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dateamonster · 11 months

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webcomics*! webcomics baby!!! i grew up reading these bad boys like they were the sunday funnies. im serious i would get up early in so i could check my daily roster of webcomic updates before leaving for school.

webcomics sort of feel to me like my generations version of zines. not that both those things arent still around, i just mean that, in the same way that there was this big boom of super creative zine self-publishing in the 70s through the 90s thanks to the increasing access to copy machines, and later home printing, the early 00s-10s was sort of the moment people seemed to collectively realize they could kind of just upload whatever they wanted to the internet and people would actually see it, leading naturally to another boom in indie art and storytelling.

a lot of the comics that popped up around this time were sort of... rough. raw. weird. there were no rules about what a webcomic had to be other than 1) a comic and 2) on the web, so there was some freedom to be as messy or as precise as the author wanted. this led to some real bangers, and some absolute flops. but regardless of how it turned out i think theres something to be admired about the sheer amount of creativity going into these projects that, for the most part, were purely passion-driven without any guarantee of greater recognition or success.

obviously webcomics are still around, but the culture surrounding them has shifted quite a bit. most people who are willing to put in the work of a longform serialized comic In This Economy are also doing so with the hope of being able to profit or at least sustain themselves financially on their work. theres no shame in that! but it has made the webcomic scene more competitive, more polished, less experimental. capitalism at work, you know.

people arent really as incentivized to try new things and dare i say get a little weird with it when innovation doesnt pay the pills. however that doesnt mean that there arent still artists out there who are challenging that.

i got the idea a while ago that i wanted to put together a list of webcomics that have been really influential to me and my own creative efforts, but i realized that list would be a mile long and wouldnt really give me the breathing room to talk about why those works resonate with me. so i decided instead to make a list specifically of my (currently) most beloved, most influential webcomics that i feel like are doing something unique that sort of pushes the boundaries of what is considered a "normal" comic.

presented in no particular order, with all attempts made to be spoiler-free, below:

nasty red dogs and feast for a king by kosmicdream (18+)

delicious, dark, meaty comics. ffak in particular is like this massive sprawling scifi stream of consciousness thick with blood and viscera and. a lot of highly transsexual erotic cannibalism tbqh.

personally i find nasty red dogs a lot more like easy to get into story-wise, but both are just chockablock full of this beautiful grotesque unapologetic and downright indulgent physicality. its pages dripping with every fluid you can think of and some you cant, and its also compelling surprisingly empathetic characters set against a backdrop of otherworldly rituals, cosmic pre-apocolypses, and worlds inside of worlds inside of worlds. body horror heaven lives here.

mr boop and crimehot by alec robbins (very 18+)

if youre at all into weird webcomics youre probably already well familiar with mr boop, and if you arent theres really nothing i can say other than Please give it a shot, but if you havent been keeping up with alecs work since then you might not be as familiar with his current project crimehot. and thats a damn shame because it is all the comedy, unabashed horniness, and surprisingly understated storytelling of mr boop taken to its absolute max.

crimehot is set in a future where nearly every aspect of human life and culture is controlled by an all-powerful all-seeing computer algorithm. but who cares about all that when theres a ragtag team of ultra sexy ultra horny master thieves going on wacky little misadventures together!

alecs style is blunt and simplistic in a way that comes off as juvenile at first glance, and then uses that presumption to completely blindside you with its actual content, reminding me weirdly enough of memeable classic tails gets trolled. in spite of their potential as works of ironic comedy however alecs comics really give me this impression of total earnestness. crimehot in particular is so blatantly un-erotic, with its complete lack of any subtlety, comically exaggerated (and surprisingly diagetic) anatomy, and impossible physical positions, that it circles back around into becoming, indeed, kind of hot. i think silliness can be hot so sue me!

blind alley by adam de souza

departing completely from my last couple recs, blind alley is a cozy, peanuts-inspired comic strip about the day to day lives of the children of blind alley. its also occasionally a deeply unsettling horror-mystery that has just barely begun to show its hand more than two years in. its distinguishing factor to me comes from the fact that the cozy exterior doesnt seem to be there to conceal or divert your attention away from the growing sense of unease that infiltrates its panels on an increasingly frequent basis as the story progresses. it feels more like the two elements live side by side, horror and mundanity, otherworldly creatures and secret conspiracies living peacefully alongside lazy summer afternoons and goofing off with your friends. it perfectly captures the anxiety of knowing that theres something the grown-ups arent telling you, the powerlessness of being a kid.

blind alley feels to me sort of like if those "what if Nostalgic Cartoon was secretly DARK" media theories were actually real, and actually scary. i might be getting ahead of myself as the series likes to take its time and is really only just starting to peel back the layers, but what ive read so far feels makes me feel like this could be something very special.

boy island by leo fox

beautiful beautiful beautiful first of all. the dreamy, surreal visuals? the colors?? oujhjh.. boy island is set in a world split violently in two, divided into boy island and girl island, and surrounded on all sides by a sea of monsters mutants and ghosts, those sorry souls who committed the trespass of trying to cross from one land to the other, or even live outside of either! a boy named lucille must strike out on his own to make it to boy island, but in doing so begins to discover things about the world and in fact himself that reveal an even greater mission.

im making this all sound very dramatic. its a trans story. its about trans people, being trans. its also about surviving the ripples of a world laid out for you by your parents, managing grief for the ones that didnt, and a funny little blue guy named jounce. also did i mention its gorgeous? hot fuckin diggity it is gooorgeous.

vivians ghost by hal schrieve (18+)

speaking of trans comics!! (plot twist: theyre all trans comics suckerrrr) look, all of hals comics are fucking baller and im sure the book zes got coming out will be too, but ive like Imprinted on this one. its attached itself my brain. much like the main protagonist collin has been attached to by his suicide victim best friend and ex highschool bf viv!

the sketchy art style threw me off at first but it quickly becomes part of the charm and meshes very well with the chaotic pace and gutpunch emotional moments. theres a strong element of magical realism that i honestly think comics as a medium were made for. viv is a ghost, and viv is grief, and guilt, and fantasy, and shame, and glorious trans revenge taken form, and hes not even the only apparition in this story, taking the stage alongside cameos by jesus christ, a detransitioners fursona, almanda palmer, and (checks notes) gonzo for a second there i think.

as a disclaimer (or incentive, depending) no one in this story i think is someone you could really call a good person. some of them are in fact plainly terrible. they are all so undeniably fucking fascinating though. and viv himself gleefully inhabits that moral gray area, deliberately and loudly disturbing any image of himself as a pure perfect victim, blurring lines and thrusting both the characters and audience out of their comfort zone. its a challenging read thats not going to be everyone for sure, but i definitely think its worth the read.

