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passcridae · 4 years ago

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Friday 16th April, 2021; late evening Clubs territory; the Armory Referencing; No specific tws, but it gets violent and gross.

Everything inside Sparrow’s body -- every muscle, every sinew, every tendon -- was pulled tight as a bowstring as he slunk with whisper-quiet steps through the darker, quieter abandoned halls of the Armory.

The assassin was what absolutely no one would refer to as a team player, even less so when it came to the front lines, regardless of on the battlefield or well contained within the tight confines of the Club faction’s streets. He wasn’t a part of any resistance group or vanguard, not when the leaders knew how best he operated -- and that was alone. Sparrow had arrived alone and would likely leave alone, given free reign to stalk the maze-like halls and pick off anyone and everyone he could, artfully unlocking doors to leave them wide open in his wake.

So too in his wake did he leave warm blood pooled in as many halls as he could, damp and tacky on the tattooed fingers Sparrow had loosely but skillfully wrapped around the handle of his blade. It was a long, slender thing, his dagger, designed to slip effortlessly between panels of armor and glance off of bone to where the razor-sharp edge could do the most damage. He felt more exposed without shifting, but the corners were too claustrophobic and the stone too well fit even for the smallest of his animals. A last resort, if he had to.

Sparrow could hear an indistinct cacophony echoing through the cold halls, but it was too far away for him to recognize the voices or pick out any meaning, so he largely ignored it other than to put his back to the majority of the chaos. Stalking steps rounded another corner as he kept to the shadows, and it didn’t take long for him to spot his next target: a tall, muscular woman, hand on a mace at her hip as she faced where the chaos was coming from, oblivious to the danger behind her. Sparrow smiled, fanged even in the absence of his fangs.

Two swift, bounding steps brought him close enough to his quarry to leap, knees connecting with the small of the woman’s back and one arm wrapping around her shoulders to hold himself in place, plunging his blade diagonally into the space between her neck and shoulder.

Something was wrong.

The dagger pierced, but not deep enough -- the woman bellowed in pain and Sparrow’s breath caught in his throat. A Strongarm. Flesh too stubborn to rend, muscles halting Sparrow’s blade far too far from her heart. His surprise prevented him from leaping away fast enough, and not before the meat of her hand closed around his forearm, dragging the young Shifter over her shoulder like a ragdoll.

“What’s this?” she sneered, holding him aloft with a bruising grip, Sparrow’s toes scrabbling for purchase on the stone as his nails bit and scratched ineffectually at the hand locked around his arm. The guard withdrew the blade from her shoulder as if it were nothing but an inconvenience, an annoyance, and threw it aside without a second thought. She gave him a rough shake and something like a growl bubbled up from Sparrow’s throat, low and feral. The Strongarm simply laughed, a harsh, caustic sound that echoed mockingly through the hall. “You’re too far from your friends, boy. No one will hear you if I--”

Her grip tightened with brutal effortlessness, and the bones in Sparrow’s arm cracked easily under the pressure. He cried out in surprise, tears pricking hotly at the corners of his eyes as pain shot up his arm, immobilizing him. He didn’t dare move and make the injury worse, but at this point it didn’t matter: the guard’s free hand, rough-edged gauntlet slick with her own blood, wrapped around Sparrow’s throat with a clear and threatening purpose. “I’m going to kill you, little rat. And it’s not going to be quick.”

Sparrow didn’t have the breath to respond or time to react before the guard slammed him into the wall, the back of his head hitting with a sickening crack and any air left in his lungs forced out with the savagery of it. Almost immediately his vision started to blur and tunnel, black crawling at the edge of his sight as his empty lungs ached. Held at least half a foot from the floor, Sparrow kicked half-heartedly but couldn’t find purchase, any blow he aimed at the Strongarm a nuisance at best. She laughed at his struggle, and the sound ricocheted cruelly through his head. The places where the steel of her gauntlet bit into his skin started to burn, a persistent ache that seeped into his skin with a dour purpose: poison.

He was going to die here.

The mere thought sent a shock of fear and adrenaline through his body, but neither were going to help him, no surge of strength even close to enough to free him from the guard’s iron grip around his neck. Unable to shift, unable even to speak or cry out if anyone would hear him to begin with, Sparrow squeezed his eyes shut and fought unconsciousness as the world spun around him.

Suddenly, the grip around his neck tightened, then went slack. There was a sick thud as something hit the floor, and when Sparrow forced his eyes open again, the Strongarm’s head was… gone.

Their bodies crumpled to the stone floor in tandem, and Sparrow drew in harsh, ragged breaths as he scrambled away from the felled woman’s body in sheer, blind terror. He gulped air until his throat and lungs burned, fit to burst, but didn’t even have the time to be grateful before a shock of nausea gripped him. Doubled over on his knees, Sparrow had neither the wherewithal nor the energy to fight as he emptied his stomach onto the cold stone floor in a splash of vomit and stinging bile. The only saving grace was he never ate much to begin with, but the painful dry heaves that followed hardly felt like a blessing.

“Gods,” a man’s voice blurted out, disgusted, and only then did Sparrow realize he wasn’t alone -- as if the Strongarm could’ve decapitated herself. Someone was crouching next to him, and as he caught sight of the Armory armor and insignia, fear shot through him and he automatically tried to jerk away from the hand reaching for his shoulder. “Hey, hey-- relax, relax, I’m on your side.��

Sparrow froze for a moment and tried to blink the tears and fuzziness from his eyes, an unfamiliar face swimming in his vision. An armory guard, loyal to the resistance? Sparrow stared at him, slack-jawed and baffled, hardly able to believe his luck.

Maybe Miss Death was still interested enough in him after all.

What followed was a non-linear mess of memories and Sparrow fighting against the pain and unconsciousness that threatened to overtake him. The guard that’d saved him scooped him up like a broken doll -- not without the threat of additional bodily harm if Sparrow decided to throw up on him -- and carried him through the winding halls of the Armory until Sparrow couldn’t tell which way was up or if they were closer to the outside or to death. Eventually they climbed flights of stairs, and eventually the cool, evening spring air washed over Sparrow’s sweat-streaked face as they made it to the roof.

The poison was burning through his veins like hellfire at this point, and he couldn’t discern any of the sounds or shouting as his blood rushed desperately in his ears. Only one voice cut through the rest: Fallon’s definitive, commanding bark, the likes of which immediately sent a wave of relief through Sparrow big enough to prick tears at the corners of his eyes. It didn’t matter if she wasn’t the Emitter that appeared beside him, skilled hands hovering at the festering, blackened wounds at his throat to start drawing the poison from his veins; as long as he knew Fallon was there, Sparrow knew he would be safe. The feeling was foreign and comforting all at once, the level of trust he realized he had in his leader. He didn’t have the energy or the coherent thought to process it, not when all he could focus on was the stinging fire of the poison leaving his bloodstream.

Eventually the nausea subsided even if the spinning in his head remained, disorienting and frustrating. It was just clear enough, however, to recognize that a heavy hush had settled, dampening the roar of chaos into an anticipatory holding of breath.

“Wha’s happenin’?” Sparrow finally managed to croak, his tongue a dry, sour weight in his mouth.

The Emitter hovering over him glanced towards the low wall surrounding the Armory roof, then back to her charge with a grim expression.

“Mallick’s challenged the Ace.”

#solo: broken wings #or: sparrow and the terrible horrible no good very bad day #grey: if you wanna really punish sparrow--#me: YEAH I DO #i'm sorry birb boy ilu but u can't go and fight a strongarm #and yes that is geon saving his narrow ass #borrowed with mady's blessing #ty mady and geon (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*✲ﾟ*｡⋆#sparrow: i like to be shoved against walls but Not Like This

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dreamsclock · 2 years ago

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Sparrow you cannot just say you have an AU called “Viscera” and then refuse to tell us about it!😤😱👀 /lh

We wanna know! (Although please don’t feel pressured on sharing anything you don’t want to, or writing anything you don’t want to)

-axolotl

OKAY I’LL GIVE U THE WATERED DOWN VERSION BUT IT IS FUCKED UP. PLS BE WARNED

warnings: cannibalism, torture, death (temporary), prison themes, c!q being WEIRD TM

okay so shapeshifters need parts from other people in order to shapeshift properly. since moving to the server, c!q hasn’t shapeshifted much at all, so doesn’t bother eating anyone because . why would he . there’s no reason . anything from the person will do: blood, bones, whatever, but the most powerful is the heart.

…but c!q doesn’t eat anything, until he so happens to be at the funeral of his ex-boss and decides what the fuck, why not, and eats his heart.

you can imagine this is a very bad decision that leads to many other bad decisions, because the rush of power he gets and the control over shapeshifting he discovers leaves him wanting to do it more and more. unfortunately, there are a shortage of hearts around the dream smp— but luckily, by the time he gets really desperate, there’s a mostly-immortal admin locked up in prison who regenerates every time he’s killed! result!

c!dream on the other hand is NOT having a good time. he’s not only being tortured, but he’s having his heart ripped from his chest and eaten every other day, and more than that, he’s giving his torturer more power by letting him do so (turns out admins’ hearts are even MORE powerful!). not that he can stop him: he just has to die and respawn and die and respawn and hope, plead, that one day will be enough for quackity.

there’s more to the au but that’s the bare bones of it ✌️ will probably never write anything for this BUT i thought this was a horrible horrible terrible bad brilliant au

#privtwt 2 you’ll get stuff. probably #> viscera au #tw cannibalism #tw death #tw torture

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idjitlili · 4 years ago

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Your eyes can be so cruel.

Kili x reader

Summary: Being apart of the company, and growing close to Kili. After stopping at an inn, some drunk men, decide to pick at Kili's appearance. Words from Bowie come into favour.

A/n: Requested by Thatfoolishhuman I have seen this idea a lot for Kili, but I'lol make it my own :) Also I'm British, so don't be mad at my spelling. FIRST IMAGINE OF 2021

Word count:3375

Warnings: Listened to David Bowie while writing this, sorry Bowie you just too handsome. Swearing.

Songs in order: rebel rebel, as the world falls down.

There was perks from travelling with your parents; due to business. The most frequent place you'd go was Tortuga, it was a quite a large village. Every time that you'd go, you and your parents stayed in an inn, which had a pub connected to it.

You'd eat with your parents in there, before all the drunks arrived, it was also a Saturday that you'd go. Saturdays meant that a song writer, and singer in one , was always there. His name being Jareth, he was a very beautiful man, in honesty one of the best musicians, in history.

Jareth was a skinny man, had a huge blond mullet, beautiful eyes one pupil larger than the other, beautiful accent, beautiful everything. Who couldn't have a crush on Jareth, his songs were like none other.

These trips started when you were 5, when your parents business finally picked up, all the way up until you came to age. Which is when you joined the company, due to Gandalf.

You didn't think you'd ever see Jareth again, but you do. You had undoubtedly had a crush on the singer growing up, you had almost forgotten about him when you joined the company.

Personally you didn't know Gandalf very well, not like your parents did, but he recruited you for an adventure, how could you deny it. A chance to see elves, dwarves, dragons? No way you was going to pass up that chance, no way.

You were surprised when the company had picked up, after getting Bilbo, since you lived on the way. Scary yes, not knowing any of these people, a chance at getting friends, you could only hope.

Strange was to say the least, you had seen a couple of dwarves growing up , that was just in pubs mostly. The were always not so pleasant, but these dwarves, plump and strikingly handsome. That hobbit? Bilbo that didn't take long for you to become friends, being shy didn't help, but some how you managed.

Dwarves were were quite scary; to say the least they intimidated you.

That was until a particularly rainy day, when the mud was like cake batter. Thorin had decided it was time to stop for the night, the rain hammering down, lightning even, every now and then.

Everyone was getting off their pony's, as were you, you was about to step down, when a huge crack of thunder was sounded above you. Damn you Thor. You had jumped, slipping on the mud, but you never hit the floor, instead you into strong arms.

Looking up , drips of water from dark hair had dripped on you, as Kili looked down at you. Your feet upwards, like a trust fall, you had smiled in embarrassment back to Kili, who had pulled you up to your feet. "T-thank you." Now standing up on your own, pulling your tunic down, trying to avoid eye contact.

"You're welcome, wouldn't want you to ruin your clothes a day into our journey." Kili had smiled at you, as you looked back to him from your feet, smiling slightly back.

Dwarves weren't as bad as they were made out to be, you learned that very quickly. When it was time for baths, turns out they were protective over females, always when you bathed two dwarves stood guard, just in case.

On cold nights, you'd wake up with an extra blanket.

Even though Thorin didn't like you were on this quest, he was never horrible, maybe because you just stayed quiet. You did not want to anger that beast, Bilbo talked quite a lot and look at him..

On one night, you were told to hide, Bilbo had been kidnapped by trolls, you hadn't listened. You followed everyone else, staying the bushes, getting as close as you possibly could, before quietly climbing up a tree with your knife.

It wasn't long before they were all caught, you just staring down at them, specifically Kili, you had hoped at he look up, and see you drop the knife. You could not make nose that would have alerted the trolls immediately. Sat on a branch , trying to blend in as much as possible.

That was Kili had looked up wide eyed, as you dropping the knife , and quickly climbed further up the tree to get out of eye view. You had thought it had worked, oh you was wrong.

"That one has gotten out!" Kili had started running around the trolls , as if he was sonic. A few minutes that lasted before you had noticed a shadow. But it didn't matter because Bert had grabbed Kili tightly,like he was slime that wouldn't stay put. No way would not have bruises after that. Of course he got out of Berts grip as Gandalf had appeared, cracking the large Boulder, turning the trolls into stone.

Feeling terrible the next day still, when the company had stopped again for the night and everyone had went to sleep. You could not, Kili being on watch, you had gotten up quietly, making your way over to him, sitting on log next to him.

Thinking about what you would say, Kili had beaten you to it. "Can't sleep?" His voice sounded tired, but still as lively. "Yeah.. um I'm sorry." Very convincing, indeed.

" for what?" The fire glowing orange, causing Kili to be barely visible as he turned to his to look at you. "It's my fault, that you got hurt yesterday, I should've listened to Thorin."

"What on earth are you going on about? I wasn't hurt? I'm fine, no one is dead , you did great, you didn't throw the knife at my head, maybe then I'd be distrusting in you." You felt like sighing, thankfully, but that would be cringy.

"I haven't got good aim, so it could've happened."

"You need someone to teach you." You had scoffed slightly at Kili, gaining his full attention.

"I do not think anyone would have the patience." The warm orange glow from the fire, lit up the outline of Kili's face, a small grin could be seen.

"Are you challenging me? I have to sit through multiple speeches from Thorin a day."

"That's because you and Fili mess with him, I saw you the other day tangle a bunch of branches into his hair ,while he was sleeping. Why are you always surprised that he gets mad?"

"That was funny though, did you not see that bird fly at him? It shat on his face." Kili's grin only widened, as did yours, you had seen, Thorins face was bright red with the whipped cream.

"I'm surprised Thorin doesn't just leave you somewhere."

"My mum would kill him. Right that settles it, you will learn from the best , to throw knives."

"You will really get Fili to help me?" Kili had gasped at you , sarcastically. "Oh I see, you want that Lion, over me, I'm hurt y/n."

"No,no, thank you Kili."

Thus, a bond was formed every night the company stopped, Kili would take you from camp, taught you basic defensive techniques and knife throwing.

To say the least, it did not take you long to develop a crush. Fili and Bilbo had became suspicious and decided to sneak up on you two. Why you'd do , not sure, Bilbo supposed to be smart, for all they knew you could've been going at it.

Instead they found you both sparring, undoubtedly they were confused, as you knocked the sword from Kili's hand ,before tackling him. Straddling him, as you looked up to see Bilbo and Fili. Quickly letting go of Kili's wrists, Kili looking up confused too, as you stood up, pulling him up with you.

"Oh, hi, we were just sparring." Too embarrassed to speak, Kili did soon as he noticed his brother and hobbit. "So, this is what you two have been doing for weeks? 'Sparring'?" Fili didn't believe it, if Thorin knew he would not have, an heir to the throne, left unsupervised with a woman? No way.

"Yes Fili, I've been teaching Y/n how to defend herself." Sweat dripping down both of your faces, "Right okay, Thorin said it's time for you to have a bath in the quarry, before the dwarves filthy it. Come on y/n." Bilbo had pulled you away, turning your head back to Kili you had sent a smile back to him.

You were back on the road soon enough, Thorin had decided to let the company stop for a night at an inn, an inn with a pub on the side.

Tortuga, the inn you had grew up at.

What day was it? Saturday, you could only hope, you had a huge grin on your face. You had grabbed your stuff, once everyone was off their pony's, heading in to the inn,

Getting to the desk, to check into the inn, which consequently next to the bar, you in front. "Aye, it's y/n/n! It's been a while, luv. And you've brought friends, do you all need rooms?" Sparrow, the owner of the inn had greeted you,with a grin. That man was also very handsome, but too old for you though.

"I know, mum and dad been here a lot though, I assume? Oh I'm, when they next come here, would you be able to give this. And yes please we need for 16." Handing Sparrow the letter from your pocket.

