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tricktster · 1 year ago

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how long have you been getting burritoed... i love the thought of you guys being together for five years and you still fall for it every time

Slightly NSFW warning but the full backstory for the burritoing is honestly very sweet and i can take absolutely no credit for it being so.

so it has not been five years, it’s only been five months, but given that my tolerance for being in relationships can usually be measured in weeks, five months with me harboring every single desire to keep this going is saying something. but rest assured the burrito thing has always been a threat in this relationship. lemme explain.

see, i met my boyfriend the most romantic way a person can, in that i hopped on tinder one friday when I was bored and he was the most interesting person that night to ask me to grab a drink with him the following week. I agreed, with every expectation that this was going to be a one night stand situation. This was because I had already concluded I would probably sleep with him since he was hot and funny over tinder/text but also, more importantly, because I had decided to plunge back into the dating world after several years of being resolutely single by having what my roommate described as “a wanton winter,” which is a nicer way of saying that I was here to sleep around without any strings remotely attached. I had every intention of this being followed by a slutty spring, sexually-available summer, and perhaps even a fuckboi fall.

All this to say, I was not looking for an actual relationship when I agreed to “grab a drink” with the man who is now my boyfriend. In fact, even though he was categorically hunky all-round? I was by this point in my wanton winter not even optimistically hoping for a good time. I had recently re-discovered that hunky meant absolutely nothing, and was still haunted by memories of sleeping with an extremely attractive massage therapist who was not only terrible in bed but also read me a very bad poem that he’d written afterwards and started crying about the state of his life at one point and also his mom called like 11 times while he was over. Like, my expectations were subterranean.

Now given this background, i presumed that this guy would follow the established pattern set by every other guy i’d hooked up with during wanton winter; we’d go back to my place, fool around, he’d leave, and i’d get occasional “u up” texts from him for the next few weeks until one of us ghosted etc. so like it was a surprise - but certainly not an unpleasant one! - when he asked (a little nervously) post-hookup if he could stay the night. he didn’t want to impose, he explained, but he had a day shift the next morning and it was really late and his house was 24 minutes away and while he didn’t want to be presumptuous he’d thrown what he needed in a backpack just in case and also he wanted to cuddle and be big spoon.

well. this was a deviation. this possibly suggested more interest than just a one night stand.

ideologically i was opposed to the threat this posed to my no commitments wanton winter lifestyle but given that he was significantly cuter and funnier in person than he’d been online and also that he had just absolutely rocked my entire world for several hours(!!!) i was just like “yeah homie you are more than welcome to stay,” and decided against issuing my standard warning whenever anyone proposes sharing a bed with me that “I do not tolerate people attempting to cuddle me in my sleep well so don’t be hurt when you find me as far from you as physically possible tomorrow, and also you may be kicked in the process of me rolling away, and my toenails are inexplicably sharp so you may bleed.”

and then, you know, suddenly the alarm was going off, and he was extracting himself, unwounded, from the big spoon position that I had not felt the unconscious need to escape from all night, and I was just internally like “haha! i might be in trouble!”

that mighta done it on its own, honestly, the whole bit about him being the sole exception i have ever encountered to my instinctual need for space when i’m sleeping. but he was not done. he quietly got ready while i was mulling this development over in a state of half consciousness, and then? instead of slinking out into the barely-morning, that motherfucker very gently rearranged the bedclothes to actually cover me, gave me a kiss, said he’d text me when he got to work, and then the bastard tucked me in.

he then left me, the victim of the cutest goddamn nonsense that has ever happened after a tinder hookup, to process this unexpected turn of events.

I concluded that I was, in fact, in trouble.

so like… needless to say, that act of tucking me in was the death knell for my wanton winter, as well as my adversarial relationship with the concept of developing feelings. I am an extremely crotchety housecat that doesn’t like to be crowded who has unprecedentedly fallen incredibly hard for a wildly enthusiastic golden retriever, and our relationship is foundationally based upon this man’s desire to make me all snug and cozy before he leaves.

the burrito aspect was merely an afterthought. it’s all about the tuck-in babey.

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sunsbleeding · 16 days ago

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“I think I’ll just stay with her till I get my birthday presents”, she laughs, sounding more pig than human. I nod along as she continues, “she such a freak she just stares at the wall all day”, I bite my tongue, because saying the wrong thing would get her all despondent and quiet. Agree or be ignored, just like the shadow of my mother and her silent treatments.

But the thing is I used to just stare at the wall all day too, for whole weeks actually. I’d be so depressed that the heaviness in my stomach would anchor me to my bedspread; nothing to do but watch the sun change shape over the walls as it sank. I did this in high school a few months before the hazy night my life was supposed to end. The EMTs refused to let me choose though. Stuffed my soul back in my body and wiped vomit off my face and chest with those cheap paper towels you usually only find in gas station bathrooms.

When we talked ill of her girlfriend I should have said “well you’re using her, you’re manipulating her, you don’t respect her boundaries, you date a wizard created by a terf in your head, and to top it all off you’re in love with a man that lives in LA, for God sakes you write poetry about him for her to see (and laugh when it’s the only poem she doesn’t heart), you make out with me and tell me not to tell her, you can keep her on a leash if she doesn’t know you lie”

So you go, scurry on putrid rat and tell MY stories to your “friends” but boy do I have tales to tell about you, and none of them are even remotely funny or interesting or complex, because you are not any of those things. The stories are just snippets of a girl who was and always will be a boring beige wall of a person, spineless, dreamless, talentless and going nowhere bright. Couldn’t even sign up for university classes properly my ass, you’re just too lazy with a lack of comprehension or a knack for learning about anything that matters. I went through all of university without the money for therapy, without meds for my anxiety or depression, or a diagnosis for my ADHD. You have all the help in the world afforded to you and you still choose to do nothing with your life. Pathetic. You wouldn’t have enough time to read fan fiction anyways so it’s better you just study that, since it’s the only thing you’re remotely good at.

You tell them about your addict, child molested, depressed ex-best friend, who’s seen the world, experienced so much life, built a dream into something tangible, made money you took full advantage of, finished university (it’s not for everyone and that’s okay but let’s be honest you’d rather read smut some horny weirdo on the internet made up than learn about anything real, meaningful or socially relevant).

This all has taught me that I have real friends and supporters in my circle, I have people that’ll sit with me in the bathroom while I’m having a panic attacks. Celebrate being even five days clean. Ask me if I’m okay if I look spaced out (dissociating is something I deal with).

Because of this I remembered I have passions, and taste, and empathy (the word you skipped when you were reading the dictionary). I’ll tell them about you, a waste of space nobody who feeds off the energies of the pretty or cool or interesting girls around her because she hasn’t got a thing going for herself. I have pity for the things you went through but you can only use your trauma as an excuse to be a bad person for so long…. You are a mooch, a liar, a dull woman with the media literacy of an incel and the brainpower of a rock. (Maybe you did do too many whippets in LA smh)

Having a best friend is awesome, having any type of relationship with a delusional psycho narcissist is something I’m done with.

#I guess I’m not quite done being mad #text #journal #narcissistic personality disorder #is what she has #not a people pleaser…..

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nonsensicalramblings79 · 1 year ago

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The Rime of the Ancient Mariner and parallels in OFMD

2.7k word meta

If you haven’t read my other post about why I’m talking about albatrosses in the first place, read the first part of this and come back! All of this will make the most sense if you read all of the parts I’ve written – I’ve split them up for ease of reading, because holy shit this is long.

TWs: animal death, blood, eating animals, starvation, emotional abuse, physical abuse, gunshot injuries, suicidal ideation, canon-typical mental health problems

MAJOR OFMD SPOILERS THROUGH S2E03

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Let me start out by saying that yes, this is anachronistic – this poem wasn’t written until 1798. I also don’t care: Oluwande is wearing crocs, Stede’s “corpse” is crushed by a piano whose maker won’t exist until 1863, Blackbeard’s got his whole leather-daddy getup, Zheng Yi Sao won’t be born until 1775 – OFMD plays fast and loose with historical accuracy, and I am never going to dismiss an OFMD theory because the timeline doesn’t match up :P

Now that that’s out of the way, a little bit of background information. Long summary incoming.

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner is a poem written by English poet Samuel Coleridge. The story is told through the words of the mariner, who has recently survived some horrifying ordeals, soon to be told to a poor unsuspecting stranger who just wants to attend a wedding. As the story goes, the mariner set out with his crew of 200-some-odd men, and everything’s going just peachy until some storms pick up and drive them toward the South Pole. Stranded and lost, the crew fear for their lives, until an albatross appears. At the same time that the albatross appears, the storms clear, the helmsman is able to make their way through the ice of the South Pole, and a southern wind picks up, pushing them back north. The albatross follows the ship, but the mariner believes that it is somehow responsible for the mists and fog that now surround the ship, so he shoots the bird with his crossbow. At that point, the fog and mists actually do clear up (by coincidence or otherwise) – and the crew praise the captain for taking down the bird.

