the bright lights of michigan, you found charlie, sweet charlie, too good for you, though you let him spoil you while he thought you were the small town girl of his dreams. next came abigail, who was fun until the jealously kicked in, and then luke, gorgeous luke, dangerous, exciting, who despite his temper, despite the fights, despite bruises down your spine and your teeth marks on his arms, loved you with the strength of a wild fire. there was destruction in your wishbones, a savageness from the field, from the pitch and now somehow in his arms, you were godly. he was cruel, he was careless, and he refused to fall at your feet like so many other boys had, which only you made you want him all the more. you were rage incarnate. you hated him so fiercely you thought you might kill him, so he played the only card you wouldn’t predict; proposed.

the house you shared was a backstreet flat in detroit, you making your name as a downtown singer while he footed the bill with pills. they had a drug for anything these days, to dull the senses, to pick them up, to drive you to insanity or pull you out of the madness hole. the two of you lived like criminals on the run (you never told him that you were, living out your days as the enigma he wanted you to be), you with your voice like caramel and fishnet legs. you were his and his alone until his hand was at your throat and the gun was in your hands screaming at him to stop, stop, stop, until a bullet stoppered his brain, crimson staining linoleum as you cast yourself out like lucifer. self defence was decreed the moment they saw your violet neck, black tears and headlight eyes and mind screaming red, red, red like the pom-poms you shook so willingly in school and the insides of his skull. you were gone, and “you” was born, renamed “greta”, boxed, shipped-out, and next-day delivered to livingstone where under witness protection you were a student, blank slate, fresh-faced in a place where no one knew your name, doing what you always did and starting again.

#this is soooOoOOO fuckin long cos every time i play greta i add more shit to it..... her seventh form will just be an entire fuckin novel.#anyway call me beep me if u wanna reach me #aka pls msg me either here or on discord. my discord is linday lohan's meth8664 #wshedintro

8 notes · View notes

rowanartist · 5 years ago

Text

Fan fiction quotes 2019:

"with great foods, came great emotional baggage"[X]extra funny since I just saw Into the Spiderverse

"Just get together every couple of weeks, without Stark, and you guys can pass Steve around like a bong."[ch2]whaat? And chapter three is a dirty parody - worth a read for the humor of it

"he just hopes Tony has the sense God gave concussed baby sheep "[X]interesting phrase

"“Science,” Jane says, drawing his face to hers, “Does not require pants "[X]fun series of short fics

"Never something so hot; not like a flame is hot, but the strength of something bathed in summer sun. "[X]interesting view on attraction

"(He'd been sketching when he thought that through; now there's a page that has a little cartoon of himself, ducking, with the caption "the spoons are attacking!" although he'd ended up finishing his latte before he actually drew any flying spoons.) "[X]Steve upon learning about spoon theory

"Can you think of anything that symbolizes the eighties better than David Bowie’s crotch in tights? "[X]giggle out loud! "You drink once if someone whines, if Sarah says something isn’t fair, or if we get a shot of Bowie’s crotch. "[Same]comment

"“Like you’re going to vibrate out of your skin?” Natasha finished for him, understanding. Sometimes, after what they’d been through, it was hard just to be in your body. Easier to dissociate, to let whatever was going to happen happen while the part of you that was you floated far away. Natasha had been there before, and she knew James went there sometimes. "[X]ponder?

"They’re each wrapped up in their own blanket burrito, lying side by side in the dark, sharing one pillow. "[X]dual blanket burritos

"For most of his life he learned the safest option was to repress his emotional responses as much as possible, and over time he forgot how to access them when he actually needed to. "[X]relatable to a small degree

"Nothing too special but I’m pretty much Michael Bay’s wet dream "[X]to describe bakugo lol

"Most people," Midoriya continued gently, "don't need to be told they have a crush by the person that they have the crush on."[X]my boyfriend can relate to Midoriya here...

"about how if Midoriya could go this long talking without breathing in any new air, he'd probably be really good at kissing. "[same]lol

"God, fuck off. You look so freshly screwed that it hurts me. "[X]Bakugo ;p

"After all, shodō is one of Shouto’s hobbies. For Midoriya’s birthday last year, he made a beautiful poster of UA’s motto that is now displayed prominently above Midoriya’s bed. "[X]draw? If i can? "Please don’t use your All Might voice when we’re making plans to have sex. "[Same]lol

"He’d known for a while that his boyfriend internalizes, that he still struggles with a lot of insecurities and periodic depression from his years around his dad "[X]comment

"Shouto you’re worth more than anything. And you deserve happiness. I don’t care what micro-dick has said to you in the past or any shit he spews out of the mouth that’s somehow more obnoxious than Present Mic "[same]dam it Endeavor :/ "You’re a dork,” Izuku mutters in a break for breath. “Your dork,” Shouto says quietly "[Same]awww

"But if you ever forget your phone again I will use you as an advertisement balloon for a day, and that’s a promise."[X]lol

"First of all, I challenge you to find a dress that can fit that shoulders to waist ratio.” Shouto replied, matter-of-factly, pointing at Izuku’s entire body. “Secondly, you absolutely lack the manners to be a princess, you brute.” "[X]part of a series

"Another young woman that couldn’t be older than Shouto and Izuku looked up at the call. She had a round face and long, brown hair with little orange streaks every now and then collected in a braid. The red rimmed glasses she wore made her yellow eyes look bigger, behind the lenses. She lit up, when she saw them. "[X]need to try to draw

"You’d die of embarrassment— Either that, or Aizawa-sensei would kill you. And I kind of like you alive, thank you very much.” "[same]LOL

" is standing there in grey sweats and a loose Totoro hoodie he got him on one of their first dates "[X]draw

"It definitely didn’t help that Izuku stretched lazily, something akin to a cat just waking up from a nap, one of his legs stretching against the wall as the opposite arm reached towards Shouto with fingers spread wide-open. "[X]DRAW!

"What? They’re really short, all my boxers showed and it was weird. "[X]...