"Of course, okay right it's 2 coins each for the night." The dwarves soon pulled out there coins passing them forward, as did you.

As Sparrow got the keys after counting the coins, he had turned back to you. "Oh, and lucky for you, y/n/n Jareth is here tonight." Sparrow had grinned, as your face flushed.

"Oh,really?" Kili unknowingly to you had also developed a crush on you, the mention of Jareth, made him bubble with jealousy. The company wondered, why such a young woman would be on nickname terms with the pub owner, and who Jareth was. They hadn't seen you as that type of girl, they were right not you, you weren't an alcoholic.

You had all went to your rooms, you had bathed deeply , dressed and headed down to the pub for dinner. The company already there, sat at tables, with jugs of ale. There was a space next to Kili, who had waved you over to sit.

Squeezing next to Kili, Sparrow had catcalled you again. "Oi, y/n/n , usual?" Nodded to his question, Loki the cook had brought out your favourite dinner, as Sparrow brought you an ale.

"You had it ready? Thank you." Sparrow had just winked leaving you to eat your dinner, the others were too busy drinking , but when they had noticed your food, they quickly ordered food.

"So, you come here regularly?" Kili had questioned as you finished your food, "oh, I'm yes, I travelled with my parents growing up , we had to drop stuff off here in Tortuga often , so we would stay here for the night." You had spoken quickly , wanting to change the subject.

" Transporting goods then?" Kili was intrigued, watching you intensely as you sipped your ale. Really he wanted to know who Jareth was. "Yeah, pretty boring, got to see a lot of places though." After that, a lot of people began to pile in, and the dwarves got drunker.

You knew it was going to be soon, that Jareth would be here. Not long at all, customers getting drunk, it was lively indeed.

Though nothing ever happened between you and Jareth, he still held a place in your heart, as well as being your best friend.

That's when you heard it.

"Doo doo doo-doo doo doo doo doo

Doo doo doo-doo doo doo doo doo

Doo doo doo-doo doo doo doo doo" you head had shot up,in search of him, but you couldn't see him.

"You've got your mother in a whirl

She's not sure if you're a boy or a girl

Hey babe, your hair's alright

Hey babe, let's go out tonight

You like me, and I like it all

We like dancing and we look divine

You love bands when they're playing hard

You want more and you want it fast

They put you down, they say I'm wrong

You tacky thing, you put them on." Then you saw him, on the stage , well sort of a stage.

Catching sight of his mullet, down to his eyes, he had not noticed you, you wondered if Sparrow had told him you were here. You hoped he would see you.

"Rebel rebel, you've torn your dress

Rebel rebel, your face is a mess

Rebel rebel, how could they know?

Hot tramp, I love you so!" Thats when Jareth finally caught your eyes, holding eye contact as he sang, Blush upon your face. You had gotten up and went to the bar, ordering something strong, before retiring to your seat.

As Jareth had already started another song, you smacked down your drink.

"There's such a sad love

Deep in your eyes a kind of pale jewel

Open and closed

Within your eyes

I'll place the sky

Within your eyes." Jareth , catching your eye, gesturing you to come closer , with his hand.

"There's such a fooled heart

Beatin' so fast

In search of new dreams

A love that will last

Within your heart

I'll place the moon

Within your heart"

Standing up , Kili watched you as you walked towards the stranger man, as did the other dwarves.

"As the pain sweeps through

Makes no sense for you

Every thrill is gone

Wasn't too much fun at all

But I'll be there for you-ou-ou

As the world falls down."

Jareth had held knelt down, holding his gloved hand for you to take, which you did. Pulling you up onto the stage. Still holding onto your hand, still singing, as he continued singing, you placed your hand on his shoulder as he placed his other hand on your waist.Kili's heart ached.

"Falling

As the world falls down

Falling

Falling in love." As you two danced , in sync, you truly loved Jareth, Kili stood up , went to the bar to get another drink.

"I'll paint you mornings of gold

I'll spin you Valentine evenings though we're strangers 'til now

We're choosing the path

Between the stars

I'll leave my love

Between the stars." Jareth had taught you how to dance, and every time you visited , he'd give you another song he had written for your book. A book which held all his songs.

"As the pain sweeps through

Makes no sense for you

Every thrill is gone

Wasn't too much fun at all

But I'll be there for you-ou-ou

As the world falls down

Falling

As the world falls down

Falling

As the world falls down

Falling

Falling in love

As the world falls down

Falling

Falling in love

As the world falls down

Makes no sense at all

Makes no sense to fall

Falling

As the world falls down

Falling

Falling in love

As the world falls down

Falling

Falling in love

Falling in love." As soon as the song was over, you both had gotten of stage and you had jumped into Jareths arms.

"Missed you."

"Ditto,"

Jareth had looked over to your table, "so you are travelling with dwarves now?" You had smiled , looking back your table, Kili wasn't there. "Yes, Jareth, I'm going on an adventure, we have already seen trolls."

Grinning down at you, realisation hit Jareth, and went rushed to his bag quickly before returning back to you with a sheet of paper.

'Magic dance.'

"Just in case you meet a Goblin king. So who is your beloved?" Taking the piece of paper, looking at into Jareths blue eyes in confusion. "W-what?"

"The dwarf that stormed out, he does not like me." Jareth had chuckled, as you folded the piece of paper up placing it away. "We aren't together."

"Maybe you should go check on him, y/n/n, come see me later, I'm staying here tonight." You had briefly hugged Jareth before leaving the pub.

That's when you heard it, "stupid fucking hairless, fuck." Local drunks harassing Kili. "Oi, what are you doing?" The men had turned briefly to look at you, before scoffing. "Fuck of tramp."

You had marched up to the greasy man, pulling by the shoulder, to face you , and kneeing him in the crotch, making the man double over. Kili had punched one of them. The men soon ran, when you had tackled one of them, beating them into mash, when Kili had pulled you off,the ground, trying to get out of his grip. All the men ran.

"It's me, y/n, stop, if you continued you would have been arrested." Placing , you back onto the floor, Kili had soon walked off, heading to his room, you following. But he had closed the door before you could get in.

This, you climbed up the roof hanging over the roof, to look into Kili's room. Looking like Spiderman. Kili sat on his bed staring at the wall, not moving, jumping when you knocked the window.

He had rushed to the window when he had seen you , hanging of the roof, you definitely couldn't hold on longer. Though Kili wasn't tear stained , it was clear that he was upset. He had opened the window, helping you in.

"What are you doing? On the roof, what if you fell." He as definitely annoyed, "I would not have, plus I wouldn't have to if you let me in before." You definitely would have fell.

He hadn't answered this time, just sat on the bed, away from you, you sat next to him on the bed.

"Kili, talk to me, tell me what has made you not yourself. Please, Kili." You didn't dare touch him, but you did placing your hand on his foreman. "Why don't you go to your beloved? You won't be seeming him for a while , instead of bothering me." You had scoffed pulling your hand off of him, you already knew he ran off because of Jareth.

"You are very stupid dwarf, in all honesty, Jareth is my bestfriend, only friend I had growing up, and don't you think he is a bit old for me?"

"I don't believe it, you like a man that has long soft hair, nothing like me, I can't even grow a beard."

"frankly beards are really gross, tell me that the dwarves don't smell? You know why? Because they drop food all their beards and don't know it." You had laughed, imagine Bombur going through his beard and finding cheese.

"They do smell,"

"Exactly, and what's wrong with your hair, Kili?" You had turned on the bed, bringing your hand up to his hair,touching it gently, moving it out for his face. "I think you've got lovely hair, those guys were just idiots, Jareth had to beat them with a soup spoon once, you are not stupid nor hairless. How could they call you hairless? They are bald?"

Cupping Kili's face, to bringing him to face you, looking into his chestnut eyes. "Y/n, I must confess, that this would not have happened if I did not like you." And with that you had pressed your lips to his.

"Your eyes can be so cruel

Just as I can be so cruel

Oh I do believe in you

Yes I do" Jareth singing faintly could be heard.

#the hobbit x y/n #the hobbit oneshot #the hobbit x #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit kili #hobbit imagine #the hobbit imagines #hobbit imagines #kili x y/n #kili x you #kili imagines #kili imagine #kili x reader #kili the dwarf #labyrinth #crossover

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faefaye · 1 year ago

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I love reccing fics =D.

For authors: auroracode, jiux and catopus. They all have a bunch of great works.

For fics (there are two I've marked with (L) because they can't be read without having an AO3 account) (also check the tags for each because I've mixed up angst and silliness here :p):

A wish that cannot be granted by Ichis_tears: Melissa tags along with Benson and his wife to Midseashire, where she meets the mysterious magician Merlin.

Cheers! by Ichis_tears: Danitz, Anderson and Gehrman spend time on the Golden Dream together and Gehrman lets down a few walls.

Unexpected Reunion by Ichis_tears: Gehrman comes across Melissa and Benson in a bar and is hired to protect them.

Master of the Hounds by TheSilverHunt3r: Klein and the Hounds of Fulgrim interact, and the Tarot Club get to meet one of them too.

(L) home is not a cathedral by kkomaism: Klein as a god, moving further and further from the people he loves even as he tries to stay with them.

The Legend of the Fool by Idontevenknow_anymore: After the Fool falls asleep, the Tarot Club along with certain others are brought into Sefirah Castle to learn the Fool's true past. In short, an LOTM reaction fic with excellent characterisation and interactions. (incomplete but is currently updating, 11 chapters out right now)

gehrman sparrow and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day by Idontevenknow_anymore: Gehrman gets affected by a Sealed Artifact that makes him unable to lie, and Danitz is with him through it.

I Lose you a bit More Each Day by nebulous_squid: Klein as a King of Angels visits Leonard and tries for an honest conversation. (Leonard has feelings for Klein but nothing happens)

(L) Three Cooks Ruining a Pot by Ingol: The three transmigrators can talk to each other through time. Canon doesn't change, but several hijinks follow. (incomplete, 11 chapters out right now)

Other than this, I've made a long post on Tumblr for Chinese fic recs from both AO3 and Lofter. While there are some ship recs included in it, the first section is solely for gen (aka platonic) fics.

I also write platonic fics on AO3 under Coroniel :p, mainly about Klein and/or Azik.

As for stuff other than fics, there's a YouTube channel called LOTM that posts LOTM videos from various sources with the original credited, you'll probably find a bunch of stuff to enjoy from that. Two of my favourites are the Dramaturgy AMV and the Outsider AMV.

crumbs anyone?

aye.. uh.. I have just finished LOTM 1 recently and now Im craving for any crumbs or well any LOTM stuff.. it can be just a silly stuff or you advertising your creations(Arts/fanfic/amv/animation/others) ^^

I prefer Platonic/Family type kind(Specialy Morretis sib) or silly fun stuff or maybe ideas based on the Novel... anything I'll take :>

#lord of the mysteries #lotm #lord of mysteries #fic recs #lotm recs #lotm stuff #reblog

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thecaffeinebookwarrior · 5 years ago

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The Many Faces of the Strong Female Character

The much-requested, positive counterpart to my classic “Female Characters to Avoid in Your Writing” and it’s much-later sequel.

Here, I will discuss some of my favorite fictional ladies and what makes them work so well; given my rapturous love of women, there will probably be a sequel! In the meantime, I talk more about portraying female characters here.

Happy writing, everybody! <3

1.) The Warrior

(Gif credit.)

When most people hear “strong female character,” they picture the most popular definition of the term: a stony-faced, emotionally shallow, conventionally attractive broad who punches and kicks stuff. She may occasionally shout things like, “I DON’T NEED NO MAN,” while perhaps punching a small baby.

I decided to start with my wife Diana, because she is the perfect antithesis of this trope. She isn’t stony, she’s courageous. She’s unabashed about showing her doubts, hopes, affections, and optimism. Her love interest never steals her spotlight, but she feels no need to shun romance to appear “strong.” She’s beautiful, but not sexualized or objectified.

And while most Strong Female Characters™ are ironically reduced to damsels in distress at some point in their own narratives, Diana consistently takes the lead, totally autonomous over her own story.

You can kick ass AND love babies, people. Joss Whedon, please take notes.

(Gif credit)

Other examples: Okoye from Black Panther, Furiosa from Mad Max: Fury Road, Rey from Star Wars, and Ser Brienne of Tarth from Game of Thrones.

2.) The Comedian

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If you haven’t watched Chewing Gum on Netflix, stop whatever you’re doing and watch it right now. Its relatively simple premise – a twenty-four-year-old from a fundamentalist Christian household struggles to lose her virginity – is a segway into a hilarious, genuine exploration of human sexuality, relationships, and how we forge our identities.

Brilliantly portrayed by the series’ creator, Michaela Coel, Tracy is essentially that one friend who knows exactly what you’ve been thinking and isn’t afraid to say so. She is never relegated to a single trope or stereotype. She’s stumbling, clumsily but enthusiastically, through the life experiences that shape us. Most importantly, she is allowed to be sexually curious, awkward, aggressive, insecure, and – I can’t stress this enough – hilarious. The dialogue is infinitely quotable, and endlessly relatable.

(Image source)

Watching shows like Chewing Gum makes me realize how few female characters – and even fe wer Black female characters – are portrayed as truly human. Typically, they’re allowed to be sexy, but not sexual. They’re allowed to be awkward, but only if it’s cute. They can be insecure, but only if that insecurity can easily be solved by the affirmations of a male love interest. And they’re rarely allowed to be the main source of a series’ comedy.

So remember: let your female characters be human. Let them be awkward, funny, sexual philosophers. It’s easier than you think.

(Gif source)

Other examples: Abbi and Ilan from Broad City, Leslie from Parks and Rec, Tina from Bob’s Burgers.

3.) The Drama Queen

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Watching Riverdale is like hurtling along on a structurally unstable rollercoaster. It’s utterly insane, a lot of fun, and once you’re on, you can’t stop.

But amidst the explosions of batshit crazy plot points, killer cults, and the existential perplexity of finding yourself attracted to emo Jughead, there are some real gems. One of these is Cheryl Blossom, and pretty much every plot line surrounding her.

Cheryl is introduced as a fairly one-dimensional, catty mean girl, though the Regina George-esque charisma with which she’s portrayed makes her instantly likable. Initially, we expect her to be a character we’ll love to hate.

(Gif source)

And yet, within the first few episodes, I was impressed by how layered and complex her motivations were. Much of contempt towards others was misdirected rage from an upbringing of extreme emotional abuse, and grief over her dead brother -- all portrayed without a Snape-style condonation of said behavior. By the end of season one, my thoughts were generally, “Oh, crap, I don’t think I can claim to be watching this ‘ironically’ anymore,” and “MORE CHERYL.”

(Gif source)

Season two answered my wish, and then some. Cheryl was saved from an (impressively conscientiously portrayed) attempt at sexual assault by a pack of her female friends, and her attacker got the shit beat out of him in one of the most cathartic moments of modern television.

To the exaltation of my queer heart, she also came out as a lesbian, in a deeply moving story arc that I never would have expected from this show. Without spoiling too much, she and her new love interest kissing in front of anti-gay propaganda footage was legitimately one of the most powerful moments I have ever witnessed.

(Gif source)

Before the season was over, she viciously threatened her abusive, homophobic mother while covered in blood, shot a serial killer with a bow and arrow, and joined a gang. If that’s not gay culture, I don’t know what is.

Oh, how I wish this show was just about her.

Other examples: Alexis from Schitt’s Creek.

4.) The Lovable Bastard

(Gif source)

Ah, The Good Place. I have never experienced such a breath of comedic fresh air. A new philosophical principle each episode, examined and applied in hilarious and thought-provoking ways. A complete absence of harmful stereotypes. Incredibly lovable, three-dimensional, and ever-evolving characters.

I was considering using my queen Tahani for this list, who externally larger-than-life and internally vulnerable after emotional abuse by her parents. Also, she’s hilarious. Everyone and everything in The Good Place is hilarious. And I also thought about talking about Janet, who is the best character in anything ever, but of course:

(Gif source)

Instead, I’ll be talking about bisexual icon Eleanor, who is something very few female characters get to be: the lovable bastard.

(Gif source)

Eleanor, when we first meet her, is not traditionally good in any sense of the word. She turned down a high-paying job because she was expected to be nice to people. She sold placebos to the elderly, and was great at it. She was drunken, slovenly, hedonistic, and selfish. And she’s instantly incredibly likable.

Why and how Eleanor is so enjoyable, even at her very worst, merits an essay all its own. But in a nutshell:

We empathize with her. We are introduced to “The Good Place” completely through her eyes. We are in her shoes.

The stakes are high. When we discover that her entry into the good place was a mistake, we want her to be okay.

We come to understand her, and how her terrible childhood shaped her destructive behavior.

She wants to be a better person, and with time, effort, and character development, we watch her become one.

Not only is this an amazing lesson in how to endear audiences to your character, it is also infinitely refreshing. The most famous lovable bastards are all men -- Han Solo, Dr. House, Captain Jack Sparrow, the Man With No Name, et cetera -- but women are rarely afforded the same moral complexity. If a woman in fiction has done bad things, she’s not usually a lovable bastard. She’s usually a bitch.