But it’s a fickle crowd – soon the wind stops blowing, and the ship is becalmed; the crew blame the Mariner for killing the bird that had been their good luck. They sit in the middle of the ocean for days or weeks, dying of thirst. They cannot even speak, they’re so thirsty – but they make sure that the Mariner knows that he is to blame for this by tying the albatross’s body around his neck and forcing him to wear it like a grotesque necklace. Eventually, everyone on the ship except the Mariner dies (there’s a bit here about Death and Life-in-Death rolling dice to see who lives and who dies – the important part is that none of the crew survives).

Finally, the Mariner is left alone on his ship of corpses, which strangely do not smell or rot. He wishes he could die, but he doesn’t. During this time, he begins to appreciate what there is left to appreciate – the life around him in the ocean, in the air, “all things both great and small” – and the curse is lifted from him. The albatross detaches from around his neck and sinks into the ocean.

From this point on, the story goes about as you’d expect – the curse being lifted, the wind picks up again, setting the Mariner speeding back home (though, perhaps unexpectedly, his crew gets to come back as zombies for a short while to man the ship until it reaches land again, at which point they die again. RIP). As the ship is coming upon the Mariner’s homeland, it sinks like a rock to the bottom of the ocean – a hermit happens to see the Mariner floating out there and comes to pick him up, thinking he’s dead. When the Mariner opens his eyes, the hermit believes him to be the Devil himself (I mention this only because I think the wording of “Demon? I’m the fuckin’ Devil” lines up perfectly with this).

As penance for shooting the albatross (as if all of this so far wasn’t enough), the Mariner spends the rest of his days wandering the earth, telling his story and making random wedding-goers sad.

HOO BOY, that was a lot. (A whopper, one might say.) Thanks for sticking with me so far.

Now, some of the parallels between this poem and the events of OFMD are more neat and tidy than others are. The biggest parallel, obviously, is the link between the albatross and the “impossible birds” that Ed references in S2E01 – the entire reason I started reading this poem to begin with. The links between the show and the poem are not ones that I think the characters in the show (Ed) are consciously making. I think these allusions more reflect the themes and symbols that the writers and directors want us as the audience to pick up on. Therefore, the “impossible birds” conversation in canon is not talking about albatrosses in the sense that they are commonly referenced in literature, as the proverbial weight around one’s neck that represents guilt – but we can still talk about that symbolism outside of canon.

And talk about it I will.

For those of us who have watched the show, it probably goes without saying that Ed’s got a fair amount of guilt, shame, psychological trauma, etc. that he carries around with him. So if we’re going to invoke the albatross metaphor following S2E3, what specifically can we say is Ed’s “albatross?” There are a few candidates that immediately come to mind. It could be his guilt surrounding a) his father’s murder; b) Lucius’s attempted murder; c) the abusive, toxic relationship that he carried on with Izzy; or maybe even d) himself.

That last one is a little esoteric, so let me explain. Ed hates himself – aside from all the self-destructive tendencies as evidence, he admits it out loud in his dream with Hornigold in S2E03. I wonder if the albatross that is hanging around Blackbeard’s neck is Edward – the real Edward, the one that is more than just his fame, his terrifying persona, his violence-as-a-form-of-love tendencies – the Edward that Stede fell in love with. I wonder whether Ed’s guilt surrounds more than just how he’s hurt others, but how he feels he has killed a truer, better version of himself, and that he can never regain it. In line with The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, killing this “albatross” of a better Edward didn’t just kill him – it killed everyone around him as well. And now, after he has borne the blame of others for having gotten them into this situation, he is forced to wear…himself. The guilt that weighs him down is the knowledge that there is a version of him that was loved, that Stede loved, and in his eyes, he has killed that version of himself.

I want to take a moment to acknowledge a post (or several posts) that I saw several months back in relation to season 1. In these posts [Link1, Link2], smarter people than me drew a connection between a metaphorical albatross and the black cravat that Stede gives to Ed – and that Ed continues to wear until he and Stede change into their privateering academy garb. Something both of those posts touch on is how the cravat represents Stede, and I think that is completely true; however, I posit that the cravat represents the fact that Ed is lovable.

Something that’s been pointed out in the past 48 hours since these episodes dropped is that Ed is not wearing the cravat during the first parts of season 2. Only when he essentially decides to kill himself via storm do we see him once again wearing the cravat (the cravat is also noticeably absent from the purgatory dream sequence).

What exactly this means is still shaky to me – in my mind, Ed does canonically see the cravat as a reminder of his “real” self, and he puts it away and tries to hide it while he’s still…well, functioning is far too strong of a word, but at least not actively suicidal like we see at the end of episode 2. I think hearing Izzy supposedly shoot himself is what pushes Ed over the edge into being actively suicidal; perhaps at this point, some part of Ed is still hoping against hope that he can convince himself not to do it, to wait for Stede. Alternatively, it may be that if he dies here, he wants to take the idea of a “better him” with him.

In the sense of the cravat representing the albatross (meaning the cravat presence is not a choice of the characters, but of costume design), the cravat being missing during the batshit-insane-high-on-rhino-horn Kraken era may represent him not actually feeling the guilt of losing himself during this time. He may have actually convinced himself that a lovable version of himself never existed, and he’s living guilt-free. The guilt comes back when he hears Izzy shoot himself – he’s reminded that he caused this by killing a version of himself that Izzy trusted and even loved, in his own fucked-up way. From then on, the cravat is back on – the guilt is back, and it’s strong enough to induce the kamikaze-type rage we see in the storm.

(Important to note here that while I stand by this interpretation, I’m not sure how it fits with the fact that Ed is wearing the cravat just after the Krakening – the moment when he’s looking back on the island that he just abandoned the Revenge crew on in S1E10.)

I’m leaving this one for myself to come back to later on the off-chance I have some sort of epiphany.

Oh wow, you’re still here?? Probably time for a water break. Go on, the rest will be here when you get back. And there’s unfortunately quite a lot more that still needs to move from my brain to this Word doc.

Ready? Ok.

So that’s one possible interpretation of what Ed’s “albatross” is – I won’t spend time on other possibilities because what I’ve laid out here is the interpretation that I most strongly subscribe to. But all that is only really addressing one part of The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. Granted, it’s the most important part, symbolically, but there are some other parallels that I want to address that together convince me that the writers of OFMD are actually, specifically referencing this poem.

Obviously, there’s a parallel in that both the happenings of the poem and OFMD occur on actual, physical ships, captained by the man who ends up “shooting the albatross” and being rightfully blamed for it. Both of these ships suffer because of the dead albatross – physically, both ships are taken through devastating storms, and both ships are falling apart. The ship in the poem stops moving indefinitely because of a becalming (all wind and ocean currents stopped); the Revenge stops moving indefinitely because Ed removes the wheel. Both ships suffer casualties – in the poem, everyone dies, and on the Revenge, those crew members may be physically alive, but they are haunted by it. The poem makes note of the fact that the crew died of thirst – while this doesn’t seem to be a main concern on the Revenge, the show does show us, rather graphically, that they were beginning to starve, having to catch and eat raw seagulls to survive (note that dead birds are also a recurring theme in OFMD, leading me to believe even more that albatross references are intentional).

There’s an interesting pattern in the poem concerning dead people – specifically, how they don’t seem to be entirely dead at first. Firstly, the crew that die of thirst drop dead, one by one, on the deck of the Mariner’s ship. However, the poet notes that the bodies did not decompose or smell. Later, these bodies are resurrected by whatever sea spirit chooses to spare the Mariner’s life, using the bodies to man the ship and sail it back to shore. When they are done with this, they drop dead once more, staying on the ship as it sinks to the bottom of the ocean. When the hermit finds the Mariner floating in the ocean, he thinks him dead, before the Mariner’s eyes shoot open (similar to a certain someone at the end of S2E03).

In season 1, I can’t think of any instances wherein someone was presumed to be dead, but actually wasn’t, aside from Stede’s fuckery. However, this theme has come up at least 3 times in season 2 so far: Lucius being the obvious one, then Izzy, and finally Ed himself (and if I’m understanding correctly, Ed was actually, literally, cold-in-the-ground physically dead, not just “presumed dead.” This might be clarified in a future episode). That seems…intentional.

Side note: how long was Ed supposed to have been dead? Days? Didn’t anyone notice that he wasn’t, like, rotting? Especially when “the smell of rot” has been something that very consistently shows up in the show when it’s relevant (see: Lucius’s finger infection, Ed being able to smell Izzy through the walls of the ship).

One more thing: the last thing that the Mariner sees when leaving the shore, and the first thing he sees when he gets back? A lighthouse. Now, could that just be a coincidence, with lighthouses being a very common image in sea-based stories? Sure. But I’m choosing to believe that this poem was chosen (and yes, I say chosen – as in the writers took inspiration from this poem) specifically because it has so much imagery in common with OFMD.

These are admittedly tenuous links between the poem and the show, but they are links, so I’m including them.

