#it’s one line not even a full sentence that exist ONLY to make us not feel bad when they die!!

[absolutehumandisaster]

It’s my brainrot and I get to choose which parts of canon to remove with a hacksaw

[lastoneout]

It really is kinda awful how many job listings will just straight up lie to you about what you "need" to be able to do to screen out disabled applicants. Like fucking Safeway will be looking for a cashier and the listing is like "you ABSOLUTELY MUST be able to stand for 8+ hours a day, NO exceptions" as if you can't do everything required to run the check out line sitting down. Old Navy is like "you must be able to understand body language and facial expressions and make eye contact" like sorry dude I think autistic people can sell t-shirts just fine without doing all that, like honestly what the hell does understanding facial expressions have to do with telling someone where the clearance section is. Don't really think the customers at TJ Max are going to go full Purge mode if one employee can only perform a task requiring fine motor skills 15 times a minute instead of 30, like idk maybe you don't need the lines to move thst fast actually. Maybe everyone can chill out and wait a second. I think the people at Starbucks will be okay if the barista isn't great at multitasking and can't make small talk with every single customer while also running the drive through and making 15 different drinks.

It's such horseshit, none of these job require these things but they can just lie and say they do and disabled people will clear out because we know it's just a big neon sign saying "crippled freaks need not apply", even if that sentence is followed by some fake ass fluff about you being an equal opportunity employer. Like you would not be insisting your underpaid cashiers be able to "make eye contact and understand body language" if you cared about not discriminating against disabled people, that wording specifically is straight out of the DSM-5, what you're doing is fucking obvious and pure goddam evil.

The best part too is then you get denied for SSI benefits because you "can" work, they don't actually care that every single job listing is tailor made to tell us to fuck right off. The potential to be able to work and actually being able to be hired are too different things entirely but sure. I can work. If I find an employer that doesn't care that I'm in a wheelchair and can't make eye contact or life heavy objects or that I need to only work 4 hours a day so I still have the energy to take care of myself outside of work and also have to take 10 days a month off for doctor's appointments and unpredictable health flares. And also crucially does NOT require a fucking degree or drivers license. Find me a job like that that and I'd be overjoyed to work.

But trust me, jobs that can accommodate me simply do not fucking exist, and unfortunately for all of us that is very much by design.

[koiiiji]

author's note ; another day another fic, i feeding my our delusional ass with... yes, i love cold, emotionally unavailable huge man, and?!

starring ; shingen and kid!reader, shintaro being ass as usual in past 2 chapters

the room was dark, illuminated only by the faint, pale light filtering through the paper walls. Yamazaki Shingen sat cross-legged in his kimono, his massive, tattooed frame a shadow in the silence. his eyes were empty, unfocused, lost somewhere far away — a man trapped in his own quiet despondency. once-fearsome leader of the Yamazaki syndicate had withdrawn into himself.

yet, he heard the door slide open, the soft creak breaking the oppressive stillness of the room. at first, he didn’t bother to react. another servant, no doubt, or one of his men, scurrying to avoid the weight of his silence. but then, the sound of small footsteps, lighter than he expected, drew closer. a tiny figure darted in and out of the shadows, barely making a noise, yet somehow tugging at the edges of his attention.

you sneacked the room without hesitation, you were playing some sort of game — hide and seek, perhaps. energy radiating through the heavy stillness like a burst of sunlight. you had been playing with Shingen’s men, even though they hardened by years of servitude, and hadn’t the patience to play properly, so they had likely just told you to hide, hoping to redirect your boundless energy. and now, here you were, running toward your father, blissfully unaware of the gloom that surrounded him.

he frowned, not quite understanding what this strange, fearless presence was doing so close to him. he hadn’t recognized you at first. so small, so out of place in this cold, dreary room. why was a child allowed in his quarters?

but then something clicked in his head.

eyes.

oh, you are his kid

with a soft grunt of effort, you clambered onto his lap, tugging at the fabric of his kimono with your tiny hands. you wriggled around until you were perched comfortably on his knee, giggling to yourself as if this was all part of the game.

Shingen remained still, his massive hands resting idly at his sides. he didn’t push you away, didn’t tell you to leave. he just… let you be.

you poked at the intricate designs on his tattoos, tracing the dark lines with your small fingers. tigers and all patterns that once symbolized power and fear were nothing more than curious drawings to you, something to explore. to you, they were just part of him.

before he could fully process the moment, the door slid open again. Shintaro, entered the room, sharp eyes immediately falling on the small child perched on Shingen’s lap. his expression hardened in a flash.

“what are you doing here?” Shintaro barked, his voice slicing through the room. his usual composed demeanor faltered, clearly irritated at the sight of you. he moved quickly toward you, reaching out to pull you away from Shingen’s unmoving form. “this is no place for you to —”

before Shintaro could finish, Shingen’s voice rumbled, low and firm, cutting through the tension like a dull blade.

“she’s just a kid.”

it was more of a grunt than a full sentence, but it stopped Shintaro in his tracks. he glanced at his brother, surprise flickering in his eyes. Shingen’s face remained impassive, his gaze never leaving the far wall, but there was no mistaking the subtle command in his words. it was the first sign of awareness — of anything — Shintaro had seen from him in a long time.

for a moment, Shintaro hesitated, unsure of what to make of the situation. Shingen, who had barely acknowledged the existence of his children before, was now… allowing this? a small girl, climbing all over him as though she belonged there, and Shingen didn’t push her away, didn’t scold her, didn’t so much as flinch.

Shintaro’s brow furrowed, his hand still hovering near you, but he slowly pulled it back. he wasn’t used to seeing his brother like this, and he didn’t quite know how to respond. Shingen had retreated so deeply into himself that any kind of engagement felt foreign — alien.

you, oblivious to the tension between the adults, tugged at Shingen’s sleeve once more, small fingers tracing the patterns of his tattoos. you giggled softly, as if the weight of the room didn’t affect you in the slightest.

Shingen’s large hand twitched, barely perceptible, as though considering whether or not to move. but in the end, he did nothing, letting you play with the fabric of his sleeve. his expression remained unchanged, but the fact that he hadn’t brushed you off was enough for Shintaro to take note.

after a long pause, Shintaro sighed, the sharpness in his eyes dulling. he stepped back, crossing his arms as he took in the scene — his towering, silent brother, and the small, curious girl who had somehow wormed her way into his lap without a word of protest.

“i see,” Shintaro muttered, almost to himself.

Shingen didn’t respond. he remained quiet, still trapped in the cocoon of his own thoughts.

and in the quiet of the room, Shingen let his daughter stay.

[calisources]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All sentences and quotes have been taken from different media about starcrossed lovers or forbidden love, full of angst, some bold words, some nasty ones, possessive nature and letting someone use you as a replacement. So, some toxic energy in this one. Change pronouns, locations and names as you see fit.

I love you,and I will love you until I die,and if there's a life after that,I'll love you then.

Do people always fall in love with things they can't have?

And there is a difference between having your heart break and having your soul shatter.

I'm falling in love with you.

I'm going to fuck the shit out of you. I have waited for this for such a long time. Consequences be damned.

These violent delights have violent ends.

 I’m only human. And you are …all-consuming.

Don’t go into this lightly. If you’re mine, you need to understand I will burn the fucking world to the ground for you.

I will never let you go, do you hear me? 

 will keep you safe. And I will find a way for us to be together.

If you make me cry at my own coronation ball, I’ll never forgive you.

If you were any less the man you are, I would beg you to take me with you.

If you were any less the woman you were, I would beg you to come with me.

I've known lust. This is something worse. This is a barbaric need to possess, to eliminate, to own. This is madness.

This is lust.

She’s your very own forbidden fruit.

You said you didn't want this.

We all desire what we cannot have.

Have you noticed how the boy looks at you?

Do you think I didn’t notice? The way you look at me when you think I’m not watching?

You are dangerous desire, and I am your prisoner.

We can’t do this on so many levels.

I can't even whisper her name, my heart would burst out of my chest.

But I would fight against the stars for you.

I have ruined your life.

Some lines you just don't cross. 

I want to take you under the moonlight.

Having something forbidden is exciting, don't you agree?

The closer we get—the more I let you in…the more dangerous this gets.

Don’t you get it? You’re what everyone wants! But I’m not going to let them win.

Make it so I never have to dream about this again—make it so we can have this…forever.

Desires are what can most easily ruin us, lovely.

We were doomed from the start. 

Nothing is as deadly as the love of a powerful man.

But this kiss? It's ruined me. This is the type of kiss I never knew existed. 

You sure about that, Dad? Because he's done everything to me.

Are you scared of me now?

You loved me - then what right had you to leave me?

I have not broken your heart - you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine.

One moment, you give me everything that I want, and in the next, you snatch all of that away.

It's hopeless. We can never work out.

The world didn’t want us together so I forged a new one where we would.

How could a peacock lust for a lion?

You're tattooed onto my skin, and the more I try to erase you, the deeper you sink in.

I’ve always liked you, from the first moment I saw you.

It's absurd how crazy love can make you...but even more absurd how stupid jealousy can make you.

 That you and I are meant to be together, but never meant to be.

Why does fate seem always to conspire against us? To deny us life's simple pleasures?

We'll meet after this war. I'll certainly find you wherever you'll hide. 

War makes fools of men and women wanton.

What offends you most, Father? That she's Catholic, or that she's poor?

If my father discovers you here, he'd cut off your little nuts and eat them. He can't stand you.

You tempress, I see you once and all I can think of is having you.

Feelings are forbidden, does not mean we cannot enjoy one another.

The more you deny me, the more I desire you. You are a plague in my mind.

Ever since we met, no one else can compare. 

How can I be with someone else, when I’m with them, it’s you I see.

You can have me, think of whoever you love. For tonight.

You can pretend I'm her/him. I don't care. I just want you.

[perseruna]

Endiness made a beautiful long post with all his quotes on that topic that I think is very informative and worth looking at, so here’s a link to that. And with that already discussed, I thought I’d make a thread of all his changes that we are aware of, because when you look into them, you find that none of his “book accurate” changes are actually book accurate. 

His decision to make Geralt grunt and cut his lines.

HC: "All the grunts, I either added or I didn't say anything and just grunted instead. It was often up to the other actors to go, 'I think he's not gonna say anything now.'"

JB: "Henry likes to cut his lines, 'cause he's lazy. No, he literally just likes to cut them. He likes to do more up here [frames his face with his hands] and just with face and hmms and grunts. There's a lot of hmms, and so I often have to take a lot of his lines and turn it into a lot of my stuff so that the plot happens."

So, as everyone who has read the books knows that Geralt is and always has been a yapper. Gerakt often talks or thinks in monologues, and definitely not in short grunts.

Of course when the audience started making fun of Geralt for not being able to speak in full sentences Henry promptly went back on admitting the blame and instead said that the big bad writers were the ones who didn't give him lines, and now it was his life’s mission to fight for a book accurate Geralt who speaks. 

Roach’s death scene

After S2 came out, Lauren received a lot of backlash for Roach’s death scene, with multiple sources citing that she wanted the moment to be more “comedic” before the brave Henry Cavill stepped in and refused to participate in such horrible anti source material activities.

LH: "Henry was so unhappy with the line. Finally I said, 'You know what, you come up with something. I trust you, you know this material so well, you know the book so well, you don't even have to pitch it to me.' And he came back the next day with a beautiful speech that's at the end of 'Sword of Destiny' when Geralt is facing death.”

This is the line he ended up using:

“Enjoy your last walk across the meadow and through the mist. Be not afraid of her for she is your friend."

This was Lauren’s response AND the original line.

