#not to toot my own horn but if anyone could do it i could

[musicalmoritz]

I was skimming through my old Soukoku fics and LMAO Chuuya chill out

[heldbykento]

⊹₊ ⋆ ㅤ— “FEEL YOU FROM THE INSIDE . .ᐟᅟ ”

part 1 | part 2

wrd count: 1304

warnings: smut, fem!reader x josh, dry-humping, drinking, josh is a pervert, semi-plot, make out, drunk reader, smutty indications, aggressive teasing

a/n : my bi-monthly drop!!!! wrote this for my dear friend adri, and me :3 but also because i just finished until dawn and this sexy man is EVERYWHERE… will be writing more of him soon. stay tuned ! ;)

you knew your limits when it came to alcohol, what you could handle and what you couldn’t.

but joshua washington had to be the world's best sweet talker. because you’d convinced everyone at the lodge you’d be the most sober.

now you were the only one slurring out a random song with an empty bottle of expensive vodka wrapped around your perfectly jeweled up and manicured hand.

“jooooosssshhhhh…” you slurred to him, clinging onto his bicep that felt oddly larger than usual. all he could do was give that signature sexy laugh and shake his head at you.

he was gentle with you, still obviously teasing but not to an extent.

the boy knew you weren’t 100% yourself when you got this drunk.

“mhm, that’s my name.” he said to you, the two of you weren’t necessarily separated from the group, but you weren’t close enough to be in their conversations.

that was always the case when the two of you were together.

but to him, close was never close enough.

you were rubbing your face all on his flannel, cheek chubbying up and only looking up at him through your eyelids.

eyes big and full of drunken content.

to him, you were just so pretty vulnerable.

the way he was looking down at you was almost straight out of a cheap porno.

his wide eyes, now low and full of an extreme emotion that your weak brain couldn’t understand.

but you had an idea that it was what you were wearing, not to toot your own horn.

soft layers: a tight white tank top stacked with a hot pink zip-up that had fur on the hood and graphics on the back, your tight denim shorts and fleece tights that were meant to keep you warm, but anyone with a right mind knew they were just for show.

technically… you had packed more outfits like this for the trip, but that’s because you weren’t expecting the cabin to be so bitterly cold.

so it wasn’t really even your fault.

in reality, you were dressing this way on purpose.

okay maybe you were dressed like this because you loved the attention.

the peering looks he gave you anytime you walked by, the snarky comments that left his perfect mouth.

who were you to blame? look at that man.

“feelin’ clingy tonight, huh?” he taunted, laughing in your face at the way you were holding onto him and gawking.

“me—? clingy? y’r funny, washington…” all you could do was stutter and stumble on your words.

he made you nervous and you were so intoxicated you could barely think before speaking.

holding him like this made you imagine all the possibilities. all the things you could be doing to each other right now.

and it almost felt like he was thinking the same, like you were always riding on the same wavelength.

you know something else you could ride on.

it was stupid to imagine but there’s always been a tension between you two, so thick and palpable that it left you knees-weak every time he flirted with you.

“let’s just cut the bullshit. c’mon.” before you could even process that he was talking to you, a rough set of calluses were wrapped around your forearm, tugging you somewhere in the lodge that you couldn’t quite comprehend.

the second you heard a door close behind you two, you realized you were in the master bedroom,

only knowing this due to the sudden change of temperature in the room compared to the living room.

“wha- aren’t they gonna n— notice that we’re gone?” you were confused, but you trusted him.

despite the evident look of hunger and lust in his eyes. you trusted yourself in his hands.

“i don’t care. i just needed to get you alone.” his mouth made its way to your ear, slowly, as his warm breath came to touch with your skin,

your body froze up at the sudden attention, making you feel warm. “y/n. almost years i’ve been fantasizing about you, ever since we met,” he paused and cautiously reached for your hips.

his hands were warm and you felt safe, once you processed his words you became putty in them.

“huh?”

was all you could mutter out, keeping yourself in place by grabbing onto his triceps, looking up at him through your full and wispy eyelashes.

“i’m sayin’ i wanna fuck you, pornstar. your skin is so soft and warm. i wanna know,” he paused to straighten himself up and look at you.

“i wanna know what it feels like inside that pussy of yours.”

drunk, he was drunk this had to be the drinks talking. there was no way this was real.

even if he was intoxicated, that didn’t stop his words from going straight in between your legs. arousal pooling onto your lacy panties.

could’ve sworn your eyes started to roll back at the dirty talk, he was so good at it too.

“y’don’t mean that—“ he quickly cut you off, pulling you in nice and personal and grabbing at the plush skin that was covered by tight denim. “i do. with every fiber in me, i swear i do.”

the physical attention was overwhelming, and the verbal one was even more intense. you didn’t know what else to do but to give in to something you’ve been praying for for so long.

you couldn’t even suck in a breath before he was crashing his lips onto yours.

it was a kiss that made you dizzy, you melted into it though, wrapping yourself onto him.

he led you backwards, kissing you still while he was walking, pressing your back against whatever wall was close; stabilizing you with his knee between your legs.

you were holding onto the hair on the back of his head for dear life, loving the hot and messy kiss so much that it turned you on.

all the sexual frustration of not getting any in almost a year turned you into some horn dog.

your head was spinning, you could barely make out a thought. josh’s hand began to unzip your jacket, sliding it off your body while his lips started roaming down your neck.

“i ca— can’t take it,” a whine slipped out of your lips, head turned to face away from him to hide away your embarrassment.

this didn’t stop him though, you felt him smile against your skin and only itch on more.

rutting your hips for you against his clothed leg while he started sucking ravishingly against your neck, josh himself could barely keep himself from grinning at how much he’s won.

josh was the type for messy and quick sex. but when he thinks of having it with you, he wants it hard and slow.

painfully slow. so he can make you take in everything, make you feel everything all at once.

his fingers started sliding off the straps of your tight shirt, lips starting to make contact with the plush skin of your breasts.

“so fuckin’ sexy. just like i imagined. you g’nna let me give it to you? hm?” he was teasing, words muffled by the way he had his lips wrapped around your nipple.

“god i can’t wait to fill you up. gonna tell chris how good this pussy is.” josh snickered, grinning at the mess he was making of you.

and he hadn’t even fucked you yet.

he brought himself up to bite on your ear, hands teasing your breasts as your hips (which had minds of their own) kept grinding on his knee, the friction making your brain go into mush.

your mind was completely blown, blank and empty.

fingers were digging and wrinkling up his flannel as your mouth was agape.

you were all hot and bothered, needing and yearning for more.

if you felt this good only from foreplay, imagine how good being so full of his dick was gonna be.

you couldn’t wait.

you were letting out noises you didn’t even know you could make,

and he was barely getting started.

[jamiepaige]

Constant Companions Closeup #5: CADMIUM COLORS

(also on bandcamp and spotify!)

Once again, welcome back to the Constant Companions Closeups - a series of in-depth dives into the songs off of my latest album, Constant Companions! Last time, I wrote a whole diatribe about my OCs while talking about I Wish That I Could Fall, and today, we're eating paint! Cadmium Colors featuring Soneji of Project Mikan!

Consider this a content warning: this post will discuss the pandemic, struggles with mental health, and suicidal ideation/attempts. I'm hoping it'll ultimately be uplifting, but the discussions at hand are incredibly heavy, and it wouldn't do this song right to be vague. Please be warned.

---

Let's talk about COVID.

At the beginning of 2020, I was in the midst of a long-term break from making music. It wasn't completely cold turkey, and I might not have even called it a break if you'd asked me at the time, but things were dire. I was still dealing with the burnout I'd sustained from the making of Autumn Every Day; I'd had my ego bruised by a live performance at a house party that went so hilariously bad it'd hurt even the most stoic performers (imagine watching an entire packed room of people clear out in 5 minutes flat from the already hyper-exposed vantage point of being on stage in front of them and knowing you single-handedly caused that lol); I had just moved across the country, and was preoccupied with trying to make ends meet as a 22 year old dealing with pure adulthood for the first time.

I was working a shitty minimum wage job at a discount clothing store I will not be naming, slogging through late-night shifts that wouldn't get me home until 3 am some nights. I had friends and roommates, but they were all just as overworked and exhausted and dealing with their own shit as me. I was mentally ill and unmedicated. Suicidal ideation was rearing its ugly head at my lowest moments.

Then, as I turned 23, a global pandemic shut the world down, my grandpa died with me being unable to attend his funeral, and I had a catastrophic mental breakdown that suddenly turned the voices in my head into a deafening cacophony of self-inflicted malice.

In hindsight, I think being 23 kinda just does that to you

---

Fast forward to 2021. I was back at my retail job with the pandemic raging in full force, my sense of self was held together with duct tape, positive self-talk essentially didn't exist for me, and I was the loneliest and lowest I had ever been. I was working the fewest hours I could get away with, and still, almost all spare time I had was taken up either by work or by my recovery from it.

This was around the time I got an email from Crypton, of all places - the people that make Hatsune Miku, for anyone uninformed. They wanted a remix of the song Happy Synthesizer for a Digital Stars compilation. I could not for the life of me tell you how I lucked into this or why they reached out to me of all people, but they did, and I was deathly determined to prove myself worthy of it.

This was August of 2021. I was staring down the barrel, languishing in what felt like only half of a life, fantasizing about death and trying to twist my thoughts into something that could at least keep me blearily shuffling forward another couple days. It was untenable.

(I'd also recently been diagnosed with OSDD 1b - this is a whole can of worms I can't really open until we talk about Breeze Blows, but it's important to at least mention that coping with this was a significant part of this turnaround.)

It's melodramatic, but I had only two options - make things again, or die.

I finished that remix within 24 hours of getting the stems, and I will gladly toot my own horn about it - it's really fucking good, in my opinion. Bittersweet ended up coming together in a mad dash over the next couple months as well. I was making music again.

Even though I was exponentially busier, things paradoxically got easier. I made the creative process a priority in my life, and not only did it give me an outlet for everything that had otherwise been eating away at my soul, but it struck a chord with other people who had been struggling as well. Things just... started getting brighter.

So I kept making music and living and yadda yadda blah blah here I am. This is all a lot of words and very personal stories of mental health struggles to say this:

One: The line between being an artist and being one of countless people forced to work jobs that go nowhere, that put their life at risk, that force them to strip parts of themselves away - it is a faint and transparent line built on circumstances of class and privilege and luck. Making Art and being an Artist aren't magical elevated states of existence, but something anyone is capable of if given the space to nurture their creativity. I believe the world should be a place where any person can do this.

Two: It's easy to convince yourself that art is meaningless in the face of the world at large. And yes, revolutions aren't fought by poetry and paintings, and people aren't fed through songs. But art is a source and a medium for connection; Art is how we find beauty in a disorganized and entropic world; Art is what we come home to and what words we write and pictures we paint and songs we sing to remind us that people matter to us and love is real and life is worth fucking living. Maybe that's corny and stupid, but it's true.

Three: So help me God, I will never work retail again in my entire life.

---

This is another song that is heavily inspired by artists like Prefab Sprout, Peter Gabriel, Kate Bush, and other artists of that ilk - very 80s, very flowery and sentimental lyricism, focused on telling a story. I greatly admire songs that aren't afraid to paint otherwise banal or ordinary scenes in abstract reverence!! I wanted the verses to contrast heavily with each other in that way, with verse one's relentless poeticisms (prosaic practice of depravity) and idioms turned on their head (suspending innocents above their disbelief) against verse two's incredibly straightforward depiction of a factory worker's circumstances.

