#pretty sure there was something very negative used for franky too

[franeridan]

extremely interesting that sanji and zoro unveil diable jambe and asura during the same fight, btw. extremely interesting that both of them are likened to the devil when luffy is a god too, actually

[peoplesgraves]

What The Main Ghouls Are Like As Yanderes

Frankie

Frankie is so sweet and it’s really not her fault that she becomes obsessed with you. She’s only been alone for a couple weeks, how is she supposed to know that her obsession isn’t normal if no one tell her? Frankie’s lack of experience translates to all parts of your relationship. From her standing in the rain with a boom box and then consequently short circuiting to her Valentine’s Day filled with chocolates and teddy bears just like she’s seen in the movies. She probably shocks you the first time you kiss because she’s so excited. She follows you around like a lost puppy because you’re the person she trusts most, you’ll teach her and take care of her and she’ll do the same for you.

Draculara

Draculara is a lot like Frankie, but unlike Frankie draculaura doesn’t have the luxury of youth to hide behind. She’s super clingy and will always be hanging off of your arm or asking for piggy back rides. She picks out all your clothes and probably has more then a few outfits so you two can match. She sits on your lap in the creepateria and hides her face in your neck when she sees anything non vegetarian. Draculara is very manipulative, if she catches wind that you’re upset or rethinking the relationship then she’ll bring up Valentine complete with crocodile tears.

Clawdeen

Clawdeen is very chill. Like the most possessive thing she’ll do is always make sure she has an arm round your shoulders or is holding your hand. She’s really cutesy too, she’ll put a finger in your belt loop or squish your cheeks while telling you how cute you are. She’d be a really good person to talk to and definitely gives the best advice of all the main ghouls because hers is the least clouded by obsession. Clawdeen would be ok with you having friends outside of her own as long as she meets them first and makes sure they’re ok.

Lagoona

Lagoona would be very manipulative. She’ll use her Australian twang and overall bubbly,kind personality to subtly push you in whichever direction she pleases. She’s really good at exploiting your fears and weaknesses without you realizing that she even knows they exist. Her love language would be to take care of you in the best ways she knows how. Making sure she packs a healthy lunch for you and waking you up at a reasonable time with a super sweet message .

Cleo

Cleo is unapologetic about her yandere traits. It’s not that she thinks they’re ok it’s more so that she just doesn’t care. She’d like to think that if they start impacting you negatively she’d be able to stop but she can’t know for sure. She’ll use her influence to socially isolate anyone she deems unworthy of you and her. All her friends become your friends and all her hobbies become yours. With Cleo it starts to feel like you’re losing yourself and just becoming her. She’s very needy and greedy. She monopolizes your time worse then any one else. She’ll buy you gifts and throw parties to make up for it.

Ghoulia

Ghoulia as a yandere is very clingy and will follow you around pretty much all the time. She worn really control your choices or manipulate you but she’ll quickly become something of a stalker. She’ll carry your bag on the way to class, always has a bag of your favorite snack right when you need it and is happy to give you the answers to the homework you forgot. She also has a really high tolerance for being treated badly because of how close she is with Cleo. Like you could call her names in a time of overstimulation and she’d still be waiting outside the school for you with a smile.

[alittledizzy]

This is a straight up copy/paste from what I put on IDB yesterday so if you’re on the forum please go chat with me there! That’s definitely the place where I’m willing to talk most freely. If you send an ask and it’s not something I feel like expressing my opinion about on a platform where people often send anons just to nitpick/argue or attack, I will probably ignore it. But some anons can be great so just in case anyone that doesn’t want to use a forum wants to talk abou, here are my reactions: 

I think the fact that he’s considering an editor is an amazing thing. Particularly if his vertigo is worsened by screens (and I assume it is, most people I know with it say that) then he might have a concrete reason to give up control without it being just a choice he made out of (his self- perceived) laziness or being disingenuous. Franky I’d be very happy if the process of making a video that takes Phil the longest and he probably dreads the most were removed from the equation and he’d make more.

I find it super interesting that he included a question about sexual positions, but his answer was very fair and very Phil. He didn’t spill the tea, just gently scolded the trend of making assumptions on positions based on personality. The fact that it was a 50/50 split though - lmao. Just goes to show how people can interpret the same data set with their own bias and come to wildly different conclusions.

He acknowledges his own anxiety so easily now. It’s such a point of growth for Phil. I’m team everyone could benefit from good therapy (while understanding that finding therapy that is affordable and works for you can be very, very difficult depending on where you are) so I hope Dan nudges him into it.

His online persona is definitely not his real life persona but I also think that Phil addressed the differences while minimizing them. I think the truest elements of himself are static in every aspect of what he does, but I think the Phil that Dan or Bryony or Martyn gets is unguarded in a way we notice Phil rarely is and that guarded version of him gets often read as inauthentic for the sake of content when it’s more like Phil projecting for an audience that is not in his close, comfortable circle. The real issue is that we know what Phil is like when with that inner circle (Dan) and the jump between Phil with Dan and Phil talking to us alone can sometimes feel lackluster because of that exclusion of closeness.

I’m skipping around here, sorry, but backtrack time: His medical situation makes me feel really bad for him and also just reinforces to me that when they aren’t posting much, we really don’t have any fucking idea why most of the time. I’d much rather it be a project he’s about to drop next week, but health is important and I’m sure Dan is shitting himself too - especially if all this went on while they were moving and Dan’s book promo and all that. I don’t know that much about vertigo or how disruptive it can be to life, but having to spend half your time laying down feeling sick sounds pretty miserable. If Phil, who almost never admits anything personal and negative impacting his life unless it’s a years old mention, describes how he feels as “very bad” then I’m inclined to truly believe him. Hopefully whatever head numbing treatment he has going on actually works!

[forever-rogue]

“we’re just…friends.” “friends don’t do this type of shit!” FRANKIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You asked for some Frankie and you get some angsty Frankie, babeyyy. Did I loosely base this off an experience in my own life? Maybe. But this one has a much better ending. Enjoy!

Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Warnings: none

»»————-　♡　————-««

What was supposed to be a simple shopping trip ended up being a lot more than you had bargained for. You’d gone shopping for Christmas decorations with Frankie, aka your best friend, also aka the love of your life. Except he didn’t know that, and he would never know.

Above all else, he was your best and oldest friend and you didn’t want to lose everything you had with him, and if that meant suppressing your feelings and staying quiet, then you were willing to do. You’d rather have him as just a friend, than nothing at all. And you were sure that he would never like you back. Why would he?

But as you looked around the shelves of the home goods store, chatting away excitedly as you both sipped your hot cocoa, you felt fine, everything was fine. Until he ran into her. His latest girlfriend, aka a girl you just inherently despised, but had no real reason to. She was kind, albeit not a fake way, and friendly, having been more than kind to you on the times you’d met her. She was pretty, fun, and it was easy to see why Frankie had fallen for her; she seemed to make him genuinely happy. Of course she’d chosen today to come to the store at the same time, and he’d greeted and chatted with her for a moments before turning his attention back to you.

You’d tried to pretend everything was fine, in reality it was, and nothing was changed. Something within you had snapped. It had completely broken you were suddenly heartbroken. There was something about the moment, about today, that had you realize just how much you loved him. How much your chest ached at the thought of him, and how you would never having anything more.

And maybe it was time...to let it go. You didn’t want to constantly feel like this, or harbor these jealous feelings any time he’d have a girlfriend, or more. It wasn’t fair to him, or to you. You either laid it all on the table, or you had to walk away. You just knew you couldn’t do it anymore.

“Bee?” Frankie’s soft warm voice reached your ears as you looked at the small little bee ornament displayed on the tree. It had made you smile when you’d seen it initially, especially since that been Frankie’s nickname for you since you were kids, “is everything okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you took your hand away from it and blinked a few times in order to keep your tears at bay before taking a step back. You looked at those eyes, those soft brown eyes, before making a hasty decision, “I, um, I have to go to.”

“What?” he asked, confusion visibly crossing his features, “what do you mean? We just got here and we’ve still got plans-”

“I know, I just remembered that I have to go,” you lied as you tried to offer him a small smile, “I’m so sorry, Frankie.”

“I drove,” he reminded you, “let me give you a ride to wherever you need at least.”

“No, it’s okay,” you had your back to him, a few tears spilling down your cheeks as you kept your back to him, “I’ll get an Uber or something-”

“Bee-”

“Goodbye, Frankie,” you interrupted him before he could go on, rushing out of the small shop as you started to sniffle and cry, not even bothering to hold it back anymore. You knew, the remaining logical part of you knew, that it wasn’t exactly fair to do this to him either without some sort of explanation, but you couldn’t do it. Not right now anyway....maybe one day.

»»————-　♡　————-««

One day had turned into several days and several days into weeks.

You hadn’t meant to let it get this far, but once it started you couldn’t stop it. Days were spent wallowing and crying, feeling sorry for yourself even though you had brought at least part of this yourself.

And Frankie? Poor Frankie. He was seemingly just as distraught as you were. He had called and texted nearly everyday, checking in on you, asking if you were okay, but everything went unanswered. He even came over in the evenings after work and you feigned sleeping or that you weren’t home. He even came by your office and asked about you, but you had politely declined his visit.

You were being a terrible, awful jerk and you knew it. You just couldn’t handle being around him at all right now. It was all too much and not even at the same time. But he was persistent, damn persistent and he wasn’t about to let you walk out of his life. Not without a good reason.

So one evening, after he was off work, he came straight over to your house, sitting down on the porch and waiting for you to get home. He was done waiting for answers. It had caught you so off guard that you panicked and didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t like you could just hide or run away; no, it was time to face you demons.

Swallowing thickly, you climbed out of your car and slowly made your way over to him, offering him the ghost of a smile as he looked at you with red rimmed eyes. Shit. You hadn’t meant to do this to him. He looked just as nervous as you as he clutched a small box in his large hands.

“Frankie, what are you doing here?” you attempted to side step him, but it was no use. He was on his feet in a flash and blocked your way to the door, “Frankie...”

“Why have you been ignoring me?” there was a crack and a shake to his voice as you allowed yourself to meet his eyes, “you ran out on me and then have been ignoring me for three weeks. Bee, what’s wrong? Did I do something?”

“Frankie,” you already felt the warm, familiar sting behind your eyes as you realized this was happening. It had to, after all, at one point or another. There had been no way that Frankie was going to let anything go, “please don’t do this. Not now...”

“Then when?” he asked as you stared at your feet and shrugged, “my best friend, and the best damn thing in my life just walks away and says nothing and you except me to just accept it?”

“I...we’re just friends,” you stated as he avoided looking at his eyes. If there was any time to go ahead and spill it all and pour your heart out, it was now. You took a long breath and steadied yourself, “and I don’t know if I can do that anymore...I don’t know if we can be friends anymore.”

“We’ve been friends for almost thirty years,” he let out a small, bitter laugh, “and you want to just stop? For no reason?”

“I have a reason,” you wiped away the tears that had rolled down your cheeks, warm and salty as ever, “I can’t be just friends with you, Frankie. Friends don’t do this type of shit, all the things we do. How we are, how we seem...it’s not just friends. You and I both know it, and I know you only see me as a friend. And I can’t keep doing it.”

“What do you mean we’re just friends?” he asked softly as you held up your hands in frustration, “please just say what you want to say. I-I’ve been worried sick about you for weeks, at least be honest. And if then you still decide you want nothing to do with me, I’ll respect that.”

“Frankie, I...I’m in love with you,” the words came out surprisingly easy. They’d been on the tip of your tongue, as you always seemed to dance around them, for years. And now they were out, on the line just like your heart, “and I don’t just mean I love you, but I’m in love with you. Actual love.”

“D-do you mean it?”

“Yes,” you nodded slowly, “and that’s why I had to walk away...you deserve happiness Frankie, we all do, and you seem so happy with Ashley, and she seems so kind, but I can’t help but harbor negative feelings for her. Because she has what I want...you. And it’s not fair to you or her or me to feel that way and still hang around. It’s no one’s fault, it’s just the nature of the beast. But I think it’s best if we...just didn’t hang out for a while so I can get my own feelings in check and see if I can be just friends with you.”

“I broke up with Ashley,” he admitted as your jaw dropped and you raised your eye in confusion. He nodded at the the surprise on your face, “the day after you ran out on me.”

“What? Why? You seemed so happy together...”

“She was great,” he admitted softly, “and she was very kind and understanding when I told her I couldn’t be with her anymore. She said she’d kind of felt it coming for a while.”

“Oh. Oh. Why? What happened?” you asked as he was now the one to avoid your eyes.

“Nothing happened so to speak,” he confessed, “she asked if I was in love with you and I said yes. I have been for a long time...she said it was obvious. I don’t know...it just hit me. I’d always known, but something changed that day, and I really knew. I decided it was time to tell you too. I don’t want to spend a single day without you, Honey Bee.”

“Frankie...” you looked up and saw that he was crying now too, his cheeks flushed pink as he waited for you to say something, anything. In his haste, he held up the box to you, which you slowly took and gently unwrapped. Inside was the pretty little bee ornament you’d been eyeing at the shop. You cradled it delicately in your hand as you looked up at him, regretting walking away without a word, regretting almost losing him completely, “it’s the one I was looking at it. You got it for me?”

“Of course,” he slowly reached up and put his hand on your cheek, gently stroking your soft skin, “a little bee for my sweet bee.”

“Do you mean it, Frankie?” you keened into his touch as clutched the bee to your chest, “because I don’t want you to say it unless you really mean it.”

“I do,” he promised gently, “the only thing I regret is not saying it a long time ago.”

“Me too,” you agreed, “I’m sorry for walking away like that ignoring you. I shouldn’t have just left.”

“I wouldn’t have let it go without a fight.”

“Good,” you beamed at him, “I love you, Frankie.”

“I love you, Honey Bee,” the two of you just grinned at each other like fools, “can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“May I kiss you?”

“Please.”

So he did. Finally.

Frankie finally kissed you. And it was everything and then some that you had always wanted and dreamed of.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[everyhowlmarksthedead]

Not bad at all.

FRANCISCO ‘CATFISH’ MORALES. ┃ TRIPLE FRONTIER.

❝ request by @chibsytelford: Heyo. What about reader being very shy around Frankie on the first date, who's also shy, and one of them just cracks a joke and they just laugh and laugh and the ice is broken, and they have the best date. ❤ Thank you.

❝ words: about 1.9k.

❝ a / n: first time writing for Frankie! I'm really excited and I hope you all enjoy it.

Gif credits to the author.

“Santiago García, I swear that if you stand me up, I'm gonn—”.

“(Y/N)?”

Your blood freezes at the call as your eyes go wide, keeping the phone in your ear as you spin around with a forced and ashamed smile on your lips, you feel your knees weak watching Frankie some steps away from you with both hands inside the red and black flannel jacket. Son of a bitch. Hanging up the call —or better said, the voicemail— the two of you come closer to each other.

“What 'you doing here?”

As the question comes out of his mouth, there's an awkward moment where you don't know if you should greet with a kiss on your cheek or hugging, being a mix of both that makes you giggle.

“Well, uh… It was supposed I'd have dinner with Santi, but… he hasn't shown yet”. You reply puckering your lips, noticing the change in his gesture. “I've been waiting for the last twenty minutes and I'm really hungry”.

You can't help but frown watching him rub the back of his neck, slightly moving the hat covering his softs curls. Squinting at him you don't really need Frankie to speak to know what's happening. You can feel your face and the tip of your ears burning because of the embarrassment. Last week you confessed to your best friend the things you were starting to feel for Fish and he has decided to force you to take a step ahead.

And seems like Santiago has done the same with him. But, does it mean he feels something for you too? You sigh rubbing your face trying to calm down the heat covering your skin, while he babbles random words. You see him waving a trembling hand between the two of you, perceiving he's as nervous as you are. That causes you to curve your lips up with a soft funny smile.

“Listen, we don't have to do this if you don't want to. I— I— I… shit”. He ends up grunting stroking his lips and his chin passing his palm over them, putting his terrified dark chocolate eyes from you. Frankie looks like a pudding and you can swear it's the sweetest thing you have ever contemplated. Too captivated by the way he has to raise his black hat from his head to brush his hair using only three fingers, before putting it on again, he takes your silence like a negative. “Lemme walk you home at least”.

His beg throws you back to reality, finding an insecure gaze looking for a positive this time. It's the first time since you met him two years ago that you watch him doubting, feeling unsure of himself. He has always given you the impression of being a cool-headed and confident man, but now Fish is quite the opposite.

“I'm hungry tho”. You reply as soon as you can react. “I just… think he did it on purpose. Making me wait for dinner, you know… So I wouldn't say no”.

Santi knows pretty well how to play his cards. It is his specialty. But that hasn't sound how you were expecting, as Frankie continues feeling ashamed, probably misunderstanding you.

“I me— mean, I wouldn't say no anyway”. You confess with a soft whisper, bowing your gaze down to his boots for a second. A brief second that seems enough to offer you a hand without noticing it.

Your heart races with the deep belief it could fly off from your chest when your cold fingers get laced with his warm ones. An electrifying shiver roams your body from your tiptoes to the top of your head, as he secures your hands together to come inside the restaurant. Only like a gentleman would do, he keeps open the door for you to walk in first, not loosening your connection at any time. For an instant, you can't help but fantasize about having real dates with Frankie, with him falling for you while continuing to believe he's just being polite and compensating you for Pope's ambush.

You lead your steps through the hallway between tables with old couches just in like the fifties, till the end of the place with the last table free close to the large window from where you can see the street. That's when, much to your regret, your hands are separated to take a seat in front of the other, occupying yours then with the menu to calm the nervousness shaking them briefly. You're going to kill Santi tomorrow. How does he dare to play dirty to you? And poor Frankie who —probably— could have a better plan than having dinner with you, if it wasn't for his friend.

The silence is installed soon around your table after the drinks are served, feeling the tension in the environment while you continue not knowing what to say or how to break the ice. You're about to tell him that he doesn't have to stay, just like he has said a couple of minutes before, but when you open your mouth nothing comes out; totally enraptured on the way he's looking at you waiting for something. You can't help but force another smile pursing your lips shamefacedly. Putting down your eyes over the menu between your hands, you try to pretend you're actually reading it, but your mind is busier on how the simple touch of his hand stole the air from your lungs.

“Pope told me you're learning Spanish”.

You have to hide your face for a second, cursing your damn best friend in silence before sticking your head out of the carte nodding with your cheek.

“Why?” Frankie sounds so curious that makes you think he maybe knows the real and main reason.

“Oh, uh… expand knowledge”.

You're a terrible liar and he doesn't need to be a genius to notice it.

“Tell me something in Spanish”. He asks cockily, placing his arms over his backrest.

You chuckle shaking your head this time while saying no once and once. But when he leans over the table, forearms against the edge of it, you have to gulp before choking on your own saliva like an idiot. The heat invading your whole anatomy again causes you to lick your lips, hoping that gesture calms you somehow.

“There's a… sentence that… I find funny for some re— reason”.

“Okay… Go'head”.

You make a short pause, finding some encouragement to utter it by remembering why you started to learn it. To impress him. To talk with him and call his attention.

“Juan come manzanas”.

(Juan eats apples).

Your accent is horrible, that's a fact, you knew that; but you feel more embarrassed when he remains silent for a second, breaking into a burst of loud laughter after not being able to contain it. You can't avoid a chuckle either, leaving in the background your shame, to focus on the beautiful melody his laugh is. You could spend all your life listening to it without abhorring it.

“Your pronunciation is awful”. He giggles adjusting his hat, raising a little the visor to look you better.

“Woah, thank you”. You reply with a humorous grimace drawn on your lips and a light sarcasm in your tone of voice. “I really appreciate it coming from you”.

“You're welcome”.

Shaking your head you begin to feel somewhat relaxed, finding a topic to talk about and joke about it so this situation is less awkward. You grab your beer to have a sip whilst he continues keeping visual contact with you, noticing he wants to add something but he doesn't dare. You know what it is, tilting your head as your eyes are narrowed.

“I don't trust you to be my teacher, surely you'll teach me the wrong things to make fun of me”.

“Meh…” He replies waving a hand jokingly, causing you to chuckle again.

As the night goes on and you discover more interesting things about him and his stage in the army, the dinner comes to an end and he insists you to walk you home. He doesn't want either to finish your conversation, talking about everything and nothing, in reality, just enjoying your voice and how excited you sound while talking about one of your hobbies or your favorite tv show. Just like you, he couldn't get tired of your company.

You reach your house sooner than expected, having been entertained and feeling this time your way back home has become shorter than ever. The nerves kick you again standing close to your porch not knowing what to say, what to do, or offer him a last drink. You'd sell your soul to the devil for five minutes more, but maybe you need to take it easy.

“Thanks for walking me”. You utter in a thin voice thread, playing with the keys between your fingers.

“It's been a good night”. Frankie opines then keeping a hand in a pocket and using the other to scratch a side of his neck. “I mean… we can repeat it whenever you want”.