LH: “Here's what was scripted, in homage of the fact that a previous Roach had existed, and another one will exist soon. It's hardly a joke. Henry wanted a longer, more emotional moment, which I was more than happy to give him. Don't create drama where none exists.”

So in S2 Geralt ends up quoting a part of his monologue from ‘Sword of Destiny’ when he’s at his lowest after thinking that Yennefer had died at the battle of Sodden Hill, and he has nothing left to live for. Which to me doesn't work that well with Roach at all. That line was a response to Geralt thinking he's lost the love of his life, not his horse. In my opinion, the original line Lauren penned out is more heartfelt and actually more emotional and more book accurate as well.

The absolute removal of any Triss and Geralt “romance”

This one we don’t have that much information on in comparison to others. But there were multiple reports that at the beginning of S2 Triss and Geralt were supposed to have some kind of a romantic scene with each other which then was cut during production, and it was largely speculated that it was due to Henry Cavill. 

“Several months ago we reported on a sex scene happening between Geralt and Triss, sometime in the first half of Season 2. That didn’t happen, as we all saw, but here’s what we know about the original plan for that: Geralt and Triss are in a room together, they seem friendly at first. They are playing some kind of weird game. Whoever wins a round, gets to ask a question. We’re not privy to the exact flow of the conversation, but it eventually leads to both of them ending up in bed. We can only guess why this was cut, but perhaps it was thanks to Henry Cavill.”

Now, irrelevantly on your feelings on book Triss and Geralt you have to admit that that short-lived “romance” is indeed a part of the books and therefor book accurate. So the removal of it would go against Mr I’m fighting to make this show as much book accurate as possible. 

The removal of the Yen and Geralt sex scene in S2

"We just wanted to be very careful that it was true and real, and it didn't turn into something that we, as actors, didn't believe it should be," Cavill stated. When Yennefer and Geralt unite, they embrace, but it doesn't go further than that. He continued: "We wanted it to be emotional rather than sexual. It was really, really important, and we had to lean away from what was originally on the page." Initially, Geralt and Yennefer were written to have a more passionate night. Henry Cavill and Anya Chalotra went to "The Witcher" producers and explained why they thought a steamy evening was not the way to go. "These are people who believe one thing about the fate of another and then find out something else is true," Cavill said about Geralt believing Yennefer was dead. "That's not how they behave," the actor added. "How they behave is they just want to be with the person and emotionally recognize their existence again in that shared space.”

This one is a bit tricky because I am willing to get behind an actor who doesn't want to do a sex scene out of comfort reasons or whatnot, but Henry saying that "That's not how [Yennefer and Geralt] behave”, is quite absurd in my opinion. Because that is very much how Geralt and Yennefer behave, especially in the short stories and ToC. They are inherently a very sexual couple who come crashing in and out of each other’s lives while having very passionate sex. But I can understand wanting this scene to be more “emotional” (as if sex isn't emotional), so this one I am willing to give him a bit more leeway on. (But then again looking at the blinds saying that he refused any sex scenes because oh his “ideals” and was allegedly really nasty to Anya about it, well..)

Geralt being the perfect father figure to Ciri with no flaws and no struggles (which inevitably snowballed into the Yen Betrayal Arc)

This one I don’t see talked that much at all, and to me this one is his most detrimental one. 

@LHissrich: “In interviews, Henry explains how he felt strongly that Geralt NOT be bumbling, nor a struggling father figure. In fact, a lot of S2 is about how Geralt does come from a loving (albeit unconventional) family. Henry was passionate about this shift, and we discussed it a lot, and ultimately thought it was wonderful for his character development. But it also had the domino effect of changing what Ciri needed from Yen when she entered the picture. Thus, introducing the idea of balance.”

So I don’t know about you, but I love when characters have flaws and naturally progress be it for good or bad, some would say that that's what story telling is about, well that someone wouldn't be Henry Cavil. Geralt being a struggling father figure at first, someone who makes mistakes and learns from them and tries is very much a prominent theme in Blood of Elves and is actually very real, people make mistakes! Especially in huge shifts such as “becoming a father overnight’ but we didn't get that because Henry refused to play it that way. What we got is Geralt who already basically knows exactly how to parent, he always knows what to say, what pep talk to give and also doesn't hold any resentment and any negative feelings towards Vesemir at all. It's all one dimensional happy family here! Which goes against not only the books but what he preached about fighting tooth and nail to make the “forgotten” male characters three-dimensional as well because the horrible feminist Lauren only thinks about female characters. 

Lauren then goes on saying that “it also had the domino effect of changing what Ciri needed from Yen when she entered the picture. Thus, introducing the idea of balance” So, it is fair to speculate that Henry’s refusal to showcase Geralt having any flaws at all and act book accurate snowballed into The Controversial Yennefer Betrayal Arc. 

These are the ones that I can remember off the top off my head, so there might be more, there’s probably more that we aren’t even aware of. I think putting them all together showcase a very interesting picture. One of Henry Cavill never actually understanding who Geralt fundamentally is as a character, and of him not being a team player at all. I just hope that more and more people are aware of the insane PR his team did for him when it came to this show, and that more people are able to see through it. 

[jadehaven]

Elrond and Galadriel S2 are not the same Elrondriel from S1.

I just started my rewatch of season 1 of ROP, and immediately my interpretation of their relationship has elaborated since the events of season 2. Warning you, this is a long post, but let’s jump in ↴

S1E01

There’s one specific line that made me realize how the distance between them over the last centuries has changed their relationship. Galadriel says to Elrond:

“Why Elrond, you really have become a politician.”

This demonstrates that before their time apart, their dynamic was different. He wasn’t always this pristine, polished and polite elf. It’s almost like he is leaning *too* much into his elven side, and he’s gotten used to using it as a front. To me, it’s almost as if Galadriel misses the human side of him, but it’s been well packed away now since she’s been gone.

My interpretation is that his human side is where his weakness for Galadriel really lies. By putting it away while she’s gone, he’s made it easier to accept that they will always be different— half elf vs full elf. She will be resilient in a way which he cannot. And, she will be leaving. It’s much easier to part with someone you deeply care for if you deny the part in you that would beg them to stay if you could.

When he says to her “What you have always been; *my friend*. It pulls us out of the moment to recognize that this is where they are now, established in their “careers” so to speak, but it is not where they’ve always been. They’ve accepted that this is as far as their relationship will go, this is the full extent of their need for each other.

“What you have always been: my friend.” is also “This is the most we will ever be in this life: friends.”

They’ve never considered anything more because they have accepted that this is where the story ends. She’s a soldier, he’s a politician. But like I said, they weren’t *always* this, and perhaps, during the time of “what you have always been* there was the fleeting, yet gleaming possibility of *more*.

The days when Elrond and Galadriel would sit under the trees, Elrond reading poetry and practicing languages. Galadriel making fun of him, and other times resting in the wake of his voice- some of the only times she truly *could* rest.

Chasing each other around the river, play fighting until one is over the other, because once there was no “pristine and polished”, there was only her half human friend. The only one who saw and understood her brashness, her grief, her misalignment.

There was Elrond, who’s hunger for knowledge allowed him to catch up with Galadriel, maturing further than she, in wisdom beyond his years. The elf who one day, instead of pining her down by the strength of his hands, put her in her place with his words.

But after everything? They’ve spent so much time apart that they forgot those versions of them even existed.

The version of them where Galadriel can recognize Elrond’s words in the High King’s speech, so much so that she turns to him only to catch him mouthing the words. A split second smile that says “I know you better than anyone else.”

By the time they reunite, only a fraction of who they were are who they are together remains. And oh, how he misses it. But wisdom would be to stay where he is, and for her to go where she needs to go. And without Galadriel, there is no reminder of his human side. There is no need of it. So he will continue on as a politician elf, and nothing more. He will finally make something of himself that is worthy to be proud of.

Except, that this is actually a *second chance* story, and it doesn’t end here.

“I’ve missed you.”

The weight in that sentence. The truth that comes forth— realize, that this is a form of grief, a grief that the human in him understands. His elven side should know that he will see her again one day in Valinor, and that all is well. But not all that is in him has been put to rest. That little bit of peredhel, the faces and words that come out only when he’s deep in the mines of a mountain, far from where the sky can see him, comes out around her.

“Galadriel! It’s Elrond!”

“Prove it.”

Prove to me that you are still you, and I am still me, and we are still who we are to each other, because being with you is the only place I truly feel safe. Prove to me that that place is not lost, that I can still come back to it.

If only it was that easy.

S2

“You were my friend!.”

Why is her betrayal so personal? Some would say my perspective is far fetched, but there has to be an explanation as to why it hits to deep. Was it that trust was broken? That she didn’t listen— but wouldn’t that affect all the elves? Why does he say this one line?

Because he’s said it to himself for centuries, and he was ready to get to stop. And now she’s back, and his peredhel is back, and he has to decide what he’s going to do if he has to spend thousands more years either at or away from her side. ‘How could you stay? Why would you make it that much harder for me? For us?���

Oh, and in the mean time, she fell for the Dark Lord. He could see the affect he had on her.

She’d rather have *Sauron himself* over her *best friend*?

I’d be pissed too.

“It was entirely of your choosing.” ‘Why do I know that? Because of course you’d choose a fighter, unlike me. Of course you’d choose a human, because you like that about me. Of course you’d choose him, when you could’ve chosen me.’

“If this friendship ever meant anything to you… then you’d leave.” Sigh. He’s so tired of being just her friend.

And that is why the tension builds. That is why it’s so personal. But even in their quarrelling, there is hope, because finally, *finally* after years and years and years apart, they are the closest they’ve been to who they were before. The “I can see right through you” type of bickering. The “You’re a pain in my ass, but also the most important person to me.” kind of love. It hurts, but I’d reckon it’s better than the Polished Politician Elf and Vengeful Warrior Princess roles they were playing whilest apart.

And so it goes, as usual in a second chance story, they have the chance to either pretend for another few thousand years that the love they have for each other can still fit squished tightly inside the little box of “friendship”, or, let the walls come down and accept that you simply cannot live without loving this person to full capacity. In this case, well… let’s just say another word for *tension* is *denial*.

Maybe, a part of Elrond realizes the truth too late. Maybe only the human side of him realizes it, but it’s just enough to put a crack in the glass. Just enough to let a little bit of love bubble out and into his hands, to reach for her face, and then into his lips, to reach for hers, before retreating again. In that moment, they’re finally where they always were meant to be. If he sees her again, he will put it right. No more tension, only truth. The glass is broken and eventually all the walls will come down, one by one— starting with saving her life, even if it means denying that “oh so sure, prestigious elven wisdom” that courses through his veins.

With everything stripped away, they’re not who they were at the beginning of season 1. But I would argue, that who they were together in season 1 was not who they really are at all. Now we finally see Galadriel, as the Lady of Light, and Elrond Peredhel. Both coming around to accept their full selves, which will in turn, perhaps, allow them to accept the love they have for each other.

Maybe after nearly losing each other 3 times, they’ll come around to the fact that their story has much more weight then they’d imagine, and thus, finally finish what Tolkien put away in a box decades ago. I guess only time will alone tell, but in that time, I’ll hold onto my hope.

