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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

Text

The Birthday Party (Diamond Chaney) - Ortega

fic summary: Ellie spends the night of her birthday crying over a girl that doesn’t like her back. Lawrence will consider the evening a success if she can comfort her without her own heart shattering in the process.

a/n: this one goes out to the anon on my blog that asked me “after rereading freshers au about 3 million times I must ask… are we getting a chapter about Ellie’s 18th birthday party? I’m just thinking about the unrequited crushing/diamond Chaney potential”. apparently i am unable to say no to any anon that comes to me asking for more diamond chaney content, nor am i able to name any of these fics after anything other than 1975 song titles. hope u all enjoy!

***

It’s an image that could hang in the Louvre but it’s one that breaks her heart.

Ellie is sitting on a red brick wall with her legs dangling off it, pale and bare except from a couple of bruises where she’s banged them off the flat’s furniture. The grass on the raised ground behind her is wet and cold, shining under the streetlamps in the damp of that hazy timezone between midnight and morning. She’s right in the middle of the yellow spotlight from above, and Lawrence thinks it’s weird how a colour that’s the same as the sun can all at once seem so cold. The mist, though light, hangs suffocating and stagnant in the air. It casts its moisture over the cars parked on the road opposite, and there’s an urge Lawrence has to push down to draw a little heart on a car bonnet, then zig-zag a line down the middle to break it.

Lawrence thinks she looks like some sort of Disney Channel character come to life; pink and white checked gingham skirt, white, long-sleeved crop top. The pink Filas with the hearts that she’d spent way too much of her student loan on and the matching pink bow that sits squint in her curly, rain-frizzy hair. There’s a crumpled, sad ball of a tissue clutched tight in her white-knuckled hands, and her pink acrylics are outlined with black smudges. Her head hangs towards her lap and as she tilts it to the sky Lawrence can see her face; her makeup, still completely perfect, but with two long, unbroken tear tracks of black mascara and eyeliner that stream down her cheeks like some sort of poison.

Lawrence feels like crying herself, almost had done when Ellie had broken down to them all in the club toilets. When she’d sobbed and her chest had risen and fallen so rapidly, illustrating the pieces of her heart that were shattering inside her ribcage as if Tia was blowing them up with dynamite. When A’whora had shushed her comfortingly and rubbed her back and Bimini had fed her tissue after tissue from the loo roll dispenser. When Ellie had whispered with all the hope and life gone out of her voice,

“I like her so much, and she doesn’t even know, and she’ll never see me like that.”

And Lawrence couldn’t say a word because she couldn’t trust herself to. Because she didn’t even know what to say. Really what could she say when Ellie had said it all already?

She recalls the way the bass from the songs that were playing out in the main room of the club had seemed so much like a sinister heartbeat; the soundtrack to the dread that Lawrence was feeling, that feeling of something slipping away.

Well, not something. Ellie.

Tayce hadn’t had much time for the whole situation. Lawrence knew she cared, of course, it would be harsh to say she didn’t, but she had been drunk and not particularly tactful. She’d hoisted Ellie to her feet, smudged away her tears from beneath her lashes with her thumbs and cupped her face as she gave a speech about how Ellie didn’t need anyone to make her feel happy, and how if Tia wasn’t going to notice her then there were a million other girls and guys out there that would, and how Ellie couldn’t let anyone spoil her night and Tayce wasn’t going to let that happen either. The song’s transition into Be Faithful had prompted Tayce to take charge, gripping Ellie’s hand and leading them all out of the toilets and onto the dancefloor with a battle cry about how this was her song, and how there was no way in hell she was missing the opportunity to get to dance to it with her best bitches.

Lawrence had known that Ellie hadn’t really felt better, though. The smile on her face was fake and she’d disappeared when the others were all too distracted bickering about whose round it was next. Lawrence had seen her disappear through the main doors and towards the exit- really the idea of Ellie being able to sneak off anywhere was laughable given her height- and so she’d dashed off without thinking, following her while a sinking feeling rose in her gut.

And now she’s here, a little way along the street outside the club, looking at Ellie and her broken heart and trying to figure out how to clean up the mess without a dustpan and brush.

So she awkwardly approaches her, forcing a smile as Ellie lifts her head to look at her through sapphires filled with tears. She decides to go with what’s always served her well though life and injects some fake cheer into her voice as she opens the joke.

“Did I ever tell you about the time the police chapped my door an’ told me my dogs were chasin’ people on bikes?” she opens limply, the joke already the verbal equivalent of a racehorse about to be made into glue. “My dogs didny even have bikes.”

Ellie gives an empty shell of a laugh in return. Lawrence supposes it’s the joke equivalent of “ask a stupid question, recieve a stupid answer”- tell a shite joke, recieve a shite laugh in reply. She’s rendered silent again, left to awkwardly scuff her foot over the glistening, frosty ground until Ellie gives a shuddery breath in.

“Y'should be back inside with the others,” she starts quietly, paws at her sniffly nose with the back of her hand, the tissue being long since rendered useless. “Having fun and getting drunk instead of listening to my shit.”

“I’m already drunk,” Lawrence shrugs at her. It’s half true. She feels too exposed as she follows it up with, “And it’s not fun if I know you’re upset.”

The tiny smile that appears on Ellie’s face and the way her eyes gain just a tiny bit of life makes coming out here in the freezing cold worth it.

“Ellie,” Lawrence gives a small sigh of sympathy, moves to stand in front of her and lets the crumpled tissue fall into Ellie’s lap before she takes her friend’s hands. She’s thrown before she can say anything. “Fucking Christ, your hands are baltic.”

“It’s December in Scotland. Everything’s baltic,” Ellie gives the tiniest roll of her eyes, but her expression is mostly one of affection, the gesture clearly appreciated. The way Lawrence’s heart is sparked by it is way too embarrassing and ridiculous, and she feels like a total idiot for being in this deep.

She covers it up with a sarcastic barb, a raised eyebrow used as a capital letter. “Do you want a pep talk or don’t you?”

“Please,” Ellie replies flatly.

Lawrence has about a second to collect her thoughts, try to arrange them into something coherent and supportive like a child making a model out of junk and PVA glue. She knows it’s going to come at the expense of her own heart but really, when has she ever put her own feelings first when Ellie’s been involved? She wishes they both had the same aspect to their friendship as A’whora and Tayce: that undercurrent of flirting and tension, the fact that A’whora’s huge crush on Tayce is the equivalent of a present wrapped in cellophane, and if they’ve not already done something about that whole aspect of their relationship then they surely will soon. But with Ellie it’s different. Lawrence is bound by the ties of the purely platonic nature of their friendship and, while she’d love nothing more than to break them, there’s still that part of her that’s content to stay in the chains they created together because even though they’re tight, they’re comfortable. They’re safe.

Ellie is Lawrence’s friend, so Lawrence puts her own feelings to one side and acts like it.

“I know it hurts,” Lawrence says, unable to meet her friend’s eyes as she strokes her thumb over her knuckles. “I know it feels like the worst heartache in the world, and it’s terrible. You feel like the pain’s not going to go away or…like your heart’s been smashed. It’s that way where…you’re too far gone as friends now, and it’s that feeling of not being able to change that path you’ve both gone down and…it’s too late, and you’re sat torturing yourself with the what-ifs and wondering if…y’know, maybe if you’d done something differently, maybe this, maybe that…”

Lawrence trails off to allow herself to gain back some composure, because all she’s succeeded in doing is making her own heart hurt with the truth. It’s the fact she’s telling Ellie everything: every feeling she goes through when it’s just the two of them bickering affectionately together, or the pair of them spooning when they’re hungover and emotional, or bonding over the Scottish Twitter references that the rest of their flatmates don’t get. It’s the way that with every moment they grow closer it only feels as if Ellie grows more and more distant.

“But you can’t hurt yourself like that, you know?” Lawrence says firmly, snapping her gaze up bravely to look Ellie in the eyes. “You can’t go through every day wondering why you’re not good enough, because the truth is that…you are. You fucking…are good enough, Ellie, you don’t need to change anything about yourself. Just keep being you, because…there’s someone out there who’ll appreciate it. And love you for it.”

Ellie’s gaze turns warm and soft, and she blinks a few tears away before looking into her lap, squeezing Lawrence’s hands. “Thank you, babe. That’s really nice.”

Lawrence can’t bask in the appreciation for long though because Ellie then narrows her eyes at her and gives her an inquisitive look.

“You know. You know what it feels like. How come you know?”

It would be so easy just to let something slip out; a confession, an admission, the secret she’s been holding in for two years now. The way she could bat it all away and cover it up with the amount of Jaeger she’s consumed over the past two hour period if it didn’t go down well on Ellie’s end. The thing is, though, that a drunk mind speaks sober thoughts, and it’s so cold in the street that she’s starting to sober up anyway. There wouldn’t really be anything to hide behind.

So she gives a snort of self-derision. “I know I might just seem like a joke book in a flesh suit, but I actually have a heart underneath it all.”

“Yeah,” Ellie agrees softly, her smile growing a little bigger. “You do.”

Lawrence’s heart soars into the sky like a bubble or a ridiculous novelty helium balloon. Ellie’s being sincere; she’s not layering Lawrence’s joke with another joke, a playing card on top of another. She’s just being honest. She sees Lawrence’s heart underneath all the sarcasm and the comedy and the way she can’t ever lay a single one of her feelings bare. Sometimes Lawrence dares to hope, dares to dream. Maybe everything she feels is reciprocated even a little bit. This- with Ellie’s gentle smile and the way the streetlamp is giving her a halo and the mist that’s wrapping around the two of them- is one of those moments.

Ellie sighs heavily, cuts through her thoughts. “It’s not even like Veronica’s someone I can justifiably hate, y’know? She has to be fucking…nice, and sweet, and pretty and lovely and Little Miss Perfect. Of course Tia’s mad for her.”

Pop.

“Well, you’re nice as well,” Lawrence frowns insistently. She finds herself rambling a little, clearly not as sober as she supposes the cold is rendering her. “And sweet and pretty and lovely. And perfect. Actually, not quite. C��mere.”

Lawrence beckons for Ellie to lean down, and as she does she fleetingly thinks about how easy it would be to kiss her. Too easy but too overwhelmingly difficult all at once.

Instead, Lawrence reaches her hands up to do what she’d intended, and fixes Ellie’s bow as if she’s adjusting a crown for a princess.

“There. Perfect now.”

Ellie smiles sadly at her as she straightens up, whispers a soft, resigned “thank you”. She sighs, looks plaintively up at the sky, the yellow of the streetlamp and the inky black of the vast space hanging above their heads. She pouts, deflated and defeated.

“What do I do now?”

Lawrence looks down the street, back in the direction of the flat. She could tell Ellie to give up and get over Tia. She could tell Ellie there’s someone that she knows- that they both know- that actually has a huge crush on her, she just needs to open her bloody eyes because all that fucking eyeliner’s clearly making her blind. She could tell Ellie that even the blind man’s fucking guide dog can see that Tia is hopelessly infatuated with the tiny blonde children’s storybook character she’s been making heart-eyes at for the past three months.

But Ellie’s already heartbroken enough and Lawrence is trying to make her feel better, and the antidote of heartbreak is hope. So she gives Ellie two options.

“Well. You could just carry on pinning your hopes on a girl who you’re not sure’s ever going to like you back, if you think you’ve got enough hope and optimism left in you. Or you could move on. Find the someone else out there who’ll love you for everything you are, because there is one. I know there is,” Lawrence says, omitting the fact that said person is her best friend, standing right in front of her. She smiles tightly before adding, “Your choice.”

When Lawrence realises she’s holding her breath waiting on her friend’s decision she feels even more of an idiot than she already does.

Ellie’s smile turns a little more genuine and she doesn’t even have to say anything to tell Lawrence what she’s chosen. “Well I’ve never been one to go down without a fight, you know? So…let’s just say Veronica better watch out. I’m gonna come up behind her and knock her kneecaps in to win my girl over. No matter how lovely she is.”

Lawrence shares Ellie’s giggle with a heart made of lead. She’ll keep pining, then. Keep on keeping on, keep on sharing moments with Ellie that make her day and ruin it all at once, the cause and the cure of all her mixed-up emotions. She’d rather keep her friendship with Ellie and have her heart crack just a little tiny bit every day than not have the girl in her life at all.

“Right, c’mon you. I’m freezing my not inconsiderable tits off out here,” Lawrence says decisively, if a little quietly. She wants nothing more than to drag herself back into the club and fill herself with artificial happiness, drink and listen to dance tracks about breakups with a too-fast BPM for the subject matter.

As Ellie takes her hand the split-second before she turns around, though, Lawrence’s priorities change. Her friend’s face is pleading and a little shy as she meets her eyes for a second and then snaps them to the ground.

“Can we just stay out here for a couple more minutes? Sorry,” Ellie explains. Lawrence can tell she feels silly. “I’m starting to feel better just being out here with you, so��I don’t want to go back in just yet.”

Like a complete fool, Lawrence just smiles and nods. “Of course we can.”

There’s a small silence in which Lawrence hugs herself tightly and rubs both her arms, because, well. She is freezing. She’s freezing and she wishes she had a cigarette. Ellie clearly isn’t as wrapped up in her own thoughts as she had been before because she notices her friend’s discomfort, gives a roll of her eyes which is affectionate rather than exasperated and pats the wall beside her.

“Hop up and I’ll warm you up,” she says. The jolt her words give Lawrence’s heart is what can only be described as pathetic, jump leads to a dying car.

Lawrence tries to join her on the wall, placing her palms on the bricks and making to hoist herself up. Her short stature, though, is rendering this difficult, and with each new unsuccessful attempt Ellie starts to laugh more and more until she’s doubled over, unable to breathe at Lawrence’s various attempts to sit beside her.

(Lawrence always loves making Ellie laugh whether she’s intended to or not, because it’s a way of guaranteeing that her attention is on her. The more she can make her laugh, the more of her attention she gets, so sometimes Lawrence will act up as if she’s on an episode of Live at the Apollo with an audience of one, in the world’s first romantically driven stand-up set.)

Ellie continues to laugh, finally holding a hand out for Lawrence to grab with a humoured “c’mere” to accompany it. As Lawrence grasps her hand and feels sparks fly through her bloodstream, she also clearly underestimates Ellie’s strength as she’s tugged suddenly forwards and they’re both flying onto the grass behind the wall. All at once the pair of them are reduced to bundles of giggles; legs scraping against the bricks and bodies flush against the wet grass, both of them breathless with their hands still entwined.

As their laughter dies down, there’s nothing left but their faces close together and the rise and fall of their chests and the small, dippy smile that’s still there on Ellie’s lips as she looks at her. The black of the sky and the green of the grass and the blue of her eyes, colour in absolutes. Simple, like Lawrence’s feelings are anything but.

It’s ethereal and it’s sad and Ellie will never know what it all means to her.

“I love you,” Lawrence says quietly. It’s too real and too painful and too raw to leave it like that, a plaster ripped off a cut too early. She elects to follow it up with, “Ya big bow-legged freak.”

Ellie giggles again, drunk and appeased. This is good. This is what Lawrence had wanted; to cheer her up and put that starry smile on her face on a night that’s meant to be all about her, meant to be special and magical and not the bad dream it had turned into. Lawrence has filled her head with drunk platitudes and compliments that’ve hurt too much to give. Lawrence has done the duties of a friend. She is her friend. And Ellie is happy. Lawrence can’t be sad when she’s happy.

Ellie lets go of her hand, pulls her in and hugs her. In an instant, the dewey grass seems instantly warmer. The moment is nicotine and Lawrence fills her lungs.

“I love you too, babe.”

She pretends she means it like she wants her to, and the bittersweet feeling it gives her fills her heart like tar.

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #ellie diamond #lawrence chaney #ellie x lawrence #uk2 #angst #unrequited love #the birthday party #ortega #me and you together

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angerissuesandrews · 5 years ago

Text

Hello! Welcome to the Reddie Fic Rec!

Please make sure you read all tags on fics before reading!

Have fun and enjoy :)))

Created by Evan (@iwannadie4000 on tiktok)

And special thanks to Charlie (@hippityhoppe on tiktok) for helping!

*CLICK HERE FOR THE GOOGLE DOC REC LINK!*

1. ON POINTE

by tossertozier (rednoseredhair); Explicit (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12519724

“Eddie was a freshman at Boston University of the arts, majoring in dance with a concentration in ballet. He went to sleep early, woke up earlier & took nothing for granted. He fucking hated his dorm neighbors, loud, obnoxious idiots who got drunk all the time. They didn't even know where the library on campus was. He didn't have any idea how the three of them, especially the one with curly hair, even GOT into that school.

2. BRIGHT AS YELLOW

by speakslow; Mature (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12786678

Highschool AU, Richie’s loud Eddie’s annoyed what do you expect

3. WONDER VIOLET

by belby; Mature (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13179045

Eddie’s friends with Richie’s sister ,,, you know what happens

4. GO WEST

by ssstrychnine; Teen and Up Audiences

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12327069

“1996: Richie and Eddie finish school, drive to San Francisco, change their lives ft. hair braiding, a fake las vegas wedding, waterfalls, bumper cars, and approx. 3300 miles.”

5. I LEFT MY UMBRELLA AT HOME

by hippityhoppy; Mature (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22775233

“By 1996, the Losers are well into college. As they often do, life and time have distanced them in more ways than one. Richie, in an attempt to cling to the normalcy of the past in what feels like a steep slope into a downward spiral, ends up on an unfamiliar doorstep of an all too familiar friend. As if Eddie didn't have to deal with enough on his own plate. The both of them, they quickly come to find out, are unprepared for the storms to come.”

6. LOVESONG (A SERIES)*

by WaxAgent; Mature-Explicit (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/series/852234

“They're all connected, sure, but nothing comes close to the iron bonds between Richie Tozier and Eddie Kaspbrak; they have their ups and their downs, but they always have each other. A look at their lives from leaving Derry to being dragged back by a promise than both of them had long forgotten.”

*(OKAY EVAN HERE!!! I LOVE THIS FIC/SERIES SO MUCH BUT IN PART 2 IT HAS A STRANGER THINGS CROSSOVER WITH MIKE AND EL BUT I SAY SKIP THAT AND GO ON YOU DON'T MISS MUCH AND WE ALL KNOW IM SO ANTI-CROSSOVER OKAY BYE)

7. WHENEVER I’M ALONE WITH YOU

by stellarbisexual; Explicit (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12182691

“Losers in college. Richie's in an alternative rock band, and Eddie has flung himself into the queer scene.”

8. SAY THAT YOU’LL STAY

by speakslow; Explicit (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12474044

“Richie works at a shitty amusement park for the summer and meets some new friends. Set in 1997”

9. STAY FOR THE STORM

by inoubliable; Explicit (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15442848

“Richie and Eddie had become friends almost on sight. Since they met, most of Eddie's time in Los Angeles has involved Richie in some way.

It's a little different, now that they're both famous.

It's a little different, now that they're sleeping together.

Well, to be fair, they've been sleeping together for a long time, but. No one knows, not even their friends. Eddie has been very careful about that. It's just not the sort of publicity he needs.

So when Beverly calls him that sunny Thursday morning, the last thing he expects her to say is, ‘You're fucking Richie?’”

10. COFFEE AND CARNIVAL BEARS

by StarshipDancer; Teen and Up Audiences

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12325209

“‘Eddie Kaspbrak knew how many germs were in a person’s mouth, and he would only swap spit with his fucking soulmate.’

Finding your soulmate should be pretty straightforward, but not for Eddie. Not when there were two possible candidates, and he had no idea which one it fucking was.”

11. LET’S HEAR IT FOR THE BOY(S)

by Kandakickas; Teen and Up Audiences

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12372279

“In which Richie and Eddie go to different colleges, and all of their friends are curious about their unnamed significant others - right up until those significant others come to visit and everyone is both shocked and confused.”

12. MEET ME HALFWAY

by ShowMeAHero; Explicit (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20667038

“‘Richie,’ Mike says sharply. “Who are you with? Why are you in Derry?”

‘Tell him,’ Eddie whispers again.

‘Is that Eddie?’ Mike asks.

‘Tell him, Richie,’ Eddie says again, louder.

‘Jesus Christ,’ Mike says, and Richie snaps, throwing his phone hard at the kitchen wall opposite them. The back smashes and the battery falls into a bowl soaking in the sink. There’s a beat of silence where Eddie and Richie stare at the battery floating in the soapy water.

‘Good work, Kobe,’ Eddie says.”

13. DREAMBOAT

by weepies; Not Rated

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14073438

“‘What are you? A third grader? What the fuck is this?’ Eddie asks. He looks at Richie, confused.