(and if this sounds interesting to you but youre not sure you can handle it, hal has other equally good comics that are still heavy on the trans gay relationship drama but much lighter on the childhood trauma.)

what happens next by maximumgraves

if youre reading this on tumblr i hope that youve at least heard of what happens next by now. thee seminal tumblrina art of our time i swear. it starts with a true crime podcast exploring the strange story of griffin and his accomplice milo, trans teen murderers, the latter of which has since been released from the psych hospital while the former continues to serve his sentence. but thats in the past, and in the present milo still has to figure out how to live the rest of his life.

the story moves rapidly, though not necessarily chronologically, in and out of the real world and the online lives its characters frequently inhabit like its guiding you through a twisted dream. its a comic on the internet about the internet from someone clearly well aware of its more poisonous aspects, as well as the addictive quality it can have for someone who has become otherwise isolated from the world.

at the end of the day though the major appeal i think is the characters, how messy and horrible and tragic they can be, which is all you can really hope for from a largely character-driven narrative. to say much more i think would ruin the experience, but ill say what happens next absolutely delivers on its ominous title, and im waiting on the edge of my seat for the next chapter.

preeny has to repeat 6th grade by momodriller

on a Much lighter note, preeny has to repeat 6th grade is a super cute adventure series about a magical little kitty named preeny who on her first day of sixth grade is called upon to go on a great mission. its a sparklefur comic!! ive been really starting to dive into furry art lately, and if youre the kind of person who raises an eyebrow at that statement, fine, whatever, but im talking to the cool people right now so keep it to yourself.

art from within the furry subculture is such insanely creative and passionate stuff, and the focus on this subset in particular, calling back to the early 2000s deviantart xD rAWR s0 rand0m era of online culture, feels so intensely nostalgic it makes my chest ache, despite never being heavily involved in the sparklefur scene myself.

the author states in the comics description that the story takes inspiration from her experiences as an autistic child, and even before reading that man i felt it. what really makes this comic unique to me though is that the majority of characters that appear are based on adoptables the author purchased off of, as she puts it, the children of deviantart. i LOVE that. not only is that probably amazing for the kids, it makes every character feel truly unique and adds perfectly to the overall flavor of the world shes created. there is just not another comic i can think of that feels alive like this one.

broccoli soup by secretpie

ok so i know how we might feel about webtoon comics but hear me out. broccoli soup is probably the first comic ive seen to really exploit the otherwise sort of bland and restrictive format of webtoons, utilizing the excess of white space to enhance the feeling of emptiness that characterizes the protagonist broccoli's time in the blank void they call home as well as to make the sparse use of color really pop in contrast.

broccoli soup is a mysterious series thats a little hard to pin down in terms of genre. a strange little being named broccoli spends their days in a vast blankness drinking tea with their loving yet highly suspicious Best Friend and benefactor, doris. doris has the ability to move between worlds, coming and going as she pleases, while broccoli is only allowed to leave when they are on a mission on her behalf. these missions vary, but the goal is always the same: make everything Polite and Good.

as the story progresses, little by little more friends and more color come into broccolis still new existence. the art style also changes from world to world, which imo is a very nice touch. and! theres music! its an interesting project that dances back and forth between fantastical whimsy and some surprisingly dark moments. and thats the shit i like to see.

thats all for now! though if im lucky there will be many more fun stories and projects to talk about in the future. keep in mind as well that this is like barely half of all the webcomics im currently reading, just the ones that most stick out to me as really doing something special.

until next time yall!!

oh wait sike honorable mentions time

awful hospital by bogleech

the only reason this isnt up there with the rest is bc im woefully behind at the moment. ill get back to it eventually! awful hospital is an interactive multimedia horror-comedy webcomic about a hospital that is. well this hospital is simply sub-par to say the least.

hedgehog's dilemma by mellodilla

this ones still a little new to say much on but so far it looks like a cute series. what most appeals to me is that the art style looks like something that fit in seamlessly with an early 90s newspaper comic strip. in particular it has a strong calvin and hobbes vibe to me. just, you know, about wacky lil lesbian animals living their lives.

ok now im done for real

*for clarity's sake, im using webcomic here to mean "a series of comics that was first published and predominantly exists online" so even if a print version exists, i still consider it to be first and foremost a webcomic. this also includes comics that contain a multimedia or interactive element. if its a combination of pictures and words to tell a story, its a comic.

also my list is probably going to end up massively favoring serialized fiction because thats just what i like to read, but i dont necessarily think thats a required element.

#ungodly screeching #recommendations #kinda off topic but also kinda not lol #this got way out of hand #oh also if i got anyones pronouns wrong pls let me know! i tried to track everyones down

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pwblogarchive · 2 months

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June 2007

June 4, 2007

goodbye the longest year of my life.

sometimes i want to blow my head but not in a hottopic kind of way.

i am global warming.

i am toxic.

sometimes i am glad i saved everything for a rainy day.

i am a wish.

i am under your skin.

i love you and life:

separate but never equal.

fuck it.

its all okay.

"Too young to hold on and too old to just break free and run..."

posted by xo at 8:05 PM

June 6, 2007

“its easy to get older not so much wiser”

"pooh"

"yes, piglet"

"nothing, i just wanted to be sure of you"...

posted by xo at 8:40 AM

June 7, 2007

“fuck the palm readers, i love mirror breakers.”

i have an obsession with sitting inside a confessional in church and hearing someone else spill their guts for once.

id almost take an oath for it.

get me out of new york.

this city only gets me up to making bad decisions.

love, the last boy.

posted by xo at 10:40 PM

"the christian in christian dior, damn they dont make them like they used to anymore..."

if i bashed your head in how good would the secrets be that poured out.

posted by xo at 4:00 PM

June 9, 2007

“late night snack”

the light splashes in and out. its almost violent. everything rational inside of me tells me that its the dull white of a voicemail. but my eyes are playing tricks on me. i see it purple textured velvet. the tv is blaring whatever. i can see light is sneaking in the cracks everywhere of this suite. like vermin. take a vote, the eyes have it. there is too much space here. between me and everything else in this room. i wish i had a habit bad or not just to pass the time. just trying to fight the big black sadness.

June 9, 2007

“sic transit itum”

Theres an opposite to deja vu. They call it jamais vu. Its when you meet the same people or visit places, again and again, but each time is the first time. Everybody is s stranger. Nothing is ever familiar.