Like another date? Has it been a date, actually? Or just two friends hanging out?

“Yeah! Yeah, sure. Sounds good to me”. You nod an instant before letting go a soft sight. “Uh… I should… you know”.

“Yeah, 'course. Good night, (Y/N)”.

“Good night, Fish”.

Offering him one last smile, you turn around to go upstairs your porch straight to the front door. But as soon as you introduce the key in the lock, you're interrupted.

“Hey!” You face him again, curious and intrigued, watching him coming closer towards you with his hat now in a hand. “How bad would be if… I kiss you?”

That's the most unexpected question you have ever heard, causing your brain to collapse momentarily until you realize it hasn't been a figment of your imagination. The smirk on his face curves shyly in the right corner of his lips, stopping his feet not too far from yours.

“Not… bad at all”. You giggle in response. What else could you say?

His mouth meets yours with a soft sweet touch. Just a touch, until they get used to each other. Slowly, Frankie places his hands on your lower back seeming afraid if you suddenly decide it's a terrible idea, and take a step back. This feeling disappears when yours land on both sides of his neck, securing a little more the grip and shortening the small distance between your chests. He tastes like beer and chocolate, after sharing a piece of brownie like dessert. For you, Frankie tastes like heaven. And without planning it, he needs the urge to slide his tongue between your lips to find yours. By inertia, your fingers tour his skin till being gently nailed in the back of his neck, breathing through your nose not wanting to finish the kiss.

As both of you swirl your tongues around the other, you become a little addicted, almost moaning inevitably against his lips when you have to stop not having enough air filling your lungs.

“How bad would it be if I ask you to stay?” You murmur unable to believe what you have just said.

“Not bad at all”. He doesn't hesitate, caressing the tip of your nose with his, wrapping his arms around your waist to hold you tighter and pepper your lips as you try to open the front door.

If you’ve liked it, lemme know in a comment, I’d really appreciate it. Reblogs are welcome too, so more people can enjoy it! ✨

GENERAL TAG LIST: @mayans-sauce @peoniarose @destynelseclipsa @band-psycho @myakai13 @petlaufeyson @-im-fantastic- @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rocketqueen @rosieposie0624 @ellyseveronica @Jessprins13 @diaryofkali @ravenmoore14 @starrynite7114 @kenbechillin @miahelen @monkeyluver4546 @sheeshgivemeabreak @jadesamhart @rawrlittlepanda-95

TRIPLE FRONTIER: @phoenixhalliwell @goldielocks2004

[rosesvioletshardy]

who cares about what they think - ben hardy

okay this is my first ben imagine so it took me a while to figure out how to write for him because i’m only used to writing fics and i haven’t written imagines for someone in a long time and i’m really sorry if it ends up being like shit

i also went for the classic trope but i couldn’t think of anything else so if someone else has written something with the same plot theirs’s is most likely better. 

also i’m sorry if i ended up writing some angst into it because i didn’t really know how else to write this 

EDIT: this has been in my drafts for a couple months maybe so i’m going to post this and see how it does also i’m trying out another way of writing and changing the way of i mention the reader

requested by @iambambi5 

# of words: 1,427

warnings: none really, just a little angst but mainly fluff

being in a relationship with someone who was 9 years older was somewhat new to you because you never been with someone that much older, yet alone someone who was also famous. you knew the risk that came with dating someone famous and it was still relatively new. Everyone knew ben was in a relationship but they’d never figure out that it was with someone 9 years his junior.

you and ben have kept the relationship on under wraps due to him being a private guy when it comes to relationships and the age difference. The only people who knew about it were your family, his family and a few of your guys friends. No one had a problem about it but they were a little hesitant about how the media would take it. ben has told you countless times that he doesn’t mind and that you shouldn’t be focused on what everyone is saying but it couldn’t get out of your head.

so one day the both of you needed groceries and decided to go together to buy them by trying not to show as much. Seeing that you both left at separate times and met up at the store, people still managed to find out who you were and what you did and took pictures of the two of you. You didn’t even notice it until about a week later where you were back at your apartment and you were scrolling through twitter and saw ben’s name trending. At first you might have thought “oh he’s probably been casted in a new movie or something” since he’s gone to a few auditions over the past few months, but you regretted clicking on the trend as soon as you saw it.

There have been pictures taken of you and ben together even though you both had disguises and couldn’t really tell who it was underneath, but the paparazzi and fans managed to figure that one out. You didn’t want to tell ben about what happened and thanked god he didn’t use social media and such, and what was going on, but he’ll find out sooner or later.

Currently he was in the home gym he set up working out and she was in their kitchen cooking but she didn’t realize that he had decided to go on instagram to see what was going on. Yeah he followed you but you made sure to make your account private and neither one of you posted about your relationship and if you did you never tagged each other or put their entire face. The most he’s done is post your hands while playing with frankie and that was it.

The messages were being poured in from your twitter to instagram to every social media people could find that you had. They weren’t all bad, some were nice and shipped the two of you but all your mind can focus on was all the negative things people were saying and how you were just a child and should be with someone your own age. You soon heard footsteps coming into the kitchen and quickly turned away and wiped away the stray tears that fell from you eyes to mask the point about what you saw.

“hey babe” ben told you as he kissed your temple and went to the cabinet to grab a cup for some water

“Hey, how was your workout?”

“You know the same as usual. Took a break and decided to just chill, see what was happening with the world and i saw something very interesting.” he said as he wiped some more sweat off

“Yeah what was it?” you asked with a shaky voice while cutting some vegetables before clearing your throat

“You know politics, people finding out about our relationship, new music, new movies the same old things.” he said before continuing

As soon as he mentioned the both of you, you stopped cutting up the peppers and turned around

“i know you saw it, just don’t lie to me when i ask you this. Have people sent you any messages or threatened you in any way?” he asked softly

You just stood there quiet a few seconds before putting the knife down and turning around to face him

“Yes.”

That was the one answer ben didn’t want to hear at all. He couldn’t believe that people were sending death threats to the woman he loves because people didn’t realize that he’s a human too and can have a normal relationship with someone who isn’t that exact age as him but still legal or someone who wasn’t famous.

“I was going to say something but i didn’t know when or how and it just all happened at once-” you were then cut off by ben who took you into a hug

“Listen people can talk crap about our relationship but i’m going to make sure that no one will talk crap about you. You are the love of my life and the best damn thing that has happened to me. I’m not going to let people on the internet who are probably laying in bed write all that shit about you because it’s not true. Can you show me the messages? If you don’t want to at the moment i understand. I just want to see what is happening and i want to make sure that nothing happens. If you don’t want me to and want to do it yourself, you can. You are one of the strongest people i know, if not the only person. You love everyone and every living animal and you don’t take shit from others when you are being put down.” he goes on as the both of you are now sitting on the ground backs against the counter, with your head on his chest, and his arms around you

“I love you so damn much.” he finished giving you a kiss on your head 

When ben finished his short speech, the two of you sat there for a few more minutes before you decided to get up and show him your phone. He took it and opened your instagram messages. He honestly didn’t know how people could send things that you were receiving. Ben saw the occasional messages congratulating the two of you but most of them were negative

You can tell he was angry by the way his jaw was clenching but soon softened up as you squeezed his hand. He had a million thoughts running through his head as he kept reading them and snapped back into reality as soon as you spoke up

“I want us to go public now. I know the kind of things that will happen, but it’s already out there but i feel like i’m ready and i can ignore everything that comes our way and i can take it.” you confidently told him

“If that’s what you want, we will. I just want what’s best for you and if this is what you think is best, then we’ll do it. I’ll always be there for you. Even if i physically can’t, i’m one phone call away.  Now, how about we go take a quick shower because i’m pretty sure i got my sweat onto you and we can finish making dinner then we’ll address everything.” he said holding out his pinkie to make a promise

You could only smile as you raised your pinkie to hook onto his as you both got back up to go to the bathroom.

“First one to the bathroom gets to choose the movie for movie night.” ben said as he started to run

“No fair you got a head start and you chose the movie last time.” you yelled running after him into the bathroom to find it empty before ben came up behind you and picked up of from your waist causing you to scream and him to laugh

“You’re such a child.” you turning around and hitting his chest

“Yes, but i love you and you deserve all the love tonight even if that means we have you watch your movies” he said

“Yes my movies that i know you secretly love” you tell him as you turned the shower on

“Just for that, I'm taking the good blanket.” 

“You wouldn’t”

“Yeah i wouldn’t i’m too in love to take something away from you.” he said kissing your neck as you started to turn red

“And i’m too in love with you to ever be mad”  you tell him giving him a kiss

[champion-of-thedas]

The Negative Character Arc of Vito Scaletta Part 2

The first act of a story is structured as exposition, meant to establish relationships, the world they live in, etc. It usually covers about the first fourth of a story. For a negative character arc, it is, naturally, the set up of the story, but it also firmly establishes the character’s Truth and Lie.

Beat 1: The Hook

The hook is important due to the way that it introduces the audience to the character’s everyday life. For a disillusionment arc specifically, it introduces how the Lie that your character believes impacts their life and creates conflict between themselves and the people around them. This is often where we come to understand the character’s Normal World (as referenced in the last part). 

Vito’s hook is plain to see. We are introduced to it through the prologue and The Old Country, seeing how the idea of Vito’s Normal World and his Lie are established through his reflections on his father and how his desire for influence the like Don Carlo has develops. I won’t go to far into that particular nugget, since I did that in the introduction. 

The hook extends into the first part of Home Sweet Home. We see Vito coming back to his “Normal World” after the war. Just in case it hasn’t already been established, let’s go over what the Lie and Normal World are for him.  The Normal World that he lives in is one where those in the system are at the whims of those that run it, so the only way to achieve any sort of happiness is to run the system or be part of a hierarchy that runs it. For him specifically, he’s seen multiple occasions in which people that run the system can do ‘great��� things and are allowed to do them (Don Carlo). Vito’s lie is that, in order to be fulfilled, he needs to have influence, and the group he has seen the most from in that regard is the mob. This is probably more of a cultural thing (being Sicilian), but it is something nonetheless.

During his first night back, we have two examples of where Vito’s Lie impacts his normal life and creates conflict. These are the parts of Home Sweet Home that I refer to. The first incident is with Joe where there is a brief bit of tension when Vito tells Joe that he will have to go back to the war, but Joe gets him out of it. How? By using the influence that Joe has accrued in the time in which Vito was away. This particular act is important for multiple reasons, but mostly in how adult it makes Joe seem. He knows a guy, he can take care of the issue. (This will be important in the next beat). Just like that, Joe frees Vito but assures his friend that it doesn’t really make Vito beholden to him. I’m going to quickly mention it now, but Joe also goes through his own character arc in the story, a stunted positive change arc. I mean stunted, because his story cuts off before it reaches a resolution (I’m pretty sure he got “killed off” right after the midpoint/during the second pinch point aka his act two). That doesn’t really have bearing in this section, but I’ll probably mention it when it becomes relevant.

The second incident occurs basically during the entire night he spends at home, starting with the moment he is asked to pray at the table and up until his mother asks him to see Papalardo the next morning. He is seeing parts where he doesn’t fit, consistently reminded of the life is father built, the one he doesn’t want. His mother is pushing his father’s Lie on him and rejecting his own. She’s not trying to be smothering to him, but this is just how she knows the world works. It is simply too bad that it isn’t how Vito’s does.

Beat 2: The Inciting Event

In a normal story, this is the character’s call to adventure, the way the story really hits it off. For a negative character arc, it takes on another purpose. It is meant to show the first hint for our character (and the audience) that the lie is untrue. This also showcases the main conflict of the story. This hint, by the way, is meant to be subtle. It’s not supposed to hit the character in the face.

The inciting event for Vito occurs, at least in my opinion, a combination of when he wakes up and decides that he needs to get his own place and, more importantly, the moment he leaves his mama’s apartment and sees Frankie being harassed by the man their family owes money too. Yes it does blend in a bit with the hook, but storytelling is rarely cut and dry. Keep in mind that Vito left for war a teenager and came back as a young man; seeing his childhood room is a stark reminder for this and pushes him towards the idea that he needs to be an adult and live on his own. Remember how earlier I said that Joe seemed like an adult? A hallmark of maturity (at least where I live) is being able to take care of problems by yourself: scheduling your first doctor appointment, doing your taxes for the first time, having your own place, etc. etc. Joe was able to make Vito’s obligation to the government to go away and allow him to go home, a very different Joe than the one that Vito left and in direct contrast to his father that probably couldn’t rub two pennies together. Yes, I am comparing Joe to Vito’s father, no it’s not about Daddy issues. I mean, it is. But it isn’t? Let’s move on. Anyway, this means that Joe knows what Vito has to do to be an adult, one that isn’t stuck in his mother’s house and working for the man his father worked for.

And then he is spurred into further action when he sees Frankie being hassled about the money that their father owes. This reinforces the Normal World for Vito, as his father took out a lot of money and now his surviving family is stuck paying it back for him, but also gives him the opportunity to be the adult and prove his father’s Lie wrong. His father with all of his hard work had to borrow money from these people, but now Vito was going to use his way to not only pay back the money the Scalettas owed, but also get more money and become independent.

Beat 3: The First Plot Point

This is the first real consequential choice the character makes to show them that their old ways are ineffective. This is what leads the character into the next act and is the threshold the character crosses that prevents the rest of the story from taking place. Now, they will not see the consequences of this act at first, but it will show itself later. 

For Vito, this one is interesting. It could be argued that the rest of Home Sweet Home qualifies as this as it is Joe introducing Vito into the world of the rest of the game, but BUT, I disagree. Honestly, I think it sort of works in as the hook and inciting incident in a way. The only reason this part is probably WHERE it is is because of tutorial reasons. I’m not saying that it doesn’t make sense, but there is a more thematic and appropriate moment coming that fits this act better: going to see Papalardo and what occurs on the docks in Enemy of the State.

Even after going to see Joe, Vito still agrees to go see Papalardo and try and work at the docks for his mama. He’s stuck in this liminal space where he’s not truly embraced his Lie yet, but it’s still there lingering. So, he goes to see Papalardo (from this moment on he will be called Derek) and gets a job moving crates for him. After some time, he makes his choice and refuses to move another crate (I think I only managed about five in my playthrough before he just stopped). Steve comes to see what the fuss is and Vito tells him off before using Joe’s influence inadvertently and getting a better paying job, one that he likes better too, out of it. His choice, both to stop working the warehouse job and to take Steve up on a job that is explicitly exploiting the regular workers there, is the first plot point and one that will come back around in the third act.

[dickgraysonisnothereforthis]

I Didn’t Mistake Your Finger for the Moon, I Just Chose to Look at You Instead

Tim Drake x Reader Oneshot

The title comes from zen buddhism (maybe chinese? i’m sorry I don’t know), the idea is I am pointing my finger at the moon to show you the moon don’t look at my pointed finger, look where I’m pointing.

Heavily inspired by the play Frankie and Johnnie in the Claire de Lune

***

You can’t believe it’s only 8:30pm, just two hours into the night and you’re already bored out of your skull. Around you, the huge ballroom swirls with sparkling socialites keeping themselves busy by incessantly talking shit and guzzling Bruce Wayne’s alcohol. Everybody has their lips to someone’s ear and a glass in their hand, except for you, which is quite stupid on your part. But that’s why you’re at the bar. 

Behind you, the positively charming laughs of the Wayne Gala’s guests dot the conversations that spill out through the room in concentric circles, rippling over each other in waves that ebb and flow right up until they reach you. Then they stop short, leaving you alone and trying to order a drink from a bartender who seems to be too busy to chat you up out of pity.

Not that you’d do anything with her, obviously. But still. Some attention would be nice.

Christ, you were so shit at knowing what to do with yourself at these parties. You’d think you’d have them figured out by now, but no such luck. Your funeral.

“Hey, have you seen Tim?”

You turn to face the speaker and your eyes fall on Dick Grayson, dressed gorgeous in a sharp suit complete with a dark blue bow tie. He looks incredible, but then again, he usually does. And miracle of miracles, the folks around you are now eyeing you up, trying to figure out if it’s worth skydiving into your conversation to get in a word with Bruce Wayne’s heir. Dick does that to people, has the sort of happy, positive demeanor that makes folks want desperately to talk to him, to be part of his group. You’ll probably never get used to it. Or to how beautiful he is.

“Yeah.” Yeah, you know where Tim is. You resist the urge to point across the ballroom, motioning with your chin instead. “He’s over there, schmoozing with some LexCorp folks.”

“Schmoozing? With LexCorp?” Dick’s face takes on a slightly disgusted hue in the light of the chandeliers.

You shrug. “Schmoozing, making thinly veiled threats, planting the seeds for some light corporate espionage, but not the sort anyone can prove. You know Tim.”

Dick chuckles at that. “I guess I do.” He takes a step away from you, then doubles back. “Are you all right, over here? You look a bit...”

“You can say lonely, Dick, it’s okay,” you say with a bit of bite, too many teeth in your voice, but he’s not wrong. “I’m fine, you don’t need to babysit me.”

His eyebrows raise. “Jeez, y/n, I didn’t mean--”

You cut him off. “No, it’s fine Dick, I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry.” You press a hand to the bridge of your nose and try to take deep breaths. Starting a fight with your boyfriend’s oldest brother is not exactly on your to-do list for the evening. “I am a bit lonely, but it’s cool, I get Tim back in...” you check your watch, a cheap analogue that clashes something awful with your cheesed-up attire. “Eight in a half minutes. Then he’s mine for at least an hour.”

Dick quirks his lips in a half-smile. “You guys time how long he spends doing W.E. business at these galas? That’s--”

“Adorable? Or just anal?” Try as you might, you can’t keep the cynicism from spreading thick over your tone.

“I was actually going to say very Tim,” he says back warmly. You grin at him, bad mood abandoning you for the moment. “It was his idea. Wouldn’t be much of a date if we didn’t spend any time together.”

Dick laughs again. “No, I suppose it wouldn’t.” Across the room, Tim turns away from the circle of business harpies and shoots you an apologetic smile. Dick must’ve clocked it as well. “Maybe Tim’ll turn knight-in-shining-armor and rescue you,” he suggests.

You wrinkle your nose. “I doubt it. As much as I don’t like it, the business stuff needs to get done.”

Dick eyes Tim’s back. “Yeah, something tells me you’d be the one doing the rescuing.” He clears his throat. “Well, I hate to be rude, but I gotta skip out on you.” Dick’s down-to-earth manner of speaking always surprises you, especially because he manages to get away with it at these swanky events. When you do it everyone seems to look at you sideways. “Need to go find Damian,” Dick explains further. “If he’s not antagonizing your boyfriend, he may be up to something worse.”

You nod in agreement. “Go get ‘em, Tiger.”

He sighs. “Yeah, wish me luck.” And then Dick makes his exit, leaving you with seven and a half minutes to wallow before Tim comes back.

You chide yourself a bit, picking up the Gin and Tonic that the bartender had just placed in front of you. Were you seriously going to wallow in self pity at a gala half of Gotham would kill to attend? With Tim Drake as your date? Hundreds of girls and quite a few boys probably daydream about being in your place, especially after he made the Forbes Thirty under Thirty list last month. Still, his spot on the list doesn’t change the fact that exactly no one at this party, striking Dick and the bartender, has said a single word to you.

You stifle a sigh. It isn’t your fault Gotham’s socialites always prove to be uninterested in Timothy Drake’s thoroughly middle-class girlfriend. They had found you just fascinating when the relationship was new and Tim’s move of dating so far below his class had actually made headlines. But, six months later, your novelty had worn clean off. God, you wished you had someone to talk to. You were feeling so small.

Swallowing a sip of G&T, you think back to your first gala at the Manor. The glitter and glamour of the evening had left you breathless, whereas now it’s making you sick. Some parts of the evening never seem to go stale, though. You still love playing dress up in gorgeous clothes and parading around with your boyfriend, who was also dressed up in gorgeous clothes. Tim usually bought your dresses for these events, since there was no way on the planet you could afford them. You’d gotten used to Tim being stupid rich early in your relationship, and it doesn’t bother you that you can never match him in the money department. 

Occasionally, Tim likes to spoil you, although neither of you are too keen on outrageous gifts that are ultimately useless. He tends to avoid getting you things that are overpriced and unnecessary. (Cheap and unnecessary is where you operate. The two of you are currently having a competition over who could get the other the smallest, most useless gift for under two dollars. Your last gift to him had been a yellow plastic shovel that fits in the palm of your hand)

Tim doesn’t like buying expensive, frivolous things on principle, and you don’t like receiving them, also on principle. But if you’re going to attend these galas, you need an expensive dress point-blank, otherwise you’ll stick out like a sore thumb. And you want to attend, you want to be Tim’s girlfriend, public appearances and all. So Tim just has to buy you the dresses, which you secretly love because they’re gorgeous, and you have to accept them, because you can’t attend the gala without them. It’s a neat way for Tim to give you something expensive and make sure you’ll have a need for it. Plus, you know he loves seeing you wear the clothes he’s bought you.