‘A list of fun stuff to do, duh. Can’t you read? I thought you were studying creative writing.’ Eddie glares at Richie, who raises his hands in surrender as he chuckles. ‘Okay, okay. Hear me out. Your professor tells you to write what you know, and you said you don’t know anything. Well, sugar, here’s your opportunity to learn something about yourself.’

Dumbfounded, Eddie cannot tear his eyes away from Richie, his mouth agape. ‘You’re insane,’ Eddie says.

‘And proud,’ Richie replies.

...

In which Eddie Kaspbrak is a writer with no ideas, and Richie Tozier is a coffee shop employee bursting with creativity.”

14. TO THE GUY AT THE BUS STOP:

by Ragno; Explicit (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12809109

“The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, especially if the other side of the fence is Ireland and the grass is Eddie living his own life for the first time ever away from his mom. An International Students Exchange Program is what he needs to finally stand up for himself and doing what he really wants. Who cares if he won't know anybody there? Who cares if he'll be alone in a foreign country? Who cares if he won't have his car and will need to take the bus to go anywhere?? Okay, maybe Eddie does care about that last one…But, hey, at least the real grass is really greener there. Right?”

15. CLOSER THAN MOST

by tozierbraks; Mature (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14934062/chapters/34598660

“Richie was panting slightly when he reached out an arm and grasped the man’s shoulder a little too hard. He spun rapidly, stumbling backwards away from Richie, his deep brown eyes wide in shock.

‘Eds.’ Richie breathed, his stomach twisting.

Eddie’s wide eyes narrowed in confusion while his brows knitted downwards. He pulled his shoulder out of Richie’s grip

‘Sorry, do I know you?’

college au + forgetting!eddie fic”

16. SIGNED, SOMEONE

by roughentumble; Teen and Up Audiences

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21096380/chapters/50195051

“A secret admirer/love letter AU. Richie starts leaving anonymous love letters in Eddie's locker.”

17. CLUE(LESS)

by endversed; Teen and Up Audiences

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12468440

“Every person on this sorry planet wakes up on their seventeenth birthday with a soulmate mark somewhere on their body – but it’s not always easy to figure out. It’s not their name, or their first words to you, or even some kind of matching shape. It’s not anything clearly indicative; nothing concrete (at first).

No, all this mark gives you is a clue.”

18. FOR BLUE SKIES

by sunsetozier; Teen and Up Audiences

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13978821

“Just as he’s beginning to shake himself out of his daze, his phone buzzes in his hand, a notification popping up at the top of his screen that makes his entire body freeze, reading and rereading it to make sure his eyes aren’t playing a trick on him. When the words don’t change, his jaw drops, an anxious excitement tingling just beneath his skin.

@trashmouthmusic followed you back!

[In which Richie posts anonymous covers on Twitter and Eddie is instantly infatuated with his voice.]”

19. OUR HOUSE, IN THE MIDDLE OF OUR HOUSE

by orphan_account; Teen and Up Audiences

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12458046

“Whatever song your soulmate has stuck in their head is resultantly stuck in yours. Eddie, long suffering through mattress commercial jingles and old rock hits, imagines he would kill his soulmate if he had the chance. Or, he would, if he didn't think revenge was a better answer.”

20. MAYBE, MAYBE

by lisscor; Not Rated

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12841593

“The light was on again. The one in room 307. Richie wondered, not for the first time, who was up there.

Maybe one day, he would find out.

In which two insomniacs who have never met find comfort in the last place they would think to look - each other.”

21. MOST BELOVED

by idaemilia; Mature (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12160854/chapters/27598224

“‘But he had eyes like rain

and hair like waves

and a soul as vast and deep as the ocean

and I guess I didn't mind drowning in him’

-xvaniex on tumblr

Eddie keeps pining for Richie who is too blind to see it. But maybe he already knows.

*previously named Philtatos*”

22. TO WHAT WE MIGHT DO

by MacksDramaticShenanigans; Teen and Up Audiences

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21709897

“He looks scared. More scared than Eddie’s ever seen him before. He looks nervous, too, and Eddie didn’t think it was even possible for Richie Tozier to get nervous.

But there he is. Looking like he's going to shit his pants or throw up all over himself. Eddie would be more worried about that if he still thought Richie was drunk.”

23. CROOKED HEARTS

by killerqueer; General Audiences

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13093371

The Monday before Christmas break, Eddie comes to school to find a yellow rose and a letter from a secret admirer taped to his locker. He's convinced it's a prank until the same thing happens the next day and then continues the rest of the week. He's determined to find out who is doing this, even though he's convinced himself that there's no way it could possibly be the one person he really wants it to be.

24. THE THIRD DATE RULE

by tinyarmedtrex; Mature (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13059960

“Bev drags Eddie along for her tattoo session, telling him that her artist is sex on a stick. She's right, Eddie likes him immediately- if only he wouldn't talk so much.

AU where Richie is a tattoo artist and Eddie pretty much just wants to work in HR and be left alone.”

25. PARENT TEACHER ASSOCIATION (PTA)

by reddiebitch; Mature (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13773060

“In which Eddie is Richie's kid's first grade teacher.”

26. FAKING IT

by domino1234; Mature (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18023273

“The obnoxiously pretty boy with the filthy mouth across the hall manages to convince Eddie to spend spring break pretending to be his boyfriend at his family’s lake house. Can Eddie put his unrequited crush aside to play up the charade for a week or will his feelings inevitably get in the way?”

27. Nightmares

by MargotCelvin; Teen and Up Audiences

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15515028

“Richie Tozier is trying to start over in New York. He left California behind and wants to leave his old life there as well. The only thing holding him to his old life are the nightmares that have plagued him for so long. But is there something in New York that can cure him of this disease?”

28. FREAKING OUT THE NEIGHBORHOOD

by bearkwans; Explicit (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19342543

“Richie thinks that this is what being a father is like. He sure fucking feels like a father, dropping all of his plans to take care of his pet, making very specific google searches and running around his apartment like a madman, grabbing toys and a blanket and a few mice in a tupperware bowl. He knows logistically that everything he’s grabbing is useless and what he really needs is a chill pill and maybe some whiskey to soothe his shaking hands, but Richie can’t help the way his paternal side wakes up and takes control of his mind.

“[or: richie's pet snake is sick and he goes to see vet eddie ;) ;)]”

29. SUGAR, HONEY, HONEY

by thefutureisbright; Mature (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17376344

“Eddie works in a bakery. His life was finally simple. He loved his job, he loved his friends, he loved his shitty little apartment with its shitty little balcony. He loved the plants he kept on his balcony. He loved that he could see the New York skyline when it was an especially clear day. He loved that he lived nowhere near his mother. Eddie loved his quiet, simple life.

Until he met Richie fucking Tozier, and his life was never simple again.”

30. THE BLIND BOX

by tinyarmedtrex; Mature (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13728915

“Eddie works at Gamestop and a dark haired stranger comes in and starts flirting with him. Eddie doesn't think much of it until they keep meeting.

Another College AU! Because why the hell not”

#reddie #fanfiction #reddie fanfiction #fanfic rec #richie tozier #eddie kasbrak #richie and eddie #it #it chapter two #it chapter 1 #it 2017 #it 2019 #fanfic #ao3 #archive of our own #richie x eddie

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honeypiehotchner · 5 years ago

Text

Covered Memories -- part 1

TW for mentions of suicide, suicidal thoughts/tendencies, paranoia(?), sadness. Stay safe lovelies.

Here is the Sherlock I promised. It has a couple parts, so I’m going to let this one settle before I give you the next (I’m also editing it as I reread it haha). This was inspired by Billie Eilish’s song “listen before i go” but you don’t need to listen to it while reading or anything. Enjoy! Love you guys xx.

I went to sleep watching Sherlock and woke up on a bus in London.

It sounds crazier than it actually is, I promise.

Just kidding, it’s absolutely insane. I’m on a fucking bus in London and I’m from Ohio. I’m from the United States of fucking America, and I somehow woke up on a bus in England.

I didn’t realize where I was at first, to be completely honest. I didn’t recognize it. The first dead giveaway was that the bus was driving on the wrong side of the road – well, the correct side here, but the wrong side to me completely.

I’m still in my pajamas, and I’m a little more than thankful that last night I fell asleep in a hoodie and leggings. At least I’m not half naked on a bus in downtown London.

Things could be a lot worse than they are, that’s for sure.

But the situation I’m in also isn’t exactly okay. I don’t have my purse, my phone, or any damn shoes on my feet. I don’t even have my damn glasses, so walking around is going to be a little more than challenging, which is partly why I’ve stayed on this bus for longer than I should.

Eventually, though, I figure I’ve been on here for long enough, so I decide to step down and onto the sidewalk.

Okay, bad idea. Foreign city, foreign person, and I have no earthly idea where I’m at or where I should go.

One piece at a time. Okay, I have no money, so a cab ride is out of the park. And so is…basically everything else.

Okay.

When one wakes up in London, what does one do – especially if one has never been to London before?

I have no earthly idea.

The only knowledge I have of London is from the show I fell asleep watching – Sherlock – and even then, it’s a TV show. It’s fiction.

My eyes widen at the idea that just came into my head.

I know, logically, that Sherlock Holmes does not exist. He’s a fictional character, but in knowing that, I know that the show itself is pretty popular. I know a lot about said show. And I know that Baker Street is actually a real place. There’s a museum there now, or something.

Well, if I’m going to be stuck here, I might as well take advantage. I’ve always wanted to come to the museum, and since I’m here basically for free, I’m going to go see it.

Strange that I’m not freaking out right now, I know. I don’t know why I’m not freaking out either. I don’t think it has sunk in just yet. It always takes me a good week to really process things, actually, but who knows what that’s about.

Okay, Baker Street. I need to find my way to Baker Street.

Because I have no other option, I walk up to the least scary looking woman on the sidewalk with me, tapping her shoulder. Thankfully, she looks to be around my age, so she doesn’t seem too alarmed by me tapping her.

“Hi, you wouldn’t happen to know where the Sherlock Holmes museum is, would you?”

She smiles, sort of knowingly and nods. “You’re lookin’ for Sherlock Holmes?”

“Yes…” I nod slowly, not sure if she’s messing with me and is about to tell me to get lost, but she doesn’t.

“Come on, I’ll walk with you.”

If she wasn’t also a female and young, then I would not have followed her, but she looks like she means well, and knows where she’s going, which is evident when I vaguely see the awning to the museum in the distance.

“So, what’s up with you?”

I blink, letting out a weak laugh. “What?”

“Why do you need to see Sherlock Holmes?” She clarifies. “What’s your case?”

Okay, now I’m not sure if she’s the one who knows Sherlock Holmes doesn’t exist. I don’t even know how to respond to her.

“Oh, I’m not supposed to be here right now,” I shrug. “Just wondering if maybe he could…help me out.”

“Sounds interesting,” she nods seriously. “Well, it’s just up there. I’ve gotta get to work. Nice meeting you.”

“Yeah, you too…” I furrow my eyebrows, watching her cross the street.

I shake my head, rubbing my face with my hands. This no longer feels as concerning as it feels strange. Especially after that interaction.

I continue walking, continue feeling the concrete underneath my bare feet as I walk. I come up on the awning of the museum only to find it’s…it’s not the museum. It’s Speedy’s Café.

But Speedy’s isn’t here. Speedy’s isn’t supposed to be on this street – They don’t actually film the show at the exact 221B Baker Street. They film it on North Gower Street, everyone knows that.

I look up at the brick building, and sure enough, she led me to Baker Street, where the museum should be, but it’s Speedy’s.

I shake my head again, walking past the building to find someone else. I cast a quick glance at the door next to it, doing a doubletake when I see the golden 221B on the outside.

“This day is just getting weirder and weirder,” I sigh.

I rub at my eyes, stepping closer to see if it’s my eyes just playing a trick on me, but it’s not. It really does say 221B on the outside. Complete with the knocker turned to the side like Sherlock keeps it.

Okay, stop it. Sherlock Holmes is fictional. He keeps it that way in his fictional world. This is the real world, and yes, it’s short circuiting right now, it’s still reality.

It’s short circuiting? Really? I just woke up on a bus halfway across the globe after going to sleep in my apartment, and the best answer my brain can come up with is that the world is short circuiting?

Just for that, I’m going to ring the doorbell. Just once. If nothing happens, then I’ll go…find the police station, I don’t know.

Without giving it a single second thought, I step up, and briefly press the doorbell.

Nothing happens. Literally, nothing. Which gives me the impression that this is the flat they film in, and that it’s just made to look like it really is Baker Street, even though everyone knows it’s just North Gower.

I scoff to myself, feeling silly for even entertaining the idea, turning around to walk the other way. It’s when I turn my back that I hear the sound of the door opening, followed by an all too familiar voice.

“Ma’am, wait!”

I freeze. Absolutely not. There’s no absolute way that could be him.

I take a deep breath, slowly turning myself back around, coming face to face with the man I’ve only ever seen on my laptop or phone screen.

John Watson.

No…it’s not. It’s Martin Freeman, come on, John Watson doesn’t actually exist. He’s a fictional character.

“Would you like to come in?” He asks, stepping back and gesturing inside.

My legs move before I tell them to, walking me inside the flat. I wait until John closes the door, before I turn back around to look at him.

I probably look more than startled because he returns the expression, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Are you alright?”

“…no.”

“Alright, well, come upstairs. I’ll get Mrs. Hudson to make you a cuppa.”

I let him guide me up the stairs, checking on me every few steps to make sure I haven’t fainted, I’m sure. I’m not feeling faint, but I know I must look white as a sheet.

This is just wrong. And not real. I’m dreaming. Surely, this is just a dream.

“Mrs. Hudson, would you make…”

He looks to me for my name, so I answer him. “Liz.”

“Liz here a cuppa, please?”

Mrs. Hudson – yes, the Mrs. Hudson I’ve seen in the show, Una Stubbs – nods, frowning. “Of course, dear. Are you alright? You look a little spooked.”

“Yeah…I’m…I’m spooked,” I let out a breathy chuckle.

I glance around the apartment – flat, they’re flats here – with wide eyes. Everything is the same. The yellow smiley face ridden with bullet holes is on the wall above the couch. The messy coffee table that Sherlock always steps over is in front of the couch. The wall itself has various pictures and things pinned up, but I can’t see them clearly enough to know if it’s anything I’d recognize.

“Here you go, dear,” Mrs. Hudson hands me a cup of steaming tea. “Drink that and it should make you feel better.”

“Thanks, Mrs. H.”

John freezes, staring at me with wide eyes. “Mrs. H?”

“I’m sorry, force of habit,” I grimace. I’m ruining this already.

“Habit? Do you know Mrs. Hudson?”

“No, I—” I sigh. “It’s not a long story, but it’s really complicated, and I’m still trying to process everything right now and— Oh my God.”

The grip on my tea loosens completely, the cup falling from my hands and shattering at my feet. Standing before me is the man I’ve watched on a screen for years. Sherlock Holmes.

He finishes buttoning his blazer, raising an eyebrow. “Client?”

John answers, whilst cleaning up the broken shards of the teacup. “Yeah, I think. She said it’s complicated.” He stands, tossing them into the trashcan that Mrs. Hudson brought over before taking the towel from her to soak up the tea.

“It always is,” Sherlock dismisses John’s answer, holding his hand out to you. “Sherlock Holmes.”

“I know,” I blurt, immediately smacking myself in the forehead. I take his hand, giving it a firm shake. “I mean, I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Liz. Liz Singleton.”

“Singleton,” he repeats, narrowing his eyes. “I know that name.”

“You do?”

“Yes…I’m not sure from where. Well, it’ll come to me soon enough.” He walks around me, pulling the chair out from under the table and sitting it in the middle of the floor. “Have a seat, Miss Singleton and I’ll see what I can do for you.”

“I want to stand, actually,” I say, the past moments’ events coming back to me. “I’m sorry about the cup, Mrs. H. I’m having delayed reactions to things.”

“It’s alright, dear, I’ve got plenty others. Sherlock has a bad habit of breaking them.”

I smile softly, turning back to Sherlock, only to find him staring me down. Deducing me, most likely, so I brace myself for the onslaught of accusations and truths I’m not aware of.

“Why do you speak to Mrs. Hudson with such familiarity?”

I pause, nodding slowly. “That’s part of my story.”

Sherlock sighs tiredly. “Go on, then.” He stays standing as well, continuing to look me over while John sits down in his chair.

“I’m not from here.”

“Yes, I gathered that from your alarming American accent.”

Ignoring the ‘alarming’ adjective, I continue. “I’m from Ohio. The state in the U.S. Thing is, I went to sleep there last night. But I woke up about an hour ago on a bus in downtown London.” My heart is pounding in my chest, the severity of what’s happening finally settling in now that I’ve said it aloud. “Any ideas, Mr. Holmes?”

“A few,” he mutters. “Those are clearly pajamas and judging by your lack of shoes, the sleeping bit does make sense.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “What were you doing last night?”

“That’s,” I pause to chuckle. “That’s the kicker, really, because I was watching you.”

His arms fall to his sides. “I’m sorry?”

“There’s a show, on BBC, it’s called Sherlock. It’s about you and John and Mrs. Hudson,” I swallow thickly. “And Molly, and Lestrade, and Mary.”

“Mary? Who’s Mary?”

“No one,” I cover quickly, not entirely sure what I’ve done, but I know it isn’t good. It sounds ridiculous, but I must be in the world before he met Mary, so before…before the Reichenbach. “Just a random person. But my point is, it’s a TV show. I was watching it when I fell asleep last night, and I woke up on a bus here, in London. And now I’m talking to you. And you’re not supposed to exist – none of you are. You’re fictional characters. I thought when I first got here that it was a little weird, but I was coming here to see the museum. There’s supposed to be a Sherlock Holmes museum here, not this flat. This flat isn’t supposed to exist – none of it is.”

I turn in a circle, looking at everything I’ve seen over the years. I used to dream about visiting this flat – visiting the set and sitting down in John’s chair or grazing my fingers over the smiley face on the wall, but now I’m here and I don’t even want to be. Now I’m here, and this is the worst nightmare I could ever imagine.

I stop, pointing at John, my mind spinning. “You. Your name isn’t John Watson, it’s supposed to be Martin Freeman. And you,” I point at Sherlock. “Your name isn’t Sherlock Holmes, it’s supposed to be Benedict Cumberbatch.”

John laughs loudly. “What kind of a name is that?”

“You played Bilbo Baggins in The Hobbit,” I tell John—Martin. He’s Martin. “And Ian McKelpie in Whiskey Tango Foxtrot. And you,” I turn back around to Benedict. “You played Khan in Star Trek. And Alan Turing in The Imitation Game. You guys are actors.” I cover my face with my hands. “This is one weird dream. I need to wake up.” I open my eyes, looking dead at Benedict. “Punch me.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Punch me. Right now. Knock me out in here, so it’ll wake me up back home.”

“I’m not going to punch you, Miss Singleton.” He pauses. “Because I think I know what’s going on here.”

John looks as surprised as I am. “You’re serious?”

“Yes, John, I’m quite serious,” Sherlock tucks his hands behind him. “I’m at the height of my fame. You know that because we’ve been in the papers almost every day for the last month.”

“No idea where you’re going with this, Sherlock.”

“Oh, come on, open your eyes,” Sherlock cries. “Look at her outfit, look at her eyes. She’s an addict, clearly still high, and one of her delusions is that there’s a TV show starring the both of us. The TV show is incredibly popular, I’m assuming, which falls into the current pattern of my own popularity.” He turns to me. “I suggest you find your own way back home.”

“What—”

“Leave,” he points to the door. “I don’t have time to solve the delusions of an addict when there are more pressing issues on my mind.”

I stare at him, thinking maybe he’s kidding with me, but it’s clear on his face that he’s not. I look to John and he doesn’t say anything. Why would he? They don’t know who I am here. I’m not supposed to be here.

“Fine,” I mutter. “Sorry for bothering you.”

I turn and exit the flat, stepping slowly down the stairs. I let myself focus on how the wood feels beneath my bare feet, something I was too dazed to feel when I first walked up. Now I’m feeling entirely too many emotions all at once and the stairs don’t feel magical beneath my feet, they just hurt. Like a million splinters being stabbed into my skin all at once. It’s not a dream like I wanted it to be. This is a literal nightmare.

I stop at the bottom, letting my hand linger on the railing for just a moment longer. This is the first and last time I’ll ever be in 221B Baker Street and it couldn’t have gone any further from how I wanted.

“Wait!”

I ignore the voice – it’s John, but why does he care? – and pull open the front door, slamming it as I step out onto the sidewalk. I barely get past Speedy’s when I feel an arm on my shoulder, turning me around, making me face John Watson – stupid John Watson—

“What do you want?”

He removes his hand rather quickly, holding both up in surrender. “Hey, sorry.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “What?”

