#many will call this cringe to which i say fair

[pikespendragon67]

And Now, an Ode to Priam Fire Emblem: The Decade or So Long Blorbo

As I type this, the Nintendo 3DS and WiiU eShop have legally shut down their Internet servers. Pokemon can still be transferred via the Poke Transporter & Pokemon Bank, and content that was downloaded before can still be redownloaded, but now it is legally impossible to not only buy games, but to also download their free content that was distributed online. For some games, this might not have been utilized or was just a small bonus that didn’t mean much. For Fire Emblem Awakening, it meant access to new maps & somewhat new characters. 

4 of the free online characters were within Awakening’s main story & acted as “what if” scenarios. What if Emmeryn survived her character defining fall that ended a decade-or-so-long war? What if Yen’fay was the Chon’sin royal sibling that survived instead of Say’ri? What would Gangrel do if he lived after Chrom defeated him? What would Walhart do? What would Aversa do if it turned out that she was brainwashed by a cult, realized this, and decided to fight against this? Some were better executed than others, in my opinion, but some of these characters also had exclusive skills, such as Aversa wielding dark magic outside of a Dark Mage/Sorcerer class or Walhart being immune to armor & beast killing weapons, or were just more manpower for your army.

There was one final Spotpass map, though, that acted as a nice free challenge mode (if you didn’t plan on buying the DLC for Apotheosis, of course) : 50 whole units against 26 of your own. At the epicenter of it is Priam, the character I’d like to honor with this memoir. 

Priam is a character not found in the main story of Awakening, and is a dweller of the Isle of Giants in the Outrealms (aka bonus content land oooooh). He’s the leader of a very large army (again, 50 units) consisting of people from every nation within the continents of Ylisse & Valm. He’s supposedly related to a radiant hero of legend, though it’s never officially confirmed. He likes to train, eat meat, and fight strong opponents to better himself regardless of their origins. Overall a relatively simple character to understand. 

For many players, they tend to forget he exists or do their best to pretend he doesn’t exist in the first place. Either they didn’t play his map, his character traits didn’t stick with others as strongly as others, or the big meat and potatoes hot button issue: his relation to Ike. Ike is the protagonist of the Tellius saga, or the games consisting of both Path of Radiance and Radiant Dawn. He does not have a canonical ending where he marries, and within the games, he doesn’t show romantic interest in any female characters. He does, however, have paired endings with characters such as Ranulf (who goes on a journey) and Soren (who accompanied Ike on his own journey, never to be seen or heard from again). And with sources stating Priam is a direct descendant of Ike, rather than an off-shoot through Mist (Ike’s younger sister) and Boyd, many got upset. “How could Ike have a kid? He’s not interested in women. He likes Soren.” is something I see regularly while scouring through Priam’s tag on Tumblr or through comments on Youtube. And I’m not here to argue against that. I do, however, think I have an idea why Priam was chosen to be Ike’s descendant of all the previous lords: Super Smash Bros. Brawl.

Brawl, at the time, was the latest Smash Bros. game when Awakening was in development. Smash Bros. is usually how Nintendo fans branch out from just playing Mario, Zelda, Pokemon, or Kirby and get introduced to series they might not have even heard of, such as Fire Emblem. In fact, it was due to Marth & Roy’s appearance in the previous Smash Bros. game, Melee, that the West got their first taste of Fire Emblem games. However, in Brawl, Roy was removed from the roster and was replaced with Ike. This makes sense, as Path of Radiance was the latest console Fire Emblem game when Brawl was released. (I also wonder if it has to do with the west never receiving Roy’s game, but that’s just speculating on my end). Gotta promote your games somehow. Though from what I understand, the Tellius games did not sell as well as Intelligent Systems had hoped. Additionally, with the following games being remakes of Marth’s original adventures now on the DS, those also did not sell well. Heck, the west never officially got the remake for Mystery of the Emblem. 

This could just be fan speculation ruminating throughout the decades, but it seems to be common belief that due to poor sales, Fire Emblem was almost a goner franchise that probably would’ve remained dormant for decades or even had no games developed for it. As such, Intelligent Systems wanted to broaden the market by appealing to newcomers. Some that may have heard about Fire Emblem through Smash Bros., but never gave it a shot due to the permadeath system that the games were infamous for, or just no real interest beforehand. Awakening exploded in popularity, garnering new fans like crazy. And with Chrom, Lissa, Emmeryn, Lucina, and Owain being descendants of the recognizable Marth (especially as Lucian disguising herself as Marth and even being briefly confused for Marth by Tiki), it would make sense to have a supposed descendant of the recognizable Ike as well. …Although one could speculate that Walhart is a descendant of Alm & Celica, which makes sense given how Rudolf looks… And for more reference’s sake, they threw in a bunch of past Fire Emblem throwbacks in weapons & lore that made writing a worldbuilding-centric fic a fucking nightmare.

So, with all of that, what are my thoughts on Priam being related to Ike? 

…Eh? 

My whole explanation beforehand was me retelling how I got into Awakening in the first place sprinkled in with hearsay I’ve read online, but as I grow older & more bitter at the world, Priam could be related to a shoe for all I care. (Although if Roy DID stick in Brawl, it would be cool to see how his descendant would be, especially if we’re going the route of Eliwood/Ninian having Roy, who then marries Lillina). What I like about Priam is traits somewhat shown in Ike, sure, but it’s also just the missing potential that keeps me coming back to him.

SO, time to get into how I started to like him. I remember when I first played Awakening, I asked a friend if I should pick between Stahl or Lon’qu to marry (as I was aware of the auto-marriage to Chrom mechanic and wanted to avoid that). The friend said Stahl was a better pick, as he was a kind lad that loved to eat & had messy hair like yours truly. Then, when the Spotpass maps were released, I immediately made a new save file so that I could marry Priam. Why? …Because he had a bandana and I liked his English voice acting (for the few grunts & battle quotes that were present). The Awakening Hero armor design is eh, but I liked how his was customized to be, well, radiant. The 3D model was shinier than those of Flavia’s or other playable reclassed Heroes, and I really just liked how he paired a tattered cape with his armor. 

I also remember level grinding for an entire summer just so I could finally take on his map efficiently. Granted, I played Normal/Casual, but when I replayed the map a 3rd time for another save file, my units were barely able to beat him. It was worth it, in my opinion. 

What really made me start up that second save file were his supports with Female Robin. Priam is an unfortunate case of “Avatar-sexual”, meaning he only has supports with Robin & Morgan if he’s his dad (although in the Hot Springs DLC, he does have a nice chat with Yen’fay & tries his damnest to fight Walhart). We only learn small things about him, such as his love for training & how he utilizes breathing techniques that would fit right into Jojo or Demon Slayer. He also gets flustered when someone does something nice for him unexpectedly, such as Female Robin doing his laundry as thanks for training with her. He doesn’t really care about expenses, as he bought a really fucking expensive ring when he proposed to Female Robin and says “I don’t give a damn what you do” when you sell items in his inventory. He’s devoted to the point of letting the world burn before seeing Female Robin get hurt (thankfully not to a yandere-like level). …And you learn he fought a bear when he was 12 if you support with Male Robin. He’s what got me to liking characters that had muscle (yes even though Basilio and Vaike were right there).

Combat wise, he was a good non-armor defensive unit (especially with wielding Ragnell to give him +5 defense), but what I find neat is that he learns weapon breaker skills even in classes he can’t become, like Gryphon Rider having Lancebreaker. He has both Sol and Luna, but not Aether like. This might be so Aether stays exclusive to Chrom, Lucina, and a potential daughter/granddaughter, but I speculated this could be Priam either holding himself back from using Aether’s potential or him still trying to figure it out.

Along with this, if you were a budding mythology/history nerd like I was, you realize he was named after not one, but two! TWO! Important figures in the Trojan War: King Priam and his son, Paris (In Japanese, Priam is named Paris, so yes, go ahead and make the French jokes. His English voice actor already plays the Frenchiest Fry Virion himself). In fact, this was one of the many things that sparked my interest in mythology/history. 

And finally, this was around the time I was starting to get interested in voice acting trivia. This meant I wanted to act as a human IMDB page and go “whoa, did you know such and such shared a voice with so and so?! Isn’t that neat?!” At the time, I didn’t know Jamieson Price also voiced Virion, but I DID know he voiced Iskandar from Fate/Zero and Chad from Bleach. Those were 2 of my favorite characters so I was sold. And then for Japanese, Daisuke Ono voices him. Jotaro Kujo from Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure and Shizuo Heiwajima from Durarara!! Of all things! WOW! 

All of this is really fucking cool shit, and it’s such a damn waste that Intelligent Systems doesn’t do anything else with him! 

To fill in my disappointment, I’ve definitely created a version of Priam in my head that’s drastically different from canon. I’ve incorporated elements from what I’ve continued to read in his supports, inspiration coming from moments & traits from other series that I’ve watched/played that I thought would be cool, and overall just positive things to keep me going when I was going through a rough spot. Canonically, he’s probably like what people expect Goku from Dragon Ball Z to be. In my mind, he’s like a battle-hardened tactician brawler that gets very excited about swords (to the point where he takes up blacksmithing to craft his own), loves to speak about life in a philosophical lens, and experiences a quiet yet extremely unsettling quiet anger when someone he cares about gets hurt. I also headcanon he uses his headband to cover scars from his bout with fighting a bear when he was 12. OH! And he gets to have twin girls: Cassandra and Helena. 

…So yeah, completely different from canon. But with only 3 Cipher cards and 1 appearance in Heroes as I type this to go by, I feel like it’s okay to speculate about what could have been. He could have been in Awakening’s main story as an opponent to Walhart during the second arc, or he could have been a recurring superboss in future Fire Emblem games that somehow always ends up in different dimensions. He could have been a hint for an upcoming Fire Emblem game that explored Tellius 1,000 years in the future much like how Awakening explored Archanaea & Valentia 1,000 years after Marth, Alm, and Celica ruled. (And apparently 2,000 years after Seliph ruled Jugdral? Again, consistent worldbuilding in this series is a nightmare if you try to connect all the games). Heck, I thought that was going to be what Fates was when I saw the cutscene of King Sumeragi shielding baby Corrin from arrows. 

Part of the reason why I’m so attached to Priam is spite from this lack of potential, and the fans mostly ignoring him for their own reasons. Like! We could have had so much more with this guy! And that kept me motivated during dark times in my life. I won’t go into specifics, as it’s quite personal & possibly triggering, but I’ll just say I felt very upset, very angry, and very alone at a certain point in my life. But I kept myself going for the unrealistic but still plausible goal of getting to see Priam get his own game. It might sound dumb, but it kept me wanting to move forward in life. And it’s because of that that I’m here today, and I’ve met other Priam fans online that have their own ways of showing that they like him. They have different reasons than me, and that’s awesome! Priam fans, in spite of their small numbers, exist! When I first joined Tumblr, I unofficially joined a “Radiant Waifu Society” where 3 other people were also Priam fans. I don’t talk to them as much as I did back then, but I do see one of the members post art from time to time & another one makes Fire Emblem Heroes content on Youtube now! I’ve also met one of my best online friends through a shared interest in Priam. She introduced me to many new friends I’ve made over the years, and I still talk with a few of them on a daily basis in friend group servers on Discord. I love sharing cursed voice acting trivia with her and the many other friends whenever I get the chance to, especially seeing their initial reactions when I tell them Priam is also voiced by Jelly Jiggler of Bobobo fame. 

All in all, I’d say Priam, in spite of his controversies in fandom spaces, was a great positive in my life that I can’t help but be thankful for. Intelligent Systems probably didn’t expect someone to care for this one-off character so much, but anything’s possible these days. 

Thank you for being such a positive force in my life, Priam Fire Emblem. With your map no longer being legal to download, here’s hoping you get your own game someday.

[inkskinned]

they want to talk about mental illness and acceptance and how everyone is a little ocd it's cute and quirky and their "intrusive thoughts" are about cutting their hair off and you say yours are about taking a razorblade to your eye and they say ew can you not and everyone is a little adhd sometimes! except if you're late it's a personality flaw and it's because you are careless and cruel (and someone else with adhd mentions they can be on time, so why can't you?) and it's not an eating disorder if it's girl dinner! it's not mania if it's girl math! what do you mean you blew all of your savings on nonrefundable plane tickets for a plane you didn't even end up taking. what do you mean that you are afraid of eating. get over it. they roll their little lips up into a sneer. can you not, like, trauma dump?

they love it on them they like to wear pieces of your suffering like jewels so that it hangs off their tongue in rapiers. they are allowed to arm-chair diagnose and cherrypick their poisons but you can't ever miss too many showers because that's, like, "fuckken gross?" so anyone mean is a narcissist. so anyone with visual tics is clearly faking it and is so cringe. but they get to scream and hit customer service employees because well, i got overwhelmed.

you keep seeing these posts about how people pleasers are "inherently manipulative" and how it's totally unfair behavior. but you are a people pleaser, you have an ingrained fawn response. in the comments, you have typed and deleted the words just because it is technically true does not make it an empathetic or kind reading of the reaction about one million times. it is technically accurate, after all. you think of catholic guilt, how sometimes you feel bad when doing a good deed because the sense of pride you get from acting kind - that pride is a sin. the word "manipulation" is not without bias or stigma attached to it. many people with the fawn response are direct victims of someone who was malignantly manipulative. calling the victims manipulative too is an unfair and unkind reading of the situation. it would be better and more empathetic to say it is safety-seeking or connection-seeking behavior. yes, it can be toxic. no, in general it is not intended to be toxic. there is no reason to make mentally ill people feel worse for what we undergo.

you type why is everyone so quick to turn on someone showing clear signs of trauma but you already know the fucking answer, so what's the point of bothering. you kind of hate those this is what anxiety looks like! infographics because at this point you're so good at white-knuckling through a severe panic attack that people just think you're stoic. even people who know the situation sometimes comment you just don't seem depressed. and you're not a 9 year old white kid so there's no way you're on the spectrum, you're not obsessed with trains and you were never a good mathematician. okay then.

mental illness is trending. in 2012 tumblr said don't romanticize our symptoms but to be fair tiktok didn't exist yet. there's these series of videos where someone pretends to be "the most boring person on earth" and is just being a normal fucking person, which makes your skin crawl, because that probably means you are boring. your friend reads aloud a profile from tinder - no depressed bitches i fucking hate that mental illness crap. your father says that medication never actually works.

you still haven't told your grandmother that you're in therapy. despite everything (and the fact it's helping): you just don't want her to see you differently.

[artytaeh]

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

can i disagree with some of this fandom's perception of tom riddle? surely he won't be a sweetheart like lorenzo, but...

┊ i also don't think that he'd be so intentionally rude, so cold towards his significant other. i honestly think that if tom ever becomes infatuated with someone, he would take pride into getting this someone to belong to him. willingly! 🌷

౨ৎ i guess i'll never know the reason why you ♡ ͡

love me like you do; that's the wonder of you . . .