Tonight, however, you’re not wearing one of Tim’s Vera Wang’s or Alexander McQueen’s. You’ve opted instead on something you’d bought yourself, a bridesmaid’s dress you’d worn to a friend’s wedding earlier this year. It just about fits in with everyone else’s attire, and besides, the dress was expensive. You wanted to wear it at least twice. A great plan, except it isn’t as beautiful as some of the other dresses in the room tonight. You’ve recognized more than one from a runway fashion account you follow on Instagram. Nice as your dress may be, it can’t compare with any of those, and every time you see an exceptionally beautiful gown you wonder what you were thinking, wearing a dress like this.

The negative buzzing in your ears dissipates as you catch Tim’s eye again. He’s got the same stupid look on his face he’d worn when he picked you up this evening. Like he’d been punched but he didn’t exactly mind.

“Are you sure you’re my date for tonight?” he’d whispered, after doing a cartoonish double-take at the door of your apartment, because he really is a good boyfriend. “I’m not sure other people will believe it.”

“Of course they will,” you’d scoffed, cheeks glowing at the compliment. “We look good together. You’re pretty stunning yourself.”

He’d look down at his own clothes with a worried expression. “Really?” Following your advice and urging, Tim had stepped out of his comfort zone tonight and was sporting a patterned tux. It’s a dark blue checked with thin black stripes, waistcoat and bow-tie to match. “I think I look like Al Capone.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you look very dapper.” You had taken his hand, then, smiling up at him and leading him out of your apartment. “Charming, even.”

“If Jason’s there he’ll make fun of me. Damian definitely will.”

“They were going to do that anyway. And besides, who cares? I think you look great.”

“I guess you’re the only one that matters.”

“Damn straight.”

He really does look incredible tonight, you think to yourself as you check him out from your position at the bar. Nothing short of beautiful, with the long lines of the tux sitting pretty on his sinuous, willowy limbs and gorgeous frame. His shoulders are holding strong under the fine material of his jacket, and presiding over everything are his sharp cheekbones and even sharper eyes. Which, you note in satisfaction, are now fixed on you as Tim extricates himself from the suits and makes his way to the bar.

“Is this seat taken?” he asks, plopping down next to you and casually hooking a foot around your ankle.

“Nope,” you smile happily, thrilled to be spending time with him again. “I was saving it for you, and as you can see, I had to really fight to keep it free.” You motion around yourself to the people ignoring you. 

Tim winces. “I’m sorry, y/n, if I could do anything--”

“Stop, stop,” you wave him silent. “Don’t worry about it. You’re here now, it’s okay,” you reassure him.

“I don’t like that you end up spending so much time alone at these things,” he says, wrapping an arm around you. “If you even think I’m going to let you come to this thing by yourself,” you say, shaking your head. “Some of the other ones, maybe, but if I don’t make an appearance at The Wayne Gala, capital T, W, and G, the public will think I’m out of the picture.”

“Defending your territory, huh?” Tim grins sidelong at you. “Keeping the society pages off my back, more like.” You shift in your seat, sensing an opportunity. “But maybe I am defending my territory, hmm?” You give him an obvious once over, let lust show in your gaze. “Maybe you’re too pretty to let out of my sight.”

He flushes, color overrunning his cheeks and spilling down his neck and making him look even more edible. You let out a breath. “God, Tim, I could just...” you lean over, easily catching his lips with yours. Holding him there for a just a second, you run your tongue quick over his bottom lip and then pull back, spending a few moments just looking at him, with him looking back. 

You wait for some of the sparkling energy to fade before you speak again. “It’s important to me that you know I’m here to support you as acting CEO.”

He laughs at that, spell broken. “I know sweetheart.” He turns from you to order a drink. “I’m very proud of you,” you say to his back. He rolls his eyes at you over his shoulder.

The bartender makes the drink inside of twenty seconds, because Tim Drake asked for it, and then your boyfriend spends a few more moments staring at you, taking the glass in his hand and eyeing you over the rim.

You meet his gaze. “What are you thinking?” He presses a finger to his ear. “Going off comms,” he murmurs, then surreptitiously fishes the device out of his ear and stows it in his pocket. If you hadn’t known what to look for you would swear he was just running his fingers through his hair and then brushing some lint off of his suit.

“If I’m honest, I’ve spent the last twenty minutes fantasizing about eating you out.”

...what?

It takes a moment for his words to connect to your brain. Then--

“Tim!” you squawk, eyes darting around to make sure no one had overheard you. “You can’t just say that to me in public!”

His eyes meet yours, he looks unimpressed. Tim never has any patience for your prudishness whenever he brings up sex with other people around. “What can I say? The LexCorp people were boring,” and now he’s the one looking you over, eyes slowly working up and down your form. You shiver under his attention. “That’s a very pretty dress you’re wearing, y/n, I think it would look great bunched up around your hips.”

God, confidence is such an irresistible look on him. Despite your better judgment, you decide to play along. Leaning closer, you let one hand ghost over his crotch, cupping him for half a moment as you say “and how do you think the dress will look on your bedroom floor?”

He gasps when you touch him, then smiles brilliantly, eyes shining. You really, really shouldn’t be encouraging him, but you can’t help it. You love him like this, you love the unrelenting force of his desire. You love how much he wants you. 

With Tim, you’ve found that once the idea of sex gets into his head and he sees that you’re game, he’s like a dog with a bone, gnawing and gnawing at you. There’s no stopping him in pursuit to get you into his bed, or car, or the nearest supply closet. And you always find yourself indulging him, because the sex is usually good, but the man himself is even better. You delight in seeing Tim aroused, because as soon as that switch is flipped, the self-control that Tim rigidly keeps in place disappears, and he becomes hypnotically impulsive with his emotions. It took some time for him to get the barriers down, for him to let loose around you, but now he allows himself to be everything all at once. An aroused Tim is playful, awkward, confident, shy, ridiculous, and enthusiastic. You never know what you’re going to get with him, and sometimes he flits from one affect to the other between moments, leaving you breathless.

And you’re more than happy to provide an arena for Tim to let loose, because the only time your boyfriend allows himself to be anything less than perfect is when he’s in your arms. Control rules Tim’s life in the form of some probably unhealthy idolatrous god. As he’s explained to you several times, yes, he actually does need to be this tightly wound, because if he makes a mistake he’ll lose clout at WE. Or he’ll be too slow at night. People will die (he will die.) Insert answer here. 

Which is all true, but it doesn’t mean Tim can’t take a fucking break once in a while. And that’s where you come in. Your boyfriend spends his whole life striving for perfection and punishing himself when he doesn’t reach it, but when he’s with you, he can be anything he wants. 

And one of the wonderful things about sleeping with Tim is so often you get to see everything he wants. Once he’s finally lost control, once you’ve convinced him to put the walls down, he’s like a kid in a candy store. He can do anything, and so he usually does everything.

“Christ,” he breathes in your ear, head still in your fleeting touch, one arm coming to rest on your back. “I think you’ve given me a semi.”

“That,” you say in a sing-song voice, absolutely delighted, “sounds like a ‘you’ problem.” You turn and pretend to walk away, but Tim catches hold of your arm, reeling you back towards him. “You can’t leave now, y/n,” he pleads, eyes dancing. “People are going to look at my crotch and see I’ve got a hard-on, and I can’t endure Cass making fun of me again. C’mon, y/n,” he pouts at you. “I’m your damsel in distress. Save me from the bullies. Dance with me so no one will see.”

You roll your eyes, but come to stand in front of him nonetheless, letting him lead you to the center for the room with his hands on your waist. This isn’t the first time a gala has bored Tim to sexual frustration. “People will still be able to see your crotch,” you argue. “We’ll just dance really, really close together.” As if to prove his point, he suddenly jerks your hips to his, and you all but fall against him. “The song is too fast for this kind of slow-dancing,” you say into his neck, false protests muffled by his suit.

He leans back to make eye contact with you as the two of you start swaying. “That doesn’t matter. We’re young lovers, y/n,” he reminds you seriously. “They’ll forgive us.”

“Young lovers, hmm?” You’re struck again by his confidence tonight, how alluring it is. It’s rare that he’s this sure of himself, but he wears it so well when he is.

“That’s right.” The two of you are silent for a moment, and you contemplate leaning your head against his chest. “You really do look beautiful in that dress, y/n,” Tim says quietly, all joking gone from his tone.

Your cheeks heat at the compliment. “Thank you.” And then, because you’re immature, too, and because Tim isn’t the only one who can flash his sex drive in public, you impulsively say “I bet you can’t guess what I’m wearing underneath.”

This is probably a mistake, but what the hell. You want your boyfriend just as much as he wants you, maybe more.

Tim doesn’t even wait two full seconds before responding. “See, I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I bet I can.” You weren’t expecting him to be so quick on the uptake, your mistake for thinking his boredom hadn’t already driven him to tackle this particular problem.

“It’s warm enough out that you’re not wearing any tights or pantyhose, so the suspender sets are out.”

“The suspender sets are out,” you repeat solemnly, already excited by this new game you’re playing. “Well, hang on, maybe I just wore a set without the suspenders.”

Tim is quick to shake his head. “No, you hate doing that, you’d rather just wear separate set altogether. It’s a set without the suspenders.”

You let out a low whistle. “Got me pegged there, detective.” You see an opportunity, and waggle your eyebrows. “Maybe I’ll have you pegged, later.”

He falters in the slow waltz he’s leading you through. “Really not helping with the semi here, y/n” he complains, and he’s right, you can feel it pressing lightly against you. You roll your eyes. “Fine, let’s go back to you guessing what lingerie I’m wearing.”

He nods, only half joking. Tim loves a puzzle. “Thank you. So none of the suspenders.”

“So none of the suspenders,” you repeat again, and offer him a winning smile when he glares at you over it.

Explanatory monologue in full swing, he says “You normally like to match your dress, but this one’s black, which isn’t very helpful.” All of a sudden his attention shifts and comes to rest on your face. “Are you going to tell me if I get it right, or will I just have to wait and see?”

“What would make it better for you, baby?” you ask, voice sultry as you slide your hips against his.

“I have absolutely no idea. Is it the red one?” 

“Nope!”

“Damn. I love the red one.”

“I know you do, sweetheart.”

He pouts at you, but quickly perks up again. “Here, hang on, I’m going to risk exposing my erection so I can get a better view of your back,” and suddenly you’re spinning, once, twice, three times, before Tim pulls you back to his chest and dips you as the song ends. You’re panting a bit in surprise, and from your position suspended in his strong arms, you can feel one of his hands pawing around at your hip, smoothing over the fabric of your dress.

He pulls you upright as another song begins, a grimace on his handsome face. You reach up to brush some of his hair out of his eyes. “That was inconclusive,” he mutters.

You glance over his shoulder. “I think Bruce definitely got a good look at what’s going on down south.” Your boyfriend’s father is looking rather pointedly at the ground, a pained look on his face.

“I could barely see the lines of the set through your dress,” Tim complains, and then adds “Bruce’ll get over it. Or he won’t. Whatever,” he says dismissively. “Last week I walked in on Selina blowing him under his desk, so now we’re even. What’s way more important is that I couldn’t see anything, why couldn’t I see anything?”

“Aww, poor baby,” you tease.

“Shut up,” he mumbles, before brightening a bit. “I mean, it wasn’t a total loss. I did get a great view of your ass. It still looks fantastic, by the way.”

“Thanks for the update.”

He keeps going. “I didn’t see the lines, but I did get a good feel of your underwear at your hip.” He plants his tongue between his teeth, eyes closed in concentration as you sway delicately to the new song. “I didn’t feel a strap, so I can rule out some of the thongs.” You hum in agreement, arms coming up to wrap securely around his torso in an extended embrace. “It isn’t either of the black ones, or the nice blue one, is it?”

“No, sweetheart, it’s not.”

“Hn.” He shifts his arms, and you feel his slight hand flitting about at your hip again. He soon gives up, discouraged. “The material of your dress is too thick, I can’t feel anything through it.”

You decide to throw him a bone. “I’ll give you a hint: I’m actually wearing another color besides black, and the set matches it.”

Tim frowns, stepping back from you for a moment to look down at your feet. “Your shoes are black too, what are you talking about?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do you want me to ruin it for you?”

“No, let me think,” Tim says, and goes silent, eyes shut. You study him as the actual detective comes out to play. His eyes snap open again, and you clock his gaze going for your throat and ears. No necklace, but you are wearing gold earrings. Tim ignores them and takes your hand in his, examining your rings. He knows you too well to ask whether the set is gold or silver, that isn’t your style. He’s getting much closer with the rings though, and then his sharp exhale is ghosting through your fingers and his eyes are meeting yours again. You give him a proud smile.

“Good solve, Timmy.” He kisses the pad of your index finger. “Nail polish, y/n?”

“Nail polish,” you confirm.

“Why?”

You pretend to think it over, letting your eyes go wide. “Well, I just thought it would look nice, you know? My hand right over the panties, maybe even inside them, if you wanted me to do any of the work on my own.”

His eyes just about bug out of his head at that, and then he shakes his smile back and forth, impressed. Your answering grin is knife sharp. “You’ve got me right where you want me, don’t you, y/n? What am I going to do with you?”

“Anything you want,” you whisper, winding your arms around his neck. “That’s sort of the point. We can get out of here right now.”

“You know I would love, love, to do that,” Tim says, running his hands down your back, “but there’s supposedly a deal going down at 9:30 that I kind of need to be there for.”

“Well, then,” you murmur, “you’ll just have to suffer for another twenty minutes.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” he says drily. The two of you sway in silence for a few minutes before he speaks again. “Hold on, y/n, something just occurred to me.”

“Yes, Tim?”

“Your nail polish is purple, but you don’t own any sets that color. What gives?”

You raise your eyebrows at him. He looks at you for a few moments before his face smooths out again. “You really have it in for me tonight, don’t you? It’s a new set?”

“It’s a new set,” you confirm.

“And I bet you look just stellar in purple,” he says to himself, a desperate edge to his voice. 

“You know very well I look good in everything.” You glance downwards. “How are you doing there, Timmy?”

“Fuck off,” he says happily. “Is it lace?”

“Tim, sweetheart, of course it’s lace.”

Your boyfriend groans, then freezes in place. You look at him questioningly. “I’m running a cost/benefit analysis on me skipping out on this deal.”

“Give it to Tam,” you suggest.

“Give it to Tam,” he agrees. “Yeah, alright, let’s get the fuck out of here.”

You let out a delighted laugh, following him in the direction of his old bedroom in the manor. Behind you, you dimly hear the orchestra finish their song. There are a few moments of silence while you make your way to the exit, and then you hear a few forlorn notes on the piano that have you turning around and calling out “Tim!”

“Whoa, y/n, where are you--”

“Tim! Tim it’s Claire de Lune, they’re playing Claire de Lune, we have to stay!” You drag him back to the dance floor.

“But,” he tries to argue, “but y/n, we were going to--”

“Tim.” You stand your ground. “It’s Claire de Lune. Please?”

He mumbles under his breath but takes you back into his arms regardless, like the good boyfriend that he is. You adore the Claire de Lune, and he’s probably reasoned to himself that no amount of arguing or pleading could tear you from the melody spinning lazily through the room.

He’s still going to complain about it, though. “Claire de Lune, huh? I can’t believe I lived to see Twilight cock-blocking me again.”

You poke him in the side. “Some of us first heard Debussy at the Gotham Philharmonic and some of us read about him in Stephanie Meyers’ blockbuster paranormal romance and googled Claire de Lune on the family computer in their Dad’s office, okay? The important thing is we’re both here, and we can both appreciate it, so shut up.”

Tim shuts up. You smile at him, and let your eyes fall closed. The slow melody envelops you like mist and settles on your skin, resting easy in your inner ear. A small part of you anticipates the notes before the pianist actually plays them, and you find yourself nodding when they finally escape from her fingers. Her performance is perfect, she isn’t messing around trying to improve Debussy’s masterwork, just picking her way through it, measure by measure. You take deep, even breaths as a sense of calm permeates your system. Eyes still closed, you let the music relax you, content to wade dreamily in its cool comfort. 

After about a minute, Tim clears his throat. “Y/n,” he says gently, “look.” You open your eyes and follow Tim’s pointed finger to one of the floor-length windows, gasping out loud when you see the stunning full moon. It sits in an overcast sky, fog and smog and clouds pressing against it like an embrace. The thin ropey clouds that drift across its slouched figure are reflecting its yellow light and giving it a warm, pearly corona, a halo. You stare at it openly for a few seconds, admiring the bone moon in its sky armchair.

Your attention drifts back to Tim’s finger, arm still hanging loosely in front of you, and then to the man himself. The ballroom lights are low enough that you can imagine the moonlight reflecting off of Tim, too, that he too is catching some of its cotton shine on his face. You’re awfully lucky to be with someone who takes the time to point out a particular moon among of a string of nights with particular moons, and you tell him so. Tim’s smile is quiet, but he presses his forehead to yours, where it stays for the rest of the song.

When it ends Tim leans back to smile at you again. You smile back, feeling filled up with the moon and the music and him. Catching his hand in your own, you start in the direction of the grand staircase that leads up to his old bedroom. Tim stops you by pulling on your arm lightly, before turning and walking towards the doors that will take you outside.

You look at him quizzically. “Can we go to your apartment?” he murmurs. “We’ve been in my world this whole night, now I want to be in yours.”

You smile softly before leaning up to kiss him, quick and light. He squeezes your hand as he leads you through the room, and then suddenly you’re outside, breathing cool, almost autumn air while you wait for Tim to get a car sorted out. You turn your eyes upward to meet the moon again, the ghost of Claire de Lune still drifting through your head.

Tim breaks your reverie by calling your name, and you follow him into the back of a car. After directing the driver to your apartment, Tim hands you an earbud. You put it in your left ear while Tim puts the other in his right, and together you listen to Claire de Lune again as the car makes it’s way through a Gotham that’s soft and shiny with moonlight. Three repetitions of Debussy later you’re standing in front of your apartment, Tim wrapping his arms around you as you fiddle with your keys, unlock your door, and lead him to your bedroom.

Later, after you’re spent twice over and Tim has made good on his fantasy of opening you up with his mouth, Tim shifts in the bed and slides himself around you, lips at your ear.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

You sigh happily. “Mmm.”

“I asked the orchestra to play Clair de Lune.”

You raise yourself up on your elbows at that, leaning over him with a meaningful look into his starry eyes. You’re sure there are stars in yours, too. 

“Yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

You lie back down. “Thank you.”

His hand comes up to stroke your hair. “Mmm.”

[danwhobrowses]

One Piece 1000 - 10 Confessions as a One Piece Fan

Although we did the Initial Thoughts a week ago (a long week ago, damn) which you can read here I wanted to do something for the official release of One Piece’s 1000th Chapter At first it started out to be ‘10 things I wanna ask Oda that I don’t think we’ll ever know’ but I couldn’t think of 10, then I was gonna do a General opinion post about it, but didn’t want it to come off too negative. So I am settling on a confessions post, which will have elements of these anyway.

So as we have a happy 1000, let’s talk about some stuff I usually don’t get to talk about in One Piece

Note: There will probably be spoilers so make sure you’re up to date

10. Late Beginnings I think the first confession I have to have is that despite being older than One Piece I am unfortunately not a ‘Day One’ fan. In fact I think I mainly got into One Piece around mid-Whole Cake Island arc, before I had of course known about One Piece, it was a ‘Big Three’ anime after all but the most I knew about it was that they had a guy named Luff-y and another called Zorro, and it was about ‘Pirates who can’t swim’. My curiosity only developed when in a youtube deep-dive of anime clips I kept being recommended One Piece clips, and decided to give a couple a go. Most of them were Paradise arc stuff from the anime, the dub voices were mostly atrocious so I stuck to sub. I was happily surprised about the amount of fun and emotional weight these clips gave me, which led me to check where One Piece was as of current and backtrack from there (Ironically I did the same with Beastars). I did eventually get caught up around the time of the Mafia Meeting and I’ve kept up with each chapter since.