Thanks for reading :)

JH

[soracities]

oooh please tell us what writing rules are garbage I would love to hear more

it's not that they're garbage, which isn't what i said, just that they annoy me and even then what annoys me is not the "rules" themselves (because i do believe they can be useful depending on what you're writing) but when some of them are put out as the only way to write something as if storytelling is a one-size fits all approach, as if you can reduce the millenia-long history of literature into a fail-proof formula that will work for all writing across all cultures with no room for experimentation.

i think there are as many ways to tell a story as there are stories and how you tell something and the kind of language you use will vary depending on what language actually means to you as a writer. hemingway and faulkner both famously took digs at each other for their styles (even though i think there was a lot of admiration between them) but they are also two very different writers with two completely different approaches to language and how they use that language to say the things they want to say: neither is inherently better, or more right, than the other--their approaches were just right for them; if faulkner wanted to write using the "older, simpler, better" words hemingway loved, he would have. if james joyce wanted to depict dublin the way dickens depicted london, he would have done so. but they didn't.

someone once posted an excellent breakdown by jeff vandermeer of the different writing styles employed by different authors which i was silly enough not to save at the time, but in it he gives an overview of the structure of their sentences, and how complicated or "rich" the language is, without pitting one style against the other. and to be honest, i think writing advice that encourages you to examine and look at that relationship with language, and what it holds for you (and others) and why, is probably more helpful than blanket statements like "stay away from ambiguity" or "avoid long sentences" because neither of those actually mean anything--a sentence is a vessel but it's also a tool, like a hoghair brush or a palette knife; the value of its impact is not an essence that exists in and of itself, but entirely dependent on how you use it, otherwise all literature would just read the same way.

strict adherence to a particular form or structure within a language does not automatically make for better writing, especially not when so much literature actually consists of, and is built from, works and authors actively rebelling against those same traditional forms and structures (but which is also not to say that those forms and structures are inherently useless, either). you can say that long sentences "risk distraction" or are "ineffective" but then where does that leave someone like laszlo krasznahorkai, whose prose runs on like some kind of breathless, hypnotic incantantion for 20, 30 pages without a single full stop in sight? or a book like solar bones by mike mccormack which is made up of a single sentence going on for 200 pages? i'm not saying long sentences can't be boring or tedious, but in all honesty so can short sentences--so can any writing that follows the "rules" to the letter. if something is poorly written, the "rules" matter very little; if it's well written, they matter even less.

all that said, telling people to "avoid long sentences" is not inherently a bad thing because i think the core of it is wanting to ensure your writing remains clear, which is a fair point--but it's an issue, to me at least, when it turns into one of those dictums or pronouncements that actively narrows the potential range language can actually have. clarity is not always about length, or whether or not you cull all of your run-on lines--mihail sebastian drew a very nice distinction in one of his novels when he said "[is] there’s a single way of being clear? A notary can be clear, or a poet, but they don’t seem to me the same thing". a long sentence can be clear, but its clarity exists on different terms to a sentence that is five words long, because its relationship to its content is different. and at the end of the day, that relationship is really what it's about for me and it's distinct to each work and its author.

writers use the language and form they use that best allows them to say what they want to say. no one in their right mind is going to dismiss zadie smith for not writing like angela carter or angela carter for not writing like hemingway or hemingway for not writing like beckett or beckett for not writing like mallarmé. robert frost and sara teasdale were no more correct than the beatniks were. i love pared down, beautifully concise prose, but i also adore books that relish in language and all the various, multi-coloured layers of it, books that eschew (traditional) plot and books that question their own form and the reality of that form, and books that tell a story as straightforwardly as possible.

to be honest i think one of the most formative things i came across, years ago now, was this piece by gary provost, which really sums up the whole notion of "writing rules" for me:

this is not about do's or dont's. it even breaks the first writing rule i learnt in school ("never begin a sentence with 'And'"). but what it does is center an intimate understanding of language, where it can go and how it can get there, and what you want that to do. that's where it's at for me!

[magentagalaxies]

Kids in the Archive: Episode 10

welcome back to kids in the archive! to celebrate my college graduation + KITA's 10th installment + finally honor the request i received from @oliviaskithworld multiple months ago (thank you for your patience!) today i'm going to be showcasing the classic s1e3 sketch "Citizen Kane"

even if there are other sketches that i would choose as my personal favorite, i respect "citizen kane" so much as a feat of comedic timing. the premise and dialogue are funny enough, but what puts them over the top is the perfect rhythm kevin and dave establish - fast-paced dialogue that's occasionally repetitive in its text but each repetition leads to escalation in the performance.

Citizen Kane: June 3rd 1989

I actually have two copies of the script for Citizen Kane: both dated 06/03/89, and nearly identical, to each other and to the version of the sketch that aired. There really aren't many differences to point out: some sentences are shorter or longer for the purpose of timing, and there is one specific line missing from the "white" pages that's present in the "pink" pages

i assume the version i have may not be a first draft - this was likely a scene performed at the rivoli for years before making it to the screen. or perhaps this scene was mostly created via improv, so the first time on paper was less an act of creation and more documenting what already existed. the only "big" changes are removing a section of brief physical comedy before picking up the newspaper (which was not being held by another customer).

honestly, as much as i wish i could've honored this request in a timely manner, the wait has allowed this episode to be so much better. this could have been it. i would have had to stretch these tiny differences into 3 bullet points because i just couldn't show you how the sketch evolved. except, as i write this on december 21st 2024, now i can. but we have to push a bit further...

Citizen Kane: ~2002

the kids in the hall tour-film "tour of duty" was unavailable to stream for most of this year before finally being reuploaded by a fan in november. i've previously put out a full essay with general thoughts on tour of duty, but let's examine the show's version of citizen kane.

tour of duty's "citizen kane" barely changes, especially compared to some of the other sketches in this show. sure, the words don't always line up exactly and the rhythm is a bit slower (a product of enunciating for a large theater vs recording a sketch for television), but most changes are physical. in the original sketch, a fake-arm was made for dave foley for the purposes of stabbing his hand. in this one, a prop-knife was used for the effect, freeing up both hands for motioning. most notably, this version ends with dave falling out of his chair and flipping 360 degrees before landing on the floor.

immediately following the sketch is a transitional scene with bruce and mark, where they essentially replicate the "citizen kane" bit of forgetting a name and refusing to admit you're wrong, only this time they're trying to remember the name of the sketch they just watched. it's cute.

Citizen Kane: November 25th 2024

so that's all well and good, but still not a lot of differences to parse through. what would it take for them to take citizen kane in a completely different direction?

well, what if 22 years later the kids in the hall reunited to put on a show in support of paul bellini's medical expenses, but dave foley wasn't able to attend due to pneumonia and the other kids barely had time to rehearse?

a high-quality version of the full show will be available in the new year, but recently i found a fan's uploads of a few iconic sketches from the november 2024 show, including the perfect finale to my citizen kane post, because oh boy did they go off-script. for starters, the original "citizen kane" as uploaded onto youtube is 4 minutes and 16 seconds. the "tour of duty" version (not counting bruce and mark's tag) is just under 6 minutes long. the november 2024 version is NEARLY TEN MINUTES LONG

and uniquely i am actually in a position to explain how these changes happened: scott was chosen to take over dave's part in the sketch the day of the show. they added mark walking on as "constable bobby" as a way to acknowledge dave's absence (and i was actually riffing with mark, kevin, and scott when they decided the character's name. in rehearsal, mark improvised a bit about his character going undercover as a teenager). but scott responding to kevin's "was it citizen kane?" with "yes"? bruce walking on as another officer? kevin kissing scott's forehead when scott apologized for forgetting his line? that was all truly improvised, and i was standing backstage watching it happen.

prior to the show, citizen kane was one of the sketches scott was the most nervous about since it's actually quite difficult to memorize: so much of the comedy relies on repetition and timing. i've probably watched the sketch more times in the past year than he has and even i wouldn't get it word-for-word. but once you're out there onstage, you can't beat yourself up over forgetting a line. you make that part of the gag, and suddenly the sketch becomes citizen kane on top of citizen kane: a sketch about someone forgetting something and ignoring their friend's corrections becomes about scott forgetting his lines and ignoring kevin's corrections.

there's no way the kids in the hall could've replicated everything about citizen kane on the evening of november 25th 2024: the sketch was at least 35 years old, it was being performed with minimal sets and costumes in a 1500-seat theater, and the person whose comedic voice it most represented wasn't around. but in my opinion, citizen kane 2.0 reflects exactly what a live version of a pre-existing kids in the hall sketch should be: using the well-known framework as a basis for improv while still being grounded to the important beats. this attitude carried over into the night's other sketches, even ones which didn't feature dave at all like "salty ham." it gives fans new and old something new to appreciate, and allows the KITH to focus on making each other laugh. after scott got off the stage, he wasn't upset for flubbing citizen kane. he was smiling ear-to-ear, whispering to me "i forgot how fun this was". i would take this over "tour of duty" any day

or maybe i'm just saying that because i now own 2024 citizen kane's prop-knife

oh, and don't think i've forgotten the one line that changed between my two scripts, both dated 06/03/89.

"that's a hayley mills vehicle, that's not even close"

and because of scott's role in the 2024 show, i now know that's the one line HE contributed, leading me to believe the "white" pages were just kevin and dave's writing, and the "pink" pages were after the input of the other KITH on the same day.

god, i love how things become full-circle.

...

PREVIOUS KIDS IN THE ARCHIVE EPISODES:

Episode 1 - armada finale ("do we make it?") Episode 2 - fran & gordon: the vacation Episode 3 - comfortable Episode 4 - cathy & kathi: is he? Episode 5 - danny husk: kidnapped! Episode 6 - trappers Episode 7 - sizzlers & the bank Episode 8 - darcy & francesca Episode 9 - show within a show

thanks for reading!

[dark-elf-writes]

Suggestion for drabbles since I don't recall if you've done it before:

Assassin's Creed x Dragon Age. Because it just hit me that the memory-reading Animus could be compared to blood magic (literally since its reading stuff in your blood and while I don't know the full details on the function, it seems like body/mind control might have enough similarity with animus burning memories of your ancestors in your head to count) and the Templars are basically Completely Unchallenged in their power over... well, influence or history whereas the Circles's (nominally anyway) are publicly and knowingly tied to a religion structure.

Whether it's a AC character yeeted into DA, vice versa, or a fusion. Take your pick.

“So, you glow.”

Desmond pretended not to look at the man (the dwarf) sitting across the fire, instead fidgeting with his hidden blade. The mechanism had jammed sometime in the last fight anyway, and it was with Altair’s practiced hands that he tended to the weapon.

“It’s a long story.”

Varric laughed, even as his hand didn’t stray too far from Bianca. “They usually are. Fortunately I make my business in stories… among other things.”

Desmond didn’t know where to start, how to put the Animus, war between Templars and Assassins, and the three assassins who had taken the place of their memories in a skull that was already filled with to bursting, into words that someone from a world where chamber pits still existed.

Then again, he had been forced to explain it to his three mental roommates… and dragons apparently existed here so….

That… still wouldn’t explain the arm, blackened as if he had shoved it into an open flame (or directly into the fucking sun) and threaded with golden circuits that were several hundred if not thousand years ahead of their time.

“You’re not a mage,” Varric, thankfully seemed to take pity on him at least a little. “I’ve never seen one so… stabby who wasn’t—.” He broke off all at once some of the reading light dying in his eyes.

Maybe Desmond wasn’t the only one with a long story to tell.

“I was… captured. Experimented on. They… changed me. Put memories in my head that weren’t my own and gave me…” he waved rather than finish the sentence before going back to the hidden blade, cursing in Italian as it stayed stubbornly jammed.

In his head Altair scoffed and called him a novice whose was less than helpful.

“Memories or a demon?”

Desmond laughed a little. “They’ve been called that, but while they are killers threaten killers with a creed.”

“You have Crows in your head?”

This time when Desmond laughed it was full and deep. “Let’s call them eagles,” His voice was filled with mirth and his head full of laughter and irritated grumblings. “But I’m serious about the Creed. We don’t kill innocents.”

“And who decides who is innocent?”