... tom riddle is a smart man, you see. love, romantic feelings, to act like a couple and all of those things— these might be the most confused that tom riddle will ever be, because otherwise, he's an extremely competent, capable young man.

tom riddle does get confused, a little lost on what to do; he'd torture himself by discreetly watching couples at hogwarts interacting, maybe make some research (= read novels. romantic novels. it was a discovery of a new medieval torture for tom, seriously, to waste his precious time reading some sappy crap like that.) to better understand how to handle you.

how to deal with you.

how to cherish you, so that you don't ever entertain the idea of leaving him. you see, tom is a practical man— he'd rather not commit mistakes, because to fail, means to spend extra time fixing his error and doing the same thing twice, so that this time, it's done correctly.

applying this ideology to you, it means: that 1) tom riddle prefers to always keep your heart happy, so that you don't have doubts about him; so that 2) he won't have to take twice the effort to conquer the city of your heart again.

some think that tom wouldn't like petnames. to be fair, tom would frown at many of those, at first— thinking that they were cringe, disgusting or a psychological way to acquire diabetes. however, when tom gets used to this stir on his heart, those loud heart beatings that cloud his rational thoughts...

... it's excused to say that tom's preferred petname to call you by, is 'my love'.

tom reasons that's because it isn't a lie at all. well, you're certainly his— and because of you, because of your existence, of this enchanting aura of yours; that's how tom riddle discovered love. there are few things that tom is attached to. even fewer that he shows to care about, to have affectionate feelings for; one of them is the basilisk. others are his favorite books, all of them first editions that were troublesome, but endlessly worth it, to get. nevertheless, at the peak of the pyramid, there's you.

you. oh, how your name sounds so angelic, so right, so perfect on his lips. sometimes, tom doesn't call you by any petnames, so that he can mouth each syllable of your name, tasting the acquaintance of the name of his darling on his lips.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

he might call you by other petnames, depending on the occasions:

darling; which, in his opinion, is fairly one of the best petnames to be shared between a couple. because you, reader, are endearing to his eyes— a darling, really, whose presence immediately softens (ever so slightly, because tom riddle still is tom riddle himself, and that mask of stoicism of his won't be broken without putting up a fight.) those previously icy, cold eyes of his.

dearest; if tom is trying to reason with you. unlike what many think, tom would take a deep breath, put on that handsome smile of his, and use a gentle tone to convince some words inside that pretty little head of yours. 'dearest', he calls for you— so gentle, so full of affection; as if reminding you that you are the object of all of his affections and desires. you, his dearest, the one he adores the most. the reminder of such a fact easily melts you in less than a few seconds, which tom sees as too perfect of an opportunity to lose to convince you much faster.

doll; if you look rather ravishing to his eyes, whenever you dress up even prettier than other school days, and wear such pretty clothes and many accessories to further optimize your beauty. beautiful, perfect, flawless; like a doll. a carefully made doll. a doll, that sits there quiet and all pretty, obedient, doing as she's told.

( i must warn you, though, that tom won't entertain silly nicknames from you. tom riddle will ignore you, march forward without sparing a glance at you, not even acknowledging your presence should you insist on the matter. tom won't answer you, should you refer to him by such hideous petnames. you could be about to fall from a mountain, and yet tom won't help you until you address him properly. baby? he's not a child, for salazar's sake! pookie bear? now that might make tom riddle himself throw you off from the mountain's edge— call him such a monstrosity like that, and tom will lose every drop of faith on you. you're a lost cause. )

if he had to choose; yes, tom would prefer if you were obedient. contrary to popular belief, tom riddle is quite fascinated with sweet personas. to have a sweet significant other, who's all smiles and considerate words— it's so, so much easier for tom.

between a brat that trashes around for his attention, and a sweet girl who gently tries to indulge (purely out of concern, wanting him to share his problems with her!)— tom would rather choose the latter.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

quite the darling you are. to boldly take tom's hands between your own, with that frown of yours. no, you're not being whiny; yet tom can see that there's consideration, there's time spent on that little brain of yours, that tries to find the right words to speak with him.

then, when you voice your concerns— that tom spends some time alone from time to time, seemingly hiding something from you, as if to shoulder all of those burdens all by himself...

tom takes a deep breath, swallowing his temper. trying to keep his composure, because tom hates having to justify his actions. with a smile, tom puts on a facade, with a too much convincing tone: "oh, dearest, no. i'm flattered that you noticed that i haven't been having the best days; however, your presence makes everything better. in fact, being with you now, makes all of my problems seem insignificant in comparison."

should his sweet words not be enough to keep your nose out of his business, then tom takes a step further. holding your hands, tom squeezes them between his fingers, gently at first, tightly when you're too stubborn: "my problems are mine to solve, my love. i would never put such a heavy burden on you; your smile is too precious for me to ruin."

sweet, sweet words; some that tom mentally grimaces at, but knows that are necessary and effective with you. talking as if he's doing you a favor on keeping you away from his PERSONAL thoughts and goals.

and that's how tom pushes you way. gently, smoothly— so that you'd have to rethink this moment over and over, for you to understand that once again, tom riddle has tricked you; tricked you into doing what he wants. because without a fight, without you daring to bother him further... tom riddle made you go back to your own business, and leave his alone.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

however, when tom is in a better mood and less stressed with his own goals, he'd find it funny, entertaining even, if his darling tried to be bossy. to pout, to want some sort of control. it's hilarious for him.

so, he indulges you. well, sort of— tom tricks you into thinking that he gave in to your commands. to your whims. in a sneaky way, tom makes you think that you're in control!

the one who's in charge is you. yes, darling, of course. he pats your head, gives you that charming smile of his. with such a serene expression, tom briefly raises his eyebrows, mocking you inside that devious mind of his, as he says: you are absolutely right, dearest.

tom riddle doesn't really mind that you aren't consciously aware that the one in charge is him. that's fine; no, seriously, go and brag about it!

because ultimately, tom knows that what he says, goes. that with some sweet words of his, a little touch here and there, that you'll soon see the reason and comply to whatever tom wishes you to say, to do, to behave.

he does is so smoothly, that even for the outsiders, well... it'd be hard to realize that all that tom riddle is doing to you, is nothing but manipulation. and you're oh so easy to manipulate— it was a challenge at first. now, it's more of a chore; tom barely blinks through it. he knows you so well.

however, so that you whining and getting used to think that you're having things done your way, tom throws some praises and compliments here and there.

touching you chin, gently brushing his thumb on your lower lip; tom's gaze intentionally softens, as he praises: 'you're just too good to be true, my love.', whenever you act accordingly. when you do as he says.

brushing a strand of yours away from your face, so that he can further admire the physical features of his beloved: 'i sincerely can't take my eyes of you, darling, when you are so good for me like this. pardon the way that i stare— you're too beautiful.'

and with even more sincerity, tom riddle isn't sure where his manipulation ends and his genuine care for you starts; tom isn't sure, whether his words are now a muscle memory of his, or if he truly means them.

but he never allows himself to discover the roots of this thought. to actually find out if he truly is such an emotionally shallow person, or if his weakness for his darling is deeper than he realizes. no— this is one of the few matters, in which tom would rather remain ignorant about.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

because tom is such a gentleman with you...

opening doors for you. walking two, three steps ahead of you as soon as the entrance is upon sight, tom will open the door for you; his arm keeps it open for you to enter or leave the room first, and so those grayish-green eyes of his watch you, as you pass by. then, tom will enter just behind you, following your lead, quickening his steps to go back to his rightful place by your side. he lies to himself, saying that he only does such a small gesture to effortlessly keep you by his side. tom would be telling the truth, if he doesn't interrupt the thought that he enjoys to escort you— because, deep down, tom genuinely appreciates your company. every step, every minute you spend together. 'here, love. please, continue; what did you tell your housemate, then?'

tom riddle refuses to let you carry heavy books. so, as if it was muscle memory and so smoothly that you can't do anything about it, tom will carry your books along with his, as soon as you leave the classroom. it's not that he finds you useless, incapable; rather, tom riddle perceives you as a... preciously delicate, fragile little thing. most of the times, tom does it so nonchalantly that you don't even notice; you're too distracted by your conversation, to notice how tom carries your stuff, busying his arms. however, should you notice or worry that you're being a burden to tom in any way; tom shakes his head at you, waving off this silly insecurity of yours: 'i know you can carry them, beloved. however, allow me to do it for you. i am your boyfriend, am i not?'

offering his hand for you to take, whenever there's a higher step to be climbed up, or tricky stairs on your way. tom will do it too, to give you some kind of support, should you jump off of a particular high edge. whenever you wear high heels, tom would be specially careful with you— he offers his arm or hand for you to take, walking in a much slower pace than usual, so that you won't overexert your feet. we can't have his darling getting hurt, now can we? no bruises, no pain, no redness on your skin undesired by him, nothing to interrupt the lovely time you're spending together. 'take my hand, my love; it's quite high for you. that's it, darling, good girl.'

whenever you're about to sit, tom grabs the back of your chair, pushing the seat backwards for you to take, then helps you settle closer to the table. only then, will tom take his own seat in front of you. it's something that becomes so, so common between both of you, that sometimes you find yourself taking a few more seconds to sit down, whenever you hang out with your friends; unconsciously, you'd wait for tom to gently guide you to your seat. oh, you're spoiled.

leaning down to get the material you accidentally knocked out; if he's not quick enough to notice, then tom will keep his hand on the edge of the table, so that there's no chance for you to hit your head. 'quite the klutz, aren't you, darling?' — with a lighthearted tone, so that he doesn't come by as mean, tom couldn't help but to tease you just this time, — 'next time, let me get it for you, dearest. now, careful with your head.'

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

... and because he's always so soft-spoken with you, well, how could you listen to your friends, in case they notice that maybe tom riddle isn't as a good guy as he lets on? that perhaps, he is a little controlling. that maybe, he's too overprotective of you.

→ and of course, being the fool you are, you stroll to the lion's cage (or should we call it snake?) and deliver all of this information on a silver platter for him.

SAT SIDEWAYS ON HIS LAP, tom settles your thighs to rest on top of his, while a hand is respectfully kept there; caressing the smooth skin, rubbing circles on the bare skin of your thigh, just inches underneath the hem of your skirt.

tom riddle keeps up a serene expression, sometimes humming in acknowledgement, to show you that he's listening to this ramble of yours. if it's a topic that seems to have bothered or upsets you, then tom will keep another hand on your lower back; he soothes you with small movements of his fingers.

oh, how funny. so this ravenclaw friend of yours, told you that it isn't normal for tom, your boyfriend, to comment whether you roll up your skirt during summer? that such a thing is being controlling? now that's something tom will have to deal with. perhaps, he'll only have to frame this irritating ravenclaw girl; have you ever thought that maybe, she's interested in tom? that must be why the ravenclaw is filling your pretty little brain with such absurd exaggerations of his doings. how lucky you are, to have an attentive boyfriend that easily notices when a friend of yours has bad intentions.

( for obvious reasons, tom despises amortentia. he finds it disgusting, but more than that, tom riddle perceives amortentia has a rather pathetic tool to get someone's affection. tom will never use it on you— he doesn't need to! however, he will get his hands on one, to use it on that nosy, insufferable ravenclaw friend of yours. only to prove his point. so that this nosy girl acts disgustingly flirty around tom, so that you'll come running back into his arms, crying about such an awful friend and that once again, tom was right. you apologize to him, for doubting his assumptions. you end this friendship and cut ties with the ravenclaw girl. and tom, well, tom riddle has once again rid both of you from troublesome outsiders. )

ah, now this is entertaining! so these friends of yours, housemates, have noticed that tom has been keeping an eye on you. now, dearest, that's rather silly, don't you think? so what if you seem to find the same familiar faces in the same space as you? do you really believe your friends' theories? that he sends his followers ''friends'' to follow you around the school? darling, hogwarts is quite enormous and spacious, yet all of you study together in the same castle. it's inevitable, to see familiar faces, here and there.

( however, tom will blame his followers. how difficult can it be, to follow, to stalk a girl like you? and to go unnoticed as they do that? sincerely, tom stares at them with such disgust, such disappointment, that his followers tremble under his gaze— the future dark lord even mentions the idea of getting rid of them. of throwing them away. after all, why would he need such useless, such incompetent boys like them, if they can't follow simple orders correctly? it's excused to say, that you'd never suspect being stalked again. 1) because tom reassured you that such a thought is rather silly; and 2), because these followers of tom riddle do a much better job. out of fear. )

oh, darling, what silly friends you have! sincerely, it seems like you only attract observant delusional friends, or attentive paranoid companies!

in the end, it doesn't matter if your friends tried to alert you about tom's toxic concerning flaws traits. because in the end, at night, he will have you nuzzling on his lap, holding you so tenderly; all of these warnings disappear into thin air, when tom makes you laugh at such accurate ridiculous accusations.

in conclusion: no, tom riddle would never be rude or snap at you; not if he can help it, not if he can keep his temper in check. he believes that the best way to keep you so effortlessly devoted and infatuated, to keep you willingly by his side, is to treat you with care (even if sometimes he has to manipulate his way into it). how lucky you are, to have such a obsessive caring boyfriend!

🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.

— i'm endlessly faithful to theodore nott. however. the first to kick the entrance door to my heart was tom riddle. and what a man (i can't fix him. i would let him ruin my life him tho!), ladies and gentlemen.

the headers + gifs + icons aren't mine. credits to the respective creators ! 🌷

[ohsohoney]

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part One

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Hey! First time writing for Em so I figured I'd use a side account and see how it went? Honestly this is a whole series in my mind so might add onto this first part soon! An oc character but can be read as a reader insert if you prefer:)

Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

Warnings: Lots of swearing, dark humour

Masterlist

I was mortified.

More so than I’d probably ever been, in truth. All because of a stupid video that had been taken a couple of years back when I’d had one drink too many on a holiday I’d always dreamt of.

To be fair though, the majority of the blame lied heavily on my younger sister’s shoulders, who’d found the stupid thing whilst reminiscing through old memories and thought it would be hilarious to post online. Forgetting about the millions of fans who would soon see it– and not just mine, it would seem.

No, because that just wasn’t how the internet worked, was it? And when a newly nominated artist, who had only been in the game for a couple years, was filmed rapping an old noughties classic instead of singing like expected, it was basically bound to go viral. Didn’t help that I was a Londoner through and through and had the accent to prove it, making the whole video that much harder to watch. In truth, I continued to cringe each time I was reminded of it, which was practically anytime I opened up social media or witnessed the guilty expression that continued to mar my sister’s face.

“Stop doing that.” I huffed at her later on when the worst of it still continued to storm on, almost whining actually as I looked away from my phone screen and down at the food I wasn’t really eating, just picking at. I was supposed to be mad, infuriated even, but it was proving to be a fucking chore when she kept on looking at me like that.

“Doing what?” Lottie retorted, not even attempting to wipe the culpable look from off of her face. She was currently residing back at mum’s now, seeing as how she had school and I’d only just landed back home, but I’d give it a day before she was back here again. My flight over had been strenuous, it always was when flying to and from Cali, but still I made time for her– even after the most recent stunt she had gone and pulled.

“Don’t do that either.” 

I’d meant to sound scolding but the soft laugh that escaped me truly was accidental. I couldn’t quite help it, I knew that being mad at her wouldn’t solve anything now and that she hadn’t really meant any harm by posting the video. That was just the type of person she was, she acted before she thought things through and didn’t ever think much for the consequences. Then again, she was still only fourteen and her putting the drunken moment on her Instagram story had just been one of those sibling type moments, the kind where you’d rip the piss out of one another simply because you could.

“I mean it, Lotts.” I sighed around the words, eyes flitting back to the screen and the way she was chewing on her lower lip. “It’s being sorted and, I don't know, I guess it’ll die down sooner or later. Mila reckons so anyway. We’ll give it a day or two, hey?”