The flowery language might have worked against me somewhat, though! I've seen a lot of folks that thought the ending was darker or much more defeatist than I intended, and while some of that is just inevitable with a work of art, I want to be clear.

Translator's note: this means "don't kill yourself, you idiot"!!

As you may have picked up from the previous post in this series, this song does heavily feature a leitmotif or two predominantly performed under pudgy pretenses. I'm not going to go on that whole novella-length spiel again, but rest assured knowing that this song, too, is one that makes me think about my OCs. Since it's something many people missed, however, I will take a moment to point out that this song quotes none other than Autumn Every Day off of my album of the same name!

Painting and visual art have been something of a reoccurring obsession of mine in my own art. I grew up around visual artists, have always been friends with many visual artists, and generally have a really intense love of it as a medium and a mode of expression. However, there's also always been a sense of... well, I don't want to call it jealousy, but it's jealousy. I've tried many times to start making visual art of my own, and I have made some things, but it's been a struggle, and I worry sometimes that my eye has permanently outstripped my ability.

However, in my quest to toss out grand expectations and simply have fun making art, I did recently pick up a cheap little drawing tablet! I'm excited to be a beginner at something artistic again...

Finally, I want to thank a couple people: Soneji of Project Mikan for the gorgeous, soaring saxophone solo; friend_xp for the mindboggling MV editing; and especially my good friend Que for the GORGEOUS painterly art that goes along with this song! Que's style was just perfect for this, and really tied the whole thing together immaculately!! There's no joke or deeper lore or anything I just fucking love Que's art go follow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And with that, I think this post is complete!! If you have anything else you wanna know about, ask away in the replies! Tomorrow will be Breeze Blows with Marcy Nabors and Marlow Jacobs!!!

MAKE ART AND BE GAY

[shroomaz]

"No One Else but You..." (Introduction)

A Future! RISE! Donatello x GN! Reader (Series)

A/N: This is a RISE! Take on the future story (Defeated Krang Route) and how I feel Donnie would act in the future. I personally...feel like he would be a good father, yet he has to get out of the way he acts as a genius and get in touch with his more emotional side...that's where you come in my dear reader. ENJOY!!! <3

WARNING: This is a story of You and Donnie coming together and co-parenting little softshell teetle tots. If you are not interested in babies that's completely fine- I'm much either LMAOOO-

He couldn't remember what life was like before.

It had been 20 years since the Krang were sent back to the prison dimension. And in those 20 years, the turtles have turned from teenagers...to adults.

It was such a change; especially for Donatello. The science behind time was never something Donnie could figure out. Time flew by so quickly- within a blink of an eye.

And thus, science still prospered.

It was something that he could look forward to in studies; more things to discover, more to understand...and that helped keep his mind occupied. This meant more projects of technological advancements and more body parts and upgrades for Shelldon.

It kept his mind off of...you. 

How is this? It all started the day you walked into his life...funny isn't it? The rooftop meeting; he never imagined would've give such bliss in memories as it did now.

Irony? The emotionally unavailable bad boy image twisting around and slowly becoming so attached to you throughout life the more he missed you.

He would often stay up doing all-nighters (like usual), trying to get his brain to think of other things...to no hope. Just going back to you.

It was nearly 17 years ago- 3 years after Krang was imprisoned...

......

...

"Donnie...?"

An 18-year-old Don was working on some upgrades to his battle shell, adding more limbs to his spider and sipping on flavorless juice. Blasting his jammy jams.

"DONNIE!" you had yelled out to Donnie to catch his attention.

"Hm?" Donnie had lifted his tech goggles and raised an eyebrow. "Oh- greetings Y/N! What brings you here to--hEy that's my chair!" Donnie gritted through his teeth as you laid your bum onto HIS chair...anyone else he would shove them out. However, this was you, he hated to admit it, but he had a soft spot for you.

You spun in it whilst laughing as he rolled his eyes and moved his things. "Oh come on Donnieeee...you know you are happy to see me." you had teased him with a little grin.

"Oh, on the contrary, dear Y/N, it is YOU who was missing me!" he gloated placing his hand on his chest with a smile. "Besides, it's been a while since you visited- What brings you to the Great Donatello today~?" more gloating...he loves to toot his own horn, doesn't he? It was cute.

"Can't I just come to see my partner anytime I want, hm? And-" Donnie turned back to you as he cheered.

"Victory! It seems that I am right...much like I concluded-"

"How else would you see me again." 

"....What...?" Donnie's features had dropped, as suddenly the once purple lights faded to black.

It was nothing but you... 

"What...where...? Y/N? What's going on?" Donnie had so many questions that needed answers, but were left unattended. You walked forward like you were reaching...but you turned and walked away, getting further and further.

"Y/N? No...No, no, no--Nonononono-NO- please don't leave me again- PLEASE!" Donnie called out as you continued into the darkness. The more he tried to rush to you, the more he felt like his limbs were being held back by gravity. The sound of an alarm blaring in the background getting louder.

You had looked back at him with a smile before he woke up again.

Gasping for air- and shooting up into a more proper sitting position.

He had fallen asleep at his desk again.

Looking around at his surroundings...feeling older and not like he did in his dream.

A dream...it was all a dream.

Donnie sighs as he places a hand over his face in a facepalm...and then there he felt it, the tears.

....He sighed as he rubbed his temples before looking over at one of his stations.

Standing, and stretching- he made his way to the table, and looked down at his project...his very high priority subject.

Smiling, almost full of pride.

Looking upon a specially-made incubator full of softshell eggs.

(END)

(I know this story doesn't explain a lot but its more like the prologue.

[jolalibrary]

the yearly round up

so, i am not someone who tends to toot their own horn a lot, but i thought i could be forgiven since it's my birthday. if there were a party, i'd maybe give a speech, right? so, instead of talking about myself, i thought id talk about my work and some of my fave things I've written this year and a little bit as to why. for this list, i have not included late night texts purely because i gave it a lot of love on my last secret birthday. and equally, as do me yourself comes to a close during this one, i feel it's having such a hot moment in the sun, i didn't want to bore everyone. also because if you ask me anything about dmy i won't shut the fuck up. to ask anything about these just add an 🍊.

anytime javier p x f!reader

best friends who go to a wedding only to realise they're in love? sounds like jo. this story fell out of me upon seeing a moodboard by /wildemaven and god i love them. i think about them so often and it makes me want to write him like this again. just fun, easy. it helped me find my nerve to tackle him again after a break when LNT finished, so it was nice to hang with him again.

in my room javier p x f!reader

this idea lived in my head for so long, it went through so many variations until we landed on this. i loved writing it because i hadn't written him like this, and how closed off they both were was so much fun. not having a resolved ending was tough to, but it was also really nice?

i like the way you frankie m x f!reader

would it even be a list if i don't include this? it's a work that on the surface might just feel like a lot of fun. and it is, for sure. but also this fic really taught me a lot and helped create a new relationship with sex. i won't bore or dwell on sad things, but even with therapy, a solid and healthy relationship, this fic helped heal some lasting wounds with my relationship with sex. all through the eyes of two friends who were just trying not to confess they loved one another. so very jo.

up sky, low high frankie m x f!reader

im not sure why this man makes me write some incredible smut (IMO, ofc) but he does??? this one wouldn't exist without @morallyinept urging me on, because honestly i wouldn't have had the guts without her convincing me. but, god i think about this fic a lot? i write a lot of lovely romance, but the romance in this with the smut? i never EVER thought id find that balance. and i did, have, yay!

be good, be you joel miller x f!reader

never in a million years did i think this would have been so popular. and that's not why it's on this list. it's on this list because i lived with this fic for weeks. every bit of rain the UK we had, i thought of this. anyone who knows me, knows how much i love bill + frank joel, so this was like giving into an idea that i thought would only live in my head. and now, it's there, and I'm not ashamed to say i re-read it a lot.

meet you once, saw you thrice lucien flores x f!reader

who'd have thought this would make this list? not me. but it has, and god. i really tested myself with this one. creating him was days of churning over interviews of other actors, of finding who he is in the centre of fucking nothing. and then pouring my heart into it for lovely @pedgito and god am i grateful that's the moodboard i was given. i was terrified (ali will attest) but now i am so proud of it. i love it, and him. I'm almost terrified now to see the movie and watch this version die and wilt hahaha.

din and the travelling of planets din djarin x f!reader

not a one shot, but a collection, because i spent longer trying to choose than i did dwelling on choosing the rest and writing this post. i never thought id step back into star wars, but i'm so glad i did. din and his girl, seeing different planets together, letting us see the world through her eyes. there's a lot of my writing I'm proud of, but I'm most proud of the lines in this. because i get to describe in a way where i don't feel its redundant. because we're seeing it at the same time as she is. i also have so much fun each time i get to write him, and that, makes me happy.

[richeeduvie]

Some business adversary sending Baby flowers to piss Roman off because that will have him overthinking nonstop? Yummy

I like jealous and possessive Roman please 🙏

They would be an asshole. But, an asshole who have given us a completely jealous and unstable Roman Roy at the soul possibility that someone likes you.

Even then, the card attached to the bundle of lilies is vague, like it could be a thanks, a business-coded praise. But Roman's just focusing on how they aren't. Basic fucking roses. No, whoever this fucko is trying settle in your hole by denying the standard. Fucking-just pick roses!

"Come on, man. It's going to make the Roy Boy piss himself."

"He's going to find out it's you and you'll get a shitstain on your reputation with Waystar...and Co."

"I'm going with vague so I don't get my dick pulled by HR if the air of mystery escapes me. Not that it's effective with me, even though Roman Roy seeing 'your ass is addictive and I want to eat you out, also good work on that presentation I came to' would uh...put him on the news."

"Stick with 'thank you for everything you do.' Yeah?"

"I just said I would, fuck-"

You're confused as to why Roman would send you lilies. He knows your favorites are lotuses. Who it could be? Who knows.

"Who are you fucking?"

You sigh with a slight smile along your lips. You wish you could be thankful for the flowers, but now you'll have to deal with a harsh, bleeding Roman who won't accept any answer, any explanation or comfort until he realizes he needs it like he needs to breathe.

But you won't toot your own horn that much.

"You? I think, unless you have a twin. Shiv doesn't count-"

"Who have you been giving your ruined pussy to? You're a fucking whore, is batting eyelashes a talent for you or? Whatever it takes to get to the top."

"I was already on top last night."

Roman closes his eyes with a grip to a chair.

"Who did you flirt with recently? Business-bound slut. How have I not noticed your vagina has turned itself to a blackhole?"

He won't accept any comfort now, so you won't give it to him. It'll speed things up.

"Your cock has either grown forty inches or those custom dildos are doing the job. I don't know."

You take a sniff to the decorated lilies, pretending to not mind the way Roman tries to palm himself, but doesn't. He just looks hurt. And aroused.

And your senses in smell and sight break at the sound of the bouquet hitting the floor. There's a small crack.

"Roman, lovingly, what the fuck?"

He's casually slapped the flower vase to the floor, looking casual in the mouth, but harsh and needy in the eyes are brows.

You sigh, you'll speed it up for both of your sakes. It's not good for him to feel like this. Especially over something that means nothing.

You rub Roman's shoulder.

