#on an Angsty note I think a lot of it stems from his own self doubt about his abilities

[mitsybubbles]

I think the discourse about Ansbach is pretty unfortunate for many reasons but also because discussions about him gloss over how he’s so politely mild mannered it’s comedic

“Oh youth these days! So full of vigor and determination unlike old coots like me” [is talking about Freyja deciding that using Mohg’s body to ressurect Radahn is Based, actually, because Radahn gets to fight more War]

“Hello Lady Leda and Tarnished! I hope you’re doing well- oh you want to murder me? That’s okay, I would murder me too haha, just make sure to look out for each other <3”

“Greetings General Radahn! How are you? It seems you have something that doesn’t belong to you”

(Tbh it also is a great contrast to his reputation as the commander of pureblood knights and his fast but ruthless flighting style)

[zend-pixie]

Who took the nuke?

So, Tubbo’s nuclear warhead was stolen recently. That’s bad, very bad - especially since Tubbo confirmed that it can be manually set off, without the need of dual keycards.

And though it may seem like the answer is clear, it isn’t??? There’s a couple possible people here. And I wanna talk about those possibilities today.

1) Ranboo - The Obvious Answer

So for starters, we have the answer everyone’s expecting - Ranboo, in his enderwalk state, stealing the nuke. This seems really plausible - further proved by the fact that the doors were canonically locked the entire time. Who else would be able to seamlessly teleport in and out? Who can only teleport in a certain state, and not their awake one?

So, our scenario here looks like this: Ranboo got into his enderwalk state, teleported past the security (the doors and Mr Buttons??), took the nuke, teleported out, most likely hid it somewhere, and woke up again. But, this is the scenario everyone is expecting - and the Dream SMP has a habit of bending our expectations quite a lot. I mean, how fun is a series when you know the answer to every mystery?

Although, on the other hand, we all expected Wilbur to be Pogtopia’s traitor - which is why we immediately ruled him out. And guess who ended up being the traitor, in the end?

2) Ghostbur/Revivebur - The Fun Answer

Now, our second probability is Wilbur. The reason I put a slash there for Ghostbur is because - well, you know all those theories that Wilbur is already back, but disguised as/in the body of Ghostbur? Yeah. So either that, or Dream already brought Wilbur back and he respawned outside the prison.

This is the answer people are expecting as well, but this one isn’t definite - it depends entirely on the fact whether or not Wilbur is still dead, and if not, if he’s outside the prison. If the answer is “no” to any of these, our man is immediately ruled out.

We know how much Wilbur likes his explosions at this point - and the prospect of the nuke being a “dead man’s switch”, as Tubbo referred to it, might be that much more convincing to him sadly. Whether or not Wilbur will actually end up working with Dream, if he goes out again, it will be with a big bang once more - literal or not. And on a meta note, with the 1.17 update coming along... the server getting obliterated for good sounds all to likely for us to be comfortable here.

3) Tommy - The Angsty Answer

Listen - I know Tommy may seem like the last person who would willingly blow something up after all the explosion trauma, but hear me out.

Now, there’s two options here:

A) Tommy’s secretly working with Wilbur.

B) Tommy is doing this in secret to have a definite last-resort of taking down Dream and Wilbur.

For Theory A - there’s been many speculations going around that Tommy is hiding something from us. And they don’t stem from empty paranoia, per say - Tommy really has been acting suspicious ever since he left the Afterlife.

He acts scared of Wilbur, despite not seeming too frightened in the Afterlife with him (from the small glimpse we got, at least)? His building skills have improved all of a sudden (I’m choosing to make that canon, hush)? Not to mention, he has access to a nuke keycard.

Now, I know he got that card by accident in a non-canon bit with Jack but.. why is it still in his enderchest, then? Tommy has since long proved that that place is reserved mainly for important attachments or other lore-heavy things - he even moved his 23 diamond blocks to a completely different location recently. He has no reason to keep it in his enderchest rather than his regular chest, unless he needed it.

So here’s our scenario - Tommy died, spent some time with Wilbur in the Afterlife. But rather than just “playing solitaire for months”, they planned something out (I mean come on, you can’t tell me that Wilbur spent 9 years in the Afterlife and seems like some kind of entity rather than a human being, knowing exactly when the universe ends, and Tommy spent multiple months there and is completely the same). Tommy, knowing Dream’s manipulation tactics by heart at this point (ouch.), used a little reverse psychology on him - begging not to have Wilbur come back is like a sign-up sheet to Dream doing the exact opposite like the petty bitch he is. Tommy is doing something in secret with Wilbur here - most likely against Dream, but we don’t know if it’s for or against the rest of the server as well. This can either be disproved or further proved by the fact that Tommy acts afraid of Wilbur around other people as well. What makes this theory exciting is that cc!Tommy pretty much never kept something in the dark from us about his character. We always knew what was happening with Tommy, we always knew what he felt. But it seems as though ever since we weren’t let in on the secret that is what truly happened in the Afterlife, we’ve been kept in the dark a bit more. And it’s so interesting because we’re not used to it. And the less you expect, the scarier it becomes.

Now, there’s also Theory B here - that Tommy wasn’t lying to anyone about what he felt, and genuinely wants to take down Dream and (possibly) Wilbur. That he stole the nuke in secret, as a last-resort - without telling either of his friends, knowing they’d worry.

This one is more angsty out of the two - the first implies a possible crime boys villain duo, and the second - a broken child, ready to sacrifice himself once again for the safety of his friends.

Theory B can proved a couple ways as well - mainly by disproving Theory A. We could always say that the glimpse of the Afterlife that we got didn’t seem angsty because it was only that - a glimpse. We don’t know the full extent of what they talked about. According to Glatt, Tommy (VoidInnit or GhostInnit) seemed speechlessly terrified all the time for a while - only being able to stammer out that Dream murdered him. That’s enough proof that we don’t have all the information here, either.

Another thing is that Tommy could’ve simply not been lying. He seemed genuinely afraid of taking damage and Wilbur coming back. Now, you could say that he’s just good at acting but... well. We don’t know if c!Tommy has the same skillset as cc!Tommy, here.

Though, like I said - this possibility has sad implications. Tommy taking the nuke in secret means that he might be planning to use it on Dream and/or WIlbur - and as Tubbo said, the only way to do that without a keycard is manual detonation. Which means Tommy would have to go down with them. It would explain why he wouldn’t want to tell either Tubbo or Ranboo - they care about him and seemed pretty protective after he came back. They’d obviously disapprove of the idea immediately - perhaps even making extra sure Tommy had zero access to the nukes, just in case.

We know how, sadly, suicidal Tommy got in the series. We know how he’d be willing to use his own life as a bargaining chip if it only meant that the people he cares about are safe. I know he got severely thanatophobic after his final death but.. we don’t know if it still counts for self-sacrifices.

And the idea of Tommy going down with his enemies, despite everything, just so his friends can still live their lives happily and without fear... it’s a sad end, but I feel as though it’s fitting.

Although.. Tommy does have a nuke keycard as I said... And we don’t know how many lives he has now - it may be more than one, like how Jack got all 3 back. Maybe he’ll be fine. Perhaps we’ll get dramatically jebaited, see Tubbo and Ranboo cry out in anguish, only for Tommy to come out of the corner with a “hey guys what’d I miss why are you crying”

I’d love to hear your theories, too! If you have anyone who might be likely here to take the nuke as well, tell me why! I’d die to know what you guys think :D

[knickynoo]

How bad do you think Lorraine was? Like I’ve seen ‘just kinda distant’ to ‘emotionally abusive and controlling.’ So where do you think she falls and how does that affect Marty?

Honestly? I don't even know where I stand in terms of Lorraine as a mother. I find myself sort of flipping back and forth between those two extremes you listed. And we don't even see enough of Twin Pines Lorraine to get a solid picture of what her relationship with Marty is like.

The glimpse we do get at dinner tells me two things: 1. Lorraine does care for and love her family--albeit, in her own dysfunctional way (she wants Dave to kiss her goodbye, enjoys--at least in the beginning--telling the kids how she and George met, and thinks she's protecting Marty by trying to dissuade him from being with Jennifer) and 2. She's deeply unhappy with the way things have turned out in her life and is coping with alcohol.

It's safe to say that her drinking at dinner is not a one-off event. Original timeline Lorraine is probably within arms' reach of a bottle at any point of the day, and I assume it's been that way for most, if not all, of Marty's life leading up to when we meet him in the movie. She's mostly just subdued and kind of sad during the dinner scene, but is very quick to lecture and criticize Marty. And given Marty's response to her--staying completely silent and avoiding eye contact/generally seeming like a turtle retreating into its shell--it appears that his strategy in dealing with his mother is to simply stay still and shut up.

Taking the "Lorraine is emotionally abusive and controlling" route, Marty's reaction makes a lot of sense. If we're going with that version of Lorraine, I see Marty as being her primary target--hands down. She isn't going to bother arguing with or taking her anger out on George. He's always wrapped up with his work, plus he does everything he can to avoid confrontation. She's not going to go after Dave. He seems like a watered down George, and so he's probably the type to also avoid conflict and just do what's expected of him in order to keep mom happy. And being the first born, Lorraine likely has a soft spot for him. Linda, while definitely getting into arguments every so often with Lorraine, is also safe. She's probably out just doing her own thing for the most part, and she's also the only daughter. I'm sure there's some semblance of a bond between them, even if it's small.

But Marty? Marty is her problem kid. Her stubborn, hyperactive, rebellious one. He's always in trouble at school; he's dating a girl she doesn't approve of; and he hangs around with a mad scientist. I can absolutely see Lorraine, even from the time Marty is very young, just not knowing what to do with him. Labeling him as the "difficult" one and saddling him with all her anger simply because he takes a little more work & she doesn't have the patience and because he's the youngest. I don't think it's far-fetched to imagine a Lorraine who has a little too much to drink and then unleashes a tirade on Marty for the tiniest mistake or because she just wants somebody to yell at.

The Marty we see sitting at dinner is very different from Marty at literally any other point. I mean, the kid is typically a ball of energy. Marty is always moving and talking and smiling; he is constantly go, go, go. Then he gets to dinner with the fam and you might as well have a cardboard cutout sitting there; that's how little he moves or talks. Is it because years of harsh words and emotional manipulation has left him afraid to do much more than breathe in his mother's presence? Do a lot of the anxiety and self-esteem issues we see Marty struggle with stem from unkind words from Lorraine? Maybe. Do I have some angsty one-shot notes jotted down that explore this twisted version of her and her relationship with Marty? Yes. Yes, I do.

But I also picture that version of Lorraine who is "just kinda distant." Who, at her core, is a loving mother who can't emotionally connect but is trying her hardest to give her kids a decent life. And she holds it together for the most part, but struggles with alcoholism and sometimes unintentionally lets it get the best of her. She argues with and lectures her children--as most mothers do--but truly loves them with everything in her.

So, yeah, I can go that darker headcanon route where Lorraine is cold and cruel and really only speaks to Marty to find fault in him. But you know what? I like going the route where Lorraine, despite her own struggles and sadness, pushes through them as best she can; and she and Marty have many more good memories together than bad.

The dinner scene (though not a great picture of that mother-son relationship) is just one moment, and I like to imagine all the positive little moments we don't see between them. A Lorraine who has a special place in her heart for her youngest. Who smiles at him when he arrives home from school, fusses over him when he's sick, and picks up his favorite snack when she's out at the grocery store to surprise him with it. A mother who reaches out to affectionately move hair away from his face and who stands quietly outside his bedroom door so she can listen to him playing his guitar. Who holds him when he's had a rough day or a bad dream. After all, Marty does call out to her every time he wakes up from a "nightmare" in another timeline. You can conclude that it's because that's what he does when he actually does wake from one, and that he's grown to rely on her being there to comfort him. Because it's not even like he's confused or weirded out by her presence. He's just like, oh good, mom's here; I'm safe now. And that reaction says A LOT if you ask me. (Also makes me wonder if nightmares are that common for Marty that he's evidently so used to having his mother in the room with him after one??)

This answer has gotten away from me (no surprise there). Anyway, those are most of my thoughts. I admit that in my course of posting on this blog, I've tended to lean more towards that darker version of Lorraine and the impact left on Marty. But if I had to decide my feelings on her as a mother, I think I'd go with "Lorraine is a good, loving mom who's dealing with a lot but trying her best." Doesn't change the fact that Marty is still emotionally damaged by the environment (because he is living with an alcoholic) but I don't want to imagine a Lorraine who goes out of her way to be purposefully cruel to Marty. He's just such a sweet, good-hearted kid and I want him to have a mother who's nice to him.

Thanks for the ask!

[vidavalor]

SamBucky opinions & things...

I’m not going to say who people should ship as it’s everyone’s own opinions and it’s a tv show/film series so it’s not like this is the most important thing on the planet... That said, I’ve seen a few posts from Stucky people who say they actively want to understand what SamBucky shippers see in the pairing and since I’m gone on these two, here are some thoughts... 

If you take a long view-- which the MCU is having you do now because these characters are outlasting Steve Rogers in its canon-- Steve & Bucky, while fun to play with and full of a lot of really great yearning/angsty possibilities back in the day, are really just the formative chapters of Sam & Bucky’s romance. If we got more Sam flashbacks in the story-- and I really hope we do in his canon in the wake of the end of TFATWS (S1?)/CA4-- a Sam & Riley story would be the equivalent to The First Avenger, in terms of it sets up some backstory that leads to where the story is going, as opposed to is the entire story itself. 

A main factor for me in liking Sam & Bucky over Bucky & Steve is that Sam is a healthy, mature choice for Bucky-- a guy who has gone through a hell of a lot here and deserves all the good things-- whereas Steve, while not a bad man, is a regressive choice. It stems from the fact that Steve was never really comfortable with Bucky’s sexuality-- at least not when it mattered-- and that’s because Steve was not comfortable with his own... or much of anything about himself. This still wouldn’t matter so much in terms of who to ship Bucky with if it weren’t also for the fact that Bucky is perfect *for Sam*, who should get all the good things, and we’ll get into that a bit more below. Have to do Steve & Bucky first because chronology and also because that’s the other ship in question here, really. (Sorry, SteveSam people like if you are asking for stuff too and anyone cares, I don’t think I have enough for a whole meta post on why it’s kinda blah, if full of cute friendship moments, but I touch on it a bit further below.)

The entire plot of The First Avenger is about how Steve is obsessed with being Mr. America 1940-- and how he gets to that point is understandable. He was born with a ton of heart, a truly good man, but he’s small and sickly and he doesn’t love himself. He lacks confidence in himself because he holds himself up to a standard of masculinity put forth by a country on the brink of war-- and then, at war-- as physically strong and very, very straight. 

While Steve is desperate to change how he looks, Bucky hides behind how he looks. Steve might look at Bucky and see a lot of what he wishes he was-- the good-looking soldier with a dame on each arm-- but at some point, he becomes aware of how Bucky is playacting. He’s not as he appears to be. He’s a man trying to survive a world that does not accept him and working to pass in that society, all the while with an eye to the World of Tomorrow. Not just the technology that grips his imagination but the idea that things could improve, things could change and he’ll fight for America because he, like Steve and later, Sam, believes in it but while Steve worships it, Bucky can love it while looking at it critically. It’s not built for men like him. 

Steve never fully understands this because while Bucky is trying to show him some of the World of Tomorrow, he’s off making plans to get injected with super serum to fill in the gaps of what he feels he needs to become the man he is supposed to be. 

The key difference between them is that Steve will do anything to be that man-- and that includes shoving any potential feelings he has for Bucky so deep that he won’t even acknowledge them (if he has them at all). Bucky, on the other hand, even in 1940, had more strength. He wasn’t as tormented by who he was. I’m sure he had some of it at some point but by the time we meet him in the movies, he’s fine with who he is, even if the country he serves and the society in which he lives is not. He could basically give af. He doesn’t think in the ‘40s that he’s going to live to see an America that will ever really accept him and he fights for it anyway because Mr. America is really, fundamentally, more Captain America than The OG Captain America. 

Steve is not a bad man by any stretch of the imagination but it’s clear that, at some point, he began to understand that Bucky liked men and while he didn’t do anything horrible about it-- like have Bucky arrested or told anyone else, both of which could have destroyed Bucky’s life at that time-- he never completely approved of it, either. Guaranteed he told Bucky more than once that if he just stopped, if he just found the right woman, etc-- he didn’t mean any harm with it but he was happy to think the way of his era, whereas Bucky was born ahead of his time. Still, Steve is probably the only person that Bucky knew then who knew his secret and that he protected it earned even more of Bucky’s loyalty and devotion. 

Now, consider what happened when Steve Rogers was pulled out of the ice and found himself living in the literal World of Tomorrow. It’s imperfect, for sure. It’s overwhelming for him, especially at first, but it’s a world that he has to feel the wrong guy from the ‘40s has lived to see. How many times did Steve wish Bucky could see this world? How much was he thinking of Bucky when he met the literal son of the creator of the World of Tomorrow in Tony Stark-- a man who would challenge everything Steve thought was true about what it was to be a man? How guilty did Steve feel when he would sometimes get a little closer to being more open about himself in this world of Tony’s, when he’d think of how there had been a man who loved him in their own time, who was his best friend and gave him an unconditional love, even when Steve didn’t love himself, and how Steve just couldn’t love him like that in return? 