A day or two did pass. And no such thing happened.

I’d been cooped up at home ever since I’d touched down at Heathrow, having jumped in the first cab available and fallen asleep the second I’d gotten in through the door. I’d been working out in LA for a couple weeks with a few other writers, just messing about with new sounds and ideas for the next album I eventually wanted to release. So I hadn’t been witness to the media catastrophe Lottie had created until later the next afternoon when Mila, my manager, had all but mowed down my front door, having called my phone three dozen times and gotten a guy she was currently seeing in the city to come buzz my intercom. It had been a wake up call and a half to say the least.

Still, she had assumed it would all die down fairly quickly, went as far to say that it could do wonders for my career– even with me being visibly tipsy– after having had the absolute gall to say that I hadn’t sounded half as bad as I thought I did. I’d cackled hysterically into the phone at that, then had somewhat of a meltdown, in utter disbelief over the apparent reaction she claimed the video had gone and garnered. Because I was absolutely not looking. Knew that if I did there would be too large a chance that I’d check myself into the nearest psychiatric unit. 

But as I said, a couple of days had passed and typically something like this would have eventually blown over when the next big story hit the headlines. White girl can spit a verse, who cared? Only then the VMA’s had happened and shit hit the fucking fan.

I hadn’t attended, shit like that had always irked me. I could perform in front of a crowd of thousands and step off feeling as high as a kite, but stick me on a carpet and force me to interact with cameras, questions, and people? That was where I drew the line.

At the start, I had tried. I’d been new on the scene and people had reasoned that I would just end up being another one hit wonder, so the label had figured it best if I got myself out there, if only to interact with other artists and producers in similar circles.

It had gone down a treat– like a cake being knocked over at the wedding of the year. Maybe even worse. I didn’t like to linger too long on it.

But I’d tried again and again afterwards, although it had only proven to worsen my mood each time and forced me to retreat, avoiding my team and the responsibilities I had lined up for a short while after. It was only following a particularly uncomfortable night that Mila had called it quits and had a contract drawn up stating that I only had to attend a certain amount of events a year. It had been at that moment that I’d realised just how fucked I would have been in this industry without her.

Even so, life still continued on without me and the VMA’s were just another show I would be mostly avoiding, only making a statement at the end of the night online for the nominations I’d been gifted.

It was around midnight when I heard the scream.

Lottie was staying with me, typical for whenever I was back in London for a few weeks at a time, and so I’d felt my heart literally drop to my feet at the very sound of her screech and legged it across the entirety of the house. At first, I’d thought she’d slipped and fallen, maybe cracked her head open on a counter. And then the thought of an intruder had crossed my mind whilst I’d gone skidding over the landing. So anyone could understand why I was so worked up when I finally threw open her bedroom door only to find her simply sat there on her phone, hand covering her mouth.

“What the hell is your problem? It’s just gone twelve, Lottie! I thought something had happened!” I rebuked her, chest heaving as I dropped the heavy bookend I’d managed to pick up somewhere on my way over down onto her desk. “Shit.”

Her eyes were wider than I’d ever seen them though when I finally did get around to catching my breath and chanced another glance back at her.

“I was literally just about to fall asleep.” Which really meant that I’d been getting into bed to scroll through my phone or read a book when I’d heard her shout. “Then you screamed as though Freddy Krueger was stood at your window.”

“Elia.” 

I blinked, Lottie rarely did that, used my entire name and not the usual shortened version or whatever other epithet that came to mind– and truly, there was a large variety, the shit I’d heard this kid come out with was insane. But I shook my head at the thought and quirked a brow at her. “What? Did someone die?”

“No,” She answered me, dropping her hand away from her face even though her jaw was still gaping, “But I just might.”

Rolling my eyes at the theatrics, I exhaled and walked over to slump on the end of her bed, figuring that something had happened between her and one of her friends, or maybe some lad she might’ve been speaking to. “And it deserved a scream like that? Honestly Lotts, just be thankful this place doesn’t have any neighbours listening in through the walls.” I told her, thinking back to my own adolescent years and the woman in the flat beside ours, “We’d have someone knocking at the door in under a half hour.”

It was her turn to roll her eyes then as she scoffed at me– like I was the one being dramatic here– before she then shook her head and shuffled hurriedly over the mattress to sit closer. “No Lia, just listen, look.”

Confused, I sighed and tilted my head when Lottie moved to shove her mobile in my face. I squinted at the sudden contrast, showing off my age and the horrific tragedy that was my eyesight, and tried to make sense of whatever it was that she was so hellbent on showing me. 

From what I could first make out, it was just a Twitter thread, but then Lotts then clicked on the main video at the top. I waited as the clip buffered for a second, then a familiar face panned into focus and I felt my brow furrow. I peered over at Lottie for a split second before her eyes were widening in retort and she gestured her chin back towards the screen.

I narrowed my own eyes in turn, but watched on.

It had to be a coincidence, I reasoned. That of all people it was him that Lottie was currently showing me.

“Well, aren’t we in for a show tonight! Eminem is in the house, people!” An interviewer started, she was a tall, leggy blonde who held a too big microphone too close to her chin. “How are you feeling?”

I shouldn’t have been as surprised as I was to see him on the VMA’s carpet, not after the comeback he’d made late last year with LP 2, but I was, eyes caught on the bleached buzz cut he’d since reverted back to for the album’s release. Fuck, I’d be so pissed if it came out that he was performing tonight and I’d gone ahead and missed it.

Lottie thumped my shoulder, hard, realising fairly quickly that I hadn’t really been listening, and so I scowled in retort but gritted my teeth to keep from thumping her right back. She might’ve been my sister, but I had well over a decade on the kid and was marginally her guardian, just not in writing.

The rapper had seemingly just finished commenting on a question the tall blonde had asked him and so I forced myself to pay closer attention, brain whirling as I wondered what could have possibly been so important that it had Lottie screaming bloody murder in the middle of the night.

“I feel that!” The woman practically beamed at the rapper, head nodding along to whatever he’d just said, “But it’s good to hear that you’re enjoying being back. In truth, I wasn’t sure I’d catch you here tonight, there’s been a lot of buzz surrounding you at the moment and not just because of the album!”

My heart stuttered in my chest. Actually, I was pretty sure it had gone and fallen out of my arse, especially when the interviewer continued to press on the topic and it appeared as though the man in question understood exactly what she was getting at. His stoic facade cracked just a tad and– there! A smirk. An ever so slight crook of his mouth. I shot a startled glance over at Lottie but her gaze was fixated on the screen.

“I mean, have you seen it?” The interviewer prompted whilst he simply stood there, fisted hands clasped before him. No sign of the split second curve he’d just had on his lips. “The whole world’s been wondering about your thoughts on the singer!”

And there it was.

“I can’t,” I started to say, turning away from the phone just as a rush of nausea flooded through me, but Lottie held strong, hand coming up to catch my shoulder so that she could position her phone back in my eyeline. “Lottie–” I tried. Please.

“Just listen.” She persisted, face so serious.

Immediately I wanted to rescind my earlier statement. This was now my most mortifying moment. In fact, I wanted to hide in the nearest cupboard and never come out again. How the fuck was I going to show my face in public, not to mention at the next event, after this?

I swallowed thickly, entirely unprepared to hear a word he had to say about me. I mean, who would be? This man was leagues above a majority of the industry, me included. Never had I ever even thought that he could hear my name in passing, let alone listen to one of my songs playing in some shop he was coincidentally in or a random radio station. But here he now was, rolling his lips as he pondered over a question which concerned that stupid fucking video. 

“I hate you.” I whispered at Lottie, mostly in hopes to cover up whatever he was about to say, but also because I was embarrassed beyond belief. And this was all her fault.

In the time spent since the drunken video had first gone up and now, I had yet to even think about him ever seeing it. Because the idea was that far fetched. But this was me, so of course he had.

“I’ve heard it.” Marshall confirmed, his head dipped in a barely there nod. My throat cinched. I wondered briefly how quickly I’d be able to tie myself a noose.

“And?” The woman prodded and internally I cursed her future bloodline, hoping that she'd somehow spawn the next antichrist or that her grandchild would become a shit-headed politician.

The man in question merely hummed, hollowing out his cheeks. “I was surprised, I have to admit. But she’s good, even when wasted.”

“I wasn’t fucking wasted!” 

I hadn't even realised I’d spoken out loud until Lottie snorted on a chuckle. I turned towards her, brows raised high, “What? I wasn’t. You were there!”

I rolled my eyes when she didn’t deign me with some sort of assent but my head snapped back over to where she still gripped the phone when I heard him speak again, his voice echoing throughout the quiet bedroom.

“Then again, her shit goes hard. So it shouldn’t be too much of a surprise.”

That heart of mine that I kept on talking about? Yeah, I had zero clue as to what the fuck was going on with it now, only that my chest was wound as tight as it possibly could be and my eyes stung as I withheld the urge to even blink.

“You’re a fan?” The woman asked him, appearing genuinely surprised by the notion, even though it sounded more like a declaration rather than the question it was.

Marshall hummed, sparing a brief glance over his shoulder when a group shuffled on past them, disrupting the interview. It didn’t deter the woman though and I couldn’t blame her, no matter how much it pained me.

“So, could this mean we’ll be seeing a new featured artist on whatever you put out next?”

I made some sort of inhuman sound at that, but barely moved a muscle. And then I all but shutdown when the rapper's wide eyes flickered over to peer straight into the camera’s lens, “I mean, if she’s down.”

The next scream that was emitted once again came from Lottie, but I couldn’t think to scold her for it, not when I was hardly even functioning and wanted to implode myself. 

The girl toppled over onto me, shaking my shoulders whilst she squealed unabashedly. “If. She’s. Down!” She repeated, squealing with excitement, “El, this is insane! How are you not screaming too?”

The air I forced from my lungs came out in a breathless chuckle as I clung to the forearm that was still wrapped around my collar. In truth, I didn’t know how the hell I was supposed to react. 

“Figure you’ve screamed enough for the both of us.” I replied faintly, not really thinking but somehow managing to carry on, mostly out of sheer shock. I glanced her way, “I feel a bit sick.”

Lottie just shook me harder and when we eventually went falling down onto the duvet in a mess of limbs I wondered what I was going to do with the knowledge that I’d just been given. God. He knew who I was. The shock of it was almost like reliving my first time on stage all over again.

That night I ended up listening to Lottie rant on and on for a good while after whilst she scrolled through her Twitter feed and the rest of the internet. Mila eventually intervened, calling after having seen it too, and was as smug as ever. “Told you.” She’d said the second I’d hit the answer button and I hadn’t had the heart to play it off or act as though I hadn’t seen it either. 

After the interview eventually finished trending and stopped being posted here, there, and everywhere, I was left with a flow of new followers but also a nightmare of opinions spouting from every corner of the planet on any comment section I had to offer. I forced myself to come off most apps I had downloaded after that and resorted to gaining my daily entertainment, and any real news, from Lottie. Which seemed sad, in retrospect, but honestly? It was more than a little self-serving and I’d even managed to get a shit load of stuff done.

I worked on a couple new songs, sticking to what I did best, but my mind did end up drifting away every so often, back to a conversation I’d had with Mila and Travis at the label a couple days after the media storm had passed. It seemed they all wanted me to try implementing a few new concepts into the music I was currently working on before we started to draw up ideas for the next album. Travis reasoned that even attempting to add a couple freestyles into the motions whilst I went about writing would do me wonders later on. 

I just felt uncomfortable with it all, really. I’d never been a rapper. I mean, I loved it. It was mainly what I’d been brought up on, having grown up in an area where every kid on the estate was either attempting to become the next big thing or just blaring the biggest hits out of their car stereos. But that was just it. I listened and sang along, had even built up an extensive collection which I was immensely proud of, but the label were now aiming for this next album to make it onto a Grammy nominations list. It was all they had been fretting over since I’d somehow managed to chart the last one– although a single number one and an almost throw away making it to number seven didn’t make me all that hopeful. 

Even so, it forced me to wonder how it would all work if I started to switch things up now. I could appreciate all genres but I didn’t wanna become the next hopper just to appease the people yessing me and then fall off.

The entire concept had me confused and so I had taken to keeping my head down for a while longer.

Lottie had headed back to mum’s earlier that morning, seeing as I was due to make an appearance in Paris for Fashion Week, attending the Vogue show alongside Vivienne Westwood. An utter dream, yes, but also still an incredibly daunting reality. Even so, it was something I couldn’t quite worm my way out of even if I had wanted to– see, with that contract there still came clauses.

I’d been prepping for my upcoming early morning flight most of the day, showering later on than anticipated just so that I could pack my case and eat before I eventually climbed into bed. Hoping to somehow get a couple hours kip.

I’d thrown on a robe and kept the speakers blaring once I’d eventually jumped out from under the spray, wet hair curling at the ends as I worked on throwing something quick together in my kitchen.

It wasn't long before I went and took the bowl I’d just made out into the living room with me, simply so that I could curl up on the settee and wrap up the few emails I’d been working on earlier. I was just nodding along and humming to the next song that played through the overhead speakers when my phone started to buzz against my ankle, shooting a funny feeling up through the bone. I was quick to pick it up, wrinkling my nose at the feel and not paying much mind to the caller, figuring it had to be either Mila or Lottie.

“Hello?”

There was a short pause as I shifted the phone against my ear before a voice eventually sounded, “This Elia?”

Frowning, I casted a quick glance at the phone’s screen to find a number with an unfamiliar area code staring back at me. I let my gaze stray on over towards a clock I had hanging on the far wall only to find that it had just gone eight. 

I fumbled for a moment, “Um. It is, can I ask who’s calling?”

A low cough rumbled through the line before the same voice spoke again, I shuffled to set my laptop off to the side on the sofa, brow furrowed. “It’s Em– Marshall.”

Suddenly my head felt so very empty and my mouth was working around words that couldn't seem to find their way out. Em. The Em?? Fucking, Em?

I’d obviously been quiet a beat too long, drowning in the sudden panic that had shrouded me, because he spoke up again, “That Nas playin’?”

I shot a startled glance over my shoulder to where the fancy sound system was installed, the biggest reason I’d gone and purchased the home, in truth, and was immediately reminded of the music I had piercing through the air. Clumsily, I rolled off of the corner of the settee so that I could stumble over to turn the thing off, doing exactly that before I was forced to blink at the sudden silence that greeted me.

I winced and was quick to turn the music back on, keeping it low. All the while I still held my phone close to my chest.

“Uh, yeah. Hi!” I blundered helplessly after a moment, carding a hand through my damp hair as I stared at the empty wall before me stupidly. I wasn’t sure what to say, let alone do. I could sort of wrap my head around the interview, his brief mention of me. But a fucking phone call? It was on another level.

He chuckled though, enough so that I felt myself flush bashfully at my obvious awkwardness and forced my body to move back towards the sofa, if only so that I didn’t have to stand on shaky legs anymore. 

“Hi.” He mimicked, voice low albeit a tad amused.

I smiled. Unable to do anything but, in all honesty, as I lowered myself down onto the cushions, vaguely aware that I should probably be saying something else now that he’d gone and replied, but was simply more than a little caught off guard by everything. 