"What's wrong?"

Even in silence, Roman somehow gets more quiet. He's not looking at you, but his eyes are soft when he does.

"Who the fuck are these from?"

You kiss his temple.

"I don't know. Genuinely. I don't know who they're from. I haven't flirted with anyone and in fact, I don't think I've conversed with anyone I don't regular converse with in the past two weeks. It's probably an adversary fucking with you. If it was say...Tom or a an associate, I think they'd put their name on it."

"...Why would this be the thing to fuck with me?"

You look to where he doesn't look, to the flowers thrown about.

"I don't know if the reason is that obvious."

"It's not to me. But whoever sent those is going to get dirt and dick shoved down their throat."

You play with his hair. Lightly and lovingly. Selfishly.

"I'm betting on it."

[therealcocoshady]

Recovery - Chapter 31

Eminem x Reader Fanfiction

Summary : Dinner with Reader's Dad ends up being a nightmare.

Tags : Angst - Comfort

MARSHALL’S POV 

Y/N was pacing the room and her nerves were starting to rub off on him. Out of all the people he had ever met, she was the one whose stress was most communicative. With the energy she was giving, she could probably stress out the toughest, best-trained army negotiators. When she had told him that her father wanted to meet him, Marshall hadn’t freaked out. Being a Dad to someone his girlfriend’s age, he understood the idea of parents wanting to meet their children’s significant others. Sure, he hadn’t met a girlfriend’s family in a while, but he wasn’t too scared. The perspective of Y/N’s father being about his age made things less impressive. The way he saw it, it would just be a casual dinner and, worst comes to worst, he would have to state his intentions towards the man’s daughter : make her happy and support her. Not to toot his own horn, but he could think of worse boyfriends than him for anyone’s daughter. After all, he wasn’t a deadbeat, he had a job, money and he loved Y/N unconditionally. So he wasn’t too stressed out. At least, at the beginning. Because as they got closer to the fateful dinner, Y/N was starting to lose her grip. 

Stop stressing out, babe, he chuckled. It’s going to be fine. Plus, I know how to make a good impression. 

Sorry, she groaned. It’s just… You meeting my Dad, you know ? I can think of a thousand things that could go wrong. 

It’ll be fine, he said softly. Plus, he knows what to expect, right ? The fact that you told him you’re dating me and that he is willing to meet me has to be a good sign. 

Oh, he has no idea who you are, she said. 

Is that a family thing ? He chuckled. Like a collective decision not to know too much about me before meeting me ? 

No, I mean… I don’t know if he knows who Eminem is, actually, she said. He hates rap and hip-hop anyway. But as far as he knows, your name is Marshall and you’re american and… that’s about it. 

He opened his eyes wide. He wasn’t expecting that. Not that he was counting on his fame to woo Y/N’s dad, but he thought that the man having an idea of who he was meeting would play in his favor. At least, there wouldn’t be an element of surprise. Better yet, he could have been surprised in a good way, upon discovering that his daughter was not dating an asshole, as it was a common misconception about him. 

So he doesn’t know anything about my job, my age… ? Marshall asked. 

Hum… No, she said sheepishly. I wasn’t too sure how to break it to him on the phone… 

Ok, he sighed. I mean, it can still go well. Is there anything I should know about him ? Other than the fact he might despise what I do for a living ? 

You could still word it differently ? She suggested. And say that you’re an entrepreneur in the music industry ? I mean, you own a studio… 

Sure, he nervously chuckled. What else ? How do I make a good impression ? 

Well he’s already pissed off that he has to come to us for dinner, she pointed out. So we might want to have wine ready. 

It’s for his own good, he said. If we’re followed by the press, I’m not sure he would enjoy having paparazzi waiting outside of his place... 

I know, she said. But I think we might want to make it up to him with food and wine. And other than that… Hum… Don’t be too American, I guess ? 

What the fuck does that mean ? He asked. 

Look, my dad can be a bit of a snob, sometimes. Judgy, too… He thinks all American people are over the top and flashy. So maybe no chains or massive jewelry and something with a button wouldn’t hurt, I guess. 

Babe, oddly enough, I didn’t bring a shirt or a suit on tour with me, he pointed out with a smile. The best I can do is a sweater. 

Sweater it is, then, she said. And you should wear a belt. Like, properly. No ass on display. 

Alright, he chuckled. Though you usually like my ass on display… 

And no jokes, too, she said sternly. 

I’m not stupid, Y/N, he said. I’m not going to joke about our sex life in front of your father. 

No, I mean… He doesn’t really do jokes. At all. 

Now, he was definitely more stressed out and already bored. He already expected the culture shock, knowing that Europeans are a bit different from Americans on a few aspects. Thankfully, Y/N’s dad spoke English so that was one less thing to worry about. But regardless, it was shaping out to be incredibly boring. As far as he knew, her Dad was an accountant whose hobbies were literature and opera. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but he couldn’t really relate to him. 

The plan was to have dinner delivered in their penthouse suite, since going to her dad’s place or the restaurant would be too complicated. The dining room area was welcoming and, apparently, formal enough. Too much for his own liking, but apparently, the man enjoyed things with structure. Her father was about to arrive when Y/N was getting ready. She was dressed in a little navy dress that looked quite conservative. She was pretty, as usual, but he was used to her sporting a more casual look. Not to mention that she spent most of the time in his clothes anyway. 

I’m sorry, you didn’t mention that your Dad was a priest, he giggled. Why the fuck are you dressed like you’re going to church ? 

He’s a little formal, she said in an annoyed tone. 

He’s your father, he said. Why would he care what you wear to dinner ? It’s just us in the suite, you could be wearing PJs… 

I told you, Marsh, he’s a little strict, she shrugged. You know, I only started dressing casually when I came to America. Before that, I would never be caught dead wearing leggings and a hoodie.

Fine, he chuckled. Are we ready now ? 

I guess, she groaned. I just want to get it over with. 

He pulled her in for a kiss. He wanted to get over it too, and focus on the bigger picture : in two days, he would fly back to Detroit while she packed her things before joining him and,

after that, the fun would begin. He would actually have her by his side and get to experience life with the woman he loved. The idea was making his heart swell with joy, as well as the fact that his daughters were really happy for them. When he asked for their blessings, a couple of nights ago, they were nothing but supportive. He didn’t even need to plead his case : they could see what a breath of fresh air Y/N was for him. He had never thought about bringing a woman into his family, but he was so happy he had found her. Now that they were going to live together, he wanted nothing more than to give her the life she deserved and provide her with the safe space she needed. He knew the past few months had been trying for her, and he would be there for her as she let her mind and body recover. Caring for her had become second nature to him anyway, ever since they had met. 

Y/N received a call from reception, indicating that her father was here. He could see her anxiety levels rise once again, as he tried to give her a reassuring smile. He kissed her forehead before she went downstairs to meet her Dad, before bringing him into the room. While she was gone, he inspected himself in the mirror. He was dressed in jeans and a dark blue sweater. He had even trimmed his beard for the occasion. He looked rather random. That was the kind of look he usually donned for appointments like PTA or meetings, where he needed to be taken seriously and look like an adult, instead of the man-child he definitely was, dressed in jeans and hoodies, or tee-shirts with rap album covers on them. A couple of minutes later, his girlfriend came back to the room with a man that looked nothing like her. He assumed she took after her mother, because he couldn’t have guessed she was related to this man. He was rather tall and carried himself like a military man, with a stiff posture. He looked rather serious. No, gloomy was a more appropriate word. He wasn’t really one to judge solely on vibe, but he immediately felt ill at ease. One look at the man and he could tell the father was nothing like Y/N. In spite of her usual shyness, she exuded warmth and softness. A far cry from her dad, who seemed cold and distant. As soon as they got through the door, he went to them and shook his hand. 

Papa, this is Marshall, my boyfriend, Y/N said. Marsh, this is Jean, my father. 

Bonjour, Marshall said as they shook hands and made eye contact, deciding to try one of the three words of french his girl had taught him. 

Bonsoir, the man replied in a corrective tone. 

Marshall looked at Y/N, a bit lost. 

It means “good evening”, she explained. Bonjour is for the day. 

Oh, right, he said. Anyway, it’s nice to meet you, sir. 

Likewise, the man said in an emotionless voice. 

They went to sit in the living room area where Y/N had prepared a glass of wine for her father and soda for the both of them. 

I got your favorite wine, she said with a shy smile. 

Are the two of you not drinking with me ? He asked. 

I don’t drink, Marshall simply said. 

I don’t feel like drinking, Y/N said softly. 

He could tell she was uncomfortable, and he distinctly remembered her telling him that her father knew nothing about her addiction, recovery, nor her sobriety. She had always been a bit shy, but seeing how uncomfortable she was in the presence of the man who had raised her gave him red flags. Something felt off. Or at least, as a father, he would hate for his girls to be this tense around him. But then again, he understood that not everyone’s relationship with their parents was fun. 

Americans usually fail to enjoy wine properly, Jean pointed out. 

We actually have decent wine, you know ? Marshall said with a smile. 

Only because they come from french vines, the man replied. Are you sure you don’t want to try this, Marshall ? 

I’m good, he said. I don’t drink, for health reasons. 

He wasn’t ashamed of being sober. Usually, it was quite the contrary : he was proud of his journey and he had come far. But when meeting your girlfriend’s dad, saying you’re recovering from addiction makes you seem like a raging drug-addict and alcoholic, which isn’t exactly the best look. Jean nodded and understanding and they sipped on their beverages as they made small talk. 

So… Y/N told me downstairs that you are an entrepreneur ? The father asked, giving him his time to shine. 

I am, Marshall nodded. In the music industry, actually. 

I don’t know if she told you, but I am a big fan of music myself, Jean continued. What kind of business do you do ? 

Well I own a recording studio and a label, Marshall explained. There are a couple of other things, but I am mainly into recording, producing and songwriting. 

Have you been doing it for a long time ? 

About twenty-five years. 

He could see Jean’s stare intensify. 

How old are you exactly, Marshall ? He asked in an inquisitive tone. 

Fifty-two, Marshall replied as calmly as he could. 

He knew he looked a few years younger - thanks to genetics, healthy eating, exercising as well as a good skincare regimen prescribed by his daughters - but surely, his age couldn’t be such a surprise, right ? Or at least, that’s what he thought when he saw his girlfriend’s father’s face decompose. Jean glared at his daughter who immediately looked down. 

So, you’re into opera, right ? Marshall asked in an attempt to lighten the mood. 

Indeed, Jean said. What kind of music do you produce ? 

Mostly hip-hop, Marshall said. Though I’ve worked with artists of various horizons. 

Anything I might have heard ? 

Well, you might have heard some Eminem stuff, he said with a soft smile. 

Y/N threw him a panicked glance. The man in front of him might hate hip-hop but he still had to be honest. Hiding from his father-in-law that he was a big recording artist was probably not the best way to go and get his approval. Life had taught him that honesty was, by far, the best way to go. 

I have heard of him, Jean simply said. I cannot say I care for this type of music. 

I get it, that’s not for everyone, Marshall said with a shrug. 

It is that I don’t think it qualifies as proper music, the man continued. Does it even pay the rent ? 