The last thing I want to mention about this poem is how its “moral,” if it can be said to have one, is to treat living things with respect – you as a person do not live in a vacuum, and your actions have consequences for others, not just yourself. And I think this sentiment lines up incredibly well with a line that Jim has in S2E02:

…

There was a time when life meant something on this ship. When we lived for each other.

…

According to Jim (and according to literally everything the show has been telling us), the ship was a safe place when the people onboard cared about each other. Fang mentions that Blackbeard didn’t even react when Ivan died; Blackbeard callously shoots his first mate, with the intent of having him killed; he doesn’t even care about his own life and whether he lives or dies. Just like in the poem, this is the issue that needs to be resolved in order for the curse to be lifted – the Mariner (Ed) needs to rekindle an appreciation for life. In the poem, this is a simple “every living thing is special” kind of epiphany – I get the feeling it’s going to be a much more complicated journey in OFMD, especially since the show as a whole is somewhat irreverent concerning the deaths of non-recurring characters. For Ed, I imagine it’s going to be more of an appreciation for his own life – not the value of life on the whole, but the value that his life holds.

So. That’s a lot of words that I just typed – I’m hoping at least some of them made sense. Huge thank you to anyone who made it this far! This is all I’ve got on this particular poem, but I’ve still got more things I want to say about another poem called L’albatros (Charles Baudelaire) and how it relates to Ed and his perception of himself. It’s a huge stretch to say that this poem exists in-universe and Ed has read it, but it makes sense to me and I want to get my thoughts down on (virtual) paper – I’ll link to it in the original introductory post (link to that at the top of this post!).

Let me know what you think!! This silly, stupid pirate show will be consuming my thoughts for at least the next several months, and I’m dying for some reciprocal opinion/info-dumping. Inbox is open!

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brynnterpretations · 4 months ago

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Helloo! Thank you for writing all these, I see you’re taking The Boys ship requests so I’d like to request one with my oc if you’re up to it? Sorry if you got this ask before I don’t think it sent.

His name is Barry Bixio, bisexual, cis male, 5ft6, 30, his alias to The Boys is Guy. Hes a supe who has the power to have and not have a corporeal body at will, but when hes disappeared, he can still talk, touch and make things move, he usually still ‘wears’ clothes like a controlling a puppet. He’s usually dressed business casual with a teardrop fedora, jacket, gloves and such. His human form has brown hair, tan skin, and a baby face. He ages slower due to his power usage, so he’s physically about 20 (my faceclaim for him is ralph macchio in naked in New York). He’s got a heavy Boston accent as well. Barry’s personality is pretty irritating, he’s cautious of being close to anyone but he’s a prankster, loves to joke, and his sense of humor is offensive. He’s says he’s not a bigot, but he really doesn’t like superheroes and seems to be a bit of a misogynist. He’s either casual or making light of everything, he’s rarely serious, but when he gets angry he can’t handle it and will lash out by getting too personal with his insults. He doesn’t care about what he says, he’s never had a real friend before so he’s new to the whole ‘making friends and keeping them’. He has big trust issues, so if he reveals his human form to you and his real name, it’s a huge deal and it means he really values and likes you, he’s constantly invisible due to deep down fear of others. Barry loves action and heartwarming movies, his favorite is Rocky. He also loves classic rock, opera and classical music. Barrys favorite food is nyc style pizza. Barry’s love language is touch, so if he were to have a partner, he’d reluctantly always initiate cuddling (like a cat) or cling to them, he’s embarrassed by it. He can actually cry easier than expected in his human form when it comes to cheesy movies about love/family and traumatic flashbacks, he hates letting anyone see, but if he lets his partner see, then it’s a huge sign of trust. Barrys favorite color is blue. He claims to be a dog guy but is actually a cat person. His toxic masculinity gets in the way of him enjoying a lot of things. Barry’s hobbies outside of trying to take down Vought is birdwatching, sketching, and writing poems, though he hates people knowing since he thinks those are “sissy”. Barry’s pet peeves are righteous people, stupid people, naive people, he doesn’t like humans or supes in general.

Barrys past is that he was sold by his parents and tested on by Vought, but didn’t like that and left at 13, just leaving by his own will after going ghost and phasing through the walls. Hes been on the run and alone from Vought since and has changed identities multiple times, he could just easily evade them by literally disappearing, but he sticks around and keeps trying to expose the hero industry and Vought for the frauds they are. Whereas other supes have been radicalized to hate humans due to their treatment, he blames Vought more and he says he recognizes how they create monsters. Barry can use his powers to get all the dirt he wants and he makes it his life mission to play with all heroes and Vought like a cat and mouse, he could burn everything to the ground, but he strings everyone along for the fun of it, he kinda just wants to watch the world burn. Barry has no experience with love and sexual pleasure, and he has sooo many foods he hasn’t tried due to not having a stomach most the time, a lot of things are foreign to him.

I originally shipped him with homelander butttt I wanna see who you ship him with, it can be with whoever, I’m curious 👀, thank you

I think your ask got eaten, so thank you for sending it again! This is such a thoughtful, well-written OC and I would love to read or see anything you make of him.

I ship Barry with...

John (Homelander) ♡

GIF Source: @amazingmaeve ★ (link)

So, I was dead-set on only doing ships for the coup... until you brought me Barry. Realistically, I do not think the boys would fuck with Barry — they'd be able to co-exist with him, sure, but romantically, none of them would match up with the dude.

Homelander, however, is made of damage, and Barry is, too, which would provide for a very tumultuous, love-hate, delightfully fucked-up relationship.

So, for starters, which is probably the most obvious: the two would not get along with each other. I could see Guy being on a mission separate of the coup to disempower Vought, and despite being the strongest Supe, Homelander would not be able to catch him — as Homelander is someone who brute-forces his way through everything, Guy's abilities would put a block in that route.

Quickly, that turns into a game of cat-and-mouse between the two of them. As shown in his relationship with Butcher (and as opposed to in his relationship with wee Hughie) Homelander does find a lot of fun in back-and-forth battles between "worthy" opponents... akin to playing with his food.

Despite his public persona and need to both appear and be invulnerable, Homelander would be rather enthralled by the challenge — while he knows that Guy is capable, he doesn't think he's that capable, instead just something to fill the time with. And, too, an attractive one, at that. Bro's good-looking, what can he say?

After consistently crossing paths, whether it be Guy going against Vought or the coup, they'd likely have a lot of conversations, with one including an intimate — I mean, as intimate as there can be with Homes — where Guy lets his guard down a smidgen after his corporeal body got absolutely fucked during a mission.

Homelander doesn't feel empathy for him, but he certainly feels... something. The guy is used to just assuming everyone — yes, even Supes — are one-dimensional, and seeing that rare moment of vulnerability does something for the guy (the guy Homelander, I mean, not the guy-Guy). As much as he wants to be the one protected, he wants people to feel somewhat protected by him, even if he only ever ends up using it against them later.

There would end up being a lot of violent sexual tension — like, spitting blood into face, bandaging wounds, if you catch my drift — that I wouldn't see being resolved very quickly due to Homelander being... Homelander. When it does get resolved, though, imagine Stormfront-level fucking. Everywhere. And it would be bloody, too.

And that brings us to Guy's lack of experience; quite honestly, Homelander is thrilled (he's a possessive guy), but he does not respect it, at all. He constantly teases him about his lack of experience, calling him a pussy, making derogatory comments... so, you know, not in the cute way, but in the outright mean Homie way. The guy's a dick.

He's not a stereotypical homophobe — he doesn't openly oppose gay marriage, doesn't go out on the streets screaming slurs, doesn't really care that all — but he certainly is one, I'd say. Homes is someone who deeply cares about his image, and as America's golden boy, him being openly gay would decimate a large chunk of his demographic's love and admiration for him.

You know that André Gide quote that goes something like, "it's better to be hated for who you are than be loved for who you are not"? That is not Homelander. That is the opposite of Homelander. That is everything Homelander is not.

So, because of that, it would take a while for Homelander to really process that he held any sort of fondness towards Barry (no matter how miniscule, because, let's be real, it's Homelander), plus... there would be a ton of threatening for Barry to keep their relationship a secret, even if he was able to pass as an ally to Vought.

Additionally, Homelander never thought of himself as someone who was "gay", and would remind Barry of that constantly, especially to disparage and put down Barry. To Homes, gay is Rupaul, sweater vests, baking, and Beyoncé. Yeah, he may stick his dick in an ass, or get a dick stuck in his ass (#switchhomelandertruther), but that doesn't mean anything. Nope. Not at all.

When it breaks through to Homelander that, shit, he actually does like Barry, he wouldn't call him his boyfriend or anything cute — he'd probably just stick to something formal, like partner, or... um... interesting pet names, like "champ", "sport", and "buddy".

He's very weird.

Homelander being very much in-the-closet wouldn't mean he wouldn't want to show him off, because he still wants to mark Barry as his property. As far as Homelander's concerned, he owns the guy, even if he puts up a fight and challenges him. Whether it's in photos of Homelander fighting him, or a rare moment where Vought puts a "teaming up against evil!" spin on whatever's happening, there's always a very possessive lean to it.