He hesitates, gathering his words. “Is what you said—Is it true? Is there a TV show about us?”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not having this conversation right now.” I turn around, walking down the sidewalk, and much to my dissatisfaction, John follows beside me.

“I just… I know what an addict looks like, and you’re not one. You looked too scared when I opened the door earlier and you walked around the flat like you’ve been there before—”

“You know what?” I stop walking, turning to face him. “The show – You two idiots have gotten me through the roughest points of my life, alright? I’ve watched the show over and over until I could speak Sherlock’s dialogue in perfect timing, I’ve paused scenes to examine the background, I’ve even paused scenes to try to deduce things that Sherlock doesn’t to see what piece of the puzzle he doesn’t explain. So yes, I walked in there like I’d been there before, because I feel like I have. I used to want to live in this world more than my own, but that was a mistake because now that I am here – I don’t even want to be. I just want to go home. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go throw myself off a building and hope I wake up back in my bed. In my home. Because this doesn’t feel like home anymore. And I was so stupid to think it could’ve been.”

John’s frown deepens the more that I speak, and part of me thinks I see tears in his eyes when I finish. But it doesn’t matter what I see because this isn’t real, and it never is going to be.

“Good night, Dr. Watson,” I breathe, blinking and realizing the tears I see are actually in my own eyes. I sniffle, pressure rising in my chest as I try to hold back a sob. And I can’t cry about this in front of him, so I turn and leave, biting my sleeve to keep myself under control until I turn the corner, collapsing against the building in a fit of sobs that wrack my body.

This is the biggest mess I’ve ever been in. If this is some trick the universe is trying to play on me to tell me that I had it good back home, despite the shit I went through, then that’s fine. I get it, Universe. Lesson learned. Take me back home now, please.

#tw suicide #tw mentions of suicide #tw paranoia #tw sadness #bbc sherlock #bbc sherlock fanfic #bbc sherlock fanfiction #sherlock holmes #john watson #mrs hudson #sherlock

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claptrap-stan · 5 years ago

Text

Happy Anniversary!

Or, Athena definitely doesn’t forget it’s her anniversary, and sets out to make it the best day possible.

A Jathena fic about their first anniversary, and Athena trying to figure out what that entails. If you prefer, the source will take you to the fic on AO3! Enjoy.

Athena had never been great at keeping track of the date.

Even as a bounty hunter, she’d only been aware of the passing of time because it signified how long it was taking her to finish a job. Years of Atlas training had lead something as frivolous as dates being relegated to the back of her mind, out of her way.

This was the first time it had come back to bite her.

She faltered midway through signing the piece of paper in front of her, rereading the date another three times as if that would somehow make the numbers change, but nope. That was definitely the date.

And it was definitely the date of her anniversary.

And she’d definitely forgotten.

“Is there a problem, miss?” Asked the guy holding the parcel, his voice high-pitched and nervous, and he stepped back instinctively as he spoke, as though he expected her to attack him just for asking. Which was a dumb fear, because if she attacked him he’d probably drop the package and that would just be inconvenient, but she appreciate the respect.

“No,” she said bluntly, finishing her signature and handing the clipboard back.

Technically she hadn’t forgotten, she just hadn’t been paying attention.

She was pretty sure that wasn’t a valid excuse for forgetting your own anniversary.

She took the package from the man – it was lighter than she expected – and slipped it under one of her arms as he let out a breath of relief. “Uh- thanks,” she told him, remembering Janey’s comments about her needing to be politer.

“N-no problem, ma’am!” He gave her a sharp nod, but she was already walking away, trying to think.

The to-do list Janey gave her would probably take the next few hours, and then everywhere would be closed, but if she hurried she was pretty sure she could squeeze something in to save her own ass. The problem was: what did celebrating an anniversary even involve?

Romance had never even been on her radar before meeting Janey. She’d been too busy for that, too angry, and she’d never cared enough about other people’s lives to pay any attention to that. But Janey had been in at least one other serious relationship before her, and she’d know exactly how this was supposed to work. Which left Athena with two options: try and guess how this worked, or swallow her pride and ask for help.

She decided to try guessing.

Step one: a bouquet.

She’d dealt with enough of Moxxi’s wanna-be suitors to know that giving flowers to someone was meant to be romantic. Plus, Janey tended to like anything that made the house look ‘more like an actual human lived in it’, and Athena was pretty sure plants fell into that category.

Also, they weren’t hard to find. Even as she pulled up outside the hardware shop, mentally running over the things Janey had told her to buy, she could see plants lining the pathway.

Clearly, she’d overestimated how hard this anniversary thing was going to be.

She made sure to buy all the parts first, double-checking it against the list as she fastened them to her stingray – if there was one thing Janey would prioritise over their anniversary, it was her work, and Athena wasn’t about to screw that up. As soon as they were secure, though, she turned her attention to the plants.

Most of it was boring green weed, but she pushed those aside to pull out the flowers dotted within them. It was mostly tall yellow and blue flowers that seemed to glow faintly in the shade of the building, as well as a couple of strange-looking purple tendrils that were so thick that she had to use her knife to cut the stems. Once she’d picked most of them and gotten a decently-sized handful, she used a bit of the extra twine she’d brought to hold them in place.

“Ha,” she muttered softly to herself, straightening up and brushing the dirt off her knees with her free hand. The flowers seemed to droop a little as she held them under the sun, but she figured they’d perk up eventually. Whenever people tried to give Moxxi flowers, they always seemed perky and vibrant. She’d probably just have to shove them in some more dirt when she got home, before she showed them to Janey.

Still, they looked pretty great, if she did say so herself.

Someone walking past gave her an odd look, but the second she turned towards him he ducked his head down, picking up his pace.

It took her far too long to place his face. She was getting out of practice. But still, there was no denying it – she knew exactly who he was. He’d hit on Janey last week, getting a little too handsy with her when she’d flatly turned him down. Janey had dealt with it herself, of course, kicking him straight out the building, but Athena was still pissed she hadn’t gotten her shot at him.

Now was her chance.

Her free hand was already grasping at the space where she usually she kept her shield when she realised what she was doing, and faltered.

On a normal day, she wouldn’t have hesitated. So, she left her shield at home these days – she still carried around her gun and at least two knives. She could still pretty easily take him out in the next thirty seconds.

Except that there was a reason she didn’t carry her shield around any more, and today of all days, she wanted to give Janey exactly what she wanted.

No murder. No danger. No trying to kill dicks in the middle of the street.

She could do that. It hurt, but she could let that guy speed walk his way out of her line of sight. She could do it for Janey, at least today.

And besides, she wouldn’t want to damage her flowers.

Step two: food.

During the last Valentine’s day she remembered being aware of, she’d been tracking down a target who happened to be seeing one of his employees at the time. She had a distinct memory of killing him in his kitchen when he was trying to cook a romantic meal. His boyfriend, it turned out, had been the one who hired her, but that was besides the point.

Meals were considered romantic.

As she wandered through the shopping market, she considered trying to make something for Janey. It would definitely be more personal, but every time she offered to cook, Janey seemed to develop a sudden craving for takeout. Athena had no idea what Janey’s favourite meal would even be, let alone how to cook it.

So takeout it would be, then.

She glanced at the to-do list again. The next stop would put her right next to Moxxi’s – perfect. They did food. She could head in there first to pick something up.

By the time she got to Moxxi’s, the sun was starting to set, turning the sky a deep blood red. She still had a good ninety minutes before it would be dark and Janey would start to head back, which was plenty of time. She only had one thing left on her list, after all.

The bar was emptier than she expected when she walked in, although she supposed it was pretty early. That rarely seemed to matter on Pandora, though.

Moxxi glanced up from behind the countertop as the door swung shut, her usual smirk already plastered on her face. Her expression seemed to soften just slightly as she registered who it was, not looking away as she approached the bar. Athena half wondered if she was going to overfill the drink she was pouring, but she’d known Moxxi long enough to doubt it.

“Evening, Athena,” Moxxi greeted her once she reached the bar, her usual flirtatious drawl not hiding the slight curiosity in her voice. “If you’re here looking for extra hours, you’re out of luck. Everyone’s being particularly well behaved today – unfortunately. You know I love watching you work.” Still not looking away, she slid the beer she was pouring across the countertop, straight into the waiting hand of a man sat two seats down, who grunted in response. “’Sides, sugar, don’t you think you deserve to spend some time with that lovely mechanic of yours?”

“I am,” said Athena, shifting a little. She always hated being in places like this when she wasn’t working – too many years of honing her senses had left her a little too alert. Especially when the people around her where mostly drunk. Still, she knew she was safe. She could kill everyone in this room with ease. The thought calmed her a little. “It’s our anniversary. I was actually going to buy some food.”

“Oooh, happy anniversary then, darling.” Moxxi propped a hand on her hip, her expression still not faltering. “In that case, what can I get you?”

Oh. There may have been one flaw in her plan. Usually, it was Janey who went to pick up the food. The only takeout she knew about was the old skag meat stand she used to work at, and she was pretty sure that didn’t constitute a romantic meal. Also, there was no way Moxxi sold skewered skag meat anyway.

Thankfully, the older woman noticed her hesitation, her grin growing slightly wider with amusement. “How about I make it a surprise for both of you?” She offered, leaning forward to prop her hands up on the bar, doing a bad job of suppressing the humour in her voice. Athena couldn’t really be annoyed at it, though, because it was the ideal solution.

“That works,” she said, trying to act nonchalant about it. “I have one last stop on my to-do list – can I come back afterwards for the food?”

The look in Moxxi’s eye clearly told her the act hadn’t worked, but thankfully, she didn’t question it. “Of course you can, sweetie. But first- do I get a sneak peak at Janey’s anniversary present?” She leaned further forward, her tone dropping lower. “You know I love a good lover’s present.”

“I’m actually on my way to pick up her present,” Athena lied through her teeth, giving herself barely half a second of thought. “But, no, it’s, uh- private.” Nobody had ever mentioned anything about gifts what kind of gift was she even meant to get and where the hell was she meant to find it-

“But those are the best kind of presents,” said Moxxi, putting on a tone of faux-sadness, before breaking her charade and smiling. “Fine, go and get your missus her present. Your food will be waiting here when you get back.”

“Thank you,” said Athena, and this time it came more naturally to her than with the delivery guy. Still, she thought, as she made her way to the exit of the bar. This was a problem.

Step three: the gift.

Really, Athena should’ve expected this. No good plan had ever only had two steps. And honestly, everything she’d been doing so far seemed to be focused on giving something. An actual gift seemed like the obvious conclusion.

Not that that hindsight helped her now.

She tried to glance around the shop as she hefted up two cartons of washer fluid, so focused on looking for any potential presents that she ignored the worker trying to offer her help, but she couldn’t see anything that would work. It was all machine-based fluid; oil and water and different coloured liquids she couldn’t identify filling the rows of shelves.

Which was completely useless to her.

She must’ve looked pretty pissed, because the guy who rang her up looked like he was waiting for her to lose it at him, but she couldn’t be bothered trying to school her features into a ‘nicer’ expression. He’d live. She had bigger things to worry about.

She continued to scan the area even as she lugged the cartons outside, as if she was going to find the perfect present just sitting on one of the benches ready for her to take.

There was a little skag pup foraging in one of the bins, and Janey had been suggesting they get a pet, but Athena was pretty sure she hadn’t meant a skag. Unfortunately. She knew the weapons shop across the streets sold some nice daggers, but that had never really been Janey’s style. The ammo shop was useless, and she didn’t have any Eridium on her to hit up the black market – not that Janey would want her to do that anyway.

She fixed the washer fluid to the stingray and then leaned against it trying to think. There was the half-crumbling pub, which was useless to her, the bakery, the sweet shop, the café-

The sweet shop.

The sweetest thing Athena enjoyed was the Atlas lattes, and she hadn’t been able to have them in- a long time. Janey, on the other hand, rarely drank something more bitter than her hot malted milk, and had an almost ridiculous sweet tooth.

Athena started walking towards it immediately, relief flooding her the second she realised it was open. Were chocolates a kind of lame gift? Probably. Did she have the time to worry? A quick glance at her watch told her no, she didn’t. Besides, maybe the flowers and the meal would even it out.

At least, she hoped it would. The second she stepped into the shop, she was hit by the almost overwhelming vibrant packages that lined every shelf. It looked like something big and colourful had puked in it. Even the smell was almost sickeningly sweet, like chocolate and fruit and sugar all mixed into one.

She tried not to wrinkle her nose as she grabbed the nearest heart-shaped box of chocolates. She probably could’ve spent all night looking for the perfect one, but right now, time was of the essence, and she figured that was romantic enough.

She half threw the box at the cashier in her impatientness.

She made it home just twenty minutes before Janey was due back, and ran in as fast as she could, dumping everything not-anniversary-related in the corner of the garage. She could deal with that later.

Instead, she filled a bowl with dirt from outside and placed it on the kitchen sink, shoving the flowers into it. “There, now you can perk up a little,” she muttered as she covered the roots, a slightly threatening tone entering her voice.

Then she switched her attention to the food. Moxxi had packaged into heat proof boxes for her, so all she had to do was put it on the plates. The hostess hadn’t held back – one of the boxes contained a variety of vegetables, the other a huge piece of roasted pork. She tried to arrange them on the plate as nicely as she could manage, although she didn’t really know what constituted as ‘nice’ in this situation.

She’d only just decided it was good enough when she heard the front door swing open, followed by the sound of Janey announcing herself.

“In the kitchen!” Athena called back, quickly turning scoop the flowers up and shove the bowl of dirt under the sink, out of sight. They hadn’t perked up that much, but she thought they still looked fine. She grabbed the chocolates with her free hand and hid them both behind her back just as Janey walked in, holding a paper bag.

The mechanic faltered as she saw the table, surprise flickering across her face. “Wow, Athena-“

“Happy anniversary,” interrupted Athena, holding out the chocolates and the flowers. For a second, Janey paused, looking awed, but then she seem to come back to herself and quickly made her way across the room, dropping the bag on one of the counters.

“Thank you,” she said, taking the gifts and smiling. “And happy anniversary to you, too.” She put the chocolates down on the side and pressed a quick kiss to Athena’s cheek. “I wasn’t expecting anything like this – I know you aren’t good with dates, so I figured you’d probably miss it-“

“Never,” said Athena, smoothly, and Janey smiled again.

“Well, I’m sorry I doubted you. This- this is amazing. Just- let me put these in some water before we dig into the food, okay?” She turned towards the cupboard before freezing halfway through reaching for it. “Uh,” she twisted back slightly, looking curiously concerned. “The food. Where-“

“It came from Moxxi’s,” said Athena, brightly. Seeing Janey happy filled her with a sense of relief. Why had she been so nervous before? Clearly, she was a master at this stuff. “You’ve never mentioned what kind of food you’d like me to cook, so I figured it was safer. Why?”

“No reason. No reason at all.” She was fairly sure she saw relief on Janey’s face as the latter finally turned to grab a glass, although she couldn’t imagine why.

She watched as Janey filled the glass with water before setting it on the side and carefully placing the flowers in it. Water. Of course. Why had she gone with dirt?

Still, they looked great, so it was fine.

Janey turned back to her with a grin. “I got you a present too, of course – although it’ll have to wait until after this meal.”

“Why?” Asked Athena, raising her eye brow. “Is it more food?”

“Well.” Janey leaned back slightly and buried her hand in the bag she’d brought in. “It involves eating something.” She pulled her hand back out and held up- a bath bomb. “But first, we’d have to take a bath.”

Athena glanced at the bag, which still clearly had something in it.

She was 90% sure she could guess what it was.

“I like baths,” was all she said, before looping her fingers through Janey’s belt loops and pulling her close enough that she could kiss her easily, which of course she did. Janey nearly dropped the bath bomb as she fumbled, but she managed to place it on the side before burying her fingers in Athena’s hair and kissing her back, pushing hard enough to press the later into the side.

“I specifically said we have to wait until after we’ve eaten,” mumbled Janey, but she didn’t want to break the kiss, leaning even further into it. Athena hummed softly against her lips.

“Okay, sure. We will,” she promised, also not breaking the kiss.

They probably never would’ve split apart if it wasn’t for the hacking cough sound that came from behind Athena, catching both of their attentions. There was a pause as they turned in surprise to look.

“Athena,” began Janey, her voice almost deceptively calm. “Did your flowers just spit acid at the wall?”

Oh.

Maybe Athena wasn’t the master of anniversaries after all.

#borderlands #borderlands the pre sequel #bltps #athena #janey springs #jathena #borderlands fanfic #borderlands fic #tps #tales from the borderlands #tftbl #mine

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suicidalcatz · 5 years ago

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DOG DAYS ARE OVER : CHAP 5

AN: Hello frens! Are you having a nice sunday? In this chapter we exchange some texts. But also we make fun of Josh just because. In the next chapter, things get complicated between the three of you... I hope you’ll like it. Please feel free to comment or send me prompts!

Pairing : Jake Kiszka x Reader

Genre : College AU

Previous parts : Prologue ; Chap 1 ; Chap 2 ; Chap 3 ; Chap 4

Masterlist : here

Chapter five : New number, who dis ?

Packing never made me feel weird before. It was friday afternoon so a majority of students were going home or, like me, to their parents' place for the week end. Most of the time I'd stay in my dorm with Mandy because we had so much homework there was no point coming home at all. I already knew for a fact that I'll be locked up in my room all week end painting, drawing, and cutting paper, but I promised I'd see them since it has been a while. My parents' cooking and comfy house usually made me impatient but not this time. I knew the boys were staying on campus because they lived far away, and it gave me mixed feelings. Part of me longed for Jake, and the feeling of his touch on my wrist was still so vivid I sometimes got the impression his hand was still here. On the other hand, he and Josh were big family guys, and seeing them missing their home so much while I was reluctant to see mine made me feel like a spoiled brat. That's why instead of calling to tell my parents I wasn't coming home this week end either, I went home to enjoy every bit of it.

My mom had already made my favorite dish, and dad was excitedly chatting about this new movie he saw on tv the other day. It felt good, I could allow myself to relax a little, take a bath, hang out with some friends for an hour or two after finishing an assignment.

Sitting at my desk, I dropped the pen and stretched my back, falling back onto the chair and looking at my work. I did good this week, so the teacher didn't make me redo any of my assignments, which was very fortunate because I still had a flyer design to create. I unfolded that one Jake gave to me and took a look at all the infos, preparing a draft of my first idea. Why they didn't let the Illustration department do the visual com design was a mystery. By the look of it I bet it was the Music and Architecture dudes who made it. There was a bunch of band names thrown in the middle, what looked like a pixelled stock image of a Santa hat in a corner, « with beer ! » in a really ugly comic bubble in another, and the worst was that they though Comic Sans was an acceptable font choice. Unbelievable. That's why we can't let Architecture dudes do anything.

Creating a decent design took me a solid two hours, which was way faster than I planned. Getting up, I studied it from a distance, looking for flaws. It wasn't the best I could've done but it was pretty cool and not printed with neon yellow paper. For now, I'll rest my head for a bit and see if I can sketch the few more ideas I came up with later on. Feeling proud of my work, I took a picture to send it to Jake. It was dark and quiet outside, and one glance at the clock confirmed my thoughts on how late it was already. Biting my lower lip, I struggled. Maybe he was sleeping.

I never texted him since he gave me his number. I mean he gave it to me so we could talk about the flyers, right ? I would've been uneasy using it for another reason. Pondering whether of not I should maybe wake him up, I started pacing in my room, tidying and touching things, stuff I did when I was nervous. My arm still had some black marker on it, faded shapes and symbols vaguely resembling numbers, like an old letter with smudged ink and discolored paper. At first I didn't wanted to wash it off. Mandy and I got so excited by it we cheered together right after school, and classmates seemed intrigued by it. The cold weather didn't allow me to show too much skin so it could look like a tattoo, or a hot guy gave me his number (which was technically true). It could look like I just wrote it myself, but it was totally lame so I didn't want to think about it. Although I really enjoyed that empowering feeling of being someone's interest, at least a little, I scrubbed it hard the same evening. I didn't know if Josh was aware of it and couldn't raise suspicion in case he wasn't. It looked like we were doing something bad, and maybe we were, I had no clue. Guys had that weird rule regarding friends dating brothers and according to Netflix romcoms I was walking on thin fucking ice so I wasn't taking any risks. To be honest I don't think Josh would mind us talking but Jake seemed like a secretive guys so if he told Josh then I'll talk about it and otherwise, I won't. I'll just go with the flow and follow his lead on this, it was safer.

It was almost 2AM when I sent the pic and left my room to get a nice cup of tea/coffee after all these efforts. By the time I got back I had one new message.