Then, Steve’s journey results in him meeting Sam Wilson. They have some things in common-- they both know war and what it’s like to feel like like they might sink to the floor through a mattress. They both know the solitude of the floor and have not seem to have figured out a way beyond that. They both are runners-- literally and figuratively-- as they try to outrun the men from their pasts that they left behind... the fellow soldiers that didn’t make it home and died before their eyes. Sam is a good listener and Steve is Captain America-- they are able to help one another. Steve needs some counseling and Sam needs to feel a connection to the country he’s feeling has left him behind but that he loves. So, naturally, this is of course when Bucky resurfaces in the story. 

The Winter Soldier’s existence breaks Steve in half because, for the first time, Bucky isn’t the strong one of the two of them. Bucky is in trouble and Steve never saved him. Have you all considered that The Howlies should have known Bucky was missing because back then, you left no man behind and they should have hiked down the hill for his body? If it wasn’t there, they should have realized he was *missing* and not *dead*? But they never did. Because, as crushed as he was by the loss of his closest friend, some dark part of Steve let Bucky be dead from that fall and couldn’t face seeing it for real because he couldn’t look at the unseeing, dead eyes of the man who loved him and accepted him, even when Steve was unable to give Bucky the latter in return. It was guilt and then that guilt pops up right as Steve is in conflict with Tony and has just met Sam not that long before-- these relationships with men in the modern era that challenge Steve to be a better version of who he was and who pops up but Steve’s living, breathing, prowling, raging guilt in human form. 

And, man, is it ever causing some serious havoc...

So, why is Sam ultimately better? The guy who advised Steve that sometimes you couldn’t save them all and Bucky might be gone now and just needed to be stopped? 

Steve couldn’t give up on Bucky because he felt he owed him. He had been on his own journey and realized a lot about how he used to think and act and here was Bucky again and a chance to make it up to him in some way. What’s of note, though? Steve does not act like someone who got a long-lost love back. He’s still running for Peggy the moment he has a chance. He’s still not capable of looking at Bucky as anything beyond his oldest, closest friend. What he wants for Bucky, though, is the World of Tomorrow. 

Suddenly, there’s a chance to give to Bucky the thing he’s been thinking all the time since he woke up-- that this is a world for Bucky Barnes. Steve, out of his sense of loyalty and his decades-long guilt, moves heaven and earth to give Bucky that chance and is grateful when T’Challa will help to bring Bucky back. The irony of all of this is that Bucky Barnes, the man who used to hide his true self beneath an exterior identity, is now a man completely trapped beneath The Winter Soldier and when Steve sees a glimmer of that, he *has* to save Bucky. 

What Sam learns along the way is that he and Steve have some things in common, sure, but he has more in common with Bucky Barnes. Sam is a man who understands what it is to have PTSD and the struggle to overcome it. He used to think he was the Steve of this story-- the one who watched his old soldier friend fall to his death-- but he has quickly realized he’s actually the Bucky... the guy who loved a man who couldn’t love him back and who was lost to him, leaving him spinning. Sam knows what it is to have to act in a different way to try to be accepted by a society that doesn’t have your back, even if you love the country with your whole heart anyway. He knows what it’s like to be a veteran who was left behind and forgotten about, discounted and forced to find his own way. For sure, Bucky has enjoyed more privileges in his day (pre-Winter Soldier) by virtue of being white than Sam has but neither of them are ever going to be what Steve Rogers wanted to be. Neither of them are that outdated ideal of 1940s blue eyed blond Star-Spangled Man with a Plan kind of masculinity. 

Sam is also something Steve still really isn’t, even in the modern era, which is a man who is comfortable with the fact that he is attracted to men. In this World of Steve and Bucky’s Tomorrow that is the present, that is something that is no longer needed to be kept as hidden as it once was. It is not an era of complete change, especially in places like the military and when it comes to celebrity-- the nexus of Captain America’s world, really-- but it is an absolutely revolutionary transformation from when Bucky was last in control of his mind in the 1940s. 

Sam is a quieter guy, even if he’s cheerful and amiable on the surface. He keeps a lot to himself. He’s clearly not gotten seriously involved with anybody in awhile when we met him and hadn’t between then and TFATWS, either, despite being a smart, gorgeous, kind and empathetic Avenger. The one who has caught his eye is the once-brainwashed assassin who keeps showing up to save his life (often from an annoying teenager with webbed fingers, much to their chagrin). It’s Bucky that he’s stuck with and that’s not just because he feels like Steve would want him to. Both he and Bucky think that the other might just be caring because of Steve but they prove to one another that this isn’t the case-- that their instincts that they have something that might be independent of Steve is true. They’re both afraid. They’ve both been through a lot and do not trust easily so it’s a thrill when they realize they really can trust one another-- and that they actually do *see* one another there. They don’t just see Steve’s shadow. They understand what the other needs and get better at it the longer they are together because they are fundamentally more alike and better suited than either of them are with Steve. 

TFATWS has Bucky telling Sam that he and Steve talked about giving Sam the shield and since Steve’s shield in the present was broken in the battle with Thanos in Endgame, it means that Bucky knew the plan in its entirety (which goes along with how he doesn’t seem surprised by it in Endgame as well.) It means Bucky knew that Steve was going to go back to the time they were from and find Peggy after he put the stones back and have that dance. It means that Bucky standing there while Sam spoke with Steve knew he would see Old Steve that day, knew the whole thing. Steve, being the fundamentally decent man he is, had to have offered for Bucky to come with him. He probably really wished he would because he would love to have his friend back then with him for the rest of their lives. It would be a way to do it all over-- to go back to where they began and this time, Steve would try to be more supportive. You know he would have tried to be different, even if he couldn’t feel any thing different than what he did. But Bucky...? 

Bucky had to see a life of more hell in that. What was the plan there for him? He goes back with Steve, they put the stones away, they find Peggy and then what? The rest of Bucky’s life is him married to some friend of Peggy’s they set him up with? Stolen moments with some man, if he was lucky enough to meet one? A family made not from love-- not the kind of love, anyway, that Bucky would like to have? What was waiting for him back then? Nothing. 

Because he’s been through sheer hell but, somehow, he’s been given something he never thought was possible then: the chance to not only see what the future might be like but to live in it, as a part of it. 

For sure, Endgame!Bucky, who had just gotten his mind back not that long before The Snap and just came back from dust to fight a battle and go to a funeral and that’s about it, hasn’t the first clue what the first step he should take to sort himself out enough to figure out how to live again is... but even then, even in that place of nothing but vulnerability and pain, he’s hopeful. He’s strong enough to say that’s what he wants. He wants what Steve wants, in a way-- to live in the time he belongs in and be able to find a life for himself. He wants the love and the family he never got to experience and wouldn’t in the same way in the era he was born in. Staying in the present to work though his pain and figure it out-- to have that choice-- means more to Bucky than following Steve because while Bucky believes in Steve’s goodness and would follow that to the moon and back, Steve cannot give him what he once might have wanted, which is to look at him the way that Steve looks at Peggy. Bucky wants that. Steve might not understand not wanting to live in the 1940s entirely but he wants Bucky to have whatever he wants. He feels uncomfortable not being there to see it through-- hence, that kind of awkward hug before he travels back in time. There are things that Bucky wants and needs that Steve doesn’t fully appreciate but he can appreciate him needing to make the choice to live the way he wants to live and deserving the freedom to do just that. 

Consider the rush for Bucky when he realizes that Steve’s snarky friend might have just looked at him when he thought he wasn’t looking, that maybe that heat between them isn’t one-sided. That they live *now* and while it’s not free of challenges, it’s paradise compared to the 1940s. That maybe, just maybe, he lived through all this hell because he’s supposed to be here now and maybe that also means he’s supposed to be with this man who not only understands him but who is everything that Bucky couldn’t have been in his day-- openly attracted to men? If you were Bucky, there’s no way you couldn’t be entertaining fantasies about being able to take Sam for a romantic walk by the water somewhere and no one calling the police if you were to kiss him at sunset...

Not to mention that if you’re Sam? Who is going to get your PTSD and understand when you get a little quiet more than the guy you met while he fell out of the sky and tried to murder you while brainwashed? Who is so annoying because he’s dryly funny and annoyingly hot and more good than anyone who has been through that amount of hell should have a right to be? Who is enough like you to be made for you but different enough that you’ll never be bored? Who makes you feel safer than you’ve ever felt-- safe enough to give over a lot of the trust you are hesitant to give much of anyone because you know he won’t abuse it? You have to be entertaining thoughts about spending a lifetime making him feel as safe and finding new ways to make him laugh...

Sam and Bucky are the ones that will protect one another’s hearts. Steve is a great guy whose arc with Bucky is about making up for hurting him and growing as a person as a result, not about Steve’s undying romantic and/or sexual love, IMO. Among other things, Sam is the first man Bucky has been able to consider building a life with and I’d wager it actually works in reverse for Sam, despite him being born much later than Bucky-- Riley could have been Sam’s lover but there is enough pining regret there that I think he saw Sam in the way that Steve saw Bucky. There’s enough there to suggest that Sam had not met someone he saw a future with until Bucky, which would also account for the occasional nervousness. They seem like opposites but, in many ways, they’re exactly alike and in the ways that they are not, they compliment one another. Sam and Bucky are each other’s chances at happiness and peace so if you’re still saying Bucky should be sobbing in Steve’s notebook waiting for him to come back from the woman he left him for... why are you wishing such hell on this poor guy? Bucky deserves the smiles and the lightness in his step and the sister and the nephews and the community cookouts and, most of all, *Sam*...

...and Sam deserves the sun, the moon and the stars and seems content having found his way to the shield and to Bucky so let them be happy for the hot minute they will be until their movie conflict. ;) Steve’s getting his dance-- Bucky and Sam deserve theirs, too. 

[ressyfaerie]

Fanfic request: Kai/Tysons first kiss and how you think it would go down! (English Dub names please!) :)

This is sooo hard because I have at least 3856859 different AUs of their first kiss aaahhh. I can't decide if I want this one to be angsty, fluffy, or everything in between aaahh! Regardless, I’m going to write something good! Okay I’m done, it ended up being much longer than expected AND i really self-indulged in this one we've got flowers, cars- just I know you’ll like it. 

I’m popping this into a read more after the intro because it's a bit long for the dashboard lol.

“Is there a note?” 

Ray eyed the flowers suspiciously. 

Tyson held the wooden planter box in his arms, “uh- I don’t think so?” 

“Who would send a planter box instead of just cut flowers?” Hilary thought it was the worst kind of romantic gesture. 

“Look!” Max dug his hands into the flowers. 

“What kind of flowers are these Tyson?” Ray asked, eyeing the blue petals with awe. 

“They’re Himalayan blue poppies… They’re not easy to grow.” 

Max pulled out a small slip of paper hidden in the stems. 

“How do you know so much about gardening?” Hilary had no idea when he found the time to pick up a hobby that was so- unlike Tyson. 

“I found my mother's old gardening books! I’ve been taking care of the dojo gardens on the weekends since grandpa’s back is so bad- what does the note say?” 

Max read it out loud, “A unique flower, for a unique person.” 

“Do we recognize the handwriting?” Kenny fixed his glasses, analyzing the situation. 

“It’s been typed.” Max pointed out while flipping the note around for everyone to see. 

Tyson inspected the flowers. He had never seen blue poppies before, they were one of his mother’s favourites. 

“Whoever sent it, they know me well.” Tyson smiled. 

“How come?” Ray asked. 

“I don’t like cut flowers. I feel bad when they die. I like getting flowers that are alive.” 

The room went quiet as everyone racked their brains trying to think of the possibilities. 

“Who would know these things about you? Even we didn’t know you liked flowers!” Hilary pointed the fact out, some of the team members nodded, she had a good point. 

“A lot of people know that I garden… But very few know that my mother really liked these flowers… She wrote about them a lot in her gardening books. To my knowledge, no one’s ever seen them but me, Grandpa, my dad, and maybe Hiro.” 

Ray stroked his chin deep in thought, “It could have been a friendly gift? Not romantic at all?” 

Tyson nodded, it could have been, but it felt- romantic. No one he knew would do something like this, it didn’t make sense. 

“I’ll put them outside, for now, maybe we will think about it later.” Tyson left the room to place them in his corner garden outside. 

The gravel crunched under his feet as he made his way to his small greenspace. He placed the planter with the rest of his stuff. He wondered who would have sent them, but he had no time to think; they had a party to attend at the BBA in less than two hours, and he still hadn’t even started to get ready. 

As expected, the dojo was now in chaos. Like most teenagers, they left everything to the last minute. None of them had experience with formal attire. 

“Does anyone here know how to tie a tie?!” Ray frantically displayed handfuls of ties. 

“I do!” Kenny grasped one of the ties and tried to tie it on himself, before transferring it over to Ray. 

Kenny was much too nervous to tie a proper knot, Ray found himself cringing as their time crunch got shorter and shorter. 

Max had locked himself in the bathroom, probably doing his hair. 

Hilary was god-knows-where, Tyson still wore regular clothes. 

“Where’s Kai? Isn’t he the formal clothes expert?” Tyson fiddled with dragoon while sitting cross-legged in the middle of the dojo. 

“That’s a good idea!” Kenny stopped trying to fiddle with Ray’s tie, “where is he?” 

“Wait, wasn’t he driving some of us?” Mr. D said another driver will come to pick us up…”

“No, I’m certain we're all going in a limo.” 

Tyson started to panic, stuck between trusting Kenny or Ray, now that was a difficult decision. 

Hilary bellowed as she slammed the door open to the dojo. “Tyson! WHY aren’t you changed yet?” 

“I!” 

He started a lame excuse but she raised her voice again, “stop fiddling with that hunk of metal and go upstairs and put on your clothes right now!” 

“Who died and made you boss of BBA formal parties?” 

“I’m literally the party planner.” She rolled her eyes. 

“Fine!” Tyson got up and dusted off his pants, “but I’m going to complain the whole time, and I’m taking a shower!” 

“You don’t have time for a shower!” she slapped a hand to her forehead in exasperation. 

“Too bad.” Tyson stuck his tongue out at her. 

Upstairs, he took his time getting into the shower, it was fine if they were late for the party anyway, they didn’t have to be there on time. 

He washed his body, got out, brushed his teeth, combed his hair, and blow-dried it. He even put on some make-up so he could feel extra fancy. He tied his hair up, admiring himself in the mirror, he looked so grown up now. His hair was long, and he loved tying it up traditionally. He ran a hand through his blue hair. He winked at himself, knowing he looked hot. 

He opened the door with just a towel wrapped around his waist, he left clothes on his bed he was going to wear. Beside his clothes, sitting on his bed was his silver-haired best friend and rival, dressed in a well-fitted Italian cut suit. 

Kai looked him up and down, “you should have been ready by now.” 

Tyson’s cheeks blushed, “why are you alone in my room?” 

Kai patted the dress shirt he left on his bed, “apparently Tyson Granger can’t dress himself- is this what you picked out?” 

“Yeah? What’s wrong with it?” 

Kai grinned, “Are you sure?” 

Tyson made sure to show he was offended, “it��s the nicest thing I own…” 

“I figured you’d say that.” Kai rose from the bed towards a hook on the door. He reached for a black garment bag that wasn’t there before. 

Tyson wondered where it came from, and when- did Kai just bring it? For him?

He placed it on the bed, undoing the zipper on the fancy black bag, “change into this.” 

“If it doesn’t look hot- I’m boycotting you.” 

Kai chuckled, “how do you boycott a whole person?” 

“It better look good on me, or you’ll find out.” 

Kai stood still, Tyson mumbled, “can you- can you turn around so I can change?”

“Oh, right- Yeah.” 

Kai walked towards the window and directed his attention outside, trying to ignore the fact Tyson was a towel away from being completely naked behind him. 

He heard the rustling of clothes behind him, and Tyson’s voice, “is everyone ready downstairs?” 

“They’ve already left in the limo Tyson.” 

“Limo!? You mean I could be in a limo right now?!” 

“You weren’t ready in time, so now you have to go with me, you’re lucky I stayed behind.” 

“Not like you aren’t usually fashionably late Kai. You can turn around now.” 

Kai flung his body around, hopefully, he didn’t seem too eager to see Tyson in a suit. 

Tyson was awkwardly fiddling with his cuffs, he had no tie on, and his buttons weren’t done right. 

Kai sighed, “Here.” He grabbed one of Tyson’s arms and started to straighten his cuffs, “Can you do your tie?” 

Tyson felt his face flush in embarrassment. Kai fixing his clothes was, in his eyes, the opposite of manly. 

“I uh,” Tyson didn’t want to admit it, “don’t know how to do it.” He said in a hushed voice.

“What was that?” Kai finished with his other arm and moved on to his buttons. 

“I don’t know how to tie a tie okay!?” Tyson avoided eye contact. 

Tyson had realized catching Kai's smile was becoming more common. 

Kai gave him one of those grins now, “it’s okay, I’ll do it for you.” 

“Can you teach me? I want to do it myself…” 

“No time, I can show you later though.” Kai reached into the black bag and pulled out a dark blue tie, it was soft with elegant subtle swirls on it. 

Tyson’s eyes widened in awe, he had never seen anything so fancy, and he was expected to wear it?!

“Where did you get this suit from?” Tyson asked as Kai adjusted his collar on his shirt. 

“Mr. Dickenson asked me to get you some nice clothes. I picked it out, I thought it would look good on you.”

Tyson felt an electric shock as Kai reached around his neck placing the tie on either side of him. 