Arguments between the two would often happen, and by God, they would get nasty. Barry's an intuitive guy, and I doubt it would take very long for him to pick up on his insecurities and overall issues. In turn, Homelander would threaten the dude's life, pull out the laser eyes, everything... but, honestly, I still see Barry having the upper hand in all of these arguments. Even if Homelander's the most powerful man alive physically, he's a mentally fragile man, and the fact that Barry is A) someone he cares about and B) says things that are undeniable truths would be extremely disarming.

Does that mean Homelander would be totally incapable of killing him? No, we know what happened to Stillwell. However, it would be very, very difficult, and a lot would have to happen to push Homelander to that point.

I will say, it isn't all bad, though.

The dates range from very fancy (like five-star Michelin meals and vintage Italian wine delivered to his penthouse) to casual (just movies, delivery pizza, and him in his very, very rare hoodie-and-hat combo) but they're still... nice. Honestly, they're even pleasant, and probably the nicest that Homes has ever been.

There are some fucked up, borderline threatening dates in there when Barry doesn't "know his place" though, too. Once, when Barry had messed with Vought in a way, there had been a room-service date that seemed like it was going to end in a bloodbath.

Homes would very, very reluctantly engage in physical affection outside wild sex as he felt more secure in the relationship, and — despite being a dick about Barry's height — would cuddle up as the little spoon.

Also would definitely share his sense of humor, but be a two-faced little shit and scold him in public if he told crass jokes. However, in private? As long as they're both in a good mood, they're a comedic duo.

And, on a kind-of (???) sweet end note: Guy is the only one Homelander has openly introduced himself as John to (although that was far into their relationship), and the only one who would allow him.

So... they're together... but at what cost for humanity? Only time will tell.

#the boys #the boys ship request #ship request #annie january #billy butcher #frenchie the boys #hughie campbell #kimiko miyashiro #mother's milk the boys #m.m. the boys #marvin t. milk the boys #homelander #thank you for bringing ralph maccio into my life btw he is a very handsome lad if i do say so myself #im a sucker for men in polo sweaters

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ajconstantine · 1 year ago

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AJ Constantine's Good Omens Fic Recommendations. Human AU 10-20k word length.

In an effort to organize the stories that I particularly enjoy, I’m compiling them into categories and posting them. I’ll add stories to the lists periodically as I come across more that I like.

My first category is Human AU of a medium-short word length of 10-20k. This length is a satisfying one; enough to feel like it’s a complete story without feeling like it’s a huge commitment to start reading. Interestingly, it doesn’t seem to be a fairly common word length, so I only have six stories to start with.

If you enjoy any of these stories, please comment on the fic and let the writer know! It brightens their day immensely and encourages them to keep writing these wonderful stories for all of us to delight in.

Click on the link below to see the list of stories.

Where We Will Love by TawnyOwl95/ @tawnyontumblr. Rating: E, Chapters: 5. Words: 17,795 Summary: Crowley busks in Piccadilly Circus. Just down the road in Haymarket, Azra Eastgate performs at Her Majesty’s Theatre. One duet is going to change both their lives. MUSIC AU. AJ’s notes: Sweet meet cute, no angst.

Cock Tales by TawnyOwl95. Bartender AU. Rating: E, Chapters: 4. Words: 12, 269 Summary: Crowley’s love life is on the rocks so he finally swears off men. Typical that his new job places him with a co-worker who's so straight up sexy. Or in which, Aziraphale tries to mix things up, Crowley is shaken and Anathema is a right stirrer. But could a relationship be worth a shot?

I'm All Yours by FeralTuxedo/ @feraltuxedo. Rating: E, 11,479 words. Chapters: 4. Summary: Crowley has been rescuing his friend Aziraphale over and over again for a decade. Hopelessly in love, ready to jump at a moment’s notice when he was needed. When Aziraphale finally breaks up with his partner, Crowley is there to help him through what’s looking to be one hell of a mid-life crisis. Things could finally change. If he manages not to mess it up again. A human AU with a whole forest’s worth of pining squeezed into a single day.

Strong Enough For Love by TawnyOwl95. Rockstar AU. Rating: E. Chapters: 5. Words: 14,577 Summary: Music journalist A.Z. Fell has been given the biggest break of his career. A chance encounter has opened up an opportunity to interview elusive rock star Anthony J. Crowley at his Oxfordshire mansion. What exactly is the secret hidden in Tadfield Abbey? And will Azi ever pin down Crowley long enough to get his interview?

Tidewrack by TawnyOwl95. Pirate AU. Rating: E. Chapters: 2. Words: 6,706 Summary: Crowley never wanted to be a pirate captain. He likes giving orders though, and the clothes. And when pretty rich boys are brought to his cabin for questioning. Although this prisoner is making Crowley feel rather out of his depth.

What Hath God Wrought by Saretton/ @saretton. Telegraph AU Rating: E Chapters: 1. Words: 10,310 Summary: Do you remember, my darling, the early days when there were just fingers and air and sounds – a rhythmic beeping in the day, a frantic answer in the night? The orange glow of lamps. Coding and decoding. Choosing the words carefully, never too many, but always enough. AJ’s notes: well done use of first person perspective, reads like a poem, lyrical and lovely. One of my favorites.

#ajsficrecs #good omens fanfiction

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blueshistorysims · 1 year ago

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1906-1908

The next two years of the Walshes’ lives went by quickly. Giselle, turning six, started school that autumn. It felt odd that none of her siblings were there with her. If Byron had not skipped three years of school, they could have walked together to and from the schoolhouse. Instead, because Rebecca was so terrified she’d get sick, she’d walk her daughter every day to school. After a while, it was almost embarrassing. It was a ten minute walk. Giselle didn’t think she’d fall over and die in those very short ten minutes.

Her least favorite of school when she first started was recess. Everyone else got to go outside and play. Giselle couldn’t. Giselle wasn’t allowed. The first few months of school were spent staring out the classroom window, watching her classmates play outside, both upset and envious of being able to play. It was lonely, and even though she’d been there for months, she still didn’t have friends.

Miss Wilson realized how lonely she was, and during lunch and recess, she’d bring cards and books so Giselle would have something to do. The little girl was grateful for her teacher, and she realized that she had to make something out of it, and what wasn’t a better way to practice her embroidery while at school?

Even when she wasn’t at school, Giselle spent most of her time in her room which had once been the nursery, sitting in the little rocking chair, stitching foral patterns on pieces of fabric.

Edeline found friendship like no other at finishing school. Her roommate Lillie Hayward quickly became her best friend, and when they befriended Clare Hamilton, who roomed across from them, the trio was destined to be best friends, doing everything together, much to the annoyance of their teachers.

But Edeline had a goal in the back of her mind. She was going to be a doctor, and she would do anything to achieve it, meaning when she wasn’t in the classroom or with her friends, Edeline spent her free time in the library studying any biology or medical book they had. Lillie and Clare teased her, but they were excited that their friend be would a doctor. It was always good to have a doctor friend.

Byron still read as much as he could and just to see if he could, he managed to teach himself Latin, exclusively from the book kept at Willow Creek College library. Needless to say, when he began Latin the next year, the Latin teacher was shocked by his fluency, transferring him to the Greek class instead.

And such as time does, Byron finally turned 13, meaning that fall, he would stop rooming with his brother Alexander and have someone his age, even if they weren’t in the same year. He felt the same at first, other than a major growth spurt and a newfound passion for taking afternoon naps.

Becoming a teenager opened his eyes to a lot of things he didn’t notice before, the most important thing being his and Reggie’s friendship.

Being at a boarding school all year meant they only saw each other at Christmas time and during the summer. Since Reggie had always struggled with his spelling and handwriting, he rarely sent letters, so normally it was just Byron with updates on their life. Both were now spending more time with those who were in the same social class as them. He hated the idea of class causing the end of their friendship, but he knew deep down that it wasn’t something to be ignored, especially while he was off getting an education and Reggie working on his family’s farm, no longer in school now that he was over 13.

That fall of 1908, Byron met his new roommate, Joel Mungrove, and the pair instantly became friends. They liked the same books and music and talked for hours about poems, stories, and other things that had usually annoyed Alexander whenever Byron had tried to bring it up. Joel was handsome and had an infectious smile that always brightened Byron’s day when he saw him, and soon it was like the duo had known each other for their whole life, not just the school year.

Alexander found Willow Creek difficult at times, but he probably should have spent more time studying than slacking off with friends or writing letters to Edith. Edith was such a kind, funny, and beautiful girl, and the more he wrote to her, the more he envisioned a future: him and Edith taking care of his parents while he was a very successful lawyer. Well… he still had to tell her that he was in love with her.

So summer of 1908, two days after Alexander returned from school, he asked Edith to meet him by the pond where they had first spoken to one another.

“Alexander?” Edith called.

Alexander turned and smiled. “Hello.”