“Sorry, I– Well, I didn’t expect your call. Or anyones really.” I murmured, trying my best to shake off the nerves that were apparently wreaking havoc on my brain to mouth filter. “I just jumped out of the shower, had yet to turn off the stereo. Sorry.” How many times had I just apologised? I wanted to scream.

“You’re good.” He assured me, voice unlike what I probably would have expected and so I blinked once more at the sound of it, reminded that it was actually him I was talking to. But all that was fluttering through my head was ‘what the fuck are you doing calling me?’ “Nice choice, I gotta say. This an alright time for you to talk? I don’t wanna disturb you much.”

My eyes widened at both the compliment in song choice and well, him. Then withheld another sudden urge to scream, the hand not holding my phone clenching into a tight fist against my chest. “No, no, of course not. I mean, you’re fine! Not disturbing me at all.”

His next reply sounded more than just a little mirthful, “Sure ‘bout that?”

I willed myself to relax and took an inconspicuous breath as I pulled my legs back up under me. “I’m sure.” I told him, laughing lightly at myself for being so socially inept– or maybe it was just this entire scenario I’d been shoved into. “How’d you even get my number anyway?” 

I hadn’t meant for it to sound so forceful or abrupt, but it had been yet another question my sluggish brain hadn’t been able to find an answer to. 

“Mila?” He answered me, and I blinked stupidly at the name. “We had a mutual contact, figured I’d chance askin’ her instead of gettin’ lost in your DM’s. That cool? She said she’d let you know.”

The conniving cow, I thought to myself, though I wouldn’t have put it past her to have reasoned with herself that I would’ve probably freaked out if she had told me beforehand, before then having proceeded to just let my phone ring out whilst I stared pitifully at it. She knew me all too well. 

“She did not.” I replied through a baited breath, “But no, yeah. You’re alright, just caught me off guard is all. You’re probably the last person I expected to call, if I’m being honest here..”

When I heard him laugh once more I grinned, all too pleased with myself. It was a low gruff sound, not deep enough to be sarcastic or ingenuine, but rather warm. It surprised me.

“Oh yeah? Even after everything that’s gone down lately?”

My eyes slipped closed at the instantaneous reminder and I winced. The video. Honestly, in the whirlwind that wasn’t just my life at the moment, but this phone call too, I could have almost forgotten about it.

“I still can’t believe you saw that.”

Marshall let go of another amused huff that I figured to be a chuckle, breathing in deep enough that he forced me to wait on his next words. “I don’t lie. I meant what I said. But tell me, how many drinks d’you have in you?”

I curled my tongue against the back of my teeth in hopes to keep from grinning too hard, feeling a slight sting at the tip. “I was tipsy.” I argued pointlessly, knowing it would be a tireless venture, “I’d only had a couple.”

He hummed, seemingly not convinced.

“It was years ago, too!” I felt the need to tack on, the rosy hue the alcohol had given my cheeks sprung to mind and made me wonder. My face wrinkled as I dragged a helpless hand across it. “Who even sent it to you?”

“A couple people, actually.” Marshall ended up revealing and his words sounded playful enough that I could almost picture the curl of his mouth. “My daughter was one.”

Without thinking my hand flew up towards my mouth and I shook my head as I let it rest against my palm. “You’re not being serious.”

“Dre too.”

I let go of a hissed curse and crumpled a little bit in my seat before laughing stupidly at myself. If I couldn’t talk myself out of this then I supposed I would just have to get over it. I hoped thinking sensibly would allow me to actually follow through on that sentiment, but I very much doubted it.

Marshall laughed again, slow and easy almost as though he’d shared it with me a hundred times before. “I wasn’t kiddin’ neither. ’s why I called.”

Pulling my head from out of my hands, I wet my lower lip, mind promptly flashing back to the clip Lottie had shown me. “What’s that meant to mean?” I asked him, treading cautiously. 

“Listen.” He began, pausing only briefly to inhale before he then added, “I’m workin’ on another album–”

“No.” I interrupted, eyes suddenly wide and alert, “Already?”

A tittered snort followed the disruption but my mind was already reeling. 

“You’re not fucking with me?”

In all honesty I had prepared myself to wait a couple more years for another drop, hoping for him to feature or for someone to send for him if only so that he’d make a track in reply. I’d been obsessed with his recent work, even going as far as to add it onto the tour bus playlist late last year. It had actually been played so much the roadies and the band had threatened to rip the system out. But a new album? Fuck. I hadn’t expected it.

“Who else knows?”

There was a slight click on the other side of the line. Or scuffle. “As of right now? Like six people.”

I swallowed down the understanding that then hit me, but my stomach lurched at the very thought of it. “And I’m one?” I chuckled, holding back the hysterical laughter I felt bubble as my hand fell over my heart, “Wow, I feel honoured, Mathers.” It was teasing, the rib I meant, though my eyes still widened when I realised what I’d gone and said, not wanting him to take it the wrong way. 

I needn’t have worried. 

“As you fuckin’ should be.”

I gave a real laugh at that, almost a full-belly type shit. But could you really blame me? 

I was still smiling as I went to retort, humming with it, “God, you really just went and sprung that shit on me.”

“Hold you to keepin’ it on the low for now.” Marshall said, reminding me how paranoid the press and Hollywood had made him out to be in the past. I wondered how much truth there was in the sentiment. I mean, the man was almost a recluse– not that I could blame him, I was pulled from the same sort of cloth there– but to put a secret like that in my hands? It had to take some amount of faith.

I nodded seriously, even though he couldn’t see the gesture. Seemed he could hear the sincerity in my answer though, “‘Course.” I told him and then chewed on my lower lip for a second before a soft snicker escaped me. “That the only reason you called though? I mean, as honoured as I am to be one of the infamous six, I’m surprised you just phoned to let me in on the know. Have I just been roped into some sort of celeb elitist group? Weird initiation.”

His huffed laugh was breathy and made my mouth twitch that little bit more. 

“Nah. You always this weird though?” Marshall wondered and I bared my teeth in a light grimace, figuring I’d gone too far with that one. Or maybe.. I'd just hit the mark? I snorted lightly at the thought.

“It was an honest question! I’ve heard horror stories.” And wasn’t that the truth, events and parties weren’t all about the awards and just getting trollied. Some of those fuckers were as strange as people could come.

The man clucked his tongue, although I could hear the slight smile in his sarky response. “Uhuh. Sorry to disappoint but nah, initiation starts in the belly of LA. Gotta dissect a virgin and drink Ciroc out of their intestines. Funnel that shit down.”

The snort I gave in turn was ugly and loud enough that it forced a hand to fly up and cover my mouth, but it didn’t appear to bother the rapper none, who chuckled before clearing his throat.

“Change this shit to Facetime.” He said not a second after, swiftly cutting short my absurd amusement. “Then we can talk about the album.”

I fumbled for a moment. “I look a mess.”

“Good thing this ain’t a fuckin’ fashion show then.” He only pressed, “You think I give a shit what you look like right now?”

That struck an odd chord in me for some reason, but I didn’t want to linger much on the feeling. “No. But I do, dickhead. It’s half eight at night, I have sudocrem on my face and I look like a dog off of Lady and the Tramp.”

I was so flustered by the very thought of acquiescing to the man’s demand that I didn’t even think much of the name I’d gone and called him. 

“Again, do I give a shit? And what did you just call me?”

I paused, reeling back to whatever it was I’d just spouted at him. Upon rehashing my words I felt my tongue press between my lips to keep from laughing loudly, if Mila or Lottie had been there I’d already be strung up by a pair of metaphorical balls. 

“You heard me fine.” I brushed it off, if he wanted to call me out of the blue and act all chummy then chummy was what he’d get.

Besides it wasn’t like I’d meant the term maliciously, I used that type of endearment with everybody. Something my manager had tried and failed to force out of me time and time again.

“But back to this whole ‘seeing my mug thing’. Not happening, mate. Why couldn’t you have called like, six hours ago? I looked like an actual person then.”

“Dickhead.” He muttered beneath his breath, barely even loud enough for me to have heard him and I could only guess that he was shaking his head with it, hopefully somewhat amused. “You ain’t an actual person then?” He said in reply, forgoing the name calling for now, “Figures, you give off lizard vibes.”

“Fuck you!” My laugh was sudden, jaw having dropped a tad at the quip. “Lizard vibes, the fuck are you then? And yes, an actual person! You can’t just call people, drop a bomb, and then demand things!”

“Shit typically works.” He quipped all too quickly that it had me shaking my head around another quiet smile of my own. “Just entertain me though, for a moment.”

My head fell back against the arm of the sofa, eyes casted towards the high ceiling which loomed above. I couldn’t quite believe I was actually considering it.

He didn’t even have to goad me before I relented. I huffed, blowing a strand of hair from out of my face as I sat back up, “Fine. Just gimme a sec.” 

He hummed.

Elbowing my way off the settee I skidded over to the closest mirror, dragged a hand through my mostly dried hair and made sure that I didn’t have racoon eyes from any lingering mascara I’d had on before my shower. The patches of sudocrem would have to stay though, I deemed, seeing as he already knew about those. 

I gave up on the preening and sighed as I fell back onto the sofa, thankful for the dim lights the living room offered in that moment. It was just as I was switching the call though that a thought hit me, making me question if the reason he’d asked me to start the Facetime was due to him wanting to give me the option to turn it down or simply because he had no idea how to do it himself. “Still there, old man?”

A scoff echoed into the room before my phone screen stuttered and I was left staring at the sharp lines of his face. It wasn’t like I hadn’t actually believed it was him I was talking to, but seeing the man was another thing altogether. He was a real person and that idea alone had me reeling. 

I wrinkled my nose almost shyly around a smile when that sharp gaze of his slid away from something behind the camera to meet mine. He tilted his head to look me over, the hood of his jumper moving with the motion. 

“I was right about the lizard thing.” Was the only greeting he offered me, jutting his chin out as he feigned all seriousness. 

My mouth dropped open upon hearing him and my tongue quickly flicked out towards a canine to keep from biting back at him. There was humour written in the gesture though, even as I moved to narrow my eyes. “He’s got jokes! Reused ones, I might add, but jokes nonetheless.” I snarked, lifting my eyebrows at him in exaggeration, “Hilarious.”

His mouth curled very, very briefly, but I was quick to work out that it was all in the eyes with him. They held a certain amount of mirth as they flickered over my face. I wondered what he saw. 

“Suits you though. Even with all the…” He waved a hand over his own face, probably referencing the white dots I had littered in a few places.

With a shake of my head I raised a hand to my chest, feigning a fond appreciation for the sardonic comment. “Is that the famous charm the world’s heard so much about then? Really know how to make a girl feel special, Mathers.”

His eyes slitted but still shone with a slight glaze, he hummed deeply in retort. “Best believe it. Why d’you think I’ve gotten divorced twice?”

A low whistle escaped me before I then laughed, eyes squinting with the strength of it. “Figured you might just have a kink for courtrooms.” 

His tongue swept into his cheek at my boldness, fighting back a real smile as he glanced away and then back again. “I’m down bad for a good Judge. Spank me vibes, you know?”

I chuckled outwardly at that, amused by his quick witted replies. But that in itself didn’t surprise me, it was well known just how hilarious the man could be, his stoic demeanour only prodding that revelation further. 

That sternness his face seemed to consistently hold softened though in that next moment and I watched on as he shuffled a little closer to the camera, sat somewhere indoors with enough natural light that he could have only been in his kitchen. It hit me then how wild this whole thing suddenly was. “What’s with the last name anyway?”

I blinked, caught off guard by his ask. “Um,” I fumbled, a slight wrinkle forming between my brow, “What do you mean, me calling you Mathers?”

He hummed and I had to think about it for a second. Ultimately I ended up gifting him a shrug, “Don’t know. Just feels strange to call you Eminem or whatever.” I laughed lightly at myself, hand falling to my knee to toy with a loose thread on the hem of my robe. “What do people usually call you?”

It was his turn to shrug then, his being a singular and fluid motion whereas mine had been more thoughtless. He was watching again though, the wide eyes I was so used to seeing in old interviews where he was always playing a part were now gentler, narrowed sure, but softer and slightly wrinkled at the very edges.

I tugged on the frayed thread, wrapping it around my finger enough to whiten the skin before I had to let it go again. “Is Em okay? Or just Marshall maybe?” I queried, watching him too.

“Whatever you want.” He murmured and it was then that I noticed he’d propped his phone up somewhere in front of him because a pair of hands came to rest at the bottom of the screen just as he pressed further into the counter he was sat at.

I wrung my lips to one side, teeth biting into the inside of my cheek enough to keep from smiling much more than I already was. “Most people call me El or Lia. Elia just started to feel unnatural away from, you know, everyone else.”

It was the worlds now, as well as one of few reasons I had for the stigma I felt around my own name. 

The man jerked his head in a short nod in response whilst his fingers intertwined against a marble countertop. “So we should just slide that into the writin’ credits then? Or you finally gone take me up on that offer of a feature?”

You know that odd feeling you get when you’re on the tube or a plane and so suddenly your ears just pop and there's this ringing sound that floods the single sense? It just happens, out of nowhere, and you blink. So all you can immediately focus on is the sound. The odd feeling of it driving waves deeper and deeper into your skull. And the only way you can recover is by holding your own breath?

That was what that question felt like to me. 

“What?”

His eyes were alight, akin to a low flame of flickering amusement and perhaps hope. “You deaf now too? Know you heard me.”

Of course I fucking heard him but that didn’t mean I understood. “This is for real?”

Finally, he let go of a dulcet chuckle, almost a ringing sound in and of itself. “You gone make me repeat it? You in, or not?”

“How is that even a question?” I breathed back to him, my hand shaking against the hem of my robe. “Yes! God, if I ever say to no to an ask like that you better fucking shoot me. What the fuck, Marshall?”

That chuckle again.

It was unlike anything else, the only sound I could hear around the blood rushing between my ears. Stupidly, I pinched my thigh and released a stuttered breath when the twist of skin radiated a short snap of pain up my leg.

“That the go ahead then?”

I must’ve looked so incredibly starstruck but I couldn’t even bring myself to care, this was unreal. I nodded, almost frantically at him. “Of course that’s the fucking go ahead! Are you sure about this? I mean, I don’t know how much help I’ll be. I mostly write radio shit.”

“Your earlier stuff ain’t.” Em shot back, the quip startling me enough to snap my jaw shut because not a lot of people ever dug that deep. But he continued on before I could think to hone in on the slip, “‘sides, your lyrics are what I fuck with. That shit makes you think, has you lingerin’. Playing with words is the aim, I want people thinkin’, leachin’ onto each syllable and every phrase. You do that.”

The air in my lungs lurched.

I could only offer him one reply, “When do we start?”

[runningfrom2am]

the wedding // LTPF

summary: the wedding of the year, i can see it now.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.7k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. she's a bridezilla for REAL and i wish i included more of that energy, protective!coryo, idk people are drinking alcohol? (its a wedding, so duh), also TW for Livia and r's dad just existing p much.

based on this ask and this ask!

series masterlist // playlist

Everything was perfect. Absolutely everything you had dreamt of your whole life when it came to your wedding. Coryo had told you money was no object, and therefore, you spared no expense. You had a strong theory that your father was being sent every last bill, since you knew neither of you had anything more than what the Plinth's were providing for school, but that was the farthest thing from your problem. It was the least your father could do.