“It was expensive.” Kai’s eyes met his, Tyson tried to keep his mouth closed, “don’t get food on it.” Kai threatened him. 

“I won’t!” Tyson’s voice squeaked. 

Kai worked on the tie while biting the insides of his cheeks, he had to refrain from touching Tyson’s chest, he compromised by running his knuckle along his pec while pulling the tie tighter. 

The delicate touch was not missed by Tyson, who felt a burning sensation flow up his spine. 

“There.” Kai stepped away when he was done with the tie. 

Tyson turned to a full length mirror he had on another side of the room. His eyes glowed when he got a look at himself, “Woah! Kai!” 

He did a twirl for the mirror, “Kai you made a good choice, this does look good on me!” 

Kai placed a hand in his pocket, “I told you.” 

It suddenly occurred to Tyson, he had never been in Kai’s car. He knew it was nice, He knew it was a supercharged sports car, but that was about it. Kai was particular who he let look at it, and now, he was letting Tyson sit passenger. Tyson stared at the white car in awe, he didn’t know much about cars, but it was obvious it was a big deal. 

Kai opened the passenger door for him, “are you getting in or are you going to stand there all night?” 

Tyson shook his head, “y-yeah! What kind of car did you say this was again?” 

“I don’t think you’ve ever asked, it’s an Aston Martin Superleggera.” 

“Sounds fancy,” Tyson remarked while climbing into it.

Kai leaned towards him before closing the door, “it is- put on your seatbelt.” 

The first thing Tyson noticed, Kai didn’t drive like someone in their late teens, he drove like an old man.

“For someone who’s incredibly late- you sure aren’t going anywhere fast.” 

Kai had one hand on the steering wheel, “you want me to go faster?” he blinked in surprise.

“Well, you have a turbo-charged sports car.” Tyson grinned, “send it.” 

“I didn’t know you were into fast cars?” Kai remarked. 

“Hell yeah, I am.” 

“Hold on.” 

Luckily there weren’t many cars on this road. 

Was it illegal? Don’t tell anyone.

Did Tyson realize that Kai shared the same adrenaline habits he did? Absolutely. 

They drove fast, Kai made turns expertly, Tyson laughed and cheered. 

Slowing down his pace, Tyson could feel his heart racing, “that was awesome.” 

Kai gifted him another one of his rare smiles, the kind that was becoming more frequent. 

The party venue felt a little monotone, maybe it was in comparison to the adrenaline rush they just had. 

“Holy!?- Tyson?” Max rushed over to him with a glass of juice in his hand, “there’s no way that’s you in that suit?” 

“Sure is,” Tyson’s face screamed happiness. 

Walking into the main hall, Tyson recognized everyone from his past tournaments, his old rivals, friends, everyone was excited to see him. 

Tyson became swarmed with people greeting him, Kai excused himself, to hide away in the corner. 

“What’s going on?” to his right side, Ray. 

“Not much, you?” 

Ray handed him a glass, probably juice, he took it. 

“Just finished saying hi to everyone, are you going to make the rounds?” Ray knew it was a  stupid question. 

“I’ll talk to whoever talks to me first.” Kai took a small sip of the glass. 

“Are you dancing tonight?” another stupid question from Ray.

Kai gave him an obvious expression, “you think I would?” 

He didn’t say no; Ray took the opportunity to squeeze humanity out of Kai, “out of everyone here, who would you dance with?” 

Kai surveyed the room, it caught Ray by surprise, he was actually thinking about it. 

“Probably Tyson-” Kai needed to think of a good excuse fast- “because I’m more familiar with him than anyone else.” He took a sip of his juice. 

“So then dance with him? You know everyone probably will by the end of the night.” 

Kai chuckled with his mouth in his glass, it fogged up slightly, “no, that would be weird.” 

 “I’ll ask him first if that makes you more comfortable.”

Kai shrugged in response. Ray patted his shoulder, placing down his empty glass on a nearby table, and he made his way towards Tyson who was already dancing in the middle of the room. 

Towards the other side of the room, Kai saw Mr. Dickenson in the corner of his eye, waving for him to come over to the group he was with. Kai rolled his eyes, he saw Hiro over there too. 

Reluctantly, he made his way over, he wasn't going to ignore Mr. Dickenson. 

The group had formed a circle, Miriah was there, Emily, Judy, and Michael. 

Kai gave everyone a friendly greeting, then they started making casual conversation, then it got down to business. Kai waved his hand in the air, “I’m not here to talk about the Hiwatari company tonight.” 

Hiro gave him an angry expression, but Mr. Dickeson understood, and so did Judy, they all kept making casual conversation. 

“Hey, weird question guys.” Miriah held up a pink phone with a picture on it.

Emily pointed to the screen, “Do you guys know what kind of flowers these are?” 

They piled around it, Max showed up behind them to check out the picture as well. Kai and Hiro saw the screen simultaneously, in unison they responded: 

“Himalayan blue poppies.” 

Hiro and Kai locked eyes immediately. Instantly ready to square up. 

“How do you know that?” Hiro’s voice had a hint of anger. 

“I’m not allowed to know a type of flower?” Kai spat back. 

Miriah squeezed herself in between them, “Calm down! Tyson got sent some- we don’t know who sent them.” 

“They’re my mom's favourite flower.” 

Max watched the situation, he stared at Kai, “no way…” he said under his breath.

The blond-haired boy grasped Kai’s arm, pulling him out of the group, far away from the angry brother. 

“Thanks, Max.” Kai was glad he managed to sneak him away without anyone noticing. 

“No problem dude.” Max smiled. 

Ray appeared beside them, with a worn-out Tyson by his side. 

“Kai, your turn!” He shoved Tyson into Kai. 

Tyson wasn’t expecting it, stabilizing himself by holding on to Kai’s shoulders, “Ray!” 

“Sorry!” 

Kai unconsciously helped Tyson keep his balance… by holding him by his waist. 

Tyson pulled himself away, Kai’s hands glided along his waist. 

“Apparently… You wanted to dance with me?” Tyson gave Kai an expression he couldn’t read. 

“I didn’t want to- I mean- if you want to?” Kai’s face turned a shade pinker. 

“Sure- I mean, if you want to?” Tyson swallowed, but his throat stayed dry. 

“Just go!” Ray pushed them towards the dance floor. 

Max yelled to Ray, “Ray! I have to tell you something…” 

In the middle of the dance floor, the duo had no idea what to do. 

“Um-” Tyson awkwardly placed his arms around Kai’s neck. 

“Isn’t that the female way..” Kai remarked

“Shut up!” Tyson felt awkward for some reason, even though before this, he danced with a dozen boys- and girls. 

Kai placed his hands on his hips, wondering how he ever ended up here. 

“Here…” Kai grasped one of his hands, keeping one hand on his waist. 

Tyson’s hand that wasn’t wrapped in Kais, was placed on his shoulder, he slowly let it slide towards his neck, playing with the loose strands of hair, focused on the way it shimmered in the lights. 

“How do you know how to dance?” 

“Rich boy.” 

“Really?” Tyson laughed, imagining a young Kai learning ballroom dance. 

“I can also play some piano.” 

“Wow, what else can you do rich boy?” Tyson titled his head, unconsciously teasing him. 

“Some violin, calligraphy in English, Ballroom dance, paperwork…” 

“I’m surprised you’re telling me this.” Tyson admired his face up close, when did he get such a cute face? 

Kai held Tyson closer, his face centimeters away from his, “if you tell, no one will believe you.” 

Tyson let out a hard laugh. People in the room began to stare, but they didn’t notice, they were lost in their own little world. 

Kai felt sweat form in between Tyson’s palm and his, but he didn’t care. He watched his blue hair sway, and his lips curve into smiles, he blinked suddenly, becoming aware of the way he was looking at him. 

Kai let go of Tyson, taking a step away from him, “sorry- I’m going to get some air.” 

Kai disappeared into another room, leaving Tyson flustered on the dance floor. 

Outside Kai closed the metal door behind him, he held the railing of the balcony. “What am I doing?” he whispered to nobody. 

“Sending him flowers, driving him around, dancing with him- Why can’t I just-” 

He heard the door open and close behind him, “Are you alright Kai? You left so fast…” 

Hearing Tyson’s voice was liquid ecstasy. He closed his eyes, absorbing it, before finding the courage to turn around. 

“I’m fine.” He gave Tyson a grin, but Tyson saw through it. 

“You’re all in your head,” Tyson remarked and stepped closer to him. 

Kai had his back to the railing, he couldn’t run away anymore.

Tyson was too close, he looked in Kai’s eyes, deep into his mind, looking for any sign that something was off. 

Tyson lifted his hand, and rested it on his cheek, “what’s going on with you?” 

Kai felt his whole body melt, pure happiness, absolute comfort. At the next words, he felt like he could float away-

“You know you can tell me anything right?” 

Kai felt his lungs stop working, no air, his brain fired electrical impulses at lightning speed but no thoughts were being created.

“Did you send the flowers?” Tyson kept his hand on Kai’s cheek. 

“Y- yeah,” Kai admitted, still not breathing. 

“How did you know about them?” 

“You leave your mothers journals everywhere-” 

“And you read them?!” 

“No- Well, yes. But I wasn’t reading her writing, I was reading your notes on the sides.” 

Tyson remembered a sticky note he put on a page, mentioning where he could get seeds for his mother's favourite flowers, that he so desperately wanted. 

 “Why?” Tyson’s voice was serious but so calming. 

Kai closed his eyes momentarily, then opened them.

“I think I like you.” 

Neither one of them dared to move. 

Silence, for minutes, as Tyson’s hand stayed on Kai’s face, growing colder by the minute. 

“I’m sorry- it was weird, I shouldn’t have said anything.” Kai tried to turn his face away from him, trying to brush off the encounter. 

“No!” Tyson used his hand to push Kai back to his original position. 

Kai’s face grew red, Tyson’s did too.

“I! I think that-” Tyson blubbered trying to find the right words, Kai gripped the railing behind him. 

“Ah- screw it-” Tyson’s eyes were damp, he stared at the sky before taking a deep breath.

“Ty!-” 

Tyson’s lips were pressed against his. He didn’t know what to do- he had wished for it for so long- and now, all of the sudden? 

“Mm!” Tyson made some noise as he kept doing it, messy, but fun. 

Kai used his hands to run through Tyson’s hair from the back of his neck, grabbing the back of his head and a handful of hair, pulling him closer.

Their bodies were against each other, they could feel each other’s hearts trying to leap out of their chests. 

Kai tried to pull away, to get some air- Tyson grabbed his tie and pulled him back into him, making out with him more. 

Finally, Tyson let Kai go, he was still chocolate he was told not to have, and he wanted more.

“What- I, Tyson?” Kai stumbled over his words. 

 “It’s alright Kai.” Tyson gave him a quick kiss on his soft lips, “it’s okay.”

[kythed]

when we were young

oikawa tooru x reader

author’s note: this is pretty angsty! Read at your own risk :’)

--

You looked just as he remembered you, but more… vivid, if that made any sense. Your hair was more lustrous, your eyes glimmered brightly under the ballroom lights. Had your lips always been so soft and pink? Had you always looked so good in white? Had you always been this beautiful?

As he stared at you from across the floor, loosely cradling a stemmed glass of prosecco in one hand and wiping the sweat on the palm of the other, you laughed. He couldn’t hear you over the chatter of the crowd, but nonetheless your giggle resounded in his mind as if it were being projected by a sound system. You used to laugh at his jokes that way. You used to smile at him the way you smiled at someone else now. He had an old picture of you grinning like that back in his apartment in Argentina, tucked in between the books on his shelf-- he couldn’t bear to have it out in the open, reminding him of what he let go, but he also couldn’t bring himself to throw it away.

God, he wished he could take a picture of you now. He hadn’t seen you that happy in ages. You were still laughing, playfully gripping someone’s arm and tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. In the last days of his relationship with you, you had been so… gray. So lifeless. So different from the girl he’d fallen in love with as a second year high school student.

He’d come to realize it was his fault, of course. He hadn’t been treating you like you deserved. If he could turn back time, though… he would never have let you leave his side. He would never have let any of your tears go unwiped, never let you struggle on your own while he wrapped himself in his own problems and refused to face the reality of your unhappiness. He would have treasured you.

He recalled one evening back in high school. The two of you were deeply in love, as in love as one can be at eighteen years old. The night air was cold and biting, but seeing you wrapped up in his coat made him feel so warm inside. April in Miyagi was always lovely, but he thought it had never been as lovely as it had been that night, with you dancing in between the streetlamps and tugging on his sleeve to dance with you. There was no music but your laughter and no dance floor but the gravel road. You danced until you were breathless, and he smiled softly at your flushed cheeks and mussed hair and kissed you under a flurry of sakura petals. It was as close to movie magic as he could have ever possibly imagined. You were better than perfect, sweeter than fiction. So why, why had he let you go?

He had been so selfish. You had invested so constantly into him, supported him unconditionally, accepted his shortcomings and failures, and in return, he had gotten bored. At least, that’s what he had told you. He cringed as he remembered that last day. You’d looked up into his face, unshed tears glimmering on your lower lash line, nervously chewing on your inner cheek.

“Tooru,” you whispered. “You’ve been so distant. I… am I doing something wrong?”

He’d looked down at you coldly, and it felt like a shard of metal lodged itself in his chest but he let the words fall from his lips anyways: “I’m just bored of you.”

You flinched as if you’d been slapped, and the last thing he’d heard from you was “Goodbye, Oikawa” as you grabbed your book bag and left.

He hadn’t really been bored of you. You’d remained as spontaneous as the day he first met you, fresh as a daisy and enthusiastic as a puppy the entire year and a half he dated you. But you were always so honest, always so straightforward… it forced him to confront himself, to own up to his actions, and that’s what he began to hate. He began to hate himself. He couldn’t stand you continuing to look up to him when he couldn’t see himself as anything but a failure. You would never let him wallow in his self pity and spoil him like all the other girls did. You would try to pick him up, clean his face and help him improve. And he knew that’s what he really needed. He knew he didn’t need someone to stroke his ego and carry him when he was weak, he needed someone to teach him to save himself.

Seeing his weaknesses so plainly bothered him. So he pushed you away… he just never imagined you would stay away. Half of him was still waiting for you to come back, to knock on his door and shove a new book you thought he would enjoy into his hand, or to go rifle through his fridge for a snack. And even now, five years after graduation, after he joined Club Atletico San Juan and moved across the globe, a tiny part of his heart still belonged to you.

He had been surprised, to say the least, when he found the invitation in his mail. To Oikawa Tooru. You have been invited to celebrate the union of (L/N) (F/N) and Iwaizumi Hajime. Please RSVP to secure a seat. At the bottom of the invitation, you’d drawn a little smiley face. He could tell it was you who had drawn it because you’d doodled the same one in the margins of his homework countless times before during study dates. That little face taunted him, laughed at his regret. He deserved it.

Now, he watched you slow dance with his best friend in the middle of the floor, staring lovingly into your new husband’s eyes while he murmured into your ear. Had you ever looked at Oikawa that tenderly? Had you ever cupped the back of his neck so gently? He wasn’t sure. Probably not. It had been Iwaizumi who comforted you after Oikawa had cast you aside so cruelly, and it had been Iwaizumi you’d sworn loyalty to thenceforth. Oikawa had known you and Iwaizumi were together, but he hadn’t known it was so serious. Briefly, he imagined what it would be like to be in Iwa’s place right now, holding your body flush against his, inhaling the scent of your hair.

God, he needed to dance with you. Just once more, he needed to dance with you like he did that night under the sakura tree.

The song segued into another, and you and Iwaizumi stepped off the dance floor as another couple took your place. Oikawa placed his glass on the table, stood up, and moved across the room swiftly until he stood just feet behind you and Iwaizumi.

He cleared his throat. “Congratulations to the happy couple.”

You turned and Oikawa swore he saw a breath catch in your throat as you gazed at him unblinkingly, lips slightly parted. Suddenly, your face broke into a broad smile.

“Tooru!” You leaned forward and enveloped him in a tight embrace. Oikawa froze briefly before wrapping his arms around you lightly-- you hadn’t called him by his first name in ages and you hadn’t hugged him for even longer. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Glad I could come,” he said with a terse smile. He turned to Iwaizumi and clapped him on the back goodnaturedly. “Iwa-chan! Look at you! A married man, finally. Never thought I’d live to see the day.”

Iwaizumi gave a rare smile. “Nice to see you too, Shittykawa.”

“Still gotta bully me after all these years, huh?” joked Oikawa, even though he felt his heart breaking to pieces. He turned back to you, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Hey, listen, I know it’s your wedding and all, but I was wondering… could I have this dance?”

Your eyes widened just barely and you turned to Iwaizumi, who nodded.

“Go ahead, darling,” he said. “I have to go greet some of my relatives anyways. Just find me when you’re done.”

He gave Oikawa one last pat on the back before slipping into the crowd.

Gently, Oikawa took your hand and led you onto the floor, resting his hands on your waist. You rested yours on his shoulders, and he felt his muscles relax at your touch. The two of you swayed slowly to the music, a song he didn’t know.

Everybody loves the things you do

From the way you talk, to the way you move

“You look lovely, (L/N),” he said quietly. “Or should I say Iwaizumi-san?”

“Oh, call me (F/N),” you said, smiling. “I think we owe each other at least that.”

Oikawa smiled back sadly. He spun you around and caught you in his arms. “Yeah, at least.”