Eleanor isn’t just a great character. She conveys an important lesson: women are people. People with the same capacity for mistakes, growth, redemption, and love as anyone else.

(Image source)

Other examples: Chloe from Don’t Trust the B*tch in Apartment 23

5.) The Cinderella

(Gif source)

Yep. I said it. Cinderella is a strong female character.

My girl not only survived in an abusive household, she persistently stayed positive. She worked each day to make the best of an impossible situation, from which she had no means of escape. That takes an insane amount of courage and tenacity.

But Caff, I hear you scream, she needed help to escape!! Well, my imaginary counterargument, so the fuck what? MOST people need help to escape their abusive situations, and there’s no shame in that. Accepting help from someone you trust is the best thing you can do in a situation such as that, and implying otherwise is horribly damaging to victims of abuse.

But she married the prince, you more feebly protest. Yes! She did! She found love and happiness and a great life in a socially influential position! And that’s an amazing message!

So in the flurry of female warriors, let’s not forget Cinderella, who tells people that their terrible circumstances won’t last forever, to stay hopeful and kind, and that accepting help from a trusted friend can lead to a happy life.

Cinderella is a bad bitch, and she deserves her happily ever after.

(Gif source)

Other examples: For some reason, I’m thinking of Sansa from Game of Thrones. When people try to discredit her as a strong character, they often make similar complaints. But both, quite fittingly, end up as queens.

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eldritchsurveys · 5 years ago

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782.

Have you ever had a computer virus before? >> Nope, never. I don’t know if I’m just especially lucky or what, but I have zero experience with malware, viruses, or any of that.

Are you dependent upon anyone? >> Of course. Everyone’s dependent on someone, even if only indirectly.

Are there any book characters you'd like to portray? >> Like, as an actor in a movie adaptation or something? No, thanks.

Who did you last text? >> I sent Sparrow a bitmoji in response to her text.

Is there anything on your bed right now? >> Yeah, me. Also, an assortment of plushies, two weighted blankets, a hoodie, my phone, and my headphones.

When was the last time you went to the grocery store? >> It’s been a couple of weeks since I personally went. I stopped doing the grocery runs because of the mask rule; Sparrow is way better with wearing masks than I am. What way would you like to die when it's your time? >> As uneventfully as possible, please.

What are you most afraid of in the world? >> Some possible aspects of death. Also, confinement of any kind, like incarceration or being put in a mental hospital.

Have you ever been caving? >> Nope.

Do you do well in math related things? >> I don’t know, I don’t usually do any math-related things aside from the most basic kind.

What is your favorite fruit? >> I don’t have one.

If you had to choose, which sibling would you live with? >> ---

Do you have any tattoos? >> Yes.

Are you planning on getting any in the near future? >> No.

When was your last date? >> ---

When did you get Facebook? >> I don’t remember when I first signed up for it. Probably like 10 years ago or thereabouts.

Are any of your family members in jail? >> ---

What was your first pet's name? >> Roxie.

Are you good when it comes to computer issues? >> I don’t think my skill level at dealing with computer issues is particularly high. I basically just google the problems I don’t immediately know how to solve and try out different solutions, which literally anyone is capable of doing. I think what I’m good at is not having computer issues in the first place, considering every machine I’ve had has performed remarkably well over a pretty decent lifespan (except for Normandy, which just randomly died one day, but I think that was a heat issue and I’ve learned from it).

Are there any people at your job who absolutely hates you? >> ---

What was the last book you read? >> The last book I finished is The Poisonwood Bible.

Have you ever read any books in one day? >> Sure.

What was the last thing you bought? >> A nightstand.

What are your plans for tomorrow? >> I don’t have any plans for tomorrow.

Is there any jewelry you wear constantly? >> Yeah, I never take out my earrings or nose ring.

Are your fingernails painted at the moment? >> No.

Do you prefer cool, warm or neutral colors? >> I like a variety of colours for different reasons.

Have you ever taken art classes? >> Only in grade school and probably junior high.

What's the most boring movie you've ever seen? >> I have no idea.

Do you know how to work a cash register? >> I mean, I could figure it out.

Fact or fiction novels? >> A novel is fiction, period. But if you mean whether I prefer historical and realistic fiction, or fantastic fiction... well, usually the latter.

Have you ever suffered from depression? >> Yes.

Do you think you're a clingy person? >> No, because I’m not.

Do you enjoy kisses on the cheek? >> Not particularly.

Have you ever been in a physical fight before? >> Yes, quite a few times.

How often would you say you disagree with your parents? >> ---

What color shirt did you wear yesterday? >> Black.

Do you have a job? If so, do you like it? >> ---

Have you ever been called a slut before? >> Maybe.

What's something you've been craving? >> I’m not really craving anything that I’ve noticed.

Have you ever slept with your window open? >> I sleep with my window open for almost the entire year, actually. Even in winter I have it cracked at night, because I get really hot in my sleep.

Can you play violin? >> No.

What was the last desert you had? >> I don’t remember the last time I had a dessert.

Have you ever had a wild animal as a pet? >> No.

Do you know anyone you talk to on Facebook but won't talk to in person? >> No.

What color are your mother's eyes? >> ---

Do you have a best friend? If so, how long have you been best friends? >> I do not.

Do you cry easily? >> I mean, I don’t think so.

Have you ever been into a court room? >> Yes.

How many necklaces would you say you own? >> I own five necklaces. Soon to be six, when it gets here.

Do you plan on being strict towards your children? >> ---

Do you own any tie-dye shirts? >> Nope.

What would you say is your favorite day of the week? >> I have a particular affection towards Wednesday, but I don’t really have a favourite day of the week.

Do you ever wear lipstick? >> Ever, sure. But not usually.

Do you own a pool? >> No.

Do you have a Tumblr account? >> What’s a tumblr

Would you say you're overweight? >> I wouldn’t.

How many colors are in your hair? >> Well, two that I can see.

Do you flirt with a lot of people? >> I don’t flirt with anyone.

How many bank accounts do you have? >> One.

Have you ever been falsely accused of starting drama? >> Probably.

How old are you? >> 32.

Do you attend church regularly? >> I don’t.

Have you ever found a song that describes your whole life? >> No song can describe my whole life, but there are songs that fit uncannily with certain aspects of my life.

What time did you wake up this morning? >> 7 or so.

What time do you plan on waking up tomorrow morning? >> I don’t plan for that, I just wake up whenever I feel like it.

What kind of car do you drive? >> I don’t.

What kind of car would you like to have? >> ---

Have you ever been to Dairy Queen? If so, what's your favorite thing to eat from there? >> Yeah, I’ve been there, but I don’t have a favourite thing from there. I don’t care for their stuff.

How old did you turn on your last birthday? >> 32...? This is basically just the same question as before, innit.

Ever felt like falling apart? >> Yes.

Have you ever been in an ambulance? >> Yeah.

Do you tend to worry a lot? >> No.

How old were you when you lost your first tooth? >> I have no idea.

Do you remember your first time on the internet? >> I only vaguely remember it.

Which website do you email from? >> Gmail.

Do you enjoy receiving souvenirs? >> I don’t really receive souvenirs. Which is perfectly fine.

Do you get angry with people easily? >> No.

Do a lot of people dislike you or is it the other way around? >> I don’t know if a lot of people dislike me, it’s not like people are often up-front about that sort of thing. I don’t dislike too many people.

Have you ever had the flu? >> No.

What about strep throat? >> No.

What would you say is the worst kind of emotional pain? >> I wouldn’t say, because it makes no sense to me to “rate” pain like that.

Have you ever been to a psychologist? >> Yeah.

What's the worst part about school? >> You know, the whole thing.

Do you normally have a lot of homework, if you're still in school? >> ---

When was your last vacation? >> January.

Would you ever consider going on a cruise? >> I’d consider it.

What did you last buy from the store? >> I haven’t been inside a store in a few weeks.

Would you say you enjoy being single or in a relationship more? >> I wouldn’t say, because that’s not really how it works.

Do you try to stay busy a lot? >> No.

What's your favorite quote? >> I don’t know, man.

Do you lie a lot? >> I rarely lie.

Do you still act childish most of the time? >> No.

Did you ever enjoy gym class? >> The only time I enjoyed it were the semesters I got to take archery.

What is your biggest insecurity? >> I have no idea.

Have you ever painted a room alone? >> No.

Speaking of which, when did you last paint your room? >> I didn’t?

What does your favorite jacket / hoodie look like? >> The hoodie I wear the most (aside from the one I just wear around the house) is a New Orleans Museum of Death hoodie.

What's for dinner tonight? >> I don’t know.

Do you ever drink alcohol? >> Yes.

Have you ever had a terrible hangover? >> No.

Do you ever get migraines? >> No.

Do you know how to garden? >> I mean, I generally know how to put seeds in the ground and water them. The specific mechanics of growing specific things are not necessarily known to me, but that’s what the internet is for.

What was the last thing you plugged into an outlet? >> Probably my computer charger.

Do people consider you to be a funny person? >> I don’t know, do they?

Do you have any bad habits? >> Of course I do.

Do you like children? If not, why is this? >> I like them fine. At the very least, I respect them as people, even if I can’t stand to be around them for [usually] sensory reasons.

What is your favorite snack? >> I don’t know, I have a few go-tos.

Do you own any gaming systems? >> We have several.

How old were your parents when they had you? >> My father was 52 and my mother was in her early or mid 20s.

Is there a big age difference between you and the person you like? >> ---

Do you trashtalk people a lot? >> No.

What is the most amusing thing on the internet, in your opinion? >> Just... memes. I like memes. Also animals being derpy.

Does the future excite you or scare you? >> It has little to no effect on me, I don’t properly conceptualise the future as a thing.

Have you ever been to Disney World? If so, how many times have you been? >> No.

Do you try to spend a lot of time with family? >> ---

How often do you shower? >> Every couple of days.

What would you say is your favorite genre of music? >> I wouldn’t say. I like a lot of genres.

Do you need to clean your bedroom? >> Yeah. I’m going to finally do it when the new nightstand gets here, so probably Wednesday.

What do you plan on doing with the rest of your life? >> You know. Living.

Do you enjoy Chinese food? >> Occasionally. Most of the time I merely tolerate it.

Do you smile a lot? >> I don’t know, what’s a lot?

What is your favorite movie from the nineties? >> Maybe Event Horizon.

Which decade were you born in? >> The eighties.

Are you good at giving advice to people? >> I don’t know, I don’t usually do it.

How many huge secrets do you have? >> Zero.

How many people know these secrets? >> ---

How many times a day do you brush your teeth? >> Once, if that.

Do you ever floss? >> No, it feels horrible.

Have you ever been in a long-term relationship? >> Yes.

Ever considered suicide? If so, did you try to commit suicide? >> Yes and yes.

Is there anyone out there who makes you feel completely useless? >> No, I usually do that on my own.

Do you like texting or calling people more? >> I only text.

What's your favorite band? >> Zeal & Ardor is one.

Do you have a lot of friends? >> No.

Have you ever painted something and been impressed by it? >> I don’t know, maybe when I was young.

Would you rather go out to eat or stay in? >> Right now, I’d kill to eat somewhere that wasn’t my apartment.

When did you last babysit, if ever? >> ---

Do you have any younger siblings? >> No.

Have you ever thought of someone as useless? >> Not that I can recall. It feels weird to think of people in terms of what “use” they can be to oneself.

Have you ever considered bleaching your hair? >> Yeah, and then I did it.

Do you drink vitamin water? >> Nope. Do they even still sell that? I haven’t seen it in a while.

Do you ever straighten your hair? >> No.

What's the best way to end a conversation? >> I would assume that depends on the nature of the conversation and the depth of the relationship between the participants.

Are there any old movies you absolutely love? >> Of course.

Have you ever had a Big Mac before? >> Yes.

Do you think you attract the opposite sex at a reasonable rate? >> The reasonable rate for me is zero, so yeah, I think so.

Where is your favorite place to travel? >> Oh, you know. Almost anywhere.

What is your goal for the next few months? >> I have no goal. Except, I guess, maintaining equilibrium.

Can you count to ten in another language other than your own? >> Yeah.

Do you own a lot of shoes? >> Nope, I own two pairs (and two pairs of weather boots).

What is your favorite season and why? >> Spring. It just is, man.

Does photography interest you at all? >> Not really. I like looking at photographs other people have taken, though.

Have you ever played on a sports team before? If you have, what was that sport and when? >> When I was in school. I tried field hockey and predictably sucked total ass at it. (I say “predictably” in hindsight. I had no concept of my abilities and disabilities back then.)

Have you ever filed a lawsuit on someone? >> No.

Do you think you're a good singer? >> I think I can hold a tune, but if I was going to be good I would need to practice more and probably get a coach. Fortunately, being “good” at singing isn’t a priority of mine, so I’m perfectly happy just being able to hold a tune.

Would you rather wear jeans or sweatpants? >> Sweatpants, absolutely.

Do you think you have a good sense of style? >> It’s good for me.

Do you enjoy reading often? >> Yes.

Have you ever had a deadly illness? >> No.

Ever had food-poisoning before? >> Yes.

Where did you last eat dinner at? >> On the couch, watching Sparrow play Persona 5.

Have you ever shot a gun before? >> No.

#surveys #survey #random survey #this one has 150+ questions so be forewarned lol

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buttercupart · 4 years ago

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“whats LRVDD about”

Sparrow Pines’ Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day

#itsss My oc indulgence wombo combo crossover and I get to choose the clownery #not art #oc stuff #long post

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imaginepirates · 6 years ago

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Mini Series

Something Informative

For @chiminie-pabo. You, dear reader, have an interesting run-in with Captain Sparrow, and you gain some much needed insight on James.

Other Chapters: 1 2

You left James to read his book the next morning, choosing to go out and get some groceries. Mostly, you needed to buy breakfast foods for the two of you. James had insisted on coming along, but you had told him that it wouldn’t take you long, and that he should enjoy his downtime. In reality, you wanted some alone time to think. James seemed nice enough, but you weren’t sure if he was entirely trustworthy.

You reminded yourself that he had every right to keep secrets. The two of you weren’t old friends or some such thing, so he had no reason to answer any of your questions at all. Still, he was an educated man with mysterious motives. You couldn’t help but be interested. You’d never had someone like him stumble upon your little bar, and you wanted to know why someone like him would end up in Tortuga.

You absentmindedly looked at the wares people had spread out on tables. The prices of food were going up; you’d make sure to thank the next East India officer you met. The East India Trading Company made it hard to get things cheaply. They controlled too much of trade and had too big an impact on the poor. At the rate things were going, you’d starve to death within the year.

The fruit you bought wasn’t horribly priced. If the Caribbean was good at anything, it was growing fruit, and local products were always cheaper than those from far off places. The lady selling you your things had a kind face with deep smile lines. She was an old but cheerful woman, and you couldn’t help but think that she would’ve been better off in a nice little coastal town in Cuba.

Dropping the items in your cloth bag, you turned to find a familiar face, though it didn’t find you. Telltale dreadlocks swayed back and forth as the pirate walked among the stalls, picking things up and setting them back down, squinting and making odd faces. You eyed him with distaste.

Why had he been so afraid of James? You guessed the two of them had a bad past, but how awful could James have been? He seemed like such a nice gentleman; he couldn’t have done something utterly terrible. Why, then, did the pirate have such a bad reaction?

You watched the man stumble into the owner of a market stall. When they pulled away, the pirate apologizing profusely, a bag left its place at its owner’s hip to be in the pirate’s hand. It was a small pouch of money, but no doubt it was all the shop-owner had. You furrowed your eyebrows. You saw nasty men all day, every day, but it didn’t mean you condoned of their behavior.

“Hey!” You hollered. “Thief!”

The word was enough to get others into action. People sprang about, looking for the alleged man. You pointed at the pirate with a finger, and he began separating himself from the crowd to run away. You didn’t want to be part of a great chase, but you hoped that he’d be caught. He’d probably done many things that deserved public justice.

You watched the scene unfold with no little amusement. Pirating was all good and fine until someone actually got robbed from. Then, things could get hot. Piracy was tolerated in Tortuga- even encouraged- but only if it didn’t affect anybody within city limits. How ironic.

You started heading back, stepping into an alley to get to the bar faster. Entering the street, things were just fine. How you ended up shoved through a doorway and pressed against a wall with a hand over your mouth, you didn’t know. Thankfully, your bag still seemed full, but you couldn’t look down to make sure.

“Rat,” someone hissed.

You looked up into dark, kohl rimmed eyes, eyebrows slanted down in distrustful annoyance.

“I could’ve gotten away with that much more easily. But you took it upon your pious soul to say something.” He shook his head. “Women.”

You were tempted to bite his fingers, but you didn’t know what kind of dirt covered them. If you had, you might’ve given the pirate a nip to show him a piece of your mind. Even without prompting, he lifted his hand from your mouth and stopped pinning you to the wall. You tried to speak, but he shushed you, listening intently to the goings on outside whatever room you were in. After a stretch of silence, he allowed you to talk, though he encouraged that you do so quietly.

“It’s what anyone else would’ve done,” you hissed.