“Who decides that for you?” Desmond shot back with a pointed look at the monster of a crossbow that Ezio was dying to get his metaphorical hands on. Something about Leonardo having made something similar. “Normally the ones that are innocent are the ones not actively trying to kill me at that particular moment… normally. It can get a bit complicated.”

“And when you decide someone isn’t innocent?”

Desmond shrugged, “A knife to the heart hasn’t failed me yet.”

Varric was quiet for a long moment, then huffed a laugh. “Anyone ever told you you think in straight lines?”

The mechanism unjammed and Desmon grinned. “They didn’t seem to think it was nearly as much of a good thing as you do.”

“Trust me, with the person I’m after, the ability to cut straight through twisting words is exactly the kind of thing I need. I could use the help if you’re willing.”

It was strange, being asked instead of being told. Desmond couldn’t remember a single time in his life something had been a request.

At least this time he wouldn’t have his brain scrambled… probably.

“Fuck it, I have nothing better going on.”

Varric’s smile was wide as he set Bianca to the side, still within easy arms reach but far enough away that he couldn’t shoot Desmond before he could move. Not that he could have if he had the crossbow pressed against the back of Desmond’s head, but the gesture what seen and understood all the same.

“Welcome aboard, Rook. How do you feel about pissing off a god?”

Desmond Miles tipped his head back and laughed.

[amymbona]

hii I wanted to make a request for Arthur from La chimera where reader is the younger sister of Beniamina who has been secluding herself from her family and others since her sister’s disappearance. she’s very soft spoken and shy. she finds comfort in Arthur when he returns from jail and the lines between them begin to blur from a friendship to a romance 🥲🥲 rlly hope that makes senseee

THAT'S SUCH A GOOD IDEA WHAT THE HELL. THE TRAGEDY OF IT. 😫😫😫😫😫

Ever since the disappearance of your sister, you haven't spoken a full sentence, completely secluding yourself from the outer world. And not just that. You've completely abandoned your past life, got rid of all the hints that have ever resembled your sister.

Out of the whole family, you are definitely the one grieving the hardest. Most of your siblings, even your mother seem to have accepted the current circumstances and got adapted to the life without Beniamina. But you're unable to do so.

Despite erasing every single hint of your sister's existence, which you initially thought was going to help you cope, you're totally unable to move on. Locked in the crumbling shack left after Beniamina's late boyfriend who you haven't heard of for good three years, you only go out to use the shittier, even tinier shack to resemble a toilet stall. Other than that, it's possible to say you haven't seen the sunlight in years.

The quiet, from the other perspective tranquil, way of living is disturbed on a random January night when the floorboards freak under a pair of heavy footsteps. With a startled gasp, you snap awake and almost fall down from the bed, immediately reaching a lighter to provide you with some light in the dark night.

In front of you, his figure outlined by the moonlight that peeks through the cracks in the walls stands the man you haven't seen for so many years. The lanky englishman with his usual pouty expression and slouched shoulders as he's struggling to fit under the low ceiling of the room. And he seems to be equally as bewildered as you to discover someone occupying his past home.

It could be read in both of your expressions, the dreamy glow in your eyes, the slight part of your lips and the way both of you release a shaky breath. It's so evident that some hidden parts of you two were longing to be met with the sight of one person only. And both of your hearts break to discover that mysterious intruder on the other side isn't Beniamina.

Without a word, you scramble out of bed and tumble towards Arthur, falling right into his chest. His arms envelop you instantly, face buried in your hair as your clutch tightly onto the linen of his jacket. The hold is tight, so tight that you two might actually blend into one another with the force he is pulling you into him, both of you seeking another person's body within the embrace.

You stand like this for so long, saying absolutely nothing, because no words at needed. Both of you know what you feel, what exactly is going on in your minds and how disappointed you two are to face the other person. That night, you fall asleep, for the first time in years, held and comforted by the warmth of another, not shivering under the assault of the winter air.

Over the next few days, your life improves significantly. The two of you barely share a word and yet it's undeniable that there's so some sort of a connection between the two of you, as you learn to co-exist in mutual presence. Arthur is there to help you with tough body jobs, able to carry bigger logs for a fire and repair a hole in the roof. Thanks to him, you actually spend some more time outside, allowing your pale face to catch some colour.

Much to your disappointment, Arthur keeps disappearing quite a lot, never telling you where exactly. Sometimes, he's gone for the whole day, leaving you alone and just with your thoughts, making you worry that he's gonna leave you too. And with how close you've re-grown to Arthur over the short period of time, finding a much needed substitute for your long lost sister, you couldn't handle losing him as well.

It's almost a miracle how much has Arthur managed to improve your life, to give it a new sense of importance, purely because he allows you to be yourself. He never tells you that it's time to move on, to finally find peace in the life you have at the moment and get over the loss of you sister. He simply accepts you and your feelings, allows to let your tears get soaked into the fabric of his shirt and strokes your back as you slowly doze off against his chest. He cries too, when you're asleep, because he can't allow himself to look vulnerable in front of you, not when he's your protector now.

Arthur has found a resemblance of Beniamina in yourself, the same set of freckles almost mirroring hers splayed over your cheeks, in the way your lips curve up when you eventually find a reason to smile - that being anything but genuine joy - and the dimples in your cheeks. You share the same mannerisms with your sister, the tenderness of your touch and natural care you take about Arthur, smoothing down the crumpled fabric of his shirt and making coffee for him. Too much things remind you of his sister.

And perhaps that is the main reason why he slowly falls for you, adorned the tenderness in your relationship. The softness and shared moments of silence that he longs for, the honesty in your shared glances. He adores you for who you are, but the more he sees his long lost love in you, the more he feels he needs you. Perhaps it's selfish, and Arthur is aware, he was never a particularly morally clean person. But his grief for Beniamina couldn't do enough to make him a better man.

Unbeknownst to Arthur, you feel the exact same way about him, too, finding more and more obvious hints of your sister in him. He's a warm human, with subconscious care for others, offering gentle touches to ease you in certain directions and sit you down when you begin panicking. As much of an idiot as he can be, he's witty and shares the same kind of ironic humor that is enough to make you chuckle. He is capable of guiding you and taking care of you in the exact way you need it.

For so many things you miss, that have been taken away from you, you've latched onto every bit that Arthur is capable of offering you. It's such an absurd situation, how the reason for your mutual loved is fueled by that even deeper kind of love you both felt for Beniamina. And it's such a long way to go before either of you figures out that the following reasons for the shared affection are much more than that, and that your sister's disappearance could be, as unreal as it seems, overcome.

[im-robins-bitch]

But, I’m a band geek (Robin Buckley x fem!reader)

Or, Robin tries to navigate the insecurities that dating a cheerleader is bringing up. It all comes to ahead when she see’s you with Chrissy and your popular friends at the pre-senior year party. Comfort w slight angst (4.5k)

can be read as a stand alone or you can see how they got together here.

TW: Reader’s best friend is mentioned to be homophobic and reader defends them. Reader refers to themselves as robins girlfriend. Reader mentions briefly a distressing coming out story. Robin talks about not being ‘like everyone else’ and wishes she was normal.

You were popular, Robin knew you were when you started dating over the summer. 

She had seen you in the halls last year before you had ever really spoken to each other. Noticed how the rest of the school treated you and subsequently her.  

You were like Claire from Breakfast Club, and all too often she felt like Alison. 

When you first got together she forgot all about your respective social rankings, it was hard not to when you spent weeks visiting her at work complimenting her. Her previous conceptions were thrown right out of the window, replaced with the real you. 

She didn’t even think about how things might change when school started up again. How could she when you would stamp your lips against any inch of her  as soon as you were alone?

She had thought about bringing it up, asking if you would sit with her at lunch or stick to your usual routine. Would you introduce her to your friends as a new friend or not mention her at all? What if you didn’t even acknowledge her existence when you got to school?

Sometimes she thinks of the day you came into scoops with the rest of the cheerleaders, you hadn’t spoken a word to her that day. She learned later on that you had been jealous, but still the thought nagged at her. What if you were embarrassed by her? You were always so sweet to her, but you didn’t earn the intimidating reputation for no reason. You could be blunt, had allegedly made the previous head cheerleader cry when you were just a freshman. 

Every day she planned to talk to you about her worries and every day she changed her mind. You would coddle her in affection, finger tracing shapes into her arms while you asked about her day. Pecking her lips in between each of her sentences because you just missed her so much. She didn’t want to burst the lovey-dovey bubble and in that moment all of her concerns melted away. Her mind filled with nothing but you. 

Robin had never felt so special, she hardly believed it was real. The first few weeks she would awake in the morning and wonder if it had all been a dream. On one of your dates, she had even pinched her arm just to make sure. Her vision didn’t falter though, you were still grinning at her, sucking on your milkshake straw and offering her a taste. 

For now she had swept all her negative thoughts into a closet and locked the door tight. Only now the strain of her thoughts had the door ready to burst, the lock insubstantial to the pressure of everything she had tucked away. 

She was at a back-to-school party, she hadn’t wanted to attend but did at your and Steves's insistence.

She had spent extra time getting ready, it wasn’t something she was used to, but it made her chest grow warm. She wanted you to think she was pretty, wanted to hear one of your cheesy lines or watch a toothy grin appear on your face as you looked her up and down. It always sent her into a spin, catching your eyes devouring her.

She was wearing the lipstick you had left at her house and it had her stomach swirling with anticipation. You always complimented her chapstick or her lipgloss, if you were alone you insisted on kissing her to get a taste. Sometimes you would offer her to try some of your own holding out the tube temptingly, only to press your lips to hers when she agreed. 

You would wipe away any of the smudging with your thumb, eyes full of mischief at her red cheeks and incoherent stutters. After she would want to wrap her fist in your shirt and pull you to her lips again, kissing you until you were dizzy. She was still nervous though, a little reserved to pull you into her lap just yet. You didn’t seem to mind too much, adoring to press your fingers into the fat of her thighs and drag her towards you, sometimes leaving crescent marks in your wake that you would press mind-numbing kisses to over and over again. 

You had gone to the party earlier to help your friend set up the party. Robin didn’t mind it meant she could make a grand entrance with Steve. 

She had been bouncing in the car with impatience. Fiddling with the hem of her shorts over and over and checking her lipstick was still on in the mirror at least 5 times on the short drive over. Steve kept looking over at her when he thought she wasn’t looking, but he couldn’t keep the amused grin off his face. 

She had been so excited to see you, fussing with her hair on the walk up the stairs. Imagining your face when you saw her. Wondering which of her favourite expressions you would be wearing. Would she see your flirty smirk or your coy smile?

It turns out she wouldn’t get to see any of your expressions.

 It was an hour since she arrived and you had been surrounded by a small crowd the entire time. She only got to see your face in brief glimpses, none of them long enough for her to really take you in. 

She didn’t want to let it get her down, but seeing you was pretty much the only reason she had turned up. Every second she expected you too excuse yourself out of the group and come see her, only the moment never came. 

The ice in her cup had completely melted now, her hand covered in the condensation from the sweating plastic. Somehow her fingers were sticky too, even though she took extra care to make sure none of the punch sloshed down the sides when she scooped it in. 

Boys from the school continued to flit in and out of the circle, many offering drinks to you which you continued to accept. While she was only on her first drink, you must have been on your fifth by now. 

Her nostrils flared at the thought of you encouraging their flirtations and lingering touches. You were flirty, she knew that before you had dated, but now you were dating her. Even if it was a secret surely you wouldn’t be entertaining the stupid jocks trying to get into your pants. 

She hated parties. She hated being in crowds surrounded by people she didn’t at all care for. Still, she had come especially for you and you hadn’t even come to say hello, or even acknowledged her existence with some eye contact. 