The hardest part of the whole thing, even before deciding who would give you away without your father, was deciding on your maid of honour. You didn't have many good friends, or friends at all, outside of your new husband. At one point, you wondered if had things gone differently, would you have chosen Lucy Gray?

Clemensia Dovecote was a fine enough choice. "Let me just say," Her speech began, hitting the side of her overfilled wine glass with a fork. "I have called this wedding for years, and no one believed me." She shot a smile over to you at the head table. "For anyone who doesn't know me, I'm Clemensia. Y/N's Maid of Honour." She had just thrived on the title since you offered it to her which, while annoying, was good because she took her position very seriously. She was the perfect choice- she looked nice, presentable in a dress you had picked out, but the colour clashed with the yellow in the whites of her eyes and the few scales that were yet to fall off after the snake bite. She looked fine, but she also made you look better. "But like I said, I knew this would happen."

She was drunk, repeating things in a way that made you cringe internally but nevertheless, you had to watch. The lights spread across the large backyard of the Plinth's mansion lit up the night beautifully, bouncing off every white and red rose you had spread about. You were very grateful to them for allowing you to host the reception there. They had done a lot for you in the last year since you returned from Twelve.

Mrs. Plinth was very involved with planning the wedding- she loved the winter wedding and leaning into it as a theme. It worked out nicely because it gave her something to think about other than the death of her only child, and she was a tremendous help and support to you. You were truly grateful, but this day was hard on them without Sejanus there. She had mentioned on more than one occasion that Sejanus would have been the best man, and you only slightly doubted that. You wouldn't want it to be anyone else- but Coryo would have had different thoughts, you're sure.

"How much longer will this go on for?" Your now husband whispers in your ear, fake smile on his face as he also has to listen to Clem's rambling.

"I really don't know." You reply with the same fake smile, knowing that eyes were on you just as much as her.

"Some choice for a maid of honour." He chuckles.

You roll your eyes, a playful smile on your lips. "Oh, well, I would have gone with Arachne Crane but, you know..."

"Fair enough." He mumbles, sitting back in his seat. "Are you really the only woman in the Capitol who isn't insufferably annoying? You should have been your own maid of honour."

"Well it was her or Tigris, and Tigris is prettier than me so she wasn't really an option." You hum, grabbing his hand under the table as you keep your eyes focussed on Clemensia, not paying attention to a word she says.

Coryo laughs. "Tigris is not prettier than you."

"She's your cousin, your opinion is invalid." You shrug it off.

"Doesn't change the fact that I'm right." He argues, squeezing your hand.

You don't reply, and you let his hand go to clap once Clem is finally finished. You had already eaten, so now it was supposed to be the "fun part", as Clemensia so aptly put it in her speech. You found it rude, yes, but it wasn't a big deal and after tonight you wouldn't have to see her again for a while.

It was brisk out, being a winter wedding you should have expected that, but you still had another dress to change into so you excuse yourself from the table, kissing your husband goodbye as he gets up as well.

You hadn't allowed him to see any of your dresses, and this would be your third one today alone. He loved every one, and did not expect to be disappointed by the next. Or the one after that.

"Hey, congrats, Coriolanus." He tears his gaze away from your retreating figure to whoever was talking to him.

"Thank you, Hilarius." He nods, smiling politely at him and reaching out to shake his hand.

"I saw this one coming miles away." His classmate laughs. "You remember that though, right?"

"When you said that if I wasn't going to go after her you would?" Coryo asks, eyebrow raised. "I do remember that. It makes me wonder who let you in..." It's meant as a joke as he makes a point of looking past him toward the security they have at the entrance.

He furrows his brow when his eyes catch on your father standing there, arguing with one of the security guards, his wife by his side.

"If you would excuse me..." He says, walking toward them before Hilarius could even respond.

"Ugh, I know. Why did you even invite her, Y/N/N?" Clemensia complains as Tigris helps you step out of your gown.

"Who?" You ask, unsure what she was even talking about.

"Livia." She states, yet another glass of red wine in her hand.

"Oh, I kind of had to. Connections and all that." You shrug. You weren't Livia's biggest fan, she had a "greater than thou" attitude that drove you up the wall, but who in this city didn't?

"Ah, yes. Of course." She hums. "She had a lot of audacity to show up in that dress though..."

Your head whips around to look at her. "What dress?"

"You haven't seen her?" She gasps. "I thought you saw her! It's this white-based floral, really questionable for someone else's wedding. Looks like a tablecloth." She accentuates the statement with a sip from her glass.

Your jaw ticks and you look toward the door, already seeing red.

"Hey, Y/N, it's okay." Tigris rests her hands on your shoulders, prompting you to look at her. "We'll tell security, they can escort her out if that's what you want."

You take a breath, forcing a smile on your face. "Let's not bother them. I'll just go chat with her." You smile, stepping out of the dress in bare feet, quickly grabbing Clemensia's overfilled wine glass from her hand on your way out the door.

"Y/N, Wait! Don't!" Tigris calls after you, well aware of your notorious temper by now, but you don't listen.

You're in your white slip when you storm back out to the reception area through the back patio, immediately and quickly scanning the crowd for the guest in question. You know you have seconds before Tigris likely tries to stop you, but you know Clemensia won't. Then, you see her.

You're seething already. That's practically a wedding dress on its own. You would kill her.

You stomp across the ground, tunnel vision locked on her as she raises her glass to her lips, laughing, and talking with other guests, completely careless to what she had done wrong. Well, she would learn today.

"Livia Cardew!" You grin, walking up to her. "I don't recall sending you an invitation, but here you are!"

Immediately, she's taking in your appearance, giggling at your lack of appropriate attire and shoes. "Y/N! Congratulations." She says, eyes finally locking with yours again.

"May I have a word?" You ask, already grabbing her arm and pulling her away.

"Is there a problem here?" Coriolanus asks, addressing only his security as your father stands there, red-faced with anger.

"Yeah, they've got no invite." He nods, showing Coryo the list in his hands which he quickly pretends to look over.

"Oh! Sorry, yes. There you are..." He says, pointing down at the bottom and your father visibly relaxes. "Under the title there that says 'not welcome under any circumstances'... Well then." He looks at your father now for the first time, tilting his head at him.

"No, this is my daughter's wedding and we will be let in!" He demands, raising his voice.

Coryo clicks his tongue, slightly shaking his head. "No, sir, I thought we were clear on this."

"No, you said the wedding. This, if I'm not mistaken, is the reception. I made my sacrifice. Now, I'm here."

"And only about two hours late." Coryo hums uninterestedly, looking down at his watch. "Father of the year."

Your father's fuming, and it's hard for Coryo to not laugh in his face. "I paid for everything here! You can't deny us entry!"

"I can." Coryo says. "Well, actually, my apologies. Mrs. Y/L/N, you are welcome to come in, if you'd like." He smiles at her, polite demeanour flicked back on like a light switch.

Your father quickly pulls her back behind him. "It's both of us or neither of us. Go ask our daughter." He states, gripping tightly on her arm.

"Oh, no. I won't be ruining our wedding." Coryo shakes his head, firm in his decision. "I'll tell Y/N you send your love, Ma'am. Have a good night."

"No! You will let us in right now or-" Your father's tantrum is interrupted by a commotion across the yard, drawing Coryo's attention. People gasp in shock, and then he sees you, about to absolutely lay into Livia Cardew, who now has red wine all over her face and the front of her dress.

"I must be going, now." Coryo tells them, turning back to the security guard and adjusting the cuffs of his shirt to be able to roll up his sleeves. "If you don't mind, call for peacekeepers to escort him from the property. Thank you."

He doesn't have time to hear your father's angry disagreement as he walks away.

"So," You drop her arm, turning to face her. "I'm not sure if you are aware, but this isn't your wedding." You spit, gesturing to her dress. "And listen, I get it! You're jealous. That's fine, but it's extremely tacky and honestly embarrassing for you to wear a white dress to a wedding that's not yours."

Livia's lips fall open in shock, looking down at her dress before she laughs. "Y/N, come on. It really isn't that serious, you realize that, right?"

You stare at her for a moment, weighing your options. You could smash the glass over her head like you wanted to, demand that she leave immediately, or, you could 'accidentally' spill the glass on her. Before you complete the thought, you're throwing the contents of Clemensia's glass at the front of her dress, smiling as it splatters up over her face and in her hair, dripping down the front of her expensive-looking gown.

"Oops."

Livia gasps, wiping the red substance from around her eyes and flicking it off. "I thought that for one day you could be normal! God, you are vile!" She's practically screaming now.

"This is entirely your fault, you do realize that, right?" You tilt your head at her, a slight laugh under your tone. "If you wanted my husband just say that."

"I- ugh!" She groans in frustration and anger, swiping her hands over the liquid on her chest and flicking it all at you, staining the perfectly white satin of your slip. You look down at it, and then back at her. You were about to go through the roof.

The amount of people watching in the immediate vicinity is the only thing keeping you from grabbing her hair and shoving her head into the dirt. You decide to scream instead.

It turns into more of a wail, pumping angry tears into fake sad ones. Coryo is there in a second. "Darling, what's happened?" He asks, horrified as he looks between the two of you, grabbing your shoulders.

"I-" You sniff, pointing to the girl in front of you. "I just came to offer her something to change into because that is out of dress code and I tripped and-" You hiccup as he's rubbing up and down your bare arms. "It was an accident, and then she... It was just an accident! Now my dress is ruined and, and-"

He turns his gaze to Livia who just looks pissed while you ramble on about having had a little too much to drink, that was all. He's sure that's not what happened, he knows his wife better than that, but this show was not for him. He looks her up and down, visibly disgusted by her choice of dress. It honestly looks better now.

"Coriolanus that's not-" She chuckles with the shock of the accusation, shaking her head as she pleads with him.

"It's time for you to go." He tells her, looking toward a member of security who's not busy with your father, quickly waving him over.

Livia looks at the approaching security man in shock. "I didn't do anything!"

"That dress and causing a scene over it is more than enough." He states, wrapping an arm around your waist and wiping your tears from your cheeks. "Let's get you some water, Darling. It's okay..."

"It's not!" You cry, gesturing to the few small drops of wine on the front of your dress. "It's ruined! She ruined everything!"

Just as she's about to be escorted out, you make eye contact with her, offering a smug smile. She scoffs, which earns her a grab on the arm and a more forceful expulsion from the reception.

"Y/N!" Tigris is rushing across the lawn toward you, careful not to stumble in her shoes and bridesmaids' dress. "What happened?" She asks, addressing her cousin now.

"She's okay, there was just an accident with a glass of wine. We're just going to take a few minutes. I'll help her change." He explains to her.

She nods, looking worriedly down at the small stains in your dress. "I should be able to get this out, alright?" She assures you, rubbing a clean spot of the fabric between her fingers to make sure.

"Okay, thank you." You sniff, leaning into your husband's side as he guides you back up to the house.

You get inside and upstairs to what has become your dressing room and secondary bedroom over the last year. As soon as he shuts the door behind you, you can't hold your laughter back anymore. You're practically doubled over with it, and immediately Coryo understands. He chuckles, shaking his head at you.

"What a show..." He grins fondly, pulling you into a hug which you happily return.

"Oh, you liked it?" You giggle, coming down from your laughing fit.

"It was wonderful." He agrees, kissing the top of your head. "For a moment I was worried about you."

"Aw, really?" You look up at him, jutting your lip out in a pout.

"Definitely." He hums, kissing you softly. "Now come on, let's get you changed, huh?"

"Please." You nod, kissing him again before pulling back to pull your next dress from the closet. "I was supposed to wear this underneath, but now I can't." You sigh, hanging the full dress on the door before pulling the wine-stained one over your head.

"Just that will do, I suppose." Coryo mumbles, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind as you toss the slip onto the ground.

"Oh, you suppose, do you?" You chuckle, reaching up to pull the new dress from its hanger.

"Mhm." He nods, planting a kiss in the crook of your neck. "Makes my job easier later."

You laugh, blush spreading over your cheeks and flushing your chest while you unzip the back. You carefully balance as you step into the opening in the fabric, pulling it up around your waist.

"Don't rush, Darling. It will probably take you a while to recover before we can return to the party." He says, watching you adjust the skirt before you plan on zipping it up.

"Good point." You agree, but make no effort to stop until Coryo places his hand over yours.

"What should we do with all this time we have to kill, hm?" He's already leaning down to kiss over the back of your neck.

"I feel like you have an idea..." You mumble, tilting your head to adjust to his presence.

"Have I told you how much I love you?" He asks as he gently pushes the fabric back down to drop in a pool around your ankles.

"You may have mentioned it..." You turn under his palms as they land on your lower back, gently pulling you closer. "And I love you too. More than you could ever imagine, Coryo."

taglist: @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @klplynn , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @gloryekaterina , @andrewgarfieldsbitch , @queenofspades6 , @pepperonipastas , @ladybug0095 , @lunamothwrites , @sbrewer21 , @mus-tbe-a-weasley , @splxtscreen , @unclecrunkle , @karmaswitch , @coconut-dreamz , @nekee-lilac02 , @ooooglymoooogly , @riddlerloveb0t , @lovedbalances , @notyourwildestdream , @snowlandson-top , @too-lit-for-fanfic , @utopiakys , @deafeningballoonnacho , @roosterschanelslut , @chmpgneprblem , @cosmoetik , , @urvampgfsworld , @carolanns-world@nan-nie , @shakespearseclipse , @iovemoonyy , @notyoursweetheart-honey ,  @xyzstar , @eatpizzasass, @slytherinholland , @queenofshinigamis , @elodiebeau , @soulessjourney

[kayhi808]

hi again heh it’s me. pls lmk if i’m asking too much/too many things.

it’s mother’s day and abby wants to surprise reader with breakfast in bed so she kind of plans it with bucky as a secret and they like giggle around reader etc and reader is confused but trust to know they are both safe. after one exhausting day at work reader comes home and immediately knocks out so it’s j buck and abby prepping everything for the next day and abby is painting pictures while buck is perfecting a small cake BUT THEN abby gets a paper cut and starts crying so reader shoots up stumbles in and see her baby crying rushing to her completely missing the decorations and shit( cus yk exhausted) then once reader realizes she breaks down in tears herself cus she just loves them both.🧹

Thank you for a sweet Ask! I just realized that these Asks are not in any chronological order. I haven't quite figured that out their relationship timeline. I was like, "Can Abby call him Papa in this Ask?" I just let her because it's cuter.🤭

While you're in the shower, Bucky and Abby plan how to surprise you for Mother's Day. "So, what should we do for Mama on Mother's Day?"

"I mades a card at scoon. It so pretty!"

"I don't doubt it, I'm sure it's very pretty. But how about something from me & you? We can do something for Mama, too."

Gasping, "Oooh! I wike it! Okies!" Abby claps.

"Maybe we can make Mama breakfast in bed?"

"Oh no! Mama no wikes. She gets so mads with crumbs in the bed. Eating in beds is a no-no."

Bucky laughs, "Oh, ok. Maybe not that. We don't want her mad. We can make her breakfast out here and we can decorate."

"Yes!!"

You walk down the hallway, "Yes, what?"

"Mama, we..." Bucky covers Abby's mouth with his hand and he smiles at you. He suddenly pulls back his hand staring down at Abby, "Did you just lick me?!"

You laugh & Abby cackles, "She does that. What are you two up to?"

"Nothing." Bucky trying to look innocent but Abby looks like she dying to say something.