This isn't learning from my mistakes anymore so much as it is damage control. I might as well be trying to paint a house that's on fire.

Posted by xoat 11:33 PM

June 11, 2007

“counting sheep and you.”

tour life has got my fingers spitting from a pornographed philosophers mind. girls with bruises in designer patterns. too full off the diet pills to be hungry for iceburg lettuce and water lite when it shows up. i trapped you in my head a long time ago. i am a treasure chest filled with trash. two orders: one near tears and one beer tears. just put em on my tab.

dont you dare tell me about true fucking love. i spit and punched and blood for it. and now i want to sleep inside of it.

June 12, 2007

“cantsleepcantsleepcantsleep”

dont you feel bad for the suicidal cat thats stuck with 9 lives.

my head only goes from zero to rage.

like a domesticated animal giving into instinct.

carved our names into a tree

and i dont care that i saw it first in some movie.

i think ill always go back and see if it sticks.

i feel like the santa maria. like i got there just after the discovery.

heads like this are gonna go extinct.

posted by xo at 5:53 AM

June 14, 2007

“lullabye.”

everybody is dropping like flies.

the truth is i am a slave to my head and my thoughts, not the other way around.

i am the hand up the skirt of this moment. over underwear, under pants.

under medicated. underwhelmed.

me and you in a not so private corner.

duke it out with our lips and teeth.

ill find the love if its there between your cavities.

dust it off.

its a cold hard ride back from where ive been.

what ive seen.

and what ive done.

or how ive come undone.

apples that make your teeth bleed

love that makes my heart coma-

keep careful count of your tears in that corner-

the market is shit.

they arent going for what they used to.

keep em in a jar-

bury them in a wine cellar.

so you can remember when you felt like just a madman.

im a trust junkie.

i need a fix.

i have so much i want to say. none of it is eloquent or poetic- referencing change and belief- lies and betrayal. how sometimes this ride doesnt feel fun anymore, when the press is controlling it. i will post when i have formulated all of the thoughts. i am tired of constantly defending this, its enough to defend it to the world- but to defend it to believers has drained me. i am only human, a kind of lousy one at that. i am 1/4 of this thing that has felt magical to me for so long. i dont want to lose it. i hope this makes some sense.

i hope i am a boomerang on its way back not some stone sinking in the sea.

thank you to everyone who has stood beside this and me- in both the light and the dark. it means more than a handshake or hug or song,,,

on a good note. the video felt genuinely fun to make. so thank you for taking part in it. the smiles are real.

goodnight.

posted by xo at 11:49 PM

June 17, 2007

“i may be just a dime store prophet. but youre a dollar store whore.”

so i guess i am on the up. thunder on runways cant even kill the boredom. the tips of my fingers bruised from the letters on the typewriter. but if feels so much more final than this. and that is why i love it. and i said the last time i was put in handcuffs it was over a can of spraypaint. she said 'someday i want to spraypaint with you". and that is why i love her. in a backyard, lying on the couch on a sunday kind of way. one that is not explained or thought out. but runs up the back of your legs to the back of your head and crashes out of my mouth whenever you show up. what keeps your head together when you feel the tilt and spin of the world. what keeps those club jaws grinding in between the trips to the bathroom. the best week never. theyre taking stabs at me while im leaning and yawning, but sometimes YOU get through. pinpricks become blackholes and i feel my moods pulled into them. whats up with my obsession with your obsessions. been writing so much lately the paper is starting to add up. theres a part of me that wants to take a match to it sometimes late at night- the same part inside that cant walk next to balconies for fear that i am going to jump off of them.

i can make a mess of anything. but its strange to say when a stranger can bring you peace. you just swaying in the heat of the meet and greet. a face and a voice i dont know. just a tap on the shoulder and a "keep your chin up" from you. but there was a kindness there that brought me back. thank you.

June 19, 2007

so obvious but: i fucking hate this sugar free low carb diet world. i want the wild fucking west. i want love in handcuffs. i want more scars. i dont want this fucking future. meth bake sales to lower global warming. sweat shop work to burn calories. i hope this ship burns before it sinks. i hope this planes air goes bad before it crashes. i dont want this to be an affair anymore, i want to walk down the aisle with catastrophe. lets go to hell just for the weekend. your happiness is making me miserable. waste the time of my life. and if that mocking bird wont sing, im gonna buy you a diamond ring.

i only feel in love on the stage and on the side of a pillow. everything in between just makes me wish myself to pieces. please dont put me back together, keep me in a box under your bed.

June 20, 2007

i hate explaining my own interpretations to people. id rather you come up with your own- but this one seems to be pretty glaring....

there is a distinct difference between the idea "seasons change, but people dont" and the idea "everyone changes". this difference is simply the connotations of the two. in the former: the idea is brought forth that there are certain parts of you that are inherently there. forever. whether they are a part of your DNA or how you were raised- they are so deep and solidly rooted they cannot change. to me these are your ideals, your morality, your internal monologue. they remain constant though are defined differently as your mind and heart mature. to simplify, people who are kind have something switched on within them that will not change. on the other extreme malicious people will always be malicious. not to say there isnt gray area between the two- where someone who is kind can act maliciously and vice versa. obviously there are more rare examples where something can impact someone in such a tremendous way that it will cause a deep change in them. these remain constant through celebrity, through tragedy, through happiness, through loss. i can feel certain things in myself and ways that i know i will always feel- no matter what else changes around me. if you read my actual diary entries from when i was 14 to now, while the language and subject matter has changed- and hopefully has gotten a bit better. my subconscious impacting me and my decisions seems to remain faithful. however, what was meant by the latter "everyone changes, i used to be tiny", is the idea of growing up. honestly, i am not who i was a year ago or 5 years ago or 10 years ago. i think i would hate myself if i never changed. this is an experiment more than anything. if new cultures, people, and art didnt impact me and change me than this would be fraudulent. we expect any of our fans who have been with us from the beginning have grown and changed. i hope most of these changes are for the better, though i know i am human and make mistakes. sometimes i turn right when i should have turned left. but anything you loved or hated about me from the beginning have not changed- these are the things that make us each different from each other and either magnetize or polarize from others.