« Hi to you too »

I felt my heart jump a little when I saw his name at the top of the screen, and his first text made me smile. I got so pumped by all these design ideas that I forgot to tell him it was me. The picture made it clear enough, though, but maybe it was a bit rude of me. Taking a sip of hot tea/coffee before putting the mug on the night table, I sat on the bed, eyes still on my phone, thinking of an answer. It took me maybe too long because I kept on rereading it to be sure I wouldn't embarrass myself with a typo.

« Hi, sorry. So what do you think ? »

The phone was threwn on the blankets and I turned on the tv to make me think of something else than his future reply. Saying that I was confident would be half-true. The design was good or so I thought so, but then again tastes were all too subjectives and art was tricky. He had all the right to hate it, I wouldn't take it personally (well at least not a hundred percent...). Idly watching a re-run of some old sitcom, I continued to quietly empty my cup and switch channels without really paying attention when I heard my phone buzz and let everything down to grab it.

« I got to admit you were right, our flyers sucked, this one looks fantastic »

And maybe my cheeks started turning pink. Compliments on my art meant a lot, more than those on my personnality or physic. It was really rewarding to have someone enjoy something you created from your own hands. It felt better than any other flattery, so the reply came naturally.

« I'm so glad you like it. I had a few more ideas in stock just in case »

His next message came so fast this time that I didn't even put down my phone yet when I felt it vibrate in my palm.

« Thank you for this, I really appreciate it. I'll owe you one. »

His sweet personality made a smile spread across my face. I took the flyer in my hand again, studying it. The number of bands playing this day was surprisingly high. Some of them I knew because I either heard people talk about it, or knew the guys playing. One especially because they kept rehearsing their rap lyrics in the dorms for everybody to enjoy, which I didn't since they started loudly singing at three in the morning and ignored all my complaints about the noise of their boombox. But most of the bands, no, I didn't know. I continued watching intently the names of the bands playing as if I'll have an epiphany and guess which was Jake's. Giving up, I took my phone again to tap.

« Don't sweat it, I'm glad to help. So... which one are you... ? »

Again, the reply was faster than the first texts we exchanged, despite the late hour.

« You mean the band ? Guess you'll have to come and find out »

I raised an amused eyebrow at this. Getting cocky, aren't we ?

« Alright then, Mister Mysterious, I'll wait and see. »

« You won't regret it. », replied Jake, and for some reason my face started heating up again.

We didn't speak for several minutes, I didn't know what to say now that the topic was closed, and I had nothing to add to it. Switching channels and drinking tea/coffee didn't gave me much help either, at this hour it was either old re-runs, or tv shopping. My eyes looked at the digital alarm clock, and it was almost three in the morning. That's how I knew what to write next.

« I just thought about it, but didn't I wake you up ? »

He was fast as ever again this time, probably wide awake and without anything to do.

« No, don't worry. Rehearsing with my brothers. I'm taking a break until Sam and Josh stop arguing and find a compromise for the new song. Our friend Danny's being the peace keeper once again, I left him alone on the battlefield and went out for a smoke. »

The war metaphor made me chuckle lightly, causing my imagination to run wild. The thought went through my mind that I couldn't believe they would argue, but since they were brothers it was normal I guess, even if they seemed pretty close. Close enough to form a band together at least. I never saw Josh angry, but he had a very vivid temperament, so it wasn't really much of a surprise either. My mind wandered a bit, and I briefly wondered how Jake looked in a heated argument. Probably hot, but also intimidating. He had that kind of quiet aura that seemed like it could become suddenly agitated, like a spotless watercourse that got troubled by the rain or rocks that ricocheted on it. I couldn't explain it, but it was how my limited knowledge of him perceived it.

My phone buzzed again, and this time it was a picture that made me snort in the ugliest way possible. It was a very unflattering close up of a moody and clearly unamused Josh who looked like he was in the middle of scolding Jake for doing whatever he did that got him upset. More of it came, one after the other, for my greatest amusement, and by looking at them in order I could see his actions and movements, like a flipbook of ugly pictures of an angry Josh wearing a colorful dyed t shirt and ample pants that I assumed were his pajamas. The last one got me shaking with laughter, poor Josh looked awful, in a middle of what I assumed was a menacing speech for Jake to stop his bullshit, with an eye half closed and his mouth stuck the weirdest twist of the lips humanly possible. I saved this one as blackmail material, might be helpful in the future.

I didn't even know what to respond to that, they all radiated such chaotic energy it was splendid. Jake was quicker, and sent me a text this time, saying Josh threw his slipper at his face and that he was lucky he hadn't had the tambourine in his hands at that moment.

« I guess rehearsal is over for today, hopefully they'll make up their minds about the song tomorrow. Thanks again for the flyers, see you on monday, we'll print them. »

I never knew I'd be that impatient to go back to school before meeting him.

#gvf fic #gvf x reader #gvf imagine #gvf fanfic #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka imagine #josh kiszka fic #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet imagine #greta van fleet #jake kiszka

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chasinganecdotes · 5 years ago

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Wilson’s Paperbacks

Andrew reached across the gap between the awnings, his outstretched hand catching the rainfall, waiting for me to twine my fingers with his. We were stuck between the Italian market and a fragrance boutique that smelt of lavender honey, a wall of torrent separating the break in the alleyway. The late summer storm had lit up the sky in sticky purple lights, erupting into cleaves of thunder that pulsed through the air as fast as the heart beating against my chest. Droplets of rain had opened up on us, suddenly and without warning, as we walked through the streets of Old Town, laughing over nothing in particular. It was the kind of rain that made your skin shiver, cold and wet. Even with the muggy Virginia air, I could feel it soaking through my jacket and down into my bones.

“If we make a run for it, the shop is less than two minutes,” Andrew said, a loose grin hanging off his lips, as if being caught in a thunderstorm was all according to plan. He gripped my hand just a fraction tighter. “Okay?”

“Okay,” I grinned back.

He tugged me forward, out from under the awning and into the street. A merciless downpour drummed over us, soaking us in their music of reverberating crescendos that made our run feel like dancing. My feet glided through the puddles, splashing up the faded and forgotten notes onto my bare legs and, just then, I knew that this moment with him would never leave my skin. The rain hit us everywhere as we ran, slow and fast all at once, and I could barely see through the thick of it. Hazy lights from the lampposts lined a trail down the sidewalks, just enough to guide the way down the desolate streets, as if we were the only two people left in the world. Old Town was usually bustling with aged wealth’s scouring for antiques or young musicians wailing over their fledgling dreams in the dead of night. It was never quiet or lonely. But tonight, it was as if the entire town had gone to sleep just as I was waking up.

We had run four blocks by the time the yellow painted bricks of Wilson’s Paperbacks glowed through the night, the only storefront in the line of colonials that didn’t boast its dilapidation. The wooden sign, hooked through a loose bit of rail hammered through a nook in the bricks, flailed helplessly in the wind, banging against the door with a force that sent echoes down the street. Golden paint clung to the droplets of rain and ran rivers down the wood, as if the words had just been retraced. The letters cracked and already faded, I knew that by tomorrow’s dawn Andrew would already be back with a brush in his hand.

Andrew fumbled through the keys, his fingers shaking with cold as he tried each key one by one in the lock. The store had four doors, each painted in various shades of pastel that bore a different combination of locks from the rest. The books inside were a treasure, Mr. Wilson had said, that contained enough gold to make even the lowliest beggar rich as a king. He wouldn’t make it easy for the pirates who sought out that treasure, even if it was his own son.

“You should paint those damn keys, you know,” I laughed just as Andrew pushed through the door, falling into the frame as he tugged me over the threshold. Laughter rolled through my belly, soft and electric as he locked the door close, his hand still gripping my wrist. Water dripped off our clothes in heavy rivulets, running rivers down through the cracks in the hardwood that would probably strip the finish off, but for all the havoc in the world, I couldn’t bring myself to care. A slow grin twitched at the corners of Andrew’s mouth, so innocent and lovely that my breath caught in my throat.

The store was hushed save for the pitter patter of the thundering sky against the shingles, a clamor that rippled through the silence. For a moment it was louder than the flight of my heart against my chest, the laughter dying in that space that at once had become both too intimate and not enough. The brandy of his eyes swallowed up, contracting under the weight of his pupils as they traced over the cotton wrapped tightly to the curves of my chest. It was as if he was searching for my soul, seeing down through my flesh and my bones into that flicker of light that burned with my every breath.

Andrew ran his fingers through the thicken of tangles in his drying hair, pulling his eyes away to the quiet store room. “Let me just go grab some towels. You’ll catch pneumonia with that wet head.”

I bit the bottom of my lip, nodding. His footsteps echoed against the hardwood and I listened to them rip through the life of the loose boards until they faded into the silence. I shrugged out of my coat, careful not to shake water onto the stack of paperbacks on the floor that were leaning over like a mountain that has grown too close to gravity, and hook it onto the rack behind the door. The books lined the hallway in stacks that made it hard to walk through, disappearing into the shelves as if they were roots extended from a tree. They were the breath of the world and I followed them as if I were gasping for air, so utterly awed by the sheer quantity of them. My footfall was careful, hesitant, because for some reason I felt as though I were entering a sacred space. I had walked this hallway so many times before, but there was something so heavy in this silence that I felt to break it would be to shatter the whole world.

I traced my fingers along the spines, dragging my nails over the creases and the withered skeleton of pages. Some had come loose from the binding, the pages shoved in place, like a tree shedding its autumn leaves, while others still clung to their crisp new life. Not a single book was wrapped in a thick cardboard shell. Mr. Wilson had always admired the art of the paperback, the way the years wrinkled and bruised their skin. “We often wear down the things we love,” he had said, “until we know them from their heart and not the skin they bear. You can read a book once and love it, sure. But it isn’t until you’ve read those words a thousand times over that you may truly know the heart behind them.”

I wondered if that is true of people as well.

The shelves opened up into a nook with old fabric couches pushed close together, circled around a coffee table that had loose leaves of notes and post-its stuck haphazardly to the wood. An open fire place crackled low in the darkness, Andrew crouched at the edge, stoking it with an iron rod. I watched as the flames cast an orange glow over his face, bending shadows in and out of his eyes. He looked over his shoulder at me and pointed towards the couch closest to him.

“I laid a towel out for you. It’s kinda old and scratchy, but it was the only one I could find.”

I picked up the towel, which was thin and faded with yellow daisies stitched into the cloth, and ringed it over my hair and arms. It didn’t do much for the goosebumps though. I scooted closer to the fire, just a shoulder bump away from Andrew, and let the warmth sink into me. There was a picture frame on the mantelpiece of Mr. Wilson and a boyhood version of Andrew in a baseball uniform, their arms looped around each other. Andrew was smiling, his two front teeth missing, and Mr. Wilson was looking down at him, caught in the middle of a word or a sentence. Mr. Wilson would have said there was something poetic about that, how we’re always caught in the middle of something.

“Do you miss him?” I whispered, thinking about how Mr. Wilson, too, had been caught in the middle of something.

Andrew stared into the fire, the flames glazing over his eyes again. “Yeah, I do. It’s like he’s still here though, yaknow? Like I can feel him walking through the shelves. He loved this place.” He paused for a moment, then said, “Bet you didn’t take me for a baseball guy, huh?”

“I thought you were more the angsty, broodish type.”

“Ah, then I suppose you must go back and reread the book again,” he said, mimicking his father. He reached for my hand and pulled me closer, so that I was facing him. This was the closest we had ever been on purpose. “Caroline Mathers, we are surrounded here by all these books and I do believe I have never asked what your favorite novel is.”

“The Great Gatsby,” I said, my breath half caught in my throat. He was still holding my hand, which was kind of sweaty, and the fire was warming my skin even though it was already warm from where he touched it. “I feel like I can relate to Gatsby.”

“How so?” The glow in his eyes dimmed for just a moment and I felt like there was this depth to them, this unseen spiral of color that didn’t happen in blue or green eyes. I could see myself reflected in their darkness, stripped down and raw before him. I felt as though what I said next mattered, that if my words were a poem, Andrew would memorize every line.

“Because I think a lot about the past. I think a lot about how I might have done things differently, and if I had, how it would’ve changed my path. Would I be a different person or would I be the same? There are so many versions of myself, of who I could’ve been or what I could’ve done.”

The words began to let loose from me, as if they had always been there, on the tip of my tongue. The weight of Andrew’s gaze made each word feel diaphanous, like he could see right through me. I looked away, following the curve of his neck to where his collarbones disappeared beneath the collar of his t-shirt. The fabric clung to his skin, the ghost of finely corded muscles along his torso stark under the parts where his shirt was still damp. Hard lines defined the space just below his belly button, a triangle of skin peaking out just above the strap of his boxers. Even that made me become too aware of my own body, so I opted for staring into the flames, watching them curve into one another like waltzers amid a loop of dance.

“Gatsby feared nothing but the future,” I continued. “Time isn’t circular, but more of a linear to and fro. He was always going into the past, never really changing, never really being anything but this one version of himself.” I paused, watching as one of the logs in the fire shifted, sending up a crackle of flying embers. “And sometimes I’m afraid that this version of me, the one who thinks about the past, is all I’ll ever be.”

“I think this version of you is fine,” Andrew whispered, tightening his grip around my fingers before slowly releasing them. “In fact, I quite like it.”

I looked at him then, a slight murmur echoing through my body. He was quite beautiful and, for a moment, I had the urge to trace him, to sketch the details of his face and preserve them on paper, though I know I could never capture every perfect detail. The way his eyes crinkled even when he wasn’t laughing and how his lashes casted shadows over his eyes. The stubble along his jaw, dark and scattered unevenly along the planes of his cheeks. The freckles that form little constellations across his skin or the scar that valleys into the corner of his lips. No, my pen could never catch these things up close. Even if I outlined every inch of skin, the memory would never amount to the real thing.

Andrew took a step toward me, leaning down over me so that our foreheads almost touched.

“‘We shall not cease from exploration. And the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.’”

“What is that from?”

“T.S. Elliot, a friend of Fitzgerald,” he breathed, skimming his finger across the ridge of my collarbone, his thumb pressing into the vein pulsing at just the base of my neck. There was only one layer between his skin and my skin, but the heat of his palm made me feel as if I was already naked. “Little Gidding.” His finger looped under the hem of my dress collar. “It’s about the timelessness of the present moment.” His lips hovered over mine, so close that I could feel his breath fall heavy in the air. “And also, I think the old bastard was just trying to get laid.”

An entire instance, just one breath and one look and one touch, and I knew that I was in love with him. It wasn’t some miraculous realization or anything, nothing that demanded to be noticed by the universe. But it was a whisper that echoed through my heart, as if it had always been there and was just waiting for me to uncover it. These books and this room and this store would never look the same because everywhere would just be a memory of him. The world tends to look different when you’re seeing it through the ghost of someone else.

I ran my hand down his chest, suddenly needing to feel him closer, and circled my fingers beneath the hem of his shirt, lifting it over his head. Golden skin gilded the planes of his chest, the subtle chisels that curved into thin muscle dipping down the slope of his belly, forged ethereal and eternal. I let my palm rest in that small space, stealing the warmth that radiated over his skin, from his heart. His eyes shuttered close and he inhaled deeply, the sharp intake of breath tickling my own lips. I tilted my head up ever so slightly, catching his kiss in just a brush, a moment of hesitation. Then his lips came crashing down over mine, messy and tongue-tied like the sea rising to meet the shore. His arms circled around my back, his nails raking into the fabric of my dress, pulling the buttons loose. For a moment my body stiffened, frightened to expose myself to him. No one had ever seen my body so intimately, and I was afraid of how my own skin might look to him.

Andrew pulled back, sensing the rigidness collecting on my spine. “Is this okay? We don’t have- I can stop, I can-”

I covered his words under another wave of kissing, letting the dress fall down my shoulders, slipping around my ankles. “We shall not cease from exploration,” I quoted back at him.

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swords-guns-blogs · 7 years ago

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One Year Later

Oh, hi there! You may recognize me as a cute cuddly version of your favorite regenerative degenerate. "Hello Deadpool", if you will. If you keep up with those old fashioned paper "kah-micks" that come out month to month, you're probably realizing this is what we in the biz like to call the re-cap page. Because let's face it! Life happens! Sometimes you're all set to write a bunch of replies that help shape a beautiful story about an idiot and his dream of owning a boat and then sometimes you fall off the face of the Earth for an entire year. Point being, it happens, but the story must go on!

Right... The story. Where exactly where we again? Hold on a sec, I need to reread this myself. Don't go anywhere, it'll just take me a seco-JEEZ THEY WRITE A LOT. Entire paragraphs?! Come on. What happened to the good 'ol days when they placed all of their replies in 140 characters or less? I mean the occasional TwitLonger was fine, but this is going to take me forever! [Now might be a good time to reintroduce the "laws" of how you present yourself, Wade]