Marshall tried his best not to roll his eyes. He had heard countless times that hip-hop is not actual music and he was sick of people failing to understand the artistry behind it. However, now was not the time to argue. The question about paying the rent was also incredibly stupid, in his opinion. The man was sitting in the penthouse suite of one of the most expensive hotels in Paris. Of course, it paid the rent. He didn’t want to be an asshole who flaunted his wealth, but the judgy look on the other man’s face was almost prompting him to list his assets. 

Well, it certainly bought the house, Marshall said with a forced smile. 

Alright. What brings you to Europe ? Jean asked. Business ? 

Yeah, Marshall said. I just finished the second part of my tour, actually. 

Your tour ? You are an artist too ? 

Dad, Y/N interjected. What Marshall means to say is that… He’s Eminem. 

Marshall smiled. At least that was clearer now. It was the first time he had ever had to disclose who he was in such a way. Jean turned to his daughter with a confused expression and said something in french. Y/N’s eyebrows were furrowed as she replied something, visibly uncomfortable. It was incredibly frustrating for him not to understand a word of what they were saying. From what he gathered, it wasn’t a very pleasant exchange. 

We should order our food, Y/N said after a while. 

Her expression was one of confusion and sadness. She seemed visibly hurt by something her father had said. He hated seeing her this way, but he also didn’t want to interfere. They ordered food from the room service and kept on making awkward small talk. As the meal arrived, they settled in the dining room. 

Forgive me for being so blunt, but I am rather disappointed, Jean said. 

What disappoints you ? Marshall asked. 

When I agreed to let Y/N study in America, I did not expect for her to end like this, he explained matter-of-factly. No one wants their daughter unemployed and making poor life decisions. 

He saw Y/N duck her head down. The remark was not aimed at him, at least not directly, but it stung. It was no wonder why she didn’t mention her father too often : from the looks of it, he was an ass. 

Ever since her mother’s death, I have raised her on my own and tried to instill good values in her. I certainly did not expect her to repay me by failing miserably to start a career and deciding to be some sort of potiche for a rapper. 

A what ? Marshall asked with his eyebrows furrowed. 

Potiche, Y/N repeated with a sad look on her face. It means “vase”. It refers to, hum… a woman who is basically a trophy wife. 

Marshall’s eyes darkened. He wasn’t necessarily expecting the man’s blessing - not that he cared too much, Y/N was an adult - but having a man his age insult his own daughter was wrong on so many levels. He tried really hard not to spit in the man’s face but it was getting harder by the minute. If he hadn’t gone to anger management classes and therapy, he probably would have thrown him out already. 

I mean, she just became a doctor, Marshall said tentatively. You must be kind of proud. 

The degree doesn’t mean much if she doesn’t find a job, Jean pointed out sternly. I guess she’s just too lazy. 

Not to contradict you, but I’ve actually seen her work on her dissertation, he said. Your daughter is really impressive. I think she deserves credit for her work. 

It’s not too hard when everything’s been handed to you, the father pointed out. Do you have children, Marshall ? 

I have, Marshall replied. Three girls, actually. They’re 31, 28 and 21. 

So I guess you understand the disappointment I’m facing, then. No one wishes for their daughter to fail her professional life and be in a relationship with someone who could be their father.

Y/N was staring at her plate, visibly on the verge of tears. He grabbed her hand under the table and interlaced their fingers. He stared at Jean, who had a cold expression on his face. Not approving of their relationship was one thing, but what kind of father could belittle his child in such a way ? 

Look, Marshall said, I understand where you’re coming from. If one of my daughters told me they were in a relationship with someone my age, I wouldn’t be too happy. In fact, I’d probably want to punch the man in the face. But I want you to know that I have good intentions when it comes to Y/N. I love her, I care about her and I want to make her happy. 

And, for my career, I’m going to send out applications as soon as I move in with Marshall, Y/N said. We have it figured out. 

You are not moving in with him, Jean said. 

Both him and Y/N turned their heads and stared at Jean. The way he said it sounded final. As if he were talking to a little girl. However, she was a grown woman, an adult and she didn’t need to ask for permission. In fact, the whole meeting was more of a courtesy rather than an actual obligation. Marshall would gladly remind him, but it was not his place and he knew it. His girlfriend said something to her father, in french. Her tone was soft, at first, as it was most of the time when she talked to people, but as the conversation kept on going, it got more animated. Jean was talking loudly and he could see his girl having trouble being assertive. However, she said something that prompted her father to slap her, before screaming something. Before he could even think about what he was doing, Marshall got up and threw his fist in the other man’s face. It was bad enough that he was making Y/N feel bad, but he would not get away with hitting her. 

YOU PIECE OF SHIT ! Marshall screamed as he grabbed him by the collar, forcing him to get up and shoved him against the nearest wall. DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE TOUCH HER! 

The man was taller than him but he was in such a fit of rage that, unless his opponent was Mike Tyson, he could probably take out anyone. He kept on screaming, out of his mind, as the other man yelled as well, trying to get out of his hold. Lucky for him, Jean wasn’t much of a fighter. He was firmly holding him by the collar, slapping him just like he had slapped Y/N. He kept on screaming and slapping, telling him what a piece of shit he was, and how undeserving of being a father he was. 

You’re fucking lucky your daughter’s in the room, Marshall finally spat. I wouldn’t beat up someone in front of their child, but I swear to God, if I see your motherfucking face one more time, I will fuck you up ! 

When he finally let go of Jean, the man addressed his daughter, who was still sitting at the table, in a state of shock. He yelled something in French and was about to approach her when Marshall intervened between the two of them. The man yelled something he couldn’t quite understand, still in French, before storming out of the room. Marshall closed his eyes for a second, to regain some composure. His heart was pounding in his chest. He had not been in a state of rage in a long time and the sensations felt foreign. He could feel his cheeks burning. He took a few deep breaths to try and soothe himself. If he didn’t, he might as well chase him down the corridor and strangle him. Seeing him slap Y/N had brought back memories of being abused as a child. His mother had never hit him too much, but the same couldn’t be said of some of her boyfriends. He had always sworn that if he witnessed it, he would intervene and make sure the person regretted their action. Didn’t matter who or when. 

When he opened his eyes, they landed on Y/N, who was silently sobbing, face in her hands. For a quick second, he had almost forgotten about her. He immediately went to her, to make sure she was alright. He kneeled by her side and tried to grab her hands, so that he could examine her face. As he tried to touch her, she jerked and looked at him with terror on her face. Suddenly, it hit him : he was the one that scared her. The realization was enough to make his heart sink, as he took a step back. 

Please don’t touch me, she whispered. Please. 

Ok, he said softly as he held his hands up. I won’t touch you. I just need to make sure you’re alright, baby. 

Tears were still streaming down her face and her chest was heaving. He had to fight against his own urges to touch her, wipe her tears and take her in his arms. He was about two feet away from her but it felt too big a distance. He looked at her cheek : the slap hadn’t left a mark. Evidently, it hadn’t been too violent. On a physical aspect, at least. He knew full well the psychological effects of such a gesture. 

I didn’t mean to scare you, baby. I’m so sorry, he said softly. 

Who are you ?! She blurted out. Wh-What… What did you do ?! 

He sighed and looked at her face. It was crumbling, filled with doubt and uncertainty. She had never looked at him like this before. Sure, their first argument was one to remember, and she had certainly looked at him with hatred and disgust, but this look was different. It was a look of fear. 

He hit you, Y/N, he said. 

You hit him ! You hit my father ! 

Yes I did, he replied sternly. No father, hell, no parent should ever raise a hand on their child. 

It’s… my fault, she said. I said something he didn’t like. I-I shouldn’t have, really. This one is on me. 

So what ? He asked. I’m sorry but that doesn’t justify shit, Y/N. I’ve raised three kids, four if you count Nate. Do you know how many times they’ve been insufferable and thrown shit in my face ? A lot. But I can tell you I have never, ever lifted a finger on them. That shit is not ok. 

She looked down and buried her face in her hands once again. He wasn’t sure if he should approach her or not. She seemed so distressed, he decided against it, although it broke his heart. After a minute or so, she got up and made her way to the bedroom. He followed her, making sure not to be too close. 

Baby, talk to me, he said softly. 

Please, no, she said. I need… I need a minute. 

He nodded and she went to the bathroom. He heard the lock click. He sighed and sat on the bed. He absolutely did not regret his actions. For all he cared, Jean could sue him, he didn’t give a shit about it. What worried him was what Y/N would think of him. The last thing he wanted was to be seen as someone violent by the person he loved the most. He heard the water running and figured she would take some time. He went back to the living room area and grabbed a can of coke. God knew he needed a sugary drink. The wine bottle was still on the table, half full, as well as the plates of their meal. To be fair, he wasn’t hungry anymore. He sat on the couch and let his head fall back against the headrest as he tried to think of how he would possibly navigate the situation with Y/N. About forty-five minutes later, she came out of the bathroom, wearing her PJs. 

Good night, she called from the bedroom. 

We should talk, first, he said before joining her. 

She seemed a little less distraught, though she still had a frown on her face. She was getting under the cover when he sat on the edge of the bed. 

How are you feeling, babe ? He asked carefully. 

I don’t know, she said. I’m not even sure how I am supposed to feel. 

Did he hurt you ? How is your cheek ? 

I-It’s fine, she said. I’m just… I don’t even know how to say it. But you… You were… Terrifying. 

I am so sorry, my love, he said. I didn’t mean to scare you. But I saw him hit you, and I lost it. 

It wasn’t you, she said. It was someone who looks like you, but it’s not you, Marshall. I’ve never seen you like this. You’re not this angry, scary person. 

Well it was me, he sighed. I hate that you had to see me like this. I hate that side of me. I used to be this very angry person but I worked on it. It takes a lot for me to get angry like this, you know ? 

You were so intimidating, she said. Suddenly, you were yelling, a-and you were slapping my dad… And I couldn’t help but think “that’s not him, that’s not my boyfriend, that’s not the man I am moving in with”... 

He sighed and took his head in his hands. He said nothing for a couple of seconds before looking at her. 

I am so sorry, Y/N. I keep on saying that, but it’s true. I need you to know that I would never do that shit to you, he said. I know it must have been very scary for you, especially because you have never seen me like this before, but I want you to know that I would never, ever scream at you like this, let alone lay a finger on you. 

I know, she whispered. But… He is my father. And you hit him. 

He is your father, he replied. And he hit you. And I am not ok with that. I am not ok with anyone hitting their child, ever. I am not ok with him hitting you, and especially not in front of me. I… Fuck. Has he always been violent like this ? Was he abusive to you ? 

No, she said. He is not like that. I mean, yes he is, but he usually isn’t that bad. 

Meaning ? 

He has always been really tough on me, she said. Really strict. But he never really hit me. Maybe once, when I was a teenager. But it’s never been a habit, you know ? But it’s my fault, I swear. 

How is that your fault ? He asked. How is your father hitting you, your fault ? 

Because I stood up to him, she said sheepishly. And I shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t respectful and I shouldn’t have. 

What did you say ? 

I said… I said that I wasn’t asking for his opinion and that I was old enough to do whatever I wanted, she explained. And then, he said that I was his biggest disappointment and I should be thankful for everything he did for me. And when I said I didn’t care he… he slapped me. So you see, it’s my fault. 

He shook his head and sighed. Her thinking it was her fault was wrong on so many levels. At least, he was relieved to know that he hadn’t been violent to her when she was growing up. Everyone was not that lucky. However, the fact that a fifty-something man was not able to handle the fact that his grown-ass daughter was making her own choices and slapped her when she stood up for herself was frankly appalling. So was the fact that Y/N didn’t seem to realize that. 