June 22, 2007

“the AMERICAN dayDREAMer - die-a-tribe”

when they rip the tickets i hope im on the ride with you. sleepless in seattle and pretty much everywhere else- wont bore you with the details, but actually i probably will. you dont have to be a train to come off track. dont have to have feathers to flee the coop. i dont gotta tell you about my adventures, i keep them in my head and forget them and remember them every once in awhile. i watch them on projector screens while you are talking about your magazine or countdown. were flypaper baby- but nothings sticks. molded from teflon and porcelain. doesnt take much shining around for you to want to get back under that rock you crawled out from. i found a point when i was searching for pointlessness. i found a love when i was looking for madness. gonna save your sweat for when we get to heaven. autocratic hearts and throats- tongues loving on the skin and words- listening too carefully and robbing them of their beauty. you only think im blooming when im wilting on the outside. dying to be dearly forgotten, not wrongly remembered. florescent yellow in the toilet bowl. i love holding strangers hands, pulses matching, beating just off the p.a. speakers. you dont have to sell me on how this isnt real, cause my guts are whats in deep not my head or my heart. sometimes i get the feeling when i walk into a room like im in some movie from the forties where ive been shipwrecked and marooned on a desert island, only to return to a life that is no longer mine. or maybe just a raft adrift, except i slept through the s.o.s. calls. the caveman frozen in ice analogy works as well, only i am too lazy to transcribe it. im projecting. im bobbing and weaving. im deflecting. only cos i want to mean more than all of this. i lost it at woodrow and nichols, brakes ground to my teeth. just a kid strung out on neon lights

June 26, 2007

dear man in the mirror: get over yourself.

i love it when people wonder how its gonna end.

my right hand is fucked.

boxers fracture im pretty sure and a cut down the front that we super glue every night.

if i shake you yr hand with my left thats why.

im clumsy-

with both actions and words.

what happens in vegas stay in vegas except for when brendon hit me with a bowling ball.

deaths just the other bookend on this thing, so who cares.

posted by xo at 12:28 AM

June 28, 2007

The world is your oyster, what does that mean? That I'm just grinding sand waiting to be sucked down by box dye blondes and chased with hynotik. .... dumb-luck, but there's no such thing as smart luck. Think It got us kicked out of vegas. Happy as a clam but how happy can clams be? Dreaming of being steamed or robbed of their only worldly possession, pearls, sounds like a total soccer mom fantasy- only with upscale spas and mugger fantasies. I am a starfish waiting to regenerate a point. Till then, I am kind of pointless. I got a bad rap for not caring but I still pay taxes and wear my seat-belt in back seats- though I'm considering changes. I am a fixer-upper. Feeling the buzz but too far off the hive for any of the other bees to get it. And man I gotta tell you, the years are like friends in your old hometown. They stop being so friendly. They only want to reminisce. And no matter what they keep moving and changing you whether you want them to or not. The doctor says I need to stop talking with my fist and do more talking with my mouth. I told him I was never too great at that either- that it was usually my mouths talking that had to get my fist involved in the conversation. He said well then I had better start throwing a good left or hope I can play bass one handed. Neither seems too reasonable right now. Thinking maybe I should just stop all together. I order every movie in hotel rooms just so I don't feel alone. Its a very home alone moment for me, you know without the holiday music and cute culkin looks, but I'm hoping you are catching my drift anyway. Yes, for those who wonder there are other journals online. Sometimes I kind of leave bread-crumbs to get home to them for you. Sometimes I just space out. I also have a pen and paper diary and some letters and what not that I have been typing on my typewriter. I've been working on other visual art too, nothing I like well enough to show anyone. Its more for my own piece of mind. Drive, fuck, and sleep safe. I'd like to know that you awaken in the morning with out a headache or blurry eyes. Love is in the air, just get ourselves the right equipment to grab it. Its like moths headed for the brightest light, which aint me. But I'm ready to sweat and run and get there. And just cause you got a scar on your wrist or a charcoal stomach, were supposed to get eachother? Cause I don't really even get me. I'm too busy calling everyone else crazy- in these late slurred debates on how everyone else is not exactly like us- to worry about you calling me crazy. Tho all the other rhymes for crazy work on me lazy, hazy, etc.

someone has some great pictures of this past week. if i find any, ill post some.

June 28, 2007

from pete's friends or enemies blog

June 28, 2007

“the pretend”

i never really appreciate the compliments people give me. i feel like people say them because they feel like they have to- "youre hot"- except in my head i dont see myself that way so it doesnt mean a thing. "you played great tonight"- except i probably didnt because its not really my thing. "i love your words"- except they only make sense to me out of patricks mouth. "i love you"- but you wouldnt if you knew me. and so on.

but the other day my friend told me: "you have an incredible sense of the pretend". and it made me shake. just in the way that its all i believe. i dont care too much for the ins and outs of the world we are inside. i like the one in my head far better. it is not chronological or pragmatic. but it meant alot to me.

as did this...

so i cant fully remember writing this entry. that is because my brain is scattered and resets all of the time. the only thing i save room for are faces and memories. maybe it is a collection of entries. but apparantly someone cared enough to remember or patch together an entry from a year ago... so thank you (i think they made little changes or additions here and there). its funny because i am in vancouver all over again, it rings so much more true now.

"and like florence nightingale and nurses through history. we fall in love with those were protecting and curing. we dream big and then wake up everyday and hunch over computer screens. and everytime we let our fingers go it amounts to a little more than the worlds smallest violin paying just for you. here i am half asleep between vancouver and salt lake city. can't remember the last time i had a conversation with you that wasn't from between the dotted lines of the highway. i don't want sheep or parrots. i feel like we have a vested interest in each other. it's love of sorts. you were there in the beginning, you've stuck around when everyone else climbed aboard, i hope you're there when it's gone. for all the times we've come off course, you have always served as a compass. steady. unforgiving. at times hard to find. but you were always there. this probablly isn't worth your time to read. but as long as you do we'll keep playing small, secret shows. we'll keep writing this. we'll keep ignoring what they say. this is we- everyone- the haters, the newbies, the so, the ckk, ock. a collective [[sigh of relief]]. everyone always asks what's the cure of growing up? this is it. it's you. the smiling faces screaming and 'doging' security in the front row. the kid that waits outside after the show until their hands are blue just to say hi. don't ever let me fucking forget it. we don't deserve this. but now that we got it. we will do our best to keep it like a kiss in the corner of our mouths. for our heads to your speakers, to your ears, to your mouths, to you, your fingers, to us, to our mistakes, to our heads and back. the new songs are coming. what if for one moment we became everyone we dreamed we could be? there is a buzzing from outside of this darkened room. as though if i walked down the hallway past their sleeping faces, red in the warmth of the afternoon. i would walk into the first day of my life. light gleaming off the windshield- like the wizard of oz after the color washes over everything. like i could start all over again- only with the same faces that are imprinted on my heart forever. and my same bed. and dogs. and ex- loves. and friends. save your troubles for another day, they wern't at the end of the hallway. baby boy, you're too busy writing tragedy to notice. we're shaping up to do big things. and you're nothing special. except.. what if you are? "

posted by xo at 8:01 PM

June 29, 2007

as did this...