9. I mostly still prefer the Pre-Timeskip looks When I first felt this I thought it to be pretty controversial, nowadays not so much. I understand that Oda wanted to change the look for many characters but some of them did feel like a downgrade. I think the ones who got it worst was Franky, I think it’s the bulbous shoulders, Franky was no stranger to body horror from Enies Lobby to Sabaody but I kinda preferred that he still had a lot of his humanity rather than looking like an action figure. Otherwise I think Robin, Nami and Chopper had it bad, maybe Brook too but his was more fashion than design; the women in general took heavy hits by Oda’s proportion design - I mean I get it boobs are nice but proportions are what make them better - but Robin also underwent a skin color change in the anime, who pre-timeskip shaded her skin darker than in the manga and corrected it to match the manga, I think most of us would’ve preferred Robin to have kept the darker skin tone and possibly even the fringe, Robin’s hairstyle (and her fashion in general) can be hit and miss. I go to and fro about Nami, other than the general waist and bust adjustments I think it fits her character to use her sexuality a bit, she was no stranger to that pre-Timeskip, sometimes though I can’t tell whether I preferred her with short or long hair (Short was definitely better on Nojiko), I do think though that Oda could have her show less skin, she is still very pretty in outfits such as Water 7, Thriller Bark and even her fake pirate disguise in the early chapters/episodes. Finally with Chopper I think it was a bad move to alter the hat, that was a memento from his father figure Hiriluk, it’d be like if Luffy altered his straw hat or Zoro replacing Wado Ichimonji, I do also feel that the design for Chopper’s points while easier to draw don’t look as good, I think a lot of it is the scruff, or lack thereof in favour of smoothness, Walk Point is fine but Heavy Point, Guard Point and Horn Point seem less threatening, Monster Point especially too, in Enies Lobby he looked like a cave painting of menace and destruction, now he’s smoother and his scruff lighter so it’s not as good. The rest of the designs I’m quite fine with though.

8. I wish some markings stuck as well Tattoos and Scars seem to be optional in the One Piece world sometimes, unless it’s branded in molten heat like the Dragon’s hoof, Sun Pirates logo or an attack from Sakazuki. While Nami’s redesigned tattoo has stuck around and Luffy and Zoro’s scars persist, they are mainly character reminders/mysteries for huge moments in the story, and I kinda wish that some of the Straw Hats had littler markings, not just scars either. For instance, the Alabasta X on the arm, I really wish that stayed on each of the Alabasta characters’ arms since it was a symbol of friendship with Vivi, I also wish that Luffy kept the 3D2Y mark on his arm. In terms of scars though it would’ve been nice to see the characters a bit more battle-worn; Zoro’s ankle scars from Mr. 3 have faded and frankly he should be covered in little and long scratches given his fights with Mr. 1 and 2 years of Mihawk Training, Nami’s shoulder scar is hidden completely by her tattoo and she has no scars on her hand (from fake stabbing Usopp) or foot (from blocking Miss Doublefinger), Usopp himself could’ve used some small scratches because lord knows how there’s even still bones in his nose plus he was in murder island for 2 years, Chopper could at least have a small bald patch from when his shoulder was impaled and burned by Shura’s fire lance too, other than that there’s just Jimbei’s potentially missing shoulder scar from Marineford, though Oda has kept it obscured a lot so maybe that is still there. I understand why Oda doesn’t or forgets to, but it would’ve been nice if we lived in a vacuum of no time limits and whatnot.

7. Dead End Adventure is my favourite One Piece film I don’t know what it is, but Dead End Adventure just gives me the most fun out of the One Piece films. It has a good side plot and the side character Shuraiya was a blast of a character. Granted, Gaspard wasn’t too good of a villain side for actually harming the straw hat and his defeat was a bit underwhelming but the race, the settings it was all fun. It is not to say I don’t enjoy any other One Piece movies, I delight in the horror fuel of Baron Omatsuri - and that killer final punch - and Z’s tragic tale of a fallen marine, Strong World has that epic entrance to the party and Stampede also had some great team up moments and fantastic writing for Usopp and Smoker but Dead End Adventure always feels like the movie I could watch in any mood.

6. Skypeia and Fishman Island are some of my favourite arcs While I can understand the criticism of the Long Ring Long Land arc (especially since the anime dragged out the Davy Back Fight) it surprised me that people found Skypeia and Fishman Island arcs to be boring or less entertaining than previous arcs. Everyone has their preferences of course but I felt that Skypeia and Fishman Island were very powerful arcs especially with the theme of racism. Both had glorious setting design different to the common customs of the world we had seen, Oda made both Skypeia and Fishman Island feel very much lived in with its own budding culture and prejudices, with a villain who was dead set on destroying everything just to have their way. With Enel and his priests we were able to push several characters to newer limits, with Robin showing her fighting capabilities, Zoro learning his projectile slashes, Chopper having to endure fighting 3 priests and even Usopp growing all the more braver in the face of seemingly indestructible opponents and later gaining access to the dials. With Fishman Island it was different because it was basically a ‘flex arc’: where the main villain is meant to be a stepping stone rather than a threat but even then the symbolism of the enemy is what’s significant with them, the inherited hatred of humans. But at the same time we do learn new strengths from the crew; Red Hawk, the use of armament Haki, Skywalk, Hell Memories, Franky Shogun, Usopp’s pop greens, Nami’s weather eggs, Brook’s Soul Solid and his new DF power (which is possibly an awakening), as well as the first true steps of Jimbei joining the crew. The biggest strength of both arcs is the flashback as well, like Wano would in present time both arcs demonstrated that Oda can carry a story without his main characters and still keep it as captivating as ever, be it the friendship of Noland and Calgara, the tragedies of Otohime and Fisher Tiger or the life of Kozuki Oden and the man who would be Pirate King. And the impact of Fishman Island and Skypeia’s flashbacks both come back around in Dressrosa with the dwarves and Koala, and Fishman Island really does kick off the whole Yonko saga with Luffy challenging Big Mom, these arcs were definitely significant as they were entertaining with silly faces, strong fights, challenging themes, lorebuilding, good side characters and unique twists. And the overall message of healing from the past is still significant to this day. Through Wyper’s sacrifice and the Bell ringing to Jimbei giving blood and the Ryugu royals wanting to attend the Reverie, it is all very powerful stuff and while the arcs are similar in nature its their similarities that make me love them. Also the cover stories with Enel and Gedatsu on their own mini adventures are fun

5. I really want to know where Ghin is Ghin/Gin was such an interesting character in Baratie. Given that this was right before Arlong Park too so we had not seen a character conflict with different loyalties in One Piece until then, his gratitude to Sanji against his loyalty to Krieg created a fantastically complex character, but then he left and we didn’t hear about him ever since. Did he survive Krieg’s poison gas? Is he still with Krieg? One reactor of the episode said “maybe he’ll become the next Don” which was a concept I kinda really liked. The guy was pretty strong given that he had bested Sanji at that time, and since he didn’t appear in a cover story my mind does wonder. It’s not just Ghin either, a lot of the early East Blue characters kinda fell off the map; where is Morgan? Last we saw he was sleeping as he sailed past Jango, where is Kuro? For someone wanting to resume piracy after some years off he has been very quiet, where is Krieg? Only Arlong and Morgan were arrested and the latter escaped so the rest of these characters are a mystery. Recently in Wano I am still wondering where Law’s crew that he brought to Onigashima went, as well as Caribou - where is that slippery bugger?

4. Basil Hawkins is probably one of my Top 5 Supernova There’s something about that dude I gravitate towards, which makes it quite frustrating when the anime decides to add extra malice and creepy faces to him. Hawkins in Wano is still a victim, if anything he is simply a prisoner with better working conditions, if he thought he could survive escaping Kaido he would but he doesn’t so he won’t, he’s also gonna feel sore about Drake betraying him and letting Law cut him up, so it annoys me that Hawkins is seen like a villain. Not only does he have an extremely interesting Devil Fruit and creativity with it but he’s also audaciously confident in his fortunetelling, even Luffy ran from Kizaru at Sabaody while Hawkins looked at his cards while Kizaru was about to boot him to holy hell and said ‘nah I’m not dying today’, you gotta respect that moxie. At the same time though as a pirate he has that shades of grey element, he’s okay with letting some of his crew be disposable and we don’t even know to what end, he doesn’t look like a guy too concerned about being Pirate King or having riches. I also get a good laugh in that his hobbies are interior design, it makes me really want to see what the inside of his ship looks like. I think as a top 5, I have Luffy, Zoro, Law, Hawkins and then Kid, Bege, Killer and Bonney are not far behind with Apoo dead last because fuck Apoo. Kid and Killer are cool but I do feel like they need a bit more character, Bege earned some points in being funny and his care for his family in WCI and then there’s Bonney - I really hope we dig into Bonney’s significance, she feels really important and that mystery keeps her fresh whenever we see her. Drake too has only really started to become interesting because of SWORD, we could still see more fleshing but for now he is like bottom 3. It’s a shame Urouge has to be so low, he’s not bad but he’s not spectacular either, gotta admire his hobby of lovemaking though, you do you Urouge.

3. I don’t think that either of the ‘Most Beautiful Women in the World’ are the Most Beautiful Women in One Piece The in-world consensus seems to be that the Most Beautiful Women in the World are Boa Hancock, Komurasaki and Shirahoshi, and granted they are very pretty, but the most? Not for me. I mean, y’all know that Nico Robin, Nami and Vinsmoke Reiju exist right? Makino as well is stunning, as are Tashigi, Bonney, Margaret, Ishilly, Nojiko, Vivi, Rebecca, Pudding, Perona, Cosette and I’m sure a few others, realistically I think they could all give them a run for their money. I get how for those three their beauty is a plot point (Boa it’s drilling home Luffy’s obliviousness to it, Komurasaki it’s the swerve of her not being awful and for Shirahoshi it’s due to Vander Decken IX pulling the creep factor on her) but it would’ve worked the same way without the ‘world’ hyperbole I think. As much as Oda is iffy with proportions and rarely writes women with as much attention as the boys he sure knows how to make them attractive.

2. Some of my favourite individual Straw Hat scenes aren’t in Canon If I were to have a top 5 moments of each character, it may surprise you that some of it comes from movies or filler episodes, particularly Sanji’s flexing on Jessica in the G8 Arc (in fact, Jonathon is one of my favourite marines, T-Bone is in there too, but I don’t have room to fit that). Some are of course obvious because of how iconic they are but it does go to show that sometimes filler isn’t all bad. Since you’re probably curious: As a Group Goodbye Merry [Enies Lobby] Entering Shiki’s Palace [Strong World] Walk to Arlong Park [Arlong Park] Entering the Grand Line [Reverse Mountain] vs a Stuck Oars [Thriller Bark] Jimbei Giving Luffy Blood [FMI] Vagabond Drill on Big Mom [WCI] Leaving the Big Mom Pirates [WCI] Returning in Wano [Wano] Trying to argue with Luffy [FMI] Brook vs Chess Soldiers & Big Mom [WCI] Flashback [Thriller Bark] Breaking Mother Carmel’s Picture [WCI] Baron Corpse vs Dog Minks [Zou] Hysterically laughing at seeing Duval [Sabaody] Franky vs Senor Pink [Dressrosa] Playing with the Kids [Punk Hazard] vs Fukurou [Enies Lobby] Freedom Roller [Wano] Trapping Caribou in the Barrel [FMI] Robin  I Want to Live [Enies Lobby] Clutching Spandam [Enies Lobby] Throwing Usopp under the bus [G8] vs Yama [Skypeia] Clutching Tequila Wolf guards [Amazon Lily] Chopper Monster Point [Enies Lobby] Flashback [Drum Island] Chopper Man (& Minoru Kazeno) vs Usobada [Chopper Man Special] Don’t blow the whistle: Immediately blows whistle [Skypeia] Dr Chopper the definitely Human Doctor not wearing fake glasses [G8] Vivi w/ Karoo (she counts okay!) Goodbye speech [Alabasta] Escaping Bon Clay [Alabasta] Karoo Digging Luffy Out [Little Garden] Luffy Fan Club Meeting [Reverie] Slapping Usopp awake [Drum Island] Nami vs Kalifa [Enies Lobby] Standing by the kids [Punk Hazard] Saying goodbye to Bell-mere [Arlong Park] Helping Luffy vs Cracker via Lola’s Vivre Card [WCI] Luffy WILL be Pirate King [Wano] Sanji ‘I needed a light’ [Skypeia] Flexing on Jessica [G8] Saving the Vinsmokes [WCI] O-Soba Mask [Wano] vs Doflamingo [Dressrosa]  Usopp Alabasta speech [Alabasta] Awakening Observation Haki [Dressrosa] Sogeking Theme Song [Enies Lobby] vs Perona [Thriller Bark] Saving Luffy from the fire [Stampede]  Zoro Nothing Happened [Thriller Bark] vs Ryuma [Thriller Bark] vs Mr. 1 [Alabasta] vs Gyukimaru & Kamazo [Wano] “He’s sweeping our floors that fiend!” Test of Luck [Loguetown] Luffy ‘On the Sea, you fight Pirates’ [Wano] Red Roc [Wano] vs Katakuri [WCI] Haki clash with Doflamingo [Dressrosa] Punching Saint Charloss [Sabaody] I will have to say that for some characters I could go to 20 so if one’s missing it may’ve just missed the mark, such as Usopp and Nami vs Enel or Luffy putting back a Zombie or Stealth Luffy, I mean it is 1000 chapters as well as movies and filler episodes/specials...

1. I’ve learned quite a lot due to One Piece Since my fascination started with a deep dive of checks, I did start to learn a hell of a lot more not just about the franchise itself (you know it’s almost catching up BATMAN on total sales, which has been around more than 3 times longer?) but I also learned a lot about stuff Oda has used as a reference key; folklore, actual pirates, actual practices, the amount of detail Oda puts in is astounding. Which does lean into another thing I’ve learned, One Piece has changed the way I approach some of my ideas for writings and whatnot, before I would be afraid of either spoonfeeding or being too vague, Oda’s mastery not only in storytelling but character development, character quality and pacing has both helped and intimidated me a lot of times, I mean consider this: it took hundreds of chapters to get a proper backstory on Luffy, the main character, how unprecedented is that? Often I could fall into the trap of making sure you knew everything about the main character from day one but now I wonder about what’s necessary for the now and what can I work on. Another thing that both inspires and intimidates me is his drawing, I suck at colours and still do, and a lot of Oda’s attention to detail is incredible considering he’s gotta whip that out on the weekly, but at the same time you see some of his rough sketches and they’re pretty similar to a rough sketch of my own, so in a way it’s a ‘there’s still hope for you’ moment seeing those. I can’t say I’ve learned Japanese from listening to One Piece, but I have picked up on some stuff, some hiragana there, some phonetics here, I also appreciated some of the stuff kaizokuou-ni-naru does (I won’t tag them in case that’s a bit rude to do it out of the blue but check out their tumblr) when it came to deciphering the Japanese of chapters and the little puns and hints Oda puts in his native tongue. And of course any One Piece fan has learned one thing above all else: Patience. Oda himself included, it took over 20 years to get to 1000 chapters and we still have plenty of questions to ask, plenty of islands to see and thus plenty of chapters to go. So Straw Hats off to you Oda, and a happy 1000th!

[laylacooke]

The Carous-Hell Waltz || Orion & Layla

timing: during the weeks the carnival was in town parties: @3starsquinn & @laylacooke summary: rio and layla take a ride on a cursed merry-go-round. warnings: animal abuse tw????

She had already ventured to the carnival once. However, it had been on her own, and after playing one game, Layla had decided it had been enough for the night. But when the offer came up to go back, she jumped on the chance to hang out with someone who was easily becoming one of her best friends in White Crest. As she sat on a nearby bench, she watched for Rio to arrive, wondering what kind of trouble they would get into tonight, hoping that her head wouldn’t give her any issues from the bright lights and constant noise.

Orion knew that he couldn’t trust the carnival. Even though his experience with the carnival had been overwhelmingly positive, he wasn’t completely blind to the fact that some darker was lurking beneath the surface. The Ferris Wheel lasting longer than possible, the trick mirrors that Blanche had told him about. The amount of Fae that seemed to show up yearly. But it didn’t matter. For the first time Rio got to explore the place himself, without his family leading the charge. He had gotten the chance to explore with the group earlier and the week, and now he was excited to explore with Layla. He didn’t even care that his ribs still stung, and that people kept staring at his black eye and bruised cheek. It probably wasn’t a pretty sight, but at least the swelling in his face had gone down by now. He spotted her at their meetup spot, waiting for him on the bench and jumped up and waved his arms around to grab her attention. “Hey!” Rio said once he had jogged over to her, “Have you been here yet? Because it’s a weird place.”

When Layla spotted Rio jumping around, a smile came over her face. Slowly getting up off the bench, she limped over to him. Noticing his face, she moved a little faster, “Rio! What happened?” She inspected his eye and cheek. Quite the pair they were. Every time they hung out, one of them or both of them were either hurt or got hurt, “I would say wonder twin powers activate…” She motioned to her head, “But I think I met your sister once, so I’m guessing she has that covered. If you don’t have a sister, just ignore I ever said anything.” She grinned. “But really what happened?” She glanced back over to the bench, and was thinking about going back over to it, but before she could, someone snatched it up, “I have. Once. Don’t play Hanyo.”

Layla was limping. The two of them were clearly bad luck charms. They attracted danger to themselves and possibly each other. It didn’t exactly bode well for the carnival, but Orion was dead set on having a good time tonight. Despite the pain he was still in. “Long story.” Rio sighed, scratching the back of his head and trying to explain, “I have bad luck in forests. And lots of things there like to attack people, apparently.” The troll that Rio had killed still rested in the back of his mind, forcing him to relive the moment over and over again. “You met my sister?” Rio froze. That was enough to get him to stop thinking about the troll for a minute. First Ariana and now Layla? Athena wouldn’t leave his werewolf friends alone. “How’d that go?” He wasn’t keen on the idea of Athena knowing Layla. She had enough trouble in her life already. But he also couldn’t bring himself to warn them about her either. Athena would only be more dangerous if she got backed into a corner. “Yeah, don’t worry about me, I had no intentions of playing that. Better question is, why would you?”

“You know, I wouldn’t say forests are all bad luck. That’s where we met.” A smile spread across her face. Yes, he had an excellent point about forests. She had killed a man in a forest. She had been attacked by a vampire in a forest. And she was bitten by a werewolf in a forest. But she was trying to start a new path in her life, and dwelling on the negative was something the teenager so desperately wanted to put behind her, “Uh, yeah. And no offense, but I’m not too fond of her. The circumstances weren’t the best.” She wasn’t sure she could tell Rio exactly why she had met Athena or that she had threatened Layla’s life if she didn’t cooperate during the ritual that helped save the town. In her mind, it had been one of the worst moments, considering she had hurt Frankie. But in the end, everything was okay, and that’s what mattered. She was just glad he brought the carnival up, “Good. And don’t laugh, but they had a plush I wanted. And I sacrificed a good pair of jeans and my hands for that thing. Wanna smell?” She stuck her hand towards his face. The smell had nearly worn off, but her extra sensitive nose still picked up on hits of it every now and then that made her want to gag.

Orion laughed, but nodded, “Yeah that was probably like... the one good thing about that day. Considering the other circumstances weren’t ideal.” He could still vividly remember the vampire that had attacked them. The details were etched in his brain. Seeing her coated in blood, screaming at Rio as she tried to choke the life out of him. But Layla and Rio had survived the night, by some miracle. And a great friendship had come out of it. So, it felt like it had been worth it all along. So, Layla hadn’t been a fan of his sister either? No surprise there, “Can’t say I blame you. She’s an acquired taste. Definitely not everybody’s cup of tea.” He shrugged it off. He didn’t need to get into too much detail about his relationship with his sister, or lack thereof. “No laughing here. I support whatever prize it was.” When Layla waved her hand towards his face and laughed and tried ducking away from it, “Oh god, no! Please spare me I hate that smell I hate it” Rio wanted to side stepped away to put some distance between the two, laughing the entire time. This was what he had needed. To get his mind off the week he had. “So, what should we do? I wouldn’t suggest the Ferris Wheel.”

Layla was grateful for Orion’s friendship. Yes, it had come out of chaos, but it was worth it. As for his sister, she had preferred to keep avoiding her until she physically couldn’t, “I don’t think she’ll ever be my cup of tea, and vice versa. But you, on the other hand, are amazeballs. My hand…” She pulled it back. “Not so much. Try living with this thing with a werewolf nose. It’s awful.” She shuddered. But back to the task at hand. Glancing into the large area filled with rides, games, and food, she let her eyes scan the carnival. But she quickly looked back at her friend at the mention of the Ferris Wheel, “Wait. What’s wrong with the Ferris Wheel?” She was curious. Hanyo had been simple. No tricks. Just a huge container full of grossness, so her curiosity peaked at his words. If not the Ferris Wheel, then she would suggest something else, and then she saw it. The Merry-Go-Round. “How about that?” While they were still just outside the gates, she let her finger point to the animals bobbing up and down to carnival music.

Orion shrugged her statement off. For all parties involved, Rio didn’t want to dwell too much on Athena tonight. “Well, thanks. We are two very different people. But people usually like her. So it’s uh- weird. Having people that like me now. Not to get too sappy or anything.” Rio’s nose curled at the thought. Rio’s sense of smell was heightened, though not to the same level as a werewolf’s. “The mayonnaise does a great job of ruining any sappy moment, so thank you.” Ah, so Layla hadn’t seen how weird the place could be. He supposed that a vat of mayo wasn’t exactly supernatural, even if it was still pretty freaking weird. “Well when the five of us got on in it was like… midday. And then Winston and I- who were alone in a cart which is a long story- talked for like maybe ten minutes and then got off, it was nighttime. Over five hours had passed.” He could only guess that they had been drugged or the Ferris Wheel was some weird time hole or something. “That seems innocent enough. Let’s do it!”