Every moment that ticked by without you looking her way, was another log for the fire. She was practically simmering in rage. Still she knew a smile from you would snuff the fire out, so she waited. 

She knew she could come over and join the group to talk to you. In fact, Steve was insisting that she should. “Go help her Rob, she looks like she needs an escape” She just felt stuck against the living room wall she was slumped against. Her untouched cup of punch crinkling in her hands as she took her frustrations out of it. 

She just couldn’t. Her body wouldn’t move. She felt pathetic. 

Surrounding you were all the people in school she would never be good enough for. The crowd was filtering away now. Still, Jason and Chrissy flanked your right, the latter's hands wrapped around your wrist, showing off your matching friendship bracelets while Heather and two other girls from cheer stood in front, chatting to you eagerly. All popular and all rich. 

Not some band loser that can’t even afford a license. 

She felt like the outlier, how could she just walk up to that group and speak to you in front of everyone? 

“Do you want me to come with you?’ Steve offered, nudging Robins's arm. 

She shook her head, cheeks flushing red. Steve couldn’t understand, he was one of them, well he used to be. Even spending time with the former King Steve would earn Robin some looks sometimes, but you? That would just attract more attention than she ever wanted, she didn’t want to be noticed by Jason and his cronies. She didn’t want to hear the more cut-throat cheerleaders talk about her. 

“I need the bathroom” Robin mumbled, turning her gaze from the scene in front of her and shoving her cup into Steve’s spare hand. Steve tried to stop her and follow after, but she was too fast. He knew he had to do something though.

Robin scrambled up the stairs, ignoring the protests of couples lining the stairs as she shoved them out of the way. Secretly glad to be making them suffer because why couldn’t she be making out with her girlfriend on the stairs?  

Why hadn’t you come to seek her out, you knew she hated parties, you knew she only came to see you. 

She tried three doors before she finally found a bathroom and threw herself into it. Sliding the lock into place and pressing her back into the wooden door. The pressure grounding her as she sinks to the floor. 

She hates the feeling of the cold tiles on her bare legs, hates that she wore her stupid shorts for you, hates that she had been so excited earlier only to be crushed entirely at the first obstacle your relationship had faced.

Her relationship wasn’t going to be like the one Steve had with Nancy, she knew that. She couldn't come up and kiss you in the hall, hold your hand on walks around town or even tell anyone but Steve that she had a girlfriend in the first place. Still, she had hoped she would be able to talk to you without fighting off everyone else to get to you. 

She wished she wasn’t intimidated by talking to the large popular groups you belong in. Why didn’t she work like a normal person? She always dreaded the moment when people would talk to her for the first time and realise she was weird. She could always see it, the awkward look on their face when they started looking for a way out of interacting with her. Talking to people like Heather or Chrissy always reminded her that she wasn’t like the other people her age and social interaction didn’t come naturally. 

You had never made her feel like that though. if she said something others would think was weird you would sense her freezing up in regret and say something just as strange. 

You would trace shapes into her palms as she told you long-winded stories, encouraging her to go on. With you, while she still didn’t feel normal in the way others did, she at least felt accepted. You liked her the way she was and didn’t want her any other way. At least that was what she always thought…until now. 

She scrubs her lipstick on to her hand, feeling silly for even making an effort. She can’t see herself in the bathroom mirror, she’s sunk too far to the floor, but she knows she must look like a mess. Her breaths come in giant puffs and tears are dripping from her eyes. The embarrassment she feels only makes the crying worse. 

She’s falling in love with you and she fears she’s falling alone. 

She feels, instead of hears, the banging at the door. The music is loud and for once she’s thankful for it, otherwise, the person on the other side probably would have heard her breakdown. 

She ignores it, hearing only an unintelligible voice until it gets louder, the voice scratchy with the strain. “ROBIN?”

She flinches, her head banging against the back of the door in shock. She groans in pain, clutching her head with one hand while trying to wipe away her tears with the other. She considers not answering and waiting until you go to try a different bathroom to make her escape. Last year she probably would have, but being friends with Steve has made her a little bit braver, so she undoes the lock and opens the door a crack. 

She gives you an inch, but you take the whole damn mile, pushing the door open until you can squeeze in and then shutting it behind you. Quickly sliding the lock back into place. 

It takes you a second to assess her face before you bundle her into your arms. 

One hand goes to her back, tracing up and down her spine the way she adores, the other cradling her head to your neck. You can feel her wet tears against your skin and it makes you hold her even tighter. “Baby…” You coo, hand smoothing down her hair over and over again. 

Your honeyed voice cuts right through her, the pet name even more so. It brings down the dam as she starts to sob in your arms, hands clutching your shirt and arms, desperate to not let you leave. 

“Did someone hurt you?” Unlike before, your voice is rough as you try to hold back aggression at the thought of someone hurting your sweet Robin. 

She merely shakes her head, burying herself as far into your skin as can. She accepts your comfort for as long as she can until the bad thoughts fill her head again. Eventually, she can’t really stand touching you anymore and the fact breaks her own heart. 

“Why didn’t you come and see me?” She finally asks, deciding to rip off the band-aid and get it over with as soon as she’s caught her breath. 

She feels your body tense as the realisation sets in, that you're the reason she’s crying. You thump your head back against the door, squeezing her tight against your body, you made your sweet Robin cry. 

“I tried-”

“It didn’t seem like you tried!” Robin argued, pulling away from your neck to look at you. Her face is completely red, from anger or sadness you're not sure. Her brows are furrowed in anger, despite the tears threatening to spill from her eyes again. 

It feels like a knife to your chest when you try to brush away the tears on her cheek, only for her to move away from your touch as if it burns. 

“I’m so-”

“Were you just having too much fun with your popular friends to remember me or were you so embarrassed by the thought of being seen with me you decided to pretend I didn’t exist?” 

“Robin wha-”

“And why was Chrissy Cunningham all over you?” Robin crosses her arms with a final huff and she glares you up and down. 

It takes you a moment to gather your thoughts together, caught off guard by Robins's tears and then angry outburst, you don’t want to make anything worse, you don’t want to dismiss her feelings, but your brain isn’t stringing together any coherent thoughts. All the cups of punch you’d drank tonight didn’t help either. 

You had been guzzling drinks in hopes of excusing yourself to fill up your cup so you could find Robin without your friends buzzing around. Only you kept getting a new drink handed to you over and over again. 

By the time you had gotten away from them, so you could flirt with Robin to your heart's content, Steve was glaring at you and telling you she had run off to the bathroom.

Your legs feel weak after running around to try and find your girlfriend in your drunken state so you sit down on the toilet, lid down, clutching your head in your hands. Robin is still waiting for you, arms crossed tightly as she taps her foot against the floor. Getting angrier by your lack of response every second. 

“I’m sorry,” You start, heart, beating erratically from the events of the last ten minutes. “But I did try, I really wanted to see you Rob I promise I did” You explain, looking up into her eyes, hoping she can see the truth in them. “I just couldn’t get away from them, they kept asking me what I’ve been doing all Summer for me to be ignoring all their invites.” 

“What did you tell them?” She asks, still a storm of anger. Her usual clear blue eyes you always likened to a tranquil ocean now reminded you of a treacherous sea. Her shoe squeaks against the tile as she drags her toes against it. She braces herself for the lie you might have told them, hoping it will protect her from the sting. 

“That I started talking to you when I came to get some ice cream one day and we’ve been fast friends ever since,” 

Her eyes snap to yours, “Really?” You nod in confirmation, fiddling with your fingers as you try not to look away from her piercing stare. “Then why didn’t you come over to talk to me?”

You sigh, looking up at the ceiling, “I…There are a lot of reasons, but none of them are because I’m embarrassed by you, I promise,” 

The tightness in Robin’s chest loosens a little with the confirmation, but she still needs more. She moves closer, grabbing your hand in her own and squeezing. “You can tell me anything,” She says, wondering if she might not be the only one with a closet full of worries. 

“I don’t even know where to start. Mostly, I just like spending time alone with you, because when we’re with other people we have to just be friends and it’s so hard, I swear I look at you and my eyes just turn into hearts.” 

Robins's throat bobs, and she kisses your knuckles from the confession. 

“Plus, Chris, she knows I like girls and…it was difficult at first. She didn’t intend to be cruel or anything she would just, give me pamphlets for..” You swallow harshly, gripping Robin even tighter. 

Her heart breaks at the thought of you coming out to your childhood best friend and not receiving the support you deserve. She knows you and Chrissy have been best friends practically since birth. The aged friendship bracelet on your wrist is a constant reminder of it.  

She had come out to a boy she had known less than 3 months and he had been more supportive than she could ever have hoped. It reminds her how lucky she was and how awful it is that Steves acceptance of her isn’t the norm. 

“It’s better now,” You insist, protecting the friend who must have hurt you more than she could know. “She’s…coming around.  I just worried that I might out you to her if she sees us together too much and I don’t want you to have to deal with that. “

“I’m sorry,” Robin says, ducking her head in shame. Your hand finds her chin and you lift her head back up, pressing a tender kiss to her lips, salty from both of your tears. 

“Don’t be,” You insist, kissing her once again. “It feels good to talk about it, I’m so used to having to hide all my feelings. Sometimes I forget I have someone I can be honest with now” You brush your thumb across her cheeks, “Thank you,” You say, kissing her again, even longer than the last, “for giving me that” 

Robin feels light-headed, from your kiss, from the emotional rollercoaster she’s been on today and from how much she adores you. She wants to keep kissing you, but she knows you deserve some honesty as well. 

“To be completely honest, i should have talked to you about my feelings sooner, before blowing up on you. I’ve been worrying for a while now”

Your finger traces the furrow in her brow, smoothing it out. “I’m sorry that you felt like you couldn’t talk to me about it till now. I feel like such a bad girlfriend” 

Even though her stomach drops at the idea of you feeling bad, she can’t help but smile a little at the word girlfriend rolling off your lips. It was still so new to her, “No, you’re not, I was just embarrassed,”

“Are you still embarrassed?”

She is, her cheeks are heating at the thought of telling you, but you were so brave telling her about Chrissy that she powers through. “I’m worried that at school, you’ll pretend you don't know me.”

“What! Why would you think I would do that?” She knows she’s upset you again, for thinking so little of your character so she tries to explain further. That it isn’t you, it’s her. 

“Because you’re like the most popular cheerleader in school and I’m just some band geek” 

You squish her cheeks, pushing them together. “don’t call my girlfriend a band geek” You insist.

She sees the sharpness in your eyes at your little threat, a fraction of what someone who actually hurt you might experience and it sends a little shiver down her spine. It loses all intimidation when your press a sloppy kiss to one of her squishy cheeks, nuzzling your nose against the soft skin below her eye. 

She giggles, but still shakes her head insisting that it's true, like for some reason waving around pompoms and shouting chants makes you more of a person than she is.

“I’m serious Robs, you’re incredible, the effort you put into playing the trumpet is super inspiring and you are so fucking smart, you make me drool whenever you speak a different language, I swear.”

Robin is still shaking her head, opening her mouth to rebut you, but you kiss her before she can. You suck on her bottom lip, making her whine. You grin in victory when you pull away. 

Your face is barely an inch away as you look directly into her eyes. “There’s no way I could ever pretend you don’t exist, Robin Buckley. I’ve spent an entire year pinning after you, like I’m gonna spend any time away from you now” 

“I really really like you,” I’m falling in love with you. It blurts out before Robin could control it. 

Your teeth press down on your lips in an attempt to control your grin, “I wish I could walk in on Monday and give you a kiss that would let the whole school know that your mine, but I guess it’s gonna have to be me introducing my new best friend to the school instead” You nuzzle your nose against hers, which is still flushed red, “I really, really, really like you too” 

“Drunk friends can hold hands at least right?” Robin says, standing up from the tile and holding her hand out to you as an offering. In lieu of a verbal response, you take her hand and smatter it in kisses. 