"Just because he isn’t as obvious about it, doesn’t mean Shouto isn’t beyond anxious too. "[X]comment

"He doesn’t treat Shouto like he is fragile, but he treats him like he is precious, and that is an important distinction"...."Something precious, however, doesn’t necessarily break easy, but it warrants the utmost care. It’s meant to be cherished. "[X]relationship advice

"One of the national dishes has no meat in it, but it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever tasted. I thought we were all going to die and T’Challa was going to succeed in eliminating us. Then I heard him yelling at the chef, saying none of us were used to Wakandan peppers.” "[X]https://archiveofourown.org/works/8688724/chapters/19918951#workskin

"All Tony was supposed to do was fix the alternator. Instead he built me a Jeep that tells me I have to initiate a proper launch sequence before I’m able to turn it on and drive.” "[Same]comment

"I’m sorry,” Midoriya retracts his hand, and Todoroki misses it instantly. “It’s not something I can fix, and that makes me sad. You don’t deserve to hear the things he tells you.” "[X]reread comment. Relatable to a degree personally

"But he has to admit the Docs greener side is awfully useful in a brawl; and his less menacing side has a wicked sense of humor, not to mention awfully good with a med kit. "[X]i like Bruce having a sense of humor

"That's what friends are for anyway, having your back when times are tough, and amusement for when times are peaceful. "[X]amusing

"Bucky didn't think he was being rude, but if Captain America said so, it must be true. "[Same]comment

"Steve’s always been a fan of cuddles, even if he doesn’t like to admit it, admit how much he needs that physical contact. "[X]I'm a fan of this concept

"Which in Steve-speak means that you’re feeling guilty as all hell over things you can’t control – again, mind you – and you can’t rest because you can’t shut your brain up.” "[Same]relate "There’s power in this act, Darcy thinks as she sucks and licks up and down his length. To be able to take someone apart with just her mouth and a few touches of her hands. Reduce them to tears or send them flying upwards into the heavens. And the knowledge that she wants to do this for him – for them – makes the feeling all the more potent. She doesn’t have to do this, but it’s her choice, and she wants to give this to them. "[Same]ponder more

"She may not come from it, but the closeness and the intimacy is far more important than any orgasm. "[X]remember

"He knows better, knows that Bakugou’s punches of greeting and movie nights at Yaoyorozu’s house with Mina, Hagakure, and Tsu, and that baking with Izuku are all love. That’s love, not the villain sat behind the desk. "[X]dark fic, author warns in notes. But this line is sweet

"Natasha Romanoff is a world-class spy, yes. But she’s also a potato chip thief who makes dumb jokes and uses emoticons (she had been very adamant that Steve learn the difference between emoticons and emojis), and Steve adores her for it. "[ch5]she's human

"Bucky flopped onto it rolling around like a dog on the soft surface, Natasha quietly responding by taking out her phone and videoing his nonsense. "[ch2]Mr. Kate style rug cuddle but solo

"“First of all, just because someone is good looking does not mean I should have sex with them. There are attractive serial killers Nat, do you want me to get murdered? Second of all, I don’t know him. Third of all, he’s not looking at me like I’m chicken wings, also Clint, seriously? Chicken wings?” "[same]lol, but I'm with you Bucky

"Even in just plain sweatpants, the American icon without a shirt was an image that would have anyone seeing stars and stripes, regardless of sexual orientation. "[X]:)

"Agent Bishop was hit with a biological weapon today that has a ninety-two per cent chance of ending in fatality within three days unless proper care is administered to disperse the chemical compound through natural methods. Meaning, in the case of humans, sexual release. As in, orgasming."[X]a legalese description of "sex pollen" ...

"Do the horizontal contra dance, yes," Darcy answered. "Well kind of, I mean there's only three of us and a contra dance is four to a group, but tango is just for two and I had to think of something fast. Come on, Stevie, this isn't the first time we've hooked up. "[X]lol

"He wanted something just for him again, even though he felt like a selfish asshole for even thinking it. So he would do whatever he could to chase after that feeling. Even if it was stupid. Even if it was silly. "[ch2]advice, remember "Tony must never read these, Steve thought. Bucky’s arm would never be safe. "[ch3]Steve Discovers FanFiction "Steve stayed focused on the screen, sticking out his tongue a little while he concentrated. It was unfairly adorable. "[ch4]Jarvis knows how to motivate Steve: a Bucky themed typing game "Good things would happen. Funny, clever jokes would be told. Sexy adventures were always available, no matter what was happening in the real world. "[X]relatable "There was even a page of ‘Bucky Approved Sex Words and Phrases’. The name alone never failed to make Steve smile "[ch7]lol "He wasn’t really writing this stuff for the money anyways; mostly he just wanted to see that other people liked and enjoyed what he was doing. "[Same]relatable: my redbubble rowan-artist

"Darcy’s eyes widened. “Oh god, I just imagined you naked, dusted in gold, on a satin-sheeted bed. My mind is a dangerous place.” “Hey, there’s always Halloween.” "[ch6]you being Steve

"Jane was rapidly nearing the angry-bear stage of sleep deprivation (there were seven levels on the Dr. Jane Foster Sleep Deprivation chart; angry bear was number five, between 'genius-level insane productivity' and 'sugar high five-year old'), "[X]also Dean Fury ... "Then you come to me, we'll kill a bottle of Jameson and make Thor carry our drunk asses home while we sing Les Mis horribly off-key," "[same]amusing

"This is why you should always read end-user agreements on friendships. "[X]not the fic but the start notes, lol. Also, Maria's entry is adorable, and Pepper potts!! "(“So what you’re telling me is you spent a week building a glorified roomba,” Rhodey says the first time he sees it, and Tony lets out an undignified huff and makes JUNK-E destroy and clean a grand piano.) "[Same]hahha

"And it’s better to be an asset, which at least sounds like something you value, than a glorified action figure. "[ch3]comment "Steve’s friendship is stronger than even Steve’s shield, and protects them both just as much "[Same ch9]awww

"Bucky actually is, but she knows well enough not to ask. Instead, she has started braiding flowers into Natasha's hair while the other girl of the group is busy making a flower crown for Thor. This is what it must be like to have real friends, Bucky thinks, lounging in his camping chair, trying to eat with one hand while Steve is holding his arm, drawing on the inside of his forearm with a black pen. "[ch2]flower crowns "I heard a lot of things I kind of projected on myself. It's probably stupid, but… it's always crazy to hear things that apply to oneself somehow." "It's the magic of music. Sam once told me about the Mr. Brightside effect–" "[ch4]yes "Bruce is on his own so much that he probably doesn't even notice that he has friends "[ch5]relatable, high school me

"The most beautiful thing however was the wall right next to the bed-- while all the other walls were the same off-white color, this one sported stripes of different colors down. Blue, red, green, purple, black, another shade of lighter blue. In the middle of these stripes, the Avenger signs were painted by a meticulous hand; Cap’s shield, Tony’s arc reactor, Mew Mew, and so on-- Darcy didn’t notice she was crying into Mara started wailing in solidarity "[ch1]draw?