June 30, 2007

I have a new girlfriend

The iphone.

posted by xo at 4:46 PM

#fall out boy #pete wentz #livejournal

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remsmoonlight · 3 years

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— title : don’t leave me lonely

— word count : 3 k words

— pairing : daryl dixon x reader

— summary : when the protective instinct that runs deep within daryl you can’t take how much of a child he treats you, only when words spoken in anger do you both see the truth.

— warnings : swearing, one instance of blood description, vague mentions of daryl’s past and just some general angst

I've heard you're taking requests, soo, Could you please write something with Daryl and 20+62 from prompt list?

Thank you in advance and have a nice day ❤️

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　requested ? yes ! / requests are open *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

prompt list : 20. “Those things you said yesterday… Did you mean them?” && “ After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?”

Pale grey pavement is being painted with the blood of the walkers you had to slaughter in order to survive, to make it back to your family. You dare not speak a word, already predicting a storm awaiting to drench you in its anger that currently forms within the man you slowly began to love. You can’t pinpoint exactly where you began to have these thoughts, experience these feelings, as it hasn’t been an easy road. Loving him is not uncomplicated, the image he shows the world is harsh, though his actions speak louder than his words.

You’re stuck following him and Aaron, the man sparing apologetic glances back every few metres. He has nothing to apologise for, he was simply a bystander to a very awkward encounter between the two.

“ the hell y’doing out here? “

For a moment, your world stops. You hadn’t expected to see anyone out in the secluded area of the greenery that surrounds Alexandria, the whole idea of going from fighting for your life every day to pretending the world isn’t dead is not a pill that is easy to swallow. A potentially horrid coping mechanism, but you have to remember what it’s like out there, to not be protected by steel walls. To pretend you still have to sleep with one eye open, if anything was to ever happen to anyone you love because you allowed your guard to be demolished by a faux safety you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself.

A timid smile arises on your expression, almost apologetic. You shrug in response to Daryl’s question.

“ y’got no brain now? “ stomping towards you, his eyes burning with outrage and alarm, he doesn’t trust this new situation with you in it.

“ not here, Daryl. “

Trouble has a way of finding you, the unfamiliarity of everything touching the fear that he prays to stay dormant within the walls of Alexandria. At least with you confined to the area he can see clearly, he doesn’t have to imagine the worst possible outcomes to prepare himself for the inescapable of what always happens.

He can’t lose you, he can’t tell you either.

Eyebrows raise in shock over the suddenness of his heated words, never once had he spoken to you in such a way. Even on the rare occasion he was genuinely annoyed with something you had done. You force your features to stay neutral, not wanting a war in front of Aaron, considering you haven’t known him for long.

A mirror image is the displeasure that has stewed within you, the very same of the Dixon man you had shared the road with. Who does he think he is? You ask yourself, that outburst was for no reason and you know it. It’s times like these that confuse you and your feelings for him.

Though you hear no footsteps behind you, you can feel Daryl’s presence stalking you closely, but you pay no mind. Not in any mood to talk, afraid for what you will say in anger.

A temper is something you control, though there are moments it wants to smash down your walls.

With a heavy breath set free into the air, you turn the handle of your home open, leaving it open for Daryl as you know it’s going to be a conversation he will wish to continue. For a rather quiet man, when he wants to, he can say a lot.

Turning to face him, you wet your lips to say something, hoping to calm him before the situation gets out of hand. Hoping to get an idea of why he is so irate, though your expression hardens ever so softly as you realise that he’s most likely going to continue on the tirade he began outside of the walls. Your heart thumps against your ribcage, almost rattling your entire being with anticipation. Being able to hold your own in conflict is something you are able to do, but it doesn’t mean it leaves no scars to litter your soul.

“ okay, so what was that out there, Daryl? “ your words are soft, almost to the tune of a whisper as you question him. Hoping to understand his point of view.

“ y’really gotta ask that? “

Your lips purse, you merely blink in his direction as you shift your weight from one foot to the other. Your heart is full of hurt as he treats you as nothing more than a stranger with the heat that coats his furious words that he hauls in your direction.

It confuses you incredibly how the day has gone to hell so swiftly, but you warn yourself about that. Assuming once dawn breaks that the day will bring something good for once, and not news of another tragedy. Even protected by the stereotypical image of a cookie cut American household can’t hold off death. No matter what, it gets its day.

“ yes, I do! “ you raise your voice, fighting the urge to close the distance. Knowing that he’d mistake it as you being on the offensive. “ I wasn’t doing anything except walking! “

“ yeh, an’ that’s what concerns me. “

A pause.

Nothing but the noises from the residents of this small town can be heard, the silence so deafening it almost obliterates your confusion. The room is so quiet that you even doubt that the two of you are even occupying it, the house feeling more and more cold with the seconds that slug by, it feeling that there’s no life to breathe a new warmth into it. Never has it felt so bare to be in that in that very moment than with the two of you ready to cut deep.

This is what he's pissed about? Before you even realise, you snort from disbelief. It’s something so small, so insignificant you can’t even believe it. Their new found safety has affected the group in many ways, but this has to be one of the strangest as you openly stare at his tense form.

“ seriously? “ you ask, refusing to believe he’s pushing this so intensely for that very reason.

“ y’finding that funny? “

“ yeah, because you’re acting like you’re my damned father. “ pointing a finger in his direction, you pace for a few fleeting seconds.

A closeness between you both has long since been acknowledged, but you’ve never divulged to him the true extent of your emotions. Sometimes you think he’s aware of what you feel, though late at night when you’re alone you realise that it may be better if he doesn’t. You wish you have the confidence to even share it with him, although the thought that blares in your ears warns you otherwise. Your heart couldn’t take another heartbreak, opting for his friendship rather than a cold shoulder born out of awkwardness.

Sometimes you’re sure he’s staring at you with a longing glint in his eye when you’re not paying attention, however you often chalk it up to hope. Never are you one to follow the signs, not wanting to be wrong. Your imagination cannot be crushed if it doesn’t have confirmation.

Hope can be cruel as it can be kind.

“ someone’s gotta, I can’t remember all the times I’ve had t’drag your ass outta trouble! “ his crossbow thuds as it’s dropped without a care, his face reddens as it twists and contorts. You haven’t seen him show this much rage since the Greene’s farm.