Everybody here is watching you

‘Cause you feel like home, you’re like a dream come true

You laughed that beautiful, beautiful laugh of yours. To him, it sounded like all his favorite songs wrapped up in one. God, he’d missed you.

But if by chance you’re here alone

Can I have a moment before I go

“This reminds me of when we were young,” you said softly, as you returned to swaying to the beat. “That night--”

“Under the sakura tree,” Oikawa finished. “Yeah, I remember.” I dream about it every other night.

“Yeah, that night,” you said, smiling fondly at the memory. “I had a lot of fun. I think we had just gotten out of a late night viewing of some silly romantic movie. You said you hated it, but I noticed you wiping tears away during that one kiss scene.”

Cause I’ve been by myself all night long

Hoping you’re someone I used to know

“Ah, I’d forgotten we’d even watched a movie that night.” Oikawa pulled you a little closer. “I only remember how cute you looked in my jacket.”

“It was two sizes too large,” you said, leaning into him. “But it was certainly warm.”

Let me photograph you in this light

In case this is the last time that we might

Be exactly like we were before we realized

“You’ve changed your perfume,” he said, suddenly. “I like this one better.”

“You still remember the perfume I used to wear?” You raised an eyebrow. “You creep.”

We were sad of getting old, it made us restless

Oikawa laughed-- a real laugh, not a fake one. “How could I not? You sprayed it on all the sweatshirts you borrowed.”

“I needed to give you something to remember me by,” you teased. Oikawa mumbled something unintelligible.

“What was that?”

“I said,” Oikawa breathed. “I could never forget you, (F/N).”

You still look like a movie

You still sound like a song

You swallowed thickly, heat crawling up your cheeks and old wounds throbbing. “Tooru…”

“I know, I know,” he said with a small smile. “It’s your wedding. I’m not here to win you back, and I’m glad you’re happy with Iwa-chan. Just… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

My God, this reminds me

“I forgive you, Tooru,” you said, burying your face in his chest before the tears spilled over. “I forgive you.”

Of when we were young

The song ended, fading into some generic jazzy tune. You and Oikawa stopped dancing, but you still stood there in the middle of the floor, staring at one another.

“You should tend to the rest of your guests,” Oikawa said finally, and you nodded. “Thanks for the dance.”

You squeezed his hand one last time, and turned to leave, but he didn’t let go. You looked back over your shoulder. “Tooru?”

“(F/N)...” Oikawa took out his phone. “Can we take a picture?”

You laughed. “Always so sentimental. Of course we can.”

The two of you posed for the selfie, and for once, Oikawa didn’t make some stupid face or stick out his tongue. He smiled and snapped the picture before tucking his phone away again. “Thank you.”

“Goodbye, Tooru,” you said. It was the same thing you said all those years ago, but this time it was warmer, kinder.

“Goodbye, (F/N).”

---

When he got back to Argentina, Oikawa took out the picture of you he had stowed in his bookshelf. He looked at it one last time, drinking in your youthful beauty. Then he threw it away. He didn’t need that one anymore.

[x--daughters-of-darkness--x]

Opening Up with… Evanescence

Opening Up sees us talk to musicians about the opening track from each of their studio albums. Our next guest is Amy Lee, lead vocalist and founding member of goth-pop veterans Evanescence. With millions of albums sold worldwide, the band are one of the most beloved of their era – and there's still plenty left in the tank, as their latest studio album attests to.

Amy Lee’s eyes widen when she realises what the premise of today’s conversation is. “I never get asked about this sort of stuff!” she exclaims excitedly from her Nashville home, surrounded by a stuffed toy collection belonging to her seven-year-old son Jack. Lee is very drawn to the prospect of a grand opening, whether that’s in the albums that she listens to, the gigs she attends or the movies she watches.

“I have a couple of different ideas about it,” she says. “An album opener…it’s got to pull you in. There’s different ways to do that, and we’ve done a few. One way is to give it the slow build – something that is opening up a world and an atmosphere to you where you’re like, ‘Okay, this is the world I’m stepping into.’ It builds up until it gets to that first big moment of impact. The other method, which I also love, is when you don’t hesitate and just burst right into something. We do our live shows both ways, too. It’s one of those things where it just kind of depends on your mood. You want to really reflect not only on where you’re at, but where you’ve been.”

‘Going Under’ – Fallen, 2003

In another life, ‘Going Under’  would have been the world’s introduction to Evanescence. The opening track to what would go on to be one of the highest-selling albums of the decade was the favourite among Lee and co. to be its lead single. Wind-Up Records, however, opted for ‘Bring Me to Life’, and the rest, as they say, is history. That’s not to count out ‘Going Under’ by any means whatsoever – after all, as Buzz Aldrin once said, second comes right after first.

“That was the song that we really wanted,” admits Lee, reflecting on the song nearly 18 years after its release. “I love ‘Bring Me to Life’, obviously, but we had a great feeling about ‘Going Under’ being sent to radio before the album came out. When that didn’t happen, it kind of became like, ‘Okay, well at least when you hear the album, I want it to still be the first thing that you hear.’”

The song details a tumultuous relationship that Lee had in her early 20s, both in the throes of it and staring back at the ashes of its remnants. She acknowledges the song’s agency reflects both strength and vulnerability in tandem, which explains why the track has spoken to so many listeners over the years. “I think it’s really strong,” she asserts.

“It presents a place that I kind of got to later. I’m calling out for help – ‘I’m going under/I’m drowning in you’ – but it starts out with me being like, ‘You know what? I’m done with this. I’m stepping out of the situation.’ I think that attitude was something for me that I was more excited to project.”

Setlist.fm approximates that the band have played ‘Going Under’ nearly 500 times over the years, making it one of the strongest staples of their shows. It’s a classic “hold out the mic” song – Lee can defer to her makeshift choir on any given night to take up any section of lyrics with full confidence that they’ll be sung back loud and proud. “It’s a fun one to play live,” she notes. “Some songs have more staying power than others, and that song really has that for me. That’s the song that still feels really good and still fits. It doesn’t have anything about it that sort of feels like ‘Okay, that’s cool and that’s part of our history, but that’s not really what we are anymore.’ That one just really has stood the test of time.”

‘Sweet Sacrifice’ – The Open Door, 2006

The parallels between the first tracks on Evanescence’s first two records are obvious. Each cuts straight to the chase, pairing a distorted Lee vocal with a crunching, down-tuned palm-mute guitar chug before bringing in a steady full-band groove and a rousing, angsty chorus. Internally, however, the make-up of Evanescence had drastically shifted between albums, informed by the exit of the band’s co-founder in guitarist Ben Moody less than a year after the release of Fallen. This came midway through a tour, leaving the band to scramble in finding a replacement guitarist, which came in the form of Terry Balsamo (a member of the opening band, Cold). At the conclusion of the tour, Balsamo ultimately joined Evanescence full-time – a position he would hold for the next 12 years.

“That writing process was a new experience,” recollects Lee on co-writing with Balsamo for the first time. “We just had a different energy, which was really cool. We spent a lot of all-nighters in this house in LA – which was actually the first house I’d ever bought. Terry would come up and stay for a month or whatever at a time, and we would work all night.”

When queried specifically on the writing of ‘Sweet Sacrifice,’ Lee recalls a moment where she and Balsamo really clicked creatively – the song’s stirring pre-chorus, which builds to its hard-hitting hook and big-swinging drums. “The guitar and the vocal are kind of mirroring each other there,” she says. “We were really excited about it. There was just this feeling that came with it,  like, the freedom of saying ‘we’ve earned the right to make music however we want right now.’ So many people were breathing down my neck being like, ‘Let me write your songs for you.’ Writing that song was us saying ‘no, we’re gonna do whatever we want because we earned this.’”

“I felt like the song was so beautifully heavy,” she continues. “I also felt like it would subvert what people would expect as an opening track. Because I was without my guitar-playing original counterpart, there was somehow this idea that the next record [should] be softer and more feminine. I love heavy music, of course, and what was coming out of me and Terry was, in some ways, a lot heavier.”

September will mark the 15-year anniversary of The Open Door, and although it doesn’t hold the same legacy as Fallen, it remains a sentimental favourite among fans of the band. Lee still maintains a strong relationship with the record – if not for the fact that the band was able to make it at all in the first place.

“I still love it very much, it means a lot to me,” she comments. “I did have a lot to prove, and I felt the pressure of people feeling like, ‘I wonder if she can do that without Ben.’ I was really excited to show right away that we were taking it to the next level.”

‘What You Want’ – Evanescence, 2011

The first thing you hear on Evanescence’s third studio album is not Lee. Hell, it’s not even a guitar. It’s a reverb-heavy kick and snare beat, which sounds like it’s echoing from the depths of an arena. It immediately kicks the album off on a high gear, and is a perfect example of Lee’s latter example of not hesitating and bursting right in as an opener.

“That’s Will,” she determines of the song’s opening fill – courtesy of drummer Will Hunt, who made his debut on Evanescence after touring with the band for several years prior. “He is the greatest drummer in the world. That part was totally him. He is arena rock to the max, so it’s perfect. What’s cool about that is we all have different things in us that [are] our own style, each member of the band. When everybody’s particular tastes and styles get a chance to really shine through what they’re doing, I think that’s what can make it really amazing.”

“That album, it’s self-titled because it was such a group effort. Certainly it was more [of] one than before, when it was really more kind of duos for both of the other albums – Ben and I, Terry and I. This time was more like, ‘Okay, let’s let everybody really have a chance to shine.’” Lee points to ‘What You Want’ in particular when reflecting on the all-in band approach in songwriting: “I believe it was me, Terry and Tim [McCord, bassist], and we were at my house in Brooklyn,” she describes. “I had a little studio on the top floor, and just pulled up a loop on Pro Tools. Terry started playing, Tim started playing and it just became a thing with the three of us. We brought the band in, and that dinky little loop became what Will did. It really took it to another place.”

“It starts off with that awesome drum beat, but the combo to me really happens when when everything eventually comes in. It really comes together. I hear Terry in those different little half-note steps, I hear me bringing in some of my pop influences in the melody. This is us just really having fun making music and being ourselves.”

‘Overture’ – Synthesis, 2017

In one of the band’s most ambitious projects to date, Synthesis saw Evanescence team up with veteran composer David Campbell (also known as Beck’s dad) to create orchestral renditions of their best-known songs. Before it kicks off in earnest, however, the album opens with a swelling overture penned by Lee herself. It’s a rare instance of her flexing a different creative muscle in the track-ones of the band’s career, where she approaches it as an arranger and composer as opposed to a singer and songwriter.

“The whole idea of the project, for me, really stems from the fact that there’s all these little parts,” she explains. “It’s where my classical influence, which was my first really passionate musical influence, has a moment. It’s something that is an important core part of the music. ‘Never Go Back,’ which follows the overture, is one of those songs – the bridge is totally just like mad Mozart in the darkness, y’know? It’s my classical alter-ego going crazy. It’s interesting, because I think that the combination of that happening against the rock is really what makes it Evanescence. At the same time, I can still see this whole landscape of us that exists underneath and inside the music that is just entirely that other side. A lot of the time, when I’m coming up with the idea to start and then bring it to the table, it’s usually in this piano and electronics-based world before it really becomes a fully-fledged rock song. The idea of Synthesis was to get to just indulge in all of those things.”

When looking at the creation of the album’s overture, Lee sees that alter-ego taking both form and flight. “That part in particular is just one of my favourite moments on the record,” she says. “It’s very classically inspired, obviously. To make that into a full piece with David and give it that slow build, like we were talking about…I just loved being able to do that. That’s one of the ones that we’re driving you into a place and you’re like, ‘Oh, where are we going?’ And then you get there. It was very special to have at the beginning of every show on the tour. I’ll never forget that.”

‘Artifact/The Turn’ – The Bitter Truth, 2021

“Let me tell you about this, because it’s unusual.” Having eyed the conversation’s flow keenly, Lee is prepared at the ready to talk about ‘Artifact/The Turn,’ which opens The Bitter Truth, the first collection of all-new Evanescence music in a decade. As she will go on to explain in great detail, the album’s opening moment is twofold – hence the forward slash in its title. First, the artifact, which Lee found on her computer. “That’s nothing but like a little keyboard and my voice,” she confirms.

“That part is me on my laptop with the laptop built-in mic in a hotel room in Canada in the middle of the night on tour. That was not intended to make it as is on the album. The reason it’s called ‘Artifact’ is something that Nick [Raskulinecz], our producer, said. He was like, ‘Do you really want to redo this?’ I always was thinking I was going to. ‘Well, yeah,’ I said. ‘Don’t we need to like do it in high quality, like on a real microphone? He says, ‘I don’t know if you’re going to be able to recapture that exact feeling.’ I thought about that, and it all just kind of connected. It has all these little artifacts in it – it’s actually a little ancient piece of the the writing process, and it’s intact. It hasn’t been re-recorded or redone in any way.”

This leads to where the music makes a turn – courtesy, naturally, of ‘The Turn.’ This was another one-on-one between Lee and a collaborator, although this time, it arrives in the unexpected form of The Crystal Method’s Scott Kirkland. “We just met through a mutual friend, my old lighting director,” Lee recalls. “We were both on the bill at some festival and we made friends. It turned out we were fans of each other, and I was like, ‘Hey, if you ever want to just like swap files, who knows? We might come up with something!’ We started sending each other little baby demo ideas that we had. He had that music bed a little bit in a different arrangement that he sent to me – and again, on tour in a backroom, I found myself singing over it and came up with a melody. He tweaked it and did it for real, and that was it.”

Piecing these two compositions together made it very clear to Lee from the outset that this is how The Bitter Truth would begin – especially when she saw how it transitioned into track two, ‘Broken Pieces Shine’. “I love the way that that riff brings you into our band – where we are now and what the sound of us is now,” she says. “It’s driving, and it is coming for you – and it just feels so good when it hits. I love the beginning of this album.”

It’s been around a month since the album’s release, and although the band obviously haven’t gotten to play any shows thus far, they’ve still been met with an endless stream of messages, comments and praise from fans all over the world. After such an extensive rollout – not by design, of course – the sense of relief within the Evanescence camp is palpable. “It’s so satisfying,” adds Lee. “The one thing that’s going to drive it all the way home, obviously, is going to be when we get to live inside it and go on tour and play these songs live.”

[feeling-uncomfy]

@trademarked-but-not-really and @aestheticallytiredandpathetic I have finished prompt three! I'm working on number 2 and 5 rn so they should be out soon!

In the meantime, enjoy!

Just a note that there will be abuse mentioned in this, relating to the old angsty fic I wrote? Yeah I explain more about the abuse here. Be warned!!

Denki swore as he hit the wrong note again. Jirou snorted as Bakugo yelled, having to restart for the fourth or fifth time that night. Momo came in with a tray of tea, accompanied by cookies.

"Satou made these for us! He made them specifically to each of our tastes as well!" She set the tray down and handed the treats out. Jirou thanked her, and gulped down her water. Tokoyami sat back, his fingers hopping from chord to chord.

Bakugo scoffed. "You still trying to learn that rift off? It's been three weeks, birdie." He said around a mouthful. Tokoyami let his head fall back. "I'm well aware of that, but thank you for pointing it out." He grumbled sarcastically. Bakugo shrugged and messed with his drumsticks.

There was silence as they ate. They got back to work, trying once again to get past a particularly difficult part of the song they were working on. Denki was clearly getting more and more frustrated, and he failed more as a result. Eventually, Jirou tried to call time-out, and Denki snapped.

He threw the guitar down, and it barely missed Tokoyami's head. Bakugo growled at him to watch it. "Sorry, mister perfect! I'm not good at this bullshit!" He yelled, turning away. Momo carefully made her way over. "No one's perfect, but that doesn't mean you can give up! We're all trying to learn this." She attempted to reassure him. Tokoyami nodded in agreement.

This appeared to make Denki angrier. "It's not the music!" He pulled back and faced the door, arms crossed. Jirou looked confused. "Then what is it?" Denki grumbled something. "Speak up, Spark Plug." Bakugo said.

"That! That's what's bothering me!" Denki spun around, tears threatening to fall. "It's the fact that your quirks are so cool, and you're all so talented! And what am I?" He scrunched up, tears falling down his face. "I'm nothing without your help..." The room was quiet after Denki's outburst. Momo's hand retracted.

The silence was deafening. Bakugo spoke up. "You idi— Denki. Look at me." Everyone's head snapped up, clearly taken aback by the correction. Bakugo continued. "No one actually thinks they're any good—" Denki shook his head, not letting him continue. "You say that, but your quirk is awesome! You don't count!" He said stubbornly.

Yamomo spoke up. "He's right. I dont think I'm good enough to be a hero either." Bakugo, Tokoyami and Jirou looked at Momo in shock. Denki buffered. "But, your quirk is amazing—" Momo cut in. "That doesn't matter if I cant put it in action effectively." She spoke calmly, but her hands shook.

Jirou looked away. "You saw me when we talked about music the first time." She said dejectedly. "I didnt think it was useful at all." She chuckles, though there are now tears in her eyes too. "Well, I still dont think that music is useful. Not really." Bakugo looked between them. This clearly wasnt what he was expecting.

Tokoyami shifted his weight from one leg to the other. He felt like he needed to share something. "No one ever really thought I could be a hero." He said quietly. The groups attention was on him. Tokoyami swallowed his nerves. "People always told me I'd be a villain, so after a while I started to believe them..." He stared firmly down at the ground. There goes his 'never cries in front of people' facade.