Nice thinking, Boxy! You see, this is all taking place on a website teenage girls use to blog about their favorite porn and TV show GIFs. [That's not even remotely wh-] And I've been able to take advantage of these blogs and their rich text editors to really convey all the craziness that goes in my noggin. You'll notice that right now, everything is just plain text! Real free form stuff, no fancy bold or italicized effects. This is just me, talking to you [The reader]. Yeah that's right. I actually understand all of this nonsense. I'm well aware that this one guy writes for me [In his image sometimes] and his Canadian sister from another mister is the only one who reads the replies [Bless her]. You might notice the occasional enclosed bracket segment in my monologue as well. Well that's just my thoughts. Now I know what you're thinking, "Wade, I thought these were already your thoughts? Just voiced towards me, the reader?" Well they are! The boxes are just my OTHER thoughts! Sometimes there's only the one [I'm the voice of reason], sometimes I bring in a second one {I like a little crazy!} and if you ever see the dreaded third... It'll be too late for you. I think that just about covers everything! [Actions?] Speak way louder than words, agreed. Especially since these type of words have no sound to them. [... sigh Actions like that. The bold text.] OH! Right! Given how ridiculous my speech is in word form, my lovely writer is fond of using bold words to represent the story. You can consider this when he truly takes over, I don't typically have much say or control of what torture he places on me. {Like the time he blew your nuts off and made you a teenage girl?} Ha, Classic Austin. [You done yet?] Oh yeah, I scarfed the last one down in the middle of all that explaining. [Not lunch, you idiot! The recap. Did you read it all yet?] Eh. I'm gonna wing it. [Oh boy] inhales Maximum Effort. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ Wade pressed his shoulder against the frame of the wooden porch as he stared out at the morning sun. It was just peaking over for the first time, the pink tones of the clouds only helped the orange of the sun appear to be more vibrant. As a few birds landed on the soft ground in front of the two-story yellow ranch house, a smile crept onto Wade's face. Closing his eyes, Wade took a moment to appreciate the calm sounds of the country air, the birds below picking for worms, and with one deep inhale he took in all of the scents that the warm cup of coffee he had just brewed. As he opened his eyes, he couldn't help but feel that life was just better this way. No worries, no regrets, just a large plot of land, several rows of seasonal crops, a few farm animals to provide the necessities, and of course, her. Wade stepped off the porch and onto the brown stairs that led him to the ground. The birds turned and scurried off to a new patch of grass as Wade walked by. With their new home and new lives came one extra amenity, an amazing view. It had become a morning tradition for Wade, to walk the land that he had cultivated with his bare hands, only to end up at the edge of the mountain the home sat upon. As he pushed through waves of Corn Stalk, Wade couldn't help but turn his head when a couple of crow's began to 'Kaw', that's when he laid eyes on an old familiar face. They had realized really early on that their bird friends were going to take their fair share of the land, so to combat against those Crows who weren't as brave, Wade had built a scarecrow. Standing taller than the stalks of corn, Wade looked up at his old suit and mask. It had been stuffed to the brim with hay and nailed to a board as to give the impression of it being a real person, a Deadpool Scarecrow. No matter what the circumstances were, it always put a smile on his face to see his old work uniform in such display. As he moved past the corn and onto the lettuce patches and tomato vines, Wade could see it. The breathtaking view that had made their decision to move here so easy. You could see the country side for miles, deep rolling hills filled in with lush vegetation and tree lines. Two rivers ran through towards the bottom of the mountain and when it rained, they would always echo the valley with sounds of clean and pure running water. And on the top of all the tree's, just barely peeking over, was that vibrant orange sun. Wade took another drink from his mug, as he let the warm liquid sit in his mouth for an extra second, he tried to take a moment and truly appreciate what his life had turned into. To appreciate all the hard work they had put into their new home. To appreciate the risk, the reward, the fright of change, and the fruits of labor. As his eyes opened back up and he downed the coffee, Wade's ears perked as he heard the front door open up. His head turned back to the house as he spotted her walking out onto the porch, the special cup of coffee he had made just for her in hand. As she leaned over the side of the porch, Wade couldn't help but give a big goofy wave from all the way on the edge of the land. With a smile plastered to his face, he started the walk back to her. No matter how many times they had repeated this exact scenario, Wade never got tired of this feeling. Each step was agony and bliss, as he was forced to be without and her but slowly grew closer. The sooner he had his arms wrapped around her the better. Wade disappeared through the back end of the corn stalks and within a few moments he had emerged the other side using a path he had made forever ago, this always made them both laugh. As Wade stepped out from the corn stalk, he heard her voice "Hello, my love". Wade stopped dead in his tracks. ...Her voice. It wasn't... her voice. That voice was cold... He had heard it before, but not in such a long time... His body was frozen, he couldn't move if he had wanted... So she moved him herself. Wade felt a magical force begin to twist his head, forcing his eyes to turn back to the corn stalks. Soon enough his feet and body followed the magical suggestions, until he was entirely facing the stalks. Her dark magic didn't stop there, one by one each corn stalk began to slowly turn black. Starting at the base of the plant, a black color began to take over and destroy the plant. When the entire stalk had been taken over in darkness, it disappeared into ash, catching itself in the wind. As more and more stalks began to vanish into ash, a hazy black fog began to form. Wade tried to turn his head, he tried to take a step backwards, but he just couldn't. That's when the darkness started to form, enough stalk had vanished that he could make out the Deadpool Scarecrow in the middle of the field and standing next to it was the bone chilling voice he had heard just moments ago. Stepping out from behind the red uniform, covered in ash herself, was none other than Lady Death. Her robe and hair blended in with the dark ash that swirled around the air, only her bright white bones were visible. She had a loving smile on her face as she watched the vegetation die off, her hand drifted along with the wind, taking in every moment. It was as if she was looking at her own impressive mountain view. Only less trees and rivers and there was no vibrant orange sun peaking over... Wade was screaming internally, to the top of his mental lungs. His only thought was the woman behind him... Even if he could turn back and see her, something told him she wasn't there anymore. This was a beautiful dream shifting into a horrid nightmare. "You've made quite the home for yourself, Wade... I always thought this would be the life we would share one day." Wade snarled, again internally, his body was still frozen. No matter how hard he tried to move backwards, he couldn't. Oddly enough, trying all his options, Wade noticed he could move forward. But he was fighting it with everything in his soul. "Well don't just stand there, silly. Get over here!" With a sickening grin, she snapped her fingers. Wade's stomach dropped as he felt his body moving in one fluid motion. Despite being motionless, his frozen frame dug against the dirt and slowly made its way to Death's side. "Wade... I'm getting the feeling you don't want to be with me. Please... Don't tell me there's someone else." Wade felt his head drop, he was losing hope, and her words only made him worry more. "Oh, Wade... I don't think I ever felt your emotions this strongly..." Her tone began to grow slightly more agitated. "...I thought I knew what your love felt like, but this..." She let out a exhaustive sigh, growing tired with what she was discovering. She walked closer to Wade, grabbing his jaw with her hand. "You don't think you of all people are /that/ lucky, do you Wade? You don't get this kind of ending." Her tone was shifting from that of anger to that of seduction as she took a moment of her own to appreciate the sweat of fear and regret dripping off the man. "Oh... I missed you, my love. Why you ever thought you could replace me with her is beyond me. What does she have that I don't? Life? I can fix that." Wade brought began to hold the weight of his head again. His body was bound by her dark magic to not allow movement, but he was starting to shake with rage. "Oh no... Are you afraid of what might happen to her? Don't worry. I'll make it painless for her. I know, Lady Luck personally, she won't mind getting this one off her plate." Wade's shaking grew more and more violent, his body breaking through the dark magic. As he watched her hands begin to form another "snap" he managed to reach out and grab her by the wrist. He tried to speak, but it was like she had filled his voice box with few kitchen knives. Fighting through the pain he mustered out a pitiful "...No" Death locked eyes with him, her snarky smile fading for a brief moment only to come back stronger. "My love... You're so blind. Don't worry, I will make this right." She goes to snap her fingers again, but Wade has now latched onto her hand. "...I said... NO." Wade lets out a primal scream as he bends back her fingers hearing a few loud cracks. Death stands, unaffected, her smile fading away as she scanned the area around them. The ash from the corn stalk had moved throughout the entire plot of land, darkening it to the point where black was all you could see. Her smile was now a disappointing frown, her time had ran out. "...You can't save her forever. She can't save you either, Wade, luck doesn't work like that. I will ensure our future, my love. You're leaving me for now, but I promise, Wade... I will see you very soon." Wade dropped to his knees as he felt the dark magic exit his body in one fluid departure. Immediately Wade gets to his feet and turns to back to the house, but it's surrounded in darkness. His first attempt is to run towards where the house would be, but after running a few hundred feet it was apparent that he wasn't going to make it anywhere... He had seen this movie before. [Deadpool 2, in theaters now] Wade dropped his head once more as he waited for it to happen... The only thing on his mind was how real and lifelike this had all felt. How this dream was nothing more than that, a dream... Wade would've given anything to be back on that farm, with her. ~~~~~~~ "...I'm sorry, Dom" Wade eyes slowly opened, everything was blurry and he had a headache from hell. His body was still rocking back and forth from the repelling device that was attached to the top of the elevator shaft. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he could see a rusty nail sticking out of the wall, and it was covered in blood. That probably explains why he could feel a large amount of blood at the bottom of his mask. In reality, Wade had impaled himself on the nail of the elevator shaft, he had been out for sometime and had just now made it back to the land of the living. For Domino, the big red moron had just given her a few minutes of peace and quiet... For Wade, he had been living a dream and all he wanted to do was go back.

[...I ...He ...Oh my, God.]

Wade was silent. Oddly so. It was obvious he was moving and functioning again, but it was just so unlike him not to bust into a Cher song upon regaining consciousness. Instead, he kept to himself, grabbed the rope from the repeal device and started climbing to the top where Dom was waiting. For whatever reason, he couldn't meet her eye line. Instead he climbed through to the next level and readied his guns. “...Snap out of, buddy. That got a little too real.”

#Feels good to be back #Marvel RP #Deadpool #Domino #Farm life

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elfstuck · 7 years ago

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War in the Chessfields

I have realized that, no matter how busy my life gets (guys, guuuuuyzzz, it’s Night of the Nocturne right now and I could be searching for Strange Chests that might contain the new Smirch gene!), I really need to get farther along in Homestuck because it’s starting to creep into mainstream politics. (He was told about Homestuck, and then he started reading it.) Also, Chibipaw says there is “good stuff’ coming up soon (that’s as much detail as my anti-spoiler policy allows) and I need to hurry up and get to it.

So... where did I leave off? Oh yeah. NinjaJade had taken out the wearer of my future cosplay project, but had missed PM sailing off into the sunset (moonset? Prospitset? Do they even have a sun on these planet-things?), so she’ll have to get the ring back to her later. To expediate that, Jade marries herself.

Oh wait. The four dots. Agh. I mean, aside from being equally spaced in a way that would make them endlessly annoying to wear, they... they may signify the four fingers. Homestuckians have four-fingered hands. I’m not sure if I’ve noticed this before.

Jade is immediately overwhelmed with the Spirit of the Ring: she gains wings, a tri-pointy hat with horns, tentacles, and a fake through-the-body sword. So... an amalgam of all the sprite encodings so far.

Next panel, turns out she was only thinking that happened. It doesn’t work that way on humans.

Elsewhere (dammit, I should’ve stuck with the last post a few more panels so the POV shift happened at the beginning) we have yet another WV. This one is WARWEARY VILLEIN who is either an animated stick-man, or is waving a stick on a banner: crossed beams, ragged red-and-purple robes and a white sash. He/it has a bucket on its head with the familiar Sburb spirograph.

Next up (aagh) is something with flash and sound. This is probably the Cool Thing Coming Up Soon that Chibi told me about. eep. Flash takes forever.

WV is being told to “Rise Up,” which is probably not supposed to make me think of Hamilton as this was written several years ago. But those words are gonna be attached to that song for a long time.

I click to the next screen. I am faced with this:

And I remember two things: (1) Firefox always thinks Flash is out of date, because every time Firefox updates ANYTHING, it decides Flash is out of date. My Firefox is a couple of editions behind (I’m not “updating” to Quantum that will kill several of my beloved extensions), so I’m going to see this A LOT. Sigh.

And (2) aaaaagh my laptop does not have a “print screen” button. It had a “print screen” macro that stopped working. (I have an Alienware laptop. WHODAFUK decided that a gaming laptop didn’t need a “print screen” button? Like, is that now an obscure and rare function? I STILL HAVE A CAPSLOCK BUTTON. I DO NOT NEED A CAPSLOCK BUTTON; CAN I REPLACE IT WITH PRTSCRN? (I typed that without using the capslock button, because remembering to un-capslock is always worse than just holding the shift button with my left pinky and using the wrong finger for “A”, and I guess “q” and “z” but those don’t come up as often.)

Quick check to the Alien “TactX” command center... huh. Print Screen is working now. It wasn’t last week. Yay, I guess? (Someday, I will once again have a boyfriend who speaks fluent Linux, and this time, I will get him to TEACH IT TO ME and I will defenestrate my laptop.) Anyway. Here we go.

3x3 chessboard; the kings move a bit, and then run into each other and the whole thing turns white silhouette. This means this is a meta-story-thing, related to the previous Grand Chessboard event, which I have mostly forgotten. (I have the link saved, though, so I can watch it again anytime. It’s on my schedule. “1. Run out of Stucky and Stony fanfic. 2. Rewatch Homestuck chess scene.” Blame dsudis for the delay.)

Clownsprite image appears. Chess pieces keep moving in the background. I have to screencap several times to get a good picture of the chess pieces (sometimes there’s only one visible) and the sprite with the pretty shade of aqua in the middle instead of white. I’m sure you’re all thrilled that I’m focused on the important parts of the story.

Next, he flickers and I fail to s’cap the transition between that and the full-layout chess set.

Please, someone tell me that someone makes these chess sets. That several people make these chess sets. Tell me the are sold with the label, “This Is A Chess Set, Not A Collection Of Marital Aids. We Promise.”

Birdsprite appears. (At least, I think that’s birdsprite.) Oh wait, no, that’s catsprite in the princess outfit. It is lavender, Rose’s color. Or one of them. Does that mean the davesprite will be red? (Do I really need to screencap all of these? Probably not, but this is as much for my entertainment as anything else. Also, I want to be able to reread them and figure out what I was thinking.) I considered re-trying to catch one with a darker purple circle or other higher contrast, and decided not to bother.

The music seems nice enough, what I can hear of it before I hit stop so I can screencap. (If you’re new - various suggestions have been made on how to deal with the Flash bits in ways that aren’t “stop & screengrab every couple of seconds.” I have nixed all of them. I enjoy doing this one fragmented piece at a time.)

And then the scene changes: the board is replaced with a WHOLE PLANET BOARD.

Rose and John’s sprites are in the upper corners, starting with top right and moving widdershins. Widdershins is a destructive direction; they are unmaking the world. (Erm. As obscure as Hussie gets sometimes, I have doubts that that particular bit of symbolism applies here.)

Aaaand here comes the davebirdswordsprite. Orange, not red.

Davesprite tucks away into the bottom left corner, continuing widdershins, and the cubeworld backs off or is replaced by a round world, very bright and faint, with VERY BRIGHT FLASHING blue lines around it. (Same blue lines as above. They just got brighter.) Then the planet darkens (this is what happens when you stop the Flash every second or two; you wind up giving far too much import to transition scenes.)

Imma make a prediction: Jadesprite is due to make an appearance. (Does Jade have a sprite yet? Something with a pumpkin?)

BUT NO! The world gets bigger, moves closer, until it FILLS THE WHOLE SCREEN! Then it fades out to white, and gradually (well, gradually if you’re stopping every time something moves or flickers), we get a new scene:

Aww, the rolling hills of Chesslandia, with its famed pixeltrees. We float over the landscape until we reach the castle. (Or maybe, “a castle.” I dunno. Maybe there are hundreds of castles in Chesslandia.) The pixelgrass fields bring color to the landscape, and a couple of pixelfolk play hide-and-seek in the tall grass near the aqua river.

Well, it’s got a turret and banners, and that kinda says “castle,” along with the whole, y’know, chess kings & queens motif, but that looks kinda small for a castle. Also rather isolated. Why build a castle if there’s nothing near it to defend? I see that there are people, but no town. Is the castle all that remains? Am I looking upon the desolate post-apocalyptic wasteland of Chesslandia?

We pass the people and zoom in, seeing the yellow banner waving madly in the gale-force breezes near the castle turret. This is, apparently, to introduce the army of Chesslandia, because the scene whites out again, and then switches to the marching hordes.

I am probably not supposed to think their little ± symbol reminds me of a leviathan cross, a.k.a. the Satanic cross. (Hey, if I make a CD cosplay outfit, can I have a purple banner with a pentagonal ± symbol on it? Or is he not part of this army?)

Then we pull back to see the huge crowd of them, and they fade, and a different banner fades in: this one is purple - and behind it is a yellow-clad army.

AAAH! The yellow flag is for Prospit, and that’s the Dersian army marching on it. And the purple banner here is Derse, and the Prospit army - complete with the same ± symbol - is marching. Here, have some Prospit army:

This isn’t because you need the picture, but because I captured the flash at that point so I can watch them marching and waving weapons, with the sky flickering in the background. It’s very soothing. Wish I could capture it as a gif.

And then... FIGHT! Armies meet on the battlefield! Sparks fly from their blades, which are apparently made from different metals. They both wear stripey shirts and chessboard tabards, of different color combos.

Guys. Gals. Whatever. Readers. I have been cheated. I thought Homestuck cosplay was limited to “t-shirts with a zodiac symbol + horns & weird sunglasses,” or “one of these four kids (also t-shirt with symbol).” There is AWESOME cosplay opportunities in this series. Nobody told me.

I mean, they told me about the tentibulges, because my friends know where my interests lie (or squirm, as the case may be), but even the friends who knew I’d done 6+ years of RenFaire didn’t bother telling me, “omg you should see the amazing costume options, and also, they wouldn’t be impossible to make!”

(I mean, I’ve looked into WV’s costume, but it looks difficult and too hot to wear at most conventions.) (See how I focus on the important parts of the story?)

Spaceship takedown attempt. Or maybe this is a drop ship. Looks like there are many such ships. Anyway, we see battles, and it pulls back to show the larger scene, and the horrors of war:

Well, the horrors of neon, purple-vs-yellow war. ... Is that a giant horse shadow with tentacles on its back?

Why, yes it is. Knight vs... King? Queen? We’re back to the chessboard, with only a tiny hint of a pixeltree in the corner to let you know this is the large-scale war happening above the ground. Then we get this:

I’m not sure what’s going on here, but they’re too cute to pass up. There are 9 little fellows, so they’re not “pawns.” Then a giant black chesspiece stomps into the center of them and they fall aside, scattering (I didn’t catch that picture), and then... the WV banner thingie is raised again.

That makes it seem like we’re wrapping up this storything, because that’s the image that we started on. It slowly pulls back to show an empty Chesslandia with a flower stand, waving a red banner.

The pixelgrass has return to the fields, although the pixeltrees have not. Or maybe they just don’t grow here.

AAuugghhh nooo... that was a picture of the past. Now, the lovely flowerstand is in ruins; fire everywhere, and a lone derseling wanders the war-ravaged fields of Chesslandia. :( We pull in tight to his grief-stricken, bleak expression (don’t ask how I can identify that from two white dots on a black circle; I just can) and then he (or she) oversees the huge battle on the fields below.

Woe. Woe has come to Chesslandia. Woe, and fire. Woe, and fire, and pixels.

Zir face is shadowed by woe and fire and pixels.

Zie is not looking nearly as woeful in this image. Hrrm. Then we see the Black Queen rise...

Then we zoom in again, this time to the scepter, which is full of clouds and the spirography thing:

This is all getting a little too “Men in Black,” with the world in a marble and all that. Are we going to zoom into the scepter again, to the center of the spirography symbol, and find ourselves moving into John’s balcony?

Well, no. We do zoom in, into the world and the cubeworld and such, but we get a black-and-white image of something shadowy flying over Chesslandia.

We zoom in again, and we see... not Spades Slick, despite the cut on the eye. That other character with the same appearance.

It flies with malice (don’t ask me how I can identify malice from that), but is faced with a lone Dersian defender:

We cut back to the war on the ground, the clashing swords and all that, but the combatants move aside. And this had better wrap up pretty quickly, because my printscreen macro just stopped working. (WTF? If anyone knows how to give advice on this, plz contact me.) Anyway. They move aside, and then snap into line.

Our lone Dersite with the tattered red banner leads them through the pixeltrees toward a set of checkered ruins.

Elsewhere, PM lands, and notices the missing ring. White Queen is not happy. There’s another huge scepter waving. White Queen flashes white all over, and shrinks - and hands the scepter to PM.

Looks like PM is in line to be the new WQ. However, the handoff is spotted by someone who is Definitely Not A Member Of The Midnight Crew.

Meanwhile, the Dersite hordes march to confront the Black Queen. Our purple-robed hero(ine) glares, and then looks upward, sees the flying not-a-bird person overhead. The Spadesy-person waves a swords and slices through the black scepter.

(I think I figured out the screencap problem. It won’t work if I have the Flash selected. Which is stupid. Really stupid.)

Black queen, missing her scepter and its four spinny baubles, also shrinks.

Heartsy spy leaps out and attacks the new white queen. (Gonna knock her into next week. This is a problem, because next week is a massive international holiday and it’ll be hard to find time to liveblog.) White scepter goes flying over a waterfall.

We see, inside the white scepter, the purple-robed defender, and it pulls back to see the world, and then the scepter itself, which lands by the banks of the aqua river surrounded by pixelgrass.

(That picture’s superfluous; it’s not relevant to the story. It’s here becaue I think it’s pretty.)

Aaand now I should watch it again and get a sense of the whole story instead of stopping every two seconds to ponder the meaning of each cut scene.

***

Two minutes and 15 seconds of flash that takes me an hour and a half to write about, all the while worrying that Tumblr’s going to have some weird hiccup and lose the whole thing.

So: back queen dead; white queen deposed by losing her marbles; new manager of each; war possibly stopped at the moment. White scepter maybe recoverable and could be combined with Jade’s ring to fix it. Black scepter broken; would need something else to fix. (Superglue?)

Jade has not yet entered the chessgame at the macro level. Jade needs to install Sburb and get into the game.

#homestuck #homestuck liveblog #prospit v derse #white queen #black queen #elf meets trolls #act 4

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szopenhauer · 4 years ago

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have you got any brothers or sisters who annoy you? my sister annoys me indeed

as a younger teenager, did you have any older guys/girls hit on you? as a teenager nobody hit on me

would you ever want to be changed into a vampire? doubt it, the only thing that would truly interest me about it is immortality which isn’t actually living forever as even sun can kill you and knowing my luck that would happen fast

does the thought of dying give you cold chills? kinda how many times has someone called you boring, if ever? several times because I don’t travel, I don’t party, I don’t like sports and out of some other reasons has anyone ever told you that you had “so many” months to live? not exactly as a teen, were you trusted to be alone with a boyfriend/girlfriend? as a teen I had no real bf/gf do your parents both have a job? my mom’s retired already are you currently unemployed? if not, what’s your job? I am where do you belong? nowhere?... were you anyone’s first kiss? I was what is the color of your cellular telephone? black what color are your gloves/mittens? I have few pairs when was the last time you listened to the radio; and do you remember which song was the last you heard on there? not counting online radio that I still rarely listen to (usually just during Christmas time, that special playlist on rmf) - years and I don’t remember the last song because I didn’t think it will be the last one and that just made me sad do you think English the hardest language to learn? noooo do you clean under your nails with safety pins? I use toothpicks how long after your shower do you walk around naked, or in your towel, until you decide to get dressed? I get dressed right away does it bother you that so many people start going out like a week or two before valentine’s day, as if it’s just because they don’t want to be alone? that’s really lame, I’m sorry for them what do(es) you(r mom) grow in your garden? lots of stuff what do you think of facial piercings? meh, some are ugly, some are ok did your shoe laces come with your shoes? yeah but they still have zippers as I wouldn’t bother to own shoes with just laces do you have any cds you bought at the concert?. never bought a CD at the concert what does your second oldest sibling do for a living? I have only one sibling and what she does is not your business (pun intended) are there any beanie babies with your birthday? Beanie Boos Carrots - rabbit - style 36031 Julep - monkey - style 36056 Pashun - dog - style 36206 Beanie Babies Bunga Raya - bear - style 4615 - (birth year 2002) Dewi Y Ddraig - dragon - style 46157 - (birth year 2010) D'Vine - monkey - style 40767 - (birth year 2008) Flower - meerkat - style 46155 - (birth year 2010) Niles - camel - style 4284 -(birth year 2000) Peace - bear - style 4053 - (birth year 1996) Peepers - bushbaby - style 40795 - (birth year 2009) TOUR Teddy - bear - style 40347 - (birth year 2006) Teenie Beanie Boppers Terrific Tessa - style 0334 Boppers Lovely Lily - style 0223

what color is your cat? it was all black with yellow eyes

do you own any buddha? nooo, why would I do you know what color hazel really is? .. my eyes? XD what color is your toaster? don’t own one what color is your webcam? white but I don’t use it as I have no mic, I tried to buy one but they never work so I prefer to use my cellphone as a cam instead do you have anything real gold? I think I still own that one tiny item (necklace with the letter Z) and if I do I will probably sell it

Do you own any adult colouring books? those gimme anxiety When was the last time you got some new headphones? mine are about 5 years old

Do you know anyone whose name starts with the letter X? I don’t :o

Name a food that you dislike the texture of. pears

Describe the cover illustration of the book closest to you. it has the Stranger things villain on it behind the room with no. 11

Do you wear a mask when you go to the store? of course, if you don’t - I hate you!