The day you first met him is permanently burnt into your brain, being half starved and dehydrated you thought you were hallucinating him. Unable to walk, your limbs weighed a ton under the exhaustion you felt under the punishing Georgian sun but there he was. Surrounded by the rays as if he was your very own guardian angel, but that idea had been put straight to bed as soon as you saw the outbursts from him to the other members of the group.

With the months that passed, you had trouble saying that was the same man you knew today. Less prone to rage, clearer about doing anything in his power to aid his family, though you can’t help but wonder if the old Daryl wants to break through the progress he has made so far.

“ and I never asked for that, Daryl. Why are you acting as if you’re my keeper? “

“ fine! it ain’t my problem if y’wanna be a selfish bitch. “

Causing hurt to the people he loves comes easy to Daryl. To wound deep when he’s scared is all he has ever learnt, to show love and affection was never afforded to him as a child, not even when he silently begged for it. Now, he was physically and mentally scarred, even these days were they still plaguing him like a never relenting ghost. He doesn’t want to hurt you, he hates seeing pain in your eyes, but he can’t convey his worry without fury over the idea of losing you.

He can’t imagine having to live a life where you’re not cracking a joke at the worst possible moment, or your selflessness that will surely one day cause you more harm than good. His breathing increases at the thought, his fists clenching, willing him to stay in place and not barge through the door without a second thought.

“ se - selfish? Daryl, you’re making sense! “

“ y’don’t care about anyone but y’self. Doin’ shit like that by y’self is only gonna get y’killed. All y’think about is you, not anyone left behind. “

“ after everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you? “ the fire you had once now leaves nothing but dying embers, defeat coating your words as tears shimmer in your eyes

Daryl doesn’t know how to react at your proclamation, the inner battle to stay in the lounge now lost. His mind is unable to warp the idea of you even entertaining the thought of becoming more than friends, never did he dream that the shield he’d built around himself could injure him more than the outside elements could.

Before he even realised it, he’s leaning down to pick up his crossbow and heading straight for the door. Paying no mind to you taking his departure as rejection and not self preservation.

“ if you think I’m gonna come back, I’ll make you wait a long time! “ you call out before slamming the door.

Hands are brought to your stomach, as if to stem the bleeding from a wound made deep into your torso, though it can’t curb the internal trauma you feel from Daryl ripping himself from your presence. You knew it was a bad idea to tell him your feelings, yet you could hardly stop yourself in the war of words between the two of you. Nothing is a big enough wish than to stop the pain that ignites your entire self, threatening to consume you entirely. Only now do you understand the true extent of your love for him, previously thinking it was little more than a crush, though this feels more. Especially mourning what could have been.

You retreat to your room, not even leaving to share dinner with your family. Afraid not if Daryl would show, but rather your ability to hold your composure when you feel as if you’re glass who’s moments are counting down by the second to shatter into nothing more than sharp fragments that will only slice others to ensure they bleed, to ensure they feel as bad as you do.

“ come on, you’ve got to get some air. “

A series of knocks interrupt your sleep, followed by the voice of who you recognise as belonging to Carol. You ignore her, not wanting to face anyone just yet. The trauma on your heart is still too fresh. However it matters not to Carol, for she simply does not take your silence as an answer, but rather as an invitation as she opens your door.

“ just leave me alone, please. “

“ the others are worried about you, so am I. “ she speaks, concern written all over her face as she steps forward closer to your bed, her frown becoming more and more prevalent.

“ let them be, I just want to sleep. “

“ you don’t have to talk to anyone, come down after breakfast. Just get some fresh air. “ Carol gently requests with a half smile blooming onto her features. If anything is certain, she wants to see you and Daryl work through the fog that currently locks you both away.

Leaving the bed, you groan to yourself. You’re not sure how much time has passed since Carol departed, but it has been long enough for your family to have also left the house to either explore more or two engage in their jobs. It’s something you send a silent thanks to the sky for, all you desire is solitude, with the sun etching its warmth onto your face. Opening the door, you see people going about their business with little regard for you, though you’re sure some of them must have heard the commotion the previous day.

You pay little mind to them though, more concerned on piecing together the broken pieces of your heart than anything else.

Sleep never once visited Daryl, never did it carry him off into a peaceful slumber. Though he can’t help but feel as if he deserves it, as payment for having to be the cause of the damage to you, being the reason you sobbed harder than he’d ever heard you. He’d waited outside that door, pushing himself to make things right, but never did the courage arise. Leaving him lonely once again.

Fuck this he curses himself mentally, this is going to be the one time an opportunity for happiness does not pass him by. Not once more, that was the last time he’d be nothing more than a witness.

Astonishment transforms his hardened expression as he comes to a stop, realising you’re already sitting on the porch next door with a blissfully peaceful air surrounding you. You don’t realise he’s there just yet, your eyes closed as you take in the sounds and smell of Alexandria, a distraction to what you feel. Daryl briefly wonders how he should go about patching things between the two of you, the situation an alien one to him. Fingers reach towards the cigarette packet concealed in his trouser pocket, with the barest of shaking from nerves.

Bringing it to his lips, the smoke is what alerts you to his being closing the distance. You can’t prevent the draining of colour from your face, not prepared from yet another interaction with the Dixon man so early in the morning.

“ I - uh, wanna say sorry. ‘Bout yesterday. “ Daryl apologises, with a regretful tone colouring his words with the most vibrancy he can muster.

Your gaze slips to the floor, watching the grass move ever so slightly with the breeze that wanders through. To forgive is in your nature and you sorely want to extend that forgiveness to him, but to do so after that exchange is a difficult thing.

“ thank you, I suppose. “ you shrug, your hands tying together as you try to make up for a lack of words.

“ I ain’t expectin’ y’to forgive me or nothin’, I just want y’to know. “

You sigh to yourself, you know in your heart he means what he says, you hate that you’ve been this mad at him.. at each other this much, even for a few hours. People and bonds are a rare blessing in this world, and you know it’s better to keep them close than to allow them to burn in the fire of hatred and impulse, to leave them nothing more than ashes ⎯ remnants to revere of an age that has since past.

“ Daryl, I do forgive you. I’m just trying to figure out how we move past this. “ you reply with sorrow, your eyes closing, a crease intensifying between your brows. It hurts to even speak into existence.

“ those things you said yesterday ... did you mean them? “

Bewilderment forces your eyes open, your head snapping to meet his figure that still stands. Here you are preparing yourself to move past Daryl, no matter how hard that would be, and he’s asking you questions about what you said.