"He knows it, like Steve and Bucky know that Tony needs praises and affection, not commands. "[ch8]...

"She thanked Sif (a habit she had started lately, thanking the Asgardian warrior instead of some non-present God, because really, if there was a god she wanted to follow, it would totally be Sif) "[X]nice Darcy "Even if she wasn’t an Avenger per say, she got to be on the team, both super and nonsuper alike. "[ch2]awww

"Elizabeth is going to make coffee happen, and in Darcy’s eyes that makes her a goddess. "[X]comment "By the end, Steve had been right in the thick of it, using a frypan as a shield and hurling pasta like nobody’s business. "[same]comment "Agent Hill’s bad ass levels are through the roof, but put her in front of a powerpoint and the result is coma-inducing. "[Ch3]lol "JARVIS, my man, I need some fat beats up in here. Help a sister out?” "[ch3]comment

"She knew now that it was almost certainly to do with her personal level of comfort and how hard both Steve and Barnes had worked to make her feel good. "[middle chapter]comment

"A video clip of the Asgardian scientist Tadeas and Neil Degrasse Tyson singing a scientific ballad of their own composition was one of the most viewed Youtube videos of all time "[X]lol "He grabbed [a muffin] and shoved it into his mouth, belatedly peeling the paper off. "[Same]haha! :D "Darcy put a box of Sour Patch Kids on top, “Those are for Heimdall.” "[X]comment "“No. Damnit, Darcy. You’re stubborn. Of course you’re stubborn! Jesus Christ, I can’t even imagine what it must like to be in the same room as the two of you.” "[X]best friend sass "But Clint is a human with a bow on a team of superheroes. "[X]Darcy's favorite avenger and why Ch4 music note "Apparently Thor is back on Earth. He showed up in New York right after we left and basically deafened all of Brooklyn with his displeased shouting about his missing Shield Sister. So now everyone knows I’m gone and my disappearance is trending on Twitter as #MissingAsgardianPrincess. How is this my life?! I can’t even with this shit.” "[X]mild spoiler? HAHAHA "Try having a conversation with one of them [asgardians]-- 4 to 1 odds it turns into some sort of ballad recitation. "[X]...

"The next day, Izuku Midoriya delivered his eleven page elaborate essay on how ordering sex toys inspired him to be more honest with himself and his boyfriend about what he wanted in life and in bed. "[X]lol

"“Fire for stop, ice for slow, and smash for go.” "[X]comment

#fan fiction #fic rec #2019

1 note · View note

karmanticmoved · 5 years ago

Note

1-85 uwu

j esus okay

1. describe yourself.

uh,, emotional ig, dumbass, quiet, exhausted all of the time, v queer, healthy mix of feminine and masculine, insecure, and not tha t great tbh. kinda a pussy ass b itch

2. if you could go anywhere for a week all expenses paid where would it be?

idrk. maybe somewhere like a hella nice beach in another country, maybe somewhere in europe. i like travelling but i hate the travel to get there and have no money so i havent put thought into it. maybe hawaii or somewhere like that.

3. do you have siblings?

the one thats still alive is my half brother

4. what is your favorite constellation, why?

orion maybe bc i don't know a lot but i can see that one from my bedroom window even in the city n idk. its comforting. or scorpius cause i'm a scorpio

5. favorite color.

yellow, pink, or blue.

6. what kind of music do you listen to?

almost anything. whatever catches my interest.

7. favorite flower. (you can name as many as you want cause flowers are awesome)

forgot what i said last time but those

yellow carnations i think?

8. if you could do magic, what is the first spell you would learn?

maybe smth to put myself to sleep immediately bc f uCk

9. favorite childhood memory.

my summer camp memories are pretty great. also memories of my dad and i going fishing are good.

10. have you ever been cheated on?

i mean in theory i couldve been bc online relationships but no. n im polyam and have identified as such for a majority of my relationships so no.

11. if you could describe your perfect room, what would it be?

big but not too big, yknow? like big enough that it can be filled and have room to walk around and lay on the ground or whatever but not Empty. and a pretty big bed to stretch out on, n a closet in the room. multiple windows w blackout curtains so theres light but it can be blocked out. n fluffy rugs or carpeting but preferably rugs in case smth spills so we can get it out of at least Remove the rug. and probably a cat tree thing in corner for dipper. n a computer desk and actual lights that light up the whole room. but probably,, fairy lights too bc full lights too bright. and i kinda want a pink room but blue or yellow work also. a nd pride flags on the walls + posters and various other stuff bc plain walls are boring. and tons n tons of b ooks too.

12. favorite animal.

river otter

13. what was the last photo you took of?

cat

14. do you believe in soul mates?

i'm not sure. i do kinda think there are people who you will like. really really click with and who become so important in your life that they're like. apart of u yknow? but i don't think that anyone as an individual needs to keep those people in their life forever. they arent destined to stay with them, and they shouldnt force that relationship (platonic, familial, romantic, or whatever) even if they were close for years and years. screw destiny. youll have people you care about, and sometimes you have to break that bond to save yourself, and thats okay. there will be other people who can and will be just as important. that got kinda off topic skbsks. i don't think theres really like Destiny soulmates. but there could be like. soulmates in the sense of for however long we're together, we're soul bonded. even if its not forever. does that even make se nse skbsns

15. do you hang toilet paper over or under?

over is the one thats socially acceptable right

16. your go to place to eat & your favorite thing to get there.

idk theres a place near a movie theater closeish to my house and its a nice little cafe and i dont eat there bc i dont eat much in general but i get their bubble tea and i love. raspberry bubble tea w rose popping bubbles. its comfort drink.