Bakugo looked between them. This was bullshit. How could they not think—?

Denki sniffed. "People only really used me as a phone charger or a back-up generator in middle school. My brain fried a lot, and people made fun of me." Denki sat down, telling his life story.

Yaomomo followed. "People used me for money, and when they had finished with me, they publicly embarrassed me in front of the school." She explained. Jirou shook her head angrily.

"People never made fun of me because I never told them." Jirou said. "I didnt have a lot of friends, and I got kinda lonely." She shrugged. The group looked up at Tokoyami, who still hadn't sat down. "If we're sharing..." he reluctantly said.

He sat down cross-legged. "People bullied me because of my animal head, and would force me to show Dark Shadow to everyone simply because he was 'different'" He told them, petting Dark Shadow softly. "And because I was so small, they would shove me into the tightest pace imaginable." Tokoyami shivered at the memories.

As the group shared their trauma, Bakugo tried to find a way to fix them. Denki was chatting, and they all gave their opinions, when the question popped up.

"Hey, what're your parents like?" Tokoyami froze. Yaomomo spoke highly about her parents, talking about the fun they had. Tokoyami was confused. Jirou talked about how her parents helped her learn all her instruments, and Tokoyami couldn't help but ask, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"You're parents helped you with that stuff?" The group was stunned to silence. Denki laughed nervously. "Yeah dude, didnt your parents do normal things?" Tokoyami shrugged. "My mom died when I was young, and my father..." Tokoyami didn't wanna think about him.

"What about your father?" Yaomomo asked softly. Tokoyami toyed with the edge of his collar. "Mr. Aziawa told me I'm not supposed to talk to him or any of his associates anymore." And for that Tokoyami was grateful. The group grew concerned.

"Why?" Bakugo asked bluntly. Tokoyami faltered. "It's complicated..." He sighed but decided fuck it. They had shared so much with him.

"My father used to... hit me a lot when I was younger." Tokoyami blurted out. And it was like a dam had opened, he couldn't stop talking. "Sometimes he'd use his fists, and sometimes he'd use something sharp. Either way it hurt. He used to shout. Loudly." Tokoyami hand brought his knees to his chest, breathing going a little haywire.

"He'd lock me in a closet for every rule I broke, and he defiled my mothers grave—" Tokoyami choked on his tears, getting angry. "He let his friends—" he couldn't say it, he couldn't get the words out. "They used to..." Nope, his confidence was gone, and the memories were back.

He fell back, head buried in his arms, shaking. Jirou panicked, and being the closest, threw her arms around him. Tokoyami froze, but when Jirou's hands stayed firmly in one place, he relaxed. Yaomomo joined swiftly, and Denki came from the back. Tokoyami felt oddly warm, and safe. It wasnt a feeling he usually experienced when hugged.

Bakugo stood, and made his way over. Wordlessly, he joined the hug. They stayed like that for a while, until there was a knock. All Might poked his head in. "Sorry, but Aziawa wants you to– oh." He saw them hugging. Bakugo jumped back, and Tokoyami scrubbed his eyes furiously, trying to stem the tear flow.

All Might stood back. "Aziawa, what do I do?" He whispered nervously to the man standing at the door, fuming. "Kick them out, fucking—" he looked in and saw the mess. "Oh." The kids were still kicked out, but no one got in trouble for staying up as late as it was.

The next morning, Tokoyami walked downstairs. He had had a nightmare after the fiasco that was band practice, and instinctively was heading for the closet. He approached the door, and someone blocked him. "Sorry, could I just—" He looked up. "Oh, Bakugo. What—"

Bakugo grabbed his wrist and dragged him towards the bathroom. "Wait, wha– Bakugo, where are we going?!" Bakugo dragged Tokoyami through the common room, and everyone was confused as to what was happening. Kirishima was going to step in, but Denki stopped him, and turned the conversation away from the two.

Bakugo brought them into the bathroom and splashed water on Tokoyami's face. "Wha—?!" Bakugo snapped at him to shut up. "You look like you havent slept, and you were heading for the closet." He muttered. Tokoyami tilted his head, confused. "You always do that after a bad night, right? I didnt know why till last night."

Oh. Right. Tokoyami had completely forgotten he'd said all that. Bakugo continued. "Well, your not doing that shit anymore. You're gonna be a fucking hero, and your stupid dad can shove it." He shouted, gaining the attention of those outside.

"Why's Bakugo yelling at Tokoyami?" Mina asked, spoon still in her mouth. "He better not be starting a fight!" Iida chided loudly. Yaomomo laughed. "Tokoyami looked tired, it must be about that." She said, knowing damn well that wasnt the problem. She, Jirou and Deni had seen their friend going for the closet. They were all grateful to Bakugo for pulling up on it.

They all noticed it. Bakugo was still an ass, but stopped calling Denki stupid, or any variation of the word. He instead told him he 'didnt do as bad a job' and pat his shoulder. Denki's self esteem rocketed upwards quickly. Bakugo thanked Yaomomo more often for using her quirk, and drank her tea when no one else would. Jirou wasnt excluded either, Bakugo got her water after every practice and told her that her music was cool. And everytime Tokoyami seemed too distant for Bakugo's liking, he pulled the bird-headed teen away from the crowd for a little while.

Bakugo did little things to help them. Like staying up to help Tokoyami through another nightmare, or take care of Denki when his brain fried. Small things that meant the world to the rest of the band.

And they returned the gestures, Denki always plugging in the extra controller even though Bakugo said no. Or Yaomomo making a note of what tea Bakugo liked and making it for him on a bad day. Jirou giving him headphones when the noise was too much, and Tokoyami letting Bakugo have one of his extra fluffy blankets whenever he'd have a bad night.

They all helped each other on their own ways. Aziawa noticed, obviously, but found it sweet. Those kids needed each other. Hell, there would come a time when they may have to depend on the other. And Aziawa knew well enough there would be times they would break.

He was glad to know they had each others back.

This one was short and sweet, hope you enjoyed! :D

[poptod]

Habromania (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: You’re happy in a way that indicates it’s only politeness. He catches you when the facade slips - and it’s a thick coverup. 

Notes: A lot of my characters are pretty happy and content with their lives. I thought maybe it’s been too long since I’ve made my readers suffer. So, kinda angsty, I guess. Sorry, it’s not very good, I promise I’ll make something better

Word Count: 3.4k

Warning: Mentions of rape and abuse.

He’s here on another social visit, Ahkmen thinks to himself scathingly, almost glaring at the mayor - it’s impolite of him to do so, so he attempts not to. It’s not a very strong attempt, which he only knows because the mayor eyes him oddly before turning back to his father. Recently, Thebes’ mayor Piye has been visiting Memphis all too frequently, and the reason why baffles everyone, including Ahkmen’s mother. The only possible reason Ahkmen can fathom is that Piye and his father, Merenkahre, just get along very well and enjoy each others’ company, but the trips leave Thebes weak and neither of them listen to any warnings from himself or any other advisor or family member.

This time, however, when the usual greetings have finished, Piye steps to the side - there’s someone hiding behind him. Ahkmen leans to the side just slightly, just barely catching a better view of you before you fully uncover yourself. Piye introduces you as his eldest child, who apparently is usually in charge of taking care of Thebes during Piye’s visits to Memphis, but this time you’re here; your younger sibling has come of age to be able to take care of the city in the mayor’s absence.

You introduce yourself by name as Eydis, bowing to his father and thanking him for welcoming you to his city. There’s a grace to your movements, shaky and too-well practiced to be natural. In scrutiny he watches you, the shiver of your lower lip and the jolt of your eyelid when you stare Pharaoh in the eye - there’s something different behind your eyes than what you show. That raw life catches his thoughts as your attention darts to him, ensnaring him in a strange trance where he can do naught but wonder what person you’ve never shown you are.

In a breath the moment vanishes, and he’s unsure if it really did happen or if he thought it all up. Either way his father dismisses the crowd at large, and a servant comes up to take your luggage into guest rooms for your stay. He doesn’t follow, as much as he’d like to - instead he asks his father in a hushed voice where you’re staying, and his father answers with Piye’s consent.

“You have my permission to court Eydis, if you’d like,” Piye adds, before whispering to Merenkahre - though, Ahkmen can hear what he’s saying perfectly clear. “I’d much prefer your eldest son,” is what he says, and even though he had no intentions of courting you in the first place, the words spark a deep annoyance in him.

“I just wanted to introduce myself properly,” he tells the two men curtly, turning away before they could get another word in. He still hears his father whisper ‘teenagers,’ to the mayor, and he still hears the two of them laughing goodheartedly. All it does is annoy him further, to the point where it’s not a great idea to introduce himself to anybody, least of all you - you’re not royalty, but you’re very close, and despite what he thinks he saw he still needs a semblance of politeness in affairs with you.

Instead, in an attempt to calm down, he visits the water gardens of the palace where he usually finds peace - running water is a pleasant sound, and one that works easily on him as always. Flowers and lilies fill the pond in their spring bloom, pink and white hues splattering the pastel blue of the water. There’s a special serenity in the birdsong, he notes, watching wind rustle through brush. Maybe I should bring Eydis some flowers, he thinks for a while, staring at the long petals of red, drooping flowers, before remembering he’s not trying to court you.

Right, he thinks, thumbing at the soft, pollen filled center. Not courting.

With a particularly strong breeze he glances upwards and sees you, fingering at the leaves of vines overhanging the garden walls. Sunbeams enhance a loving glow round everything you touch, leaving him baffled at how you can touch anything and he thinks it’s instantly more special. It’s really not, he tries to convince himself of this, but the urge to pick the flowers and leaves you hold doesn’t go away; instead it speeds his heart rate as you grow closer, still staring at the leaves in a listless wander.

Despite his best efforts to think the right thoughts, he finds himself comparing you to the flower, and deciding that you’d look very nice with a flower in your hair. So, diplomacy blown to the wind he picks the flower from its’ stem, and makes his slow way over to you.

“Hi,” he says, and it comes out as barely a breath - you turn to him, doe eyes looking over him for the second time that day. It’s electrifying, and it makes him very, very anxious. “I… I wanted to properly introduce myself, properly, that is. I’m Ahkmen, son of the Pharaoh.” He holds the flower in front of him, unsure of how to give it to you, and unsure of how well you’d receive it; it occurs to him that you could be a very mean-natured person, but when you smile and giggle a flutter alights his soul with nervous admiration. With a soft grace you take the flower, admiring first its’ scent, then the color, before setting it behind your ear.

“Thank you,” you say, with that same tone of polite curtness. “I am Eydris. It’s nice to meet you officially. My father speaks of you highly.”

“Really?” He asks, furrowing his brow. Piye wasn’t always the nicest person to him, so the fact that he even spoke about him was alarming. “Well, um.. that’s good. I wasn’t… um, are… will you be joining my family for, uh, dinner tonight?” Internally he curses himself for his clumsy wording, but you don’t seem to mind.

“I follow where my father leads, so, yes,” you answer, and when you fiddle with the shawl you wear he almost forgets what the question was.

“Oh! Um, good. I’ll - I’ll see you then,” he finally gets out when he comes back into himself, and with that he walks away on shaking legs, putting as much distance between the two of you as he could manage. When he reaches the threshold separating the palace halls from the garden he peeks back to you, and finds a sight he holds forever in his mind. You’re smiling to yourself, distant from your own body as your fingers brush against the flower in your hair - a soft blush coats your cheeks, and when you turn in his direction he immediately hides again. Somewhere in that meeting, curiosity turned to infatuation. 

I don’t know what’s wrong with me, he thinks to himself on the way to the kitchen. I’m acting like a five year old with a crush.

In the kitchen he sorts out the seating arrangements as well as the dinner to be made. Of course, he seats you next to himself, on your left; to your right is his younger brother, who would pose no problems. Kahmuh or Khafra might flirt with you, which he doesn’t feel like taking a chance around, but Khufu isn’t yet in the stage of romantic attraction. He thinks out the arrangement in his head, and it comes out perfectly that evening - with a small smile you sit between him and his brother. Across from the pair of you is Piye, sitting right next to the head of the table, of course taken by Ahkmen’s father.

Thankfully it all goes rather well, despite the fact he doesn’t say a word to you the entire evening. Instead you’re caught up in conversation with your father and the Pharaoh, who has never met you before, and shows a polite interest in you. Khufu gets your attention every now and then, and certainly has a stronger bond with you than Ahkmen does, which irritates him. There’s no way you’re interested in him romantically, Ahkmen convinces himself, considering Khufu is about five or six years younger than you.

By the end, when the dinner is finished you excuse yourself with a bow and a thanks for the food. Neither Merenkahre or Piye show any adversity to your leaving, though there’s an obvious disappointment in Ahkmen, who shrinks into his seat and crosses his arms. The rest of the table, excluding the fathers, leaves soon after as servants come by to pick up the dishes, and Ahkmen decides he might as well pay you a visit, considering he didn’t get to talk to you.

It takes a little bit of work but he eventually remembers which room you’re staying in (which is, somehow, very near his), and, hoping he looks alright, he heads on his way to you. When he approaches the large, wooden door of the guest room his silent footsteps make way for him to hear something, something very odd, coming from your room.

After a good minute or two of listening, his ear pressed against your door, he realizes it’s you singing, muffled and broken, and it’s unlike any song he’s ever heard before. He’d say it’s a different genre, but it goes beyond that. Ultimately, he decides it’s unearthly, which isn’t too strange for you - you yourself are unearthly, in your movements and presentation of self. Every now and then you stop singing, and there’s another sound he can’t distinguish.

When a servant passes by him in the hall, eyeing him oddly, he knocks on the door, pretending he hadn’t been listening for several minutes. Instantly you stop, make your way to the door, and open it.

“Hi,” he manages to say, your eyes settled on him intently. “I - I thought you might want to, uh, take a walk with me…?”

You don’t respond for a moment, but a smile breaks across your face as you look shyly to the ground.

“Alright. I’d like that. I’ll… I’ll have to change my clothes,” you tell him softly, shutting the door quietly and leaving him in the hall, heart thumping louder than anything. Time passes slow as he waits for you, his heart doing a terrible job of counting the seconds - it goes far too fast, messing up his rhythm and making him sweat nervously, which only makes him more anxious that you’d notice it when you saw him again. Swallowing, he tries to convince his body to settle down with deep breaths, which does the trick until you return.

Creaking, the door opens, your fingers curled around the edge of it as it does. When you fully emerge from your room, he notices the sheer cloth you wore before has been exchanged for warmer clothes, which he doesn’t fault you for; evenings get much cooler, especially where’s planning on taking you, though you don’t know where that is. With a small bow you take his hand, and trying to keep a calm composure, he leads you down to the gardens.

Unlike the water gardens, this one majors in fauna, decorating every surface and lacing over every wall. There’s a clear path that winds down the center of it, lined by bushes trimmed daily by caretakers. In the leftover light of a sunset long gone he introduces you to every nook he knows, every seating area and outlook to a beautiful view, and throughout the entire time you’re very quiet - he doubts you’ve said more than five words by the time you’ve made a full circle round the garden. You’re still holding his hand though, which he takes as a good sign; he’s cold from wind blowing north to south, and your hand is the only warmth he has. He does his best to appreciate it.

“You’re very… odd. In a good way,” he remarks as the two of you stay seated on a bench sitting under hanging vines.

“How so?” You ask, a slight pout that makes him stutter soft on your lips.

“I… it’s.. you’ve got.. layers. It - it feels like there’s.. like there’s a lot more to you than what you show, if that makes any sense,” he says, trying his absolute best to describe what he’s noticed. The smile that was barely there fades fully away from you as you turn away, releasing his hand.

“I’m sorry, I… I have to go,” you say quickly, standing, and before he can even process what you’ve said, you’re gone.

He’s left alone, confused, and horribly worried that he’s offended you in some way - it’s a state he remains in for the rest of the night, plaguing his thoughts as he tries to sleep. In his dreams he hopes desperately that it hasn’t hurt relations between your cities, but there’s no way to know; at least not until morning.

For the next several days you avoid him like he’s deathly sick, barely glancing his way when he enters the room and leaving soon as possible. You don’t mention the incident to your father, which he thanks the Gods for, but your avoidance still hurts him. Throughout your stay he passes by your door, trying not to think of you every time he walks to his room, trying to avoid the urge to open the door and talk to you, which he does quite well till he hears crying.

Slowly, his hand pressed to the wood of the door he opens it, finding you curled up on the bed, your back to him.

“Eydris?” He calls to you softly, watching you turn with a jump, quickly getting off the bed and stumbling backwards.

“I - Ahkmen, I didn’t - you weren’t supposed to see that,” you say, your voice broken as you sniff.

“It’s alright, I don’t mind… are you okay?” He asks, shutting the door behind him when he enters.

“I’m fine,” you tell him using a voice that has never sounded less fine, turning away. He moves to stand in front of you, holding your hands as you try to blink away tears, still sniffling.

“Sure, now what’s wrong?”

Not once do you meet his eye - you’re always looking at something else, often in a completely different direction. It begs the question, what’s got you so afraid that you can’t even stand to look at him?

“I miss my mother,” you say, a defeated whine in the undertones of your speech. For a moment he’s left confused, wondering what to do when you press your face into his chest, hiding away from the world in his comfort.

“Your… mother?”