“Is it bad that I want to stay in here with you all night?”

“I was kinda planning on bringing you home with me instead,” Robin says as you wipe the dry tears from her cheeks, she leans into your touch this time and you reward her with a long forehead kiss. 

“I can work with that,” You grin, looking her up and down.

Robin smiles at you, looking utterly fond as you tuck some of her hair behind her ear, fingers tenderly brushing against the curve of soft skin. “I didn’t get to tell you how pretty you look tonight Robs, swear you just get more and more good-looking every time I see you” 

Robin snorts, hooking her chin over your shoulder and wrapping her arms around you for a good hug. You immediately reciprocate the action. “I think you’re imagining it”

“I don’t think so” She can hear the smirk in your voice, and then she feels the squeeze of your hand on the top of her thighs and knows exactly what you're looking at over her shoulder. “I love these shorts”

“Pervert,” She mumbled into your ears, it earns her a laugh as you squeeze her extra tight. 

You spend a little longer holding onto each other in the bathroom. Thinking over the past hour and each promising to be a little more honest with each other in the future. It’s only interrupted when someone starts banging on the door, yelling at you for hogging the bathroom for so long. 

“Will Steve still look like he wants to beat me up when we go back out there do you think?” 

Robin laughs, “He’s never won a fight in his life, I think you could take him” 

She leads you towards the door, “You’re probably right” your, giggling along with her as you flex your arm in a show of muscle. 

When you open the door, the drunken guy Robin recognises as Fred from the wrestling team recoils in horror as he stares at you. Robin not even noticed as he sputters out an apology. 

You wield your icy stare like a weapon as he tries to come up with excuses. 

“Move,” You instruct, he hurries to do so, apologising profusely to Robin as he bumps into her. Robin laughs as people move out of your way as you tug her down the crowded corridor she had to fight her way through.  

Yeah, you could definitely take on Steve she thinks. 

When she’s pulled into your circle of friends, a stare from you shuts up Jason before he can start. 

It’s awkward for a second until Heather is complimenting her hair and it’s like she’s been initiated because everyone treats her like one of them. Jason passes her his fresh drink as he goes off in search of his own. 

Chrissy raises her eyebrows at you, but Robin squeezes your hand in reassurance. She’s here for you now, you’re not alone. You squeeze her hand back. 

When she grows exhausted of talking she finds she doesn’t need to, Heather and Kath fill the circle with Idle chatter and Steve soon joins the circle too. His arm across her shoulders makes Chrissy loosen up a bit more and she talks to you animatedly about cheer tryouts next week. 

That’s when Robin realises, next week she’ll get to see you in your cheer uniform. Maybe school won’t be too bad after all.

Masterlist

[hughiecampbelle]

Sunder (Shiv Roy Oneshot)

Word Count: 1,566

Character/s: Shiv

A/N: This is a draft I tweaked a little. Still not 100%, but I wanted to post writing anyways, so here is it! Feedback is always appreciated!!💜💜💜

Succession Masterlist / REQUESTS ARE OPEN

You loved one another, despite it all. You loved one another through and through. You loved one another and the worst part of it? It still wasn’t enough. 

You’re doing it again. You don’t ask what. You already know. You had a habit of staring at her. More than that though. Searching her features for her feelings, her thoughts, everything she wasn’t saying. Couldn’t say. She passed you her cigarette and you took it, a peace offering, a poison to pick. The smoke never tasted so good. She wears her blue dress. New and tight in all the right places. You resist the urge to take your fingers and untie the back, the straps sliding off her shoulders, letting the top fall, eventually the whole thing crashing to the floor as you pull the zipper down. You resist the urge to move closer, fill the gap between you, to breathe in her smoke and mess up her lipstick. You resist the urge to touch her one last time. Instead you exhale, the smell intoxicating and familiar and homey, thanking her and passed it back to her. Your fingers don’t touch. She is too careful, too regimented, and you can do nothing but oblige. You know your mom is a total bitch. She nods. Of course she knows. Of course you know she knows. The things she said, about you, about her daughter. They were awful. They were angry. They were cowardly. No mother should ever speak to her child like that. She didn’t- but she stops. Didn’t what? The love of your life. Serious, and cold, and tough, and yet, none of these things. She is soft and sweet and not everyone can appreciate that about her. The duality. But you did. Or, rather, you appreciated it at one point not too long ago. The rest of her sentence drops, clatters on the hard stone and shatters into a million little pieces. You watch it dissipate before looking back at her, watching her, wondering what kind of excuse she could have come up with. They believed her uncaring, but god, were they wrong. She was spiky, sure, but it wasn’t meant to offend, it was meant to defend. Far more years than you’d like she spent picking herself up, kissing her own wounds, looking out for herself. Of course they thought she was cruel, she was acting how they thought she would, not how she was. Underestimated for merely existing. That would make anyone a little jaded. 

We should go back inside. You’re not sure who says this, only that you’re both surprised. Not yet, the other says, trying not to sound desperate. Okay. No fight. No insistence.You’re both relieved. What now? You know you’ve come to the end. After this, it would be over. There were papers waiting to be signed. Magically, they appeared on the kitchen island. Identical twins, a copy for each of you, your lawyers. Your families had an entire team on retainer, though you both preferred to hire outsiders. It was quieter this way. Supposedly, it was easier. Both parties agreed to make things amicable. It was, even now, sharing a cigarette, it was split 50/50. Neither of you made the first move. You checked every night, every morning, as you were coming and going, but the lines at the bottom remained unscathed. Free of ink and decision. You loved her signature. It was delicate, it was sharp, it sliced you open every time you saw it. Her full name. You never called her Shiv. A name as beautiful as hers deserved to be said in full. She didn’t seem to mind, she never corrected you. There was no need. Her father only used it in anger. You could never be angry at her, not now, not ever. She knew that. You hoped she still did. 

Her mother’s wedding wasn’t something either of you had been planning on attending. In the end, she needed someone, and you were still that person. You would have given anything to get out of that apartment, away from those papers, the emails and memos and missed calls. Your lawyer wanted to go over your assets. That could wait. You couldn’t leave her side, not now, not to face her mother alone. You weren’t in denial. You weren’t stupid. You lived in this reality, you understood the consequences to your actions. Still, that didn’t mean you couldn’t put off your responsibilities til you got back. She didn’t bring up, the deflecting, the aversion, the avoidance. Neither did you. You were in agreement: this divorce was better if neither of you made a decision. It was easier. This marriage wasn’t broken. It wasn’t fractured, there were no cracks in the foundation, there were no faults. There were no secret affairs or lying or cheating. This was not a gruesome death. There was no blood, no gore. You imagined it as quick and painless. Someone dying in their sleep. Warm, and safe, and final. Peaceful. There would be an open casket. There would be mourners. There will be a burial under a tree, you’d like to think, a weeping willow. Things faded. It wasn’t the fault of one of you. You tried to make it work. You did the best you could. That would always be how you told this story: you did your best, you and her, and when you realized it wasn’t enough, you went your separate ways. 

 You never wanted it to play out like this, though you were realistic in your expectations. Neither of you had grown up in homes that placed love on a pedestal. There were no happily ever afters. Marriage was, like all things in life, a business transaction. A deal, a commitment, between two people. Not a promise or a vow, something more surgical. Sterile. Sometimes it was used to procreate. Sometimes it was for appearances. Sometimes, though you knew none of the people involved would ever admit to it, it was a shield against loneliness. Your parents, her parents, none of their marriages ended well. You understood there was a cycle you could either break or repeat. There were no gray areas. You would have preferred not to repeat, but you couldn’t tie yourself to her, all dead weight. You couldn’t trap her into something neither of you were particularly fond of keeping alive. You still loved her. And she still loved you. But sometimes love wasn’t enough. It’s not how the fairytales go. It’s not how the movies play out. Where’s the fun in that? The happy couple walks down the aisle. They slip on the rings. They kiss. And then, the credits role. 

Viewers don’t realize there’s more to it than that. There is effort, and disagreements, and hurt, and mundanity. There are bills to be paid and careers that need tending and complicated family relationships. You and Siobhan were still considered newlyweds. If it wasn’t so hypocritical, your mother would have called it a moral and spiritual failure. You’re not making it to your first anniversary. Your marriage was in it’s infancy and already you were calling it quits. Her mother would have a lot to say once it’s finalized and you break the new,s separately, to everyone. By then, you won’t be around to protect her. You’ll go your separate ways, though you have a feeling you’ll cross paths again. You’ll be in one another’s lives. 

Do you want custody of Roman? She offers you a small smile. You know it is sincere. Still, it’s too early to joke about. Too new. Too fresh. You still wear your rings. She looks just as she did at your wedding. How could it possibly be over? It’s a thought that crosses your mind every time you look at her, every time you catch yourself saying her name. How could it not? This voice is quieter, it is defeated, but equally respected. You know they are both right. You sit in your silence, comfortable, serene, and you wait. Wait for her brothers to come looking for her, for her mother to whine to her, for someone to interrupt you two. There should be more of a fight. There should be more life. But there isn’t. You are not throwing in the towel, you are coming to terms with a great loss. That looks different for everyone. For some, there is thrown furniture and words that can’t be taken back. For others, there is a great hostility, a removing of oneself, hissing and spitting and alienation. It’s not like that for you. She will always be a part of you. She will always have a place at the table. You’ve made that clear. The feeling has been reciprocated. There is no explosive ending. It will be quiet, but not hushed. You will announce it on your own terms. You will carry on without her, at least for a little while. People will ask their questions and make their assumptions, but only you and her will ever know what really happened. In the end, it will be devastating. It will take their air from your lungs. It will be the worst thing that has ever happened to you, losing her, losing your Siobhan.

The grief will come all at once. For now though, you will sit with her and take her in and wait to be interrupted.

[h0neytalk]

Practicing the Arabic Alphabet

I honestly lucked out so much taking Arabic in college and learning basic MSA reading/writing/grammar from an excellent professor but I’m gonna compile the most useful things we did in class here to help people learning on their own (this isn’t focused on resources, just strategies, might do a separate post with worksheets and videos but they’re pretty easy to find):

Get the alphabet in front of you. We had a packet with a page for every letter with the letter written in the three positions, pronunciations, names, and lines to trace and write like 100 times. And then a page with all the diacritics. These sheets abound for free online. Make yourself an alphabet packet. Watch copious videos/listen to recordings going over the letters and how they sound. Repeat it back. Work in chunks and don’t move to the next set until you can recognize and write the current set.

Tracing! Learn to write the letters right to left and with the proper order from day one. This sounds obvious but people in my class were still drawing letters left to right as isolated shapes next to each other so idk maybe it’s not. Having nice handwriting in Arabic is both satisfying and absurdly helpful. Learn how the letters connect. Spend more time than you think is necessary on this.

Write English words and sentences phonetically using diacritics and Arabic letters. Do not worry about translation and spelling. Just make the connection between shape -> sound. Use anything you have. Lists of names, entire pages from books and magazines, texts from friends, menus. Literally anything. Work through how to make those words with the new alphabet. You will learn a surprising amount about the language and pronunciation by doing this. How do you translate sounds that don’t exist? What about multiple sounds where English only has one? Read it back with the accent.

Transcribe English phonetically. Same as above but do it without the English in front of you and just listening. Make that voice to visual connection.

Hand write word lists once you get to vocab. Then type them on your laptop and phone (if you want to be able to type in Arabic, also highly recommend a keyboard cover with the letters next to the Latin alphabet). Copy all the diacritics even though that’s not necessarily how native speakers do it. I have a notebook that looks like it belongs to lunatic toddler because it just has the same words and snippets written over and over again lmao.