Arguing with your parents, it happens, he said. Even if you had been super disrespectful, which I don’t think you were, him laying a finger on you would not be ok, babe. And I’m not even going to get started on the fact that he’s been belittling you all evening. 

He was always like this, you know ? She explained. I was never good enough. But I suppose it was his way of striving for excellence. He wanted the best for me. We don’t come from money, you know. When he was growing up, he was dirt-poor. We don’t have much, we’re typical middle-class, but he worked hard for everything and he was able to give me a good chance in life. And he single-handedly raised me. I owe him everything. He is my father. He is literally my only family. 

It’s kind of his job, though, he said. As a parent, that’s literally what he is supposed to do. And I’m sorry but the fact that he comes from poverty doesn’t justify shit. I come from a poor, dysfunctional family too, I should know. I’m a father, I understand the wish for your kids to do good, but that will never be an excuse to behave the way he behaved. 

She ducked her head down. He knew his words weren’t exactly what she wanted to hear, but he’d rather tell her the truth. 

I can’t move back, she whispered. 

What ?! He asked. Of course you can. And you should. 

Marshall, no, she said. Before he left he literally told me that if I moved to Detroit, I would have to forget him and his support. 

His support ?! Oh yeah, clearly he’s the most supportive person ever, Marshall said sarcastically. Before you went back to France, we knew each other for a whole year. Shall I remind you of all the times he came to visit you ? Of all the times he was here for you, during your recovery or after you were assaulted ? Oh wait, that’s right : NONE. Literally zero. That man has no idea what you’ve been through and he doesn’t see all that you’ve accomplished. You don’t get to call yourself “Dad” just because you helped make a baby. It takes more than that. So why the hell should you care about his so-called support ?! 

Because I don’t have a family ! She cried. Marshall, you are the love of my life and I would follow you anywhere. And I told you I don’t care about marriage and children if I get to be with you and I meant it, but I can’t do it if it means that I am losing the only family that I have, the most important person in my life. 

What kind of father would do that to his daughter ?! Do you even realize how wrong that is, Y/N ? He asked as he was starting to get worked up. 

I want to be with you, Marshall. I do. But… 

No « but », he said firmly. That’s bullshit and you know it. If anything, that’s one more reason why you should move. Are you seriously going to live with him after that ?! 

I can’t lose my only family, she cried. You’re a family man. You understand, right ? 

What I understood long ago is that you get to choose your family and who is part of it, he said. Talia and Jamal are your family. And I can be your family too. But even if that weren’t the case… would you really be willing to turn down opportunities to be happy and live your life just to please your father ? 

After all, that’s all it came down to : her independence and her happiness. If she told him she’d be happier in Paris, he wouldn’t mind. It would hurt him, crush him, of course, but he would understand. But judging by what he saw tonight, her sudden reluctance had nothing to do with happiness and everything to do with her fear of disappointing her Dad. She was sobbing uncontrollably and it broke his heart. All he wanted was to make her sadness go away. If he had the choice, he’d rather take her pain so that she could be free of it. 

All I’m saying is… don’t make a decision tonight, alright ? He said softly. Just like you needed to think before accepting to move back, you need to think about it. And you need to put yourself first. Not me, not your Dad, not anyone else. You. 

I don’t know, she whispered in a croaky voice.  

Come here, he said as he gestured for her to come in his arms. 

She looked at him and had a second of hesitation, but she got out of the covers and nestled against him. He engulfed her in his embrace. He could feel her tears on his neck. They stayed like this for a while, not talking, not moving either. 

I love you, he whispered in her ear. I’m so sorry you didn’t get the evening you deserved. 

I love you too, she said quietly. Thank you for tonight. You really tried to make a good impression on my Dad. 

Didn’t work but… Yeah, he shrugged. I tried. 

I’m sorry he didn’t like you, she added. I wish he would have given you a chance. I tried telling him that you make me really happy, you know ? 

I know, babe, he said softly. I don’t need his approval or any blessing from him, though. It would have been nice if we had gotten along, for sure, but as long as I have you, I don’t care. I’m good. Yours is the only approval I need. 

I would be crushed if your family hated me, she pointed out. I don’t know how you do it. 

Mostly, it comes down to being an ass and not giving a fuck what people think, he chuckled. You, on the other hand, care too much for your own good. But it’s ok because my family likes you. Let’s look at it this way : it’s 50% of our families that approve of us, that’s not bad, right ? Plus, if you consider the number of family members… Odds are in our favor, you know ? There’s only one of him and a lot of people in my family. And I know you like good statistics. 

She chuckled for the first time all night. Her soft laugh was music to his ears. Even though her face was puffy from crying, she looked quite adorable and he could not refrain from kissing her temple. He stared into her big doe eyes and smiled at her. 

Let’s try and save our evening, ok ? He offered. We could order some dessert and watch the Office. 

I’m not really hungry, she said. And you hate the Office. 

Hate is a strong word.

You said you hate Michael and he makes you cringe, she pointed out. 

He does, but I know that Jim and Pam make your heart melt, that Jim’s pranks make you laugh your ass off and that you have a soft spot for Dwight, he said with a smile. So we can watch it. I know it’s one of your comfort shows. 

You remember ? She asked surprised. 

I do, he said. Six months was not enough to forget about you. Six lifetimes wouldn’t even do it. You’re still all over the house, you know ? I still have your movies in my Netflix account, bottles of that non-alcoholic wine you love in the pantry and your perfume may or may not be in my bathroom. 

Really ? She asked with an emotional smile. 

Really, he said. You’ll be right at home. I promise. 

He took her hand in his and squeezed it. He had to convince her to fly back to Detroit with him. For her sake, as well as his. They cuddled in bed, watching the stupid TV show. He could tell she was bothered and her mind was wandering, but at least she smiled at the lame jokes. Most of his attention was on her, as well as trying to find ways to get her to make the right choice. He needed a plan, and he needed it fast. 

[sinfulseashell]

Question for Y!Bonten how could they react if their darling escaped from them and started a new life with someone else?

Y!Mikey: Of course the male would absolutely go berserk if his darling was ever to think that anyone else would treat them better than he could, but fear nearly consumed him as he thought for a moment looking over at the host with an icy glare. “Escaping is one thing, but having the audacity to find someone else? Well…let’s just say there would be two less bastards on this god forsaken earth.”

Y!Sanzu: “Oh wow, well I guess one idiot plus another can make a deathly combination!” He cackled. “How fucking dumb could they be to find someone else, but let’s give the benefit of the doubt that my darling had the gall to have another person even touch them the way I do.” His snarl twisted into a demonic grin, “I will show my darling why they would regret stepping foot out of their haven…let’s just say the show would be more gruesome than any horror movie could ever show legally.”

Y!Bonten: Each male expressed a disgusted feature as they shook their heads in unison.

Y!Koko: “So we all agree that Sanzu is never allowed to come these interviews when it comes to murder.”

Host: “Wait…none of you said anything…also…all of you commit murder?”

Y!Rin: “Ok one, we don’t need words to communicate, I know you noticed the silence after his comment. Two, we commit murder because it’s necessary yet this sociopath commits murder as a fucking hobby.”

Y!Sanzu: He emits a boisterous laugh while wiping tears from his eyes, “Ah…it’s true. I have a scrapbook as well.” He smiles happily.

Y!Rin: “Do I need to say anything more?”

Host: “Oooookay…noted.”

Y!Takeomi: “Well that was unsettling…anyways. I wouldn’t say that I would be happy my darling started their life over.” He gritted his teeth at the thought that his darling could find someone else so damn easily…replacing him. The thought made his stomach churn, “As if replacing me would be the best option for them…I would murder anyone who would try to take them away from me.” He growled.

Y!Ran: “Well the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree. Looks like you and Sanzu have so much in common, makes sense why the two of you are related.”

Y!Sanzu: “How dare you say something so fucking disgusting in my presence! No fucking brother of mine, as far as I know I don’t have family.” He hissed.

Y!Takeomi & Host: 😐

Y!Koko: “We’re not here to discuss their family drama, wait…hatred? Disgust? Whatever. We are not here to speak on that. Now as for me, the fact my darling would even think that someone could afford the lifestyle I provide well,” He chuckles while shaking his head, small chuckling turns to laughter. “Ah…ah ok, ok,” Koko clears his throat to continue. “Besides my awesome joke, I doubt that my darling would even survive without me.”

Y!Rin: “Look Im tired. So I’ll make this quick…whoever the dumbass would be I’ll make sure that have a slow painful death while I take my darling back to have the punishment they deserve.” Bringing himself to stand the male makes his way to the door and leaves.

Y!Ran: “Dont mind him, Rin is just tired from taking care of his darling all night. They were sick.” Ran pouts. “Isn’t that so cute though!”

Y!Rin: “SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP!” He screams from the other side of the door.

Y!Ran: The male smiles as he turns his attention back to the host, “What would I do if my darling escaped and found someone else? Hmmm, well murder would be first on my list and once I get rid of them then I would make sure my darling was well.” He hums happily, “-but once I know they are fine then I’ll remind them of why they belong to me.” He smirked menacingly.

Y!Mochi: “I dont believe my darling would have a reason to leave. No to toot my own horn or anything, but these guys are monsters compared to me.” He huffed.

Y!Sanzu: “Quit bitching and answer the goddamn question.”

Y!Mochi: “Fine. If my darling were to ever find someone else…even though I know they wouldn’t. I wouldn’t murder the person, but I would purposely break each and every bone in their body enough to keep them conscious throughout the entire time that way their screams of agony could echo off the walls having their cries be the last thing they hear.”

Y!Koko: “Dear god. We all need therapy.” He spoke while pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head.

Y!Kakucho: His gaze stays focused on the floor before him as if lost in thought when he hears the host call his name it brings him back to reality as he sighs, “I wouldn’t kill them. Or hurt the person that they are with. I want my darling to be happy then I would want them to stay happy, but…a part of me would take them back with me…I can’t…I just can’t be without them…they mean everything to me…” he sighs in frustration. “If I take my darling back and the other person tries to stop me…well then I would have no choice but to kill them.”

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A2 part 17

Synopsis: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.

Previous part

Part 17: now what?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Holy Hell toots, you kissed the big scary Radio Demon?" Angel came bursting through the healer's front door.

I casted wind to slam it shut behind him and made myself bigger with my wings extended. "How the hell do you know?"

"I overheard Alastor and Husker arguing," he answered, slightly taken aback at my display.

I turned away from the white and pink Demon and ran my claws along my head, the tips clicking against my horns. Vivian was at my side with a hand on my back. She, Vilcin, and Althea had just managed to coax the same revelation out of me before Angel came in.

"Is this a bad thing?" he asked.

"Yes it's a bad thing!" I spun to face him again. "I got manipulated! I fell for it. I fell for his stupid trick. And I knew what he was doing and fell for it anyways."

"How do you know it was a trick?" He held his hands up in mock surrender. "I mean, maybe he was actually serious."

"Because I saw his memory." I sat in one of the soft chairs and dropped my head in my hands. "I saw him talking to Rosie about how our connection was getting stronger. And how if it was strong enough then I could control my magic and he could feed off it."

"Oh."

There was a moment of silence. I then stood up and paced in a circle at wicked speed. "I'm so angry! At him and at myself." I let out a struggled noise and pulled at my hair. "I thought I was getting better!"