Layla could tell that talking about Athena had made him uncomfortable, and that was the last thing she had wanted to do, “Enough about family and hanyo. Although my hands have been really soft…Sorry. We’re here to make new memories, and hopefully not come out anymore wounded than we already are.” She wanted to say what’s the worst that could happen but refrained. “Oh, I know Winston. How are they?” She hadn’t seen them in quite some time (Next person on her list to make it a point to hang out with). “And you don’t have to explain anything to me, Rio.” She smiled softly at him, before she started to limp towards the entrance, “But that sounds pretty weird about the Ferris Wheel, so we can avoid that, too.” Pulling out some money, she waited in line at the front gate. “Merry-Go-Rounds always seem like a safe bet. And afterwards maybe some carnival games?”

Orion nodded profusely at Layla’s insistence that they drop the family and the hanyo subject, “Good idea. Great idea actually.” Anything to stop talking about Athena. Especially where Winston was involved in the conversation. Rio really didn’t like talking about them together. “They’re good! Well… I think. It’s been a long few weeks. For a lot of people honestly, but I think they’re holding up okay.” At least Rio hoped so. He tried to make sure that Winston was doing okay. He was a pretty bad… whatever he was if Winston wasn’t doing okay. “Oh it’s- no it’s definitely not that I don’t want to explain it.” Rio laughed. Layla and he had gotten pretty close since being attacked by that vampire. Rio didn’t want to keep things from her. But even he didn’t really know exactly what to say. “I don’t really know how to? I think Winston and I sort of have like… a thing? Maybe. I don’t know, I've never dated anyone before. I don’t know what to call it.” Rio stood beside Layla in line, hands stuffed into his pockets. “Sounds good! I’m horrible at carnival games.” 

“I’m glad to hear they’re doing okay. And, honestly, Frankie’s the only person I’ve ever dated. I don’t think it needs labels as long as you're both happy.” She gave Orion a soft pat on the shoulder. With Frankie, Layla just knew. Yes, she had kissed Ariana in a drugged induced haze, but it was at a moment when she thought she had done the right thing in giving her girlfriend an out. Little did she know, the woman was going to show up a few weeks later. But she was grateful she had. “And just know you can ask me stuff anytime you want. Me and Frankie have been together since Sophomore year, and we’ve known each other since we were like super little.” Stepping closer to the ticket booth, she recounted her money rather quickly, “I’m a pretty good aim, but maybe we just get through the Merry-Go-Round then.” She laughed, “If we’ve both already had weird experiences here, there’s no telling what this is going to be like.”

Orion had only briefly known Frankie, but had enjoyed his time chatting with her in the diner. He had seen her again briefly at Layla and Lucas’ party before being conned into humiliating himself playing Twister. Still, it was obvious how much Frankie cared about Layla. She had come to White Crest for her after all. Rio hoped to hang out with the two of them together soon. “I will take you up at the offer. Because I bet you’re super cute together. I’m glad you two are still together after this long.” He followed behind Layla, passing by the ticket booth and climbing onto the Merry-Go-Round. He moved slowly, carefully. He had to admit he was a bit nervous. He didn’t trust this place, no matter how normal a Merry Go-Round seemed. Rio made sure to grab one right next to Layla and climbed on top of it. So far so good. Now they just had to make it through the ride. This was fine. This seemed fine. “Okay. So far so good, yeah?”

Layla blushed at Orion’s comment about her and Frankie, “Thanks, Rio. I’m glad we are, too, even after I kinda up and left her, but all with good reason.” She still felt horrible for everything she had put her girlfriend through. Frankie hadn’t deserved any of it, even if Layla had thought it had been for the best. But that was in the past, and if it’s one thing Layla had learned recently, it was that Frankie could take care of herself.

Once she had paid and they were inside, Layla found a spot on a wolf. It was only fitting considering what she was. Climbing onto its back, she grabbed onto the pole and grabbed it tightly. From the things she had already heard about the carnival, she was curious what this ride would bring. Looking to Rio, she laughed nervously, “Yeah. I mean it’s a Merry-Go-Round. What’s the worst that could happen?” Every part of Layla was screaming internally at such an ignorant comment. It was a cursed carnival. Everything could happen.

What’s the worst that could happen? What a loaded sentence. One that Orion wished Layla hadn’t mentioned into existence. While Rio couldn’t think of anything about a merry-go-round that could go wrong, clearly, he just wasn’t being imaginative enough. This was the same place with a freaky hall of mirrors and time defying ferris wheel. Clearly something could be wrong with this ride. Something probably was wrong with this ride. But Rio didn’t want to curse them any further, so he just let out a single, albeit nervous, laugh and gave Layla a thumbs up. Appropriately, Layla had chosen the wolf to ride on. The music started before the actual ride, but eventually with a jerk, the machine roared to life.

It wasn’t bad at first. Things started off pretty normally. The animals rose along with the music, falling rhythmically. It was faster than Rio had been anticipating, but other than that all seemed okay. At least… until something started to feel a little off. It was around the fourth spin. Rio had been judging their time by focusing on the tent selling cotton candy, focusing on the bright weaving colors every time the two completed a spin. The fourth time, just as a kid ran off with a massive collection of sugar, the animal began to rise again. Only this time, Rio could tell that he was not changing height. No, it was like the thing was breathing. The split moment of carefree that Rio had allowed himself abandoned him in an instant, panic taking his place as he feared for a second that the plastic beast, he was sitting on top of may not be so plastic after all.

Layla looked to Rio with a nervous smile gripping the pole she was hanging onto a little tighter once the ride started. Feeling the animal beneath her move up and down, as plastic critters normally did on Merry-Go-Rounds, she felt fine. So far, so good. But the spinning of the ride felt as if it was gradually getting faster and faster, until her heightened wolf senses alerted her to danger. Danger in the form of an alpha wolf threatening a lower level wolf to get off its back. And before she could say anything else, she felt a violent motion as she looked down to see a living, breathing animal trying to take a bite out of her leg.

With wide eyes, Layla quickly looked to Rio, “Um, maybe...Maybe I spoke too soon!?” Her claws dug into the metal pole for extra grip as she tried to avoid once again losing her leg to a wolf bite. But instead of fear, which had been the redhead’s go-to emotion for so long, she tried something new. Retaliation. Glancing around first to make sure no one was near them, the teenager let out a low growl to match that of the animal beneath her. Never had she been one for attacking an animal, but this was no ordinary creature, and she wasn’t going to let either one of them end up as wolf chow or the meal of any other animal that now found life on this ride.

Digging her heels into its side, Layla let go of the pole and shifted her grip to that of the wolf’s neck. Claws going into flesh, she could feel blood seeping out its neck and through anger, fear, and sadness for the actions she was having to take, tears began rolling down her cheeks. It wasn’t long before the violent thrashing beneath her had stopped; blood pooled on the spinning ride flinging out onto bypassers watching the ridiculous ride move on. But she had stopped the animal from attacking, and somehow, instead of it going limp, it had returned to its hard-plastic form waiting for the next unsuspecting victim as the Merry-Go-Round continued to spin on.

Confusion filled Layla’s face, but she had figured it out, and with tears lingering in her eyes, she turned to her friend, “Rio, you have to kill it!” It sounded ridiculous, but it had been her only hope, and she wasn’t sure what would happen if the animal he was on remained alive, “I know it sounds crazy, but look!” She motioned to the plastic beast that now sat perfectly still and poised beneath her, once again rising and falling with the music.

The animal was alive. Orion had racked his brain trying to think of what could come from a merry go round that was dangerous or supernatural. Of all the theories he had come up with, this had not been one of them. It just… how? This shouldn’t even be possible. Even though nothing should surprise Rio anymore, this seemed to shake him. His body jerked, a desperate plea to get away from the beast he had been riding on. Unfortunately, as his body fell backwards, his leg bent, hooking onto the metal pole used for stability. He was flailing back now, half of his body hanging off the horse that he had been riding while his right leg was latched onto the beast. It was going crazy, trying its best to kick Rio the rest of the way off. For what it was worth, Rio was trying the same thing to get free. Their combined motion seemed to work against each other, with Rio’s foot ending up jammed against the horse’s body and blocking him from pulling his leg free. 

It wasn’t until Orion heard Layla’s voice that he realized what she had done. “Kill it” Rung over and over again in his head. All he could do was picture the troll. Was that what he was now? What he was capable of? The smell of blood came and went quickly. Was it a memory? Or Layla’s beast being slain? With little time to think and less to act, Rio bent his body forward, grabbing both hands onto the horse’s neck and tightening. The feeling made him sick to his stomach, but in one swift motion he twisted. At first, there was a sudden crack until Rio blinked to hide himself from the sight. When he finally braved a peak, Rio found himself riding the normal plastic animal again. 

With nothing keeping him locked into place, his leg easily slid from the smooth plastic body of the horse and Rio’s leg fell loose, Rio dropping the rest of the way and landing on his neck on the ground. The ride was still spinning, and now Rio’s head had joined. He groaned in pain, lying there for a moment longer before slowly climbing up to his feet. That wasn’t real. It couldn’t have been real. Just some weird illusion. He hadn’t killed anything. “So that is the worst that could happen, apparently.”

Layla watched as Rio flailed with the animal, but when she noticed he was taking her suggestion, she turned her head. Even though she knew what the outcome of the horse would be, she still couldn’t bear to see the boy snap its neck. But when it was done, and she heard the thud, Layla quickly turned her head to see her friend on the ground. Quickly hopping off of the plastic wolf that continued to move up and down, Layla maneuvered her way over to the boy, “Are you okay?” She watched as he climbed to his feet and spoke, “And you know, I don’t want to wait around to confirm that theory, so I say we call it a night.”

With the ride still spinning, Layla made her way to the edge, and without much hesitation, jumped landing with a hard thud and a momentous roll into a nearby barricade separating the ride from people waiting in line. Slowly climbing to her feet, scrapped and bruises forming, she watched hoping Orion would follow, “I wouldn’t ride that thing if I were you…” She sent a cautious glance in the direction of the group standing next to her as she waited on her friend.

Despite Orion’s better judgement, he figured that leaping from the machine was safer than staying on it. He followed Layla’s lead and jumped off it, leading on his feet for a moment before the momentum threw him off balance and he collapsed onto the ground, rolling forward. He peaked an eye open, staring at the plastic animals still bounding upward and downward as they spun around the merry go round. Had that actually just happened? Or had it been some weird illusion that both Layla and Rio had seen? He glanced over at Layla, already on her feet and advising people not to ride the thing. Unsurprisingly, only a couple of people seemed to acknowledge her, while most stared at her as if she had been insane for jumping from the ride. Which- okay, it did look bad. But for good reason. Rio picked himself up from the ground and made his way to Layla, beelining it to get farther away from the ride. “You know, growing up in this town has taught me that most people are always going to think that things are normal here. But it was worth a try.” He laughed, pointing back at the group that was now getting ready to climb onto animals of their own. For their sake, Rio hoped things were normal. He considered their conversation earlier, “You know… I know we talked about doing some of the carnival games. But maybe instead we uh- don’t?” He offered, hoping he didn’t sound too desperate. He had had enough of the carnival for today, “Maybe we can just grab dinner instead?”

Layla watched as Rio followed her lead. Having him off the ride and safe was a relief, “If they only knew, Rio...If they only knew.” She watched as more people boarded the ride. It wasn’t a surprise that they had looked at Layla like she was insane. She had gotten used to those types of stares since coming to town, but the more she was learning about White Crest, the more she questioned why she had decided to stay here in the first place, “You know what? Food sounds so much better than carnival games. And you know what sounds even better? Food far away from this place.” It wasn’t like there was much Layla could eat anyways, and even if there was, she didn’t want to remain at the carnival any longer, “Al’s? I hear they’re serving sweet potato fries now.” An uneasy smile settled on her face as she watched the machine start up again hoping for the best for those who hadn’t heeded her warning and grateful that her and Rio had escaped when they did.

[who-is-olivia]

Track 6. Only Angel

Harry Styles x OC

Olivia has to perform in the Victoria Secret Fashion Show but struggles to deal with her mental health. [3.7k]

Genre: fluff, angst

Warnings: nudity, sexual language, mental health struggles

December 2014

  They hadn't been on speaking terms.

  Two years ago, Olivia had a breakdown and decided to go back to her hometown in Brazil, right when One Direction was set to perform on Madison Square Garden. They split up to give her room to recover and it was working... until Taylor came into the picture.

  Harry never regretted the choices he made, he knew he would be miserable with Taylor knowing that Oli was just around the corner. So he broke up with her on the day they were set to travel to the Caribbean. It was very harsh on her so it’s understandable she wouldn’t take it nicely.

  Now, Oli and Frank have to perform on the Victoria Secret Fashion Show right after Taylor.  It’s an honor, Olivia will introduce two Brazilian models wearing a special bra thing, she’s gonna be wearing a beautiful lingerie piece, but she can’t control her nerves efficiently enough to enjoy the opportunity.

  This is the last rehearsal before the big performance, they mark the steps along with the sound check and the last costume fitting all at the same time. Frank’s standing around with his guitar waiting for the production’s queue to dismount while Oli leans over Nadine’s phone to watch a short news outlet on Twitter hyping the show tomorrow.

“... but the supermodels are not the highlight of the show, instead is someone who won’t even walk the stage: Harry Styles is the talk of the town as tomorrow both his ex and his current girlfriend will take the stage one after the other. Who do you think will deliver the best performance? Comment down below and don’t forget to subscribe-“

“This is bullshit” Oli shakes her shoulder trying to seem unfazed but secretly crumbling in anxiety.

“Total bullshit, I’m sorry you had to watch this-“ Nadine revolts.

“No, it’s fine, I’m just gonna get my stuff-“

“Hey, do they have extra wings?” Frank asks from the other end of the stage.

“I don’t think so, why?”

“I was dying to wear wings” he grunts and Oli rolls her eyes.

“You can wear mine after I walk the stage” Candice winks at him teasingly.

“Frank, we have bigger fish to fry” she walks up to him, leaving the girls to themselves. “We should call this off”

“Wha-Why?!”

“Because it’s drawing too much negative attention, I don’t need that at this point” she fiddles with her fingers, desperate for a cigarette.

“Oli, this is huge for the us, we can’t bail out”

“Frankie, please”

“No bug, I’m sorry” he pats her shoulder and walks away. From the corner of her eye she notices someone familiar approaching.

“Hey there, crazy!” Zayn nods.

“Holy shit, what are you doing here?” she jumps down the stage and lands in his hug. Apart from Harry, Zayn is the only 1D member she’s got to befriend. Nothing against the other boys, they all speak to each other, but he’s her actual friend. Doesn’t hurt that she got to work a lot with his girlfriend’s band recently.

“Harry told me you’d be here, I thought I’d give you a ride”

“Perfect! Let me get my things-“

“What about Frank?”

“He’ll find a place to sleep tonight” she chuckles.

  Since the show’s in London, she at least gets the comfort of staying at Harry’s place. Although they share a nice flat in New York, he needs a place in London due to the label and also to see his family. To ease their expenses, he bought a smaller place that she hasn't seen yet. Harry feels quite lonely in it, and having the expectation of her visit did nothing for his internal peace.

  On the way there, she and Zayn share a couple smokes and make small talk, planning a few tattoos while she’s in town. Soon enough they arrive and there he is, waiting to open her door for her.

“Hey love” he smiles, pulling her out of the car and into his loving embrace. At the very sight of him a huge weight is lifted from her shoulders. “Thanks mate, appreciate it”

“No worry, we’ll catch up later, eh?”

“I’ll text you, bye Zayn!”

  As he drives down the lane, Harry walks with an arm around her waist up to the flat where her things are already in place. With that out of the way, they head straight to the shower.

  He presses her naked body against the wall, her wet chest against his as their lips clash in a sensuous patient kiss. His small pecks fall to her jaw and down her neck as his wet hair tickles her, distracting her from the pleasure he’s giving.

“Haz?”

“Hm?” he hums in her sweet spot.

“Do you think I should do the gig?”

Harry stops kissing her, bringing his gaze back to her and sighing worriedly. “What could possibly make you not do it?”

“Everyone keeps speculating about the performance, they keep comparing me to Taylor and I’m just...” she cracks, hiding her face on his wet neck. Harry strokes the back of her head and shushes her tenderly, trying to get a glimpse of her.

“If you don’t wanna do it, don’t do it love. You can tell everyone you’re feeling sick and just stay here with me”  

“Yeah, but it would be amazing for Frank and I and it’s been really amazing to meet all the models and spending some time with Nadine...”

“Nadine’s great”

“She’s the fucking best” he relaxes at the sight of her smile.

“Whatever you wanna do, I’ll have your back, alright?” she nods and he leans in to kiss her playfully.

  They dry up and head to the bed, exhausted. Before she arrived, he was craving for her, desperately. He would remember their times together and twitch in his pants at the thought of it, always keeping in mind that she was x days away from coming home and putting away his misery. But having her in his arms so fragile, so unprepared, it felt wrong and he had to stop. What he feels for her is not only physical and he can’t let her emotional needs unattended.

  Oli falls asleep curled up to his side, one of her legs straddled around his waist, breathing calmly on his chest. He takes a little longer to doze off just watching her peaceful sleep, the lovely way her parted lips blow against his shirt and her eyelids twitch while she’s having a dream. Her hair is wrapped in a light pink silk sheet, soaked in coconut oil, and he can’t resist burying his nose on it and taking in the sweet scent. He loves her so much it burns, and seeing her anguish feels like walking with a knife craved in his heart, he wishes he could make it all go away... so he tries something stupid.

  At approximately 2:00am, he calls Frank.

“Aren’t you calling a bit late?” he growls on the other end of the line.

“Hey, I’m sorry, there’s just something that’s not letting me sleep”

“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

“Probably can, I just wanted to clear my head about this” he excuses, feeling like he’s already drawing towards the unwanted results with this call. “You and Oli have to perform tomorrow at all costs?”

“Look man... I know she’s stressed out, all that bad press is getting under her skin but after we ditched Fiona and Gina we haven't been selling, at all, and we need the show if we want to stay signed for another year”

“Yeah, but aren’t you scared she’ll just... lose it?”

“I am, I still feel guilty about her breakdown... but that’s the job, she loves it, the good and the bad. Trust me, she’ll be amazing tomorrow, you won’t tell the difference between her and an angel”

“I bet I won’t... night, Frank” he hangs up. Frank is a level-headed guy, he must have thought this through already and taken the most logical conclusion but deep down it doesn’t feel right. Anyways, Harry quits his crusade to spare her and returns to the bedroom, settling in her arms again.

  But their domestic bliss is cut short by the day’s schedule. At 11:00am sharp she’s already getting her nails done and her braids fixed at Harry’s while he chats with everyone who’s busy. However, he notices Olivia is dead silent – which is very unusual.

“Guys” he calls after the nails and hair are done, “can I steal her for a second?”

“Sure... don’t mess her up!”

“I promise” he leads them to the door and shuts it, turning to where she has her head hidden behind her knees. “Love, please don’t let it get in your head”

“Too bad” she leans on her freshly manicured hands and he can see tears on the corner of her eyes.

That’s the last drop. “Hey, look at me” he tips her chin so she looks at him reluctantly. “You can both do great, it’s not a race, no matter what the bloody papers say”

“I know”

“Do you?”

She sighs, dropping her head on his palm. “No”

“Then you have to believe me, just do your best” he soothes, stroking her hair, “and if you can’t, your 50% is already bloody incredible-“

“Haz! Shut up” she laughs sadly, wiping the little droplets from her eyelids. To have her at least smiling is enough.

“I love you, alright?” she nods, “Trust me on this one, you’ll be fucking amazing”

  They both get pampered and ready to the red carpet, as usual arriving in grand fashion. He leaves the car first then opens the door to help her out, making a huge scene as she gets up on her heels and throws her thin Havana twists out of her face gently, which is quite a spectacle to the paparazzi. Once she feels the luxurious climate, her attitude shifts and she immediately grows more confident. She welcomes Harry’s arm around her waist and supports her wrist on his shoulder, staring at the cameras with a focused glance. He can feel it, her posture changes, she looks powerful, he can’t hide his gobsmacked grin at showing the world how intimidating and formidable is the woman who literally owns his heart and soul.

  Once the photographs are over, they walk to the dressing room together.

“Mr. Styles, you can’t go in” a producer holds him back.

Olivia frowns at her. “What?”

“This area is just for performers and models, you can’t go in”

“Can’t he come to my dressing room?”

“I’m sorry, it’s not allowed-“

“It’s ok” he interrupts, knowing pretty well it’s what he set up to surprise her later on. When she steps back, he takes Oli by the hand and hugs her tightly, pulling her close enough so he can whisper in her ear. “No matter how many people step on that stage tonight, you’re the only one I see, alright?”

She smirks. “You better...”