"Abigail? Is there something you want to tell me?" Abby desperately looks at Bucky for help.

"C'mon, don't do that to her. That's not fair." Bucky wraps Abby in his arms, pulling her back against him.

"Fine, keep your little secrets."

*****

The past 48 hours have been so hectic! A mission had gone sideways and Fury kept you at the Tower until the early morning hours. They had lost contact with a team & a 2nd team needed to be deployed. You weren't able to go home until the wee hours of the morning. Luckily, Bucky was on neither team, so he was able to stay with Abby.

"Sleep, doll," kissing your temple & getting out of bed, "I got Abby." You mumble a thank you & roll over back to sleep.

Bucky had outlined "Happy Mother's Day" on card stock and gave it to Abby to color in while he got things together. It started to look really cute. They had streamers tied to the dining room chairs. Bucky had picked up a bunch of fresh flowers so there were arrangements on the dining table and coffee table. He was starting to feel real good about pulling this off without a hitch.

******

You're woken out of your sleep by Abby letting out a scream and starts crying. You jump out of bed, "Abby? Abigail??" She doesn't answer, but you still hear crying. You run down the hall, quickly glancing in her room, but it's empty.

"Mama!!" You see Bucky carrying her, holding Abby's hand under the faucet. "Mama!"

"Abby!"

"It's ok. She's alright. It's just a bad paper cut."

"I's NOT alright! See's all the blood??"

Bucky presses a paper towel in her hand, "Hold this tight." He transfers Abby into your arm as you sink to the kitchen floor, with Abby cuddled in you lap. Bucky grabs the first aid kit from the cupboard.

"Let, Mama, see." You take her hand in yours and across her palm there is a thick slice. "How'd you get this?"

Bucky takes her little hand is his and starts dressing her cut with Neosporin and gauze. "She was coloring the sign I made on cardstock." You cringe imagining getting sliced by cardstock. Which explains why the slice was so thick.

"I runned-ed my hand on top and I got owiees." Abby wipes tears from her cheeks. "And now i's made the sign ugly and the s'prise is junk now. I sowwy."

"Hey, it's not junk." Bucky tilts Abby's chin up. "Don't be sorry."

"What surprise?" You start looking around and you notice all the decorations and flowers.

"We wanted to do something nice for you, for Mother's Day, Doll." Bucky helps you stand with Abby in your arms. You were so exhausted and focused on getting to Abby, you didn't notice all the decorations earlier.

You whisper, "You did this all for me?"

"You still s'prise??" Abby does a happy wiggle in your arms.

You squeeze Abby tight & kiss her forehead, but you meet Bucky's gaze, "This is the best Mother's Day I've ever had. Thank you."

"You melcome, Mama!!"

You sit on the couch with Abby on your lap & Bucky by your side. "I think you forgot to bring out Mama's presents."

"Oh, yeah!! Don't move Mama. Stays right here." You hear the slap of her feet running down the hallway.

You lean into Bucky, "This was so sweet of you. Thank you so much."

"You deserve it. You're an amazing mother to Abigail." He wipes your tears away, but not before Abby sees it.

"Mama?? Why cry? You don't wikes..."

"No. No. No. These are happy tears, baby. You and Bucky make me feel like the best Mama in the world!"

Abby climbs back into your lap, "Cos you is!" She squishes your face between her palms. "No cries." She gives you a loud kiss on the cheek.

You gush over the Mother's Day card she made at school. And then she gives you a little gift box. "More? What is this?"

Abby goes to Bucky, hopping up and down, "Me and Papa picks it out!"

You open it and it a beautiful vintage style locket. "It's beautiful."

"You loves it?? It's a rocket!!"

You laugh, "Locket, not rocket."

"Oh." She leans up against Bucky, embarrassed. He drops a kiss on her head. "Look inside, Mama!"

You open it and there's a picture of Abby from the Fair at the compound. That was such a magical day. "I love it, Abby! Thank you so much!" She throws herself into your arms for kisses. "Why did you leave the other side empty?"

A little blush tinges Bucky's cheeks, "I didn't want to assume..." You pull him in for a kiss.

"You belong there. You and Abby make me complete. I love you."

His blush deepens and he gives you a boyish smile. "Lemme start breakfast. It'll be quick." He goes to the kitchen, while you & Abby scroll through your phone looking for a photo of Bucky to place in your new locket.

@waywardhunter95 @wintrsoldrluvr @rebeccapineapple @ordelixx @onceithough @thezombieprostitute @ilovetaquitosmmmm @julvrs @unaxv @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @winterslove1917 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @mrsnikstan @hisredheadedgoddess28 @itsteambarnes @otterlycanadian @purplecolordeer @samsgirl93 @jvanilly @buckitostan @littleredwolf @mcucatlady @silas-aeiou @hzdhrtss @florie1 @thecubanator2 @enchantedbarnes @selella @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @cjand10 @pancake-05 @ozwriterchick @crazyunsexycool @baw1066 @nommingonfood

[wisteriaiswriting]

Hello! May I request for Sova, Iso, Gekko, Jett, cypher, and Reyna reacting to a reader who absolutely loves sour things? For example she eats lemons like oranges in a daily basis and eats super sour candy like it's nothing

𝔼𝕒𝕤𝕪 ℙ𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕪 𝕃𝕖𝕞𝕠𝕟 𝕊𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕖𝕫𝕪

Words: 864

He’ll search around for any type of sour recipes, to either make them himself or find someone else if he has a lack of time.

Most of the time he’ll try the food, whether or not he actually likes them (I imagine him as a spicer type.) you’ll be able to have the majority.

He’ll search around for any type of sour recipes, to either make them himself or find someone else if he has a lack of time.

Most of the time he’ll try the food, whether or not he actually likes them (I imagine him as a spicer type.) you’ll be able to have the majority.

***

Hours ago he left, and the only answer you got when asked was ‘Market.’ It seemed he was planning something as he would normally tell you, and even ask if you would accompany him.

This time though you were left in the dark until he returned. Which luckily wasn’t too long ago, now you had to endure him removing you from the kitchen for who knows how long. First he leaves you then bans you from your own house? What was he up to?

Well luck seemed to be on your side today as he was quick to call for you. Returning to see a bunch of packets on the counter, a closer inspection only showed Russian writing on them. Even with the images you had no clue.

“Y/N, I believe you’ve been asking about my homelands candy?”

Oh…

Majority of the time he just… doesn’t notice the amount of sour stuff you eat.

The only items he notices are the wrappers, fruits and other foods, although he won’t question you about it.

***

Recently Iso had started noticing a few things. Such as candy wrappers, especially sour candy. The fruit bowls had more lemons and other citrus fruits then the normal ones, the pantry was similar.

It wasn’t weird though, he had his preferences and you had yours. It just seemed to be sour food. While he wouldn’t eat it much if you enjoyed it he wouldn’t complain.

He’s learnt to handle anything but sour growing up.

If you eat anything sour in his sight he will openly cringe, might say something as well.

***

Gekko was bored. Everyone else was either on a mission or just too busy to deal with him, except you. He found you in the kitchen, eating what he assumed were grapes, from a bowl.

“Mateo, what some?” You held your hand out, which held the fruits. Ones he took gracefully. The sweet flavour never showed, instead covered by immediate sourness. Causing him to spit them out.

“What was that?”

“Hmm?”

“Those!” He pointed at the mess.

“Oh, they’re Gooseberries.”

She's cooked and tasted more than her fair share of sour food, so she’s learnt how to handle it.

Is aware not many people can handle sour well, but that won’t stop her from teasing anyone.

***

It was Jett’s turn to make dinner, and this time she made Tungsuyuk. She’s grown so used to cooking for the both of you she honestly forgot how others couldn’t handle the sourness of it.

But she also made yours special, able to give you a larger portion. Even then the others couldn’t handle it.

“Jett! What did you put in this?”

“C’mon Neon, I thought you could handle this?” Turns out she couldn’t, watching the group either give up or drink more water.

Due to his connections and access, if there's something you want he’ll be able to get it, the only problem is if he will.

He is kinda a picky eater, also much prefers spice over sour. So he won’t try many, only a select few me might enjoy.

***

The mission brief had just finished, and unluckily for you Cypher managed to scurry off from you. So until he came back around you’d have to either entertain yourself or find someone, but it seems he thought of that already.

As a decently sized box sat on your bed, seemingly just delivered as all the agents were in the meeting. And on top sat a note.

‘My Dear,

Hopefully these are to your liking, I’ll be waiting for your answer.

Love, Amir.’

And you guessed it, the box was full of sour Moroccan snacks and foods. Knowing he’ll be ready to order them and more.

This woman is not fazed, as she’s seen worse things. But will look at you like you asked the dumbest question ever if she sees you eating a lemon, at all.

From her experience souls taste… different to say. And a good few are weirdly sour, so she isn’t too put off by their flavour and sensation.

***

The day was just another, this one neither you or Reyna were to be sent on missions. So you spent it hanging around with others, while she was training. When she finally finished she started walking back to her room, passing you and Gekko in the living area.

A quick glance had her brain assuming you held an orange, nothing out of the ordinary. Until Gekko spoke up.

“Ew dude, why would you- stay away!”

At first she was alarmed until she remembered who you two were. Slowly stepping back to see you holding out the orange- wait no, that's not an orange. You were holding a lemon, one that currently had a bite mark.

At the realization she could only stare at you, turning into a glare when you made eye contact.

“Want some?”

[alchemistc]

Just thinking about Buck internalizing 'i don't think you're ready'. Thinking about him running back over his 'I'm an ally' speech and cringing because God, WHY did he say that, why couldn't he have just been cool.

Thinking about him actually sitting in it, and thinking about why the interruption from Eddie made him Act Like That. There's obviously the newness, the discomfort, the fact that Buck hasn't really had a chance to explore much of "Oh, I am attracted to men." yet. He was so busy with nerves and he wanted more time and then there was Eddie, who knows (probably too much) about Buck's dating history and he Hasn't Told Eddie about this. He hasn't had a chance to wrap his own mind around it yet.

Buck usually goes to three people: Maddie, Eddie, Bobby.

And he hasn't talked to any of them. And he's stewing, trying to figure out WHY, because he's always been supportive, so why should he feel any different when he's on the other side of it.

He goes to Maddie and pushes his "I've always supported the gays" agenda AGAIN and Maddie has to parse the details, gently shove Buck in the right direction - well, if you're MORE than an ally now, that could be something that is preventing you from telling your best friend the truth, let's explore that some more.

It takes him two tries with Eddie, and maybe it's the setting (why would you think it was a good idea to come out in the middle of the station, Evan Buckley, supportive ally or no that's not exactly gonna put you in your comfort zone, c'mon) or maybe he just needs to work his way up to it because Eddie is obviously Preoccupied. But he almost lets the moment pass, again, at home, in his own space, bc Eddie is still Preoccupied. But -- but he doesn't WANT to, because they are talking about their love lives and Buck wants Eddie to be an active participant in his thought process just like he always is.

We were on a date, he says, and Eddie takes a second to process. Which. Fair. Buck had leaned against his kitchen island for like ten minutes after Tommy left, that night after he kissed him. Eddie prompts him to repeat it, and it doesn't suck, actually, it feels like a weight lifting off his chest -- "Is that weird?" -- but of course Eddie doesn't find it weird, he just didn't KNOW (so many pieces of the puzzle fall into place for Eddie, holy shit his best friend maimed him because he had a crush on their new friend, holy shit had Tommy been slyly pumping his son for information because HE had a crush too???).

And suddenly Buck is absolutely free to bitch about his love life again, and Eddie is there to give him advice and be fully in his corner and Buck has exactly what he needs to go Full Buck. He's got his sister, and his best friend, and maybe he actually doesn't need Bobby this time because it feels right to call Tommy up and set up a meeting for coffee.

No longer bogged down by "well I'm an ally why couldn't I have been chill about being on a date with a dude" - he can text Maddie that night and be like "Hey is Tommy already invited to the wedding?" and grin when she texts back "Buck what does this mean" and send back "You said you wanted to meet him".

With Eddie's support and his "well then he's an idiot", Buck has the time to mull over what he wants to say, what Tommy makes him feel, what he would want if Tommy was willing to give him another chance. He doesn't want it to be one failed date, he doesn't want to hide Tommy away, he wants something real and something true and something he can share with his family and friends and he thinks maybe Tommy could want that, too.

[quintessenceofdust88]

(you guys this just came to me while I was almost falling asleep it's unbeata'ed and unedited and I'll probably cringe at it in the morning but 3am me doesn't have that filter so)

Tommy's not sure what wakes him up; at first, he thinks it's the light of Evan's screen, but that can't be it. He has slept many a time with that light upon his face when his husband gets caught up in a research binge.

Then Tommy realizes it's the soft sobbing that's making Evan's shoulders shake slightly, and he's sitting up in bed and alert in seconds.

"Baby" He calls urgently, placing a hand on Evan's shoulder. "What's wrong?"

Evan turns around to face him, also sitting up, and the knot in Tommy's chest loosens slightly when he sees the smile on his tear-stained face. Happy tears, then. A common thing for Evan for the last few months, but still quite unexpected at 3 in the morning.

"Did... Did you know they have fingernails already?" Evan asks, his voice thick with emotion as his hand moves gently on his bump which is already starting to stretch the old T-shirt he's wearing (and Tommy knows it's only a matter of time until he switches for Tommy's slightly larger ones).

"They do, sweetheart?" Tommy whispers in awe, his hand coming down to join Evan's over his belly. He knows that twelve weeks is too soon to feel anything; even if there are two babies, but he likes to know their babies are right under the joined hands of their dads.

"Y--yeah. And eyelashes too. I... I was just reading about fetal development and twins and... Fingernails, Tommy. I... I don't know why, but it made them seem so more real for me. There are two little people growing up inside of me. We made them!" He says, his voice filled with awe, and the tears start running down his face again. "Ohh, come on, that's not fair, the irrational crying was supposed to have stopped already!" He whines, and Tommy more than quickly pulls Evan to his embrace.

Evan drops his head unceremoniously in Tommy's shoulder, and Tommy runs a comforting hand on his curls, the other one still protectively draped above the bump.

"Well, if you ask me, crying over our babies' fingernails is not completely irrational" Tommy quips, gaining a wet chuckle for his efforts. "I... I get what you mean. It makes them... It makes them tangible. More than an idea"

Evan nods against his shoulder, and Tommy has to hold back his own tears as the thought fully enters his mind.

As he gently kisses Evan's forehead and convinces him to drop his phone and actually get some sleep, Tommy can't keep a grin from his face.

Two little people. Growing inside Evan. And they made them. What a wonderful idea to fall asleep to.

[shinakazami1]

Transcript of IGN Handsome Jack QnA

This thing doesn't have the whole text but - questions and some of my fav Meg-Jack interactions :^] I tried to write their speech patterns as close as possible

Transcript under the cut:

0:30: Question: Is Buttstallion the best horse ever Jack : Well it’s my horse. That I made her ( <- FACT CHECK: he bought her) out-out of diamonds, so…

0:45 Q: What it’s like wearing a face (mask - though in video it's funnily shown) J: It’s not a mask, it’s a freaking face! Do people think I’m wearing a freaking mask on my face? MEG!! I’m kidding. You’re cute tho. You know what it’s like—do you ever put a onesie on right out of the dryer? (whisper) it’s like that. (normal volume) It’s cosy. It just feels right. And a cool thing about wearing a face is – you can swap them out with however many people you kill in course of an afternoon or a week or whatever. You get off that face – you put on another one! (laughs mid-sentence) It’s fantastic. I can look at whoever. I could look like you Meg if I wanted to. I might later. Wear your face.