“No, it’s not, because everyone else would’ve minded their own damn business. I don’t know what little angel you think you are—”

You slapped him, hard, right across the face. “You have no right. You’re the one who comes into my bar and talks to me. You pry into my life and my business. Don’t say that I mess with the way you do things. As far as I’m concerned, thievery is still a crime here.”

He mumbled something under his breath that you couldn’t quite catch, but you squinted at him anyway. “What’s your name?” He finally asked.

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” he said flatly.

The response surprised you, and you smiled a bit. “Y/N,” you responded.

“Alright, Y/N. What do you say to never pulling a stunt like you just did ever again?”

“I would have no reason to agree to those terms.”

“Let me make this a little clearer.” He stepped closer to you, your chests practically touching. “I have some information on that boy of yours what’s staying in your tavern. I think you might like to know it.”

You considered, eyeing the pirate. “First, I’d like your name. It’s only fair.”

He looked slightly offended. “I’m Cap’n Jack Sparrow.”

You involuntarily stepped back against the wall. The Captain Jack Sparrow? Truly? Impossible! But he was very handsome, and he did have tattoos on his arms and hands rather similar to those in the book, and the beads hanging from his headscarf matched the description. But really? Him?

“I don’t believe you,” you said.

“Believe me or not, I still know about that man, and I think you’re interested. He’s different, isn’t he?”

“Very,” you agreed.

Jack- or maybe he wasn’t- slid away from you into the shadows of the room. It was a cellar of some sort. He poked his head out the door, and upon deeming it safe, strolled out into the street. You quickly followed, trying to keep up.

He lead you down a number of side streets you’d never set foot in before arriving at the wharf. There, a number of ships stood proud, though there were many littler ones dotted about. Jack didn’t go to any of them, instead heading towards a tipsy man with a kind face. He had been the one Jack had pulled out of your bar earlier. Jack waved a hand in front of the man’s face, pulling him to awareness.

“Gibbs. This is the fine young woman who owns the bar in which Captain Norrington is staying.”

Gibbs hummed. Then, “Captain Norrington? Captain Norrington! It’s no good to have him around, Jack.”

“I’m well aware.” Jack scratched a spot on his temple. “Now,” he turned to you, “you must know that the man staying in your place works for the Navy.”

You raised your eyebrows.

“Untrustworthy already.” Jack paced. “It would be much appreciated if you could keep an eye on him. It would be rather unfortunate if he happened to head my way, you see.” The pirate flashed you an uncomfortable smile. “If you could keep track of when he leaves, have somebody posted at your backdoor to tell me… I would be in your debt.”

“You’re in a lot of debt,” mused Gibbs, who’s head lolled back on his neck in a drunken manner.

Jack grumbled, but you thought about what he was saying. “You mean for me to believe that James is part of the British Navy?”

“He is. And he’s letting you call him by his first name, eh?” Jack’s eyebrows shot up suggestively.

“To be more undercover, I suspect.”

“To be sure.”

“What would I get from this? How would it benefit me?”

Jack pondered the question, fingers stroking his chin. It occurred to you that he liked to strike a pose, and you found it quite amusing.

“What if I told you that no man would ever pester you again? That you could be assured of your safety?”

“And just how would you do that?”

“A name can go a long way, love.”

You felt heat rising to your cheeks. Love? You tried to stifle your embarrassment as much as you could. You hated to help the pirate, but at the same time, he made a tempting offer.

“Deal,” you said.

When you returned to the tavern, James looked up with what you thought might be a worried glance. “I thought you said things wouldn’t take long. I should’ve accompanied you.”

You looked at him in a new light. Yes, only a man raised to be properly British would offer to help a barmaid with her shopping. “Don’t worry,” you said. “I just ran into someone.”

#potc #pirate #pirates #pirates of the caribbean #mini series #series #x reader #jack sparrow #james norrington #commodore norrington #jack sparrow x reader #drabble

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suggestionsofthecaribbean · 6 years ago

Text

H34v3nlie Måll: Elizabeth & James

Elizabeth and James wake up the next morning. Their plans for the day are simple enough: see to his cracked tooth and evacuate the mall. That couldn’t possibly go wrong, could it?

For the second morning in a row, Elizabeth woke with a kiss.

Yesterday, however, all had been well; yesterday night had been a different story. Stormy, one might have said. In spite of how they had made up, she had still gone to sleep unconvinced of their future together.

“What’s that for,” Elizabeth murmured, careful not to breathe on him. The lights were on; morning it was again. Elizabeth checked her phone and gently swore. It was later than she wanted to be up.

“It's something I never grow tired of. Let me indulge myself,” James said, his voice rougher and even lower than usual from sleep.

Elizabeth couldn’t say she minded. And let him not tire of it, she hoped. And if he proved false today, at least she would have memories.

“I would have thought last night’s activities put you in a sullen mood,” she teased.

“Mm. Well. I hope you consider me properly chastened…”

“You did serve me rather well.”

“And frequently, as I recall.”

Elizabeth found herself laughing self-consciously. There was a throaty quality to her voice at this hour. She was not fully awake - not awake enough for this, although she had first mentioned it.

“Well, you seem recovered enough,” said Elizabeth, forcing herself to sit.

“Your kisses are a very capable curative,” said James, who had resolutely stayed on his back.

Seeing James did not plan to get up, Elizabeth moved to lie on him, tucking her head on his chest and sinking against him.

“Bad breath and all?”

“No one is otherwise first thing in the morning,” he laughed.

“I should think that would damage my healing powers somewhat.” Her throat felt dry.

“I'm not going to quibble with you about morning breath,” he said gently, as he tilted his head to look down at her. “Suffice it to say it does not.”

“You’re soft in the mornings,” she noted mildly.

“Hm?”

“Sweet, I should say.”

“I'm feeling somewhat improved,” he said with a small shrug. “My mouth is still a pain, but that's only a matter of time.”

“Remember, I want it if you lose it-”

“I know,” James groaned, though not particularly vehemently. “I can't for the life of me understand why, but I think you know how I enjoy spoiling you.”

She touched her throat absent-mindedly. “I want to wear it-”

“I cannot help but feel I should not be as touched as I am.”

Elizabeth breezed her fingertips along his chest, up and down. James closed his eyes, with a surprised smile.

“Good morning, love.”

“Do you feel touched?” she quizzed him.

“Elizabeth-”

He began to laugh, covering his mouth with one hand. Satisfied, Elizabeth settled down again, face all but buried.

James slid his fingers into her hair and ruffled lightly, without judgment.

“Would that we did not have to get up. I would be content to spend all day in here.”

“We should be leaving today,” she reminded him. “We should have gotten up early for that. Set an example.”

“I know,” he said. “More’s the pity.”

“I thought you wanted to leave.”

“This place? Absolutely,” he said with a scoff. “This bed, on the other hand-”

“We’ve got a bed on the Pearl,” she reminded him. “And on the Empress…”

“I know,” he repeated. “But I’m afraid I’m rather absorbed by the moment…”

He smiled tiredly down at her as he lifted her hair and let it spill through his fingers, split ends be damned.

“The bed on the Empress,” Elizabeth whispered confidentially. “Really it’s rather spectacular. For horrible reasons, one can assume. But, regardless. I last lay in it a heartsick and frustrated virgin, and next I will lie in it with you.”

“Closer than a bride,” he said, with a carefully contained smile to spare her the sight of the inside of his mouth- though, realizing how she might take that reluctance, he added, “and twice as eager.”

She remembered how eager a bride she was, and for someone else, but it was thankfully early enough that her facial expressions lagged behind her feelings, and this time she pinched any grimaces away before they could bloom on her face.

“A large bed is a terrible place to be lonely,” she said vaguely, rubbing grit out of her eyes. “My face feels swollen.”

“It is,” he agreed, in a quiet voice, as his hand descended to the back of her neck through her hair and rubbed a little more pensively. “I look forward to ending that for you.”

She thought about apologizing, telling him she knew it wasn’t the ship he’d hoped for them to end up on. But there was a bigger hurt there than her, she knew, and she didn’t know how to heal it. It seemed unfair that she couldn’t alone, but that was the way things were.

“I’ll miss the Pearl, though, I admit. And we’ll all miss out, trying to see which of her captains wins…”

“I've no such attachment to it,” he said bluntly. “I prefer to think of a less furtive future with you.”

“I’ll miss her crew,” she retorted, and sighed. “I hope my boys will keep up their lessons. I haven’t had much time with them.”

Pintel and Ragetti, the only surviving members of the Pearl’s original crew, had been learning how to read from her. They had a slate and a piece of chalk, limited good humors and Barbossa’s permission as their only tools of learning, but they were surprisingly eager to do it. With growing guilt at the privilege of an education she had taken entirely for granted, Elizabeth did not want to abandon them, but knew they would not be allowed to depart with her if she’d even wanted them to.

“Your boys,” James repeated in amusement.

“You know, they’re the ones who took me on board the Pearl,” she said lightly, “the first time.”

“I suppose that must engender a certain affection,” James said dryly.

“I honestly can’t believe Jack let them join his crew,” she said, in real incredulity. “No one’s told me yet how that happened. Just hopped on with you in Tortuga and there they were and no one’s said a word of it since.”

“The operative words in that sentence being with me. I don't think he was after much in the way of quality.”

“Yes, but they mutinied against him-”

“And I nearly hanged him- twice, I might add, and now he's going about saying that actually serves to better qualify me as his friend. I don't think Sparrow gives these things ordinary consideration.”

“Yes,” said Elizabeth in some exasperation, “but that’s not a betrayal; you were on opposite sides of the law.”

“The heart,” James said flatly.

“You tried to stab Will, and I forgave you,” said Elizabeth still more bluntly. “It seems that he did too, til you absconded with me.”

“I know,” he said. “I think if we're honest with ourselves, the only one among us who hasn't done anything of the sort to a substantial number of the rest of us is Giselle, which only serves to highlight how lucky we are to have her.”

“That’s because Giselle doesn’t come from class or pirates,” said Elizabeth drily. “Her cunning comes from pirate-adjacent at best, and all of her sense of class, style or elegance is her own, she has never had any haughty ladies to impress. She’s a self-made woman. We should all aspire so high.”

“I might have to bring her aboard with me,” he cautioned. “She's rather attached, and I will confess that it's mutual. It's rather like having a sister.”

“If she’ll come. It’s not a fun prospect; more than half the crew has little or no English.”

“And if she'll forgive me for taking the matter of my hair into my own hands,” he said, too lofty even by James Norrington standards to be serious.

“If her man will join us, I expect that will be what decides her.”

“He can teach your crew how to code.”

“They’ll be much obliged if he does,” said Elizabeth, finally feeling awake enough to start, very lazily, picking apart her hair with plans to braid it.

“Here- let me help you with that,” he said as he pushed himself back up to sitting. He gave her a kiss on the temple in passing, along with a small, yet warm, smile.

“You don’t have to do it in the mornings - only at night,” she protested in embarrassment.

“I don't mind it,” he said. “Besides that, I feel I was rather unnecessarily cold toward you last night.”

“I think you may have behaved according to the dictates of circumstance,” she responded with delicacy.

“It was unkind, nonetheless. I’m sorry for that.”

“I don’t recollect you. That may be for the best.”

James pressed his hand above her heart- and by extension, and rather daringly for him- over her breast.

“I feel as though I have neglected not only your authority, but our relationship as well, in my dwelling on my current station. I would like to amend that, if you will permit it.”

Elizabeth could only meet his eyes for a moment.

“Then you may begin with my hair, if it suits you,” she said, believing that would address both his points, and should satisfy him.

James kissed her on the forehead.

“I expect my spirits to improve significantly aboard the Empress, though you will have to help me learn their language.”

“I have some small skill at that,” she said, with a little smile. She had been kissed three times in as many minutes; it lifted the spirits as it was meant to.

James’s own hair was disheveled from sleep to such a vengeful extent that it might as well have been rebelling against years of fastidious grooming, aggressive shearing, and being too limp, dirty and unkempt the last time it had grown out to do much of anything. He raked it back from his face with his hand before he went to brush hers; it was much more noticeably uneven now than it had been last night, but the carelessness with which he responded to it was new in itself.

“My only regret is that I did not look deeply enough into whether or not I wanted to keep anything from this place. I’m rather fond of the bedspread, I’ll admit.”

“Take the bedspread if you want it,” said Elizabeth, amused.

“Well, you know,” he said. “Sentiment and all that. It's practically a wedding bed.”

“Ah, yes,” she said, understanding, and leaning in to nuzzle him, since she had still not seen to her breath.

“And the quondams, of course. What we shall do when those run out again, I’ve no idea-“

“I suppose we’ll have to make them last until we’re ready to settle down,” Elizabeth whispered, then snorted with laughter.

James finished brushing her hair and began rebraiding it.

“I had a thought last night, regarding the Gloriana.”

“Oh?” she asked, soothed by the gentle tugging on her hair.

“I think I have a condition for putting her in fleet. I think she ought to be rechristened.”

“What do you want to name it?” she asked dubiously, belatedly fearing it was going to be something sentimental to stab James in the heart every time he said it - something to evoke the Dauntless, perhaps.

“What would you think of calling her the Weatherby Swann?” he asked, leaning over to look her in the eye.

“I don’t think he would like it,” she said, looking bleary.

“Ah,” James said quickly. “I- all right, then. No matter.”

“I don’t think I’d like the idea of calling a ship my father’s name, it would feel unwieldy on the tongue all the time- and if you think these people aren’t fond of you, I can’t see them being especially fond of the last governor of Port Royal, can you?”

James’s apologetic expression darkened into a glower as he leaned back behind her.

“I want Beckett’s armada to think of him as they perish.”

“That’s all very well and good, but I’d still have to talk about a ship using my father’s name. I don’t like it.”

“Very well. I won’t push it any further.”

He finished the braid.

“Besides,” she reflected, lost in her pragmatism. “I expect the name doesn’t mean much to most of the armada. I doubt most of them even know Beckett- well. What would they know about it?”

“I could have saved him, if I had known,” James said softly.

“Perhaps,” she allowed. “But you don’t know for certain. Perhaps he would have killed you both, and I’d have seen you both in a little boat in the afterlife, helpless to prevent your passage. Believe me, James, when I say I would not have taken your death very well. And then what would have become of me, James?”

She leaned her back to his chest familiarly and shut her eyes.

“Trade myself to Sao Feng and die in the boarding by the Dutchman. You know perfectly well that’s true.”

“I did not mean to darken the day so early,” he said, taking her hands in his and leaning his chin on her head.

Elizabeth tilted her head back a little with affection.

“I’d brighten it, but my breath is too foul.”

“Mine can’t be any better,” he said, smiling down at her. “You’re forgiven.”

Elizabeth bounded out of the bed.

“I’m going to remedy that,” she said, beginning to dress first. Her braid swung around with amusing speed as she hopped into a pair of trousers and pulled on a shirt. “Come on. We’ll be wanted.”

“All right, give me a moment-” James quickly sorted through some of the strange-looking clothes this place had given him and dressed.

“Might I still trouble you to help me with my hair later, as you offered?” he asked as he fiddled with the buttons of his shirt. “I understand if there’s no time, but…” His voice trailed off, as it often did, but he looked up at her again, aching with sincerity.

“God help me, I think I look forward to the attention. It’s odd how that works. I thought my contentment with being your dog was enough.”

“Let’s eat something first,” Elizabeth agreed with a smile. “I think perhaps one thing might lead to more, and I won’t be frustrated by foul breath.”

James laughed, startled.

“Are you already planning that far ahead? I would never have considered that an amorous activity to begin with.”

“I meant kissing, James, but you may get your hopes up.”

Shirt on, she scooped her braid out of the back of it and stepped into a pair of boots.

“Even so,” he said, as he belatedly unfasted the first few buttons of his shirt for her sake. “And may this damned tooth come out if it’s going to before we try-”

Her unwelcome fingers pushed on his cheek to see if she could find where it was. James flinched and instinctively pulled away.

“Ow,” he said pointedly.

She did not mind this, instead moving her fingers to his throat absent-mindedly before turning away and beginning the process of packing things up. She couldn’t bring anything back with her she couldn’t carry underwater, and that was the hard part - wanting to bring clothes and knowing they’d be weighed down. She ended up pulling out a lot of things with reluctance. Ah, but the trousers she’d keep, and possibly a second pair of the boots she’d found - she’d have to go back out into the mall for those -

“We should probably go eat, then direct the packing effort. We might not make it out today; I don’t think everyone is on board with it yet. Well, that should give us some time for me to trim your hair, at least -”

“That’s a low priority, at that,” he conceded. “To be plain with you, I only gathered it back and cut it off, and that was that. I didn’t anticipate your involvement, welcome though it is.”

“Maybe I want to do it.”

He paused halfway through sleeve-rolling.

“That’s… generous,” he said, with a confused little frown.

“You could have asked me to do it from the start, you know,” she said, her frown matching his. “I don’t see why you didn’t, when you think you’d like me to. We make time for other things.”

“It would have seemed a very petty thing for which to pull the king aside.” He smiled a little bitterly. “Particularly with the reputation I’ve built among these people- and I did not even know if you would be willing or able.”