“You’re the sexiest, most talented person I know, you’re gonna be amazing”

“I hope so” she leans into him, cupping his cheek in a passionate kiss that catches him completely off-guard.

“I’ll be on the front row” he says a bit out of breath before letting her go.

  Once she turns towards her dressing room, she sees her standing there: tall, slim, fair, blonde, piercing blue eyes following her every step. Not willing to make another scene, she salutes her with two fingers in a friendly gesture, and in reply she smiles politely. Their interaction ends there.

  On her dressing room, Frank is already dressing up and strangely giggly.

“Candice is giving me her wings after the first run!” he cheers, making it really hard for the stylist to work on his outfit.

“You’re winning already then” she mocks, pulling her dress straps down and asking for Frank’s help to unzip the rest. She’s not used with the rest of the backup band so she awkwardly slides to one of the changing booths. “Where is Morgan? The show’s about to start”

  While she waits for their agent, she quickly puts on the black combo of hot pants, torn t-shirt, up the knee boots and a boa. At some point she hears something above the noise of the backup band tuning their instruments and everyone shuts up.

  The show starts.

  Taylor is the first one to perform, walking down the catwalk with some of the biggest models in the industry. They run to the side stage to watch them but the producers don’t let anyone get on the way of the running models, so she has to watch on the TV’s spread across the backstage. Taylor’s presentation is straight up perfect, she moves like fucking royalty and interacts naturally with all the models – she looks so good she might as well be mistaken for one. Oli’s legs begin to shake as the song hits the second chorus.

  Fortunately, there are two other performers watching, and they come to greet her.

“Hey Oli” Andrew is the first, thank god for a familiar face. They used to hang out after rehearsals, he’s a giant dork who’s also not used to fame. Also, his poems make her cry all the time.

“Andy! I’m passing out!”

“Wow, hang on” he holds her by the shoulders.

“I can’t follow up, everyone’s talking about it-“

“Hey, what you’re talking about? You rehearsed this, you’re gonna walk down that stage and be fucking incredible” he talks her down in that convoluted Irish accent of his.

  From the front row, Harry nervously watches top models in tiny clothes pass one after the other, trying to focus on anything else but Taylor on that moment. Every line she sings feels like she’s spitting on him. A show that lasts minutes feels like hours, and when it finally ends it’s time for Olivia.

“Holy shit” she breaths out raggedly.

“Do you want some water?” Ariana asks.

“Where’s Frank?” Oli pleads, seeing black dots on her peripheral vision.  

Frank, who had been talking to some of the models, promptly excuses himself. “You ok?” she barely hears through her thumping ears.

“I’m having a panic attack...”

“Hey, let me handle this” she hears her voice distantly, as if she’s drowning on her heartbeat. “Come with me” Taylor helps her up and takes her to one of the bathrooms, just the two of them.

  She pulls her hair out of her face and shoves it over one shoulder, helping her lean over the sink in case she feels like throwing up. She then wets her hand and throws some cold water on the back of her neck.

“Breath in, hold, then breath out, just like me” she insists. Olivia closes her eyes, breathes in, holds, then breathes out, time and time again until she can grasp her surroundings. Slowly, the thumping on her ears recedes and she can actually feel herself again. “Better?”

“Yeah...”, she takes one last deep breath, “thank you”

“Don’t worry, I’ve been there” she dries her hand on a paper towel.

Oli sighs heavily, “I don’t know if I can pull this off”

“Of course you can” Taylor counters, “Just think: you’ll be on stage with your brother, singing a song you already sang a hundred times, your fans will love it, the models will love it... and Harry’s on the front row, he’ll love it anyway”

She hesitates before starting, “I’m sorry about what happened between you”

“Don’t... I’m actually glad it’s over” Taylor looks down and nods her head, trying to figure out her next words. “Sure, I didn’t like the way it ended but I was just so anxious around him, I feel like I can breath now, it’s so funny... when I was with him I was always so nervous, afraid to say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing, like you were just then” she points to the door, “but you’re... effortless together. I wish I had something like that in my life”

“Hey” she looks up at her, “these things just... happen, I can’t explain it. Just do your thing and wait for someone to show up who happens to like you just like this. It might take a while but it’s worth it”

Taylor smiles, pulling her in for a tight hug. Olivia relaxes on her shoulder, welcoming all the energy she lets out. “I think you should go out there and rock that stage” she whispers encouragingly. “It doesn’t matter what people will say tomorrow, we know what’s up, they never will”

Olivia nods, taking a bit of distance. “Thank you so much” she squeezes Taylor’s hands.

“You’re welcome... now let’s go”

  The show-runner asks for the audience to be patient as they’re having a few technical difficulties and Harry is this close to invading the backstage and checking on Oli. His knee bops up and down frantically, looking at Liam beside him for guidance. At the first sign of applause, his eyes shoot up at the stage and there she is. Frank’s guitar riff fills the room as they walk in, him leading the way with his tall angel wings, sunglasses and skirt, his guitar wailing as if calling for Olivia to join. Then she does, parading to the beat until she reaches Frank.

“How’re you feeling tonight?!” she calls before getting her queue.

  He couldn’t look away even if his eyes were gauged off. His breathing increases, his body responding to the feast upon the stage. Two Brazilian models pass in front of her, he doesn’t look away. The entire cast of the show walks up but still, he doesn’t look away. The way her vocals reach all the way to the back of the venue makes the hairs on the back of his neck rise. She looks so powerful yet so ingenue, as if the way her hips swing is completely pure.

  But there’s nothing pure about her. The way she dances with Frank’s guitar solo, the way she smiles and bops with the models, how her braids barely cover her bare ass cheeks, it’s too much. All he can think about is ripping that lingerie with his teeth and let her encircle him with that boa, he wants to be at her mercy.

  At some point, their gazes meet and he feels a bit love drunk, lost in her beauty. She walks to the edge of the stage closest to him and blows him a kiss and he catches it in the air, keeping it on his internal pocket and winking back at her. He wants her to kiss him, he wants her to lose all decorum and just disgrace him right then and there.  

  But just as it began it ended. As she takes a bow and walks out with one of the models, Harry applauds on his feet. She smiles proudly, holding Frank on a side hug and bowing once again. She did it! It was amazing, sexy, vibrant... and Harry can’t wait to see her, not another ten seconds.

  She’s welcomed in the backstage with thunderous applause. After all, she did it! She was super scared but soldiered on and now that’ll live in history as one of her best performances ever. As soon as the clapping dies, she walks up to Taylor and hugs her tightly.

“Thank you for everything” she whispers through a smile.

“You were a-mazing!” Taylor cheers getting some distance between them and then hitching. Oli follows her gaze and finds Harry standing awkwardly in the middle of the commotion.

“Haz? I thought you couldn’t get in”

“Yeah, don’t say it too loud” he mocks, pulling a flower bouquet from behind his back. Olivia chuckles amusedly and runs to his embrace, leaving a very uncomfortable Taylor standing empty-handed.

“You were something else tonight” he whispers to her and hands her the flowers. Sensing the eyes around them, she restricts her displays of affection to a small kiss on his cheek. “How about we skip the after-party and just grab a bite with the band?”

“Sure, I just wanna watch Andy’s then we can go”

“Alright” he nods and his gaze accidentally catches Taylor’s. It would be extremely impolite to ignore her after looking her straight in the eyes so, for education’s sake, he walks up to her. “Ms. Swift”

“Mr. Styles” she replies with the same cocky attitude.

“It’s nice to see you”

“You too” they exchange a kiss in the cheek and part ways. Once Harry’s got his back towards her, Olivia and Taylor exchange a knowing wink.

  Before they watch Andrew’s performance, Oli and Harry head to her and Frank’s empty dressing room. As she walks in first to get the flowers on a pot, Harry locks the door behind him and moves to hug her waist. She closes her eyes in delight, feeling his desperate lips already trace her shoulder up to the crook of her neck.

“You looked really fucking sexy in that stage” he mumbles, taking gentle hold of her neck.

“I could tell, you were giving me bedroom eyes from the moment I stepped in” she mocks, stroking the hand that holds her on a choke-hold before turning inside his grasp and kissing him teasingly, making him dangle on the edge of sanity. He presses his parted lips on her but she pulls away slightly, licking a single strip of his bottom lip before bitting it lightly and kissing him back.

“Can’t wait ‘til bedroom love”

“Yeah? What a shame” she pushes him away playfully, “I’m not doing anything here with a zillion people outside”

“Fuck’s sake” he dramatically flops down into the sofa, “you’re killing me, honestly”

“Dead men can’t talk!” she replies, changing into her party dress and overcoat.

  Harry keeps groaning on the sofa, calling out for her until she’s ready. She leans over the back of the sofa and hugs his shoulders, he holds on to her arms for reassurance. Looking down, she notices he’s a bit too excited to go out in public, so she has an epiphany...

“... you got that James Dean daydream look in you eyes” she sings.

“Oh, fuck you-“

“And I’ve got that red lip classic thing that you like”

“Oli, don’t” he whimpers through a struggled laugh.

“We never go out of Style... es” with that one improv, he loses it, laughing his life away. She pecks his sweet cheeks over and over, leaving several dark-brown stains on his fair skin. “Come on, you’re good to go”

“Thanks, angel”

She narrows her eyes, hand hovering over the lock before grinning arrogantly, “I like that”

<< Previous | Next >>

Masterlist

[nerianasims]

Billboards #1 1963

Under the cut.

Steve Lawrence – “Go Away Little Girl” -- January 12, 1963

"Little girl" didn't mean "little girl" in songs of the era. She could be 49 for all we know. And yet, having to constantly remind onesself of that does not make for a pleasant listening experience. Nothing about it is a pleasant listening experience. Okay, he's drawn to someone he shouldn't be and doesn't know if he can resist. That's a common enough human experience. But he's so smarmy about it. And musically, it's light and boring lounge schmaltz.

The Rooftop Singers – “Walk Right In” -- January 26, 1963

It's okay. It's catchy. I can believe the singers are living breathing people, and not automatons, which is saying a lot for folk-pop of the era. There's some nice acoustic guitar work. I just can't get over the feeling this was originally either about drugs or sex work and has been sanitized. It's fine though. Which is a major improvement over the offensively bad "Michael" two years back.

Paul & Paula – “Hey Paula” -- February 9, 1963

They want to get married as soon as possible because they just can't wait. Why is not said -- this song is Wonder Bread -- but it's obviously because of sex. Also they're singing to each other's stage names, Paul and Paula. "Hey Paula" and "Hey Paul." Getting married very young because you can't handle not having sex any more is a really bad idea. Anyway, it's hard for me to think about the lyrics much because the music is so bland I think it killed some brain cells.

The Four Seasons – “Walk Like A Man” -- March 2, 1963

Can't sleep, Frankie Valli will get me. That falsetto. Dear lord. Anyway, his girlfriend has been spreading lies about him and he's gonna "walk like a man" to get away from her. I'd run like a woman to get away from his voice.

Ruby & The Romantics – “Our Day Will Come” -- March 23, 1963

Now here's a wonderful voice. Ruby Nash has a rich, beautiful contralto, and she puts a lot of joy into it. She's telling someone not to be upset about waiting, because "our day will come" and they'll be able to live happily ever after together. The bossa nova arrangement is nice, but this is all about Nash's voice. Quite good.

The Chiffons – “He’s So Fine” -- March 30, 1963

The narrator is in love with a shy guy whom she's having problems getting close to, but she's determined. "Sooner or later/ I hope it's not later." A nice bouncy girl group song. Also George Harrison ripped the melody off for a much worse song years later.

Little Peggy March – “I Will Follow Him” -- April 27, 1963

In high school, one of my friends and I made up words to this song that went "I hate him/ I hate him/ I hate him" and etc. So uh. This song. As-is, I find it annoying. It's a good jumping off point for you and your friends when you're deeply pissed off at some guys, though.

Jimmy Soul’s “If You Wanna Be Happy” -- May 18, 1963

If you wanna be happy for the rest of your life, don't marry a pretty woman, marry an ugly woman who can cook. This song makes me laugh. It's dated and problematique. Whatever, I find it amusing.

Lesley Gore – “It’s My Party” -- June 1, 1963

Johnny and Judy are colossal jackasses. They timed starting to go steady at Johnny's girlfriend's party, sheesh. It's all rather unlikely. Considering she's going through something that would be both heartbreaking and horribly embarrassing, Lesley Gore doesn't sound too terribly broken up about it, even if she is supposed to be crying. It's still a good song.

Kyu Sakamoto – “Sukiyaki” (originally "Ue O Muite Aruko") -- June 15, 1963

Kyu Sakamoto had a wonderful voice for pop songs or light tenor roles on Broadway, and he used it well. This is a bittersweet song in Japanese about looking up when you walk after your heart is broken so no one sees your tears -- after your protest movement against U.S. interference in your country fails. Hm. We tend to underestimate how much people in the past knew, and it is entirely possible this song became a hit partly in solidarity with that protest movement. Or maybe because people happened to hear it on TV because of the movement. Or maybe just because it's a pretty song, sung beautifully.

The Essex – “Easier Said Than Done” -- July 6, 1963

The narrator's friends are saying she should tell a guy she's into him, but she can't seem to do it. It's a buoyant little song, but nothing more than that.

Jan And Dean – “Surf City” -- July 20, 1963

This song is explicitly not for me. "Two girls for every boy" sounds no fun at all. And they keep singing it in falsetto. As for the sound, it's an early 60s surf song. Yawn.

The Tymes – “So Much In Love” -- August 3, 1963

The narrator and his fiancee are so much in love, and his backup singers are snapping and woo-wooing to support him in the background. It's nice, and kind of a big nothing at the same time. There's something very assembly line about it.

Little Stevie Wonder – “Fingertips (Pt. II)” -- August 10, 1963

Stevie Wonder was 13 at the time. Which means I don't like this song. He's just too young. Also it's live and sort of all over the place, though it's mostly harmonica. I'll be much happier to hear Stevie Wonder when he's back a few years from now.

The Angels – “My Boyfriend’s Back” -- August 31, 1963

I consider this song close to perfection. It's musically fun and taunting, and the taunting is serious. "Look out now, cuz he's comin' after you." This piece of shit who's been spreading rumors about and sexually harassing the narrator is about to eat dirt. Oh yeah, I love it.

Bobby Vinton – “Blue Velvet” -- September 21, 1963

Apparently David Lynch named a movie for this? I avoid David Lynch like the plague, so that doesn't influence my hearing of the song. The narrator and the woman in blue velvet were in love, but then she "left." It's melancholy enough that I feel she may have died, not just left. Pretty, sad, but that's about it.

Jimmy Gilmer And The Fireballs – “Sugar Shack” -- October 12, 1963

The titular "sugar shack" is supposedly a coffeehouse. I have my doubts. They had to bury implications under a lot of layers in 1963. Or maybe I'm just trying to make the song more interesting, imagining the narrator wants to marry a sex worker and not a waitress. The song is bouncy and bubbly and dull.

Nino Tempo & April Stevens -- "Deep Purple" -- November 16, 1963

I find this song very unpleasant due to Nino Tempo's singing. There's something about it that grates on me, the woo-woo's especially. This is about dreaming an old -- possibly dead -- lover is coming back to you. And it's sure cheery and peppy. Also there's a spoken word section that's not good at all. I do not like this rendition of this song one bit.

Dale & Grace – “I’m Leaving It Up To You” -- November 23, 1963

No Ray Charles this year? I'm in desperate need here. Sigh. Grace's voice is high and nasal and I have nothing to say about Dale. The idea of the song is that they're leaving it up to the other person in the relationship whether to keep going. The lyrics are nothing special, but they're fine. The music is boring except that Grace's voice is like nails on a chalkboard. I don't know how much more stuff like this I can take.

The Singing Nun – “Dominique” -- December 7, 1963

Well, it's different. It’s French. Jeanne-Paule Marie Deckers, the Singing Nun, wrote this cheery song about the founder of her order. He chose poverty and only talked about God, you know the drill. I don't connect with it, and I also have nothing negative to say about it. It's a refreshing song.

BEST OF 1963: My Boyfriend's Back and Sukiyaki in a tie  WORST OF 1963: Nino Tempo & April Stevens' rendition of Deep Purple, though there were many contenders

[belladonnaandulriched]

amped and wired, part two | chapter five: hello darkness

It was quite the awkward walk at first, given Charlie and I had no clothes on—all I had were my pants, and after the big series of erections I had had, and after all of the food I had eaten that day, it was difficult to even keep those up my waist and my hips. And then there was the fact Lars, Scott, and Mrs. Hamilton all remained upstairs at the moment as far as I knew. It wasn't so much I had a discomfort with walking next to a naked man given we had showered together before, and also the fact we were in a strip club together, but rather it was the fact he was completely naked and I was all sweaty. I had my hopes that there would be a shower nearby because I didn't want to go out some place feeling all slovenly and whatnot.

Charlie skirted past one of the tables and he brushed his bare hip against the side.

“Ouch,” he grumbled.

“Oh, shit, you okay?” I asked him.

“Oh, yeah—it's just not often I cut my teeth on a rounded edge...”

Lucky for us, nobody saw us walking towards the front room to fetch our clothes: my hockey jersey still hung off of the back of the chair, as did my coat. I was quick to put on that clean jersey first, while Charlie roamed about the room for his underwear and his jeans. I spotted a pair of pants over by the bar, strewn right on top of that heavy wood. I looked over at him putting on his shorts on the other side of the room when I pointed it out.

“Are these here yours?”

“Right there?” he replied with a clearing of his throat. “I think so, if I remember correctly. I remember the girls lay the both of us on that shelf over there—” I remembered the first time I had come here and I did it with Cindy and Gwen on that very ledge in question. “—and Louise took our pants for us.” He ambled over to me to see them for himself.

He picked them off of the top of the bar and unfurled them out before him.

“Yeah, these are mine. Not sure where she put Frankie's pants at... but then again, it's Frankie's pants.”

“True,” I recalled.

I fixed my hair while he slipped on those pants. I noticed the legs were a bit on the baggy side, more so than I remembered from a mere few days ago when we last saw each other. He zipped them up and I realized my eyes were not fooling me.

“My jeans are getting loose,” he told me, and I shook my head and shrugged at that.

“Are you trying to lose weight?”

“Why would I try to lose weight when our nest egg is a bunch of burnt eggshells?”

My mouth dropped open at that. In fact, when I took a second look at Charlie's face, I noticed it appeared a little bit slimmer than normal. The three of them were bone broke, so bone broke that actual broken bones would break even more bones for them.

He peered over his shoulder to make sure we were alone in there, and then he motioned for me to come closer.

“What is it?” I asked him, to which he brought a finger to his lips.

“What is it?” I repeated in a whisper.

“You wanna know how broke Scott is right now?”

“How broke?”

“Just yesterday, he checked his bank account and found he had negative twenty five dollars.” I gaped at him.

“Negative?” I didn't even know that was possible.

“Yeah. He even printed out a receipt because he knew Frankie and I wouldn't believe him at first glimpse. But when he said that, I realized just how horrible that is to have. To not have, rather. He doesn't even have no money!”

“What about you and Frankie?” I asked him. He stuffed his hand into his one jeans pocket and I caught the sound of coins clinking against each other. He took out a handful of coins: even from there, I could tell he only had a couple of bucks in change. Not enough for even one cup of coffee.

“You sure John and Martha won't answer your calls?” I asked him, to which he nodded his head.

“Like what Scott said, it was like the place burned to the ground and the two of them bounced outta New York.”

“And the three of you almost froze to death because they left you out in the cold.”

“Exactly!” He then snapped his fingers as a twinkle in his eye emerged. “Hey, write that down, that's an excellent line for a song.”

“I don't have any paper, though,” I admitted to him with a shrug of the shoulders.

He glanced about the room for something, and then he lunged for the cash register behind the bar. Voices caught my ear, and I turned my head to find Scott and Mrs. Hamilton striding through that room, both of them completely naked. She had her arm across his shoulders and the look on his face was one of delirium.

“Hey!” Scott called out to me. “There's Joey!”

“The big chief of the hour,” Mrs. Hamilton declared.

“We were just talkin' 'bout you,” he added with a big goofy smile on his face. I looked over my shoulder to see Charlie writing something on the palm of his hand. Probably that line I had said.

“What about me?” I asked them as I adjusted the collar and the sleeves of my hockey jersey.

“How you're such a good boy and everything,” Mrs. Hamilton answered; even for being an older lady, she had quite the nice chest. No sagging or anything like that.

“Lars was talkin' about how you're so sweet that you've been lettin' him stay with you,” Scott added in one fell swoop.

“Where is Lars, by the way?” I asked them.

“He's napping,” she replied. “Poor boy had quite the adventure up there, such that it overwhelmed him. And he's a regular in here!”

“What'cha writin', Char?” asked Scott.

“Pretty kick ass line Joey threw out a little bit ago.” He held out the palm of his hand to the side for Scott and Mrs. Hamilton to see for themselves. “'We almost froze to death because they left us out in the cold.'”

“Ooh, yeah—that's a good one,” Scott agreed.