She grinned back. “When did you arrive home?”

“Two days ago. I wrote to you the moment I arrived, but Mama insisted we spend family time before I see friends.”

“Friends?” She mused, walking over and holding his hand. “Are we just friends?”

His heart fluttered, and he tried not to blush. “No, of course not.” He swallowed. “Do you remember what I said in my letter before last?”

Edith nodded. “You said you more than fancied me. You said you loved me. Did you truly mean it?”

“I did. I do. I do love you. I love you very much.”

She blushed and turned to face him, clutching the sides of his arms. Her grip was firm but soft, and Alexander thought he’d die on the spot, her touching him. “I love you too,” she whispered.

His heart leaped with joy, and never before had he been so happy to hear such words. He looked into her bright eyes, shining like the sun, and he thought he’d never seen something more beautiful. Involuntarily, he leaned forward until his breath was upon hers. He didn’t know what he was doing, only a flurry of such strong emotions running through like a river, and he let his body do what his heart desired.

Edith stroked his cheek gently before craning her neck and pressing her lips against his.

Alexander nearly moaned at the touch of her lips against his. They parted briefly before he kissed her passionately, hugging her sides as she wrapped her arms around his neck. This was heaven, he thought. This was pure joy.

Finally, after what seemed like only seconds and hours at the same time, Edith broke their kiss and giggled, resting her head against his cheek, still clutching his arms. Alexander gathered her into his arms, and they both closed their eyes, staying still for quite some time.

#the walshes #the walsh legacy #sims 4 #sims 4 decades #sims 4 decades challenge #sims 4 historical #ts4 story #sims 4 history challenge #edwardian era #edwardian #sims 4 legacy #ts4 historical #ts4 decades challenge #ts4 1900s #the sims 4 #edeline walsh #giselle walsh #alexander walsh #byron walsh

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aidensteddybear · 1 year ago

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Hi!! Can you do little Axel HCs? She’s my favourite reboot character and I can’t find any little Axel

Regressor! Axel Headcanons

•She’s super tiny. She’ll regress anywhere from 0-4.

•Very calm and quiet, mostly. She can still be short tempered, but that’s really if something or someone is upsetting her.

•She has a book filled with poems for children that she enjoys reading/having them be read to her.

•She’s a sleepy baby. Most of the time when she regresses, she’ll just nap.

•She has a gray baby blanket that she carries around everywhere.

•She doesn’t get scared easily, unless someone mentions zombies around her. That’s really one of the only things that freaks her out.

•She has a huge collection of stuffed animals.

•Always has a pacifier in her mouth. It’s her main comfort item.

•She’s super affectionate, but she’s too shy to ask for any hugs/cuddles. Though, it’s pretty easy to tell when she wants them.

•Enjoys having her hair brushed out/played with.

•Very messy eater. She refuses to use any sort of silverware, she’ll only use her hands to eat.

•She doesn’t like any sort of loud noises. They don’t scare her or anything, they just really annoy her.

•She’ll only wear clothes like pajamas or long sweatshirts with sweatpants. She can’t stand normal daytime clothes and will more than likely cry if she has to wear them.

•If she can’t sleep, cradling and rocking her always helps. Whenever her caregiver rocks her, she’ll be fast asleep in minutes.

•She’s not very talkative, she’ll only talk if she absolutely has to. Though she does sometimes like to babble and coo, but that really only happens when she’s at her youngest.

•It’s extremely easy to tell when she’s getting tired. She’ll start rubbing her eyes and/or rubbing her face against her blanket while whining and mumbling.

•She loves grabbing random objects. If she can get her hands on it, she will take it and either carry it around with her or hide it somewhere.

•When she gets nervous or anxious, she’ll start to chew on things. She mainly chews on her fingers though.

•She prefers bottles over sippy cups.

•If she regresses after a bad day, then she’s going to very cranky. All she’ll do the whole time is pout, whine, and cry. The only thing that makes her feel better is just a bunch of cuddles from her caregiver.

#total drama agere #fandom agere #agere fandom #agere headcanons #age regression

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iviarellereads · 1 year ago

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Nona the Ninth, Epilogue

(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For detail on The Locked Tomb coverage and the index, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

(First House icon) In which some things never change.

(Before I continue, go back to the Guest List, the poem that follows it. "You held aloft the sword. / I still love y")

When the rock that had been made meat awoke in a body, it cried aloud, saying—You.

It breaks the chains on its wrists and ankles, the wrists and ankles breaking with the chains. The chains around its neck collapse when it lifts its head and cries, so reminiscent of our dear and only just departed, "Ah, ah, ah."(1)

One of the children(2) seems to offer violence, raising her weapon, but "the black-eyed infant"(3) chides her, and they banter.(4) Alecto rises from the altar, and hits Ianthe with her empty broken hand, forgetting the sword in the other. Ianthe isn't dead, but thrown into the water "like a detestable thing."(5)

And many skeletons emerged from the bones of the bier, and from the walls of the tomb, but when the sword was raised, they fled. When the broken feet touched the stone around the tomb, they were mended, and when the broken hands raised the sword they were mended also, but the body itself was not fully awake, and stumbled on the steps at the bier, crying, John, John; but did not fall.

Some dead children on the shore are "striving loudly" with the living children, and Alecto doesn't know what happened when she hears a voice call her name, and she remembers, and wakes fully.

And Alecto said, Pyrrha, he laid me down as an appeasement to them; he fed you to them as an appeasement to them; but he has never appeased me, and now all he has done was teach me how to die.(6) But Pyrrha did not hear above the noise.

Alecto remembers a vow, and turns back to the other child next to her, raising her sword… but her black eyes awaken another memory, one she had once dreamed, and she stays her sword.

Harrow says she's loved Alecto her whole life, with her whole soul and her whole strength, and she is ready to be destroyed, for she loves still.(7)

Alecto was angry, and raised her up, and kissed her. The child did not cry out, though blood fell from her lips and tongue, and she was wounded sore. For Alecto knew not how to kiss, except such as it involved the mouth and teeth. And Alecto said to her, Why are you not appeased? That is how meat loves meat.(8)

But the blood makes Alecto understand, and she confirms with Harrow that she is the tomb-keeper's line, unbroken. Alecto says she's "very sorry about Samael"(9) and when Harrow doesn't answer, Alecto continues that she swore a vow of service to Anastasia, a favour,(10) which now passes to Harrow as her heir. Harrow protests that she is tainted and lowly, but Alecto kneels and offers her sword, placing Harrow's hand on the blade to seal the vow again in blood, which makes Harrow weak but she doesn't swoon.

Which strength pleased Alecto, who said: Notwithstanding, I offer you my service. To which a voice on the opposite side of the shore was raised, exceeding wroth, and Alecto heard it shout in a very great shout: Get in line, thou big slut.(11) * * * Afterward Alecto went down to the ship(12) and stood before John, purposing to travel through the River, and was grieved to find it yet dead.(13) John was asleep, and not in his garments, unshaved and still drunken. The child who accepted the blade and thereupon fainted with hunger and thirst was thrown over one of Alecto’s arms,(14) a deep sleep like death upon her, and in Alecto’s other hand was the iron sword. And so Alecto took that iron sword, and with one hand pierced John’s chest with it, even to the heart. At which John awakened and said, Annabel, good morning.(15)

=====

(1) It has been brought to my attention that this, coming from Alecto (and previously from Nona, but this is the first time it becomes truly referential) could very well be part of the bridge from Barbie Girl, by Aqua, the so-controversial song. "Come on barbie, let's go party" "Ah-ah-ah-yeah." (2) For they are all children, all her children in a way, but none can hold an inch's length of life to her. (3) Harrow, awake and returned. (4) I'm not just pasting all of this as direct quotes, but referenced memes I see: two-halves dead is hard to source but it feels familiar and not just from my prior read of this book; "then perish" is a classic ye olde Tumblr meme. (5) I love to see Ianthe succeed but I also love to see her treated this way? I just love to see her. I love all the messy women Muir included in her story. So much. (6) The resonance with Nona and the way her last week was spent learning to die. I just. (7) I find this absolutely fascinating as the fulcrum of the scene. John's love is possessive, dominant, commanding, and Alecto grows more and more angry with him and his way. Harrow's love is open, an offering of everything she has and is, and Alecto stays her blade. There's a thesis in here, once AtN is released, I just know it. (8) This book is so quotable, I swear. (9) Here come the theories about Samael being one of Anastasia's children. We now have confirmation that Harrow is of her genetic line, so, the baby room from two chapters ago, that Pyrrha painted mint green. But, some people out there have assembled very compelling evidence that Samael may also have been Anastasia's child, hence the sorrowful apology… and possibly the vow of service. (10) And so we come to how Alecto the First becomes… Alecto the Ninth, coming hopefully in 2024. (11) Kiriona-Gideon, never ever change. <3<3 (12) Down to what ship? How did she travel? (13) The River is DEAD? How and why and what--- THE RIVER IS DEAD?! Long live the Tower, it seems. (14) So Alecto brought Harrow along just to… hang out in her spare arm. Right. Sure. (15) And that beginning poem again. Only, did he really send Kiriona to wake her? ALECTO THE NINTH WHEN?!