“Lord, you could have still asked. And you didn’t have to ask in front of them, you could have just texted me.”

“Cut it as you like then, later today,” he said, a little bitterly. “I don’t think I shall be able to eat much until I get this thing out of my mouth.”

“Come and drink something then. A juice if you don’t want coffee.”

“Better yet, I find a way of dealing with this and then pack through my headache with the comfort of knowing there's an end in sight,” he said grimly, though he lightened his tone enough to make it clear that he was teasing her when he added, “unless you’d like to do that as well.”

“Hardware store, then?”

James looked faintly alarmed. “Are you serious?”

She smirked. He blinked, a little stunned.

“Are you?” he repeated.

“If you are.”

“So long as you don't expect any dignity from me, I'll allow it,” he conceded.

“I was teasing you.”

“Oh, thank God-”

“But I’ll be serious in a moment if you’re asking me.”

“My only concern is the thought of the crews finding out and assuming this was an intentional punishment.”

“James,” said Elizabeth shortly, sitting heavily on the bed now she was dressed, and looking, she hoped, like a proper pirate in spite of things - “if you want me to do it then I will. If you don’t, I will not. Is that clear enough to you?”

He had to weigh these options before he could answer. James rubbed his jaw and cursed under his breath.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll let you. At least you’ll keep going long after I would have forced myself to stop.”

She didn’t relish it, but she gave him a thin smile regardless.

“As your mistress I think I should be expected to do a little dirty work for you every now and again.”

“I just want it done with. Bad enough to have to walk off the personal impression yesterday's little episode left behind. I won't top it off by being seen stumbling about in pain.”

He sighed and looked back at her.

“And I worry that if I don't, I’ll drink to stop feeling it. I don't want to cause you any more trouble, and I feel I ought to grow more accustomed to managing pain through force of will than irrigating myself. I'm sure the others would agree.”

He smiled very briefly, and then went back to dressing himself.

“I think it might do me some good to be seen as appropriately chastened, but able enough to manage a bit of pain. I'm sure they'll find the whole affair amusing enough to placate them, anyway.”

Elizabeth interrupted him in his dressing to - gently, on account of the tooth - take him by the chin, lean up, and chastely kiss him.

“As you wish,” she murmured. “Now I’ve got to run. Catch up with me at the canteen?”

Her hand dropped to his forearm, squeezed it, then she headed out, without much further ado.

#pl: h34v3nlie måll #ch: firing squad #ch: her majesty if you're nasty #potcsuggestions #norribeth #jackquest 1748

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margridarnauds · 6 years ago

Note

6, 7, 10, 21, 23

THANKS AVERY

6. Answered here

7. List your NoTPs from each fandom you’ve been in.

Let’s have the SALT. (Mandatory disclaimer that my own personal feelings towards the SHIP does not inherently extend to the shippers, that I ship many dynamics that some people would call “abusive” given the ongoing debate over what “enemies to lovers” means, and that some dynamics here are things that I might have shipped under other circumstances, but things just...didn’t work out that way.)

Cats - I hated Plato/Victoria before I even knew that it was POSSIBLE to hate a ship that much. I always went with the Plato = Macavity theory to get that little skeavy dudebro off my girl. (Also, I’ll be honest, the whole “mating dance” thing is...such a fucking weird sequence anyway. Like, my ship preferences aside, ALW WHY DID YOU HAVE TO HAVE A SCENE WHERE THE CATS FUCK?)

Pirates of the Caribbean - Jack Sparrow/Elizabeth.

Harry Potter - Ron/Hermione. I never saw it, tbh, and they seemed to be pretty bad for one another, even in the books. The films just took it up several notches.

OUAT - Captain motherfucking Swan. I hated that smug, greasy little motherfucker so much. So much.

Star Trek Ds9: Jadzia/Worf. THERE. I SAID IT. Both sides brought out the absolute worst in each other, leading to an absolute trashfire of a ship that obliterated all in its wake. AND THEN WE HAD TO DEAL WITH THE FALLOUT OF THAT. EVEN AFTER THE SHIP WAS *DEAD*. Don’t mind me, don’t mind me. I’m cool, I’m cool.

Carmilla - Tbh...Laferry. Never my thing. I know that her character development’s a BIG part of Perry’s arc and I fully embrace character growth, but it just. Left a bad taste in my mouth. And the way shippers used to treat Laflashdrive shippers back in the day. As if shipping a nonbinary character and a flashdrive somehow makes it hetero. (#LetLafBeaRobotfucker2k19).

Les Miserables - You know what? While I’m on the Salt Train...

Enjolras/Grantaire. Now, there are plenty of ships that are probably more deeply annoying to me, but none are as prevalent as this one. And I might like them a lot more if they WEREN’T so prevalent. But as it is, it’s like a black HOLE that’s devoured the fandom, so that you’d think the entire fucking novel/musical is about these two. And. Maybe I shouldn’t talk given what I ship, but it isn’t even like they’re THEM at this point, they’re just two generic white guys in an “uwu” relationship. And I’m not speaking for EVERY single thing given that I have neither the time, concentration, or will to read every. Single. Thing. Made about these two, but it’s something I’ve noticed, though I’m not saying that I haven’t enjoyed SOME things made about them and the whole “You believe in nothing.” “I believe in you” is...good content.

It’s like...you’re walking in the woods (there’s no one around and your phone is dead) and you see a brightly colored pink tree. At first, it’s great. A pink tree! You’ve never seen one of those before. You wander further into the woods, and there’s another! And another! And soon enough, you’re surrounded by pink trees, in a technicolored horror realm. Where’s the sky? Where did you come in at? You think you remember seeing the sun once, but NO, it’s another fucking pink tree blocking your way. There is no God, there is no ground, there is only a technicolored nightmare blocking your every move, drowning you in visions of Barbie-esque horror.

Terra Nova - Skye/Lucas. WHY GOD WHY? Look, we KNOW I have terrible taste in ships, some of which have...questionable dynamics. BUT EVEN I CAN’T GET INTO THIS ONE. There’s no...mutual spark between the two of them, just Lucas creeping on Skye and Skye trying to get away. Also, since I’m here...Skye is estimate to have been born in ‘32-33, making her approximately 16-17 by the time the plot kicks into gear. Let’s be very generous and bump her into 17-18. Lucas? 2124, making him...oh, 25. Not the WORST age gap I’ve ever seen in my lifetime...but....questionable. Very questionable. And I know the series wants to have us believe that people grow up faster (see: The fact they actually think Maddy’s old enough to GET MARRIED. TO A SOLDIER. WHO IS REALISTICALLY IN DANGER OF MAKING HER A WIDOW,) but NO. Like, at my CURRENT AGE, with less than four years separating me from that age gap, I can’t see it. That is still at least 7 years of experience in the “real world” that she doesn’t have. He still saw someone with THAT MUCH of an age gap with him and WANTED something, whether or not she wanted it or not, and tried to PURSUE that something while calling her “sister”. Like, I can’t stop anyone from shipping it and I have a firm “ship and let ship” mentality, but....EW. EWEWEWEWEWEWEWEWeWEEWEWEW.

B5 - I’m in the same boat as you as far as...on one hand. Byron/Lyta makes me want to vomit, but also...our Teep OC does owe her existence to her weird, hetero white goth uncle.

Star Wars: Han/Leia. Because, as we all know, cornering a woman before you kiss her is the love story of the generation. Han would have been better with Luke and Leia with Holdo.

The Pirate Queen - Tiernan/Gráinne. I. Hate. This. Ship.

His Dark Materials - Torn between Ruta Skadi/Asriel and Lyra/Will. Tbh, leaning towards the latter because while the former is AWFUL and signifies the quite frankly terrible writing decisions that distinguish the second and third books, at least it didn’t involve a badass, feral girl child becoming a dainty, submissive 50s housewife in the body of a 12 year old. “Oh, Will, I’ll do whatever you say, I promise. I won’t use my awesome powers unless you say I can, you’re so fantastic, Will.” Gag me. Also...they’re twelve. This doesn’t HAVE to be an epic, tragic romance, and the fact that their “kiss” (WHAT THE FUCK PULLMAN, WHAT THE FUCK, I’M NOT A PURITAN BUT WHAT THE FUCK) is the key to saving the universe? Really? Basically, they should have been friends.

1789 - Danton/Solène. (I KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT I WOULD SAY, BUT NO. MY HATRED FOR THIS ONE MANAGES TO OUTSHINE IT.) “But Rachel,” you might say, “You’ve been very, very open about preferring anything to Ronan/Olympe” and that’s TRUE. But the Toho version managed to push my hatred of this one with The Scene, AKA “Go back to the kitchen, Solène and let the menfolk take care of this.” The French version didn’t even really have it as A Thing, he was just a customer. And the amount of time Danton spends with Solène is always directly proportional to the amount of spinal surgery she’s going to have. Now, I can’t exactly BLAME the two Japanese productions for doing what they did, because they have to appeal to a Japanese audience in the way they see fit. It’s an ADAPTATION of 1789, not a tour of it. But that doesn’t mean I have to LIKE it. And. Like. You know there’s no way THAT one’s going to end in a way that’s good for Solène. Either (1) he’ll set her aside for his family or (2) If they SOMEHOW stay together...the Reign of Terror’s looming.

Also: Danton/Charlotte. No. No. Just. No. There are so many reasons why. But no.

Ace Attorney - Maya/Nick. WHY SWEET MOTHER OF HETERONORMATIVITY WHY?

10. Is there a fandom you read fic from but don’t write in?

We’ve both discussed a lot about how...DIFFICULT it can be to write fic for something. There are a lot of things I love dearly but just don’t have it in me to write fic for. Ace Attorney is an obvious one, Mozart l’Opera Rock, Elisabeth (though I’m trying to work on that one), Les Miserables, Star Wars, Star Trek, B5....a ton more that I could mention but it would honestly take too much time. Words hard, reading still hard but slightly easier.

21. What was the first fanfic you ever wrote?

The first thing I ever wrote, when I was five years old, was (very heteronormative) fanfiction for The Stinky Cheese Man, where he finds The Stinky Cheese Woman, which now, of course, I recognize as my own attempt to write myself into a narrative from which I’d been excluded. Or something. I think my mom still has it buried someplace, lurking...

Also, @theocraindora at some point managed to get me to write at least one full Carmilla AU during the second season, when we both must have been about 17-18-ish, if my math’s not too dubious, and that was the first thing I ever actually finished for a long time, even though it didn’t ever meet my personal standards for publishing and is likely to stay buried. For awhile, at least.

23. Name a fic you’ve written that you’re especially fond of & explain why you like it.

Since I talked about PLP’s tragic backstory, time for something happier. Paradise Lost, which I’m actually pretty damn happy with because it was my first time working with something that’s not a historical piece, and it was honestly a treat working with Mira’s voice. I think that Mira really “clicked” for me as a character here. Like, “Yes, this is why she’s like this, this makes sense.” There are some times where you can really feel a character’s voice when you’re writing and you can get things out, and this was one of those very rare times for me. Not saying that it’s going to happen NEXT time, but this time, it was rather relaxing.

It was honestly one of the smoother writing experiences I had? Like, it only took me about a day or so, from when we exchanged PMs to publishing it, which is pretty impressive, all things considered. I’m still not tossing out doing anything more with this world in the future, tbh. That and Goosefic were probably two of the easiest to just...get out. (WHICH. 92 HITS. GOOSEFIC HAS 92 HITS. THAT IS INSANE FOR A ONE-SHOT IN A SMALL FANDOM. HOLY SHIT.)

(From your other ask!)

50. How did you get into reading and/or writing fanfiction?

I’ve been WRITING fanfiction since I could hold a pencil and make scribbles. When I was younger, I could write that kind of thing easily, the shame came later.

Finding out that fanfiction EXISTED...was probably when I was about 9-10 and found Balto x Harry Potter crossover fanfiction. Which. In hindsight. Was pretty horrible, but my young self was CAPTIVATED because Balto and Harry Potter? In the same universe? IT WAS LIKE MAGIC.

Astonishingly, I did not read M rated stuff until I was at least 15-16-ish. I kept myself remarkably sheltered and only looked into it when I became curious. And got over my weird hyper-religious phase.

When I was about 12-13, I started to toy with writing myself, writing my own OC crossovers for Phantom Manor (the gother, European version of Haunted Mansion that was my special interest for. Ages). Carmilla when I was 17-18 was one of the first things I wrote a full, complete Thing for, even if I never published anything for it. And from there, I’d try to write things for both The Pirate Queen and Dracula, though both projects proved to be too ambitious and I ended up cutting them off, tragically, but they gave me the confidence I needed to get into 1789, which I DID publish something for finally, on the day I was taking my GRE because. Well. I had something else I feared more than a flame.

51. Rant or Gush about one thing you love or hate in the world of fanfiction! Go!

I don’t know if this is one thing or five separate things in a trenchcoat, but here you go.

I love how we can explore things that could never be explored in canon, for one reason or another; I love that we have an experience that we can filter according to what WE want, including trigger warnings, which is honestly a godsend to me. We talk a lot about the transformative nature of fanfic, and it IS, but also, the level of empowerment that comes with being able to take back a narrative that says “hey, you’re not supposed to be in this narrative” or “You’ll like what we put out and you’ll stick with it” or “Well, if you don’t like it, create your own” and say “Okay, I will.” And, obviously the comments are lovely, having that kind of instant encouragement, and in the small fandoms in particular, it’s VITAL, but I also don’t feel like they’re inherently mandatory or that readers should feel FORCED. But I do love that, no matter what, something you write can connect with someone from the other side of the world. Like, people can argue all they want about fanfic being valid or not, but MOST people who want to be professional writers never get that. And when you stop and think about how we’ve been changing the narrative for as long as we’ve had oral stories, that this is how storytelling was ORIGINALLY done...that’s very humbling.

#janetcarter

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lyricalt · 7 years ago

Text

[ovw] Triple Threat - (1/3)

Rating: T Relationship: Recall Genji/Blackwatch Genji/Young Genji. (mcgenji^3 later) Note: Written for @badlyplanned. Call it Day 7 for McGenji Week: Fanart of Fanart, though I actually didn’t know they had drawn THIS also for Day 7, and I accidentally saw it beforehand. But Al has been wanting McGenji^2 for a while and for some reason I thought they meant McGenji^3?? I am bad at numbers and don’t know what those are.

There’s no plot. Just a lot of Genjis. Thanks.

[Part 1] | [Part 2] | tbc

They say disasters come in threes. There are three of him.

Genji doesn’t know how it happens, but there hadn’t been enough time for reflection once he starts corralling two other—loud, protesting, confused—bodies into his room, locking the door and on the verge of keeping them there until they do something convenient, such as disappear.

No such thing happens. Genji feels as if all of Zenyatta’s teachings has come to a head for this very moment, as if a karmic force of the universe has decided to test him, forcing him confront his past and have some enormous life-changing self-revelation about himself.

But so far the only revelation Genji has is that his past selves are a pain. A huge pain. He has a headache. He doesn’t need any mysterious spiritual force to tell him what he has already known for years.

The youngest of him is by far the most pleasant, in a particular fake and calculating way Genji is very familiar with. For the sake of his sanity, Genji has taken to calling the youngest one Sparrow, an old nickname that sets a sardonic smile to the twenty-five year old Genji’s face and an immediate scowl to Blackwatch—the second Genji in the room, only older by three years and harboring an entire different demeanor.

Genji, by virtue of being the eldest and in the correct timeline, becomes the de-facto host. He had attempted to explain the future to his past selves, but neither of them had seemed interested. Genji isn’t very surprised because: one, he is acutely aware of Sparrow’s cheerily nihilistic outlook on life that had landed him half-murdered in the first place—so why worry, cyborg-san?—and two, Blackwatch’s self-absorbed bearing had been like talking to a silent wall made from sheer resentment and bitterness.

In terms of emotional turmoil and growth, Genji thinks he has done very well for himself, and his other self, and his other-other self. It’s something to be proud of. He keeps trying to keep this in mind, but it becomes very difficult to be proud of anything when Blackwatch suddenly decides to jump on Sparrow, teeth bared and voice shaking with fury.

“You have no fucking idea what’s going to happen,” snarls Blackwatch, finally snapping from Sparrow’s constant caustic remarks and lazy grins. “Stop pretending like you don’t care. Look at us. I know you’re scared.”

“I already see I don’t have much to look forward to,” Sparrow replies, shrugging. His arm moves to his side, as if toying with the idea of drawing his sword. He tips his head, green hair sweeping to the side. “You keep telling me Hanzo is going to kill me. Perhaps I should let him. Maybe then I wouldn’t have to turn into something like y-”

“Shut the fuck-”

With another shouting match set to fire off, Genji bounces to his feet, aiming a kick to Sparrow’s backside and a hard slap to the back of Blackwatch’s helmet. Maybe if he were a better person, someone with more patience and wisdom, Genji would have found another peaceful way to resolve things between the three of them, but Zenyatta’s not here to offer his advice, and Genji likes to imagine a kind of poetic tribute in deviating from Zenyatta’s teachings, just as Zenyatta had found an alternative to Mondatta’s doctrines.