17. do you believe everything happens for a reason?

no. sometimes shit happens for no reason, and its bullshit, but you can't reverse it, so you gotta figure out how to move on from it.

18. guilty pressures?

im assuming thats meant to be pleasures

umm,, idrk. i don't know what exactly i like that would count as a guilty pleasure so,,

19. favorite mythical creature, why?

merpeople are s o cool i fuckin. love funky aquatic pals hell yeah. maybe im just Water babey but. they're rad. dragons are also hella cool bc like dragons???? theyre scaly and prett y and can breathe fire or have wings and kill u?? also like selkies bc again. water. but i used to hear a lot of stories abt them and theyre so nea t

20. something most people don’t know about you.

i have the potential to be a huge asshole and also kinda Wish to fuckin murder someone sometimes but. i act nice most of the time anyway.

not murder murder but i can get angr y enough that i just wanna Stab smth

21. where did you grow up, what was it like?

grew up kinda near the edge of the city, still in it but not like the main city area. in western washington. it was kinda rly boring, i used to spend a lot more time outside or just by myself playing with leaves or toys or whatever. when i had friends i played make believe w them even when outside of school. so yeah. boring id say.

22. do you believe aliens exist?

sure.

23. what was your last google search?

other than names for some actors n stuff, i was looking up various star wars things

24. what did your last relationship teach you?

the one that like. ended? i guess thatd be. be careful with your own feelings and try to figure them out before jumping into anything, and also don't try to force smth that in reality isnt really working.

25. would you relocate for love?

honestly yeah

26. do you hold grudges or forgive easy?

both. it just depends on how badly i or someone i care about was hurt by it. more likely to hold a grudge if a friend was hurt by someone d eep enough to leave a lasting impact or if they don't get a genuine apology i will be 🔫🔫. or if the person keeps hurting them. even if that person is also my friend.

27. favorite book.

favorite graphic novel is bloom by kevin panetta

favorite books in general are autoboyography, more happy than not, and what if its us. all gay. i know. its okay. im a kinnie.

28. do you consider yourself an extrovert or introvert?

introvert by far

29. have you ever kept a journal, do you now?

i tried once. i probably will have to once i go see a therapist, or at least one for my Bad Thoughts

30. top 5 favorite movies.

in no particular order

little shop of horrors, love simon, coco, it (2017 and 1990), and shazam! ig? maybe others but i definitely Forgot all the shit ive watched

31. do you believe that everything happens for a reason?

32. what is your greatest fear?

definitely gotta be all of the people i love hating me and abandoning me or secretly hating me and then leaving me without saying anything. and the worst part is im always afraid its gonna happen babeyy

33. favorite alcoholic beverage.

im baby

34. most embarrassing thing you’ve done.

im embarrassed by my own existence. i don't remember the Most embarrassing thing

35. do you believe in ghosts?

not until i have proof that i can actually trust and believe in

36. what is the best and worst part of your personality?

idk ig im nice. but im also. very easily set off on certain emotions especially the bad ones which sucks like especially jealousy bc i dont wanna!! feel jealous!! tho i think that ties into my greatest fear bc my brain immediately tells me im useless to everyone and they hate me. but. sometimes i get jealous and then feel bad for that and then hate myself for all of it. bc my friends deserve to hang out w other people and care about other people im just fucking stupid babey !!

37. should you split the dinner bill?

i rly don't get why you wouldnt tbh like if u both wanna be there u should both pay. but if one person gonna pay it should be the person that asked.

38. are you a good liar?

most of the time. when it comes to my mental health i can either lie great or im literally breaking down in front of the person so

39. what keeps you up at night?

depressing thoughts. anxiety about everything. wishing i could cuddle and fall asleep w jay. sometimes i just cant sleep bc im too restless.

40. would you rather go without your phone or music?

music. i need my phone to text my friends and i Need my friends

41. do you believe in god?

what god would let the world get to the point its at. what god would allow people to do such fucked up shit.

no. i don't.

42. how do you relax when frustrated?

cry, take a nap, take a shower, listen to music, cuddle dipper

43. what’s something that offends you?

when people go "oh yeah i support gay rights but im still gonna eat at chick fil a bc its good" like i get so fucking. pissed off by that. youre not gonna fucking s ta rv e without their goddamn chicken. i know a bi person who goes there and says its okay bc they dont Directly Give Their money to Specifically anti gay organisations but im just. ugh. fucking pissed bc there are other places to get food just avoid the one place for fucks sake. their food is good it doesnt matter. its like saying yeah pewdiepie is a bad person and nazi and a racist asshole but his videos r funni haha so im gonna watch him anyway

44. favorite food

i hate myself whenever i eat food

45. if you were on a 10 hour flight and could sit and talk to any person the entire time, who would it be?

@destinedformuchmore or @pinaplelee

46. when do you feel the most confident?

never? but ig i feel confident when working on tech construction during theater tech. as long as i know what im doing.

47. what do you do in your free time?

sleep. draw. cry. play video games. talk to my friends.

48. is there anyone who has completely lost your respect

matpat did for being a dick abt neopronouns and making a transphobic joke and only apologizing when a cis person told him to. not when hundreds of trans people did. and also other jokes that are inherently offensive to various groups. a n d for making extremely not Child friendly jokes in his videos which are very much targeted towards kids. say what you will about the target audience, there are a lot of children who watch them. please stop making creepy nsfw jokes if you won't even swear, sir.

49. have you ever broken someone’s heart?

i guess so yeah. but she also broke mine first.

50. did/do you play sports in school?

i did. i don't anymore bc highschool sports are bullshit but. basketball, ultimate, and soccer.