“ you’ll have to be specific, I said a lot. “

“ it needs sayin’? “

Daryl can’t help but feel put on the spot as your sight bores into him with a forceful amount of strength, scrutinising him with the need to find an answer he’s not yet sure of.

“ yes, it does. “

“ was y’serious about.. bein’ in love.. ? “ with me is the silent end to the sentence that lays peacefully on his tongue as he leaves it out, the invisible presence of it painfully clear to the both of you, knowing that while it wasn’t included, it was there regardless.

“ when it comes to things like this, I don’t lie. “ you rest your head on your chin, a small yet anxious smile fighting to break free onto your features.

Why do I have to be a nervous smiler?

Daryl doesn’t answer, instead he moves to sit beside you on the porch. Closer than ever before, it’s not something that goes unnoticed by either of you, and like that hope is once again reignited within your core. Even small steps like this are significant, physical affection with other people is still something that has not changed all that much with him.. Though, you’ve seen moments on rare occasions, witnessing it before he can even stop himself.

“ so, we boyfriend and girlfriend now? “ you joke, laughter allowing the grief to peel away from your heart, allowing it to flutter in the air at the thought of the potential between you.

“ shut up. “ mumbles Daryl, although there’s a small grin that is peaking through his expression as he allows it to be set free, even though the full picture is still hidden under the grime and the hair that has long since overgrown.

But, you find you wouldn’t change a thing about that. It being part of his charm. You can’t help but find yourself full to the brim of excitement of what can grow between you, with the possibilities endless.. no matter how hard things can and will get, you will have each other in a new way that you’ve never before and that? It’s a heavenly picture you want to cut and pocket away in the confines of your heart.

#daryl dixon imagine #daryl imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl x you #daryl angst #daryl fluff

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junnibook · 4 years

Text

Kirishima ☓ bully freader

Warnings: noncon/dubcon, bully college au

A/n: I hope you enjoy, I tried haha, LEAVE A LIKE AND COMMENT PLEASE EVEN IF ITS JUST A LETTER.

Read at your own risk.

The ask box is completely open until I say other wise

You made his life a living hell, well you thought you made it a living hell just by messing with him. Taking his things pushing him humiliating him. He didn’t complain, you thought you have compete control over him.

The sad part wasn’t even that he was being bullied in college no the sad part was that he liked it.

He could’ve been put an end to all of it but he didn’t and instead he pretends to be helpless, just to have you close to him, to have you touch him.

You never was the nice type which was annoying at first, but now he doesn’t mind in fact he loves it, it’s all part of his plan.

“Did you get it done red” he didn’t answer, hearing you click your tongue made his insides bubble.

He sat in the library one no one really uses, he did this with purpose. No one can stop you. His head facing down, he stopped typing on his laptop.

He felt your smaller hands tug at his locks making him look up at you.

Your pretty, too pretty to be mean to anyone. “ yeah” he pushed out, rubbing his head after you pushed it away.

You made yourself comfortable by sitting on the table. This point he thanked the gods above that he choose a college with uniform.

He could almost see up your skirt, so close just one small look, he just wanted the color he hoped for red.

His eyes moved up to your tits, how dare you leave some buttons undone than call him a pervert for giving him full view

He watched you read threw it.

Why didn’t you sit on him like you did the other people you missed with, using them as chairs. Why didn’t you do that with him?

“ um red , where the hell is the rest of it ? It’s only one third of it” you slammed the papers down.

He was pleased with how this was turning out. Like he planned.

He knew how important this was to you, the professor gave warning saying who didn’t have won’t get to make it up.

When was it due again? Tomorrow or something.

“ you fuck-”he stopped you by pulling out more sheets. “ I have the rest”

You reached out to snatch them but he was quicker than that. “ give them here!” You tried to reach out again.

“ for free no” you stepped back slightly at his tone of voice, it went from weak and cowardly to a more powerful tone. Nothing to much of course.

“ what the hell does that suppose to mean” you glared folding your arms still watching his sitting state.

“ let me sum it all up for you just a little”

“ I have something you want no you need and you have something I need”

Yea he needed you, he tried thinking of other people to get off none of them fell close to how he wanted to get off with you.

He’d be in his dorm head tilted back hand slowly jerking off the mess you blindly caused. He thought of you and how you tits moved close to his face when you went and pulled his hair.

“ and what you want money?” He almost laughed at that, you knew what he wanted and you didn’t want to acknowledgethat did you?

“ a kiss”

“...a kiss?”

“ yes in the mouth, you’ve done it before” you did a lot of things before.

“ fuck you I’ll get someone else to do it” he knew that was coming and prepared for it.

“ you really think they’ll get it down before twelve, check the time”

He was right it was late, you’d look like you was dating one of them if you show up to their dorm at this time.

“ fine I just won’t turn it in”

He knew you’d say that too

“ yeah I loved to hear the conversation, wasn’t this your last fail before they bring you home”

He did his digging, stalking you, listening in while your parents yelled at you threw the phone. This was your last straw.

“ your a creep you know that”

It was in kiss, a simple one that can keep you in school. “ fine make it quick” you moved over to him, swallowing your pride.

He was loving this, he could see the embarrassment on your face and he loved for it completely.

You in the other hand wasn’t.

You bent over meeting his face and pressed your lips on his- just as they came they left.

He didn’t even get to savor it. He worked hard on YOUR assignments.

“ that wasn’t a kiss” he didn’t want to argue about it either, so he pulled you on his lap , grabbing the back on your head pushing his lips on yours.

To him it was heaven, you smelled so nice up close and your lips are so soft, but why won’t you give him access he wants to explore more.

Your hands pushed on his chest moving him away. “ okay that was the kiss now give me the papers”

“ mm no not yet my demands haven’t been completely for filled” you glared

“ you got your stupid fucking kiss, give me the papers!” He liked that look too.

A new look, it actually made him grin.

“ your a fucking pervert” how could someone get hard from one kiss?

Easy for him, he had the kiss and let his mind run with it. “ you need that grade right”

You was really going to fuck the guy you messed with for a grade.

Why would he want to fuck you though? You pushed him down the stairs humiliating him countless of times , thrown everything he carried I toilets and yet he still sat here hard and wanting.

“ pathetic”

You know what, what could go wrong. You got in your knees. This would be a breeze, you knew since had no one that he wouldn’t be experienced and cum in two minutes or so, you’ll just jerk off his tiny.. small..what-

The size.?!

You started at it mouth falling open from the literal shock. You’ve never seen his size at least not in person.

He looked down at you, he liked your shock “ come on we don’t have all day.. your assignment is due-” you cut him off

“ shut the hell up I know!”