Blackwatch almost rises, but Genji is faster, sweeping his leg under Blackwatch’s feet. For added effect, he does the same to Sparrow, just to wipe the beginnings of that smug smile from his face that Genji knows would only set off Blackwatch again.

Genji makes a silent promise to ask Zenyatta about non-violent conflict mediation next time.

“Ow!”

“Bastard.”

With both his younger selves on the floor, Genji crosses his arms, determined not to raise his voice, but he can’t help sounding exasperated.

“Apologize to each other! Apologize to me. Foreheads to the floor, both of you! This is my timeline and I would appreciate it if you two not ruin it.”

“Oh, if the ojisama commands,” Sparrow mutters, not bowing despite his easily accessible position from the ground.

Genji shuts his eyes and takes a mental count to three. He barely gets to one in his head before Blackwatch tackles him, full body with all his strength to join everyone on the floor in what Genji suspects is the second worst apology of his life, just following Hanzo’s.

Genji hits the ground and hears the sharp hiss of a blade. He has just enough time to think— really?—before he looks past Blackwatch drawing his sword and spies Sparrow making a casual yet sauntering break for the door.

A wave of cold fear hits Genji. He doesn’t want Sparrow out of his room. He is not sure what will happen, but an inexplicable feeling of dread imbues him with the sudden cosmic knowledge that if he lets Sparrow go right this second, he could very well doom the universe and all his timelines.

Sparrow’s hand touches the control panel to the door. Genji’s future flashes before his eyes.

He imagines the new Overwatch base on fire, Sparrow flirting with any number of people as it burns down to cinders, the impending debt of his already meager bank account, Angela’s hair going gray when she sees his horrible Blackwatch-self again, and the probability of Moira sending him persistent emails, attempting to persuade him to sell of one of his past selves for the greater good of science—and Genji thinks he might even consider it, at this point.

There are more terrible things he could think of, but Genji has never been one to stew in anxiety. Less thought, more action—Genji, for want of a better word, blacks out for a millisecond.

It’s probably not the same kind of transcendence Zenyatta goes through, but it’s the most calm he has ever felt, grabbing Blackwatch’s shoulder with one hand and flicking the faceplate off with the other.

Genji jerks Blackwatch forward and crashes their lips together, tongue working to coax Blackwatch’s mouth open, and doesn’t stop.

Because Genji knows every weakness he’s ever had, and he cannot afford to hold on to his pride without exploiting everything he has on himself—that Blackwatch has been touch-starved for years, body-conscious and miserable about everything, and Sparrow, in all his false and empty happiness, only wants to be entertained while counting down his numbered days.

Genji seizes all these sad little facts about himself, pouring everything he has into a wildly desperate and passionate kiss he is sure he has been meaning to save for someone else. He pushes that thought out of the way, clasping both of sides of Blackwatch’s stunned face with his hands.

Blackwatch stares at him, the anger in his eyes replaced for a quick moment of pure shock. His tongue darts out, absently licking the wet corner of his mouth. Genji tips his head, foreheads almost touching, but he brushes his thumbs over Blackwatch’s cheeks in the way he’s grown to like over the past few months. Blackwatch twitches back in his hands, confused, and Genji carefully slides his gaze to Sparrow, giving his youngest self a quick glance before lowering his voice for only Blackwatch to hear.

“If you miss that past body, that old part of you so much,” Genji begins quietly, “Treat him better.”

Sparrow can’t hear him, but he goes still, unused to hearing himself with such a quiet, murmuring tone. His hand wavers over the door, and Genji catches the flash of wariness in Sparrow’s stance, of wanting to run and ignore everything, before Sparrow’s expression morphs into one of blithe carelessness and an empty grin that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Interesting,” Sparrow says, meandering back to join them. He drops to a crouch next to Blackwatch, amused. “Can I try?”

Genji turns to him, giving him a look that says he’ll play the game and flirt back. It’ll make Sparrow feel better, giving the younger man a light peck on the cheek, meant to tease until Sparrow takes the initiative to deepen the kiss as if he’s had any control over the situation to begin with.

He probably would rather assume the worst of Genji, filing their actions as pathetic and sad. It’s a delicate balance between Blackwatch and Sparrow, and Genji feels on edge, caught with the need to lay everything out, all that he’s learned, or letting them go through their lives as is.

Instead, Genji reels Blackwatch in with one arm around the back of his neck, a hand sliding to Blackwatch’s side to stroke his fingers inside the sensitive areas beneath his armor. Blackwatch jumps, eyes narrowing at the invasion of space.

Genji breaks off from Sparrow, angling away so that Sparrow’s mouth trails down his neck.

“Here,” Genji says, taking Blackwatch by the wrist and placing Blackwatch’s hand over his own abdomen, beneath the grooves of his armor. He feels Blackwatch’s fingers curl over the synthetic skin, hesitant but not pulling away. Genji doesn’t smile, only gently says, “You lead me. I will touch wherever you want me to touch.”

Blackwatch looks down at that, eyes focusing on his hand over Genji’s stomach. He frowns, brow furrowing, and glances at Sparrow, unhappiness written across his drawn shoulders.

Sparrow is too busy pressing up against Genji to notice. Genji looks back at Blackwatch with a prickle of sympathy. Blackwatch truly does miss his old body, every working nerve and real patch of unscarred skin.

Genji brings him in, murmuring, “I know, I understand,” into his shoulder and feels Blackwatch’s hand slide from his stomach to Sparrow’s waist, body still more familiar to him than their cybernetic replacements.

Sparrow blinks, surprised to find Blackwatch now interested in him, but doesn’t hide his smug laugh as Blackwatch draws in for a rough, demanding kiss.

“You miss this?” Sparrow asks, stretching against Genji. His loose pants slide down to expose his hip bone and a part of the winding tattoo of his dragon.

Genji admits to himself that he misses his old body too, but saying it aloud to Sparrow would only feed the younger man’s ego and give Blackwatch the wrong impression. He brushes his lips along Blackwatch’s jaw, moving up to that spot behind his ear.

Blackwatch’s breath catches, though Genji can’t tell if it’s his doing or Sparrow being bold enough to explore Blackwatch’s chest with his mouth.

Blackwatch’s hand moves to graze over Genji’s inner thigh, thumb pressing deliberately under the armor and through the wires. Genji shudders, knocking against Sparrow, but he mirrors the same gesture, putting his fingers within Blackwatch’s cybernetics and making Blackwatch let out a gasp in return.

Sparrow’s smirk widens as he catches on.

“So like me to turn this into a game,” he says, watching them with his arms wrapped loosely around Blackwatch’s shoulders.

“If it is a game you’re looking for,” Blackwatch says, voice heating with annoyance.

Genji pushes against them both. He stops Blackwatch with another soft touch at his neck that takes him by surprise, and chastens Sparrow with a wolfish grin that makes it a very attractive challenge.

“Then start playing along.”

[Part 1] | [Part 2] | tbc

#genji shimada #overwatch #Genji experiences a circus of his own devising #fic: triple threat #selfcest

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yuudetama · 7 years ago

Text

Malice // Chapter 1

Romance, thriller, Wonderland!BTS. Pairing: Namjoon x Reader Prologue → Chapter 1 → Chapter 2

The funny thing about dreams, you muse to yourself as you walk down the weatherbeaten cobblestone street, is that they’re positively perplexing to think about. A dream about a cat chasing a sparrow, for instance, may suggest to the dreamer a hunt of some sort, or it may indicate absolutely nothing at all. Why a cat? Why a sparrow? What is it that the cat seeks from the sparrow? A thousand symbols are contained in a single dream, and each one carries with it meanings that overturn the next. Simply speaking, they exist as a paradox- contradicting themselves with this and that and taking as many unexpected turns as a rabbit hole might.

A riddle, you conclude, turning the corner into the town plaza. The clock tower reads quarter to eleven but the plaza is strangely empty, with only the odd villager crossing the square to enter the shops that are scattered along the sides. Yes, that’s a good way of putting it. Dreams are like riddles, never quite appearing as what they actually are, and sometimes the dreamer himself may never find the key to truly solving them.

In the centre of the square a marble fountain sits in all of its grand splendor, bursting with water so fresh that it may as well have been squeezed from the clouds themselves. You, however, ignore it, making a beeline instead for the baker’s cart planted next to the King’s statue. A woman is busily sorting out loaves of rye bread, preparing for the mid-morning rush (although you think that it will be more of a mid-morning trickle, there are hardly any shoppers in sight).

“Anything off the cart for you, dear?” the woman calls out when she sees you approaching. Wiping her hands on the front of her apron, she gestures at the array of baked goods displayed on her stand. Buttermilk scones, milk buns, walnut muffins so fresh that you swear you can see little puffs of steam rising from the tops… The aroma of the sweet bread reaches your nose, causing your stomach to squirm uncomfortably with the telltale signs of hunger. “These just came out of the oven, nice and hot. Or my husband will be here soon with a fresh batch of croissants, if that tickles your fancy instead.”

“No, thank you,” you decline, firmly blocking out the signals your stomach pitifully sends. “I just had a question for you, if you wouldn’t mind. Could you point me in the direction of the royal castle? I seem to have lost my way.”

“The royal castle?” The woman peers at you with undisguised curiosity, but all you offer is a mere nod of the head. “I’m afraid you still have a ways to go, love. It’s about half a day’s travel from here, where the Rose City is, and that’s if you’re going by horseback.”

So a full day or longer by foot, you mentally translate to yourself, and glance up at the clock tower again. The time has barely changed from when you last looked at the round face, but you imagine that the sound of the moving hands is ticking endlessly in the distance, taunting you so eagerly that the ticks and tocks ring heavily in your ears. You’re late, you’re late, you’re very very late! it seems to sing gleefully.

The woman continues. “The quickest way is through the forest, but I wouldn’t advise you to go there alone. You are alone, aren’t you? Best thing to do would be to find somebody who’s willing to guide you through it. It isn’t safe in the woods, not after-” she lowers her voice to a scandalous whisper- “you know.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know,” you say politely, but you suspect you have an inkling as to what she’s referring to. The last town you had come from had been full of whisperings, a wariness that people seemed to carry like a shield. You hadn’t caught the reason for it, but the logical side of your brain figured that it must have been something quite terrible, if it’d caused the villagers to scurry around so like a pack of scared mice.

“You mean you haven’t heard?” she asks with a look of surprise. Straightening her spine, she quickly scans the perimeter of the square, as though afraid of being overheard by unwanted eavesdroppers. “There have been dangerous attacks happening in this land. Murders. The first one was a year ago- a blonde girl, they said, found with nearly all of her head chopped off- but nobody knows who could have done it. And she wasn’t the only one; there were more after her. Last winter it was a boy from the neighbouring village, and two months after that, the Duchess, if you can believe that. It was only after she was killed that the Queen began demanding the head of the one responsible. But how can you demand somebody’s head, I wonder, if you don’t even know who it belongs to?

“It’s been bad for us shopkeepers, as well,” she adds, glancing down at her untouched merchandise with a touch of despair. “Not many people like to go out these days. Nobody wants to be the next one, see? The folks around here have become too afraid to even leave their houses. Of course, it’s terrible what happened to that poor girl and the others, just awful. But until the killings are put to an end we won’t be able to put our minds at rest. That’s why I always tell my daughter never to go out alone if she can help it… Anyway, it’s best to be careful, dear. You don’t want to get yourself tangled up in this horrible business.”

You slowly nod. Deaths, unwarranted murders happening in Wonderland… It’s the last thing you expect to encounter on your journey, but then again, you’ve come to realize that in this land you should never expect nor unexpect anything at all.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like anything?” the woman offers when you thank her for her time. “It’s a long journey through those woods, and you wouldn’t want to get hungry later on…”

Shaking your head, you bid her a good day and turn to leave the square (although not before casting another quick look of longing at the milk bread). As you do you catch a glimpse of something in the corner of your eye- a shadow, quick and fleeting, like the flicker of a cat’s tail. You pause for the briefest of seconds, then continue on your way. It’s nothing, you decide, striding towards the street which you had been directed to. The plaza is empty, save for you and the baker woman, and she hasn’t moved at all from her position behind her heavily laden cart.

Must have been a trick of the light. ------- The sun is still high up in the sky by the time late afternoon rolls around. It beats down on you, blasting its golden heat with a vengeance, but you bear it patiently as you tread steadily through the forest. The folds of your traveller’s cloak swish around your body, enveloping you like a curtain of sweltering sunshine. A hot, hot day, as expected from the unforgiving summer season.

Reaching into your bag, you pull out a water canteen and take a sip of its lukewarm contents. The water sloshes halfheartedly against the tin walls, and when you peer inside you notice that there’s only a little bit left pooling at the bottom. A grimace crosses your lips. You should have replenished your supply back in the town, but it’s too late now. You’ve already come this far, too deep in the forest to turn back.

The trees, they sing to lost travellers: your home, your home, where is your home? Is it here with us, with our leaves that shake and our limbs that groan?

The castle… Was the journey always this far? Which way had the woman pointed you towards, again? Slipping the canteen back into your bag, you turn around on the spot to examine your surroundings. It all looks the same, with identical trees, shrubs, and the occasional mossy boulder planted every which way you look. And yet-

It’s not the same, you realize. Something about the woods here is different. You’re not sure what it is, exactly- the answer evades you like a butterfly fluttering through the gaps of your fingers- but suddenly you feel something terrible twisting in your gut, almost like a warning of some sort. Behind you a breeze begins to stir a pile of withered leaves, and, despite the blistering heat of the sun, you find yourself pulling your cloak closer towards your body.

"Curious," a voice suddenly says above you, "And curiouser."

You jerk your head up towards the source of noise. Nestled in the tree in front of you is a man, clothes as black as the approaching night and hair as light as the breaking of dawn. With his back resting comfortably against the trunk he watches you with an expression of great interest. The corners of his mouth are curled up in a lazy smile, and his eyes gleam with something you can’t identify. Amusement? Or perhaps it’s something more wicked than that? You’re not quite sure.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, until at last you break the silence. “How long have you been up there?” you ask, not bothering to dally with the greetings. You wonder how he managed to climb the tree without you noticing- or had he always been there?- but then you remind yourself that it’s a strange world you’re in, and things are often not what they appear to be.

“Long enough to know that you have no idea where you’re going.” The man’s grin stretches wider across his face. “Tell me, what’s a little bird such as yourself doing alone in the woods? It isn’t safe here; haven’t you heard the news?”

Crossing your arms, you give him another look of appraisal. It seems that he’s a local resident of this land, unlike yourself, or at least has been around long enough to learn about the killings that the baker woman warned you of earlier. “Actually, I think it’s much safer to be alone than it is to talk to strangers,” you answer back. “Especially strangers who appear out of nowhere in trees, of all places.”

“Didn’t you know? There’s no better place to be than in a tree. If you haven’t tried it then I suggest you do so before Time becomes impatient waiting for you. He may start beating himself if you don’t beat him round the clock. But on the other hand, I do believe you have a fair point to your words, so…” Hoisting himself onto his feet, the stranger leaps off the branch and lands neatly on the ground in front of you. You automatically take a step back, but he only chuckles at your wary inhibitions.

“My name is Jimin,” the man says, giving you a grand, low bow. “Otherwise known as the Cheshire Cat. Or is it the other way around, I wonder?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’m not you,” you respond dryly. You choose not to return his introduction with one of your own, and if the curious cat notices your evasiveness he doesn’t comment on it.

He shrugs. “Well, either way, you now know who I am, and that means we’re no longer strangers,” he informs you, and leans against the tree from which he had just jumped out of. “So let me ask again: what are you doing by yourself in these woods?”

“... I’m on my way to see the Red Queen,” you tell him. As eccentric as this man is, you don’t think that he’s a threat. He seems more obnoxious than he does dangerous, and anyway, you get the feeling that he’ll keep persisting with his questions if you don’t answer them.

A gust of wind suddenly bursts through the air, skimming over the grass and causing your cloak to billow around you. It bats at the fabric of your collar, pushing back the cloth to reveal your bare neck. Instinctively you reach up to tug the collar back into place, but it appears that the Chesire has quick eyes in addition to quick feet, for you can see them flashing immediately to where your skin has been exposed.

You drop your hand and pretend as though nothing has happened. “So you know where I’m headed off to, then. What about you, Mr. Cheshire? What are you doing in these woods alone?”

If possible, his grin widens even more. If it grows any larger, you muse, he’ll soon be nothing but a smile floating without a body. “I’ll tell you what I’m not doing; I’m not going to see the Red Queen,” he chuckles. You suppress an inward sigh. People in this land are so strange, you think to yourself ruefully. Their way of talking is too odd and roundabout for you to make sense of it, and it makes it near impossible for you to get a straight answer most of the time. You’d struck gold with the baker woman, apparently. At least talking to her hadn’t been like trying to solve a puzzle.

You turn to leave. “In that case, then there’s no reason for us to continue this conversation. Goodbye, Mr. Jimin Cheshire. I hope you enjoy yourself up in those trees.”