To his knowledge, you didn’t have a mother. Piye never took a wife, instead adopting children who were abandoned - it was a noble gesture, but now, watching you cry, he finds himself wondering if it was so goodhearted after all.

“It’s foolish, I know,” you choke out, wrapping your arms around his middle, hugging him tight. It’s an affection he welcomes easily, comfort and uncertainty all wrapped into one when you touch him.

“It’s not, not at all,” he murmurs, winding his fingers in your hair and stroking. “I wasn’t aware you knew your mother.”

“I knew my father too. I don’t… I shouldn’t be saying this.”

“… why not?”

You’re silent for a good, long while, waiting till you calm down before explaining. Patiently he stands with you, resting his chin on the top of your head that fits so well underneath him. For him you’re the perfect size, though it’s not a thought that crosses his mind; your state of distress is far more important.

“I can’t believe I’m trusting you, but... you’ve been so nice to me. You can’t say anything, to anyone,” you say, pulling away from his warmth to look him in the eye. Hesitantly, he nods, wondering what could be so horrid to never tell another soul.

With a shaky breath, you sit beside him on the bed, and your story unravels.

“I lived with my mother and father in a village near Amarna. We weren’t very well to do, but they loved me very much. Piye came one day, saw our state of living.. he decided for me that I’d do better living with him. Of course I didn’t leave easily, so I… he bound my hands, and my feet,” you glance at him, a look of utter trust and disgust towards yourself plain in your eyes. It’s unsettling, more than anything he’s ever heard, but he lets you continue. “And his treatment didn’t… didn’t really get better. He.. sometimes he hurts me,” you mumble, tears burning your downcast eyes. “Sometimes he uses me.”

“Uses you…?” Ahkmen asks, unsure of what you mean. You glance at him, fiddling with your robes, before turning your gaze back to your hands when you find no clarity in him.

“Sexually,” you clarify, clearing your throat as the word comes out coarse. His breathing halts, an anger unknown boiling at his fingertips as the very sudden urge to punch Piye comes over him. Instead, he calms himself, holds your cheek in his hand, and asks you a question.

“How can I help you?”

“I just want to go home,” you mumble, defeated as your head rests against his shoulder.

Even though his education is high, and he has access to any knowledge or story he wishes, he’s never come across something so dark before - it hits him in the stomach, sickening him in a way he’s never felt before. With no idea what to do except acquiesce your requests, he does so. Damn the consequence, he tells himself, already thinking up ways to sneak you out of the palace.

“It may not be safe,” he tells you, and begins to bring up other ideas. “You could stay with me, or I could tell my father. He despises violence.”

“No, no,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “I don’t want Piye to know I told anyone. He’ll hurt me.” Your grasp on his arm tightens, the fabric hanging there bundled in your hold.

“He won’t. Not if my father knows.”

He desperately wants you to stay, to live with him. To him, it’s a paradise on earth if you stay, to be able to see your beauty at his convenience, to watch your smile when he gives you a flower to match your elegance. He tries every solution he can think of, anything to make you want to stay with him, but you’re adamant.

“I just want to go home,” you repeat, broken and soft, and in that moment he learns that the best thing for him isn’t always the best thing for everybody else. You need to go home, and he will help you at any cost.

“I’ll get you there, I promise,” he says, avoiding every hint he could give that he doesn’t like this outcome. For the first time you smile, a real smile, and he could cry at how adoring it is. He nearly does, holding back when you hug him so tight he can hardly breathe.

The moon settles high in the sky and he takes you down to the gates of the city, where ships lay docked, several guards and merchants wandering around. He talks to a merchant who looks trustworthy enough, and pays a fare for a journey up the nile, slipping him more to keep quiet. To be safe he travels with you for two days, staying by your side every moment he can till your home is in sight.

When it docks, you practically jump out of the boat, running home through the common streets out into the straggling edges of Amarna. Attempting (very poorly) to keep up with your pace he follows you, watching you shroud yourself in the arms of your parents, your real parents. At your return they cry, and the three of you drop to the ground, overjoyed at your return. Ahkmen watches, keeping his distance till you motion for him to join you.

“I don’t know how many laws you broke for me,” you say, hugging him and burying your head in his chest, “but thank you. A thousand times, thank you.”

You’re not wearing the overly decorated clothes you wore when he first saw you - you’re not wearing jewelry or golden arm bands, but you look happier, more full of life than ever before. He decides he’s done a good thing, perhaps the first real good thing he’s done, and simultaneously decides the consequences don’t matter.

You’re happy; he won’t ever see you again, but you’re happy. It’s all that really matters to him. 

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

Sorry for bothering you, but I couldn't help but wonder, what do you think of Janus' playlist? After several days of analysing it, I'm so overwhelmed with all the emotions towards the snake boy! The character potential, possible development, ideas for fics are just bashing me on the head and heart! I would love to hear your thoughts on the matter. Lots of love and have a good day! P.S. Expect some requests for songfics for sure!

It's not a bother, thank you for asking! Oh I have many feelings, as I usually do for all the playlists but this one...man. Hope you like long answers XD

First just the overall impression is great. I love the sort of contradicting roaring 1920s nihilistic aesthetic. Makes me think of a tired anti-hero, their cape swirling behind them as they turn away from the chaos, knowing they'll have a mess to clean up later but for right now they would very much enjoy a glass of wine. Its smooth. Its jazzy. It's dark. Its nostalgic in a different way from Patton, where instead of tugging softly at your heartstrings it settles a weight on your shoulders. Not in a bad way, just like someone added an extra five pounds of awareness to what you were already carrying, if that makes sense?

He boils down to an emo with class for me and I love it.

I'm not gonna go song by song but heres a few thoughts.

I absolutely love Black Hole Sun being on it as a vintage cover. Soundgarden is such a good band and this song in particular is one of my favorites, right up there with Tighter and Tighter and Spoonman. It's a dark song that has contrasting themes and means different things to different people, which is perfect for Janus' outlook on life and Thomas. And of course the reference to the snake fits right in.

It Seemed The Better Way is one of my favorites on the list. The style of the song and Leonard Cohen's voice reminds of Mark Lanegan's style and is so soothing.

Talking at the same time just made me think of all the Sides talking through a dilemma but really just arguing and talking over one another, contradicting each other and themselves in the process. It makes me want to bang all their heads together and yell "COMMUNICATION BITCH" which I really hope season 3 addresses the important of good and healthy communication and it takes the last side to do it but I digress. It's a song that points out unfairness and frustrating contradictions and I love that the angsty snake likes this song.

Scarlett Johansens Trust On Me is one I'm posting a fanart of soon, it put such a clear image in my head of Janus smoothly talking to Thomas about listening to him and taking care of himself while below surface level hes desperately trying to hold this vision together of everything being fine while the world crumbles. It's just Tbomas walking along with his sides as they smile as the sunshine while Janus is stumbling behind with an old umbrella, batting away dead branches with his staff while everyone else is oblivious.

Mandy Goes To Med School. Janus canonically listens to the Dredston Dolls and no one else I've ever met listens to them or knows who they are and it fills me with unreasonable happiness that someone on the team got this song on the playlist. Many have interpreted this song as back alley abortions and illegal sex changes, both elective surgeries that have consequences if done improperly. I honestly think the bare bones of this song apply to Janus. Percieved "selfishness over selflessness" and the consequences being up in the air for both. A sort of damned if you do, damned if you dont situation, which definitely paints Janus, at least for me, as a world weary tired ex-optimist who's experiences have shaped his perception of the world in a way that can be hard for others to understand. I think this song fits him to a T.

Evil Night Together makes me think of him, Remus and Virgil just having a ball of a night causing chaos together and laughing all the way through. It fills me with a lot of happiness thinking of the idiocy those three got up to when they were on better terms with each other.

Dont Tell Mama...makes me way too excited fr the last dark side. I get this strong feeling from the song the Janus very much works in the shadows, to the point where hes even a bit secluded from the other 'dark sides' to an extent. Maybe the last one is someone who really tries to run the show and wouldnt be pleased with what Janus is trying to do. Not saying Mystery Orange is evil, none of them are.

I feel like You're A Cad is a comment on him and Virgils relationship. The way that they are now, secretive and closed off, a friendship cant really work between them but they keep coming back no matter how many times they broke eachothers trust. I don't think Janus and Virgil hate each other, I just think they need to communicate better like everyone else does but they kept trying without knowing how and hurting each other in the process.

As Far As I Can See feels like a self deprecating view point that all the "dark sides" have and it makes me want to hug not only him but Remus, Virgil and even Orange until they feel even a little bit better. In this house we love and appreciate our good bad boys.

Change. Okay first: the first line of this song is "theres something in the wind" and in Sally's Song on Virgils playlist the first line is "I sense theres something in the wind." Coincidence maybe and probably but I'm holding out for Remus' for the third. 'Lately, I've been thinkin' it's just someone else's job to care Who am I to sympathize when no one gave a damn?' is such an OOF I just cant. I strongly feel like this is Janus rethinking what his purpose could possibly be if no one is willing to listen. Could apply to Logan too but he has Erase Me already so.....

Come Little Children by Erutan. That's it, Janus also canonically also listens to the Willow Maid and cries the first time he heard no you cant change my mind. He also watches Hocus Pocus every year and loves it. Remus joins him. Virgil did when they were on better terms. You also cant change my mind on this. I think this song is just commenting on how Janus hides the truth for Thomas so he can see the world from a better perspective than what it actually is. Self preservation and lying to ourselves and all that.

Into The Unknown from Over the Garden Wall I think is telling us everything is changing and revealing itself the farther we go with Thomas' dilemmas. They're all stemming from somewhere so where will we end up? Who can say, but in the meantime aren't the lies we're telling ourselves pretty? Janus is observing everything falling apart and hoping he isn't lying when he tells himself everything will work itself out. Only time will tell. It's a sad, longing note to end the playlist on, but it's very fitting.

Overall this playlist cements the fact the the Angst Train really just said "Choo choo mothfucker" and steamrolled on regardless of the fact that were stuck on the tracks. And I love it.

Janus is a sad, angsty boy tired of everyone's bullshit and honestly just wants everyone to get along so he can finally sit back and play his game cube without his gloves on in the common room of the mindscape without being hissed or glared at, and is that really too much to ask? Also, he's crying in the art on spotify, with such a resigned look on his face and I just...my heart.

Sorry this is so long, like I said I have a lot of feelings. Add your own thoughts if you like, you and anyone else who wants to. This is my interpretation of only some of the songs so of course there are more and different things worth mentioning. This is a judgement free blog where all opinions are welcome.

[falling-rivers]

The Year Of The Sun

Hi I'm here to explain the weird new hashtag you might have seen on my last post.

Something you might need to know about me is that in the last few years, I've turned to and have been studying different practices of paganism. A lot of it stemmed from one of my followers letting me know that something I'd written about was a closed practice and I realized more research was needed so that I didn’t offend anyone. That’s the last thing I want to do, of course, so I delved into discord servers, podcasts, reading books, visiting metaphysical stores, buying crystals, pendulums, tarot cards… and learning as much as I possibly could about all of this. All of this really did start as research, but the more I learned, the more I connected with it, and here I am, almost two years later, really, with the decision to just own it. It is part of who I am now.

My parents were less than thrilled about this. I’m pretty sure my mom is still convinced I'm summoning demons, even though the most I've done is read tarot daily to get a feel for what problems I might encounter during the day (kind of like a morning “heads up, this is the mood of the day" kind of thing), and leaving out offerings for a couple deities I've felt drawn to (as well as our house spirits!) And warded the house because protection is important always.

Which is where we come to that new hashing you might have noticed: “The Year of the Sun.” The Sun is one of the Major Arcana of the Tarot (so one of the overarching theme cards of the deck). It’s a card that, upright, represents positivity, joy, success, and celebration (among other similar concepts). Each deck has similar meanings for this card, but the general idea is that it is the card, when upright, represents positive, good things. (Side note, reversed, or upside down meanings of this card are somewhat opposite meanings, like negativity and depression. I don’t want those things for my year).

Am including below a picture of the imagery from the deck I use most often to give you all a visual representation of what I'm talking about. (Side note: the Rider Waite Smith deck, which is one of the better recognized and more widely known decks, depicts a small child riding a white horse underneath a smiling sun on their Sun card. I dont use that deck so I dont connect with that imagery).

For this year, I want the positive meanings that the Sun represents. I intend to make it happen, come hell or high water. I’ve started a gratitude journal. I'm recognizing my negative thoughts and mentally poking them apart to self diagnose why I think that specific thing, and try to reframe my thoughts in a more positive way. For example: where I live, we have a lot of rain and gray skies throughout the year, which has like likely contributed to me sinking into a comfortable, angsty sad over the years. Now, trying to stay more positive, trying to think more positively, yeah, it might be raining, but plants are being watered. And heavy rain is soothing and means hot chocolate and cuddles with people I care about.

I realize none of this has to do with writing, and is more of a personal update into my own life. If you feel uncomfortable because of this post and the spiritual aspects I've mentioned, you are welcome to unfollow me, because again, the last thing I want to do is offend people or make them uncomfortable with my personal life. And if you don’t want to see any of the updates from this year, you can block the hashing I've added to personal posts for the year.

Update re: absence will be out within the week. It’s a long one and I’m still in the process of redrafting it. Thanks for being awesome, everyone.

[bbq-hawks-wings]

I AM HERE W/ THE NEW IDEA! this time it’s a bit more angsty since most of it stems from the music video/song by Lauv called Superhero (if you watch it, it would make more sense I think) but to summarize the story was about a guy who has a long distance relationship with a girl & when they met up they had a very bad fight so he went to lauv’s concert alone & wrote a note saying “I met a superhero. I lost her. I want her back.” & left it in a box that lauv had ppl leave notes of their feelings PT1

PT 2 so lauv found this note and made it into the song. Anyway this song hits me with all the emotions, mainly ones of longing and missed love so I thought it could turn into a story scenario for Hawks. I feel like they would’ve gotten together at first when they were younger but then had a terrible falling out that led to a lengthy over the years separation. I really want to see what his inner thoughts and emotions would be like & how he would go about to get her back if he tried to. It can end happily with a reunion/them getting back together if it suits your fancy! Bonus points for using lines from the song (I met a superhero. I lost her. I want her back. OR Cause they say if you love her let her go. They say if it’s meant to be you’ll know. OR Don’t want to talk about it. I was so wrong about it. Can’t do a thing about it now.) I hope this all makes sense and sparks some inspiration :)❣️

~*~*~

So much of his young life was spent running towards some new goal, some new test, or some new record. A young middle school boy who might otherwise be spending his spare time playing video games and hanging out with his friends was instead drilling and training every aspect of himself mental and physical. He was taught to not mind his peers. They were peripheral and inconsequential.The only ones who mattered were those in ahead of him to catch up, and everyone else would slowly fall behind as he overtook them. It was cold, calculating, and impersonal. For that budding young man, who should have been learning how to interact with others to build an interpersonal network for his own sake and learn how to express the overflowing new, nuanced emotions welling up in him, he was left in a sterile, minimalist box- taught instead to shut himself down. There was no room for fear, for doubt, for rebellion, for individuality. He toed the line, held an unfeeling gaze forward, and awaited instruction like he’d been taught his whole life.

That is, until she showed up.

She also trained, but when told to jump she never asked how high - just leapt as far as she could go. She listened, but she questioned every lesson taught, trying to punch holes in flimsy logic and fill in gaps of knowledge as she went. She was fierce and competitive, taking on and taking down every challenger; and she picked herself up and learned from the fights she never should have started. But she was also kind and curious, poking her nose from behind shoulders that found her annoying and offering help to those struggling even when their obviously-hurt pride would assure that they would never accept it. She challenged everything he had been taught, everything instilled in him; but she did it with a smile and he hated it. He especially hated how she made him want to be more than just a glorified mercenary but want to be a good person.

“You’re annoying.” Was the monotone reply when she offered to help him with the self-study assignment he’d been struggling with.

“Yeah, well if you don’t figure out this assignment, the schoolmaster will discipline you.” He hated that she was right, but he didn’t want help.

“Why are you like that?”

“Like what?”

“Why do you work so hard to do other things for people? You don’t exactly have the best marks either.” He looked up from his desk to look her in the eye.

“Well, that’s what being a hero is all about, right? We help people to the best of our ability.” That was a line he’d heard parroted by a lot of people; it wasn’t the philosophy he’d had drummed into him about the subject; but it was never one he’d heard spoken so sincerely in this place, either.

“You really believe that?”

“Well, if we don’t then what’s the point of all this training?”

To be someone’s puppet? Their ace in the hole? Someone to get their hands dirty for someone else’s sake. “To be the best.” was his reply.

“The best what and why? I know there’s people here looking to make it big through this job, but I think the real cream of the crop are going to be those not in it for themselves.”

“Hmph…” He thought there might be truth in what she said, but he wasn’t yet ready to admit that.

“So how’s after school?”

“Fine.”

Studies became commonplace for the two. So did practice drills and sparring. Things became warm between them. The ice carefully hardened around his heart melted layer by layer until he became warm as the sun itself whenever he walked into a room. They were both fire, and he found himself fond of her.

Come high school they were inseparable. The two’s performance was neck and neck, but they considered themselves a team. Yet, it was undeniable that Hawks was able to do just a bit more, push a little harder, hold a greater margin for error than she could. It was the only point of contention between them - not because of rivalry, but of his overbearing protectiveness.