1:43 Q: Boxers or briefs? J: Commando!

1:50 Q: What dead celebrity would you bring back? J: Tom Cruise. (learning he is still alive) He’s not dead. Oh. Well-well let’s kill him and then I can bring him back to life or whatever.

2:10 -2:52 (Off top) J: Where did you get these pretzels Meg: From the Hyperion vending machine J: They’re delicious. (long silence) They’re good. (longer) I promise someone will clean it up – my God that’s what happens If you drink beer at lunch, people!

(….) J: Pandorian, people are dumb but loyal. M: I’m loyal sir. I’m very, very very- J: Nah, so much of this. M: Oh yes, sir.

2:15 (Answer 3:25) Q: Do people recognise your voice in public? J: I’m all over the fucking place. I’m in megaphones, I’m in-in like convenience store, vending machines so—yeah. Yeah uh, I have to say. Yeah.

3:48 Q: Favourite type of weapon? J: What do you think, Meg? M: Uhh-anything that kills, sir. J: Well, I would say Hyperion would be a good start, wouldn’t you. M: (louder, nervously) That would be a very good start. J: There you go. Smart… uh. (Awkward horrible silence he prob wanted to say ‘smart girl’ and im glad he didn’t say it cus Jesus Christ man how much cringe can you spout out of your mouth). Anything made by Hyperion and anything that and anything that inflicts, like you said. Fairness to you. The most damage possible.

4:09 Q: (person wanted a greeting for her cat Tunses) J: Hey Tunses.

4:30 Q: Which Vault Hunter do you hate the least and which the most? J: I try not to play favourites. I hate them all the same. M: They’re all pretty terribl- J: (growling) They’re all equally hateable. M: They’re all pretty terrible. (you go girl say your lines) J: Each and every one of them. M: They all want to kill you, sir. J: God I hate them so much.

(Off top) J: (soft laugh) I enjoy your company M: You would make a great voice actor, sir. J: You know I’ve heard that! Yeah yeah yeah – people tell me sh# t all the time. You know. Like : , uh- I (chuckles) get that you, babe- M: You can cook, sir?! J: I- uh, um, I, uh – yeah. I'm really quite handy in the kitchen. M: Yeah? J: Yeah. M: What do you like to make sir. J: I find it- I find it z-zens me out after coming home and washing all the blood out of my clothes.

5:25 Q: Why are you so perfect? J: I don’t know, ask my mom. (pause) You can’t – you can’t because she’s dead, I killed her – but if she was alive, you could ask my mom.

(offtop) J: (playing the game) Where is my oxygen level? M: So, your oxygen level isssss – where the hell is it? J; Come on Meg – I cannot with your (Meg breaks out laughing) you stupid little sh#t like this (they both laugh) and you’re letting me dooown. M: Oh my God I’m the worst!! J: No it’s right over (chin upfront sounding voice idk how else to call him becoming a goblin) it’s right over there, did your little brain fall out of your head, Meg? M: Sorry, should be on your map. J: (genuine soft sounding) Why am I so mean to you? M: I don’t know, sir. J: (still soft, but cool persona) AAA that’s cus of what- that’s what I do.

J: How does Handsome Jack butt slam? M: I think youuuu- J: Anyway he likes (laughs) M: (chuckles) Yes, yes, exactly- J: Joke right there. Welcome

(…) J: That’s what the hip kid say. Instead of , they say (he becomes sonic and laughs like him). Did you know that? M: No, sir J: Yeah. That’s what they do.

(…) M: (after Jack killed a few monsters) Good job! J: Thank you Meg! Thank you for being such a loyal supporter. M: Absolutely sir: J: Really appreciate you, Meg. M: You do sir??? J: Claptrap (HEEEELP THE TIMING??? WHY DOES HE SAY THIS) M: That’s great. Oh- J: I appreciate you Claptrap.

(…) J: Gotta get some things- M: Yes. J: Gotta get some uh- hopefully some grenades. I love- I love the grenades! I got to say, I’m a huge fan (starts chuckling) blowing sh#t up.

7:25 Q: Is Handsome Jack happy? J: (laughs) That’s a great question. It’s deep, isn’t it? Um, there’s a lot of smiling going on here (chuckle) but really, I’m dead inside. It seems like everything I say has just a weird connotation to it. Some kind of inappropriate connotation to it. (sincere) Did you- did you ever noticed that? M: No, sir. J: Good answer! (laughs)

(Offtop) J: Ah for f#ck sake (kills a skag) M: That’s where you’re supposed to go. J: That’s – so I got to go outside. M: Yeah, you have to go outside. J: So you were right. Before. First time for everything, Claptrap. M: Yes. Yes sir. J: Yes siiiir.

(…) M: You’re doing great, sir. J: Atta girl. (pause) I got- I got to stop saying that. (laughs) Okay (nervous chuckles continue) M: And you got another badass rank so you can use that as well. J: Oh, okay – that’s see- now that is some useful information. M: (joyful and surprised) Really?? J: Yeah!

(…) J: (Asks about a game feature. Ben, someone out of the mic, answers before Meg in a monotone voice) Why is Ben so much smarter than you. Ummm- (nervous chuckle turning into silent cry-laugh between Meg and him) M: I’m doing my best sir. J: Ay-ay.

(…) J: What the f that just happened here. That just- I just picked that and now I can-okay. M: You have- you have- you have multiple. So it-do-does it— J: Oh, you’re God, how do you make so much sense when you say things. (…) J: (talking about enemy name pronounciation) Had to do an r-roll with that criiiticic crrrretin (??? im sorry I cant hear it well 9:15 pls help ) M: That’s very – that’s very fancy, sir. J: Mmm. You know what I am? M: What are you? J: I’m so fancy. M: You’re- J: I’m schmancy. (Meg snickers) You cut that one out too, Ben. That was- that was some bullsh#t (laughs) M: You’re so fancy, we already know.

(…) J: (About game dialogue) I don’t know who that is but I find them (emphasis) extrrrRRREMELY annoying. M: Oh they are the Vault Hunters si- J: (immediately) God they’re f#cking annoying, aren’t they. M: They are really, really annoyin- J: I feel like they’re trying too hard, that’s the thing. That’s the thing that’s standing out for me here. M: Yes, I think you should kill them. J: It’s one thing to be naturally funny and then there’s another – it’s another thing to- to be like – you know what I mean like – put yourself out there too much, feel like you’re overcompensating is the world I’m looking for. M: Don’t think you have to worry about that at all. J: (smooth convo swap) You know what I’m liking the most about this game? M: What do you like- J: The lack of Claptrap. M: Oh-uh, well, he is, he’s in here, if you want to- J: Listen, that’s fine – I’m in a good mood run right now, you don’t have to ruin it byyy talking about how I’m going to run into Claptrap. M: (silence) Okay sir. I’ll be quiet, sir. (pause) Yes. (pause) OH!! There’s Claptrap (in-game) Claptrap: HELLOOO- J: Oh you little son of a b#tch. Welcome to the pit of pseudo-solid sorrows, that is some alliteration. That’s a literary term for (long sign) all you people that didn’t finish school. Meg. Arena – of, partially see-through Triumph, the Hippodrome of marginally tangible everything else. (quieter) Do that make any sense to you? M: (joyful) No sir.

(…) Axton (in-game): Is it going to be a LONG story? Gaige (in-game): Yeah, just give us the Bluff’s Notes. J: (Jack is mimicking Axton’s voice) Wait, is it going to be a loooooong story? M: Yeah, they just keep talking- J: Axton is a handsome guy. M: Kinda looks like you sir- J: A little TOO handsome, if you ask me. M: He’s not as handsome as you. J: Well- I mean (chuckles) good luck with that, right. M: I mean, he might sort of be but- J: Oi! (pause) Slow your roll, sister. All right – wait, I was too busy talking, cus I love the sound of my own voice, now the f#ck am I doing? Am I loaded for bear? (Meg is trying to talk) Oh wait- M: I feel you are. No, you’re full (on amo), oh- J: Oh yeah, okay. That’s what she said. (immediately quickly nervously) Joking there. Okay if you want to, TAKE IT MAG feel free take it. M: No, that’s- J: (forceful) TAKE the joke, MAAG. M: I-I- J: Take the joke or you’re fired, Mag – or wait actually – take the joke or I’ll set you on fire, Meg. M: (playful) That’s what she said, yeah? J: God it just-it just sounds so much better coming from you for some reason.

(…) J: I think living on the moon would kind of suck. M: Why? J: I mean uh- I mean if you had to run like this all the time, you’d think it would be more advantageous or better than uhh, running –uh, say with like, uh, gravity? M: (smacks lips) Yeah, but you can do- J: Yeah but gravity Meg, is something it’s-it’s a force of energy that keeps the- it’s the Earth and the moon create, and it keeps things on the… neverm- ff, M: That was a great explanation, sir. J: (defeated) That’s fine. M: I have no idea what the hell you just said. J: (chuckles) It’s really – it was really scientific, wasn’t it? - M: It’s a thing! J: It’s a thing with the… M: I think it’s a good place to wrap this up.

(….) J: You want to do another-another thing? M: Uhh, I don’t, I don’t think we have time to do another thing, sir. J: Is that because I’m so busy and important that I have to go do stuff that is, I have people to do, and places to see- M: You’re- J: Places to see and people- I mean, places to go, people to see, things to do. M: All that. J: Yeah. M: All that more. J: Correct (laugh) Well listen, kids, first of all – you’re welcome, because this has been a real treat. Sorry about- what was your name again? M: Meg. J: Yeah, she tries real hard but uhh- let’s face it. Uhhh I don’t know. We will see. M: Thanks. J: You still might get a retirement package out of this. M: Oh- that’s great. That’s uhh- J: But it’s been a lot of fun, will go to build homeless shelters, and, (pause and rapid speech) dig wells. M: In Africa. J: Yep. M: And by Africa, we mean Africa on Pandora. J: (giggle) Yes.

[ethicaltreatmentofcowplants]

Since I didn’t want to set the kitchen on fire two days in a row, Lilac was on cooking. Mister knows what's up - he woke early and went downstairs to keep her company and enjoy some one-on-one time while everyone else slumbered.

Upstairs Forest awakes, promptly judges my decor. Listen, I promised you an authentic farmhouse experience, and an authentic farmhouse experience is what you got.

Lee with his choice of sleepwear clearly said “sun’s out, bum’s out.”

Lilac, look at your life. Look at your choices. And so once again it’s time for chore montage hour. Which we won't show because Tumblr's stingy on pictures.

Looks like it was good for… one of them?

And so we're off to fair Sulani. Forest Baywatches out, while Tiago attempts to embrace Lilac and is rebuffed 😥 She gains a sentiment from him, however? Tiago, you're too pure.

Mister and Lilac sit at the chessboard, looking for all the world like some exhausted couple who have had it with their wayward sprogs and are taking everyone to let loose in Central Park (probably not too inaccurate a descriptor). Lilac is flirting hard, but Mister is too full of secondhand embarrassment at Tiago's CRINGE to notice.

Eventually Lilac takes up the guitar, only to be laughed at by Sage. Lee and Tiago react a little more kindly.

No one’s watching me, thinks Sage the KLEPTOMANIAC as she prepares to make her move.

(Spoiler alert - they’re all watching you.)

Lee mouths off at Giovanna, and is busted accordingly.

You should never have done it, says Forest, never have done it - tsk tsk Lee!

And then Forest and Lee start to argue. This seems to be too much for Lilac’s little pixel mind - between Mean and Evil, who should you vouch for - so she wanders off to flirt with Mister instead. Good call.

She then invites him to... do an activity together with her upstairs. Even better call. We'll turn our attention back to everyone else.

Downstairs Lee is too hangry to interact with any of the skill building objects (all exactly according to Forest’s plan…), so he goes and confesses his woes to Tiago - all while Forest rubs salt in his wounds by using the punching bag behind him. 

Sage and Giovanna decide to leave the boys to their nonsense - they are making good use of the skill building objects, and building up a sweet sweet friendship besides. But we all know that femme sims can multitask.

Who, me? Giovanna is almost as good as Forest at hiding her more dastardly impulses.

Lilac and Mister continue their flirtations upstairs, aaaand Lee and Forest now pretty much hate each other.

(I had too many photos for one post, but not quite enough for two, so there will be a smol 'post credits' update eventually.)

@riverofjazzsims @ravingsockmonkey @fl0pera

@igglemouse @panicsimss @simsfvr

[a34trgv2]

I'm Done With Modern Animated Shows (For Now)

If you've been keeping up with my reviews for the past couple of years, you would see that I've been very critical of modern animated shows. At first I thought it was just a couple of bad eggs and that there would be a lot more good ones now that there's more animated content than ever. That has not been the case at all as I've been watching one failure after another.

It's not like my standards are too high. Much like everyone else, I expected to have a good time with fun and engaging characters, impressive visuals, solid voice acting, creative world building, and some funny humor. Yet nearly every cartoon I've seen recently has fallen way below my expectations. I haven't found any new characters to be fun, likable, relatable, or empathetic. I've been less impressed by the visuals because of bad character design, bad animation direction or in some cases both. I haven't been able to be invested in the story or world because rather than it being shown to me, everything is just told in long winded exposition dumps. I can't even honestly call these shows funny or well acted because the humor is more often than not cringe and the actors, try as they might, are at the mercy of hopeless material and/or bad voice direction. It's no longer fun to watch cartoons these days, it's just frustrating.

What really bugs me is whenever I bring these issues up, I'm often scrutinized for being too harsh or not fair. What many people fail to realize is I'm acting no different than when they would criticize a show they dislike. I'm still talking about the show as it's presented to me, and unlike actual hacks who are unjustly harsh and have bad faith criticisms, I don't through the creators under the bus and I don't insult them personally. I thought many people would actually see where I was coming from when I criticized these shows for their lackluster and at times egregiously inexcusable quality. Yet time and again my posts have been called "ragebait" which is most certainly not true as I hate clickbait and would never say something controversial just to piss people off.

Due to all the stress of watching lackluster cartoons and the unfair comments I've received, I've decided that it's best for me to just stop watching new cartoons for the time being. I know for a fact if I continue down this path, I'm gonna end up exactly like Mr. Enter: a sad, lonely, and pathetic man who gets his sick kicks out of making stupid, unfair, and poorly constructed takes on cartoons. I don't find it fun or interesting criticizing cartoons because I know a lot of talented people put in a lot of hard work into the final product and are already having a horrible time as it is. They're underpaid, underappreciated, overworked, anxious, depressed, and many of them are laid off for financial reasons despite many of them having bills/rent to pay and families to feed. Their work is still open for criticism, but I personally just don't like criticizing someone's work when they probably already feel like nobody appreciates them.

Rather then spend my days criticizing modern cartoons, I'm just gonna make up my own stories and tell them the way I want them to be told. At least then I'd actually be enjoying my free time and relieving myself of stress. I don't know when or if I'll watch a new animated show, but for now I say I'm done.

[sophieinwonderland]

The hatesub r/systemscringe are being full-on transphobes again!