“You’re going the wrong way, little bird,” he calls out after you, laughing once again. “There’s only an abandoned mine shaft over there. If you’d like, I could show you the right path. I know a shortcut, and I can guarantee we’ll be out of these woods before nightfall.”

You eye him. In your experience people rarely did any acts of kindness without wanting something in return, but in the past three minutes that you’ve known him, you can’t for the life of you figure out what this man could possibly want. “We’ve only just met. Why should I trust you to lead me anywhere safely?”

“What other choice do you have?” he counters, still grinning from ear-to-ear. The sight of it is becoming positively irksome, but you have to admit that he does have a point. You have no map, no compass, and, as it seems, no sense of direction. You consider your other options, but, as your new acquaintance has pointed out, they’re severely limited- either you could stay where you are and wait for a new rescuer to appear, somebody whose smile doesn’t stretch across his face like a piece of chewy saltwater taffy, or you could wander aimlessly in what you hope is the right direction and perhaps be mauled to death by a gaggle of wild beasts.

As if reading your mind, the Cheshire Cat pushes himself away from the trunk. “Just letting you know, the shroom-capped wolbers like to hunt at this time of day. And they’re quite good at it, too,” he calls over his shoulder, and slinks off between two enormous oak trees.

You stare at his receding backside. It’s only after he’s vanished completely that you begin to move after him. No map, no compass, nothing to navigate you through the forest. Only an abstruse man who calls himself the Cheshire Cat and offers to act as your impromptu guide. It may not be the smartest of moves, but even if he does lead you to something life-threatening you figure it can’t be worse than having to roam through this overgrown garden by yourself.

And, as you follow the lithe man through the woods, you swear you can hear something rustling in the air around you, quiet and urgent and perhaps a wee bit mournful, as well. It’s almost as though the wind is whispering to you, repeating a single word over and over again in a long, senseless rush of breath.

“Alice.”

#noonanet #bts #bts fanfic #jimin #hoseok #namjoon #yoongi #jungkook #seokjin #taehyung #namjoon x reader #malice series

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toauw · 8 years ago

Text

LEAVE YOUR FRIENDS AT HOME, YOU’LL COME BACK WITH MORE

If you honestly ask me why I specifically went to Los Angeles, CA for my 24th birthday, I’ll give you the straight answer. It was the farthest place in the continental United States that I had any interest in visiting. A friend that worked for an airline told me they had access to discounted flights anywhere in the “lower 48”. With that discount, plus the fact that I had a friend who was willing to accommodate me for a few days, it became the cheapest option for a quick getaway. I didn't decide to go there for a concert, I had no special objectives, it wasn't a business trip, No. It was just far, and cheap.

I booked the flight about two months in advance, and waited patiently for my departure. I was slated to go away from October 4th to the 9th, so I could come back home and get situated for my birthday on Oct 12th. There was nothing spectacular about the dates I chose, I just wanted the end of the week, and the weekend. When it was finally time to leave, I found myself in a financial crunch due to a car accident I was in about three weeks before. My pockets were less healthy than I expected them to be, and when I came back I had a huge financial expense waiting for me. Something to the tune of $1,500. It wasn't looking good for me, but I already made the purchase, and I knew I would regret staying home instead of trying to make the best of what I had.

As I left my house on the morning of the 4th, I thought about the upcoming week and what kind of shenanigans I would get into. After all, did I mention I was pretty much going alone? I had one real friend in LA, and I hadn't seen her in years. In fact, I never spent time with her in real life before she left to hit the west coast. I was technically going to stay with a stranger I barely knew from highschool, that I only corresponded with online. In addition to that she had work on some of the days that I’d be there, and wouldn't be able to spend much time with me either way. I’d be by myself most of the time, and I didn't know how I’d feel about that. We arrived at the airport and I got out of the car, thanking my dad for the ride. I hadn't gone away in a while, and usually when I did, it was with another family member. I had no fear of traveling alone, but it was different. I walked into the airport, and got on the check-in line despite having checked in digitally on my phone. Amatuer move. After that line snaked to the front and I got my boarding passes, I headed over to TSA where there was a line developing, snaking around the corner. I got to the corner, realized that the line was way longer than expected…

...and promptly skipped everyone.

I felt terrible, but the devastation of waiting behind an extra 35 people broke my heart. Someone tried to tell me the line formed back “there” and pointed to the sad waiting souls, but I acted like I didn't hear them and moved on forward. Horrible, I know. I’m typically all about fairness and doing the right thing, but for some reason I didn't care. Feeling the hateful stares of all those fellow travellers on the back of my neck, I followed the course of the line and went through TSA. Delighted that nobody snitched, but still ashamed, I waited until I boarded the plane.

The flights there were uneventful, but easy. I listened to music and continued writing my second novel. 8 hours after taking off, I arrived in LAX at 12PM.

I contacted my friend, who I’ll refer to as Mya, and made my way towards her. She was rather far from where I exited, and I had to do a bit of walking on airport grounds. Off rip, when I exited the terminal, I was immediately alarmed by how much the real thing resembled San Andreas and GTA 5! Although real Los Angeles obviously came first, I was familiar with it entirely from playing Grand Theft Auto as a preteen and young adult. When I finally got to her, we hugged each other for the first time ever, and made a joke about how long it took me to get out. The ride home was even more surreal as I started seeing familiar landmarks and the iconic, beachy palm-tree-lined streets of LA. It was rather nerdy of me, but I felt like I knew where I was, as if it wasn't my first time being there!I had ran those streets for years, and it all matched up in my head. We talked about what kind of things I should do while I was there, and came to the conclusion that she would only be able to spend one or two days hanging out with me. Between work and prior obligations, she would be too busy to show me around. I’d be rolling solo. On the way home we had California’s famous In-N-Out, and that was elite for the price.

Her home, while nice, wasn't in the most accessible place, and it’d be a 40 minute drive to get anywhere particularly interesting. The first day consisted of me catching up on sleep, hanging out at the house, and looking for people to connect with while I was out there. I met her roommate, and we all got pretty well acquainted. We made a store run and prepped for the rest of the week.

I mentioned looking for people to connect with, something that’d be important if I was going to enjoy myself in the slightest. I didn't want to be a plain old tourist for 4 days, that’d be boring as hell. I prepped before I headed out there, and asked my facebook friends if they had any connects for me, and a few of them came through. I had about 2 solid people to meet up with, and I was scoping for more. I immediately remembered that a good friend of mine had recently visited LA and seemed to have a great time. I contacted him, then hit instagram and looked through my feed for any familiar faces that lived in LA. Being that he was a photographer, he would have tagged his models, so I checked his page and lo and behold, there were about 6 people I could reach out to. Yea, it was a little weird, because I was a stranger asking to hang out, only using a small connection through my friend to validate my personality as a whole. They could all potentially look at the messages, and leave me on seen. If that happened, I’d end up a tourist doing tourist crap for the whole weekend, alone at that. Luckily three of them responded, and we talked about meeting up later that week. With three new numbers from instagram, and two friends from facebook to meet, I felt comfortable about not being by myself. Communicating One of the girls and I made plans to meet the next day, and I let Mya know what I had planned to do.

I spent a part of our 45 min trip to West Hollywood talking to Mya about how she should be a more aggressive driver. I kept getting tired of people boxing her out of traffic when she needed to change lanes, and her getting the short end of the stick. She was a competent driver, just not as assertive as her real life personality was. Something I noticed about Los Angeles driving culture that I thought was funny, was how much they respect pedestrians, and generally don't take gaps in traffic to get where they’re going. Funny enough it seemed like everyone picked a lane, and stayed in it. Aside from the obvious speeders, everyone was pretty much cruising. The driving style of those around me felt timid and nervous in comparison to the wild streets of Manhattan.

When we arrived, she parked in a fancy parking lot overlooking a large part of the city. I was impressed by how spread out everything was. It was my first real taste of how large the city really was, something I’d come to learn in the next few days. I walked her to work and parted ways without going in. Standing on Sunset Boulevard, somewhere I was familiar with in theory, I started walking. Amazed at how much it all really looked like GTA again, I quickly decided to search for something to do. Like an idiot I wore jeans, not respecting the LA weather forecast. I was overheating already, and I hadn't been outside for 20 minutes. I walked to some shade, and decided to find somewhere interesting to go. Hollywood Boulevard with all the stars on the floor was 10 minutes away, and I figured that was as good a place as any to start my journey. I called the first of many Ubers, and coordinated my pickup. Within 15 minutes, I was wandering along Hollywood boulevard. This was the first place being by myself really hit me. I saw the street performers acting like famous Hollywood characters. As I walked past Maverick from Top Gun, and Captain Jack Sparrow, I noticed something. Typically, when you’re out with squad you tap your friends and point to that funny thing you see across the street, or maybe you mention a fancy car you think they’d be interested in. There was none of that. Whatever it was that I observed, unless it was worth me stopping to take a picture, only stuck with me. The first thing I noticed about that, is that things weren’t innately funny, but rather interesting. When there’s no one to bounce jokes off of, you tend not to laugh as much. One I realized that, whenever something did make me audibly laugh, I appreciated it that much more. Walking along the boulevard, I stopped to get some cheap alcohol, and put it in a slushie I bought.

I figured it might make everything more enjoyable, and open up my personality. I finished that rather quickly, as I tend to do with all alcohol, and continued about my business. One of the girls that I was in contact with finally got back to me, and we coordinated to hang out. She was at her friend’s house, in Koreatown. I headed over in a lyft line, and waited for her to get back to me. After waiting 10 minutes for her to check her instagram, she finally got back to me and told me the room number to get in. When I made my way upstairs, I entered a typical college roommate scene. In the midst of a studio scattered with clothes, and shoes, were two pretty young women, one with colorful hair and the other with longer straight blonde tresses. They were both very nice, and apologized for the room being in disarray. I reassured them that my room was probably worse, if not just as bad. We’re all young creatives, nothing to be ashamed about. We naturally went into conversation about the differences between LA and NY, and what we thought about both. I hadn’t had much time to really experience the city, but from what I saw it was definitely a major change of pace. Looking at LA’s huge open spaces, visibly rich and wealthy lifestyle, and beachy” always-summer” vibe, as compared to New York’s harsh, condensed, edgy toughness, it was easy to point out the differences. As the conversation continued, I started to see the similarities in us, despite the 2,500 miles that separated our homes. Young black creatives, trying to make their names in cities that didn't yet care about them. Around this time, two more house guests came in, and I introduced myself to them as well. As they got settled in and continued conversation with us, I noticed the level of friendship this group shared. Despite being from different backgrounds and neighborhoods, they seemed like a small family. It was fun to watch the dynamics between them as an outsider, just taking it all in. From jokes about flat butts, to one pointing out how pretty the other was, it was all positive. I may have been tired, and not the most active participant in their conversation, but I genuinely enjoyed my time with them. The group decided listening to music on a phone wasn't enough, and chose to get a bluetooth speaker from a nearby store. We all got up together, and walked a few blocks to the spot where they bought a $25 bluetooth speaker. When we got back, they turned it up and the fun really began. They started drinking, and playing music I’ve never heard before, most likely from underground west coast rappers. Another friend I had been told to contact on instagram came in the room, and we introduced ourselves. One of his first statements when he came in the room was about the new bluetooth speaker, and how “that shit don't slap”. I was weak. It was somewhat refreshing to hear how they supported their local artists, something I think NY struggles with, but that's another topic for another day. As the night continued and the drinks they shared with me started kicking in, and I was getting tired. Somehow I dozed off like the old man I am, and I woke up to see everyone getting settled in. At that moment it dawned on me. Not only were they great friends that hung out together, more than the original two of them lived together. I recognized a familiar situation that I didn't see reflected in their happiness. They weren’t living the LA dream by any means, but they were happy, and they were making it work with that they had at the time. Everyone in that room was a positive, fun, creative soul, working together to keep it together. Based on the brotherhood, sisterhood, scrappiness and happiness I saw in that room, I know all of them will be out of there and on their own feet in no time. I woke up to a phone call from my friend, who said she was outside waiting for me to go home. I said my goodbyes, and told them I’d see them again.

I fell asleep on the drive home, and woke up at the complex, ready start preparing for my next day.

The next morning we decided to get breakfast at a local spot called Beep’s, which I’m only mentioning to say that it was one of the best breakfast deals I’ve ever encountered. Pancakes, French Toast, Sausages, bacon, regular toast, AND Home fries for $8.99. Amazing.

As we ate, Mya told me about her plans to go hiking, something I’d never done before. There was a popular trail that everyone visited, but we decided to go to a farther more peaceful one that apparently ended with a waterfall. We went to pick up her ex boyfriend from the train station downtown, which took long enough, then headed towards the canyon. I knew her ex from the internet, but never met him before then. As we drove up north, we all got acquainted, and familiar. Hiking was rather strenuous, but nothing insane. Along the 3 mile walk through the valleys of Altadena, CA, I recognized how peaceful the effects of nature were, if you weren't scared of the little rustling of small animals in nearby bushes. Once you got over the irrational fear of being attacked by mountain lions and poisonous snakes, you could really settle in, take a deep breath, and appreciate how untouched it all was. Another thing I recognized while I was out there, was how little I was. While I spend hours and hours in Manhattan among buildings hundreds of stories high, it never occurred to me how little I was in the grand scheme of things. There's nothing specifically human sized in the wilderness. It was all very humbling. If I got lost out there, or tripped over a cliff, I was done for. It wasn't made for me, I was merely a visitor. A speck on this vast planet, trying to enjoy it and experience it while I had the time and energy.

I won't say I particularly had fun hiking, but I appreciated it. The views, the discoveries, The challenge, the open space, and the fresh air. It’s something I think everyone should try at least once.

When we got back home, we decided to go out and find a party. Mya and her ex decided on a party, and we got dressed up to go. It was a pajama party but you could show up in anything. I would’ve wore pajamas if I could, but I didn't have any, and I realized that it would limit me if I wanted to go elsewhere. When we got there, I immediately knew I wasn't going to enjoy myself. Everyone there was at least 30, and while I’m not opposed to partying with older people, it wasn't the scene I envisioned. I really just wanted to be around people my age, and do 24 year old stuff. No soul train lines, no line dancing, no cupid shuffle. I’m refused to resign to old age that easily. I will admit I had a noticeable attitude, because I paid $15 to get in anyway, but within 20 minutes of being there, I couldn't take it anymore. I started looking for other parties, and found something free not too far away. I told them I was leaving, and bounced on my own. Another lesson. At the point where I was too annoyed to stay there anymore, I recognized a lesson that I would keep coming across on my adventure. It's one lesson but there are two points.

If you don't like something, only you can change it.

You are in charge of your own happiness.

These two lessons in conjunction helped me form the rest of my experiences while away. One without the other doesn't equate to much, they have to be used together.

When I arrived at the next spot, I went in, only to find a completely different club experience than I had found on the flyer. They were playing a mix of electronic dance music, and pop in a rather small venue. The party I had anticipated was advertising Hip Hop, Dancehall, and other associated genres. I was confused and a little annoyed. I just spend $14 on top of the $15 I spent at the other one, to find out I was at the wrong place. I didn't understand how, because the address was right, and the date was correct. I sat down, and contemplated what I’d do. I went outside, because I didn't know what else to do, and asked someone if anything else was going on tonight. Nobody in the immediate vicinity knew of anything, so I decided to go back inside. While opening the door to go in, about 3 beautiful women I hadn't seen inside the first time came out. They didn't go in behind me, and I didn't see them before. There had to be more to the party somewhere. I went in determined to find what I came for, and found a somewhat hidden hallway in the back of the venue. When I rounded the corner, there it was. Glorious black people, 15 feet down through the hallway, I heard a classic Jay-Z hit, and felt right at home.

I got comfortable and bought a drink which I promptly finished. I think the bartender noticed how fast I finished it, because within two minutes she put up another and said it was on the house! I gave her the last $3 I had in my pocket and thanked her. I walked away smiling and finished that one quickly too. With two drinks in my system, I got into the groove of the party, and started enjoying myself a bit more. Looking around, I saw a lady I was interested in, and gathered the courage to make my move. I can't even say I remember what I said to her, but I quickly found out they weren't the magic words. As soon as the immediate conversation died, her friend came and took her away. I was so happy with myself for even doing that, that it didn't matter what the outcome was. I was cool with the calm L. Getting back to enjoying the party and my environment, I saw that it was slowly dying out, and decided to see how Mya and Ex were doing. They had asked me how my party was, and I explained that it was dying, but I’d look for something else to do. I went outside and asked if anyone knew of any after-parties, because it seemed like all the lowkey spots closed at 2. I approached a mixed group with a black and hispanic girl, and asked if they knew about any house parties that still might be going on. Luckily, one of the girls knew of something, and told me an address, and someone to contact at the house when I got there.

I told Mya to link me and head there, and she did.

When we got there, I was supposed to find Angel, a tall Mexican guy with blonde hair. I figured shouldn't be hard to find, so I walked up and paid my dues. They gave me two drink tickets with my entry, so I was pleased with that. Mya and Ex chose to sit outside in the car until I figured out if it was worth staying, so I was alone again. Once I walked in, there were a couple college girls in weird clothes dancing, and a guy making drinks. Nothing too hot. I immediately went to the guy with the drinks and cashed in my ticket. I was going to get what I paid for, whether I needed it or not. I went to the backyard and saw a warm weather house party type scene. A fire pit, a couple benches, and a canopy with people sitting under it.