“I’m not a child! I can take care of myself!”

“Except for when you can’t. Someday you might push yourself too far, and then what?”

“And what do you suggest to make you feel better? Are you gonna babysit me forever?”

“No, I ju-”

“I’m my own person. I chose this life. I may not ever be as strong as you, but I can be amazing; and I’ll do it without your help.”

It had finally come to a head. Though disagreements had always happened, this was the first one that left a permanent rift. He wanted to and often tried to remedy the relationship between them, but she avoided him - sometimes it seemed she was still angry, but others it seemed she was embarrassed. Either way, graduation came and went, and he found himself alone.

It was lonely at the top. He had risen so high so quickly that he didn’t make many friends at all on the way up. He had graduated, and by the end of the next year he was in the top ten making names, selling merch, and performing interviews.

“So, Hawks, you’ve risen so quickly through the ranks! You must have had some real drive to make it this far. What was your inspiration?”

“Well, you see…” he had intended to stick to the scripted answer, but something about the studio lights and camera flashes and the nostalgic nature of the question clouded his thoughts and he found himself wandering.

“I met a superhero, and I lost her, and… I want her back. She’s ok and isn’t anywhere as well-known as I am, but she’s the reason I’m here now. She said that the best of the best will be because they aren’t doing it for themselves, so I can only do so much being here for selfish reasons, but she deserves to hear that she’s the reason I’m here, and I’ll be waiting for her!”

Had the nature of such “live” interviews not truly been live that take wouldn’t have been cut from the broadcast, but at least he had put it out into the air and admitted it to himself. Now he could continue hoping to see her again.

[thekaijux]

Fandom ask thing: Godzilla

Whew boy, I’ve beenputting this off for too long…

Let’s be real here: thisone HAD to be asked eventually. XD Since my Godzilla knowledge stems prettydeep, I’m going to do something akin to the Pokemon Ask where I’ll havemultiple answers per sector. So… Let’s begin!

Favorite Male Character

THE MATTHEW BRODERICKCHARAC– XD Nah, I’m just pulling legs here. Though truth be told, I think I’mgoing to emphasize more of the humans / aliens here as opposed to the monsters,if only because I feel like there are some very strong characters littered throughoutthe franchise that I feel need / deserve more recognition. But for anyone curious about the monsters, just know that Iabsolutely love all monsters from the Godzilla series and the greater Tohouniverse.

While a lot ofrightful praise goes to Dr. Serizawa from the 1954 classic Gojira for his complexity and torn humanity of what’s right (a la,keep the Oxygen Destroyer a secret or use it to kill Godzilla), I’d actuallylike to point to his quote-unquote “counterpart” from 1984′s The Return of Godzilla, Dr. Hayashida.He’s a man who went into the scientific field to exact his revenge on Godzilla,only to mature over the course of 30 years and let it go. Honestly, the dudehas complexity, and it’s a nice subversion to the whole “obsessiverevenge” trope. There’s wisdom and mystique to Hayashida that I don’t think hasbeen recaptured, and part of that can be attributed to the late YosukeNatsuki’s performance. Stellar work.

Likewise, for thealiens, a ton of rightful praise goes to the Xilien Controller from Invasion of Astro-Monster (or, Godzilla vs. Monster Zero). I think inmany ways, if he didn’t blatantly state that they were using magnetic waves andif humanity didn’t have the ability to pull a new weapon out of its arse, hewould have conquered Earth. While it’s still obvious he’s the villain, there’sa certain calculative, methodical cunningness to his personality (at least forbeing a 1960s Sci-Fi alien from a script that was written on the fly) that I thoroughlyenjoy each time I watch Astro-Monster. 

Favorite Female Character

Personal favorite ofthe G-series’ ladies goes to the Xilien agent Miss Namikawa from Astro-Monster.She’s a stellar femme fatale who, in many respects, helps save the world at theend of the day. Being played by the beautiful Kumi Mizuno really helps, haha.

Additionally, KatsuraMafune is another great addition to the Godzilla series. While the executionwasn’t perfect, I do enjoy the melodrama of Terrorof Mechagodzilla, and Katsura’s arc was easily one of the highlights.

Least Favorite Character

Out of these… Myleast favorite I’m sadly giving to the Kilaaks. Granted, I think the Nebulansare also kinda on the low-ranking scale for me, but the Kilaaks are a biggerdisappointment to me because they felt like carbon copies of the Xiliens. Andunlike the Nebulans, the Kilaaks don’t have any new monsters! Well, there’s theFire Dragon, but that’s only a Kilaak UFO. Ghidorah reaaaaaally could’ve used the help there! Now that’s not to say I absolutely loathe themor despise them; but then comes the issue that they’re too bland to even beangry about. XD

Favorite Ship

Glenn and Namikawa,easily. ;) Even if the screentime for their relationship is sparse, you do geta feeling from those two, especially when Namikawa’s killed. Glenn’s reactionis damn well genuine and leads toprobably one of my favorite lines from the movie. An alternative, if I had togive any, would be Miki and Godzilla. :P

Favorite Friendship

JET JAGUAR IS EVERYONE’SBEST FRIEND SHUT UP.

Okay, whew… Stillstrictly speaking humans, this one is generally harder for me to pin down whatmy favorite friendship would be. If I had to go off the top of my head, thesibling relationship between Shindo and Naoko in Ghidorah, the Three-Headed Monster is a lot of fun. Dare I say, Ithink the good guys from Ebirah, Horrorof the Deep (or, Godzilla vs. the SeaMonster) are a treat to watch interact. Same could be said for theprotagonists of Godzilla vs.SpaceGodzilla, even if the movie is rough on the edges.

Favorite Quote

For the sake of my ownsanity, I’m only going to roll with one—and I think everyone can take a goodguess to what it is.

“Nature has a way sometimes of reminding Manof just how small he is. She occasionally throws up terrible offspring’s of ourpride and carelessness to remind us of how puny we really are in the face of atornado, an earthquake, or a Godzilla. The reckless ambitions of Man are oftendwarfed by their dangerous consequences. For now, Godzilla - that strangelyinnocent and tragic monster - has gone to earth. Whether he returns or not, oris never again seen by human eyes, the things he has taught us remain…”

Worst Character Death (if any)

Katagiri’s death, nodoubt. Being the personal target to the King of the Monsters himself? You knowyou’ve done goofed. It’s even worse in the manga adaptation.

This made me so happy you have no idea Moment

It’s hard for me toimmediately recall a moment with the human characters that made me flee gleefuland excited… Though a moment that immediately comes to mind is Yuko’s speechfrom Mothra vs. Godzilla (the ’64 film).Ya’ll should know what I’m talking about.

Saddest Moment

OH LORDIE, SEEING MIKISAD MAKES ME SAD. ;_; I also have to point out Akane Yashiro (even if she’sjust a bit angsty) and Sara Yuhara from GodzillaAgainst Mechagodzilla are incredibly depressing, especially Sara. She losther mother, with only a little plant serving as her last connection, and shewonders why she couldn’t be brought back with the same technology used forKiryu. Katsura’s suicide and Namikawa’s execution are also heavy hitters.

Favorite Location

Okay,so I’ll be honest, I’ve put this one off for so long, I can’t remember what Iwas originally going to say. Darn you past self for not leaving any notes! XDSo I’m just going to pull one straight from the top of my head: Birth Island.From SpaceGodzilla. Because that had a REALLY pretty and romantic sunset.

There,I’m done. XD Sorry it took this long to respond, just been BUSY. Ugh. But I hope ya’ll enjoy it! :)

[fmdtaeyongarchive]

↬ when i hold you, it’s the price i pay to handle it later.

date: approximately december 24, 2019 to late january 2020.

location: unspecified airbnb / ash’s apartment studio.

word count: 1,898 words, without lyrics.

summary: n/a.

triggers: n/a.

notes: creative claims verification. a lot of mentions of youngjoo because ash is stupid and angsty and refuses to use his brain. also a brief mention of alcohol. if this looks familiar, it’s because i rewrote parts of a previous verification for a song i ended up dropping (since, fun fact, when i first started writing this verification, it was for this song anyway).

i.

he writes an entire verse in one of the brief spans of time youngjoo is out of the room on the night of his birthday. she’s absent from the room but present in his mind, her wide eyes that shine in a way when she laughs that makes him forget she’s five years older than him and the way her eyebrows knit together whenever he lets something mildly concerning slip through in his speech because he’s grown too relaxed in her presence. they’ve spent enough time together as of late for his memories of each of her microexpressions to be almost as vivid as they had been when they’d been dating and he’s growing steadily aware that the time they’ve dedicated to one another and the distance that barely exists between them is dangerous.

whatever it is that all of this means puts the delicate balance they’ve struck at risk. he pushes the concern down, strangles it with the pile of blankets he’d gathered from around the house and brought to the bed they’ll be sharing that night to stay warm, but it keeps coming back bruised and battered and determined to ruin this small piece of peace for him.

he writes the lyrics on a page of the notebook he’d brought in his luggage in case he’d needed to write without the temptation of ruining his attempt at disconnecting from the outside world. his messy scrawl fills the upper left corner of the page in a fluid motion from the first letter to the last.

i’ve been thinking of you all day all the time everyday every night 24 hours, always i think about you

even without a voice to it, it’s a confession in his native tongue and he’s not sure why it comes to him in english instead of korean, but he doesn’t question it as he scrawls the words out onto paper in his nearly unreadable handwriting.

it’s not quite romantic, even if it seems that way, unless desperation is romantic. it can be at times. this isn’t one of those times. it’s more the cries of a boy lost in the deep dark cave of his own feelings than a loving serenade to youngjoo. (a loving serenade isn’t something he should be writing to her anyway, not when his feelings are such a mess and they’re exes and should stay that way.) he can’t decide whether that would make her stumbling upon it better or worse, but regardless, he shoves the notebook back down into the bottom of his bag and climbs out of bed to find where she’d gone off to. when he does, he wraps his arms around her waist from behind, presses a chaste kiss to her neck and asks her what she’s doing in a ploy to get her to flirt back, as if mere months ago he hadn’t been struggling to even pick up the remaining pieces of their friendship. as if he hasn’t grown a need for her touch as real as hunger and he can’t tell which part of the recipe⁠—touch or her⁠—he needs more.

ii.

he wakes up in the middle of the night with youngjoo in his arms and he presses his eyes closed for a few moments and syncs his breathing with hers before he slips away from her, the hazy remnant of a dream where they’d never fallen out of a relationship tugging at his memory. they’d been happy and affectionate, in love, but the line between dream and reality frays too thin for comfort and warning sirens blare in his head at the moment it takes him to discern the fiction of his dream from the truth of what they’d been doing since october.

just when i’m about to get over you, you come to me just when i’m about to erase you, i’m lost and looking for you

he can’t risk turning the light on to find his notebook, so the white letters appear on the black of his phone screen one by one. he knows what they’ll say, in korean this time, before he finishes. it’s a phrase that fades into his mind as the defensive sirens fade enough for him to hear his own thoughts and a melody and rhythm cling to the words so naturally he knows there’s no way he’ll be able to avoid making it into a song.

is it a lyric or is it a reminder to himself that this play they’re putting on for each other is only an act that must come to an end? there’s nothing wrong with this. he’s not leading her on because she treats him the same in return and he’s never promised her anything he can’t follow through on. it’s not a crime for him to sleep with her or kiss her or hold her in the countryside as winter sweeps in because he wants to and he’s denied so much of what he wants already.

he blocks his brain from going down that path of thought and abandons his phone on the bedside table to wrap his arm around youngjoo again. he fills his head with thoughts of everything but what they’re doing and it’s so loud in his mind that he doesn’t know if he’ll fall asleep before the sun rises, but he does eventually.

iii.

the next time he wakes up, this time from a dreamless sleep, he’s holding youngjoo a little bit tighter.

he sings the melody he can’t get out of his head into his phone in his car the minute their dalliance away from the real world comes to an end. it’s mostly empty vocalizations where he hasn’t decided the lyrics, but one lyric he’d written expands itself in the moment. 

just when i’m about to get over you, you come to me just when i’m about to erase you, i’m lost and looking for you but as if nothing ever happened you make it impossible for me to reject you

the kiss goodbye he’d given her lingers on his lips, but he cracks his car window to let the frigid air seep in to press the warmth she’d left behind to the recesses of his mind.

he doesn’t know what to title the audio clip to make sure he finds it again. he considers her name, but he can’t be that obvious about it. knowing himself, he’ll send the file off to someone for their opinion and forget to change the file name and open himself up to questions he’s not willing to answer. besides, if she gets her name carved into the fabric of a song, she deserves a better one than this, one that leaks a quiet resentment he’s pained to acknowledge.

she deserves better. she always does when it comes to him, and from that is where so many of their problems stem. he couldn’t give her security in their relationship because he was so insecure and now he can’t give her his heart because he’s fractured into so many pieces he isn’t even sure who has it anymore.

only one word comes to mind when he thinks of her, of them, of everything they were and could have been. everything they aren’t anymore. it  has him typing in a label as fast as he can before he starts the car: bittersweet.

iv.

it’s habit now for ash’s feet to plod the familiar path to his studio as soon as they pass the threshold of his apartment, and so they do once again as the melody continues to loop in his head. the first thing he does once he’s settled into the chair in his studio, staring at the blankness of a new sound file, is play the vocal melody that had been etched into his brain. 

the piano chords come next. he briefly considers guitar, but it doesn’t feel quite right as the heart of the piece. in his mind’s ear, it isn’t a song he envisions himself playing on a stage in front of thousands, but one he imagines himself singing at the moon on the porch of that house up in the mountains he’d left behind, equal parts hoping and afraid his company for the trip would overhear.

the intro is short but establishing, and that’s what’s fitting. ash can’t think of any better way to represent the relationship they’d had two, almost three, years ago. short, but with ripple effects that are still radiating outward. he needs only a bit of experimentation of length and playing style before he settles on the base the intro sets. there’s a vulnerability to it, but there’s indignation as well that’s mirrored in the way the drums kick in after the intro, something separating the words from being entirely stripped bare. it’s not a confession; it’s a romanticized journey through his own winding labyrinth of thoughts he struggles to find his way out of when he’s with her.

to him, youngjoo is a maze of his own invention. they aren’t an ‘it’s complicated’ facebook relationship status. they aren’t in a relationship. that fact shouldn’t be the epiphany it is, but for the short time they’d spent away from the city and their history and other people, he’d begun to forget that they aren’t going anywhere. they’d had their chance three years ago. they’d blown it.

nights in the studio turn the instrumental complicated and cloudy like a manifestation of his own head when he tries to analyze what he’s doing with youngjoo and why. but that’s not what he wants. it needs to be more simple than that, so he strips it back to the piano and some percussion, a few synths, and some twinkling accents throughout that pretty it up and a build into brass and woodwinds at the end, and a raw version of his vocals for the time being.

at first, he doesn’t know how he feels at the thought of any of the instruments being synthesized the song needs to be real or it won’t mean anything.

later, he realizes they aren’t real. he can’t even tell if his own feelings are real or synthesized by his own embarrassing desire for romance. the realization of his own hypocrisy births new lines lyrically full of his own anger at himself. it sounds like he’s angry at her, his self-hate projected outward onto an easier target in a way he’d never do if she was really here, and so he promises himself never to tell her this song is about her if it ever goes out.

the synthesizer and the constant, plodding percussion become prominent parts of most of the song and he can’t tell whether they mirrors his head or his heart anymore, and isn’t that so right in a way that twists his stomach into knots and has him trying to settle it with a bottle of tequila.

it’d be easier for the song not to mean anything, but it means even more than ash realizes at first. october had been the start of a game of pretend ash hadn’t known he was going to play. there’s only so long he can pretend to be naive to what he’s doing. he knows how he treats his exes and he knows how he treats people he’s sleeping with without strings knotted firmly at both ends, and neither of those are the way he treats youngjoo.

the song is created over the course of the month following their trip and when he listens back to it in full, all cloudy vocals over an instrumental that only got messy again after he cleansed it, he surprises himself with how he sounds, like a man romanticizing his own pain. as surprised as he is, it doesn’t sound unlike him. in fact, it sounds more like him than anything he’s created in a long while.

if he was a better man, he’d learn something from it.

[purplefictionmom]

I'd normally be like "ALL THE QUESTIONS" but I'm really interested in 7 and 15 (but like if you wanted to do them all then hell yeah pls do)

You know what, Imma answer them all, cause I love you darling~

All answers under the cut, cause I’m sure I'll get long winded, as usual haha

1) is there a story you’re holding off on writing for some reason?I mean, there was a story that I had been sitting on for...10 years, I think? I just didn’t know how I wanted to tell the story. It started as a mockumentary type of thing, then when that didn’t fit the narrative style I wanted to tell, I moved to a classic modern fantasy style, but that didn’t pan out either.

Then, the game called “What Remains of Edith Finch” came out and it hit me so hard that I nearly passed out: that is the perfect narrative style for the book idea I’ve been sitting on!!

Incidentally, if you haven’t played/watched someone play it, “What remains of Edith Finch” is an excellent game and Jacksepticeye does a wonderful let’s play of it :D

2) what work of yours, if any, are you the most embarrassed about existing?Not as much anymore, but I used to hate bringing up “...And the Things That Followed.” Just for a short what-for: ATTTF is a Left4Dead/2 fanfiction, reader-insert that started as a sort of experiment: I perused lunaescence and picked a fandom that I was familiar with, but that didn’t have a lot of fanfiction to choose from. I mostly wanted to see if smaller fandoms stay active, even with very little content to choose from. And boy, did I get my answer.