But really. That's all.

Hell Will Break Loose In ALECTO THE NINTH

#the locked tomb #tlt #nona the ninth #ntn #nona the ninth spoilers #ntn spoilers #alecto the first #ianthe tridentarius #gideon nav #harrowhark nonagesimus #pyrrha dve

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hekateinhell · 2 years ago

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♡ + Armand/Lestat

I didn't realize you'd reblogged this meme and now you gotta feed me in return 😾 (and if someone else has asked for them in VC then I wanna know about them in your high school au)

babe you get my entire kitchen, apartment, whatever you want 🥹 LOL you already know the whole arc I have planned for them in the sequel but I'll stay in context of where we saw them last on ao3 -- their mutual boyfriend's name freshly tattooed on both their asses and Armand struggling to admit to Lestat that he loves him as well, before Lestat (for once), did the hard part for him.

• Who is the most affectionate?

Lestat.

Armand is incredibly insecure about just how much he's 'allowed' to touch him in public and in private so he doesn't readily initiate -- he doesn't want to rock the boat now that Louis's other boyfriend seems to have finally accepted him (he doesn't entirely trust Lestat's drunken and endorphin-fueled love confession).

Lestat's trying to navigate the awkward 'undefined' stage as well, but in the meantime, he'd like everyone else to know in no uncertain terms that this one also belongs to him. He's living his dream with one arm around Louis's waist and the other draped over Armand's neck. Everyone knows Lestat and Louis have been an on/off item, everyone knows Armand and Louis have also been an item for a while now, Lestat would like the world to know that he and Armand are also... something.

He just doesn't know what yet but if he could mark Armand like a dog in public, he would. It means the world to him that Armand never gave him back his leather jacket after that night and wears it to school every day even though it's much too baggy on him and reaches precisely down to his thighs. To Lestat's eighteen-year-old brain, they're practically engaged as long as Armand holds on to that jacket.

• Who initiates the handholding?

See above.

Poor Lestat has to instigate literally everything right now. Oh no, it's not going to cause any problems down the line, why would it? 😔

• Who worries more for the other?

Armand worries about Lestat living on his own since his mother bailed and left him alone with an empty house. Lestat doesn't... do well alone. He'll invite anyone over to hang out and party if Armand and Louis just can't be there; bad things happen.

• Who is more likely to ask for help?

Directly? Neither of them. But Lestat's much more prone to purposely and consciously acting out in the hope someone will notice and help him. Armand will just pretend Bad Things Aren't Happening.

• Who is the one always losing the keys?

Lestat loses everything that isn't physically attached to his person. Sometimes he forgets where he parked his car and that's his baby.

• Who leaves little love notes for the other?

They're in the same grade (even though Lestat's older, Armand skipped a year and Lestat got held back a year) so Armand and Louis typically share their notes with Lestat who has a terrible fucking time focusing during class (it's the ADHD and dyslexia). He'd much rather and much more easily fill a notebook with lyrics and random doodles for his dream album covers.

When Armand knows Lestat will actually be reading over his notes later (only under threat of a quiz or an exam -- he would like to graduate this year, thank you very much), he works in little quotes from his favorite love poems or songs.

He hopes Lestat knows it's intentional that Armand penned out the entire [love is more thicker than forget] in the margins, that Armand was thinking of him when he wrote it and not just scribbling because he's bored. Don't judge him; we all went through our E.E. Cummings phase.

• Who can't sleep unless the other is there?

Armand is an anxious sleeper and his home life in foster care isn't... great, so he spends at least half of his day at school catching up on sleep. He gets his best sleep in the library on someone's lap; out on the field using Lestat's stomach as a pillow while they lay out on the grass away from everyone else; in the backseat of Lestat's car with Louis's crumpled-up sweater as a pillow and Lestat's jacket as a blanket.

Armand would never sleep in front of other people, but on a mostly subconscious level, he feels safest just knowing Lestat's around -- a 6ft, 175-pound German Shepard that for some reason is personally interested in him right now.

(Though I have to say, Lestat loves when Armand can sleep over at his house, for many reasons aside from the obvious.)

• Who is more likely to propose to the other?

Considering how Armand drunkenly and brazenly asked Lestat to fuck him before they've ever done it, I'm going to say Armand. Whoops...

Let's hope when Armand proposes it goes better than the 'fuck me' conversation did.

• Who introduced the other to their family first?

Neither of their family is in the picture at the moment, so we're going to thrust this onto Louis.

Technically, Lestat and Armand knew of each other and had seen each other around the school before, but the day Louis formally introduced them to each other as his boyfriends was interesting -- in fact, it went something like...

Armand: [spit, hissss] 😾😾😾

Lestat: the fuck.

• Who is more likely to play with the other's hair?

Lestat loves playing with Armand's hair while Armand's napping. He has a shit ton of nervous energy that needs an outlet and he always has to have his hands busy with something, plus he'll make up literally any and every excuse to touch Armand.

• Who makes sure the other has meals/stays hydrated?

Lestat knows about Armand's home life and that he can't always afford to buy lunch at school, so he usually grabs him something from the deli when he goes for himself. He buys something for Louis too so Armand doesn't feel awkward and singled out; it makes Lestat feel good to be in any sort of big manly provider role and it doesn't hurt that Armand flutters his lashes at him and playfully licks his lips as he whispers 'thank you.'

• Who is more likely to stand up to anyone for the other?

Lestat has a much more reactive and implosive temper, so it would probably be him if someone even so much as looked at Armand the wrong way.

He's lost plenty of sleep trying to find out what exactly Armand meant by the virginity comment (they're not in the place yet where he can outright ask and he doesn't want to bring it up to Louis in case Armand hasn't and it'll become A Thing). But he fantasizes about getting to the bottom of it one day so he can figure out who to kill.

Most people leave Lestat alone because he's generally pretty popular and well-liked (and also an older senior who's had his share of fights), but if Armand ever overhears some snarky asshole insulting Lestat's intelligence because he's repeating a grade, he will cut them down to size with the most bitingly vicious words in the calmest possible tone. He might even smile as he does it, just to be extra creepy.

• Who is the most likely to prepare a surprise for the other?

Armand did spring the tattoos thing on Lestat, so I'd have to say Armand.

People expect Lestat to be capricious; Armand not so much, so it's extra surprising. But he loves to plan little 'not quite dates' and excursions that often rely on the premise of 'just trust me, Lestat! 🥺'

• Who makes the other pinky promise not to do certain things?

Armand makes Lestat pinky promise that he's not going do anything reckless like drink and drive if he's going to a house party Armand and Louis can't attend. It's not that Lestat means to be reckless, he just thinks he's invincible.

Lestat's pinky promise requests are much more innocuous, usually after they've made up following a petty adolescent squabble: 'Promise you're not still mad at me? Swear on it.'

• Who puts a blanket over the other when they fall asleep on the couch?

Lestat covers Armand up when he's fallen asleep at school, Armand covers Lestat when he falls asleep on his couch or in his bed. Usually Lestat's on top of him already, between his legs and resting his head on his chest, and so it takes a bit of gymnastics practice to maneuver a blanket over them both. It's worth it for some of the best sleep either of them will get anytime soon. 💖

#hope this improved your day just a bit 🥹🥹🖤🖤#thank you for always indulging my 101 AU thoughts every single day of life i would die sad and alone without you 🤧#i did get a vc l/a ask but my brain supernovas whenever i think about them in canon and i end up puking meta so i need a Moment #ship headcanons ask meme #armand/lestat #fic: exposed

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theshehulkproject · 1 year ago

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18, 21, 25!

Yessssss!

18: A memorable meal this year?

The first one! On New Year’s morning, my friend pulled out all the stops and had a fully gluten free crepe party/brunch for my friends who had come to town for New Year's. She served one round of savory crepes. Oh wait, I found a picture of the menu she made.

it’s not so much the crepes as it is… just the love that’s stored in that meal. The wonder of setting the table and then sitting in the coziest kitchen with my friend who is 6 watching my best friends bustle about the kitchen. Reading bits of a literary nonfiction book aloud whenever something catches my fancy. Truly the Wendy Cope Orange poem of meals.

21: What’s something new about your place of residence (room, home, or general location) now vs the start of the year?

I moved! Once upon a time I lived in a low-ceilinged basement apartment, but then I found a newt in it (!!!) and found that the floorboards were full on molding. I freaked out and moved out to a second story apartment that’s my favorite place I’ve ever lived alone—just enough space for me and my cat, more sunlight, and a covered patio!!! That my dad and I converted to a catio!!!

25: Did you create any characters (in games, art, or writing) this year? Describe one

@starlit-mansion you are the only one who knows about them!!! But I’ll tell everyone else as well.