51. when are you happiest?

talkin 2 jay prolly

52. coffee or tea?

tea

53. what is one possession you own you wouldn’t want to live without?

my binder. or my stuffed cat puppet thing ive had since i was 7

54. what is the first thing you notice about a person?

their general emotions, mostly. like if theyre in a good mood or if theyre bored or distracted or whatever. or if they seem interested in actually talking to me

55. what is your favorite season, why?

fall. my birthday, the atmosphere is nice, it's pretty, its hoodie weather.

56. what makes you laugh?

stupid little comments or jokes my friends make tend to make me laugh a lot harder than i should but jabdn

57. are you a clean or messy person?

a mix. i Cannot have some things messy or i will ksjqkd. Die but i don't make my bed too often bc its ha rd when its against 3 walls.

58. what is important for a successful relationship?

communication communication communicati

talk about ur goddamn problems n keep talking to each other.

59. what was your upcoming like?

if thats supposed to be upbringing

idk, very relaxed. pretty easygoing and kinda boring.

60. favorite holiday?

any holiday in december rly. i don't celebrate a Lot but the atmosphere and others celebrating is nice to see. i kinda wish my parents did more to embrace the jewish part in our family blike. whatever. christmas is fun.

61. what is the first thing you’d do if you won the lottery?

give half of it to my parents. and then probably use it for plane ticket

62. what’s the best pizza topping combination?

hawaiian pizza. pinapple n canadian bacon ty

63. favorite outdoor activity.

frisbee

64. how are you? honestly.

not great. i want highschool to end.

65. would you rather go camping in the woods or stay at a beach resort?

idk. camping is fun but if i get to stay at the resort for free i would rly love 2 stay at a resort tbh ive never done that

66. what is the most beautiful thing in nature?

waterfalls. or rivers or just. water in nature. and very green forests. aNd snow.

67. favorite type of candy?

none

68. if your life was a book, what would be the title?

i can and will do arson, an autobiography

69. what movie quotes do you use of a regular bases?

i quote john mulaney and whatever my obsessions are pretty regularly

70. what was cool when you were young but not cool now?

silly bandz. pokemon cards. these weird unicorn figures i collected

71. what’s the craziest conversation you have ever eves dropped on?

im mostly the one having the weird conversations

72. what’s the most interesting documentary you’ve ever watched?

i watched one about dogs and cats and their evolution which was lit

73. what’s the worst hairstyle you’ve had?

when i let the lady just go fuckin ham on my hair bc i was watching spirit that horse movie and didnt wanna stop so it was. rly bad bangs and hella short in back but not the sides

74. what do you like to cook?

whatever im hungry for. i don't have the energy to cook a lot

75. what’s the coolest animal you’ve seen in the wild?

really pretty tropical fish

76. what’s the funniest tv show you’ve ever seen?

idk. i rly like schitts creek its pretty amusing

77. do you usually follow your heart or your head?

heart at first but my head if things get bad

78. what is your favorite quote?

"i have a splitting headache and i think i'm dying. how are you?"

or a character just saying "try harder" when another failed to do smth.

this is supposed to be deep or whatever but im in a Mood

79. what’s the weirdest crush you have ever had?

once had a crush on a character in a minecraft parody lmao

80. what’s your love language?

sending shit that makes me think of them. n just. making tons of stuff for them both online and irl like bracelets.

81. do you ever feel alone?

oh yeah. all the time. im not but it feels like i am which sucks

82. ever been bullied?

yeah

83. are you usually early or late?

late bc of my parents rip

84. what kind of art do you enjoy most?

drawing, or writing. also theater.

85. what do you wish you knew more about?

i just wish i could remember everything ive learned more about. i know a lot i just forget all.

id like to know more about forensics tho

#asks #long post #friends

2 notes · View notes

like-rain-or-confetti · 7 years ago

Text

Request: And then i was gone part 2 (Alec Volturi x Reader)

As Alec and Jane left your house, they never saw you leaning on a nearby tree. You tilted your head. "Huh? You're supposed to keep going right? Isn't that how life works? I don't think you go back...it is hard to remember though..." You were deep in thought. Your mother's words came back to you. "This world is no place for dreamers, it will simply pass you by." Apparently she wasn't wrong. You didn't know how long it has been. Your grandfather had died not long after you went away. You didn't know until you saw the funeral invite...next to yours. You were oddly glad that they held a funeral for you. It was like they were really saying goodbye to you. Even if you knew it to be a fact that your mother knew with every fibre of her being you were still out there. She had to, she wouldn't be able to live otherwise. You didn't feel the way you should have about their grief. You knew you should have felt some kind of guilt for putting them through so much pain. You should have felt guilty as you watched your mother cry at the kitchen table but you didn't. Not necessarily in an insensitive way, but you felt far away from them, far from the world, from the whole of reality. You were a drifter as you'd describe it. You would come and go, a footprint in the sand. You saw the world differently, from outside the box. Everything in the world seemed so miniscule.

Alec was unfortunately in the same category. He had forever to wait for you. You weren't in any rush. The sun broke through the clouds seeping through the cracks of the trees behind you. You turned, and smiled at the sun beaming back at you. It wasnt summer, infact is was the early days of winter so it was very cold. You had your hat and gloves on as well as a coat. You exhaled, you could see your own breath.

Alec felt the urge to turn around, as though there was someone watching him. He turned around looking at the trees to find no one. It was odd, it wasn't often he felt like that for no reason. He turned back and continued walking.

He was back at the house the next day. This time, he'd be looking for more about you in the rooms. He'd silently thanked your mother who kept a diary as you grew up. There was only one and judging by the dates, she wasn't a frequent updater, majority of entries were months apart with the occasional yearly gaps. It was all the same,your mother had worries for that your father brushed off. What your mother considered as distant, your father considered to be independence. If you were happy in your own little dream world then he was happy. A part of him thought that perhaps your mother was right. Your family was a big one and all had their own kind of character. Your grandfather, the man who have his life for his country, a family man but ironically the stress of losing a grandchild, the possibility of outliving his grandchild, was most likely what killed him, not any political war. It showed his priorities, no matter what his profession his heart and soul was with his family.