"Was that the only memory you saw?" Althea asked. My trio of friends stood near each other still, unsure of how to help me. "Perhaps that was a memory that happened awhile back. Maybe he has had a change of heart since then."

"He's the fucking Radio Demon. He's not capable of loving anyone." I knew I spoke lies as soon as it had come out. I went silent and fell into the chair again. He loved his mother and sister dearly. Maybe after so many years of living without them, he had forgotten how to love someone.

"Hey." Althea knelt beside me, a gentle hand on my leg. Her green hair was a stark contrast with the dark flooring; it naturally drew my eyes to her. "Maybe anyone can learn. Even him."

"You learned how to love Reagan," Vivian chipped in. Her lamb ears swayed as she moved to kneel on the other side of me. "You were a brutal ring fighter. But now you love and dote on all the children."

"Maybe you should look further in his memories," Althea suggested, "see if there's any other conversations. Feel what he's feeling. It's the least he can let you do."

"I don't know."

There was a long moment of silence.

"So what'd it feel like?" Angel asked.

****

"This woman doesn't know how to stay off my nerves." Alastor rubbed his aching forehead. After my disappearance into the haven, he paid Rosie another visit.

"Love isn't trifling," she answered. "I must say though, I'm not sure why she's different than your other female acquaintances. You've never not hit it off with a lady before."

"She's not your typical woman, I suppose." He leaned his chin on the back of his hand and stared off at the window. "Her attitude has always been a problem. Perhaps it comes from her experience."

"She was a caged animal for most of her life," Rosie agreed, taking a sip of the hot tea she made. Alastor had yet to touch his.

"I have done what I can to show I enjoy her company. Why does she not believe me?"

"You two didn't have the greatest of relationships at first," she pointed out, "Not to mention everything she had to deal with when it came to mind magic and her curse."

"Yet our relationship has changed significantly in the past year. It's...annoying," he lifted a single claw from the armchair, "that she rejected my advance when she herself wasn't showing signs of distaste." He paused, eyes flickering up to Rosie's briefly before looking back at the window. "Perhaps my performance was lacking."

Rosie let out a laugh, causing him to pin his ears back in a growl. "Oh goodness, Alastor, I don't think that's the case. If it makes you feel any better, it doesn't seem like she has much experience in that field either."

It did make him feel slightly better. "I'm unsure how to move forward from here."

"She likes honesty." Rosie calmed her laughing and, putting her cup down, walked over to Alastor's chair. "Perhaps it's time you let her into that green mind of yours," she gently poked the side of his head and he leaned away. "Let her see how you truly feel."

He sank further into the chair. "This is stupid."

"This is love, darling."

"Surely this isn't how things typically go."

"You two aren't very typical, nor is your situation."

He tapped his claws. "Blast this woman," he mumbled.

****

By the time my cravings came back, I wasn't ready to deal with Alastor just yet. I had spent two days in Althea's healer hut just to avoid him. On the second day the cravings hit hard and I was curled in a ball for most of the day. Our deal had ensured that I wouldn't be able to live without his blood, without him. I had been tricked again.

Veins squeezing painfully tight, I trudged up the hill to the house. I felt his presence long before I touched the door and slammed it shut.

"Alastor!" I yelled for him. He manifested in the living room a moment later.

"You called." He wore his usual wicked smile.

"I'm still angry at you but the cravings came back," I stated, immediately getting down to business. I had a hand on my chest, nails digging painfully into my skin.

"I understand, darling." He leaned his cane against the fireplace and rolled up his jacket sleeve and the one underneath it. How many layers did he need? "Do accept my apology on the matter."

"Not yet." I buried the fear that was threatening to choke me as I crossed the room.

"I understand." He nodded, offering his exposed arm. He was being uncharacteristically cooperative, but maybe he was trying to make amends. My mouth began to water at the prospect of his sweet blood.

I slowly grabbed his wrist and summoned all the anger I could to bite down harshly. He let out a grunt as my teeth pierced his skin. His black blood soothed the itching in my throat and my veins slowly stopped seizing. My anger died as my body relaxed.

He grabbed my opposite shoulder and pulled so my back was against his chest. My teeth were still in his skin as he pressed that arm harder into my mouth, effectively pinning my head against him. His other arm was around my torso so my claws couldn't reach up to do any damage. I tried yelling but my jaw remained locked in place.

"Now that you're silent, it is my turn to speak." His voice was light but firm. "I understand you are angry with me because you believe I am manipulating you. To a degree, you were correct." I bit down harder and it caused him to wince. "But I understand now that I was merely fooling myself. I greatly enjoyed dancing with you that night. I find myself wanting to be around you all the time. And it infuriates me that Lucifer has permission to look through your mind while I am not allowed to do more than touch you. Even that one is debatable."

Without warning, his presence wrapped around mine and pulled me in his mind. Memories popped up in front of me. Memories of him watching me, close or from afar. I could see myself watching the children on the shore, tending to a crying child, talking with my friends, and reading by the fire after our afternoon sessions.

He also showed his actions that I never saw. Actions like soothing a nightmare after the soul shadow incident or attempting to touch my shoulder or back, but retracting it a second later. I saw the night we danced and felt a strange mix of nervousness and comfort. He looked briefly at my lips right before we kissed.

I blinked back to the dim living room. I had long stopped drinking his blood and now spit and blood were dripping off my chin.

"I am quite infatuated by you. I have grown accustomed to your presence, and dare I say I am not sure how to live comfortably without it. You send a thrill up my spine." He used magic to send warmth up my back as a visual. "I ask that you believe me when I say I want to be closer with you."

The confession left me dumbfounded. Everything was still and the only sound came from my breath on his skin. I could feel his chest rise and fall on the backside of my head. Did he always breathe that fast?

Eventually, I tugged my arm out and he finally released me. I took my teeth out of his skin and turned to face him. He grimaced at the sight of his spit covered arm and used magic to clean it up. I did the same with my chin.

"I don't know how to feel," I admitted, his ears quirked back. "I just...I don't..." I rubbed my arm and watched one of my foot claws scratch the carpet. Poor Niffty was always fixing the holes I was putting in it.

He bowed low like the night we danced. "Then I will allow you the time and space to think." His shadow melted with him and he slipped back up to his room. The room felt colder.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

Nooooo, but I want him to be closer not further away

[orange-orchard-system]

Got a hate ask on my other blog (funnier-as-a-system) today. I'm not gonna respond to it directly, but I'm gonna go over it fully just as an example of why I don't take anti-endos or sysmeds seriously and find them to be just bullying assholes who don't know what they're talking about. Apologies for the rare discourse post, but I felt it would be useful to have a personal example I can point to if I ever get any more asks than I already have about why I block anti-endos and sysmeds and don't want them on my blogs.

[ID: A screenshot of an anonymous ask, which reads: ""Systems" aren't real. Please stop being ableist against people with DID and our struggles. Pretending to be one of us while simultaneously mocking us makes you look like a piece of shit. Also, DID isn't fucking funny, you're just cruel and ableist. Go see a psychiatrist, get your personality disorders and Munchausens taken care of, and stop pretending to have DID when you don't. We don't need you, our community is better off without teenagers faking DID as a meme. To be honest, I wish you and literally everyone like you were more likely to kill yourself as someone with a real mental illness, because you don't deserve to be alive if this is what you're doing with your life. You're just a delusional bully and neo-nazi" ./ end ID]

Starting from the top, apparently anyone with DID who's ever described themselves as a system is faking now. Nevermind that it's been a term in psychology and the community for decades now! All systems are fake!

I have DID. I've said as much many times. Not that I think this person would consider this a counterargument, but I feel it deserves restating considering a fair amount of my posts are specifically about my DID and managing the symptoms of it.

If I want to find humor in my own disorder, I'm going to. I'm not going to resign myself to misery and self-hate just to please some randos on the Internet. I crawled my way out of the pit of self-hate and am not just gonna jump in there again just to avoid a couple asks and assholes. And I'd make a point here about systems that don't come from trauma or aren't disordered, but what's the point of that when they think literally all systems are fake?

Ohoho! Disableism towards other mental disorders! Isn't the irony sweet?

Not to toot my own horn, but I just love the lack of awareness when it comes to "we don't need you." No, I guess you don't need me... but you'll be going without the work I've done both online and offline to teach people about dissociation and plurality. Not to mention the terms I've coined that make people feel seen, the experiences I've talked about that make people feel less alone, the building of spaces to let others talk about their own problems and experiences, and the general promotion I've done of plural representation in media. No, you don't need me, but I've been doing work to assist the DID and wider plural communities for years now. And what have you been doing? Sending hate asks to people with DID for being too happy?

I'm an adult. I've mentioned before that I go to university and have a job. Seems like even online, I can't escape the assumption that I'm a teenager, smh. Also, I'm much more worried about the teenagers you might be sending this to than any kind of unquantifiable harm a couple teenagers faking DID could do, considering how clearly you wish to do harm with your words. Especially considering the next few sentences...

Oh, so we're just moving onto blatant suicide baiting and admitting you want systems to die. Got it. Totally not a bigot, right.

Wait... "Real mental illnesses"? Didn't you just accuse me of having several earlier? Or do personality disorders and Munchausen Syndrome not count? (Also, do they think being suicidal is a requirement to be mentally ill? They know not all disorders or presentations of disorders involve suicidality, right?)

Well, you got the delusional part right (which, side note, do you think it's impossible for people to have both DID and psychosis? Big yikes even if no, but that's what these asks always seem to imply), but I think this post might be the closest anyone can call "bullying", considering I'm not giving you an opportunity to respond as I tear down your argument. But maybe the definition of peer abuse changed to *checks notes* running a blog talking about plurality in a positive manner since I last checked.

These people do know what a Neo-Nazi is, right? They know what a Nazi is? Because it feels like people just use it as a stand-in for "general asshole" when it means a specific sort of ideology and bigotry. Ironic that they'd be so pissed about "mockery" and treating serious topics "as a meme", but then they go and misuse a term for a very dangerous kind of ideology and person.

Alright, I think I got that out of my system. Please be careful out there, guys! It feels like the number of hate asks I've seen people get has been going up. I'm in a stable enough place to make a demonstration out of this, but don't push yourself to have a snappy comeback or write essays responding to these assholes if you don't think you're up for it. Hell, I rarely write things like this myself, I just chose this ask to respond to because it was such a clear example of how hypocritical and foolish this particular brand of assholes is that I couldn't pass up the opportunity to break it down.

[darkfictionjude]

Tbh I wouldn't be interested in a open relationship I think, honestly I'm mostly on the fence about it, but I don't think I would be comfortable with it, I think with a poly relationship it would be fine for me tho. so I've I concluded that I probably shouldn't romance carmen on my main MC, but then that got me thinking, those anons do know that they could just not romance carmen if it isn't comfortable for them and that there's other ROs and the fact if they don't find anyone interesting they could just not romance anyone at all or they could also just not play the IF, like no one's holding a gun to those anon's heads saying that they need to romance carmen right?

You get it ♥️

Anyway you can always lean back on Sam’s route, even though they’re not an RO you can chose to be in love with them and have had a fulfilling emotional and sexual relationship. No matter what that relationship even though not romantic like the others is actually important for Luce’s arc also not to toot my own horn but you can just also play for the story I think it’s gonna be a good one

[boasamishipper]

tagged by @film-in-my-soul and @icemankazansky - thanks guys!! ❤️❤️❤️

Everyone deserves to toot their own horn and be proud of their work! So, this tag game is fairly simple.