Finally, transcribe Arabic. If you can use something with a transcript or captions to check your work even better! But don’t check for perfect spelling, check you used mostly the right letters and marks. You will definitely smash some words together and miss a silent or elided letter or something but try and hear the difference between ع and ا or ق and ك etc. The more sources you use the better.

We did this for one full semester of 50 minute classes 3 times a week while sprinkling in some basic vocab towards the second half. It felt like forever at the time but I never lost my ability to phonetically read and write in Arabic despite 4 years of complete non-use while living in America in an area without any significant Arabic-speaking population or language presence. It is absolutely CHISELED into my brain.

[rikeijo]

Hi! I've heard somewhere that some lines of Yuuri's speech at the press con in episode 5 were mistranslated and that because of this, the speech comes across as if Yuuri doesn't know what exactly he is feeling for Viktor. I can't tell if it's really mistranslated, but I always found the subs in this scene a bit confusing. So, I'd love to know: how would you translate his speech?

Hi! Thank you for the ask!

I must admit that I've never properly watched Eng sub or dub version, and even though I bought the US edition to someday discuss some translation choices (that's imo super fun thing to do ✨) my only laptop that had a built-in DVD player broke down >.<

Sooo, I searched online for his speech in subtitles, but I'm not sure if the subtitles I've found are official...

"My theme in this year's Grand Prix series is "love". I've been helped by many people in my competitive skating career thus far, but I've never thought about "love" until now. Though I was blessed with support, I couldn't take full advantage of it. I always felt like I was fighting alone. But since Victor has showed up to be my coach, I've seen something totally different. My "love" isn't something clear-cut like romantic love, but the more abstract feeling of my relationships with Victor, family and hometown... I was finally able to realize that something like love exists all around me. Victor is the first person I've ever wanted to hold on to. I don't really have a name for that emotion, but I've decided to call it love. Now that I know what love is and am stronger for it, I'll prove it myself with a Grand Prix Final gold medal!"

If this is the official translation, then well, the overall message is close, I'd say, but at the same time, hmm... If you wanted to base a ""deep"" character analysis on it, it could probably lead you in a wrong direction... Especially the end is just mistranslated.

今年のグランプリシリーズで僕がテーマにするのは〝愛〞です。My theme for this year's Grand Prix series is "love".

今までのスケート人生いろんな人に助けられながらやってきましたが、愛について考えたことは一度もありませんでした。In my life as a figure skater until now, I've come to the place, where I'm now, while being helped by a lot of different people, but I haven't even once thought/pondered about "love".

恵まれた環境にいながらそれを生かしきれず、１人で戦っているような気持ちでずっといました。けど、ヴィクトルコーチが現れて、僕の見ていた景色は一変しました。I've always been in a very favorable ["for me to be a figure skater" in this context] environment, but I wasn't able to make a full use of it and I always felt as if I had been fighting alone. But, Coach Victor appeared and the scenery I see [that is: the way I see the world around me] changed completely.

僕の愛。それは分かりやすい愛や恋ではなくて、ヴィクトルとの絆や家族や地元に対する微妙な気持ち。My love. It's not [general] love or romantic love that is easy to understand, but my bond with Victor, and the lukewarm way I feel about my family and my local community. [This sentence, imo, is often mistranslated, but you can also argue about how it should be interpreted in Jp. However, to do that you have to be able to notice nuance just from the intonation of the sentence... For example, imo, because of where the VA makes a pause in the sentence, it should be "general love or romantic love that is easy to understand" and not "general love that is easy to understand or romantic love", but grammatically both option are possible. "微妙", when you look for the definition in a dictionary, is often translated as "subtle" or something similar ("abstract" is just a mistranslation, tho), but, imo, from the context, it should be the more modern meaning of the world, which basically means nowadays "not bad, I guess, but I don't really know". That's why Yuuko was offended by Yuuri's word choice. Also, based on the intonation and grammar (no need to have two "や"s in one sentence when giving examples) "bond with Victor" and "feelings towards family and local community" are two separate issues.]

ようやく自分の周りにある愛のようなものに気づくことができました。At last I was able to notice the love-like thing that is around me.

初めて自分からつなぎ止めたいと思った人、それがヴィクトルです。The first person that I myself [the vector of the action starts from Yuuri, it's an allusion to what the Nishigoris talk about with Victor in ep. 2] wanted to tie to me [and don't let them go] is Victor.

その感情に名前はないけど、あえて愛と呼ぶことにしました。This feeling doesn't have a name, but I decided to dare to call it "love".

愛を知って強くなった僕をグランプリファイナルの金メダルで証明しますっ！ I'll prove myself, who got to know what love is and because of that became stronger by [winning] a gold medal in the Grand Prix Final. [The way it's worded suggests that Yuuri wants to prove his own "worth", not necessarily that what he says is true - it's not "I want to prove that...", but "I want to prove myself, who...".]

Oh, and by the way, if you read the speech carefully, Yuuri talks about "two loves" here - first, he explains that his theme is "love" and what that word "love" means to him - so "something like love, that is around him", and only then he starts talking about one more feeling - the feeling that doesn't have a name, but he decided to "dare to call love" - and that is what he feels for Victor. Because the word "あえて" is there, and it means "dare to", do something "daringly", to me it always felt as a variation/reference to the famous quote from Oscar Wilde's lover, Lord Alfred Douglas' poem "The love that dare not speak its name", but maybe that's just me ✨

[bahngray]

Love, Unscripted

This work is for mature audiences.

Chapter 1 : Crossing The Line

Chapter 2 : Fading Confidence

For two days, there was no sign of Chris. He didn’t come to the store like he used to. He didn’t stand in the street and peek through the large windows. It was almost like he didn’t exist—and I was scared.

Scared that what I had experienced that evening was nothing more than my imagination. A hallucination?

And then came that big, sinking feeling.

I was stacking shelves, listening to All Too Well by Taylor Swift, when the familiar scent of vanilla and burnt strawberries filled the air. I froze. I knew it was him.

Almost tripping, I hurried toward the register. And there he was—in a black hoodie, ripped jeans, and a beanie pulled over his soft curls.

Me: “Hey!”

Him: “Sorry, but I’ve got someone I’m interested in, and I can’t give you my number, miss.”

(Taken aback)

Me: “Oh. Okay. I thought you were the same guy who couldn’t take his eyes off me two evenings ago.”

(Smirking)

Him: “Well, I don’t think he fell as hard as the girl who almost kissed him? Ring a bell?”

(Blushes)

Me: “You can never let go of an argument, can you?”

Him: “No. Not when it comes to you. Now, I need some help finding Nothing Like the Movies because the first book was crazyyyyyy, and I can’t handle the anticipation—I need to know what happens next.”

Me: “Well, be ready for the heartbreak, Mr. Intruder.”

Him: “What?! So you intentionally gave me a book that would break my heart? You’re cruel, Serene.”

Me: “Thanks. But why I gave you that book... is for you to figure out. Here you go—the sequel.”

Him: “Alright, I’ll see you soon! And I’ll definitely take you out again—or many more times. Who knows?” (Winks)

(Cheeks turning pink)

Me: “We’ll see about that, Mr. Intruder.”

The rest of the week, I can't stop thinking about him. Chris.

Is he actually reading those books? Is he really putting in the effort—for me... for us? The thought lingers, weaving its way through my mind at random moments.

Jules: [grinning like she already knows the ending to this story] "I knew it! I knew you’d be hooked."

Me: [groaning and flopping onto my bed] "Are guys always this hard?"

Jules: [laughing] "You’re the one to blame, Miss 'I’ll Make Him Earn It.' Who tells a guy to read two of their favorite rom-com books and write full reviews? You basically gave him homework."

Me: [sighs] "Yeah, but I didn’t want to risk it. I didn’t want to give in so easily and end up crumbling just as quickly. You know how my past relationships were."

Jules: [softer now] "I know."

Me: "And I don’t want to risk it—not with Chris. He’s just... amazing. And that’s what scares me."

Jules: [teasing again] "Oooh, looks like someone’s fallen hard." [mocking voice] "Excuse me, ma’am? Aren’t you the same person who said boys were gross and you don’t do dates?"

Me: [grabbing a pillow] "You come here! I’m gonna teach you a lesson!"

Giggles and squeals echo through the room as pillows and tickles fly, but deep down, my thoughts keep circling back to him. To his smile. To the way, he looked at me like I was the only person in the world.

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Chris is drowning in words and pages.

He’s on his third cup of coffee, the books sprawled open in front of him, highlighters and sticky notes littering the table. His notebook is filled with scribbles—crossed-out sentences and rewritten lines.

He wants it to be perfect—not just because it’s an assignment, but because it’s her. Because Serene deserves the kind of effort most people aren’t willing to give.

And somewhere between the pages, he starts to see pieces of her. The way she lights up when she talks about love, even though she’s scared of it. The way she teases but still leans in, vulnerable, waiting for someone to prove her fears wrong.

He’s already falling.

And if love really is a thing, then it’s definitely in the air—for both of them. Their hearts already bound, held together by invisible strings neither of them can see, but both of them feel.

It’s only time now.

Time until words become actions. Until anticipation becomes reality. Until that invisible string pulls them back into each other’s orbit—and they realize they were never meant to let go.

Finally, Friday comes.

I linger at the bookstore longer than usual, pretending to fix shelves and rearrange books I’ve already touched a dozen times. My eyes keep darting to the door, my heart racing every time it swings open.

But there’s no sign of him.

Where are you, Chris?

I leave the bookstore and walk home slower than I ever have—dragging my feet, hoping, willing him to show up and call out my name or run up to me. But nothing.

I mumble to myself, frustration and nerves mixing in my voice.

Serene: [quietly] "Where are you, Chris?"

And then—honk, honk.

I turn around, and there he is. Sitting behind the wheel, flashing me that dimpled smile that’s way too unfair to exist. He looks so good, and for what?

I freeze for a second, caught between glaring at him for making me wait and completely melting at how ridiculously handsome he looks leaning out of the car window.

Snap out of it, Serene.

He parks right in front of my apartment and steps out. And that’s when I see it—blue roses.

He’s holding a bouquet of blue roses in one hand and two books, plus what looks like a stack of papers, in the other.

OH. MY. GOD.

Did he write an entire biography? What the hell is in that pile? Is he secretly a novelist?

C.H.R.I.S.

Before I can even process, he walks up to me, leans in, and presses the softest kiss on my cheek—casual, like he’s been doing it for years.

And then he hands me the roses.

Chris: [grinning] "Hi there, beautiful."

Beautiful?

My heart skips so hard I think it might actually stop, but I manage to play it cool—or at least I think I do.

Serene: [raising an eyebrow] "Blue roses? What, did regular ones seem too basic for you?"

Chris: [laughing] "Blue means mystery. Thought it suited you."

Serene: [mocking] "Mystery, huh? And what’s all this?" [gestures to the ridiculous stack of papers]

Chris: [smirking] "My reviews. Double spaced, properly cited, and probably the best work I’ve ever written."

Serene: [laughs] "You’re insane."

Chris: [softly] "And you’re worth it."

OH. MY. GOD.

He says it so effortlessly that I nearly forget how to breathe.

Serene: [blushing, trying to recover] "You know, this better be good. Or you might just owe me another book review."

Chris: [leaning closer, voice low] "If it means I get to see you again, I’ll read your entire bookshelf."

And just like that, I know.

I know I’m done for. Completely and utterly done for.

She steps aside, letting him in. Chris drops the papers dramatically on the coffee table.

Chris: "Prepare to be amazed."