Your mother was ambitious, but she didn't get very high up in the business so she countered that with being hardworking, a reliable colleague. She cared a lot, which often made it difficult for her to enjoy herself. Your father reminded her to enjoy the moments she had with her family. He was a goofball so he made sure he had fun for the both of them.

"I'll come back to you." You assured him. "One day...when the time is right." Alec spun around to find no one there.

"what's that look?" Jane asked.

"Their mother was right. They were independent. So was their father, they were a dreamer but neither of them really got the full picture."

"what do you mean?"

"There is a chance that (Y/N) is alive." He said taking a seat next to his sister, linking their fingers. "I can't say it's big or small, but it's there. It's like a conspiracy theory. The assumption is that they are dead because because there is no sign of them and that they are missing but what if that little flip book in their room was a clue."

"Alec that's... borderline imagination. We can't determine that gifts could ever be so... complicated. That's more than a physical gift."

"Jane, one of the Egyptian coven can control the elements."

"That's not the same." Jane shook her head. "That's within this world, that gift is more than just travelling it's disappearing from existence with no trace left behind. How likely does that sound to you?"

"I know, I know how it sounds but I hate that I can't determine that conspiracy. Anyway, they were distant to their family, assuming independence. So maybe that's they key to it all, Jane, what if they're out there and they don't need anybody. They've simply carried on. Perhaps they knew I would eventually look for them and maybe they're okay with me not knowing. It's kind of funny, because when I think of it, I'm okay not knowing too."

Something itched at Alec to return to your house. He couldn't shake the feeling and so he did, once more. Everything was the same, the sun peering through the thin lace drapes with missing posters scattered.

"I don't know if you'll ever find this let alone when, but you're smart and a part of me thinks you will.

Don't worry about me. I will come to you one day, when the time is right. You have a life, somewhere I don't belong. If you ever need closure...the house is here."

Alec didn't know if you wrote the note, or who it was to. It had been there for a while.

He didn't know what to think, he felt like the house gave him more questions than answers- like you gave him more questions than answers. Alec had been around for a long time. He has watched centuries of the human race go by. He knew the fact that some humans disappear, never to be seen again. It was difficult to think his mate was one of those people but it just seemed more and more likely. His mind rushed back to the flip-book. The tiny animation of you, happy as ever as you drew a door, stepped through and that was that.

Your grandmother believed that tiny book to be the explanation of your disappearance. She believed you gave them the answers but no one else in the family did. They all brushed her off. She had left this information in the many letters she wrote to her husband, no replies were ever found.

Sure it was cloudy but when a thunder storm was not suspected. Alec gazed out of the kitchen window, watching the rain pour down onto the driveway and the road outside the house. Alec gasped when you were suddenly in the middle of the road. You took a few steps before a crash was heard as a bolt of lightning zapped down connecting to you and the ground. A few seconds later, the bolt was gone but so were you, once again, without a trace. Perhaps Alec imagined it.

150 years later... Alec gazed out his window. Alec never returned to the house, he felt content despite not having any answers as to if you were alive or dead. He had seen you around three times but they were only glimpses. Today was a little different, he couldn’t help but smile as he saw you sitting in front of a tree sketching, you looked up from your sketch pad and smiled back at him. You pressed your fingers to your lips kissing them and and blew towards him. He nodded slightly and blinked and then you were gone.

#request #and then i was gone #part 2 #one shot #reader #volturi #alec volturi

59 notes · View notes

thclcstgirl · 7 years ago

Text

So I’m just going to let loose with some potentially unpopular opinions about our deteriorating rpc and what I- both personally and based on talking with others- think is our problem, which of course is us.

Story time, when I first started writing roleplay online the people I met used this as a hobby, a break from life, a way to enjoy characters outside of media. Was there discourse? Sure, occasionally. But they didn’t put much stock in this because it was a hobby and they didn’t have to care about these random online presences they met through writing, they just had to enjoy the writing. And they were so much happier than we are now, guys.

The tumblr community seems to operate under the exact opposite of that theory. People use this as a validation for when life isn’t going smoothly. Which alone is a whole other can of worms because tumblr is that kind of toxic that pretends it’s progressive but really it’s just toxic.

The tumblr rpc takes characters/the show plot way too seriously (I say fully aware of my intense love of Bellamy Blake and my subsequent dislike of t100 s5) but there seems to be a trend of letting this affect you on and offline, and affect those around you. You can’t stand seeing this Thing, it makes you sad/upest/angry/ick/ect. But instead of blacklisting or tublrsavior’ing your way away from it, you don’t want to because some of your friends talk about it and it feels “rude” and you end up feeling disgusted on your own dash. It’s not rude to not talk about shit that annoys you. This is a hobby. You shouldn’t feel annoyed doing your hobby.

On that note, no one treats this like a hobby anymore. They treat it like a job, a popularity contest, an all-inclusive-or-you’re-a-giant-bag-of-dicks kind of thing. You can’t just write what you like, or what you’re feeling, because then you’re labeled “elitist”. You can’t just write with your friends for the same reason. You HAVE to write with everyone who wants to write with you or you’re labeled “unfriendly” or “bitchy”. You HAVE to respond to threads in a timely manner or you’re accused of “ignoring” people or “forgetting” them which seem to be equal insults whether or not it’s true. You HAVE to be nice and friendly and peppy all the time or you’re labeled “mean” or again, “bitchy”.

Now, best case scenario if any of the above happens, you get a few bratty people or a few bratty anons and life goes on. Worst case scenario the guilt tripping and the vague posting starts, and once it starts it rarely ends. People put so much importance in being important to online presences on tumblr, and when they feel wronged/upset/ignored/invalidated/ect the ooc posts start up, designed to entice sympathy but really just making people uneasy and uncomfortable because these posts are directed at them as though they’ve done something wrong to make someone feel this way, but it’s almost never about them, it’s about the poster.

You’re not allowed to like certain things. You’re not allowed to dislike certain things. You’re not allowed to say this, or that, because it’s offensive. And I’m not talking ‘you can’t make a racist joke’ I’m talking ‘you can’t dislike this character over a personality because they’re a poc and that makes you racist’. That’s what tumbr is guys. It is the extreme leftist, where everything you say is potentially offensive and you’re surrounded by literally millions of people with the protective cover of internet anonymity who are just waiting to crucify the next person for the next perceived slight.