Sometimes before bed I'll look at exchange Original Works writing prompts to full-contact juggle in my brain while I'm drifting off. I found a prompt for The Goddess of Telepathy/The God of Jewelry/The God of Time and I got so excited I couldn't sleep for HOURS. Before too long I had three solid characters and a whole pantheon set up, it was a beautiful thing. I still think of them constantly, but this is the most I've written down about them for a long time:

The Goddess of Telepathy is basically the goddess of deep knowing; the goddess of mountains and whalesong and the feeling that rocks get when rivers run over them for a hundred years... and also like 15 actually telepathic humans but they all try not to make too big a deal out of it. She's big in every dimension: tall and fat with the confidence of an opera singer but the serenity of someone who meditates every day. Her skin is the light brown of willow bark and she wears exclusively drapey, toga-like clothing.

The God of Jewelry is a real gremlin of a man, who was once the Goddess of Jewelry but then he made a golden phallus one time and decided it was his. Where his wife is still and serene, his hands are always in motion, always fiddling with the incredible amount of jewelry he has on at any time. He wears sort of a punk-rock military-style jacket and has dark skin with locs that have all kinds of beads in them. Very important: He always has a small living golden frog that spends most of its time as an ear cuff and might be his familiar? possibly a help in the jewelry forge?

The God of Time is just a mess.

I love these three but I might love them too much to commit them to an OW story? Someone did request them again for Holly Poly, though, so I might try to make it work for that? We'll see.

(I have other OCs that I haven't told anyone about, also based on OW ship tags, and I could share if you want but also it's late and I might have to go to bed.)

#presonal post

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mokkemusic · 2 years ago

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I am just gonna express here complete gibberish but you don’t understand how much I love Chihayafuru I have so many scenes running through my mind after the spin off chapter. It’s not just progression in goals ! It’s progressions In how characters view things and THAT THAT TO ME IS THE MOST IMPORTANT. Everybody has said this and I agree with them you can’t describe this series to anyone you just can’t, you won’t do it any justice no matter how skilled you are. Cause it’s genius that can only be told through experience DEAR GOD GIVE ME A SEASON 4 !!!!!

Let me be clear I am not preaching to any of you this post is just for me

Hell I saw such character growth in Arata today ARATA ! Im not gonna take 5 mins to say THAT WAS A JOKE IM NOT PUTTING DOWN ARATA I’m just not. But goddammit I was so proud of him and his connections with people and the POEMS! The God of the Karuta world everyone said up on a frekin pedestal yea?! Well where’s his connection with the poems huh? You might have had everyone convinced but not me! But today I saw the translation I read about Arata talking to Sumire about the poems and how he finally felt connected to them and I FULL ON SOBBED! - no one has any idea what I’m talking about Idc this is for me 😂

I saw this family come to together again Hiro was a bright and eccentric as ever. My precious boy! Chihaya was the sun that came down working so hard behind the scenes this whole time even though Sumire though she just dumped all this on her and she had no one to turn to

I SAW TAICHI HAPPY DAMMIT! HE WAS HAPPY with this little daddy bear phone pop socket and every little sentimental thing that is second nature to his relationship with Chihaya IF I HAVENT MENTIONED IT THERE DATING YOU KNOW IN CASE I DIDNT MENTION IT!

I saw lonely people connect and support each other, I saw old friends. I saw how much this story has impacted characters you wouldn’t think to give this kinda thought too!

I saw genuine emotions from Arata when Mizuzawa won (yea yea I know I know) but like you could see it on his face!

There’s so much that these characters had to go through to get to all this! And even do nothing is “amazing” it’s just trying. If there’s anything Chihayafuru doesn’t do it’s plateau success. The characters could be on cloud nine one day then rock bottom the next SUCH AS LIFE ! but it’s their ways of thinking that change and progress which is wow … that is also growth right? Seems like such a simple concept but it makes me so emotional! As do all the call backs and memories that are PACKED into this ch! I will be making an edit when I’ve rested my thumbs cause I haven’t stopped typing all damn day! (Dana then why are you typing now?) CAUSE I AM FILLED WITH TOO MUCH EMOTION IM GONNA EXPLODE THATS WHY

Anyway I didn’t have a point to any of this and if I did I lost it except the ones that I already said I JUST LOVE EVERYONE IN THIS DAMN SERIES I JUST LOVE EVERYONE! THEY ARE SO BURNED INTO MY HEART!

Hell I made a 17 sec reaction of me screaming cause I saw Hiroshi HIROSHI like. I love you Hiroshi I love you everyone

Ok thank you for coming to my ramble

#Dana rambles about Chihayafuru #i am not ok I am THE EMOTIONS #I #DAMMIT

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ilikereadingactually · 12 days ago

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Water, Water: Poems

Water, Water: Poems by Billy Collins

it's been a little while since i've read a poetry collection, even though twenty-five years ago i thought i wanted to be a professional poet and i still really enjoy reading it. so it was lovely to dive into this collection, which for the most part was very much to my taste!

this book in one sentence: a collection of fairly short free verse poems, which use pleasingly accessible language to examine the emotions underneath mundane, everyday, or just very small moments.

i'm sure it's become clear through my reviews that i love reading beautiful language, and part of that for me is really loving when frank and un-flowery language is used to beautiful effect. this collection really struck me that way! poetry is at its best for me when it casually turns over the most insignificant rocks to expose some view i wouldn't have seen or thought about, human experiences that are not universal, but rather emotionally understandable. Collins is doing that here, in ways that were more or less relatable to me in their specifics, but were full of feelings and interesting observations and straightforward words for un-straightforward things.

this isn't to say that there are no stunning poetic turns of phrase here—there are—but the strength of this collection is in ordinariness, i think, and Collins' willingness to make fun of himself a bit. charming self-deprecation is hit or miss for me, but these poems mostly hit!

the deets

how i read it: an e-galley from NetGalley yet again. I really truly am almost caught up now. i can see the horizon when i will pick up a physical book in my room and read it without the pressure of galleys i thought i would get to quicker weighing on me, lol.

try this if you: dig poetry that feels mundane but resonates deeply, enjoy a bit of writing about writing, or are looking for a way into poetry with something more accessible!

some lines i really liked: part of a poem and the whole of another!

... as I examine the details of a rural scene on the side of this Delft teacup while waiting for the water to boil and for you to come back home. Unless, of course, you are waiting out there for me to apologize, in which case you will find yourself all alone at the end of human time, beholding the tall, cascading waves of fire, sinkholes of ice, and that merciless quartet of horsemen in their scarlet vestments, who are now wheeling their steeds around and appear to be galloping furiously in your direction.

---

Against Longing One of the things I would not write is I wish I could fly away on silver wings or I'd like to be a starfish on a sandy beach. Longing was once a big part of poetry, but now it's better to just say you're flying. I'm flying! And don't sound overly surprised by it. Then you can describe all the things you find yourself flying over. Another baseball diamond...and that marina. And as for the nagging ambition to be a starfish lying on a sandy beach, just be one, lying there on a summer day in the middle of a circle of little kids, all poking you with sticks until some older kid comes along, picks you up, and launches you underhand in a huge arc back into the sea. Poof, you're a starfish. Also, you don't need that extra word sandy. Let the reader make the beach sandy in his head, let him meet you part way. You can even picture your reader alone in a poorly lit public library looking down at your poems the way those kids looked down at you on the beach, wondering how you were ever born and how you manage to get from place to place.

pub date: November 19, 2024! shockingly, i am ahead of publication on this one! go look for it at your local indie or library!

#books and reading #booklr #bookblr #book recs #book reviews #poetry #water water #billy collins

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1spy · 12 days ago

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1992 | 10,000 Maniacs - “These Are Days”

It is hard to be a person. And, to me, the hardest thing about being a person is seeing yourself the ways others see you. The best gift I’ve received is when someone—anyone—pulls me aside and tells me I’m being an asshole. And exactly why they think so. But that hardly ever happens. Because people don’t want to waste energy and social capital explaining to me that I have have obvious, correctable issues. Or that I have said a terrible, stupid thing. It is an unpleasant conversation, and I do not take it well. Ask my wife. Even she is reticent to give me the clarity I badly need. Because I will deny. And resist. And be angry and hardheaded. Or blame her instead of myself. But eventually I realize she is right. And she is always right. And I do try to be a better person. For you who may be recent acquaintances and doubt my improvement, believe me. This is the best I have been. And worse, I hope, than what I will be. Because the understanding of others is so valuable, I have always appreciated advice. A good advice giver will provide practical guidance earned with experience. But most advice, even bad advice, will also include an assessment of you and your circumstances. The words may be polite and unoffensive, but encoded within will be a valuable glimpse of how that person sees you. It’s not as pure or as valuable as someone telling you “hey, you just showed your whole ass back there.” But advice, though perhaps less useful than direct instruction, is more pleasant for both the giver and receiver. Right now, you’re probably wondering “is this dude really gonna write 10,000 words before he says anything about 10,000 Maniacs?” I do apologize. There may be no album I’ve listened to more than Our Time in Eden. I listened to it 10,000 times my senior year of high school and that summer before college. I’ve returned to it many times since. Because the way I hear the album it is a friend giving me the best advice I’ve needed and wanted to hear. Or it’s a girl taking down a book of poems and reading. Or it’s the memory of me hanging out with the first great group of friends I had just as I was becoming an adult. It’s always been all of these things at once. When I hear singer Natalie Merchant’s voice on these songs, what I remember most is how amazing it felt to have good friends for the first time in my life, to feel warm and optimistic. Like I had figured things out at just the right time in my life. When I listen, I remember being 18 and graduating high school. I remember my freshman year in college and being with my first girlfriend. I remember all of us driving to downtown Houston to watch folk singers play at Cyrano’s coffee bar next to the Montrose library. Or going to a jazz bar. Or watching movies at Landmark River Oaks 3 (before I started working there). I think we all felt very adult and artistic, but also just grateful to be with each other. The magic of the album, and probably the point of the title, is the way Merchant’s words encouraged me to appreciate the greatness of the moment, being on the cusp of innocence and adulthood, in real time. Hearing this album when I was 18 and 19, I felt nostalgia for my life as I was living it. I knew exactly how I good I had it.