The biggest reason that I ended up embarrassed over it was because I hadn’t intended it to be a romance fic (I mean...the two main characters are the reader and a Hunter, and what with necrophilia being really gross and all...), but I had readers out and out demand for it, to the point of going on strike from reading my fanfic. This was years ago, mind you, so I caved like a wet noodle and now hate that particular fanfic, to the point where I don’t even want to write the two sequels that I already had planned and half-written.

So, it started out as embarrassment, now its more I wish I could just delete it and forget it exists, but I’m one of those authors who has a really hard time deleting anything, even things I hate haha.

3) what order do you write in? front of book to back? chronological? favorite scenes first? something else?For the very first, ultimate scene I picture in each fic/story/novel, it could really end up anywhere in the final version.

After that first initial scene I see, I try to start as far back as I think I can get away with and move forward from there, so I guess the short answer is I write from beginning to end, no matter how it ends up being at the end, haha.

4) favorite character you’ve writtenI guess this is supposed to not include characters I don’t own, but that’s no fun so here you go:

OC: A supernatural Hunter named Silva and another hunter (who I have an rp blog for) named Theodora ‘Timmie’ Wilson

Non-OC: Writing Yusuke from YYH and Asgore from UT

5) character you were most surprised to end up writingI’m not quite sure what this question means, so I’ll just take a stab and guess it’s talking about how a character can end up differently on paper than how you first envisioned them in your head.

And that award goes to Silva. I expected her to be a hard, cold killer, but she had so much inner turmoil and hidden thoughts that she was definitely the hardest character to write until I actually started to understand her.

Which took an ungodly amount of time, tbh haha.

6) something you would go back and change in your writing that it’s too late/complicated to change nowProbably how often I use the double-hyphen. Its meant to be an alternative to using commas (which, I use to many as it is anyway haha), but now they litter my writing like popcorn on the floor at a midnight release, haha.

7) when asked, are you embarrassed or enthusiastic to tell people that you write?Honestly? A little of both.

I’m someone who sees fanfiction (and any fanwork at all, tbh) as legitimate art forms, but there are so many who not only don’t agree, but they belittle and question those who participate in fandoms.

There are days I have all my shit together and I’m ready to defend my fanfiction to the death, along with all my original content; I have my sources, I have examples, so on and so forth, but other days...

Well, let’s just say there are days I don’t even volunteer that information to people willingly haha.

8) favorite genre to writeOther than fanfiction, I love horror, fantasy, and scifi the best, though there are plenty of times it feels like I’m hardly writing for any of those genres at all, haha.

9) what, if anything, do you do for inspiration?Fanfiction, most of the time, but I also listen to songs on the radio, discuss ideas with friends/family (my step-dad was the only person when I was growing up who nurtured my love for telling stories and many of my ideas for novels came from talking with him over the years), or I also like to free-write.

At least, I think its called free-writing haha. I basically just put my pen on paper and just talk to the page with my pen. Sometimes, its just a rant, but more often then not, I’ll find a story or character hidden there.

10) write in silence or with background noise? with people or alone?All of the above, haha. In the perfect atmosphere, music is playing in the background, and I’m completely alone with no distractions, but since that’s not reality, I’ve sort of forced myself to adapt to what I can.

My computer (where I do 90% of my writing) is in the living room of my house, so my hubby is usually around, and if he’s playing overwatch, then its usually a few voices playing in the background.

If it gets to be too distracting, I just put headphones in, but I also write in notebooks and I take those everywhere, so for that, I just write when/what I can as I go along.

11) what aspect of your writing do you think has most improved since you started writing?Definitely dialogue, but also my prose. Honestly, all of it, haha. I look back at stuff I wrote years ago and I wonder how anybody thought I was any good, haha.

12) your weaknesses as an authorIf I had to pick one, its probably that I tend to either over-explain, or under-explain. There is no in-between, haha. My first drafts are often a mess of me focusing in on the details of one room and then not describing a setting for two chapters or more.

13) your strengths as an authorProbably my ability to logically follow order of events, even though I don’t plot, like, at all. This also makes it easy to see where I can divert from what’s expected and explore different avenues.

14) do you make playlists for your current wips?Not really? I tend to either put my whole library on shuffle, or I have a dedicated writing playlist that’s full of background music from video games and other things like that.

15) why did you start writing?It started as an outlet.

When I was about 10, my dad came home from work one day while my mom was still at work and while I watched, packed all his stuff into his car, called my mother and told her that if she didn’t get off work soon I’d be home alone, and then left.

I was in a complete and total depression from around then until well into my late teens (I have a little depression now, and a slew of other problems, but now for diff reasons). On top of my dad leaving, my mother, step-father and I all moved to a completely new state, where I started to bomb academically and had literally no friends until almost a year later.

It started out as angsty pre-teen poetry (a lot of which actually still pretty good, even as I go back to read it), then it spilled into fanfiction and fandoms, and around the age of 13--once my step-dad found my love of writing and wanted to pull me away from fanfiction--I finally started writing original ideas out.

16) are there any characters who haunt you?Silva, and a few others. Not so much because their stories are left untold, but moreso because of the way they helped shape me as a writer and the things I was interested in writing about.

The debate about whether or not a writer should write about a certain subject usually stems from readers, but I tend to lean toward the argument from a writer’s point of view: there are subjects that I broached as a teenager that I needed to explore in order to be who I am today, as a person and as a writer. Not to say I have something horrible in my writer’s past that I wouldn’t be able to share, but more that it might be questionable about the age that I delved into those topics. (and no, I don’t mean just smut, though that is included in what I’m talking about)

17) if you could give your fledgling author self any advice, what would it be?Stop wasting your time trying to please family members with what you write. Most of them are going to ignore the whole of your writing and focus in on the one swear word you threw in for characterization anyway.

Write what makes you happy; whether or not its publishable isn’t the point. You’re just starting out and you need to write; to get better, to learn the ropes, so just go WRITE!

18) were there any works you read that affected you so much that it influenced your writing style? what were they?Oh geez...at the beginning, everything I read affected my writing style. Fanfiction, published novels, everything.

Probably my biggest influencers would be “The Green Mile” by Stephen King, “The Hobbit” by JRR Tolkien, “This Present Darkness” By Frank Peretti.

And while these are hugely different authors with different writing styles, they more influenced me in my way of thinking. Of expanding my imagination of what could be if I just had the courage to write it.

19) when it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.?I either have a notebook filled with notes about characters/information, or I use a website called Hiveword(dot)com. It’s a novel tracking website that also advertises its program (which you have to pay for), but the website itself is free and you can store all the information about your book, characters, timeline, etc.

20) do you write in long sit-down sessions or in little spurts?Both, but I get more done with longer sessions. I know that seems like a no-brainer, but its more because of how I prep myself for my writing time:

I have to have a glass of water or cup of coffee, I have to have my music playing (which, with spotify could take a few minutes to load), I have to re-read the last page or so of what was previously written so I can get back into the feel of it, then I can actually sit down and write.

the little spurts end up being in my notebooks and they’re a mess, honestly, haha.

21) what do you think when you read over your older work?I used to cringe and close it immediately, but I’ve been trying to analyze and see the biggest differences in my writings from a then and now standpoint. Sometimes its really hard, if its particularly bad or whatev, but its been a real confidence booster when I can see where I was and where I am now.

22) are there any subjects that make you uncomfortable to write?Not uncomfortable, per se, but I tend to try and think of things from a reader’s perspective at the same time I write, so there are times when I get a little too involved in what’s happening on the page, haha.

HIAPOTS was a terror to write at some points because of this.

23) any obscure life experiences that you feel have helped your writing?All of it, if I’m being honest, but obscure things specifically? Hmm...

I mean, probably the fact that I give all my pets personalities and conversations between each other? I do it without thinking, but there are times where I’ll find myself using lines or situations from this weird little thing in my actual writings, haha.

24) have you ever become an expert on something you previously knew nothing about, in order to better a scene or a story?OMG SO MUCH. Like, idk about ‘expert’, but I have so much useless trivia in my head because of being an author. Talk with me for an hour and see if I don’t throw ‘fun facts’ into the mix of our conversations haha.

25) copy/paste a few sentences or a short paragraph that you’re particularly proud ofOh ugh...umm...let me to look...

From a currently unpublished reader/sans fic I’m writing:You understand, don’t you, Sans? 

Sure, Sans understood. Sans always understood. He was the one who didn’t make waves, or overturn boats--you could always count on Sans to be the reassuring nod when you felt lost or the understanding ex who’s perfectly okay with just letting things die, even though the ending came as the greatest punchline ever written in history:

He hadn’t even seen it coming.

(I love delving into characters’ heads, and i love it more when i can do it well enough to feel comfortable with letting other people read it, haha)

From Part 6 of my Garrus/Reader serial fic:“They were my cases,” Garrus admitted, his eyes finally leaving Castis’s in favor of looking at the floor, “And I can’t watch it happen again.”

If Castis didn’t have such a steely reign on his composure now, Garrus might have been clued into his father’s line of thought. As it was, Castis was being forced to realize that he had been wrong in his assessments of his son.The older turian had always thought Garrus shirked the rules and regulations as a form of rebellion, since Castis stepped in and forced him to quit training for the spectres--as if to prove he didn’t care about what his father cared about. Now, Castis realized the reason Garrus pushed them aside so easily was because he did care, maybe too much.

(Honestly, the whole argument between Castis and Garrus in this part of the fic is something I’m proud of)

[83gigsof90semocore-blog]

Post 4: The letter C

Welcome back! It sure wasn't yesterday, how have you been? I'm fine thanks, been a little busy myself and had to put this project on the backburner as you can probably tell. I alluded to being really busy in the last post and that's been pretty much true for all of the past year. Luckily, things are looking a bit better up ahead so I might actually start posting regularly soon!

Much has happened outside of the blog too. I toyed with the idea of moving this beuat over to blogspot (where all the real emo blogs are anyway) when it looked like tumblr was self-destructing for a hot minute. But in the end cooler heads prevailed and it looks like tumblr is just gonna keep existing albeit with less popularity. In the emo world, 125, Rue Montmartre, the first band I covered about a year ago are releasing their discography on vinyl and are now on spotify. All thanks to my blog, I'm sure. Don't be fooled by my modest follower count

I actually have quite a few prestigious readers. Most notably perhaps being Prof. Anders Ahlén, a man important enough to have his own wikipedia page.

C has been the longest letter so far by far clocking in at a mighty 6.56 GB as opposed to the average of 2.8. I've been listening to it in phases with sometimes a month or more in between so it hasn't really been a coherent experience. It has been a real slog though, which is part of why I gave up several times. This has also been a letter with a great number of "famous" emo bands. Because part of the purpose of this listening experience is to experience 90's emo "as it was" rather than colored by nostalgia or what is deemed worthy of attention by the internet discourse I'm disqualifying bands that are prominent in the emo canon from best name, song or image. I will however still do a quick write up on them for those of you not as familiar with emo, chances are I'll reference them in the future so do take notes.

Emo classics

Cap'n Jazz

It's almost impossible to tell the story of 90's emo without Cap'n Jazz. Among their members they have Tim Kinsella, who would later go on to play in Joan of Arc and Owls, his brother Mike Kinsella who would later play in American Football as well as Owls, Their/They're/There and Owen and also Davey von Bohlen who would later play in the Promise ring. When they formed in '89 they where just a bunch teenagers, Mike being just 12. They released their first album 6 years later which goes by the title Burritos, Inspiration Point, Fork Balloon Sports, Cards in the Spokes, Automatic Biographies, Kites, Kung Fu, Trophies, Banana Peels We’ve Slipped on, and Egg Shells We’ve Tippy Toed Over, but is simply referred to as Schmap'n Schmazz by fans. Most of the lyrics where supposedly written by Tim one night while high on mushrooms. They have a wonderful surreal dadaist quality to them with lines such as Hey coffee eyes, you've got me coughing up my cookie heart or You are colder than oldness could ever be. The music is chaotic and full of a warm messy energy. I am personally absolutely enamored with their cover of Aha's Take on me which I insist on putting in as many playlists where it makes some sense whatsoever. As you can hear, Tims vocals do absolutely not Morten Harkets heights (not an easy feat in Tims defense) and you can plainly hear a teenagers voice falseto-cracking and it's absolutely amazing somehow.

Cap'n Jazz really hit the spot of this awkward sensitive yet punk energy that from the start was very central to emo. Although Cap'n Jazz are a big helping sillier and more pubertal than, say, Rites of Spring.

One popular quip about the Velvet underground is the following:

The Velvet Underground didn't sell many records, but everyone who bought one went out and started a band.

I suppose Cap'n Jazz is a bit like that for emo although their presence was perhaps felt as strongest around 2010 with bands such as Snowing, Glocca Morra and in particular Algernon Cadwallader aping their style.

Christie Front Drive

I think part of the reason for Cap'n Jazz's status as a cornerstone band stems from their originality. Christine Front Drive is in contrast a very prototypical 90's emo band. They have a sound that borrows heavily from both post-hardcore and indie-rock with the slightly whiny vocals typical for the genre and era. On their song November they sing Still the same // Fucked for what you've done // Still over // Staged over // November's almost done // Still the same which I think is a nice cross section of their lyrics (most of the rest of the song are just variations on the same words with "remember" also thrown into the mix). The overall sound is slow, moody and a bit dreamy, very typical of their brand of emo. As easy as it is to find bands that sound similar to CFD, I dare say that they did it better than most and that this is what has earned them their spot in the emo cannon.

Cursive

Cursive formed in 1995 and has since been together on and off up to the present day, the drive only has music up to 2005 though. This includes their 2003 release the Ugly Organ which was released by Saddle Creek and is the only one I've heard before starting this project. By that point they had already moved away from their emo roots though, and I'm glad to finally have gotten around to their earlier stuff. The Ugly Organ is artsy, catchy and a bit baroque, but also definitely on the outskirts of emo to the point where I'd perhaps describe it as an indie/alternative album if I wasn't talking about them in the context of emo. This doesn't mean that it isn't worth a listen because it absolutely is. Their early stuff is more typical of what the rest of the drive is like with a sound more in the ballpark of CFD but much more punk, with a higher tempo and angrier vocals while still maintaining a somewhat whiny voice, introspective lyrical content and the cold, big guitar sound typical to this branch of emo.

My favorite band

Car vs Driver

So far I've generally picked bands that stand out a bit because in a long stream of relative sameness, that's what you end up paying attention to. Car vs Driver is however not one of theses bands that stand out but rather pretty typical of the emocore sound. They do it pretty well though. They are undeniably punk, but with more introspective lyrics and a slightly melodic edge, which is exactly how emo was first conceived. One some of their tracks like the featured Without A Day day even flirt a bit more with an alt-rock sound but they also have songs that are a lot more hardcore like Livid Step.

When researching them I half expected them to be a pretty substantial band that I had somehow managed to miss, but they're actually very unheard of, something which I consider to be a shame.

I did however find that the drummer of the band has a blogspot at beyondfaliure.blogstopt.com where he catalogs various bands he's been a part of. There is a collection of Car vs Driver flyers as well as two live recordings and this summary he wrote for their discography

Car vs. Driver began when I was 17 years old. By the time we played our final show, I was 19. This band was the music of my life during a period when people usually experience the greatest amount of freedom, which is what I think of whenever I listen to this music now. There were so many new experiences: living on our own, meeting new people, getting a new perspective on life. Our lifestyle in turn gave us a new perspective on expressing music, and we poured all of our energy and emotion into it. Music that now seems a world away – music from a different life. It’s hard to remember that everything about being in a band at that time was simply making a 7”, buying the cheapest van you could find, and touring the country for the summer. There was no infrastructure to build your music around, which also removed its barriers. Instead of running our band like a corporation, we played peoples living rooms and basements, engaged in kickball tournaments, made record covers out of manila envelopes, slept on top of our van, cooked pasta, and played with some of the most amazing bands in the process. Bands that epitomized the time – like Spirit Assembly, Policy of 3, Friction, Current, The Yah Mos, Assfactor 4, Frail, Hoover, Freemasonry, Scout, and Inkwell. The experience we had is something that could never be recreated, and I consider myself incredibly lucky to have been a part of that moment in time. Thank you Matt, Steve, and Jonathan for bringing this to me.

James Joyce August 2004

This compilation is dedicated to our faithful roadies Ashley Lawrence Moore and William Anthony Nation.

We froze, sweat, bled, argued, and laughed.

Amazing stuff in all, I can highly recommend clicking around their for a while if you, like me are a bit obsessed with the 90's emo scene.

My favorite band name

Christopher Robin

Christopher Robin is a screamo band that go pretty hard. The name is a funny contrast to this and the juxtaposition between childhood nostalgia and angsty screaming works really well.

My favorite picture

Featured is the cover to a demo tape by french screamo band Cather Mathra, which features songs such as Ils M'ont Oubliés (they forgot me) or Leur Révolution (their revolution). You can read more about them on psychoviolence, a blog dedicated to French punk & violence. I think that using a medieval (?) drawing for a cover is pretty cool, especially if you're a french screamo band.

Curiosly they don’t have any music on youtube, you’ll have to check out the drive if you want to listen to them. Tumblr has a limit of 5 embedded videos anyway, so that worked out nicely I suppose.