As though there haven’t been enough rules, there’s the rules about following/writing with people. You can’t unfollow people, at least not without A. having to explain yourself to them or B. inspiring a string of guilty-trip/sympathy posts painting you as the bad guy who made this person feel so shitty about their life and themselves. You can’t just not want to write with a certain character, because that’s reflective of your feelings about the mun apparently. You can’t just not see yourself writing against a style, because that’s reflective of your feelings about the mun apparently. If you DO end up writing because you don’t want to be painted as an asshole, you can’t stop writing, because then it’s indicative that the mun has somehow offended you and angered you. You can’t ask to change shit in a thread because then you’re saying the mun can’t write right. And the breaking of any of these rules end up in vague, guilt-trippy posts that “aren’t about you” but we all know they are, even if we can’t prove it because they were deliberately vague. And a lot of these guilt-trippy posts are tagged with ‘delete later’ ‘idk why i’m saying this’ ‘it doesn’t even matter idk why I’m upset’ ‘i dont’ want to talk about it’ but like, those are clear lies because why make the post in the first place then? You want the attention, you just don’t want to explain why you made a post rather than spoke to someone directly. Which I mean, we all want attention that’s why we write on a public forum. Just own up to it.

Even the supposedly simple concept of friendships isn’t exempt from being poisoned by the tumblr mindset. You can’t just have internet friends anymore. And that’s largely because of what I outlined earlier about this not being treated as a hobby and people putting their self-worth into the internet ( again, extremely unhealthy please for all that is good go outside, make in-person friends, find a different hobby, love yourself bc the internet will not ). The friends you make on here have to be important to you, have to be a priority, have to be loved and cherished and doted on and you have to do this for eeeeveryone. You can’t just be vague ‘we write together’ friends, you have to be best friends. And while yeah, you will definitely bond with some people on here in a way that translates offline, the statistical probability of that happening with every single solitary person you ever meet around here ( especially given that you have to try to give everyone a chance or you’re an asshole ) is astronomical. And for those that you don’t end up bonding with in that way? You guessed it: sad, guilt-trippy posts about how they’re not worth being special to people.

I might be paraphrasing here, but it seems to me a lot of the issues people have on tumblr can be solved by simply caring less. Not to be confused with not caring, don’t misunderstand. Sill try to be nice, try to be a decent person, don’t go out of your way to be an asshole and if you find yourself hitting the anon button for anything other than sending an ask from a sideblog, you’ve done something wrong.

But this is a HOBBY my guys. Let it be a hobby. Let it be something innocuous and easy and mindless and fun. Not everything that someone does is a direct shot at you, your self confidence, or should have this big an impact on your self worth. Because these are just people on the internet, and in the rpc we’re just connected by a love of writing… or procrastinating writing, which lbr is way more common.

#preachover

#i've been feeling all sorts of ways about the rpc lately #and i know personally other people have been as well #and it all boils down to the fact that there's five million rules of how not to hurt someone's feelings #and it's exhausting #rant cw #long post #ooc

12 notes · View notes

thewritenerd · 4 years ago

Text

Victor and Adam: NaNoWriMo Day 20

***

They spent the rest of the afternoon testing the invention with the suitcase gradually increasing the weight as they did so. It took a while as the belt kept slipping off and Adam had to keep putting it back on. Eventually they got to testing it on a full case. At first it seemed to be working just fine. All the parts were moving as they should and slowly the case lifted off the ground. Then half way through the process everything shuddered to a stop with a unpleasant grinding sound. ‘What happened?’ Dr Ramaker asked frowning at it. ‘I’m not sure. But it looks like it’s past its weight limit.’ Adam replied as he pulled out his notebook. He added increase weight limit to his list of fixes. ‘Well I’d say you’ve gotten pretty far in such a short space of time.’ Dr Ramaker said nodding. ‘I’m impressed. Do you reckon you could have this finished in say another month?’ Adam thought about it for a moment. ‘Providing my theory for why it’s not working is right and I can get the parts I need it should be doable.’ ‘Great. Oh and do you think it’s possible to make it so you can lift things without handles. Say a crate of something?’ Adam nodded. ‘That should be easy. What size were you thinking?’ ‘Oh nothing bigger than the average man could carry.’ Adam added to his notes and slipped his notebook back into his pocket and stood up. ‘Right,’ Dr Ramaker said standing up and brushing his hands on his trousers. ‘Let’s clear this away and then we can get some dinner. How do you feel about takeout? We can come back here to eat it.’ Adam glanced at the window. He didn’t want to go home just yet, but it was getting dark. ‘I can drive you home afterwards.’ Dr Ramaker offered as if reading his mind. ‘I’ll have to drop you off at the bottom of the hill but it’ll be a considerably shorter walk.’ Adam nodded. ‘Okay. And thanks. Not just for the food. I really needed to get out today.’ Dr Ramaker smiled at him. ‘Any time my boy. Any time.’