Reminder: a huge number of systems have alters and headmates with completely different genders and sexes from the body.

Anyone who has ever studied any type of multiplicity is aware of this fact.

And not-so-shockingly, this makes gender complicated.

Let's just see the screenshots they're angry at today.

So the body has transitioned to male but this one headmate identifies as female and identifies as a trans woman.

In another screenshot, the system says they aren't "invading trans spaces." Which is such an absurd thing to have to defend yourselves from accusations of when you're a part of a trans system.

Even if you do take the position that spaces for transwomen should be exclusionary AFAB people, one would at least expect the male headmates to be able to feel safe in the trans community without being made to feel like they're "invaders."

Unfortunately, many pluralphobes and queer exclusionists have decided the gender identity of headmates in systems is less valid than that of singlets.

This is another pretty common thing. Especially with introjects who have source memories. It's common to have memories of lives you may not have actually lived but still feel pretty real.

I did a Tumblr poll last year. About half of systems responding had at least one trans headmate with the same gender as the body's AGAB. Nearly all had cis headmates with the opposite gender of the body.

Of course, if you heard it from r/systemscringe, they must be faking being trans entirely!

And takes like this throw not just systems under the bus, but also people who are genderfluid or otherwise nonbinary as well.

And if you're thinking, "wow, that comment sounds like something truscum would say," you aren't wrong!

Here are some unrelated posts this same user has authored:

Back to r/systemscringe, most of the comments were more of the same, stopping just short of calling them transtrenders but clearly very much wanting to!

By the way, all the censors on the names of the system and alters were mine. u/superthrowawayEEE censored nothing. When a user points this out, moderator u/DizkoLites says they considered taking it down but chose not to, saying their name was common enough that it wouldn't matter.

To be fair, the mods did end up taking it down... after the system got harassed for their gender and contacted the subreddit directly.

So congrats on waiting until after the harassment to enforce your own rules!

But don't worry, you're free to make a brand new post mocking someone for their gender identity! r/systemscringe's mod team is totally cool with that! Just gotta hide the name because that's apparently the only problem here!🙄

(You know, unless they're on the mod-approved hit list. Then you can name them too no matter how much harassment they get.)

The other day, someone asked this question on the hatesub:

Here's the answer:

Stop being bigots.

Stop being ableists.

Stop spreading misinformation.

Stop mocking people for their genders.

Stop harboring truscum and parroting transphobic talking points!

Try to be decent human beings for once in your lives!

And then... well, I guess that wouldn't leave much of a subreddit would it? There's no r/systemscringe without ableism, transphobia and queer exclusionism. It's baked into the DNA of these groups.

But maybe that would be for the best.

Nothing from these cringe communities is salvageable. And nothing should be socially acceptable about groups founded on cyberbullying.

[gwemmieee]

Hey, have you ever examined the deep fear, paranoia, and shame you feel whenever you try to examine or voice something you feel deep down that you're worried someone else might take issue with? Don't you feel bad about all the subtle ways it renders you less able to know yourself, love yourself, express yourself, and advocate for yourself? If you're thinking about all that social anxiety horror that Super Eye Patch Wolf just talked about, and if you're so utterly afraid of standing out or going against the crowd--this is related to that.

It's probably because you think it's good to call someone out before it's proven that they are knowingly and willfully causing harm. It's probably because you think people should be punished if they harm someone period, even if it was by accident or without knowing. Even if it might have just been a misunderstanding and no real harm done was anyone's fault. And it's only fair that the same standard applies to you as well, isn't it?

It's probably because you've internalized that your value as a human being deserving of love and community can be reduced or eliminated if you say something wrong enough loudly enough. It's probably because, even if you do not ascribe to thought crime, and you agree that we should not demonize ourselves or each other for our own thoughts and feelings as long as we put in the work to be good with our actions, you tripped at the finish line when you forgot about the basic fact of human psychology that we can't translate negative thoughts into positive action without being able to speak about it openly in a space where others will truly understand how we feel, and not just skip straight to the part where feeling that way is already cringe before you've actually fully internalized your own growth past it.

It's probably because you have privilege as someone who has ever had access to real friends/family who stand by you no matter what heinous shit you say or do, and that privilege has enabled you to learn a lot very quickly about how to appear as a good person in society, because those friends/family allowed you to actually feel supported as a human being with feelings before you knew better, which is a hard prerequisite to ever knowing better, and you have not examined that privilege.

It's probably because you think you can sniff out who's good or bad just on vibes and act as judge, jury, and executioner, instead of focusing on harm reduction for anyone who you know was hurt and learning some hard realities about human interaction. For example, being ignorant is not the same as acting on that ignorance. Voicing ignorance without aggression and then being willing to learn something is actually a good thing for others to view in public, because it teaches valuable lessons to everyone paying attention, and anyone who feels validated and empowered to be shitty from such an exchange was just looking for an excuse.

I think this knowledge is something that we feminists should stand for. Anti-militancy. I know it's hard to tell here on this gremlin-ass modern internet for many of us due to circumstances beyond our control, but when you actually go outside and have friends IRL, you'll notice that feminine people out there already understand most of this.

Remember when we used to talk about being tolerant of everything except intolerance? Well, this is part of that. You're not supposed to dehumanize someone and ignore their feelings just for sounding racist one time. You're supposed to try to educate them or, failing that, practice harm reduction (which can escalate into a callout if they're truly a bad actor). Punching nazis is for when you literally fucking know that someone is willfully being harmful (perhaps because they're platforming hate). Most of them don't just cosplay as nazis in easy ways to pick out. That's why fascists are so insidious and good at infiltrating spaces. Each of us has a desperate hope that I am the one, it's me, I can be able to know at a glance who is good or bad, without taking the time and effort to get to know them first. And they prey on that. They use that to make us fight each other instead of them.

"Oh, but Gwemmie, does this mean you're defending X or Y person?" I dunno, how does their situation compare to what I just said? This post was inspired by the many times I have been dogpiled and ostracized for openly using language in autistic ways that have been confused for bigotries or insensitivities that just weren't in my speech or my thoughts (usually because those doing the dogpiling put words in my mouth, didn't parse a sentence correctly, or just decided to be ableist and go off vibes instead of what I very openly say). If you come in here thinking I'm making this post to subtweet about anyone else, you're part of the problem.

[cyborgpuppyofficial]

so why do you like Scourge the Hedgehog? What got you interested in him?

Yo my first ask!!!! Thank you so much for asking me a question, and to anybody else, I'll always be happy to respond to questions you may have about me or my oc's. Anyways, this is gonna be kinda long. ^^'

Long Explanation: So I've always liked Scourge design wise, ever since I was pretty little. Maybe about seven was when I saw him for the first time? I used to mistake him for Manic, but eventually learned the difference. When I learnt he was an Evil Counterpart of Sonic, I was hooked on him. I've always been a fan of AU's, and the concept has been something I loved to write for a very long time. Since I was young, I didn't understand his character, and wrote him in a dumb way when I was younger. Usually as a generic bad boy antagonist in Sonic High School AU's and stuff...

Later on during 2019, I was bored and decided to read more of the Archie Comics. That's when I learnt his backstory, and I became HOOKED on his universe, and the other Anti Counterparts. I began doing research, and I ended up starting a Gacha Life Shorts Show called The Misadventures Of Moebius on Tik Tok. It's still currently going, and I genuinely have fun writing it. It's mostly just me expanding on Anti Mobius, since the Archie Comics came to an end, and we never got to see many things from the universe. Many of the early episodes are inaccurate to my thoughts on most of the characters nowadays, and how they act. But to be fair, it's my first ever series, and I was only about 12 when I began making it for the first time. And at that point, I didn't even finish reading Archie like a dummy. I basically wanted to make silly shorts with some goofy characters I liked.

AUGH SO CRINGE AUGHHH. TmT

I appreciate his cool design, and the many writing opportunities he holds. It's easy to see Scourge as all evil, and write him as a cool villain. This is because of his cocky and rebellious demeanor. But it's also just as easy to see him as a misunderstood and not all evil character, which is how I personally see him. I think the idea of him and his father would've been cool to see more of, since obviously Scourge's home life effected the way he turned out growing up. And that if he's with the right people, he could've been just like Sonic! Kind of like an inverse on what he says to Sonic during one of their battles. In other people's AU's he's still a bad guy, but in my own I redeemed him. The nuanced way that people can see his character is a reason why I love him so much!

Plus, I like how he isn't super crazy like other Archie Sonic Villain's. Sometimes he's just kind of a dickbag, and I always enjoy someone who can be threatening, but also silly. I don't love everything about his character of course, he has some things that I try to forget about with his writing. But that's basically the case for every single character I like from anything ever. XD

I love this little shit so much. XD

TLDR:I've liked the green goober for a while now, but only since 2019 have I been more public about my love for this dummy. I love the idea of his universe, I like the many paths writers can take his character, and I just think his personality is really fun.

If you're interested, bellow is a work in progress on my Headcannon/AU Scourge that I use in my TMOM Episodes and videos! I hope to draw him, and the other cannon cast more often. And maybe interacting with my Anti Counterparts I made, or original characters from his universe I've built up for five years now. But I'm starting out by just making him a ref page. My next post will hopefully be him, or my next video. ^w^

I'm making this design for a video! And also just for fun! I can't wait to share the final with ya'll! X3

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Thomas Chatterton Williams

Published: May 19, 2024

We’d gathered that day at the cafeteria’s “Black” table, cracking jokes and philosophizing during the free period that was our perk as upperclassmen. We came in different shades: bone white, tan and brownish, dark as a silhouette. One of my classmates, who fancied himself a lyricist, was insisting that Redman, a witty emcee from nearby Newark, New Jersey, was the greatest rapper ever. This was the late ’90s, and for my money, no one could compete with Jay-Z. I said so, and the debate, good-natured at first, soon escalated in intensity, touching on feelings and resentments that ran far deeper than diverging claims about artistic merit.

“How can you even weigh in?” I still remember the kid fuming. “You ain’t even the pure breed!”

With that, there was nothing left to say. Friends separated us, the bell rang, and I headed home. A short time later, I went off to college, where I would meet a wider assortment of Americans than I had realized existed. But over the years, I have been reminded of that boy’s slicing racism, the lazy habit of mind that required no white people to be present but would nonetheless please the most virulent white supremacist.

Recently, two public controversies spirited me back to the suspicion and confusion of my high-school cafeteria. All spring long, an unusually nasty feud between the rappers Drake and Kendrick Lamar has been captivating audiences, both for the quality of the music it has engendered and for the personal and malicious dimensions of the attacks it has countenanced. Much has been written about the fight, in particular about the two men’s treatment of women, which I won’t rehash here except to point out that it’s a little funny that they both portray themselves as enlightened allies while also acting as if the ultimate disparagement is to call another man feminine. Less has been said about the potency of the racial dimension, which feels like a throwback to a time before Drake’s pop-culture dominance—indeed, to a time before the historic hybridity of the Obama era—and like a distillation of the skin-deep racialism of the current social-justice movement.

Drake, who grew up in Toronto, is the son of a white Jewish mother from Canada and a Black father from Memphis. Since the release of his 2009 mixtape, So Far Gone, he has been not only the most successful visibly mixed-race rapper—and arguably pop star—but also the most visible Black male musician for some time now. Anyone at the top will attract criticism. But not even a white rapper like Eminem has been subject to the kind of racial derogation that has been hurled at Drake.

Back in 2018, the rapper Pusha T released a diss track about him for which the cover art was an old photograph of Drake performing in a cartoonish blackface. The image makes you cringe, but—as Drake explained—that was the point. Drake began his career as an actor, and he wrote that the photograph was part of a “project that was about young black actors struggling to get roles, being stereotyped and typecast … The photos represented how African Americans were once wrongfully portrayed in entertainment.” But presented without context, it appeared to be a self-evident statement of inauthenticity.

Another rapper, Rick Ross, calls Drake “white boy” again and again in his song “Champagne Moments,” released in April. In an op-ed for The Grio, the music journalist Touré explains why the insult is so effective: “We know Drake is biracial. He’s never hidden that, but many of us think of him as Black or at least as a part of the culture … On this record, Ross is out to change that.” Touré calls this “hyperproblematic,” but his tone is approving—he admires the track. “We shouldn’t be excluding biracial people from the Black community, but in a rap beef where all is fair as a way of attacking someone and undermining their credibility and their identity, it’s a powerful message.”

In a series of more high-profile records, Lamar has built on Ross’s theme, both implying and stating directly that racial categories are real, that behaviors and circumstances (like Drake’s suburban upbringing) correlate with race, and that the very mixedness of Drake’s background renders him suspect. It is an anachronistic line of ad hominem attack that is depressing to encounter a quarter of the way into the 21st century.

Lamar’s most recent Drake diss is called “Not Like Us,” and reached No. 1 on Billboard Hot 100. It goes after Drake’s cultural affiliations with the American South. “No, you not a colleague,” Lamar taunts. “You a fucking colonizer!”

It’s hard to hear that and not remember that Drake’s mother is Jewish, and that this is the same invective used to undermine Jews’ sense of belonging in Israel. Such racist habits of thought have become potent rhetorical weapons in the progressive arsenal.

The second (if smaller) controversy followed an essay on language and protest published in The New Yorker earlier this month. The novelist Zadie Smith, who is of European and African descent, argued—carefully—that it is too simplistic to regard the world as sortable into categories of oppressor and oppressed. “Practicing our ethics in the real world involves a constant testing of them,” she writes, “a recognition that our zones of ethical interest have no fixed boundaries and may need to widen and shrink moment by moment as the situation demands.” This was an attempt to take seriously the tangible fate of Hamas’s victims on October 7, the broader implications of anti-Semitism that can at times be found in criticism of Israel’s response, and the ongoing tragic loss of Palestinian life.

Despite praising the protests that have engulfed college campuses and describing a cease-fire in Gaza as “an ethical necessity,” Smith was derided on more than intellectual grounds. One widely shared tweet, accompanied by a photo of Smith, stated the criticism plainly: “I feel like Zadie Smith uses black aesthetics to conceal her deeply pedestrian white middle-class politics. People see the head wrap and the earrings made of kente cloth and confuse that for something more substantive.”

This was not the first time Smith had been regarded as a racial interloper. The author Morgan Jerkins once wrote of the emotional “hurt” she felt reading another thoughtful essay Smith published in Harper’s asking “Who owns black pain?” Smith’s transgression here, according to Jerkins, was “intellectualizing blackness” from a distance instead of feeling it. “Do not be surprised,” Jerkins warned, “if a chunk of that essay is used in discussions as to why biracial people need to take a backseat in the movement.”

The retrograde notion that thought and action necessarily flow from racial identities whose borders are definable and whose authority is heritable is both fictitious and counterproductive. “Something is afoot that is the business of every citizen who thought that the racist concepts of a century ago were gone­—and good riddance!” Barbara and Karen Fields write in their 2012 masterpiece, Racecraft: The Soul of Inequality in American Life. “The continued vitality of those concepts stands as a reminder that, however important a historical watershed the election of an African-American president may be, America’s post-racial era has not been born.”

Of course, the first African American president was, like our nation and culture, himself both Black and white. One of the most disappointing—and, I have come to realize—enduring reasons the “post-racial era” continues to elude us is that it is not only the avowed racists who would hold that biographical fact against him.

==

This is why we call it neoracism, not "antiracism."