Are you expecting a package right now? am not

What is one thing you hate about summer? mosquitos for an example

Did you go outside today? just our garden

Have you ever received a misdiagnosis from a doctor? yup

Do you have a book that you’ve read multiple times? I never reread books

Do you enjoy babysitting? ugh...

What was your favorite book you had to read for school? I used to like Cierpienia młodego Wertera - that was stupid of me

Have you ever wanted to be a teacher? in pre-school

What’s one childhood dream that has stuck with you? my own apartment

Would you want to re-live your childhood over again if you could? I believe

Which do you like more: being an adult or being a kid? being a kid

Did your parents smoke or drink when you were growing up? nope

Do you enjoy bonfires? they were fine

Have you ever ridden in an ambulence? couple of times

Do you know anyone who used to be loving, but then turned cold? that would be me...

What color are your bedroom walls? green and yellow

Is there an old friend that you miss and would like to reconnect with? I tried...

Have you been bullied? all of my school years basically

Which talent show, if any, would you most like to audition for? I have no talent

Do you feel like time goes by fast, or slow? both slow and fast

Who do you know who has died of cancer? my aunt that I didn’t really know

Have you ever stayed overnight in a hospital, and if so, what for? couple of times, once even almost entire month, long story (stories actually)

Have you ever been so angry you wanted to sue someone? hahaha

Have you ever been a victim of racism? I’m white so not really

Did you go to prom? nah

Are you an aunt or uncle? yep

Do you feel like you are currently in a state of suffering? and that not all of your basic needs are being met? If so, how long have you been in a state of suffering? I’ve always been and it only got worse

Life isn’t fair. True or false? it seems

Name a few people who seem to have everything handed to them. born rich

Do you pray less or more than you did 5 years ago? more

Do you pray a lot? not enough

Have you ever used an epi pen? hope I won’t have to

What was the name of the biggest bully in your high school? HS didn’t have big bullies but for me that was A.L.

How many kids do you want to have? 0

Do you want to get married? hmm...

Best date you’ve been on? dunno

Dream date? *shrug*

Ever kissed someone on New Year’s? never

Have you ever been in so much pain you prayed that you would die? other kind of suffering

Who always tries to stop you whenever you try to go after your dreams? life/world so God I guess

are you in love with llamas? they’re cool

do you like hats? beanies and those winter ones in animal shapes

have you ever had surgery? not yet

do you have an enemy? some I call this way

do you want to save the trees? yes

what size shoe do you wear? 38-39

do you cook? I do not

do you like taking pictures? at times

pink flamingos? cute for the garden :3

do you like spiders? I don’t mind them

do you own an mp3 player? but I don’t use it anymore, not even sure if it still works

why are you hitting yourself? self harm

what’s your mom’s name? personal

what about your dad? same

have you ever won anything? yep

is revenge sweet? in movies might be and sometimes I laugh when ppl get what they deserve, sorry not sorry?

have you ever had someone lie for you so you wouldn’t get in trouble? sort of

who lives in a pineapple under the sea? Spongebob

do you like night or day better? night

do you like finding nemo? nooo

plaid or polka dots? why not stripes?

have you ever done yoga? a bit

what posters do you have on your wall? no posters

do you wear dresses a lot? noooo

how many school dances have you been to? all of them besides prom

can you swim? can’t

don’t you just want to mass murder all barbie dolls? why? :o

who was the last person you were under a blanket with? my gf

name something great that happened today? for example - Choices chapters were great

who was the last person’s voice you heard? mom’s

did you speak to your mother today? of course

what color is your hair? naturally dark brown

when was the last time you talked to one of your siblings? online or irl?

how did you wake up this morning? by myself

how many letters are in your last name? 11

do you still talk to the last person you kissed? in general because at this very moment she’s asleep

do you believe that everything happens for a reason? not everything

do you ever pretend to text/talk on the phone when you’re in public? yeah have you ever had spinach? if not, would you ever want to? I ate it before don’t you hate when the wires pop out of your bra and poke you all day? my bra has no wires am i the only one who likes to go grocery shopping? you’re not alone

is anything wrong with your eyes? possibly do you ever write notes on your hand? used to last time you cried? why? I was moved by the game on my cellphone

when is the last time you were in a swimming pool? in middle school have you ever fallen backwards on a chair? I don’t recall what do you feel like watching? nothing atm do you ever try to write with your non-dominant hand? with feet too who makes you laugh the most? my gf and my dad who starred in your last dream? besides me - no one that I know do you regret doing something today? maybe do you think you’re old? I’m not but I often feel like I am are you afraid of the dark? at home only - especially mirrors and windows in the dark are scary

sometimes, do you wish you were someone else? not a particular person have you ever told anyone you were ok when you really weren’t? it’s bad but I did that before do you talk a lot? do I?

which member of your family are you closest to? dad

would you ever apply to be on reality tv? doubt it do you have a hard time letting things go? I guess have you ever struggled with your weight? slightly when you are out with your friends are you loud and outgoing or shy and reserved? depends do you like to stay in your pajamas all day long? whatever in high school did you have a lot of friends? do you still keep in touch? group and not really at what age did you get your period? 13? fuzzy socks: yay or nay? yay

When was the last time you held a puppy? years ago

Was the person that last slept over at your house a boy or girl? girl Who’s name first comes to mind that starts with the letter “P”? Paulina and Patrycja

Do you have any kind of jewelry on at the moment? not at the moment Would you say you use “lol” too often? get used to this!

When was the last time you vacuumed a room? I mop the floor

You can only shop at one store for the rest of your life, what store is it? but food? :o

Have you ever donated to a cause? yup

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vanillatwilight17 · 7 years ago

Text

A New Beginning (Chapter 6)

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: Sorry for the long wait! I hope you all are still with me! Here is the next chapter! Please leave me some reviews or comments after you read! I didn't get a single one for the last chapter and I have no idea how you guys felt about it lol.

Here is a link to chapter 5 with all other chapters linked if you forgot, are new, or want to reread to catch up!

http://vanillatwilight17.tumblr.com/post/161977128288/a-new-beginning-chapter-5

Chapter 6: Yellow or Green?

The entire town of Storybrooke could talk of nothing for days after Emma and Killian's big baby announcement. Between Snow and the dwarves telling everyone they could, anyone who hadn't been at the party knew within a day or so. Slowly, especially for Emma who was still throwing up on a daily basis, the days turned to weeks and before Emma knew it she was five months pregnant. As their alarm went off to wake them up for work, Emma reached over to turn it off and felt instantly amazed.

"Killian," She said trying to wake her still sleeping husband.

"Whaaaamf iz tit uuuvve?" he mumbled into his pillow.

"I didn't throw up last night!" Emma said elated! This would seem a silly accomplishment to anyone not getting over the stomach flu but to her it was a Christmas miracle. Dr. Whale told her that some women experience morning sickness their entire pregnancy and Emma was beginning to think she was one of those lucky few. Morning sickness was obviously a relative term because anytime of the day she could find herself needing to sprint to the closest bathroom. She started figuring out foods and smells that set her off more than others but it was still extremely annoying.

"Really?" Killian rolled over, placing his arm under her neck to pull her close to him. "No more morning sickness?"

"I wouldn't go that far yet but this was the first time I slept through the night without puking since before I found out I was pregnant."

"I was beginning to think you were this horrible mother who was sneaking out after I went to sleep to binge drink at the rabbit hole and was crawling home to puke your guts out." He teased her causing her to swat playfully at him.

"Hahaha I would much rather have the drunk pukes. At least they don't hit you in the middle of grocery shopping or parent conferences." Emma said thinking back to some recent unpleasant memories.

"Someone's been giving Mummy trouble already." Killian said placing his hand on Emma's rounded stomach and bending down to give it a gentle kiss.

Killian was absolutely obsessed with her baby bump and Emma loved it. She remembered the first day her clothes no longer fit her. She had been particularly hormonal that day and they were supposed to be going over to Regina's to celebrate baby Robin's birthday. She must have tried on every outfit in her closet and not a single thing fit her. She ended up in sweat pants and her bra sitting on the floor sobbing. When her husband had come up stairs to check on her, finding her like that he rushed to her assuming something was wrong.

"Emma love what's wrong? Is it the baby?"

"Yes!" Emma said through angry sobs.

"What is it? Do you need a doctor?"

"It's not like that. The baby is fine. Great actually that's the current issue."

"I'm afraid I'm not following love." Killian said, he had learned to be patient with his wife when she was having hormonal moments if he liked his head.

"Look!" Emma said pulling off the shirt to reveal a small bump on her stomach.

"I see! You're finally showing! Our baby is finally making itself known to us!" Killian said wrapping his arms around his wife and pulling her in for a hug.

"And none of my clothes fit! I'm a cow. What is everyone going to think when I show up to the party like this?" Emma said pouting.

"Well you have to be the cutest damn cow I've ever seen." Killian said. "They might think it a tad on the scandalous side. Crazed mother to be shows up to a two year olds birthday party in nothing but her bra and sweats sobbing that she has joined the bovine family." As much as Emma wanted to smack him she couldn't help but smile. He had a way of making her laugh.

"Maybe my mom still has some of her maternity clothes that she can lend me for this afternoon then we can go shopping."

"That's the spirit love! Here, wear one of my shirts until then," Killian said, turning his wife around so her back was to him and they were both staring at their reflections in the mirror. "This right here, is the most beautiful site in the entire world." He said, kissing her cheek and placing his hand and hook on her stomach. You have never been more beautiful to me than you are right now, carrying my child."

From that day on whenever possible, Killian's hand was on her stomach. He talked to the baby constantly. This morning waking up was no different.

"I hope this isn't a sign for what we are in for." Emma said laughing.

"Say no Mummy! You are a little angel aren't you baby." He said kissing her swollen belly then coming up to kiss his wife.

"Did you think on the appointment today?" Emma asked him.

"I did. I don't want to know."

"Really? You don't want to know if it's a boy or a girl?"

"If you really want to we can. Where I'm from we have to do it the old fashioned way and find out when it's born."

"I'm fine with not knowing. There aren't very many surprises left in life."

"Thank the gods. I really wasn't feeling another big reveal operation. Those are exhausting!"

"You and me both. I'm sure my mom will give us a hard time about it though just be prepared."

"Do you have preference for what it is?"

"No, not really." She said.

"Are you sure about that?" He asked eying her suspiciously.

"I mean…."

"There it is!" He said proud of himself.

"I just mean that I will love him or her unconditionally regardless, but we already have a boy, it might be nice to have a little girl. I'm sure you want a little swashbuckling boy though."

"Why can't I have a little swashbuckling lass?"

"You certainly can! I just figured you would want a little Killian is all."

"I, like you, will love our child unconditionally regardless but I would be a miss to say I wasn't fond of the idea of daddy's little girl."

"I think that role would suit you well." Emma said smiling, nuzzling her husbands cheek. "We better get up and get going since we have to leave early today for the doctor."

"Unfortunately you are right love. Are we picking Henry up from school?"

"No, my mom is leaving early to check him out and bring him. She has been begging me even more than he has about coming to an appointment. Sorry, I should have told you." Emma said, hoping the additional guest at their appointment wouldn't bother him.

"No reason to be sorry love. I am floored that our child is entering the world surrounded by people who love it."

"Me too. My mom missed so much with me, and she says that there are so few milestones in my life left, that she wants to be part of all that she can. Who am I to deny the woman that?"

"And if you did she would just come anyway." Killian pointed out.

"True story bro." Emma said.

"Last I checked we weren't siblings…" Killian said confused.

"It's an expression. All the cool kids are saying it these days. I'll get dressed then head downstairs to get breakfast going."

"True story bro!" Killian said excitedly.

"No you can't say it for…you know what…never mind!" Emma said walking away laughing. One of these days she would get her pirate into the 21st century.

At three o'clock Emma, Killian, Henry, and Snow were all sitting in the waiting room of Dr. Whale's office.

"This is so exciting! We're going to get to see your little brother or sister!" Snow said wrapping her arm around Henry's shoulder.

"It would be more exciting if these two would find out if it was a brother or a sister!" Henry said.

"What? You don't want to know?" Snow asked surprised.

"Mom there are so few surprises left in life. Why ruin one of them?"

"How will we decorate the nursery if we don't know what it is though?"

"You can go gender neutral or wait until the baby is born and do it then."

"A baby should have a proper nursery when it's born!" Snow said appalled at the idea of waiting until her grandchild was here before painting the walls of it's bedroom.

"How did you decorate my nursery? You didn't know what I was." Emma said and Snow went very quiet and began fiddling with items in her purse.

"Mom…you didn't know what I was right?"

"True we didn't have fancy technology that let us see the baby before it was born but we had….ways of finding out what it was."

"You didn't Mom!" Emma said surprised.

"Grandma!" Henry said even more surprised.

"Really Snow?" Killian said.

"It wasn't like I cast a spell or something on myself or put you in any danger! Your father's mother had this necklace that was enchanted that could tell you if you were going to have a boy or a girl."

"Mom you know all magic comes with a price! What if the price had been that I was born with three heads?"

"Or what if she was cursed to act like a chicken during a full moon?" Henry added.

"Or what if she could only speak in haiku's her whole life?" Killian said accusingly. Unfortunately the three of them were not able to keep the façade up and started laughing.

"Oh please! Like the three of you haven't used magic to find something out. Clearly she came out just fine so no harm no foul."

"Emma Jones! The doctor will see you now please follow me!" A nurse called out and the four of them followed her back to the room.

"You know…sometimes when I'm around horses I feel like I…" Emma started but was cut off by her mother swatting at her shoulder.

"Shhh and follow the nurse young lady. I brought you into this world and I can take you out! You are fine!" Snow said.

Fifteen minutes later after vitals were taken, Dr. Whale was performing the ultrasound on Emma with her family members gathered around.

"Brought the whole crew today huh?" He asked.

"Oh this isn't the whole crew." Emma said laughing. "If you really wanted to draw out the family tree I don't think we would all fit in here." Everyone else started laughing too.

"Well they will be sad they didn't make the cut because this is one of those super high tech ultrasound machines that should you a 3D image of your baby. It's basically the next best thing to them actually seeing them. So let's see here…" Dr. Whale started moving the wand around to find the right angle. "Here we go. Ready to meet your baby?" Emma grabbed Killian's hand and both tightened their grip as an image filled the screen. Instead of a traditional grainy ultrasound image this one showed actual detail.

"Oh my God!" Emma said unable to hold back the tears. She gazed upon a perfect little nose, to perfect little lips, perfect little fingers and toes.

"That's our baby!" Killian said shakily. Emma looked up and saw he was crying too.

"Look it's waving at you!" Dr. Whale said noting that the baby's hand was moving. "If you've been talking to it frequently it probably recognizes your voices.

"Oh Emma! That's your baby!" Snow said kissing her daughter's head, barely holding back tears. "It's beautiful."

"It's perfect!" Emma and Killian said together, unable to take their eyes off the screen.

"Hey little dude! I'm your big brother!" Henry said.

"Pretty cool huh kid?" Emma asked taking her son's hand. Henry's eyes were so full of excitement, this baby couldn't have asked for a better big brother.

"Do you want to know if it is a little dude or dudette?" Dr. Whale asked. Emma was seriously tempted, she looked to her husband and saw that he was feeling the same way. They met eyes and had a silent conversation and squeezed each other's hands.

"The temptation is so strong but we want to be surprised." Killian said.

"Please Mom and Dad!" Henry pleaded.

"Sorry kid, gonna have to wait like the rest of us!" Emma said.

"I for one am glad you are waiting. So few people do anymore. It's so much more exciting that way. I'll get you copies of these pictures and then we will get you on your way." Dr. Whale said.

"Make an extra set for me!" Snow said.

Later that evening they were all sitting in her parent's living room looking at the ultrasound pictures. Regina, Zelena, Belle, and the kids had all come over for dinner.

"What sort of magic is this?" Regina asked looking at the pictures.

"I wish I had gotten one of these done!" Belle said.

"You and me both!" Zelena agreed.

"Well the question of the hour…who does it look like?" Regina said.

"Emma!" Belle said.

"Killian!" Killian said.

"I think it's a good mix of both of them!" David said.

"Mom!" Henry said.

"It's absolutely gorgeous so obviously Emma." Killian said.

"I was going to say the same thing about you!" Emma said.

"You two are revolting!" Regina said. "I can't believe you didn't find out what it is! How will we buy you gifts for your shower?"

"Oh you guys don't have to…"

"Oh don't even for one second think I'm not planning you a shower missy!" Snow said.

"Well you will just have to buy neutral colors like green or yellow." Emma said.

"Yellow is so not a neutral color!" Killian added.

"Yes it is!" Emma and Snow argued back.

"No it's not!" Killian and David said together.

The two sides looked to other members of their family for support and a full out debate ensued over the color yellow which turned into how would they paint the nursery which turned into laughs and good memories. Emma was so thankful that she had found her family and that her baby would be surrounded by nothing but love and support from day one.

A/N: So sorry for the wait! I was struggling with this chapter then I left the country for vacation and yea. Hope you are all still with me and that you leave me some reviews! I love hearing your feedback and knowing what you thought. It inspires me! Next chapter hopefully out much sooner!

#cs ff #ouat ff #captain swan #daddy killian #pregnant emma #captain swan ff #once upon a time #emma swan #killian jones #emma jones #captain cobra #cs family ff #cs family #cs baby #cs pregnant

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geek-patient-zero · 5 years ago

Text

Part 1, Chapter 6

Or: Phantomas of Notre Dame

Blood War: Masquerade of the Red Death Trilogy Volume 1

Paris—March 12, 1994

The official smile of Paris is the sneer. The rich sneer at the middle class. The middle class sneer at the poor. And they all sneer at the hordes of tourists who flood their city each year.

I’ve actually remembered these lines since I first read them as a kid. I don’t know why, beyond it being Baby’s First French Stereotype Joke, but I did. I forgot what book they were from though, so when I reread Blood War and found them again, it was a nice surprise.

Their mockery, according to the guidebooks, is part of the charm of Paris. The city, with it’s great restaurants, fabulous museums, superb monuments, and long history, breeds contempt for the lesser achievements surrounding it. The average Parisian citizen considers himself far superior to anyone from outside the city.

It’s only Paris being singled out here, but still, I want to apologize to any French readers. It isn’t going to get much better for you guys in this book. But hey, at least your capital city isn’t a gang warzone.

That attitude explains, at least in theory, the joy the natives get from telling tales of the Phantom of the Paris Opera.

Not only are Parisians assholes, but they bug you into reading their Phantom of the Opera fanfics.

There’s some cliffnotes about the story (written by Gaston Leroux, demented genius living under the Paris Opera, hideously scarred, etc.), then we learn the titular Phantom is the French equivalent of Australia’s drop bears: a made up monster they tell gullible American tourists about to fuck with them.

Parisians loved to elaborate on the fantasy for gullible tourists, saying how, though he had reportedly been destroyed, the body of Eric, the Phantom, had never been found. And that every year, a few unwary tourists to the Opera House disappeared without a trace.

It was typical malicious Parisian humor. Often, the story was accompanied with a breathless attempt to sell bootleg souvenirs such as an authentic map of the catacombs or a page from the score of the Phantom’s infamous lost opera.

Or those little Mickey Mouse paper dolls that supposedly dance to music but are just attached to a motor by an invisible string. My ma fell for that one.

I don’t know if Parisians in real life actually do this, but it wouldn’t surprise me. I hear the Louvre used to give The Da Vinci Code themed tours. This sounds more fun than that, and less soul-crushing.