Victor

As they waited in line Victor noticed Adam kept looking at the floor. On top of that he kept scratching at his wrists. ‘Stop that.’ Victor hissed. Then a little softer added. ‘Have you mentioned that to your therapist?’ Adam shook his head. ‘Well you should. If you’re self-harming you need to tell him. He can’t help if he doesn’t know.’ Adam nodded and pulled his sleeves over his hands. Victor turned back to look at the posters on the wall. ‘Which film did you pick again?’ he asked. ‘That one.’ Adam said pointing to a poster showing a man looking up at a mass of digital numbers. Connecting this man and the numbers was a beam of light with a blue tinge. ‘Right.’ Victor nodded. ‘And what did you say it was about?’ ‘Time travel. It’s supposed to be inspired by a HG Wells book. I can’t remember which one.’ Victor thought for a moment. ‘The Time Machine. Have you read it?’ Adam shook his head. ‘Not yet. But I’ve read Wells and I know I like him.’ Victor couldn’t help but smile at this. It had been his idea to put those books in Adam’s room. He’d enjoyed them as a boy and a part of him had hoped Adam would to. Eventually the queue moved far enough forward that they were now standing in the foyer. ‘I seriously hope we can get seats.’ Victor grumbled leaning to get a look at the front of the queue. ‘I’m sure there will be some left.’ Adam replied. Victor looked at him his eyebrow raised. ‘You are aware that you are severely limited by where you can sit? You can’t sit anywhere you may block someone else’s view, and I don’t think your legs would fit into half the seats.’ And folded his arms. ‘And whose fault is that?’ he asked. ‘Hmm?’ He cocked his head to one side. ‘If you want me to do this sort of thing with you again you’ll have to be less cheeky young man.’ Victor warned. Adam laughed. ‘Yes dad.’ Victor wondered if he should say anything. But decided against it. A little sarcasm never hurt he supposed. And it was certainly better than him tearing his skin off as he jumped at every little movement. Once they’d bought their tickets, the screen was more than half empty so there was no problems finding a seat, they joined the queue for snacks. ‘You can have three things and one drink.’ Victor told Adam. ‘And for goodness sake make it last. The film’s nearly three hours long for crying out loud.’ Adam nodded. ‘Can I have nachos?’ he asked. ‘Okay fine. But I’m not getting you an Ice cream as well. It’ll melt before you’ve even gotten to it.’ Adam didn’t seem bothered by that. In the end he chose a bowl of nacho’s, a medium bag of salted popcorn, a bag of chocolate buttons, and a bottle of water. Victor also bought a coffee for himself. The lights were already down as the entered the screen and the trailers were playing on the screen. As they made their way up the stairs to the back of the screen Victor couldn’t help but notice how many people turned to stare at Adam. Once they’d sat down he noticed that a old woman sat diagonally to their spot a few seats away was glaring at them. Victor stared back at her until she finally turned back round. ‘Do you know her?’ Adam asked. Victor shook his head. ‘No. Maybe she thought she knew me.’ It wasn’t exactly a lie he didn’t know her. But he had seen her before and he did recognise her face. She had been on the jury for Adam’s trial. He still remembered the look she’d given Adam when the not guilty verdict was read. Apparently it had come close mostly down to her. Victor glanced back over to her then to Adam who was paying more attention to the screen than anyone around him. The old woman was talking to a boy who looked around thirteen. Her grandson perhaps? Not long after the film started Victor forgotten about the old lady. If the film was supposed to be based on The Time Machine it was very loosely. In fact besides a few character names and the fact there was time travel it was nothing like the book. Not to say it was a bad film. Just not the kind he’d choose for himself. When it was over he remembered the old lady. Looking over to her he saw her stand up and start to usher her grandson out of the screen. ‘Wait there a minute. We’ll go when everyone else has.’ He told Adam. Adam nodded and stayed watching the screen. Once it seemed everyone except one couple, who seemed too interested in each other’s mouths to have realised the film was over, had left they began to leave. They’d walked out through the door when he spotted her again. She was making her way towards them rather fast. Her grandson was nowhere in site. Probably in the toilets he thought. ‘Well don’t you have some nerve.’ She said as she approached them. Victor opened his mouth to speak before realising she was looking at Adam. Adam just dropped his head and kicked at the ground. ‘I mean going around like what you did doesn’t even matter.’ ‘Come on.’ Victor said giving Adam a nudge. ‘Don’t walk away from me.’ The old lady snapped. ‘I don’t care what those idiots say. You’re a cold blooded murderer. Monsters like you don’t belong here. Adam stopped walking and turned around. He was shaking uncontrollably and there were tears in his eyes. ‘How dare you. How dare you! I don’t care if you call me a monster. I don’t care if you hate me. But don’t ever tell me I don’t care. Don’t ever tell me how I feel about something. Because I know it matters. What I did… But it was a fucking accident! And I can’t take it back. So what am I supposed to do!? Throw myself off a cliff?’ ‘Maybe you should.’ The old lady said. Sounding braver than she looked. ‘Yeah. Maybe I should.’ Adam said suddenly seeming like someone had drained the energy out of him. ‘Right that’s enough.’ He said pointing at the woman. ‘You have just crossed so many lines I don’t know where to start.’ ‘Well she’s not wrong!’ A man called. ‘And you can stay out of it.’ Victor replied. The man said something rude in response as Victor pulled Adam away from the scene. The boy was shaking badly and didn’t seem to know which way to go. Once they were back in the car he burst into tears. Victor just sat in the drivers seat waiting for him to finish. When Adam’s howling had been reduced to hiccupping sobs he handed him a tissue and turned the keys in the ignition. ‘I hate people.’ Adam grumbled his voice thick from crying. ‘You like Igor, and your friends, and your maths teacher.’ Victor pointed out. ‘They’re individuals. I hate people as a group. Human’s are horrible. They say mean things and are violent on purpose. But at the same time they’ll call you evil for making a mistake.’ For a moment he was quite as he sat staring out the window. ‘The first human I ever tried to speak to shot me.’ ‘They what?’ Victor asked. Adam nodded. ‘He did it five times. Though only one hit me. On the arm. It didn’t go in though it hurt like hell. ‘I. I had no idea.’ ‘Yeah. Well I never felt like you’d care. But the worst thing is I just know that man never gets stopped by strangers telling him to off himself. He tried to kill me but that’s fine because… Because I’m not human.’ ‘Adam…’ ‘What am I? You made me. If anyone knows you should. Because I don’t want to be a human and I’m sick of being a monster.’ Victor sighed. ‘You were never a monster.’ Adam looked at him. ‘Don’t think I’ve forgotten you were the first one to ever call me that. I hated you for that. For treating me the way you did. Not just then, but when I first came to live with you. I still remember the way you looked at me. Like you’d give anything to be rid of me. I know you hated me. I’m not even sure you like me now.’ ‘It hasn’t been easy building a relationship with you. And I do take the majority of the blame. But I don’t hate you not now.’ He sighed. ‘Do you still hate me?’ Adam shook his head. ‘No. But as for forgiving you. Ask me another time.’

#nanowrimo #victor and adam #long post #read more #writing #writblr

0 notes