Promote 5 works that you're really proud of and share a little about why you're so proud of them! Then tag as many people as you like. You can reblog this post and add on to it (why not create a giant reclist to throw around?) or steal this header (and border if you like) and make your own post.

tagging @bornforastorm @lookforanewangle @apartmentsmoke @maverickcalf @saltyfilmmajor @hacash @academicgangster @onekisstotakewithme and anyone else who sees this and wants to do it

Make A Wrong One Right

Top Gun, Iceman Kazansky/Maverick Mitchell, Goose Bradshaw & Maverick Mitchell

Maverick makes a wish and wakes up thirty years in the past. He reacts accordingly.

I've written a lot of Top Gun fics (sixty-three, to be precise, which is insane all on its own) but this fic is far and away the one I'm most proud of. Not only did I get to throw in all my favorite things (angst with a happy ending!! time travel!! magical realism!! back to the future references!!), I got the chance to explore in a more subtle way just how much Mav loves Ice, and tackle fun existential questions like, Would you change the past if it meant you might lose the future you love? And I feel like I balanced all of the above and stuck the landing really well! (Honestly, the whole story was worth writing just for the bit in chapter three where Mav calls Ice 'baby' without thinking and Ice bluescreens so hard he drops what he's holding.)

there's a raging fire in my heart tonight

Top Gun&MCU, Iceman Kazansky/Maverick Mitchell, Carol Danvers/Maria Rambeau, Carol Danvers & Iceman Kazansky, Iceman Kazansky & Tony Stark, MCU/Coherent Storytelling

“Carol, you can’t bring a civilian into this—” “Civilian?” The temperature in the room seems to drop twenty degrees as Ice steps forward, flinty-eyed and deadly serious. “I’m a captain. And I earned my rank, which is more than I can say for you, Rogers. Thanos killed my husband. You want to stop me from helping you out, you’re going to have to shoot me.” Silence stretches out, long and fraught with tension. Then Stark laughs out loud, and everyone turns to look at him. “What?” he says. “I like this guy.”

This was the first Top Gun fic I ever published, and the first Top Gun fic I wrote on my own. (At the time, I was working on baby, baby, i'd get down on my knees for you with the fantastic @academicgangster, without whom I never would have gotten into Top Gun or on the Tom Cruise train at all.) Naturally my first foray into this fandom ended up being this chaotic, complicated beast of a fic, where I wrote my faves Iceman Kazansky and Tony Stark and Carol Danvers side by side, fixed all my issues with Avengers: Endgame, and gave everyone the happy ending they deserved (especially after all the additional angst I put them through). I had a blast writing this fic and rambling about all the details with Cain (without her support this fic would never have left our tumblr DMs). There were a lot of plot points to juggle, and I managed to juggle them all. So though I've definitely grown as a writer in the (oh god) five years since, I still look back on this fic very fondly, and very proudly. And who knows, maybe someday I'll go back to this series and write more of Ice accidentally acquiring a son in Tony Stark and a granddaughter in Morgan. (Famous last words, I know.)

Judge Leon AU

Night Court (1984) / Night Court (2023), Dan Fielding/Harry Stone, Dan Fielding & Leon, Olivia Moore/Donna "Gurgs" Gurganous, Neil Valluri/Gabby

When his court-assigned public defender quits on his first night as an arraignment judge at Manhattan Criminal Court, Leon decides to reach out to his old foster father, Harry Stone, for advice. He finds Harry's widower, Dan Fielding, instead.

shot:

chaser:

I could not tell you for the life of me why the hands down angstiest fics I've ever written ended up being for an 80s sitcom whose plotlines include a ventriloquist's dummy committing suicide and my blorbo getting so horny he had to fuck a firehose about it, but here we are!! Over sixty-four thousand words later!!

In all seriousness, though, I'm extremely proud of this series. I have a lot of issues with New Night Court (I have a post in my drafts about that), namely that it lacks the edge and darkness that made the original so good, and this series gave me the opportunity to restore that edge and really make us feel Harry's loss, as well as the loss of almost all the other main cast members. I get to be goofy (a man holds the gang hostage on the advice of members of his favorite subreddit) and I get to be angsty (delve deeply into Dan's low self-worth and depression and grief post-Harry's death) and in all the spaces between, I get to write about how much Harry and Dan loved each other (and develop Leon and Dan's growing bond), and I do it all very, very well. (Certainly better than the NNC writers. Let me into the writers' room, guys!! Help me help you!!)

Austin Alone

9-1-1 Lone Star, Billy Tyson/Owen Strand

After the reopening of the 126, Billy and Owen give being friends with benefits a try. Inconvenient feelings ensue. / Season 3 AU, Owen-centric.

I co-wrote this fic with the lovely @lilalbatross while season 3 was still airing, and not only were we so in tune with the characters and the show that our fic accidentally predicted the future (exploration of Owen's abandonment issues! Owen getting trapped in a collapsed building!), but this fic set my standards so high that now the show can no longer reach it. (To be fair, this is largely because Lone Star decided to become the Tarlos and Wyatt Show above all else, but that's a rant for another day.) I'm proud as hell of this fic for a lot of reasons - I got Billy and Owen's voices down pat, put them in mortal peril that was realistic to the show, and wrote some banger lines of dialogue and prose that made me take honest to god victory laps around my house. The entirety of (the very long) chapter 6 might be some of my best work of all time.

For A Minute There I Lost Myself

Ted Lasso, Nathan Shelley & Original Male Character(s), Nathan Shelley & Ted Lasso, Nathan Shelley & Rupert Mannion

Nathan Shelley and the road to redemption.

[sigh] Really it's such a shame that Ted Lasso never got a season three and so we never got to see Nate grow and thrive at West Ham and bond with his players and stand up to Rupert and become more confident in himself and his ability as a coach and apologize to Ted and just in general have a redemption arc that was not centered on some random one-dimensional mean waitress or his ability to play the violin. But at least we have this fic!

I wrote FAMTILM for Yuletide in 2021. I'd never written Nate's POV before - all my Ted Lasso fics up to this point were about Sam and Dani - so I'm proud of myself for being able to capture the nuances of Nate's voice and write the slow growth of Nate's self-esteem and realization that he was in the wrong and his affection for his players (particularly Višnjić and Roubeni, who are in my top ten favorite OCs I've ever created). I'm also very proud of myself for taking what could have been a 30k word story and telling it just as well in under 8k, and writing a full Natedemption arc in less than a month that turned out to be ten times better than what Sudeikis and co accomplished in twelve bloated episodes.

[noonaishere]

Music of the Heart [J.YH] - eighty-nine | listening to it for the background noise

You listened to an old JGG stream as you worked, you had kind of gotten into the whole concept of watching other people play games, which was a little funny to you considering you never watched anyone play sports before and didn’t even play video games. But after checking out a few of y/n’s streams, you kind of liked hearing the background noise of people doing things, similar to why people sit in cafes and work instead of being in a silent room.

You had clicked on a random one; you still weren’t sure if any of them were supposed to be sequential or anything: the one you currently played was a stream of just y/n and San playing Minecraft together.

Accidentally running into a group of… something that was attacking her, y/n’s avatar died, the death screen coming up on her screen and she sighed heavily.

“What did you do now?” San laughed.

“As a great man once said: Live good, die great. Live bad, die worse.”

San laughed loudly. “Are you saying you lived bad?”

Y/n chuckled. “I’m not saying I lived good.”

San laughed again and y/n clicked the Respawn button.

“Where are you?”

“Uhh… middle of fucking nowhere.”

“Tell me your coordinates, I’ll come find you.”

What passed was about ten minutes of y/n sitting in a hole in the ground she dug so she could be safe from skeletons and zombies for the night. She sang a little song about whatever was happening in her surroundings as she waited.

“Tell the stars… tell the stars I love them when they pass overhead at the speed of light~~ tell the-- skeleman!”

San laughed, and she moved around the corner of her hovel and waited for the red dot to disappear before going back to the entrance to look out into the night.

“Tell the clouds and the rain that I miss them when it’s dry…”

“That’s a really cute song.”

“Tell the-- skelemen to GET OFF MY LAWN!!”

San laughed. “Significantly less cute.”

“What? Am I supposed to be funny, good-looking, the smartest person on the planet, and good at writing song lyrics on the fly? I mean I could, but I don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“That’s a lot of work. I’ll stick with being funny, gorgeous, and the smartest person in any room, thanks.”

“You were good-looking and now you’ve moved up to gorgeous?”

“Are you saying I’m not?”

“Not at all, I’m just wondering at the sudden shift.”

“Well,” she laughed in jest, “not to toot my own horn, but--”

“Toot toot?”

“TOOT TOOT BITCH!!”

San laughed. “Well, I’ve seen you in person so I can confirm the need for horn tooting.”

“Ya damn right. And: thank you for your honesty.”

San chuckled.

About five more minutes went by and San arrived the next morning to collect her.

“Hello, fair maiden. Prithee, I hath arrived to take thee away to mine castle.”

Y/n broke the block over her head and jumped out of the hole and looked around.

“What?”

“Where’s your horse?”

“...I don’t have one.”

“Not accepting knights without whips! See ya!” She ran away from him.

“Cat! There’s--!”

“Ahh!”

Since hers was the stream you were watching, you could see her plummet to her death after not seeing that there was a hidden, sudden drop that was high enough to kill her instantly upon impact. She sighed wearily.

Silence set in for a moment.

“What was that about being the smartest person in any room?” San asked tentatively.

“Well I’m not in a room am I? I’m outside!”

San laughed loudly, and y/n joined him though her laugh did not sound nearly as entertained as his was.

“Where’d you respawn?”

“Ugh.” She hit the respawn button. “Maybe we should stop.”

“Don’t get discouraged. Just… don’t go running off this time when I come to get you.”

She raspberried into her mic.

“Mature.”

“Very.”

“What are your coordinates?”

“...”

“Cat? Can you hear me?”

“My chat is saying that you shouldn’t come get me and that I should be punished by having to find my way back myself.”

“... Do they just want to watch you struggling for twenty-four hours straight?”

“One of them agreed with you and said ‘JGG 24 Hours Struggling to Get Back Challenge.’”

“Oh my god, the chat is antagonistic today.”

“Right? They woke up and chose violence for no reason. And when I’m so nice to them all the time.”

“Well, if you do decide to do that challenge, I will not be here for it.”

“Hoes ain’t loyal.”

He laughed. “I do have to go to work at some point.”

“Oh yeah… true…. Hoes are wage slaves instead.”

“Wowwwww. You know what? Don’t tell me your coordinates. I’m not coming to get you.”

“No! Help! I don’t know where I am and the sun is setting!” Seeing a zombie in the distance, she dug a hole in a panic and hid.

San laughed to himself. “Tell me where you are and I’ll come get you.”

She opened the menu and read him the coordinates.

She sat in the hole as she waited, singing new songs about the rain or the sun or whatever was around her. After about thirty minutes and almost two in-game days she asked: “Where are you?”

“I’m on my way.”

“Are you actually leaving me here? Is this my punishment? Morn, why hast thou forsaken me?”

He chuckled. “You have so little faith in me. I’m not sure if I should be offended or not.”