“See, Joey, you have so much to offer,” said Mrs. Hamilton.

“Well, I dunno 'bout that,” I confessed as I stuffed my hands into my pockets and bent my right knee.

“Aw, come on,” she insisted. “You have so much to offer.”

And then I realized she called me “big chief of the hour.” Huh.

“Tell you what, Joey,” Scott began, “—when we get our shit together, I promise you that on the next record that we'll give you writing credits.”

“Really?” I raised my eyebrows at that.

“Really. Really really. Like after what happened following the incident at the warehouse, you're a good guy, Joey. And now I'm finding out that you're a literal gold mine for things to make Charlie write them down on the palm of his hand.”

Charlie meanwhile shook his hand about to dry out the ink. He then set down the pen back on the shelf behind him.

“You guys wanna get some coffee?” he offered Scott and Mrs. Hamilton.

“Love some coffee!” Scott decreed. “But I have negative money, though.”

“I've got money,” she promised him.

“Big Mama's got us covered,” I said.

“Big Mama's got you boys covered,” she echoed with a grin and a gleam in her eye.

“Let me see if Lars is up, though,” I told them with a raise of both of my index fingers.

“Gives us time to get dressed,” she assured me, and without another word, I skirted past them to double back to the real big room.

I held onto the rungs of the ladder and climbed up to that loft, the site of a queen bed with the covers thrown off of the mattress and a pair of floor lamps made of that real heavy black wrought iron off to the sides. Lars himself lay face down ass up in the middle of the mattress: his hair spread out from one side of his head, over the spot next to him like a smooth blanket.

“Hey—” I called out to him. “Hey—” That time I didn't have something to pull out from under him to get his ass moving. I wasn't willing to pick up the mattress, either.

I did have my bare feet, though.

Even though the rope that Louise had tied us up with was buttery smooth, my skin down on my ankles itched a little bit, especially once I raised one foot to shake the right side of his ass. He groaned as I shook him a little bit.

“Hey!” I called out to him. I lowered my foot and reached forward for a slap on the ass.

“Hey!” he yelped out; he raised his head to better enunciate it a second time around. He turned his head to look back at me, puzzled and a little disheveled.

“What're you doing?” he demanded in a broken voice.

“What're you doing?” I asked him.

“Sleeping.”

“Not by the looks of it, you aren't. Anyways, get up and get dressed. Mrs. Hamilton's takin' us out for coffee.”

“Oh, shit—where are my clothes?” he wondered aloud. “And be careful with my ass, too—Mrs. Hamilton really went to town with that knife handle earlier. What the hell did she do with mine and Scott's clothes?”

“That's what I wanna know,” I said with a brush of that tender ass. He let out a little squeak and clambered into a seated position there on the bed, probably to regather his bearings. I glanced about the loft, past the floor lamps, for his clothes. I figured they might have been buried inside of those covers and that duvet, and sure enough, they were!

“Here, so I won't haveta drum that booty of yours again,” I told him with a toss of his pants at him. He caught the pants on the side of his head and his shoulders, such that he lifted his right leg a bit to show me some of the back of his thigh.

“Don't do that again unless you're sitting on a gold mine,” I scoffed at him. He clasped his pants to his chest so as to show me the baffled look upon his face.

“Do what again?”

“Lift your leg like that.”

“Sit on a gold mine,” he echoed, and put his pants over the tops of legs to protect his genitals. “Where's my underwear?”

I lifted up a pair of little white shorts from inside of a fold in the comforter.

“I believe I have 'em,” I said. “You know, I actually had a pair of white shorts like these once—I have no clue what happened to 'em, though. They were extra short like this, too.”

“And you actually wore them about like real shorts?” he almost laughed at that.

“Yeah, they were real nice white denim—what'd you think I meant?”

He opened his mouth to say something but he was interrupted by the sound of Mrs. Hamilton's voice.

“Lars? Joey?”

“Present!” he called out.

“Heya,” I followed up with a turn of my head and a glance down to her.

“What're you boys doing?”

“Just tryna get Lars' ass movin' up here,” I replied.

“Real New Yorker of you, Joey,” Lars remarked.

“How ya doin',” I said in a low tone. “Like that?” I brought my voice up to my regular voice.

“Like that!” He groped at me for his shorts and I tossed them at him.

“Avert your eyes,” he told me as he held them before him. “Don't look—don't fucking look.”

I stood to my feet and wondered over to the ladder for a look down at the floor below me. I spotted Mrs. Hamilton wrapped up in her skirt and her teddy once again, but this time she had put on that leather jacket over the top of her body. I noticed Scott striding up next to her with those dark eyebrows of his raised and his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets.

They were standing almost a little too close to each other and I wondered what went down up here when the bunch of us were down below having our party.

I heard a zipper pulling up, and I turned to see Lars standing to his feet. He once again looked a lot heavier than I had imagined, and more so at that point—like he had gained about ten or fifteen pounds worth of water weight when neither of us were looking.

“Have you seen my shirt?” he asked me.

“It's probably in there,” I replied as I examined the fuller outline of his body.

There was something Lars hid from us, something that made me think back to the warehouse when we were running out of there. He told us there were instruments on one side of the room, but I didn't see anything there. And then there was the incessant belching. Granted, he did have a reason for that with eating a bunch of meat, but I never saw him with any meat once I gave it some thought. When he let out another one upon putting on his shirt, I caught a whiff of iron.

It made sense.

That didn't mean I had to accept it as truth.

He adjusted his hair and turned to me with his eyes bright and his skin looking warm.

“Shall we?” he offered me.

“We shall,” I answered to him with a raise of my eyebrow. Mrs. Hamilton's laugh caught my ear right then and I could only assume they were growing antsy over there. I led him down the line to the floor beneath us and we ambled over to Mrs. Hamilton and Scott to check to see what they were discussing right then.

“Yeah, I used to have these really gaudy yellow shorts that said 'not' all over them,” he was telling her. “I'd wear 'em all the time—you remember those, Joey?”

“Oh, yeah, they looked like shorts made completely of duct tape, boxed cheese, and yellow caution tape,” I replied.

“So where—wait, where are Frank and Charlie?” asked Lars as he passed them to fetch his coat.

“No clue actually,” Scott confessed. “Charlie just said he'd be right back.”

“And Frankie said he needed to barf,” I recalled.

“They're over here, you guys,” Lars hollered from the front of the club.

“They've been standin' over there for several minutes?” Scott wondered aloud, to which I shrugged. But the three of us made our way over to them: I caught the smell of peppermint, to the point it was right up in my face.

“Damn,” Scott remarked.

“Louise lent me a shitload of tooth paste in a jar,” Frankie said to us with a break in his voice. His breath reeked of that rich peppermint to where Charlie was rubbing his eyes from it.

“Jesus,” I said as I fanned my hand before my nose and my mouth. “God, Frankie, d'you use all of it?”

“Nah, it was just overkill even from using a little bit.”

“Where are the girls anyway?” Lars asked them.

“They're all changin' clothes,” said Charlie. “They told us to get movin' if they didn't want that puke smell to float into their room. It smelled real good in there, too.”

“It did!” Frankie declared. “Last thing we saw before we got outta there was Cindy putting lotion on her chest.”

I sighed through my nose because I was so close to touching those breasts and she swatted my hand!

“I should tell you boys that if we're going anywhere towards Syracuse, you oughta be bringing back those masks of yours,” Mrs. Hamilton informed us in a single breath.

“We're not goin' to Syracuse, though,” I pointed out. “I know a place down near the reservation.”

They all looked on at me with some serious intent. Lars even raised those eyebrows at me, as did Scott.

“Injun,” Charlie mouthed, to which I nodded at him. Mrs. Hamilton poked her head into their dressing room to tell them where we were going, and then she doubled back to the cash register to fetch her keys to lock it.

Meanwhile, we all bundled up inside of our coats and headed out to that burgeoning lake effect cold: I noticed the clouds forming on the farthest side of the valley, right over those cold leafy shores of Lake Ontario. Something told me it was going to snow some time soon—when, I had no idea. I knew I had to say this, though: it was better than being in that hot strip club and getting all sweaty once more.

After what had happened down in the City, I assumed that Mrs. Hamilton found herself a brand new car. But rather, her car was parked on the far side of the lot behind Black Orchid and looking quite forlorn and weary from all that had happened. The front bumper was still crumpled from where we ran into that transformer, and even from a distance, I could tell the hole left behind from the passenger window had been covered with a sheet of plastic and a ream of duct tape. At least the windshield, the roof, and the hood were all clean.

“Don't tell me we're takin' that,” Scott said to her in the same tone of voice you'd expect to hear at the sight of something like that.

“We are,” said Mrs. Hamilton. “Even after all the nonsense down there in New York City, it still runs well and the axles are all still intact. It's just—when you boys pile into the back seat, keep your heads down if you want to stay warm.”

“What about the front seat?” Frankie asked her. She didn't answer.

I sighed through my nose again as we made our way over to the car: Scott called shotgun, which meant I had to be stuffed in the back with Frankie, Charlie, and Lars, but he would be face to face with wind and cold through a sheet of plastic. The whole interior smelled of lemons and a hint of iron, like some of the blood from that one clone got into the backseat somehow. I huddled next to Charlie, who had his one hand up on the bar overhead: I noticed one of the screws holding it to the ceiling was coming loose. One too hard of a turn and whoever held onto that thing would yank it down.

Lars and Frankie squeezed in to the right of me: the skinny boy crammed in between three big guys. One too hard of a turn and the bar would fall and the big guys would protect me. I figured it wasn't too bad after all.

Indeed, the car fired up and the bunch of us drove out of the parking lot behind Black Orchid. We reached the street corner and I wondered if Mrs. Hamilton knew the way there.

“It's on the outskirts of town, right, Joey?” she called back to me.

“...yes? Yeah.”

She turned right and Frankie and Lars bowed their heads down to avoid the blowing of the cold wind through that sheet of plastic. I wrinkled my nose and kept my shoulders hunched up; I envied Charlie given all he did was squint his eyes a little bit, but I knew it had to be rough for Scott. Every so often, he flicked his head back to get that thinning hair out of his mouth.

“How is it?” Mrs. Hamilton shouted over the winds.

“Not bad, actually,” said Scott. “Kinda noisy and the plastic smells funny. But it's better than stickin' your head out of the window, though.”

I brought my coat collar up to the top half of my face. My bangs protected my brow and my eyebrows but my ears were still freezing over from the raw cold coming in from the window. Lars hunkered down closer to me while Frankie was practically laying down in the seat with his knees up against that corner between the back of the passenger seat and the door frame. Cold knees were better than a cold face, I suppose.

We wound our way through the back half of 'Swaygo when I recognized the tall pine trees lining the outside of the reservation. All the memories of my mom and my grandma taking me there when I was a little boy came back to knock me sideways. I had the memory of wearing a little headdress when I was in elementary school during a drum circle still as clear as day when we came closer. Across the street, I noticed a small dim lit cafe that had been there for as long as I could remember. My grandma always got me a hot chocolate there on the extra cold days, like that very day.

Except I was older at that point. But there were times I still wanted a little white mug of hot cocoa and those tiny little marshmallows, especially on a chilly day such as that.

Mrs. Hamilton turned into the driveway a little hard but Charlie managed to hold onto the handle just fine: I took a glimpse up at the handle on the ceiling. That one loose screw stayed in place, much to my relief. But I looked over at Frankie and watched him leaning over a little too hard into Lars' chest.

“Ouch—ow, Frank!”

“Hang on, everybody,” Mrs. Hamilton told us as we bounded into the little gravel parking lot. It was always weird walking around there whenever it snowed: one time I asked my grandma if she would take me sledding there but she swore to me that was a bad idea because I wouldn't go very far.

She pulled on the parking brake and killed the engine. Scott rubbed his eyes and gave his hair a toss back.

“We gotta get you a new car,” he told her.

“We?” said Charlie as he let go of the handle.

“We?” said Frankie with a clearing of his throat and sitting upright.

“We?” I said just because; but then again it wasn't for just because given I knew I was a part of this again now.

“I, I mean,” Scott corrected with a nervous smirk on his face.

“That's real kind of you, Scott, but remember, I'm the one with the money,” Mrs. Hamilton swore to him as she unbuckled her seat belt. “I'm already savin' for a new car.”

“Hopefully you can get a nice big one soon, too,” Frankie added. “I dunno if I can take another ride like that.”

“You?” said Scott.

“You?” Lars echoed.

“Yeah, you saw me—I was layin' on my back like how the girls had me layin' on my back.”

“Except you're cold as ice this time,” Charlie quipped.

“I'm so hot for her, I'm so hot for her, she's so cold!” I sang, which made them all laugh out loud. We all piled out onto the cold gravel and we made our way up to the rickety wooden front door, which I could tell they had repainted given the smoothness of the rich dark red color on the outside: Mrs. Hamilton held the door for me, and then Lars, followed by Scott, Frankie, and Charlie.

The inside was exactly the same from my memory, from the kiss of scarlet on one wall to the cream colored paint job all around to the heavy dark wood making up everything. We were greeted by that aroma of fresh brewed coffee and muffins and scones straight out of the oven in the next room. I was there for a mere cup of coffee, but upon looking out the window, there was a part of me that wanted to take them across the street to check out the reservation for themselves. It had been so long it seemed, the last time I sat in a drum circle or attended a powwow. The headdress on my head during a performance of “Indians” lacked the same feeling to me. Sure, I was in my element when on stage, but there was something else to sitting still and feeling the earth underneath my folded legs.

We took our seats at the big table on the far side of the room, right underneath one of the windows where we could look out at the car and the entrance to the reservation.

“What is that?” Lars asked out loud from across the table. I turned my head and followed his gaze up to something on the wall dividing the window next to us and the one next over: one of those mallets with a long spindly handle and a tattered looking head tied down with twine. It wasn't a tomahawk, I knew that much.

“Looks like a mallet,” I said. “A mallet straight outta the cartoons.”

Mrs. Hamilton offered to get the five of us a round of the coffee, but I kept my eye on the reservation out there. All the memories kept on returning to me with every examination of the trees out there. I also remembered there were sand baths out there, too: embedded in those trees stood a big stretch of fine grayish sand dotted with holes that looked like exhumed grave sites. But they were sand baths: you could lay in one of those and have someone come on over and lay a stretch of sand over you like you would on a beach. But the sands there would help nourish the skin and it felt like someone was holding you all the way around. The experience was not on the same level as laying in bed with a bunch of blankets, but it did have a similar feeling.

Crawling down into a hole, laying down flat on your back, and relaxing into the earth for one teeny tiny little moment in everything with a blanket of fine dirt over your body.

“Penny for your thoughts, Joey?” Lars asked me as he brought his cup of coffee to his lips but did not take a sip. I turned to him and then dropped my gaze to the white bone china mug before me.

“When we're done here, I wanna take you guys across the street,” I said.

“I'm sure we can do that,” Mrs. Hamilton's conceded with a wink before she took a sip. “I'll allow it.”

I was feeling warm again once we headed back outside to that stretch of gravel, but that time around, I had been put into the leading position. This was my history here, my roots, the reason why I put a headdress on my head in the first place. I stood on the edge of the parking lot and glanced about both ways first before I led them across the pavement to the entrance. Suddenly, I was a young kid again walking up that dirt path with my mom and my grandma and it made my heart swell a little bit.

Allow me to just put on a bit of ink in the form of a monarch butterfly upon my chest and run around with the biggest fucking war bonnet I could get my hands on. My soul was lighting up here and shoving itself right into my earhole. The path wound its way through the trees and I found myself in the empty clearing, the site of all the drum circles and whatnot, and I found myself wondering if I could be even more bone broke than the three guys behind me. So bone broke that my bones turn to dust in the wind.

That faint, delicate aroma of incense burning caught my attention. Underneath it was the earthy smell of sand.

“What's that over there?” Frankie asked me. I stared straight ahead to see that very stretch of grayish sand.

“Need a bath?” I offered him. I led the way across the clearing to the sand baths; to my left stood a small wooden shed with an open front, with a shelf covered in towels to accompany with a spot in the sand there.

“I just feel peaceful walking through here,” Scott remarked. “A piece of peace is what we need.”

“What the earth here could need... a piece of the pie of peace.” Lars followed up as he gazed out to the sand baths.

“Peas?” Scott asked him.

“Peas,” Lars said.

“Peas porridge hot,” I muttered, “peas porridge cold... peas porridge in a pot nine days old.”

And yet I could feel something within me. There was something about those memories I had had before then, but something about those memories brought me there to the reservation. I thought back to the conversation I had with Mr. Lang back at my place. He told me to let them figure out how to say “thank you.”

Let them figure it out because I was the one who saved them. Let them figure it out because I was the one who's letting Lars stay with me for the time being.

Let them figure it out... because I was the one who found Maya and dragged them into this mess.

And at that point, I was back to square one, a place I visited as a small boy. A little boy once again with my head clear and the dead weight off of my shoulders.

I also thought about Lars joking about living near here, hence why there were ghosts in my apartment.

It all had to go together somehow. It only made sense to me.

“The music industry is going sideways,” I stated aloud as I gazed on at Lars, who crouched down before one of the open sand baths, “and yet we were brought here. What could it possibly mean?”

I looked out the incoming darkness, out to the rain clouds as they formed around the nondescript outskirts of Oswego. I followed their shape as they extended out towards Syracuse. I looked out behind us to the faint lights making up the skyline of Syracuse, and I spotted some neon. All of that neon like down in New York City. Maybe I was just overreacting, but it made me wonder about things.

I turned back to Lars, Scott, Frankie, and Charlie as they congregated one of the sand baths. I had the weirdest sensation in the pit of my stomach.

Neon. That weird meaty webby shit covering the sidewalks in the heart of Manhattan.

Those clones. Malfunctioning at random times and coming after us. Blood hungry, bizarre, and bloody bizarre. Those clones made of human flesh, including the flesh of our brothers and sisters in the music world.

Me laying on an operating table and having my body sliced open and mutilated while I was awake. That was a dream, but still. It hung with me in my memory.

“What could it possibly mean?” Mrs. Hamilton asked me; the very sound of her voice jarred me. “What do you mean?”

“All of it. Everything that's happened to this point.”

Lars approached us with a grave look on his face.

“There's something odd about this place here, Joey,” he told me. “Like—I'm getting a weird feeling about it.”

“Explain,” I said.

“You know that pit you get in your stomach when something bad is about to happen?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“It's kind of like that.”

In fact, I glanced about the area. There was something off about it: when I came here as a kid, the place was bright and colorful, like anybody could come here, especially if they were like me and Iroquois, despite it being a reservation. All of that was missing. In fact, a lot of it had been replaced by nothing more than low sheds and some benches: the one thing that stayed intact was this piece of sand before us. All the old houses were gone, but a little mausoleum looking building way over by the edge of the trees. Lars' joke about living near a reservation.

You violate the dead in some fashion, and they'll come back for you at some point, especially when they were here first, ya bastard.

Of course.

“The damn clones are going to come back,” I told them. “When is beyond me, though.”

“What do you think we should do?” Mrs. Hamilton asked me in a hushed voice. I stared straight ahead to Frankie and Charlie checking out one of the sand baths near the far side of it. I nibbled on my bottom lip.

“Nuthin' yet,” I advised her. “As far as you, me, your apple danish here, and this bush right here all know, there's not a lot we can do.”

“Yeah, and if we do, we probably won't find much or we are fucked sideways,” Lars added, unfazed by the fact I referred to him as an “apple danish.”

“So just—stand by, rather,” she followed along, “is what you're saying.”

“Exactly.”

“I oughta build a pyramid over your chest, Char,” Frankie was saying.

“Forget the pyramid—gimme a cube.”

“Last thing you guys need is a cube—” Scott quipped.

[firelord-frowny]

I saw a Post about like ~symbolism~ in literature and how a lot of folks kinda instinctively balk at the idea of it in a “cigar is just a cigar” kind of way and it got me thinking some thinkey thoughts that i’ve thought for a long time and like 

For the most part I think people who dismiss that kind of stuff so quickly are just, plain and simple, people who don’t care much about writing as an art form anyway. Sometimes literature just isn’t someone’s favorite way to experience art, and so they don’t feel invested in devoting any amount of brain power to interpreting things beyond what they see on the page. And that’s fine! That’s how I am with most visual art. I just say “ooh, pretty” and leave it at that. I don’t really know or care much about the meaning or intent or what certain colors represent or why the subject has a certain expression on their face. I’m sure an actual artist or someone who’s just passionate about art would be all over that shit! Analyzing and appreciating and theorizing. But for me, it really isn’t that deep. Either I like it or I don’t like it, and I carry on with my day. And if someone insisted that it’s imperative that I learn how to ~interpret~ art, I’d probably be hella frickin annoyed. I mean, would it be a good skill to have? Sure! Any skill, no matter how obscure, has the potential to come in handy in life. But like. We don’t all have the time, energy, or ability to become adept in Every Skill Ever. We pick and choose what matters to us most, and we don’t worry so much about the other stuff. So, that’s how I think a lot of folks feel about literature, and I don’t think it’s necessarily a bad thing that that’s the case. Some people just! Aren’t interested! 