I admit that I’ve never read The Phantom of the Opera. I saw the play on an elementary school field trip to Broadway, but I barely remember it. I know the book begins with an intro where Leroux claims it’s a true story, but I figured it’s a true story the way The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is a true story. I looked it up anyway, just so I don’t look like an uncultured moron if I dismissed it and was wrong. Turns out, the story was inspired by a real incident at the Paris Opera where a chandelier counterweight (not the chandelier itself) fell down and killed someone. There was a crackpot theory at the time that the accident was actually an assassination attempt. That’s something I didn’t know. Guess I owe Weinberg one for getting me to learn something.

Back to the story. Parisians like to use the Phantom to fuck with tourists, but there are other stories they don’t tell them. Stories that poor shopkeepers tell each other behind closed doors like the superstitious European peasant stereotypes they pretend they aren’t. Stories that were handed down from generation to generation about unexplained disappearances plaguing the Île de la Cité (aka the place where the Notre Dame cathedral is).

Common to every narrative was the same name. A title that when said aloud could cause the most elegant Parisian to blanch in terror.

What, Quasimodo’s some kind of French cryptid too? I know the original book character wasn’t as nice as the Disney version, and he’d be an obvious candidate for a Nosferatu (or a Ravnos if you wanna be a dick) but he was hardly-

Phantomas.

Oh. Alright, yeah, different literary character, but I can go along with it.

Officially, the French Sûreté (cops, pigs, po-po, babylon) dismiss such rumors as the insane ramblings of demented poets living on the West Bank. No mention is made of a file, five inches thick, hidden deep in the files of police headquarters. Contained in it are hundreds of reports, dating back a hundred and fifty years to the time of Chief Inspector Vidocq, detailing the circumstances surrounding hundreds of disappearances in the vicinity of the famous cathedral of Notre Dame.

I bet at least one report blames Quasimodo.

One actual report is a six page article, never made public, by a historical commission about the hundreds of myths and legends surrounding the church, all connected by a ghostly figure seen in the Cathedral at night. I’ll give you one guess at what it actually is.

Though he is called by a dozen different names in the tales, he is always described as incredibly ugly. And a drinker of human blood.

Yep. A goddamn mage.

In turn-of-the-century France, the vampire’s name had gained such notoriety that a series of mystery thrillers featuring an arch-fiend called Fantomas became best-sellers. None of the stories explained the origin of the mastermind. Or why he preyed on the citizens of Paris. They were works of fiction, not fact.

In case old French pulp isn’t your thing, Fantomas, spelled with an F, was a character created in 1911 by Marcel Allain and Pierre Souvestre. He’s a master criminal like Arsène Lupin, except instead of a gentleman thief he was a sadistic murderer and Grade-A pure evil bastard. There’s nothing supernatural about Fantomas. He’s just a regular human who’s really good at murder, framing innocent people for said murder, and getting away with it. Apparently, thanks to the 1960′s film trilogy, he’s usually remembered in French pop culture wearing a blue mask that covers his entire head.

You can see how that guy would inspire a Nosferatu character. Also Destro from G.I. Joe.

But as just explained, in this setting it’s the other way around. And despite being portrayed as what the French call “a homicidal piece of shit”, the “real-life” Phantomas is a big fan of the stories.

The subject of these various novels, reports, and studies found them all vastly amusing. He had enjoyed the Fantomas novels immensely and had even sent the author several anonymous letters suggesting future ideas for plots. To his intense disappointment, none of his ideas had ever been used. Once or twice he had mentally debated visiting the novelist to plead his case. But Phantomas suspected his physical appearance might do his cause more harm than good.

That... is goddamn fucking adorable. He’s just been introduced and I already hope he survives the trilogy and discovers online fanfiction.

The vampire readily acknowledged his ugliness. Standing exactly five feet tall, with skin wrinkled as a prune, eyes like raisins, and a nose the size and shape of a sweet potato, he had caused more than one drunken Parisian to swear off red wine forever. A gaping mouthful of yellow teeth and bulging red eyes propelled his face out of the realm of the bizarre into the domain of the grotesque.

Eh. Someone in this fandom would still bang him.

Wait, eyes that were both “like raisins” and “bulging”? How does that work?

Phantomas is the Nosferatu on the cover of the second book of this trilogy, if you want a visual reference.

See, he’s even still got some hair. He’s not that bad looking.

Phantomas might enjoy the fiction he inspired about a murderer, but he’s not happy about being blamed for real murders of innocent people, regarding it as “cheap slander”. The centuries of recorded disappearances were the results of more natural and obvious crimes.

While he occasionally satisfied his thirst on some poor unfortunate, Phantomas rarely killed innocents if it could be avoided. A quiet, gentle soul, all he wanted was to be left alone in his underground lair, pursuing his research.

Over the years a host of villains had used his presence on the Île de la Cité as an alibi for their murders. Their victims ended, not in his hideaway, but dumped in the Seine. Most had escaped the guillotine. However, Phantomas was less forgiving. And his justice was as sharp and final as any blade.

So other than a few accidents, the only people Phantomas “disappeared” were the criminals responsible for the rest of them.

Phantomas isn’t thinking about that dark business right now. He’s feeling great because he’s on his way to a party. The Prince of Paris, one Francois Villon, holds court once a month, and today’s such a day. Villon’s both a Toreador elder and French, so obviously he holds court in the Louvre.

Dozens of Kindred, along with several hundred of the Prince’s favorite ghouls and kine, attended the festivities. This evening the Prince entertained an important Tremere wizard visiting from Vienna. Phantomas loved such events. Though never invited, he never missed one.

There goes my heart, breaking for poor old Phantomas again...

But this time the snub isn’t a case of a Toreador being a snob to a Nosferatu. Villon just doesn’t know Phantomas exists.

The Prince was under the mistaken impression that he was the oldest, most powerful vampire in the City of Lights. He was neither. Phantomas had come to the Île de la Cité with the invading legions of Julius Caesar in 53 B.C.

I should apologize to the French again. Turns out Phantomas isn’t one of you guys. He’s a nice Italian man.

From here we’re launched into Phantomas’ pre-Phantomas backstory. In life he was Varro Dominus (Strong Ruler or Master), a young noble and soldier who worked under Caesar himself, and was in charge of recording his military campaigns. Ceasar’s legions arrived in the Île de la Cité, then called Lutetia, using it as a stepping stone across the Seine. Unfortunately for Varro, living among the easily conquered native tribesmen, pretending to be a forest god, was a fifth-generation Nosferatu named Urgahalt. The invading legions fascinated Urgahalt, what with their military strength, impressive latin names, and neat centurion helmets, and he Embraced Varro so he could introduce him into Roman society.

There’s an obvious flaw in this plan, since it’s difficult for a guy to introduce you to his culture when you’ve just made him an outcast from that culture, turning him into a shriveled prune monster with a sweet potato nose. And Varro knew it too. The Romans, or at least Varro, knew more about Kindred (or lemures, as they called vampires) than Urgahalt realized, including how to kill them. Pissed that bumping into this guy cost him his life and career, Varro staked him in the heart and turned him into a bonfire.

Convincing the legions to take him back would be a hard sell now, so Varro stayed behind on the island, pretty much never leaving during the millennia as modern Paris rose up around the guy.

He was as much a part of the city as the Eiffel Tower.

Which undersells Phantomas quite a bit since the Eiffel Tower’s only been around since 1889, but you get the point.

Turning into an ugly son of a bitch also turned Phantomas into the ultimate introvert, aside from those parties he likes attending. He stays hidden from everyone, including other vampires. Even other Nosferatu.

More than two hundred Kindred inhabited Paris and its suburbs. The Toreador Clan held control of the central city, but several other bloodlines roamed the streets, including rebel bands of Brujah, Gangrel, and Malkavians. Rumors spoke of a Sabbat pack anxious to spread dissension and revolt, with headquarters in the slums. At least a half-dozen Nosferatu lived in lairs beneath major museums and churches [sic] Yet even among the Kindred Phantomas was a legend, an unseen presence with no basis in reality. He was a phantom to the living and the undead.

Good call. If Parisians are like how the opening paragraphs describe them, I wouldn’t want to talk to them either.

In order to stay hidden, Phantomas lives in a huge underground lair hundreds of feet under Notre Dame, connected by a network of tunnels that stretched across Paris. He’s also a master of Obfuscate, the discipline that allows vampires, especially Nosferatu, to go around unnoticed, commonly by turning invisible. Right now, in order to get into the party, Phantomas is using the Mask of a Thousand Faces, the third-tier Obfuscate power that disguises a vampire as a random nobody human or an unimportant vampire, depending on whose looking at him. Looks like it also lets you pretend to hold an invitation and get away with it.

Shortly after midnight, he strolled past the two Assamites guarding the glass pyramid that served as entrance to the Louvre. They nodded without interest as he displayed an imaginary invitation and walked into the main hall.

That pyramid pissed a lot of older Parisians off when it was first built. Yeah, they complain about everything, but since the artsy-fartsy Toreador control the city, you’d think they would’ve prevented its construction. Unless the pyramid’s a Toreador idea, in which case no wonder everyone hated it.

(Parisians are over hating the pyramid these days, so don’t mention it unless you want them to think you’re in their city for one of those Da Vinci Code tours.)

Phantomas muttered a word of thanks to his Roman gods that Villon considered electronic monitoring devices provincial. His psychic camouflage worked flawlessly with humans and vampires. It was useless against cameras or television monitors.

The Louvre doesn’t have any security cameras? None at all?

In Phantomas’ opinion, the Prince was a pompous dandy who wouldn’t recognize true art if it hit him in the face.

Looks like Phantomas agrees with me about Toreador tastes in art.

Master of the Louvre, the finest art collection in history, Villon ignored the treasures of the past for the ephemeral pleasures of the moment.

Alright, In Villon’s defense, I think grandpa here might have some bias.

His mercurial tastes dominated the Parisian fashion scene. He surrounded himself with the most beautiful models in Paris, blood dolls who sipped on blood and dreamed of immortality. Like too many of the Kindred, Villon had never come to terms with his undeath.

I like Phantomas and all, but it’s not Villon sneaking into one of his parties, so what right does he have being judgmental?

But I think I get what Phantomas is thinking. Villon owns one of the most famous historical art museums in the world, but he only cares about celebrity shit and making beautiful but angry-looking women wear weird shit nobody else will actually wear.

The party was being held in the glass-roofed Cour Marley, but Phantomas was in no hurry to go there. Though he had visited the Louvre many times, he never skipped the opportunity to visit the galleries housing the Greek, Roman, and Egyptian antiquities. The museum housed perhaps the finest such collection in the world and, though Phantomas had the face and body of a monster, he possessed the soul of a poet.

This is the real reason he loves these parties so much, isn’t it. Grandpa just wants an excuse to visit the museum for like the billionth time.

Ten minutes he spent staring at the Venus de Milo.

Art appreciation, or the closest he gets to seeing boobs?

He walks around admiring other things, like “Winged Victory of Samothrace”, “Winged Bull”, and the statue of Queen Nefertiti.

The bust of Agrippa drew him to the Roman section. The famous general, the hero of Actium, had served Octavius, the grandnephew of his mentor, Julius Caesar. Staring at the statue made him feel old. Two thousand years separated him from his heritage.

I feel the same way whenever I meet someone born after Spongebob Squarepants first aired.

If not for a chance encounter in Gaul, his children might have fought against Mark Anthony. Or served in the Senate with Cicero.

Not if you stared at potential mothers the way you stared at the Venus de Milo and Agrippa’s bust.

He finishes his tour and finally heads to the party. If you’ve been paying attention to the plot, you know what’s about to happen.

As he drew closer to the courtyard, he frowned. There was no music. Villon’s parties always featured a loud rock band playing the latest hits. Tonight, the corridors were strangely silent.

Nirvana was supposed to play “About a Girl” but Villon kicked them out when Cobain let his turtles wander around and shit everywhere.

A tall, young man slender [sic], with blond hair and bright blue eyes, stood in front of the door leading to the Cour Marley. Dressed in a white suit with an open-necked white shirt, he nodded in greeting as Phantomas approached. It was almost as if he had been waiting for [sic] there for him.

Weinberg’s editor must’ve quit before getting to this chapter, after reading the part about Flavia’s rock hard leather-penetrating nipples. Also, ‘sup Reuben? What’ve you been doing the past two years?

Reuben doesn’t introduce himself. He just warns Phantomas not to go in. Phantomas is shocked that a human is talking to him at all. Mask of a Thousand Faces is supposed to disguise him as someone so boring not even Kindred are interested starting a conversation with him

“The Final Death waits inside,” continued the stranger, evidently not troubled by Phantomas’ concerns. “If you enter, you may never leave.”

“I am no coward,” stated the vampire simply. “After twenty centuries, I fear very little.”

Let’s see if that lasts longer than a page.

The young man smiled. “I suspected you would say that.” He stepped to the side. “Beware the Red Death, Phantomas.”

“Who are you?” asked Phantomas, startled. “How do you know my name?”

But the stranger had vanished. It was as if he had never been there.

Good old Reuben, scaring an old man, the trolling bastard.

Successfully freaked out, Phantomas opens the courtyard doors. To no one’s surprise, everyone’s dead. Even the regular non-ghoul humans.

The smell of charred and blackened human flesh assaulted his nostrils. A horrified glance around the courtyard revealed a dozen bodies of Villon’s favorites, their beautiful features burned beyond recognition. The fashion runways of Paris would be missing a number of familiar faces tomorrow. Mixed among the dead were the remains of twice as many ghouls. Nowhere was there life.

How he’s able to tell the models and ghouls apart, I don’t know.

Villon was gone. As were all other Kindred. However, dark shadows on the ground indicated to Phantomas that more than one had departed the Louvre permanently.

Can the French art and fashion worlds finally recover from the dark and untalented reign of the Toreador?

As if in answer to Phantomas’ unasked question, a gruesome figure stepped from behind the Marly Horses. Tall and lean, he wore a rotted shroud of funeral cloth held together by strips of moldering bandage [sic]. His face was

-that of a long-dead corpse, chalk-white skin, blah blah blah it’s the Red Death.

Slowly, the monster smiled.

“The meddling record keeper,” said the Red Death. He stretched out a skeletal arm. Phantomas could feel the heat thirty feet away. “Your termination will be a fitting conclusion to the celebration.”

Confronted by this horrifying fire monster who just massacred an entire party of vampires, ghouls, and humans, what does the famous Phantomas do? Something that both proves him a hypocrite and the smartest person in this goddamn book.

He hauls ass out of there.

Hundreds of years hiding beneath the streets of Paris had taught Phantomas an important lesson. When threatened, flee. Immediately. Don’t search for alternative solutions, don’t negotiate, don’t look back. Run as fast as possible until you reach safety. It was a basic survival technique that worked in the past. It served him tonight.

Phantomas ran. He burst through the doors of the Cour Marley, raced down the halls leading to the glass pyramid, and sprinted out into the night air without turning his head once to see if he was followed. Short and misshapen, he ran astonishingly fast.

Phantomas doesn’t stop running until he’s safely hundreds of feet underground in one of his tunnels. He escaped the Red Death.

He had escaped for the moment. But Phantomas felt certain he had not seen the last of the monster.

It had named him the record keeper. Somehow it knew of his great project. And the Red Death obviously disapproved.

We’ll find out more about Phantomas’ hobby the next time we catch up with him. For now, Chapter 6 ends on that mystery.

#vampire the masquerade #vampire: the masquerade #vtm #vtmb #world of darkness #blood war

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marcus-and-carter · 8 years ago

Note

All the questions you haven't answered yet??????? 😇

Don’t you flash that angel face at me, Anon, I know you’re hiding horns under there…..

1: My name?

My name is nope. Actually, my name is a bit of a confusing thing for me at the moment since I’m trying to transition. I get called a bunch of things, but you guys can stick to Marcus.

2: Do I have any nicknames?

I got a bunch… Satan, Wolf Pup, Magzy, Zip (there’s more but these are the main ones)

3: Zodiac sign?

Aquarius and rat. WAIT I JUST LOOKED THIS UP??? Apparently, your Chinese zodiac depends on when the Chinese New Year begins. And I was born early enough in the year that I was born before the Chinese New Year. I’m actually a pig! Go figure.

4: Video game I play to chill, not to win?

Risk of Rain. I’ve played it so often that it’s easy for me to win now. But it’s still fun to play. Kinda a repetitive game, but still fun.

5: Book/series I reread?

The Night Angel Trilogy by Brent Weeks (I was actually thinking of rereading it soon). It’s a pretty dark series, but it’s beautifully written. And there’s romance, but it’s not the main focus, so I doubly love it. I’m so sick of reading books where the main focus is romance, guys…. I just want my adventure without the lovey- dovey shit…… (That’s actually kinda hilarious considering I only write and read fanfics based on romance….) Another good series I like to reread is The Ranger’s Apprentice by John Flanagan. It’s an easier read since the target age range seems to be middle school/high school (when I picked the series up) but it’ll alway be one of my favorite series and it’s so well written and captivating that I can’t help but read it again every once and awhile.

6: Aliens or ghosts?

I pick ghosts. I like ghosts better. (Sorry aliens)

8: Favourite radio station?

98.7 LA’s New Alternative. Either that or KROQ or Jack FM. But mostly 98.7. I get most of my music off there or from movies or friends…..

9: Favourite flavour of anything?

Vanilla. Caramel. Eggnog. Lemon. I like French Silk ice cream, as well as strawberry cheesecake and fried green tea. I like lemon or pecan pie. I like green tea pocky. And chai tea. I’m not sure what else…..

10: The word that I use all the time to describe something great?

Awesome. That’s awesome! Or nice, or dude. XD Or all of those at once.

11: Favourite song?

House of the Rising Sun. Good song.

12: The question you ask new friends to get to know them better?

I just kinda weave questions into conversations depending on the situation, so it’s a different question with each friend….. Most of the time, though, I just try to find something we’re both into.

13: Favourite word?

Fool. It’s great. XD I love it. Just falls out of the mouth so easily.

14: The last person who hurt me, did I forgive them?

A minor hurt, yes. A major hurt, no. Mostly because they kept at it even when I said something.

15: Last song I listened to?

I dunno, something by Owl City, listening to them right now, Mike’s playing them on loop while he cooks, they’re pretty awful.

17: Pirates or ninjas?

PIRATES. I love pirates, life on the sea always seemed a lot more interesting than sneaky ninja stuff. I grew up on Sinbad and I even had a couple years where I dressed up as a pirate for Halloween.

18: Movie I watch when I’m feeling down?

I usually turn to Disney or DreamWorks. I like Atlantis and Sinbad and Brother Bear.

19: Song that I always start my shuffle with/wake-up song/always-on-a-loop song?

These are all different for me. I usually just shuffle or start on the song I’m currently into. I have softer music to wake me up, right now it’s Adagio for TRON from the Tron soundtrack by Daft Punk. I always loop new songs or old favorites, different each time.

20: Favourite video games?

Undertale and Overwatch are my obvious ones. But I also love Risk of Rain (have a whole rp based on it with my bestie), Castlevania: Lords of Shadow (I know it’s not a great game, but it was one of my first games), the Dragon Age series, Choice of Robots (I really like text based games), and the Bioshock series. I would play all of these again.

21: What am I most afraid of?

Being rejected by the people I care about and left alone. It haunts me a lot because it’s happened so many times before. It’s why I have a lot of trust issues.

22: A good quality of mine?

I’m extremely loyal to and supportive of my friends.

23: A bad quality of mine?

All the rest of them.

24: Cats or dogs?

Doggos. Doggies. Pup pups. I love them so much. And cats seem to hate me anyway???

25: Actor/actress you trust enough to watch whatever they’re in?

Johnny Depp. He’s a pretty amazing actor, gotta admit. (Plus he’s one of the only actors whose name I remember)

27: Am I in a relationship?

No.

28: Something I miss?

Home. I miss home a lot.

29: My best friend?

@jebuzfish (Elina)

30: Eye colour?

Hazel, though some people say yellow??

31: Hair colour?

I’m naturally a dirty blonde. My hair is dyed black and blue and gray right now.

32: Someone I love?

Elina. Mike. Tori. Evan. Most of it is platonic love (*sing song voice* One of these is not like the others)

33: Someone I trust?

Elina. Evan. I trust Mike and Tori, but not explicitly (sorry, I still love ya guys though)

34: Someone I always think about?

Mike (mostly ‘cause he’s almost constantly with me)

35: Am I excited about anything?

Gonna go traveling soon. Excited for that. Nervous, too. Also excited for this fic Evan is writing for me (fucking amazing dude, I love you)

36: My current obsession?

…..Roadrat……..

37: Favourite TV shows as a child?

Ed, Edd, N’ Eddy. Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends. Danny Phantom. Don’t remember any others at the moment. They don’t make ‘em like they used to.