“Did my chat bribe you?”

He laughed.

“Just level with me if they did.”

He laughed again. “There isn’t enough money in the world to get me to betray you.”

“Aww. ‘Get you a man who’.”

“Who what?”

“I was referencing a meme.”

“Oh, okay.”

On the third day, San made his way there.

“Okay, I’m here.”

“Finally!” She broke the block and jumped out. “Whaaat?”

San jumped off his horse. “A knight should have a whip, right?”

She laughed loudly. “You’re a bozo.”

“Why am I a bozo?”

“I don’t know. Because I said a thing and you did it.”

He laughed.

“You’re cute.”

“You’re cute.”

She got quiet for a second. “Shut up.” The words were demanding, but the way she said them wasn’t. It was the way a girl with a crush acted when she was obviously flirting with that crush.

“Hop on.”

“But how are you getting back?”

“You can just walk behind me as we walk back.”

She was quiet for a couple seconds.

“Please don’t go galloping off and kill yourself by accident again.”

“I wasn’t going to!” She got on the horse.

“You were thinking about it.”

“...Fine, I was. But I’m not going to.”

San chuckled. “Thank you. Now, I’ll lead us back to the village.”

There was something about the way they interacted that made you wonder. It was possible they were just really good at acting, the fake dating was a show for the stalker after all, so it had to be believable. But… there was something about it that very much didn’t seem like acting to you.

  previous | main cast | masterlist | next

a/n: “With his eyes?” bozo behavior. The beginning of the meddlingggg~~ Who’s excited for silly business?

Send an ask or leave a comment if you want to be added to the tag list! 🎵 Any comments, reblogs, or asks are appreciated! I love talking with you guys and seeing what you’re saying about the chapters, it keeps me going 🥰

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[askzloyxp]

Would you maybe be able to bring other editors on board? Perhaps teach Lyarrah how you do your jazz so she can take over for a couple weeks. Unless I'm mistaken in assuming that her job is just copy pasting the script into the YouTube captions feature. I don't really know how captioning works

Okay, this is actually quite fun to talk about because YES! Youtube's caption system does have a feature where you can get auto-captions made if you just feed it the transcript of the video! HOWEVER, Lyarrah's job on the Recap is not to just do that.

First and foremost, Ly actually handles all of the metadata of the vids except thumbnails. Tags, description and even the titles are all things she has to fill in after I upload, because by that time I have absolutely 0 energy to do that. She also is the one moderating the comments. Even if I'm often the one to reply, she does a lot to filter out the bad stuff and add spam-filters.

Then she has to make the actual captions. Even with the script available, this is actually still a serious undertaking. Because that feature that you just feed the script and it puts the timings in automatically? It sucks ass. The timings are all over the place, it struggles with even the british accent and it couldn't add who is speaking or sound/tone descrptions even if you put them in. And with Recaps specifically, it couldn't put in the parts where the Hermits themselves are speaking, because THEIR LINES ARE NOT EVEN IN THE SCRIPT! What clips to use and to add to the video is mostly decided in the video-editing phase, long after the script is written. So that stuff needs to be added later. But because it's not in the script, the system gets confused about parts where the words that are not in the script are said, and just puts whatever lines in there. As a result, cleaning up after the algorithm takes longer than to just make whole new subtitles. WHICH IS WHAT LYARRAH ACTUALLY DOES.

More or less every video she makes captions for is re-transcribed by hand with the script only as a reference. This results in much better captions where she can even add her personal touch with the emojis to convey tone and all that!

I know there are automated systems in DaVinci Resolve and Adobe Premiere that could output pretty solid captions with working timings, and she's actually looking into that, and will be trying them out. But even then, it will be her responsibility and her choice to use these tools, because she's our captioning specialist. Whatever research she does will still be a load off my back.

But could she just edit the recaps for me? Funny you say that, because in theory? She probably could. Lyarrah and Pixlriffs are both adept video editors, each with their own youtube channels, and perfectly capable of producing videos no worse than what I make. Pix has already edited a couple recaps in the past, and every time he'd deliver on time and arguably a tighter product than what I make. HOWEVER, the trick here is that to get the HC Recap done every week, week after week, on time and with passable editing, when the source material is a dozen videos at least and the result needs to be well paced, illustrative and well, passable, is a whole other ordeal. I don't mean to toot my own horn, but here you gotta not know how to edit, but know how to edit like a motherfucker.

...that doesn't mean "good" or "fast",... just.. like a motherfucker.

And for one, I wouldn't want to put that much work onto anyone, while for two, I wouldn't trust to put that much work onto anyone. Maybe to a professional editor or like, a TV-editor this isn't much, but I don't think I have the funds to hire one, especially when at the end of the day, to me the whole process has long become routine, entertainment even. I love the edit. Which is also why I struggle with stress and burnout the way I do: it is incomprehensible to me that I can't just sit down and do this like always!

One must imagine Sisyphus happy.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere vs yandere with two different ending

How would Sebek and Silver be when they competing for getting Crewle daughter hand in marriage or courting?

Since they are old fastion they court differently compared to people outside of the Valley of thorns

The Duel for Your hand | Sebek Zigvolt vs Silver Vanrouge

Your right they do court differently

And they have some of the most unreliable people cheering them on

Malleus is giving his earnest outdated opinion

Lilia is just in it for laughs 

To a degree he is seriously cheering them on but he knows in the end it can’t really hold a candle to your opinion

If it weren’t for Silver’s compassion they would have done this in front of you

But they won’t, instead they’ll have Malleus and Lilia bare witness

The two only start to worry when the boys both get a little to into it

I most definitely see them inviting Crewel off-record to watch

Your father isn’t one to just give his approval to the baddest brute 

But he is taking it into account when they officially ask

Silver Vanrouge’s Ending 

He’s agile 

He’s smart 

And he’s the goodest boy

When he wins he immediately is praised by his father

Who might have forgotten by now that this is a really really old way to gain a woman’s affection 

“Go on, you have to tell her!”

He actually falls asleep first 

Leaving him to wake up to you, who had been invited to their battle ground unexpectedly

“Silver what have I said about sleeping in dirt? Didn’t you cherish the peacock plumed pillow, where is it?”

Once he answers and you two start idle chatter

He smile widely as he recalls his achievement

“I won!” 

“Excuse me?”

“I won the duel against Sebek for your hand!”

“...so?”

“So? I mean no disrespect…but it is the way this typically goes, right? Or at least that's what Father said.”

“Sweetheart, it's been over a century since that kind of practice went out of date. The only approval you really need now is mine.”

“Then may I ask for your hand in marriage?”

“You may, after we officially start dating of course.”

“Yes, please!”

Crewel might’ve been secretly rooting for him 

And when he eventually does have Silver asking for approval 

He’ll give it to him

“I was under the impression, your sleepy disposition meant you were an airhead unoccupied but your duel showed me otherwise. I expect you will protect her with that same vigor I watched you fight with.”

“Of course, sir! I plan to protect her with all my might!”

“Good boy.”

Sebek Zigvolt Ending 

Where Silver’s nimble 

Sebek has power

Power that ultimately beats Silver

Now at this point Lilia will try to help him

Keyword: try

“AS SUCH I WOULD PREVAIL! (Y/N)’S HAND IS MINE!” 

He’ll run off the grounds shouting and cheering 

He’s so busy tooting his own horn he’s completely oblivious to the atmosphere 

“Dogs with barking problems need a muzzle.”

While Crewel is groaning under his breath as he retreats to rage in his room fill out some paperwork

Meanwhile Sebek is proudly stomping to where you are completely unaware of the way people are disturbed by his loud presence

“(Y/n)! I HAVE PROPERLY DUELED FOR YOUR HAND AGAINST SILVER AND I HAVE WON! NOW SHALL WE UNITE IN BRIAR VALLEY OR QUEENDOM OF ROSES?”

“Sebek…what are you talking about?”

“THE DUEL FOR YOUR HAND IN MARRIAGE! YOUR FATHER GIVES HIS APPROVAL FOR OUR UNION!”

“Sebek, you do realize that nowadays you don’t have to fight anyone…you can just ask me.”

“But I’ve already pledged! And I beat him!”

“That doesn’t mean anything compared to my words. Are you suggesting that my opinion doesn’t matter?”

“NO! Not in the slightest! I apologize for assuming! It is my own hubris that makes me overstep to think you could ever want to be with me!”

He kneels wanting to kiss your shoe

“I wouldn’t be against it if you were to court me, by modern standards that is.”

“IT’D BE AN HONOR…but I will admit when it comes to modern courting…I am not very familiar.”

“No worries, I can guide you.”

“THAT’S EXACTLY LIKE YOU (Y/N)-SAMA! I’M HONORED TO HAVE THIS OPPORTUNITY!”

Such a worshipper 

You could probably keep him on a leash like this for years

An option Crewel would very much prefer

Expect him to defend your honor in every situation

Like when someone insults you

Or questions why you’ve been dating so long

Or any compliment towards you that makes him insecure which is quite a few

Sebek will eventually grow on Crewel who will still maintain that he doesn’t like him

“I still think you need a muzzle.”

[ganondoodle]

(this is not about anyone in particular but i have encountered this argument alot too so i wanna say sth about it)

the thing that people like to use as an excuse to why totks story was so lackluster that they think of the gameplay first

but how is that an excuse for bad story and inconsistency with the game its supposedly a sequel too? does good gameplay suddendly mean that the story gotta be bad? they made it work just fine with botw, sure its got its problems and there are things that could have been better like in any game, but they made it work with the themes, it felt harmonical with the rest of it

yeah the story feels like an afterthought in totk, bc it probably was, but it didnt have to be, and not to toot my own horn here but thats what im trying to do with the rewrite, yes im including some wishes i have that would never be canon but this is ultimately wasted work im doing anyway, im restructuring the whole game bc i want it to be in tune with itself, i took the route of most changes bc its my little brainfart were i can make it into something i really want while using the real game as a basis, all that work is in vain anyway so why not go all out, but i have several ideas, some even written out, on how you could have made it better, sometimes with minimal changes even and even then, they dont matter, the game is done and higely successful, im just a random dude on the internet thats part of the 0.01% of fans that dont like it, im just insane enough (or autistic enough lol) to basically do game design and writing for an entire game IP i dont own and never will for a game thats already finished and wont change regardless of how much work i do or how much i yell about it

if you think its 'unfair' to the canon game bc some things are not doable (tho honestly given what they have already been able to do nintedny would absolutely be able to do everything im writing) or bc im changing so much then ok? if you think they had their reasons and thats ok with you then ok?

im not tho, and no i dont think they had a good reason nor good excuse to do it like this, thats my opinion anyway, and my opinion doesnt matter in the grant scheme of things

like you dont have to like anything i do with it, its not a demand of the devs, the games done already anyway and nothign will change that, im literally just making it into the sequel i would have loved, i would have wanted, i would think is better but thats just me, all of the work im doing for this project is an outlet for my frustration with the game that i cant let go bc i love the franchise, and most importantly botw, so much that i cant let it go

so if you dont like what im doing, thats fine, but move on then pls bc im not demanding anyone to like it and if you choose to engage with it despite not liking it thats not my fault now is it

and if you do like it i want to thank you for your support!! it means alot that maybe, even if its technically wasted work and time, its really not fully useless, if it can bring even one other person a little joy, thats a good engouh reason for me to keep posting it :3