And for me, as a writer, I can honestly attest with 1000% certainty that I never once have intentionally included symbolism of any kind at all whatsoever.... and yet it’s still there. It happens ALL. THE. TIME. where I read over something I wrote years ago and discover large and small ways that I, without even realizing it, used various kinds of symbolism in lots of places. Some examples:

As a character’s mental/emotional state deteriorates over the course of the story, their living space gets more and more cluttered

As a character becomes more detached from their friends and family, their living space becomes more and more barren

A fire (candle, fireplace, campfire, etc) gradually burns itself out as a heated conflict is resolved between two or more characters 

A character’s profession as a photographer highlights his feeling of detachment from the world - the world “happens” around him, but he can’t engage with it. He’s the cameraman - not the subject. 

Golden Gate Bridge representing two opposite things - gates of heaven, and bridge/road to hell 

A character gets abducted by aliens - the character is named after a biblical figure who ~went to heaven while alive~ (I’m honestly BAFFLED at how I managed to coincidentally give the character the name that I did, because I legitimately know jack shit about the bible lmfao. It’s never been important to me to research names before I name a character, because actual parents don’t name their children with foreknowledge of what their future will entail. So I just name them Whatever.)

A character hates thunderstorms. Thunderstorms = unresolved fears and traumas. Thunder/lightning/wind/heavy rain are emphasized in moments where the character must confront their traumas.

A wise, calm character frequently drinks tea. Other characters, when experiencing moments of clarity, are drinking tea, too 

Threadbare bedsheets symbolizing how time wears things down 

Two characters on opposite sides of a doorway - one side, outdoors, is dark and cold and dreary. The other side, indoors, is light and warm and homey. Symbolizes each character’s current place in life. 

An untrustworthy character always approaches people from behind 

A character happens to be standing near a window every time they mention wanting to be free or every time they feel cornered and want to escape

A character who’s turning their back on their friends and family throws away their welcome mat 

A character whose friends and family are never there for them has a welcome mat that still looks brand new after years of no one coming to visit 

Character A allows character B to wear her deceased husband’s coat - character B can still smell the husband’s sweat in the coat. The husband’s presence still lingers in character A’s life.

The steps of the Lincoln Memorial represent neutral ground. I don’t even know why, but all my scenes that take place at the Lincoln Memorial deal with characters meeting there to bury a hatchet between them.

A character, Steven, symbolizes reality. Madison is an untrustworthy narrator bc he’s just fuckin insane, and Nixon is untrustworthy because he’s biased by his feelings for Madison, but Steven’s perspective is always fact-based, and he has very few personal opinions. Steven sets the record straight. 

Nixon = inner peace and unconditional love 

Franky = confidence and authenticity 

Andromeda galaxy = hope for a better future 

Noise = Madison’s current state of mind. Scenes in which he’s overwhelmed and stressed include vivid descriptions of all the sounds around him. Scenes where he’s calm and collected have little to no emphasis on sound.

Madison’s friend gives him a tattoo of a solar eclipse - Madison wonders if he’s meant to be the sun, or the moon in front of it.

Tactile sensation = scenes where Madison feels safe and comfortable emphasize physical sensations like softness and warmth and smoothness. 

Light = Moments of clarity tend to take place in sunlight, especially surrounded by shadow 

Dark = Moments of fear or uncertainty take place in darkened areas 

Characters that bring negative energy tend to stand in a location that blocks light and casts significant shadow 

Characters that bring positive energy bring light into a room, perhaps by opening a door, pulling back the curtains, or literally just turning the lights on

There’s just??? A lot. And none if it is something I do ~on purpose~ in the sense that I didn’t just sit there and go “Ah, yes, this character feels like an outsider who can’t interact with the world, so I’ll make him a photographer.” It just... happens that way. It’s not something I ever consciously practiced or studied or strove for. It’s just what comes out of my brain when I sit and let a scene play out in my head. I emphasize noise when Madison is overwhelmed because that’s just what I experience when I watch the scene in my head. The welcome mat is unused just because when I watch my character coming home and the “camera” pans downward, an unused welcome mat is what I see there. When character B put on character A’s dead husband’s coat and he smelled the sweat, that’s just... what happened! That’s just how it played out in my head! 

It’s not intentional, but it’s there, and it’s there just because it felt like it should be there. And I’m acutely aware that some people aren’t going to catch those things, or they’ll interpret it differently, or they’ll hone in on completely different details that I would have never noticed, but are in fact right there on the page. 

And I think that’s the fun thing about writing and about storytelling and about art in general. We can convey our vision as vividly as possible, we can go so far out of our way to take the reader/observer exactly where we want them to go, but we don’t really have any control over what they ultimately see or think or feel. It could be meaningless to them, or they can draw conclusions you never meant for them to draw. They can uncover your biases and weaknesses and insecurities, your prejudices, your fears. They can completely miss the point, or they can discover things you tried to keep hidden. It’s all fair game. And that’s! What I love about it! What I intend my work to be is obviously important to me, but someone else is only really going to care about what my work meant to them, and it’s almost definitely not going to be exactly what had in mind. I think that’s fuckin great. I think that’s the only way I know how to connect with other humans. 

[caterinasingh]

Speed Meet | Cat & Frankie

@vpholloway

Valentine’s Event, 2020

Note: Each paragraph switches perspective, starting with Caterina

Once again, the buzzer rang, indicating it was time to move on. Caterina gave a wave to the previous person, (rather relived they were leaving - they seemed unable to stop talking about themselves) and readied to meet someone else. A person sat across and Caterina put on a smile, reading over the name. "Good evening, my name is Caterina. How are you enjoying your evening so far?"

Frankie settled in across from the woman and set xir jacket over the back of the chair. She had been vaguely familiar at first, but from the name Frankie was almost certain that they had went to high school together. "Hello. It's Cat Singh, right? I'm Frankie." Xe returned the smile. This event was just as much catching up with people as meeting new ones for Frankie. "And my evening is going great. How about yours?"

The woman blinked in surprise when the other could pull out her name, but then dismissed it. She did write for the paper after all. But there was something about the other seemed familiar. "Yes, that is correct! Have you read some of my articles before?" she questioned, trying to get to the root of why xe knew her full name. "That is great to hear. It has certainly been entertaining, although part of me wishes I could bow out for a minute to people watch, you know what I mean?"

Frankie thought for a moment. "Most likely, but I recognize you from high school. I was only a couple years above you. It's fine if you don't remember me though." Xe looked around at the people in the restaurant. "Observing can be fun, but I do enjoy interacting with people. This event could use more breaks, though." "Oh goodness, I didn't remember you. I feel like I should have. You're an administrator at Edgewood High now, aren't you?" Caterina felt a bit guilty about that, but she had a fairly small circle of actual friends in high school. "I agree. It feels like a whirlwind, I can hardly remember the details of everyone I have met. Regardless, what brings you to this event?" Xe nodded. "That's correct. I'm the Vice Principal now." Xe really wasn't offended to not be remembered, but would take this opportunity to catch up. "I don't think anyone in here expects you to remember what their favorite food or animal is. I'm just here to see new faces around town and catch up with others. It's a fun idea for Valentine's day to have platonic meetings as well." "Is it odd being the Vice Principal of the school you attended?" she couldn't resist the question. Caterina could hardly imagine stepping foot back on the school grounds now. "That's very true. It's all about seeing if there's any chemistry - platonic or romantic. I must say, some of the men here have no idea how to talk to woman, oof," she added in a hushed tone. "I agree. I prefer it to a Valentine's day dance." "In a way, yes, but I no longer remind myself of high school every day. Now it's work." Frankie snorted. "Few do." Regardless of xir gender identity, many men interacted with xim as a cis female. "I don't think they've had a Valentine's Day dance here in years." "Really? How long did it take for that separation to occur?" Caterina couldn't help but snicker in agreement at xir comment. She'd dealt with plenty terrible flirting today. "Really? I remember it was nearly an annual thing during our high school years, but I only recently moved back. Guess I've been out of the loop." "Well, college sure helped. But even when I got back to Ashwood, I guess a few years?" Frankie wished that xir mother had been around to discuss xir decisions and experiences going into education. "I think it was because of a big fight that happened at the dance a few years ago. Some people ran into their ex's and the situation really escalated." Frankie was glad xe hadn't been there. "Where have you been?" Caterina gave a nod at that. Still not something she could wrap her mind around, but  that wasn't what she wanted to learn about zim. "Another fight at a dance? This town is really not meant to have formal dances." But now she wanted to know who had started the fight. Maybe she could dig up an old article. "Oh, I've been all over. Mostly in California, but I was in Eastern Europe for some time as part of the Peace Corps. What did you do before becoming the vice principal at the high school?" "Apparently not," Frankie conceded.  "Wow, that's really cool. To be honest, I haven't left Edgewood much. I just went to college for education and started working right away. What got you into journalism?" The woman grinned at their compliment. "Thank you. Oh, travel is amazing if you can do so. It really helps expand your world view. Part of it was travelling and meeting so many interesting people. Another part was frustration with how the truth can be obscured...or glossed over for preferable tales. I think it is important the truth be told...but what about you?" "I think it's important that people take the opportunities to see the world when they can. Sometimes Edgewood feels like its own little world." That wasn't always a negative thing, though. Some people had completely fulfilling lives in their hometowns. "I'm sure you see a lot of misinformation in your field. It's great that you are driven to fight that, though. As for me, I also hold the truth in high regard. But I understand that truth can be relative. I was a history teacher before joining administration, so I know all about there being two sides to a story." "Day in and out. It feels like I'm sifting through lies sometimes and mining for truth. But thank you. It is fulfilling to finally get to the bottom of different issues." That was a little bit of an exaggeration, but she did still deal with lies more often than not. "I'm sure you deal with it enough being the vice principal, too, huh? Do you deal with students much in administration? I honestly never quite knew what the role principal or vice principal entailed."

"That sounds difficult." Xe laughed. "Yes, we do hear many lies from the students. Like many jobs, it's mostly paperwork and meetings, but I try to be involved with students, more than is strictly required." Caterina gave a hum of acknowledgement. "That makes sense..." there were questions she wanted to ask xim, but none she knew she would get answers to. There wasn't much time left on the clock, but Caterina was terrible at sitting in silence. "How have you been enjoying your evening thus far? Meet any exciting people?" Frankie was fine with the silence that settled for a moment, though xe was aware that the timer was ticking. "It has been going pretty well. I enjoy catching back up with people, such as yourself." Xe gestured towards Caterina. "As for interesting people, I do think that one man was using this event to build his pyramid scheme. He did make selling candles sound very tempting." Caterina beamed at the compliment. "Yes, it really is excellent to reconnect with different locals." Especially now that she had her life together and correct any misconceptions about where she was in life now. "There are pyramid schemes for selling candles? I thought they were usually for management or workout classes, you know?" Frankie shrugged. Xe would admit though that candles made an odd pyramid scheme. Some years selling candles would be a fundraiser for some clubs at school, though. "Yankee Candle should watch its back though." Xe dug in her purse and pulled out a business card then showed it to Caterina. "They even have business cards. What about you? Meet anyone interesting?" The woman couldn't help but snicker at zir comment. "Business cards too?" She eyed them in amazement. "Wow, yeah, these sure do scream that something fishy is going on. I can't say I've met anyone quite that interesting, mostly been reconnecting with people in town...though there was one man parading around as an expert in love. I'm sure you know as well as I do what that means, but from an outside standpoint, he was interesting." "I would have to say that they are well made, but the design choice is a bit questionable. I don't think they are getting a call from me." Xe put the business card back in xir purse, fully intending to throw it away later. Frankie laughed. "I'm honestly not sure that I do, but I don't think I would trust him on it." Caterina let out a hum hearing Frankie's comment. "Well...just that, he thinks he is some sort of womanizer, but he either has a lot of 'notches in his belt, because women have faked it around him', he just think he knows what women want, or some combination of the two. Either way, he knows nothing of women or love is what that means."

Frankie winced. "Oof. He sounds full of himself. And I don't see why they would think potential partners would be impressed by their past relationships?"

Caterina shook her head.  "I can only guess that they think having any experience, regardless of how poor it is, is impressive." Before Caterina could dive any further into the topic with xim, the buzzer rang loudly. "Oh, I guess that is the end of our time. It was a pleasure to catch up with you again, Frankie. Perhaps we should do this again sometime?"

Frankie agreed with a smile. "Yes, it was nice to catch back up with you, Caterina. I hope to see you around."

[c-hristy]

Character Sheet - Franklin (Hazbin Hotel)

Franklin

Character Information - 

True Name: Franklin Magne

Nicknames: Frankie / Frank / The Moon (by Charlie) / Shitstain (by Bea)

Likes: Pranks / Carnage / Murder / Meat / Video Games / Streaming / Smiling / Sarcasm / Peanut Butter

Dislikes: Nativity / Religion / Redemption / Emotions / Humans / Pickles / Low Frame Rates / Yellow

Biological Information - 

Species: Deer Demon / Wendigo

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Gay

Abilities: Wendigo Transformation / Light Manipulation / Playing the Saxophone / Tap Dancing

Professional Status - 

Occupation: Prince of Hell

Relationships - 

Family: Alastor (Father) / Charlie (Mother) / Margret (Sister) / Beatrice (Sister) / Lucifer (Grandfather) / Lillith (Grandmother)

Friends: Valentino / Sir Pentious / Angel Dust / Husk / Razzle and Dazzle / Niffty

Frenemies: Vox / Vaggie 

Romantic Interests: N/A

Enemies: ...just a lot of demons

Franklin Magne is a hell born demon birthed to Alastor and Charlie and by line of succession, the prince of Hell. He has very little empathy or sympathy for the demons in Hell and mainly does whatever suits his fancy, not caring much for those around him.

Appearance - 

Franklin, as an adult, is 7’8”, the same height as Alastor. He is nearly identical to Charlie, only sharing the same ears and antlers of his father. He has the same eyes, nose and blackened lips, as well as the same dark red cheeks that Charlie has. There have been times that people have confused him for Lucifer because of the likness and there have been times that he has used this to his advantage. 

He usually wears a blue sweater and black jeans. The reason why he wears blue is because when Franklin was a child, he had an uncanny ability to just wander off and seeing a blue-clad child was the easiest way to find him among the red landscape of Pentagram City.

 

When in full Wendigo form, his antlers grow and branch and he also grows a few inches in height. His claws and teeth extend. He has double radio dials, much like Alastor, though instead of red, they are shades of grey. His hair grows longer and rougher to the touch and he is impossibly strong - though he has never once been able to defeat Alastor in a fight. He enjoys the terror that his Wendigo form beings and will occasionally allow himself to fall into it just to remind those around him to be scared of him.

Personality - 

Franklin has very little to no empathy. He’s a sociopath and he knows it; when he was younger, he did try his best to latch onto some sort of emotional connection but he was met with failure with each attempt. Because of this, he grew up to be snarky, sarcastic and cruel with a lot of the things he says and does. He does not believe in his mother and Margret’s ideology of redemption, believing that demons who go to Hell are meant to be there; they should suffer for the sins they committed.

He does have a soft spot for smaller things, however. Egg Bois in particular are demons he’s fond of and he enjoys carrying them around and talking to them. He’s an avid streamer of whatever video games he can get his hands on and has garnered quite a following in Hell for his streams. 

Franklin likes to inflict pain and doesn’t feel pain himself; the only times he can remember some sort of negative emotion is when he feels guilty for breaking promises that he made to Charlie when he was younger. He also enjoys protecting his sisters from any wrongdoing, though there have been times that he’s actually became friends with the people who have hurt his sisters.

Background - 

Franklin was born in Hell to Charlie and Alastor, the Princess of Hell and the Radio Demon. Instinctively, he doesn’t care much for the process that goes on around him, though he does have a strong tendency for violence. He has two sisters and he cares for them, though he isn’t quite sure he’s as attached to them as they are to him.

Relationships - 

Alastor:     Alastor is Franklin’s father.

Franklin inherited much of Alastor’s personality and mannerisms, though the distance from empathy is something he had on his own. The two butt heads occasionally, due to Franklin wanting to believe that he is stronger than his father (he gets put back into place rather quickly). Franklin convinced Alastor to come onto one of his streams once and it’s an annual thing now; they’ll get together once a year and play video games on stream for a few hours.

Charlie:     Charlie is Franklin’s mother.

Growing up and still currently, Franklin is a mama’s boy. He respects the decisions she makes in life, though he doesn't believe in her ideologies. She is pretty much the only person he feels he is connected to emotionally and he relies pretty heavily on her optimism in order to feel down to earth. They tend to spend a lot of time reading together or dancing, since they both can tap dance pretty well.

Margret:     Margret is Franklin’s sister.

Franklin doesn’t have a large opinion on his oldest sister; she’s neat and organized, which he can respect. Their age difference, her being seven years older, kept them at a distance that neither knew how to work with. Because of his difficulty feeling emotions, Margret keeps her distance because she’s not able to really handle his manic moods.

Beatrice:     Beatrice is Franklin’s sister.

Bea is five years older than Franklin and she is his best friend. They enjoy pulling pranks and telling jokes together, though he finds much more entertainment out of Alastor’s dad jokes than Bea does. The two were nearly inseparable growing up and he has a much stronger fondness for her than he does for Margret; they share a lot more in common and the age difference doesn’t seem to be that big of an issue. 

Valentino:    

Like Beatrice with Angel Dust, Franklin and Valentino are also best friends. Though there was a lot of drama that happened between Val and Bea, Franklin thought the whole ordeal was hilarious and found himself hanging out around Valentino a lot more. At first, the pimp was against Franklin and tried to deter the demon from latching on, but the two eventually found a mutual interest and then their friendship formed.

Sir Pentious: 

Franklin thinks Sir Pentious as a means for comical relief. The cliche snake demon makes Franklin laugh and he also enjoys being around the Egg Bois; he uses Pentious as a way to be around the little demons. 

Angel Dust: 

Angel Dust and he have a good relationship. When Franklin casually mentioned that he was gay, Angel almost immediately swept him up and the two bonded. 

Husk:

Franklin adores the stories that Husk tells. He thinks the detailed descriptions about how humans fight wars are interesting and fun to listen to. If he’s forced to be at the Hotel, since he tends to avoid it as best he can, he’s usually found at the bar with Husk.

Razzle and Dazzle:

Frankie doesn’t have much to say on the two goat demons; they spend most of their time with Margret and Charlie at the hotel and he doesn’t have too many fond memories of them. He just knows they’ve always been there and aren’t going away any time soon. 

Niffty:

Franklin thinks Niffty is adorable and he has tried in the past to talk to her to become her friend, though she seems to want to not be. He isn’t sure why and continues to pester her, since he thinks that most demons should either be scared of him or love him and there should be no in between and he doesn’t want her to be scared of him.

Vox:

Because of the relationship that Bea has with Vox and the entire process of Franklin becoming Valentino’s friend, the two are passive of each other. Franklin knows that Vox is stronger and way more powerful than he is and chooses not to test that boundary.

Vaggie:

Franklin isn’t sure why, but he knows that Vaggie doesn’t have the greatest opinion of him. He supposes it’s because of his urge for violence and death, though he can’t quite put his finger on it. He doesn't ever remember a time where the two of them had any good memories together.

Trivia - 

-Jakarva came up with the name Franklin, as well as the names for Margret and Beatrice.

-Franklin means ‘landowner of free’ or ‘free man’.

-Franklin constantly pushes Alastor’s temper. There have been times during Franklin’s childhood where Alastor has threatened to eat him, to the point where he has nibbled a finger or two of Franklin’s to get him back in line.

    -Charlie has absolutely forbidden Alastor from actually eating Franklin, though the younger demon doesn’t know that.

-Frankie consistently eats the family cat. When the cat reappears, since it wasn’t killed by an angelic weapon, he lets the cat live for a few months before he gets bored of it and eats it again. Both Bea and Margret hate when he does it and they do their best to keep the cat away from him.

-Franklin doesn’t see himself getting into a relationship anytime soon; he sees most demons as inferior to the point where he would be uncomfortable with being with one.

-He is frequently touchy and continuously forces himself into everyone’s personal space, though he would snap if anyone where to enter his without permission. 

-He plays the saxophone quite well and Margret hates it because he continuously will only play songs that are memes.

-Franklin is a total memelord. 

-Keeping with memelord status, he can play the mash up of Sandstorm and Never Gonna Give You Up on the sax. 

-He swears that he taught Alastor how to floss, whip, etc, but if we're honest, he really didn't. 

-Franklin is probably the funniest character to write, and by god, even if he can’t feel a wide range of emotion, he’s still hilarious (and he knows it).

((If you so decide to use him, give me and @trinswhimsys a tag! We like to see any use. Please don't use him without tagging / permission, thank you, we are protective of our beanie boy))

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