These are days you'll remember When May is rushing over you with desire To be part of the miracles you see in every hour You'll know it's true that you are blessed and lucky It's true that you Are touched by something That will grow and bloom in you

Lyrics that read, on the page, as if they were lifted from an old Romantic poem or graduation speech, sound more convincing when Merchant sings them over the best songs and arrangements 10,000 Maniacs had ever put on record. This was the first and only 10,000 Maniacs album I liked enough to buy. The earlier records seemed bogged down by preachy lyrics and uninspiring 80s college rock production. But on Eden, Merchant’s righteousness mostly gives way to empathy and wisdom, and the band’s arrangements are bolstered on every song by lush, forceful piano playing from Merchant and original keyboardist Dennis Drew. In these songs Merchant is remembering, too. In “Stockton Gala Days” she sings to a departed (deceased?) friend about how changed and withdrawn she’s become since they grew apart:

That summer fields grow high. We had wildflower fever. We had to lay down where they grow. How I've learned to hide, how I've locked inside, you'd be surprised if shown. But you'll never, you'll never know

In “How You’ve Grown” she rewrites the trite expression into on observation about how slow it seems to finally grow up ourselves, and how bittersweet it is to see our our distant nieces or friends’ daughters become women in our absence:

"My, how you've grown." I remember that phrase from the childhood days, too Just wait and see." I remember those words and how they chided me When patient was the hardest thing to be Because we can't make up for the time that we've lost I must let these memories provide No little girl can stop her world to wait for me

“Few and Far Between” begs a lover to stop using memories and regrets as an excuse not to move forward:

'Till you make your peace with yesterday You'll never build a future, I swear by what I say Whatever penance you do Decide what it's worth to you And then respect it However long it will take To weather your mistakes Why not accept it?

When I hear the album now, there’s kind of a darkness mixed in with the good. Because I do have regrets. Because I have made mistakes. Because I’ve done things to lose some of the great friends I’ve had in my life. When I play it now, it’s the opening minor chords in “Noah’s Dove” that fill me, not with dread, but with a ruminative hollow. I remember the good and the bad. But it’s the missteps that are more deeply felt and acute. You can get lost in memory and nostalgia. In regret. And at times, that’s what this album has been for me. A place to sit and have my coffee (or, my beer and cigarettes, when I was lost in those things), and think of old faces and trips I took or should have taken. A worn chair where I can be an emo sad bastard. I don’t get to go back in time and fix my mistakes. I haven’t always made things right with the people I’ve hurt. Sometimes they drift away and I never find out why or what I did or said. Because I maybe didn’t matter enough to them to make that effort. In the title track, Merchant sings:

Believe me, the truth is we're not honest, not the people that we dream We're not as close as we could be

The best friends I’ve had have been willing to help make up the distance. To show me a glimpse of the person I could and should have been in the moment. To, let me know I missed the mark. I know it takes tremendous effort and patience and love to correct a friend and build a better friendship. It’s a lot to ask of someone. Maybe too much. Instead, I just have to keep trying to be a better person. And of course, every now and then, when I could use some advice, I put on this record and remember that these are days, too. The ones I’m living now. The ones I share with you. Fave lyrics:

These are days you'll remember Never before and never since, I promise Will the whole world be warm as this And as you feel it You'll know it's true That you are blessed and lucky It's true, that you are touched by something That will grow and bloom in you

#1spy #10 #10000 Maniacs #natalie merchant #our time in eden #Spotify

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crater-lake · 1 month ago

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168

10/21/24

I am going to decide to trust what exhaustion is saying about everything and still want to exist by the end of this entry. I am going to change the reason why I live. I will try to disappear to save myself (I bet Sebastian from choir, and Murod have never needed to get as low as this, but even this assessment is a farce of my ego.)

Platon said he was not interested in me but I understood that this was going to happen from his lack of interest over DMs. I wanted to give that a neutral assessment to be righteous but I was wrong about that. I should have judged it, and did. I defended myself well and forgive myself for being boring, ugly, and not artistic enough, even though being artistic was once everything. He did not want to capture me with his photography eyes. Maybe he could tell I was a fraud that I can only ever half tell when a poem is good, and that my small, stupid books, my self deprecating talk about shame and lack of conviction (how he has survived his life and I have lived mine) and that I am just ugly. My hairline is receding and my face is fat and my clothes are average. I had this thought tonight: 2024 is the year I really see myself. My dreams are bullshit because I am a failing artist, like Miles and Jana. I don't know about the kernel of breath and the decay of language. Don't ask me questions that go any deeper than that. I will obviously become confused. I am a bad poet to the bone, and isn't that everything? And I am ashamed to be so fixated on my badness. Better people would just go and live but I am in a nothing room complaining about not living.

Platon needs men more interesting than me. I am frequently bored by myself and don't think I want a whole life at all. I don't dream of anything because I know I am not who I am. I am not. I am not even worth love by my best friend who I know will just think I am boring one day too. And Matt will also see through my fraudulence and decide on how I am just some stupid fucking guy. Platon said I was smarter than him and it's not true at all. I just don't know when I shut up. I just don't know how else to love myself besides to find myself interesting. And whenever I can move on to the next thought, imagine what will come of my precious life.

I see Josh walking into the cafe, I see Josh sitting on the bus in 2018. I see my journal listening. Today I read how the old Austrian people are looking for love and cried, thank god for that cry. I see my journal listening. To the third person stories. In my dream, Frankie is on a trampoline hitting someone in the nose. Molly is having an awkward kiss in a kitchen that smells a little wrong. I can hear those voices too when I really listen. I don't mind that I am bad at telling stories. I just say that action parts. I just cannot stand anticipation and don't care for it. I imagine how much more lovable I'd be if I could tell a story well.

What does my head mean lying on Platon's shoulder? I'm sitting at a table and we are drinking and playing truth or truth. They say they are afraid to die and I feel so bored. I said I am afraid that I am not the main actor in my own story. I do not say my actual deep fear of loneliness. I like how business does not include love usually. Emily says talk to me if you need as I wish I didn't exist. The problem is if I stopped existing it might be a slippery slope and that love subtraction would build up and up and up. I have nothing to say about how dragon flies breathe by letting wind pass through them. I don't care or understand how that connects to grief. I am a boy who wants a rock thrown at him. Platon was wrong about the right things and right about the wrong things. Leaves do not speak by trees by wind. I make very boring and stupid comments about instrument. I make boring and stupid comments about Left and Right and Passion as Patior in Latin. Imagine if I were still in my season.

It was nice today how Alexandra didn't let me get any deeper in the self deprecating and didn't ask probing questions about my bad week. I didn't want to say it and didn't know how to. She also didn't want to hear it which I liked. She might find me callous at times, but I have trouble understanding what she likes about me at the moment. Forgiveness is acceptance that hurts you to do it (I can feel Charlie qualify everything with a sly metaphor). Forgiveness is acceptance that you don't want to do in the first place. Does forgiveness get tied to your reaction (choice) or the self (no choice). My aunt is dead and I stop being interesting after that. Ananya experiences unimaginable horrors and I conjure a 4 year old nothing ego death. I was snow globe important. I was night rolled sweetly into mint gum into the Walgreens I don't know how to get back into. I am a night I stay up too late for. And I must be alright since I am writing so much and whatever the words are talking to moves something.

Jay said You're chewing loud and Jay said something about .... and I didn't understand. Nate is annoying nearby. I don't want to exist but manage that like every girl has done since she was 14. I am new to not wanting a body or a name for a few minutes. I am so many dominoes waiting and never not once pummeling down. I am the nothing difference between have and be. I am a concept that makes someone important. I am a poem that I don't get. I tried to hide my self hatred but he scented it. You salt the Earth with your wanting.

The summer bugs stop at one point. I mistook the inhaling through my nostrils for the bugs I haven't heard since I left. What strange magic.

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