Chris: [clears his throat] "First up—Better Than the Movies. Ready?"

Serene: [pretending to yawn] "So ready."

Chris: "This book... surprised me. It’s not just about romance—it’s about expectations. Liz thinks she wants the fairytale ending, but what she really needs is someone who knows how to handle her messy, stubborn side and still sticks around." [grins] "Sound like anyone you know?"

Serene: [narrowing her eyes] "Are you calling me messy?"

Chris: [smirking] "And stubborn. But also completely lovable, so it balances out."

Serene: [blushing slightly] "Uh-huh. Keep going."

Chris: "Wes is... unexpected. He doesn’t sweep her off her feet—he just keeps showing up. And honestly? That hit me. Because sometimes showing up is all it takes."

Serene: [softly] "I liked that part too."

Chris: [teasing] "You liked it? Or did you cry? Be honest."

Serene: [laughs] "Shut up. Next review, please."

---

Chris: "Okay, Nothing Like the Movies. Buckle up."

"This one’s for the people who don’t believe in perfect love—but still hope for something real. The characters are messy, complicated, and stubborn—kinda like us. And yet, they keep choosing each other, even when it’s hard."

Serene: [raising an eyebrow] "Us?"

Chris: [grinning] "Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you didn’t see the similarities."

Serene: [laughs] "You’re ridiculous."

Chris: "Maybe. But if this book taught me anything, it’s that ridiculous works." [leans in slightly] "Especially when it comes to people who make you want to keep turning the page."

Serene bites her lip, pretending not to let that one hit, but the way her cheeks flush gives her away.

---

Chris: [putting the papers aside] "So? Be honest—did I pass?"

Serene: [pretending to think] "Hmm... I don’t know. I might need more convincing."

Chris: [raising an eyebrow] "Oh yeah? And how exactly do I do that?"

Serene: [leaning closer with a smirk] "For starters, I think you need to read another book and write another review."

Chris: [groaning] "You’re impossible."

Serene: [grinning] "And you love it."

Chris: "Yeah, I do. But just so you know, I’m charging interest on all this effort. Dinner. This weekend."

Serene: [pretending to consider] "I might be available."

Chris: [leaning in closer, voice low] "I’ll take that as a yes."

Serene smiles, but before she can say anything, Chris brushes a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth—quick, teasing and leaving her breathless.

Chris: [pulling back slightly] "See? Interest." [grins] "I’ll pick you up at seven."

Serene: [laughing, but blushing hard] "You’re insufferable."

Chris: [winking as he grabs his notebook and heads to the door] "And yet you’re already thinking about that next book for me."

Serene throws a pillow at him as he leaves, but her heart races. And as the door closes behind him, she knows this story isn’t over. Not even close.

The Next Weekend

A trendy restaurant with dim lighting and jazz music humming softly in the background. Chris and Serene sit at a corner table, laughing and sharing appetizers. Serene feels light, like the world has paused just for this moment. Chris leans in, his dimples flashing as he teases her about her obsession with dessert menus.

Chris: [grinning] "So let me get this straight—you judge restaurants based entirely on their chocolate lava cake?"

Serene: [laughing] "Absolutely. If the dessert isn’t good, what’s the point of dinner?"

Chris: [teasing] "You’re impossible."

Serene: [smirking] "And you love it."

Chris starts to respond, but then his expression changes—just slightly. His eyes flicker over Serene’s shoulder, and his posture stiffens. Serene notices immediately.

Serene: [lowering her fork] "What?"

Chris: [hesitating] "Uh... nothing. I just—"

[Before he can finish, a voice cuts in.]

Voice: "Chris? Oh my God, is that really you?"

Serene turns around and sees her—gorgeous, effortlessly elegant, and very much comfortable talking to Chris. The woman’s eyes sparkle with familiarity as she steps closer to the table.

Chris: [standing awkwardly] "Hey, Emma... wow. It’s been a while."

Serene: [immediately uncomfortable] Emma?

Emma: [smiling at Serene] "Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just haven’t seen Chris in forever. We used to—"

Chris: [quickly cutting her off] "Yeah, we dated. But it’s been a long time."

Serene forces a polite smile, but her stomach twists. Ex-girlfriend. And of course, she’s perfect. Of course.

Emma: [laughs lightly] "Anyway, I’ll let you two get back to your date. It was great seeing you, Chris."

Chris: [nodding, visibly uncomfortable] "Yeah, you too."

Emma walks away, and Serene suddenly feels small—like an intruder at her own table. She tries to brush it off, but Chris’s lingering awkwardness gnaws at her.

Serene: [standing abruptly] "I—I think I should go."

Chris: [startled] "Wait, what? What’s wrong?"

Serene: [shaking her head] "Nothing. It’s fine. I just remembered I need to... take care of something."

Chris: [reaching for her hand] "Serene, stop. Talk to me."

Serene: [yanking her hand away, voice rising] "Talk to you? About what? About how perfect your ex-girlfriend looks? About how she clearly still has a hold on you? Or should we talk about how I’ll never be her?"

Chris: [blinking, stunned] "What? That’s not—Serene, you’re overthinking this!"

Serene: [voice cracking] "Maybe I am, but I don’t want to sit here pretending I’m fine when I feel like this. I just—I can’t."

Without waiting for him to respond, she grabs her purse and bolts out of the restaurant, leaving Chris frozen at the table. His voice calls after her, but she doesn’t stop. She can’t.

---

Outside, Serene’s heart pounds as she storms down the sidewalk. The night air stings, but not as much as the ache spreading through her chest.

Serene’s Thoughts: How could I let myself think this was different? That I was different?

Back inside, Chris drops into his chair, running a hand through his hair as he stares at the door Serene just left through. He knows he has to fix this—but he has no idea how.

TO BE CONTINUED...

[starhoneytea89]

Obey me Character head cannons!

Since the games are both shutting down on new content, I thought I would post my initial impressions and head cannons for each character! Keep in mind, I’ve only gotten through the first two seasons of the initial game and only really play the events in nightbringer since I’m trying to go through the story while playing it so some of my head cannons could contradict what is said in that content. This is completely unintentional, I just want to share what I think these people are like!

Now, what better place to start than the first born himself: Lucifer.

- As much as the game makes it seem like Lilith’s sentence was what started the war, I feel like it was more of a ‘last straw’ kind of situation. Initially, I think Lucifer saw problems in the strictness of the society he was a part of.

- The reason with this in my head cannon (since it is known that this story doesn’t impose strict biblical sense of the story) is that rather than having demons and angels be at war due to sin and Lucifer’s initial betrayal, it is because of their bases of existence. Demons are bringers and guardians of chaos, where as “God” and the beings he created to represent him find their logic and understanding in strict alignment and an almost authoritarian understanding of connection.

- Lucifer was fine with this at first, until he had to go down to the human realm, or the divine realm as I like to call it, and fulfill the roll of guardian angel in order to advance politically. After his first human died (which is a story for later), Lucifer returns with grief—something so deep and new that it upsets his whole view of existence. He had no choice but to change. After all, what is it to grieve to a creature that knows no death? Metaphorical or otherwise?

- He doesn’t have enough time to properly process it, and is thrown into babysitting the others, to which they form their bonds, but he never forgets. And suddenly, he can pick things out. He can see what is happening for what they are and what they could be. And ultimately, that is what led to his exile.

- This is why, deep down, he will never fight against Diavolo. He’s seen what it is to step out of line. And despite his ash stained wings, he was an angel. A human may have taught him the beauty of chaos but the loss of his sister reminded him of the need of order. That’s why he keeps her room tidy at the House of Lamentation after all. Time once depicted that there should be eight siblings, so there must be eight rooms, even if one is unoccupied. He now knows better than to question things if he wants to keep his peace.

- Beyond that sad background, I feel like this man loves his fruity mixed drinks. Like, I know this man is supposed to be classy and drink straight liquor and stuff, but I genuinely can’t picture him with anything more than a glass of sweet red wine at the straightest. He’ll still drink gin and whisky, as long as they’re mixed with cherry syrup or some sort of soda. But for the love of his father, keep beer away from this man.

- He has everyone’s everything. Baby teeth? First haircut strands? He had them tucked away somewhere in the HoL. He got them back during negotiations once with the Celestial realm thanks to some of his old comrades taking pity on him since they knew he kept it all. He’s got new stuff too. Leviathan’s first shed tail skin? He’s got it. Beelzebub’s shavings of horn bits from their first growth? He has them. Mammon’s tail feathers the first time he went full demon mode? Tucked away in a small little binder at the back of his closet.

- He has the demon equivalent to early set arthritis in his hands due to always using them to work but also due to him cracking them all the time. The stress he has on a daily may have also factored into it, but who’s to say. It’s actually why he wears gloves. In order to help relieve it on cold nights, he may sneak into the kitchen to heat a pot of boiling water and dip his hands inside. Do expect him to be stricter on curfew those days though, he has an image to uphold even among his siblings and he really wouldn’t want them to catch him with his hands in boiling water.

- He’s never seen Satan as a brother but as a son. He just hasn’t realized it yet. After all, he has known no other relationships beyond his siblings, none that were positive anyways, so he’s always just equated the feelings he’s had about Satan to that. Satan is definitely the favorite ‘brother’ because of this, but truthfully he’s just his child.

- He has nicknames he calls his brothers in his head. And frankly, they’re all rather cute. Mammon is “Goldie” for the small gold strands in his hair and the freckles in his eyes, which he said out loud accidentally once which is where the second brother got the name from for the credit card to begin with. Levi was always “Pip” because of the noise he made with his gills when he lifted his neck out of water. Satan is “Tantan” which he knew would piss the demon of wrath off if he ever tried to use it now. Asmodeus is “Gemma”, and is the only one whom he calls out loud the nickname when alone with each other. Beelzebub goes by “Dismas” in his head because of the sort of gradient his hair and eyes create. Finally, he calls Belphie his little “Castor”.

- He wears the classic cartoon boxers: white base with red hearts.

- When he ties Mammon to the ceiling, he always puts him so he is hanging right side up. Mammon once threw up hanging upside down because of the whole blood pressure thing and so he’s never done it again. Yes he feels guilty. No he’s not going to stop hanging him from the ceiling, Mammon needs some sort of punishment for the shit he pulls.

- Lucifer is secretly an artist. A sculptor to be more precise. Lilith’s grave monument? He did that himself, but he tells his brothers he had it commissioned. That giant skeleton that sits in the corner of his room? It’s actually just an unfinished project that’s been sitting in his room for centuries while he flirts with the idea of finishing it. He had no idea of what it should be though, and it’s gathering dust.

- Loves Mammon’s food. It’s more of a sentimental thing than anything else, because that boy can’t cook for shit. It’s most likely because Mammon is the only one that keeps him fed during crazy times for him under Diavolo, and more often or not brings him meals when he can’t make it to the dinner table, His favorite stuff Mammon makes are these little sandwich sliders, which have a little too much mustard for his liking, but he eats it all anyways.

- That little braided rope belt thing he wears? That’s actually Lilith’s.

- Lucifer likes to hide different treats around the house for Beelzebub to find and follow around at night in an attempt to keep him away from the fridge. Sometimes they’re hidden, sometimes he stands at the corner of a hallway, pulling a donut on a string. It works surprisingly well.

- The white tips in his hair are actually from a fucked hair job the Asmo did on accident while he was trying out hair dye for the first time. Lucifer kind of just kept it because he liked it after all this time.

-When alone, he laughs exactly like Captain Holt from Brooklyn Nine Nine during the marshmallow scene.

That’s it for now (all the ones I can remember off the top of my head), let me know if you want more and I’ll post more of our dearest firstborn or move on to Mammon!