I found a seat, and listened to what was going on. One guy with long hair was recounting conspiracy theories, and a girl was braiding his hair as he spoke. It was all very funny to see similar scenes from my NY summer nightlife played out in a completely different setting. Before long I remembered that Mya and her Ex were outside, still waiting on me!

I got up, cashed in my second drink ticket, and left the spot with two cups. I was poured up well, and experienced an LA house party, a check off my list. Mya drove us home, and I caught some alcohol induced Z’s.

Another day down, ready for the next.

One of my new friends invited me to a music festival the day before, and said he would meet me there at 3. I took the ride to the city with Mya around 2. I did the same this as the day before and wandered for a while, taking pictures of things I found cool, before checking the time and heading towards the festival.

I got to the festival, and showed them my confirmation. I entered into a walled complex with graffiti all over, art everywhere, and vendors with tables wherever they could fit. There was a food stand in the back, and carnival style games on the sides. It was truly an amazing environment with the opportunity for fun everywhere.

It was 3, and my connect was nowhere to be found. I figured I would walk around and try to look at the vendors while I waited for him and the squad to arrive. While perusing through their wares, I found this asian guy with a dope clothing line, and decided to buy a shirt. We decided on $15, and I got my only souvenir for the entire trip. After walking around for another 20 minutes, I naturally got bored, and turned to my phone, something I was trying to avoid. Still no word from my friends, and it was 4. I tried to enjoy the acts for a bit, but I wasn't really feeling it that much, so I went to find somewhere to charge my phone. I hadn't plugged it in for most of the day and it was dying.

I found a room with strobe lights near the back of the complex, and sat down next to a power strip. There were 3 or 4 girls sitting around it, and I introduced myself to them, because I was in very close vicinity. There was no way not to say something. They all lived in LA, and one of them was working with an artist there I had never heard of. Sooner or later they left, and I was alone again. It dawned on me that I wasn't actually supposed to be back there, but no one had stopped me. There was a lapse in security, and I was backstage in the green room! Not recognizing anyone on the flyer for the event, I wasn't super hype to be there, but it was kind of cool knowing I wasn't supposed to be there. A few minutes after I realized, a guy in all black started laying out a big banner, and putting brackets up to hang it from. He wasn't struggling, but he was moving a bit slowly, and could use some help. I asked if he wanted assistance, and he happily agreed. I got down and started helping him with zip ties, and best figuring out how to hang the banner most appropriately. A small frantic lady came through, and checked out our work.

She looked at him, then looked at me, and asked me who I was. I told her I was just sitting down and decided to help out, and her face lit up. She shook my hand, and said, “idk who you are but I’m going to take care of you. I’m busy but give me some time. She left with her little entourage, shouting instructions to people, and answering questions. Me and the real worker took about 10 - 15 minutes to do it, and stood it up. It was lopsided, and not centered. Off to the side by around 5 feet, we had to do it again. After taking another 20 minutes cutting it down and doing it again, she came back and told me I would get a backstage pass with VIP access to everything and the option to take as many dabs as I wanted.

I got the VIP pass but didn't put it on my neck. I didn't want any unnecessary questions I couldn't answer coming my way, although looking back at it, that could have helped me socialize.

It was 5 and my friend still wasn't there. Around this time, my lesson from earlier had shown up again. I was there, not really enjoying myself, and only I could change my situation. I didn't even know if they were coming, but I couldn't rely on them to make it fun for myself. I decided to get more proactive, and start speaking to whoever I felt was interesting. Without the help of alcohol, I really had get out of my head, and make the moves on my own. It wasn't easy, and I quickly came to the conclusion that whoever said “Alcohol is liquid courage” wasn't lying. I felt like I could use it, but I was happy with the challenge of having to socialize without it. After speaking to people here and there, I found out I was way more comfortable communicating with strangers than I had ever thought I’d be. At first it was very hard to get over the initial hump of saying Hi, but I got used to it.

As time dragged on, I enjoyed some performances, bounced in and out of the backstage area, and awaited word from my friend. They finally showed up at 8, 5 hours later than I was expecting them. By then I was already over the atmosphere, and I was only there because there still performances left, and they just showed up.

We met up and I chastised them for being so damned late. They stranded me for 5 hours without any friends, which was initially a curse but turned into a little blessing. I discovered that I could spend a significant time alone, something I never really did, and make something of it. I had met a few artists in the most natural way possible, and talked to all the girls I thought were interesting enough to warrant the effort. They showed me, someone who’s always around people I know, that I could spend time by myself, and meet new people without it being a huge ordeal. Before that day, I never really spoke to random people in public without a reason. This time, I noticed that the reason doesn't have to be solid, but literally because I wanted to. Typically I have friends everywhere I go in NY, and not having that put me in somewhat of a compromising position. It pushed me out my comfort zone, and trust me. I’ve been VERY comfortable. What I learned is that the hardest part is starting. Once you get over the initial hump of saying hi, you’re in and you can let whatever social skills you have take over. Talking to people you're interested in dating is more complicated, but once again, that's another topic.

With my friends finally there and the main performers up, I started having fun and enjoying the music. It was really nice, there was a tribute for a local rapper, slain in unnecessary violence, and you could definitely feel the solidarity and respect for him in the room. I didn't live there, but I felt the sense of community.

They decided to leave after a while, but they had nowhere to go and I wanted to charge my phone. I went back to the green room and found a working outlet, next to some more cool people. The more I spoke to people around me, the more I realized that it was only as weird as you made it. With adequate charge, I left and met up with a friend from facebook that told me he was Dj’ing at a downtown bar, playing 00’s R&B and Hip Hop. I hopped in another uber there, and went downstairs in a notably empty upscale place. I greeted my internet friend, and spoke to him for a few minutes before my friend from the last party told me he was coming to meet me.

In the meantime, I continued talking to my DJ friend, and the friends he brought out. Around the time my friend showed up, I started speaking to some lady at the bar, who was clearly older, but had a nice shape. Apparently it was her birthday, and she was out trying to enjoy it. I mentioned that my birthday was next week, and it was all good. We were vibing, talking about something funny, when she asked me how old I was turning. I immediately knew I had to lie and throw my age up a notch, just in case she wasn't down for such a big difference. She was turning 32, and 8 years is a big gap. I knew I couldn't sell that I was 27 regardless of the beard, so I told her 26. Before I could finish saying that and whatever my next joke, she said “It was nice to meet you, goodnight” and walked away. I wasn't funny anymore. No Milf action for me. Luckily my friend was right there and we could laugh about it. We chose to head to another club nearby that he knew was lit, all the time, every Saturday. The club, called the Reserve was probably the nicest nightclub I’d ever been in. I’m not a big spender when it comes to nightlife, so I avoid all the high roller spots in NY. Looking at the people on line, I thought it was going to be crazy expensive, but apparently this spot was only $10. A huge difference compared to the night before where I spent $15 to party with old geezers. I was impressed. Inside, there was a “Vault” that housed the entire party, with gold bricks under glass in the floor, and decor to match the theme all over. It was live in there.

A large variety of beautiful women, people dancing, drinks flowing, and the music was right. My friends were also impressed, but before long I could tell that it wasn't really their scene. They, much like myself, were more the house party and get-together kind of guys. Loud music with no interpersonal interaction wasn't their thing. It also didn't help that one had a girlfriend. I bought one drink, then found out there was a two drink card limit. I was there to stay. I downed my drink in like 3 minutes, and got into the swing of things. I got my second drink, and loosened up some more. For a while they tried to keep up, but me having two drinks to their none, plus the fact they didn't even really care to be there, added up to me being the only one trying to enjoy myself. They decided to leave, and once again, I was alone. Looking at the time, it had just hit 1:15, and the club closed at 2. The two lessons came right back into my face, and hit me. I was in charge of my own fun, and if I didn't do anything, I wasn't going to have any. I needed to get a move on quick. I scoped the joint for interesting groups, and saw two ladies sitting down next to each other, and casually introduced myself. Long story short, I ended up at dinner with four 30 year olds from South Carolina, where the cheapest entree on the menu was about $30. I sure as hell didn't want to spend that much on dinner, but I did owe myself a fancy meal, so I sprung for the cheapest thing I’d eat. After a long conversation over food in which I was reminded that my expletive peppered vernacular was not the norm, we parted ways, exchanged some information and headed home. It wasn't my idea of the most fun I could have, but it was an experience nonetheless. On my long trip home in the Uber, I realized that as much as I was attracted to two of the ladies at the table, I wasn't upset that it didn't turn into anything I’d run home to tell my boys. I was just pleased with the possibilities that arose once I stopped over-thinking about what I was doing, and started doing. Some of the greatest things you’ll ever experience, are hiding behind that moment of hesitation that leads to inaction.

Now that I’ve recognized this, I’m much more willing to take immediate action when I see what I want. Whether that's talking to women in a club, speaking to someone important about an opportunity, or even just making decisions that I’d normally spend way too long on, I see that merely thinking about doing something does not get you anything. This doesn't mean I’m insanely impulsive, but I’m less inhibited by the fear of not getting the results I want. The last thing I wanted from my trip to Los Angeles was to come home wishing I did more.

Another day down, I prepared for my last full day in Los Angeles.

When I got up Mya was getting ready to leave for work, way earlier than I knew I’d ever be ready. I was on my own. I hung around the house for a while, deliberating whether I should go to the observatory, or head out to the Santa Monica Pier. I met a lady in an Uber the day before and asked if she wanted to come to the beach with me, but she claimed she didn't feel good, and wasn't going to be able to make it. It was fine by me, at first I felt weird about doing everything by myself, but I realized I had been alone for most of my journey. I decided to go to the beach because it was cheaper to get to, and there would definitely be much more to do. I got dressed and called my cab to take on a day at the beach. When I got there, I immediately hopped out and made my way straight to the pier. Another thing I noticed about moving on your own, is that there are no delays in action. No drawn out decisions trying to figure out if you want to go right or left, eat at a place or not, it's whatever you decide, and it all happens at your own pace. I walked through a group of relatively young black men, who were still older than myself, and they tried to press me. I ignored them, kept it pushing, and shook my head at the fact that it happened. Disappointed that some things never seem to change wherever you are, I moved forward towards the beach. As I walked through the pier, the countless meetups and shootouts I had engaged in at that very location flashed back to my memory, all courtesy of the Grand Theft Auto series. In reality, it was a beautiful place that deserved none of that extreme violence, and I couldn't be more pleased that I was there taking it all in. I couldn't see an angry soul, and there was a general happiness to be out in the sun by the ocean. I soaked it all in, and continued walking. I went far enough onto the pier to get a quality picture, and headed back to see what else there was to do.

I heard Venice beach was not too far away, and considered heading over there to see what it was like. It was a mile or two down the coast, and I didn't feel like walking there. I checked out the first bike rental company, and they said they closed at 5:30. It was already 5. He suggested another spot a small distance away, and I set off determined to ride down the beach. I rented a bike and headed towards Venice Beach. Considering I hadn't ridden a bike in over 2 years, I was shaky to begin, but quickly locked in my balance. Cruising down the beach on the bike path was amazing. Barely avoiding a couple accidents on the relatively narrow path, I finally made it to Venice beach. You could clearly see the difference in atmosphere, from Santa Monica, to Venice Beach. Venice was way more local, and where you saw classy tourist traps on and near the Santa Monica Pier, you saw colorful homes and quiet alleyways dedicated to parking. There was a community out there, and it showed in how everyone interacted. The skateboarders and bikers congratulated each other over landed tricks and the older rollerskaters did spins as they danced to the tune of 80’s classics, while laughter and shouts of approval filled the air. I love New York City with all my heart, but that right there was something you’d be hard pressed to find in the 5 boroughs. Venice beach was probably my favorite part of my vacation. I can almost say that I’m happy to have gone alone, because it left me no choice but to be present in the moment. I wasn't explicitly having fun, but I was legitimately happy. For a long time, I’d have a hard time distinguishing the two, but I’m glad that I’ve arrived at that conclusion.

I searched up a nearby taco spot, because that's what I was feeling, and went. It took a few minutes, and I scarfed them down as if I hadn't eaten all year.

Luckily after I finished, my white shirt was still icy. Not a stain in sight. I looked at the time, and realized I had to make it back to the rental spot by 6:30. I lost track of how long it took to get there, and figured it’d be best if I rushed back, and rushed I did. Two minutes into riding, I recognized how much nicer it’d be if I put the GTA San Andreas soundtrack on, and did just that. The spotify playlist provided me the classic tunes that filtered through my ears years ago as I spent countless hours exploring the digital world of California. First I listened to “Welcome to the Jungle”, then “Some Kind of Wonderful”, and a few other classic tracks. My favorite song from the game, “Freebird by Lynyrd Skynyrd” came on without my input, and I enjoyed every single second of the 10 minute song.

Riding along the beach to those songs while the sun set in the background was by far my favorite memory from the trip.

I returned the bike pleased with my experience, and headed to find somewhere I could charge my phone. I asked a guy for directions to the nearest starbucks, and moved. I found an Apple store along the way, and settled there instead. Classic Soho shenanigans. I waited there on facetime with a fellow writer until it was time to head out to the TrapXart event that night, where I’d be meeting a friend.

The strip mall reminded me of a local street mall in downtown Brooklyn, but there were no vehicles allowed. It was all oddly reminiscent of those places that everyone goes when the cruises let out on Caribbean Islands. Street performers, Live music, bars, and plenty of stores.

Eventually I left and made my way to TrapXart, where I found a line of attractive young black people and joined it. Inside, I was immediately overwhelmed. There was sex themed art everywhere, and the venue itself was amazing. In addition to that, there was a HUGE selection attractive people inside that building. Everyone in there was well put together, the best of Los Angeles showed their face. I messaged an exhibitor I knew from Facebook and quickly found her upstairs. She was exhibiting so I felt weird about hovering with her for too long, considering she had a whole job to do.

I didn't want to be annoying, so after a few short minutes of conversation, I parted ways, promising I’d circle back around later. I’d be there for a few hours, so I needed to find something to do. I went and got a drink to start my social side, because I really didn't have it completely under control yet, and got to work. Before long I was using my instagram story as a crutch to meet any and everyone I was interested in. In all honesty it was too easy. As long as I didn't say something stupid in my intro, they’d definitely talk to me and engage in conversation. It didn't matter who it was, artists, exhibitors, models, or the general audience, I spoke to them all while observing the overtly sexual art around me. I met up with another woman I knew from Facebook and her cousin, and we all clicked rather well. We walked around, split up, reconvened, and stopped to talk about how ironic it was to meet someone who lived in New York, while on vacation in California.

They pretty much got bored of the event, and I realized that although I showed up solo, I was having more fun than they were. No it wasn't gut wrenching laughter, but I wouldn't have minded continuing what I was doing, circulating and speaking to the random people I encountered. Once again, I learned that I could make my own fun, by simply deciding to take action towards the things I wanted to do. I didn't have to settle with a boring experience because the situation wasn't ideal, I had full freedom to make as much out of it as I could, within reasonable limits. It might seem like a minor realization, but I learned something important that I plan to take with me wherever I go. New York, Los Angeles, Ghana, Cambodia, it didn't matter. I could keep myself entertained and engaged in any setting I wanted to, as long as I was willing to step out of my comfort zone. I was enough for me. In New York I had only ever gone out by myself once, and that was one of the most eventful nights of the summer. For a long time I feared being alone, not in an existential sense, but in the sense that I felt company was necessary to enjoy myself or have any fun. Every interesting thing I had done that entire time, was a result of me pushing myself to get what I wanted, even if it was a little awkward at first. Most times I didn't get what I wanted, other times I got some of it, and some times I got something completely different than what I expected to get. The whole trip pushed me to do things I had normally thought were weird. I didn't even intend for it to teach me as much as it did.

One thing you’ve probably noticed this whole time is that I didn't do anything spectacular. I didn't end up in any wild cocaine-fueled threesomes, didn't wake up on top of a casino, didn't get into any cop chases or turf battles, and I didn't even get to smoke because I just didn't find the right setting for it. It was all in all, a pretty regular vacation. Anyone could do the things I did, and as a matter of fact, I think everyone should. I know if I went with my boys, things would have been drastically different and way more fun, but I wouldn't have learned what I learned or experienced any of the odd situations that made me grow as a human being. Even though it wasn't the exact type of fun I had hoped for, it all ended up being valuable to me for entirely different reasons. With that being said, I encourage everyone to take a trip alone. Pick a reasonably safe place you're interested in, or in my case a place you can afford, set your money aside, and go. Maybe set it up so you can meet a friend or two while you're away, but don't make them the focus of your trip. Don't bring your entire entourage, don't go and stay with family that will expect you to stay by their side the whole time, and don't go with extremely high expectations of what will happen.

<strong> Just go spend some time by yourself in a strange land.

I’m sure you’ll learn something. </STRONG>

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