38: Do I have someone of the opposite sex that I can tell everything to?

Elina. She’s too good to me. I love her, she’s the best.

39: Am I superstitious?

No, but I always seem to end up following other people’s superstitions…

40: What do I think about most?

The future. Art. My future art career. My dog. It’s kinda hard to remember what I think the most about, I have the worst memory and a really fuzzy thought process.

41: Do I have any strange phobias?

Cold water. I hate cold water. I think I explained it some time ago….

42: Do I prefer to be in front of the camera or behind it?

Neither! I suck at taking photos and I hate having my photo taken. But I guess that means if I had to choose, I’d choose behind.

43: Favourite hobbies?

Writing. Reading. Drawing. Hiking…. sleeping…… (I’m tired…….)

44: Last book I read?

Lord of the Changing Winds by Rachel Neumeier (Do all of these ask thingies have this question?)

45: Last film I watched?

XXX: Return of Xander Cage. Just saw it yesterday.

46: Do I play any instruments?

I play guitar. I used to play viola, violin, and piano. Don’t remember much of that, though. Kinda regret dropping it. But hey, at least I’m pretty good at reading music.

47: Favourite animal?

Wolf. I really love wolves. Big shaggy pups.

48: Top 5 blogs on Tumblr that I follow?

@paranoid-fighter , @welcome-to-witchcraft (when did you change your name????), @jebuzfish (even though she barely posts ‘cause she’s busy in school and doing homework….), setheverman, and jamison-junkrat (the last two I’m not tagging because I don’t know them personally and I’m fuckin’ shy….)

49: Superpower I wish I could have?

Shapeshifting. I reaaaaally wish I could shapeshift. It’d be so fucking cool. Transform into anything? Sign me the fuck up.

51: Do I like confrontation?

Nooooope. I try to go out of my way to avoid it ‘cause I generally find myself in a lot confrontation. I shut down easily. It’s not fun at all…..

52: When do I feel most at peace?

In nature, when it’s a nice windy day but it’s still warm out and the sun is setting. There’s just something relaxing about it.

53: What makes me smile?

Bad jokes, cute things, uhhhhhhhh…… my friends. Yeah. (Can’t think of much else at the moment)

54: Do I sleep with the lights on or off?

Both? I actually tend to fall asleep with the lights on, but then I wake up and turn them off. Also, I sleep during the day sometimes (most of the time) if that counts….

55: Play any sports?

Not currently, but I used to play tennis. I was pretty good. I miss playing. :C

56: What is my song of the week?

Human by Rag ‘n’ Bone Man. It’s too catchy for me to ignore.

57: Favourite drink?

Water! I used to go very long periods without water, to the point I’d catch headaches, so I quit most of the other stuff and stick to water nowadays. Also, water is freaking amazing when you’re really thirsty or it’s hot out and it’s just so great.

58: When did I last send a handwritten letter to somebody?

Not since high school, when they made us write for the veterans or deployed soldiers (that stuff was so bullshit, not because it’s a bad thing to do but more because getting half-assed teenagers to write them is just isn’t the best). I’ve written some since then, but never sent them.

59: Afraid of heights?

Nah. I wanna go skydiving, can’t afford to be afraid of heights.

61: What was the last concert I went to see?

Muse, I think. Or was it Black Keys? It was awhile back. But lemme tell ya, Muse knows how to throw an amazing concert. Like wow. Good music and good stage presence? A+++

62: Am I vegetarian/vegan/pescatarian?

None of these, I like my meats too much.

63: What occupation did I want to do when I was younger?

I wanted to be a doctor, and then a vet. Gave those up in high school.

64: Have I ever had a friend turn enemy?

Not that I can think of. I’ve been very picky with my friends.

65: What fictional universe would I like to be a part of?

Ah geez, I dunno…. There’s a lot of different fictional universes I wanna be a part of, I don’t think I’d be able to choose one.

66: Something I worry about?

I worry about a lot. Mostly my youngest pup right now. It’s been awhile since I’ve acquired a new dog, and there’s still a lot I’m learning about her.

67: Scared of the dark?

Yes, but not for the obvious reasons. More because the dark brings quiet and with quiet comes more time for me to spend talking to myself in my head, and that’s never a good thing…

68: Who are my best friends?

Elina. Evan. I’m debating Mike.

69: What do I admire most about others?

How outgoing they are. I like people who are willing to get out there, you know? It’s hard for me myself to get up and get going, so seeing other people do it is kinda astonishing and wow. Just really awesome all together. Really admirable. I love it.

70: Can I sing?

Yes. I used to be in choir when I was a small kiddo, and I may have lost some of that, but I’m still pretty decent today, or at least I’d like to think.

71: Something I wish I could do?

Fly a plane. I love being up in the air, and that’d be a really cool thing to do. :D

72: If I won the lottery, what would I do?

Well, depends on how much I win and how I receive the money. I’d actually probably keep doing what I do now: donate as much as I can, buy a bunch of art stuff or books, and try to save the rest (I’m really awful at that hahaha….)

73: Have I ever skipped school?

Yeah. High school, back in ninth grade. Didn’t do it often though, maybe twice.

74: Favourite place on the planet?

That I’ve been to? Yellowstone has this lake, I don’t remember what it was called but it was down by the petrified tree, and I instantly fell in love. Very pretty, has a small meadow of wild flowers surrounded by the pine woods, lily pads in the water. Hell, it’s almost too beautiful to be real.

75: Where do I want to live?

I’m not sure. Somewhere with trees and snow, but pretty in the summer time. Somewhere quiet. I like Arrowhead, down here in California, but I also love the forest down by Yellowstone.

76: Do I have any pets?

I got 2 dogs, my older dog Bandit (she’s grumpy all the time) and my new pup Chara (she’s a hyperactive fluff ball with sharp teeth)

77: What is my current desktop picture?

I got it cycling through a bunch of pics, but it’s all the basic nature pics on this computer (Mike’s). My home computer is a bunch of fantasy scapes or monster designs.

78: Early bird or night owl?

Night owl. I like the stars.

79: Sunsets or sunrise?

Sunsets. I think they have richer colors, and they turn to night.

80: Can I drive?

Yes. Technically. My license is suspended right now…. I had trouble paying a ticket….. LISTEN, I’M A GREAT DRIVER OKAY? I JUST LIKE TO GO FAST

81: Story behind my last kiss?

It was a goodbye kiss. Nothing more ya need to know.

82: Earphones or headphones?

I’m picky about my headphones, and they’re a lot harder to carry around, so I actually use earphones more. But I prefer headphones.

83: Have I ever had braces?

Nah.

84: Story behind one of my scars?

I was forced to hike up a mountain through the snow, and my dad wouldn’t believe me when I said my boots were digging into me (I wasn’t wearing the right socks), so I know have matching scars on both my ankles that look like I’ve been speared through my Achilles tendons from where my shoes rubbed them bloody. But hey, I made it up the mountain.

85: Favourite genre of music?

Rock. Preferably classic rock.

86: Who is my hero?

My best friend. She’s been there for me through a lot of my troubles, and she’s been such an inspiration for me. It’s hard to believe she’s real sometimes.

87: Favourite comic book character?

I don’t really read comic books really, but between the movies and whatnot, I know a bit. I gotta say Daredevil because that’s who I grew up with.

88: What makes me really angry?

Harassing my friends. I swear, if I ever catch wind of that, you better fucking hope they say they can handle it themselves, or I’m gonna check you into the hospital one way or another.

89: Kindle or real book?

Real book, they smell nice and I like the weight in my hands.

90: Favourite sporty activity?

Swimming, though I prefer to swim in the ocean. I like the water a lot, I like to ride the waves, I like being tossed around and feeling weightless. And it’s kinda hilarious coaxing all my friends who are afraid of the ocean into the deep end where the sand drops off.

91: What is one thing that isn’t tight in schools that should be?

Okay, what the hell does this mean, I’m an old person, what do you mean tight? Do you mean cool? I think places to nap would be cool. I remember that I was always tired in school (college included), and I never really felt safe napping around on the concrete benches and it was always hard to find a teacher who’d let you sleep your free time off in their classroom. It’d be cool to have a designated room with cots or blankets or something for naps.

92: What was my favourite subject at school?

Art. I really loved all art classes I could get my hands on. Following that would be science, I really like knowing the way the world works.

93: Siblings?

Nah.

94: What was the last thing I bought?

Fuck, I dunno. Antibiotics? Ice cream? Food? Probably food.

95: How tall am I?

5′2…. stop reminding me that I’m short……….

96: Can I cook?

Yes, but only basic stuff. I can boil water, make eggs, make chicken, etc. When I try to cook, I apparently don’t do it the correct way (according to Mr. I’m the cook Mike) but it still ends up tasty. (Also Mike actually tries to teach me to cook sometimes, I just don’t pay attention)

97: Can I bake?

Nope.

98: 3 things I love?

Sculpting

Doggos

Mythical creatures

99: 3 things I hate?

Loud or high pitched noises

Cold water

Carrots

100: Do I have more girl friends or boy friends?

Boy friends.

101: Who do I get on with better, girls or boys?

Boys. Girls are weird to understand, especially when they’re super girly. I just don’t get it?

102: Where was I born?

Fairfax, Virginia. I was born on a military base.

104: Where do I currently live?

Not too far from Los Angeles, California

105: Last person I texted?

Mike

106: Last time I cried?

Last night (you don’t need to know why)

107: Guilty pleasure?

I dunno. I don’t really feel guilty about my pleasures, that why they’re pleasures.

108: Favourite Youtuber?

I’m caught equally between Markiplier and Game Grumps.

109: A photo of myself.

You didn’t say which part of myself, so have my blanket-clad leg.

110: Do I like selfies?

No. In fact, I actually hate them…

111: Favourite game app?

Fuck, I don’t really play phone apps anymore. Severed was pretty awesome. I’d play it again.

112: My relationship with my parents?

Mom is dead, hard to have a relationship there. I speak with my dad regularly, but he’s an asshole so I try to avoid him as much as possible.

114: A place I have not been but wish to visit?

Italy. Either Florence or Venice. I’d think it’d be really fun, really cool. I wanna see all the great works of art and the architecture.

115: Favourite number?

Two. It’s my lucky number.

116: Can I juggle?

Kinda? I practice occasionally, so I can do it haltingly.

117: Am I religious?

Nope.

118: Do I like space?

Are… are we talking outer space? Or just having space? I like both…..

119: Do I like the deep ocean?

Hell yeah, weird creatures are amazing.

120: Am I much of a daredevil?

Yes and no? I need a push usually when trying something new but relatively tame (like rollerblading), but I find myself making the really outlandish suggestions (like skydiving) before everyone else

121: Am I allergic to anything?

Hohoho BOY, AM I. I’m allergic to a fuckin’ lot. Here’s a list: Celery, carrots, avocados, tree nuts, jicama, latex, and more…..

122: Can I curl my tongue?

Yep.

123: Can I wiggle my ears?

Nope.

124: Do I like clowns?

Eh. Don’t really have an opinion on them.

125: The Beatles or Elvis?

Elvis, I like more of his music

126: My current project?

Writing a Roadrat fanfic and making a late B-Day present for Mike, as well as doing a couple pieces of art for my friends.

127: Am I a bad loser?

Kinda? If it’s an argument, yes. If it’s a game, nah.

128: Do I admit when I wrong?

Yes BUT ONLY IF YOU CAN PROVE IT.

129: Forest or beach?

Forest. The salt from the beach makes me carsick on the ride home. :C

130: Favourite piece of advice?

I don’t have a favorite? All advice is good advice.

131: Am I a good liar?

Yeah, unfortunately. Grew up lying to keep out of trouble.

132: Hogwarts house / Divergent faction / Hunger Games district?

Hold up, let me take some quizzes. I already know that Pottermore put me in Slytherin. I haven’t ever read or watched the Divergent series, but this quiz says I’m Erudite (that doesn’t really mean anything to me….). I’ve taken a shit ton of quizzes for my Hunger Games district, and they all came up different, but 7 came up twice, so I guess 7.

133: Do I talk to myself?

You know it.

134: Am I very social?

Not very. I don’t like new people and I don’t talk much.

135: Do I like gossip?

Nah.

136: Do I keep a journal/diary?

Not particularly, at least not regularly.

137: Have I ever hopelessly failed a test?

Yes….. I don’t remember which test, but there’ve been a couple.

138: Do I believe in second chances?

Yes. But I’m reluctant to hand them out, and you only get that one extra chance.

139: If I found a wallet full of cash on the ground, what would I do?

Turn it in to whatever place I found it, if it was inside. If it was outside, I’d try to find an identifying number I can call to hand it over.

140: Do I believe people are capable of change?

Yes. But I think it takes some major events to bring it about. It’s hard to change if you just say you’re gonna, and it takes a lot of time and determination. It’s more likely that something major would happen in their life and change them.

141: Have I ever been underweight?

No. Always liked food.

142: Am I ticklish?

Yes. My feet and that really annoying spot just above my knees….

143: Have I ever been in a submarine?

Nnnnope.

144: Have I ever been on a plane?

Yep. Several times. I love flying.

145: In a film about my life, who would I cast as myself, friends and family?

Fuck, I dunno, I don’t know actor’s names

146: Have I ever been overweight?

Yes. I currently am by 60 pounds or so.

147: Do I have any piercings?

Yep. I have 7, all in my ears.

148: Which fictional character do I wish was real?

Fucking Alucard please, gimme that blood-thirsty vampire.

149: Do I have any tattoos?

Nah. But I want a few. Waiting to get in the right body shape before I get them.

150: What is the best decision I have made in life so far?

To start taking care of myself first before I start caring for others.

151: Do I believe in Karma?

Kinda. I believe in it but I don’t let it affect my decisions.

152: Do I wear glasses or contacts?

Neither, though I should be wearing glasses. I haven’t been to an optometrist in about 4 or 5 years. I used to wear contacts, but I gave that up ‘cause they’re expensive.

153: What was my first car?

1997 Acura CL 3.0. I’m still driving it. Great car. Though mine’s a little banged up, had a tree fall on it awhile back and ran over a road sign that tore off the bumper and popped one of my tires.

154: Do I want children?

Nah. Not particularly. Or if I do ever decide to get kids, I’d like to adopt.

155: Who is the most intelligent person I know?

That’s kinda subjective. People are intelligent on different subject matters, so I don’t really have a “most” intelligent person I know.

156: My most embarrassing memory?

Nothing happy, and nothing I’m putting up on Tumblr.

157: What makes me nostalgic?

Driving long periods of time through countryside. I’m talking like 3 hours or more.

158: Have I ever pulled an all-nighter?

Yes, it’s fucking hard.

159: Which do I value more in others, brains or beauty?

Brains. I don’t really care for appearance.

160: What colour mostly dominates my wardrobe?

Black (easy to hide sweat, I get super active unexpectedly sometimes)

161: Have I ever had a paranormal experience?

I’m sure I have, I just can’t remember it.

162: What do I hate most about myself?

Physically? My chest. The rest? I hate the fact that I’m tired all the time.

163: What do I love most about myself?

I don’t really have anything I love about myself…?

164: Do I like adventure?

Yes. I love adventure. It’s great and exciting and fun

165: Do I believe in fate?

I suppose. I don’t really think much on it.

166: Favourite animal?

Wasn’t this asked before? I’ll do fantastic beast instead (not the movie). I really love dragons. They can almost literally be anything, any size, shape, and color. And they’re just really great creatures.

167: Have I ever been on radio?

Nah

168: Have I ever been on TV?

Nope.

169: How old am I?

20, about to be 21. My birthday is Groundhog Day.

170: One of my favourite quotes?

”Quoth the Raven ‘Nevermore’.” (I really just like that whole poem, it flows)

171: Do I hold grudges?

Yes, but not for long. If I have a long-standing grudge against you, you must’ve really fucked up, my friend.

172: Do I trust easily?

Yes and no? I trust people easily, but I don’t give out information about myself as easily, almost never actually.

173: Have I learnt from my mistakes?

Some of them, yeah.

174: Best gift I’ve ever received?

A hug. Seriously, no one believes me when I say I just want a hug for a gift, but a good hug is the best thing ever.

175: Do I dream?

Yeah, but not often, not that I remember.

176: Have I ever had a night terror?

Yes……

178: An experience that has made me stronger?

My mom told me to kill myself in one of our fights once. Really fucked me up mentally, but not much bothers me since.

179: If I were immortal, what would I do?

I dunno, the same stuff I’m doing now. I doubt immortality would give me the motivation to suddenly get up and do stuff…..

180: Do I like shopping?

No.

181: If I could get away with a crime, what would I choose to do?

MURDER, I HAVE A LIST.

182: What does “family” mean to me?

The people that I let close to me, not particularly bound by blood.

183: What is my spirit animal?

Woooolf. Probably. I mean, how the hell am I supposed to know?

184: How do I want to be remembered?

That crazy dude who nice but weird and went on crazy adventures and made crazy good sculptures.

185: If I could master one skill, what would I choose?

Time-management. That’s a skill, right? I need to master that.

186: What is my greatest failure?

Not being able to help my mom.

187: What is my greatest achievement?

Making it through high school alive. (That’s not a joke)

188: Love or money?

Love. I don’t particularly care about being rich.

189: Love or career?

Career. I do care about loving my career and being happy with what I do. I’m more of an independent person anyway.

190: If I could time travel, where and when would I want to go?

ANYWHERE IN THE LATE 1700′S TO EARLY 1800′S LITERALLY ANYWHERE

191: What makes me the happiest?

My dogs and my best friend. They are the greatest.

192: What is “home” to me?

I don’t have a “home” right now. I have places I sleep.

193: What motivates me?

I don’t really have motivation…. One of my many problems……..

194: If I could choose my last words, what would they be?

Fuck

195: Would I ever want to encounter aliens?

I dunno, maybe? If they’re more towards being friendly and helpful instead of trying to harvest this world’s resources like all the movies portray them to do.

196: A movie that scared me as a child?

None. I had no fear as a kid, I developed that in my late teens.

197: Something I hated as a child that I like now?

Brussel sprouts are really fuckin’ tasty

198: Zombies or vampires?

Vampires. I prefer my immortal friends not to be rotting out in the heat and to stay up all night with me without asking for brains.

199: Live in the city or suburbs?

Suburbs. I hate the crowdedness and clutter of the city.

200: Dragons or wizards?

DRAGONS I CHOOSE DRAGONS PLEASE I WOULD LITERALLY GO AROUND KILLING ALL THE WIZARDS JUST TO GET A SINGLE DRAGON

201: A nightmare that has stayed with me?

Too dark for the internet. Involves death followed by murder followed by skinning people.

202: How do I define love?

I don’t know, that’s the trouble with it. I don’t know how to define love.

203: Do I judge a book by its cover?

Nah. Maybe a bit by first impressions, but that’s why I let people have chances.

204: Have I ever had my heart broken?

Yes.

205: Do I like my handwriting?

No, it’s not pretty, but I’m happy that it’s legible.

206: Sweet or savoury?

Fuck. Fuck. I’m stuck between the two. Do I have to choose???? Uhhhhh. UUUUUH. I… I suppose savory. I can get sick of sweet, but I don’t think I can get sick of savory.

207: Worst job I’ve had?

I worked for my dad for a bit, and then he undid all my work. Not an official job, does it count?

208: Do I collect anything?

Bones. I have a small collection of bones (mostly teeth and skulls)

209: Item of clothing or jewellery you’ll never see me without?

I don’t have anything I’ve kept on me for long periods of time. I mean, I guess I’m starting to keep this ring and necklace on a lot, but nothing before these and these were in the past month or so.

210: What is on my bucket list?

I don’t really have a bucket list, I don’t really plan for things…. I just kinda take life as it comes at me.

211: How do I handle anger?

I bottle it up and wait for it to die down before going back and revisiting whatever made me angry.

212: Was I named after anyone?

Nah.

213: Do I use sarcasm a lot?

Do I use sarcasm a lot. Hmmm. Lemme think on it…. Nah, can’t say that I do. (Yes, I use it a whole lot XD)

214: What TV character am I most like?

Ah geez, you want me to start comparing TV characters to myself? I barely even watch TV! I dunno…..

215: What is the weirdest talent I have?

I can make a bunch of weird faces that either usually scare my friends or make them laugh. I dunno if that’s a talent, though….

216: Favourite fictional character?

Alucard. First character I really fell in love with, really…..

Are you happy, anon? This took me two days.Two days (mostly because I sleep a lot but still). This is like the ask list of all ask lists. I don’t even know if there are any more that have questions I haven’t answered. You guys know me better than most of my friends! I’m gonna be off ask lists for awhile. You wanna know something about me, drop an ask in my inbox without a number….

#anon #get to know me #mother of all asks #god this is long #fuck

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