His legs twitched when you took him in, your mouth warming him up. He was in heaven this had to be a dream.

Even though he felt so good and was surprised he didn’t cum down your throat yet he knew you could do better.

“ I know you did this before, stop slacking and give me the full show” he grabbed a fist full of your hair shoving you down on him, your nose pressing against the small hairs he had.

Despite having multiple partners you’ve never deep throat before, so you gagged at the stretch at the new feeling. He loved it meanwhile your cussing yourself out for doing this.

Pathetic

“ fuck fuck fuck , you feel so good” he threw his head back while keeping yours steady, thrusting his hips up humming out moans as you let out wet gags.

Drool dripping past your chin and down your neck, your eyes pricked with tears when he shoved your head down on him harshly, he didn’t mean to just caught up in his own pleasure to know his strength.

His full body shivered as he finally released down your throat after what felt like hours pleas only ten minutes.

You yanked you head back, coughing “ your cum taste fuckin- what are doing put me down” he didn’t listen he picked your body up pushing down on the table.

Your chest on the cold wood. You looked back to see him- hard again?!

“ red stop you just wanted that , that was the deal” he let your words go in one ear and out the other was he lifted your skirt up.

“ red panties, like I wanted. You know you’ve always had a great ass. You use to to call me a perverted little shit for catching me staring but honestly how could you blame me”

He rubbed himself between your cheeks. “ look at how good” you closed your eyes- what did you get your self into.

He moved both hands to grip both your cheeks.?massaging his dick with them rubbing harder, his tip leaking some sticky juices.

“ red enoug-”

He never smacked anyone’s ass before.. so he tried that out, smacking yours he didn’t know he wound strength leaving a stinging red hand print on your cheek.

He thought you would moan out in pleasure like the girls in porn do but he was mistaken.

“ you feel so good, I didn’t even enter you yet. I’m go-” he painted your back with his white spread. “ your so fucking gross, now let me go”

Oh no he wasn’t going to let you go, not while having this much fun. This could be the last time he gets to fuck you... in a library that is

He moved your panties to the side, admiring the first pussy he got to see since his birth. He wanted to eat , maybe next time.

Your body stiffed feeling him at your opening. “ no red anything else but that !” You wasn’t a virgin or anything just never had anyone that big and you refuse to let him be the first.

“ hm than here” he moved his tip to your ass entrance- “ OKAY OKAY NOT THEIR”

He chuckled at your reaction “ here than yea” he moved back to you puss

He didn’t know how to push in. Sad if you wasn’t in the predicament you were in you’d make fun of him for it.

But he gushed your thoughts finally pushing all the way in. Making you his at the feeling of being stretched.

As you was in hell, tears staining your cheeks, he was in heaven, a new kind of feeling.

Your his first you know. He didn’t think that his hand wouldn’t come close to what he was feeling now.

He pulled back and in all to fast, not giving you the chance to adjust. Holding you waist tightly while, snapping his hips in you.

“ slow down .. slow down” you could tell it was his first time, he’s chasing his orgasm at top speed, a virgin thing to do.

“Red!”

He picked you up, pressing your back on his chest, his hands gripping your thighs lifting you up and down on his dick.

“ I’m getting tired of you calling me red, call me ejirou” if you called him that in the past he would’ve painted his boxers immediately, hear his name slip past you lips what more could he ask for.

“ no no no” you wasn’t his friend, you didn’t like him. You wasn’t going to call him that.

Your head leaned back on his shoulder. You like this position don’t you. You tried hiding your moans but how he thrusted there was no way you could.

“ call me ejirou” he groaned out, feeling his relief coming.

“ no!”

“ fine, I’ll just leave myself deep in you, I hope your on the pill”

You wasn’t-

“ no don’t ..please”

Please

Your making it hard not to breed you. Breeding huh- that was one of the many fantasies he had with you, maybe he should.

“ ejirou!”

Hearing his name come from you made him- snap even further. He pushed you back on top of the table thrusting in harder and faster, grabbing you locks and making you arch.

“F-fuck fuck !” He pushed in forgetting that he wasn’t suppose to cum in you. Oh well it’s done. The warmth from his seed makes you whimper as he pulled out it spilled from you.

The sight alone was enough to get him hard again.

“ I can’t wait until we do this again”

Again? No way your not even going to mess with him alone anymore.

“We aren’t doing this again”

You looked back at him seeing him reach up and grab his phone. Was it recording ?!

“ I wonder what your little friends would think if they seen this”

Blackmail?

#anime #im sorry it sucks #anime ask #x reader #ask #likecommentshare #naruto shippuden #haikyuu!!#mha #naruto #bnha eijiro kirishima #kirishima x reader #mha kirishima #kirishima

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salemroleplayhq · 3 years

Photo

❝The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.❞

MEET…

Jillian Swann

Age: 30

Birthday: August 20th, 1991

Gender/Pronouns: Cis female, She/Her

Hometown: Salem, MA

Length of time in Salem: All of her life, except for the 3 years in which she was away for college and seven months in a mental health facility

Occupation: Freelance Artist & Muralist / Bartender at Rockafellas

Faceclaim: Laura Harrier

THEIR STORY

tw: mentions of major depressive disorder, anxiety, postpartum depression, suicide attempts, fire

An only child, since infancy Jill most closely resembled her mother, though the resemblance didn’t stop there. Her mother was also Jill’s namesake — Jillian — but to avoid confusion the nickname ‘Jill’ or ‘Jilly’ were the names deployed most often to give her a better sense of individuality. She was raised with little austerity. Her mother was a high end jeweler and her father was a therapist. She had a double bed adorned with silky materials of the highest thread count, took long hot showers in the mornings and lavish baths in the evening. Pressure was put on maintaining an orderly appearance. Manners instilled, always. With strict guidelines to be followed within and outside the home — she was a child, thereby she must listen to those above her. Their daughter was to be seen and not heard, not to speak unless spoken to. Whether or not Jill’s quiet disposition is a result of her parents’ ingrained teachings, or if it was in her nature to begin with cannot be determined for certain. To avoid any unnecessary conflict, Jill was cautious never to do anything reckless that would put even a single strand of her hair out of place.

Her family may have been affluent, but even though technology installments were in abundance around the house — from cable TV to being given a personal iPhone at nine years old — she always showed an inclination toward more tangible forms of entertainment. More often than not her spare time would be occupied with long-winded outings to the library, teaching herself embroidery or knitting projects or skipping rope tricks. As an only child, her imagination became her closest companion. Inventiveness kept her boredom at bay, but it also made it impossible for her mind to ever be a peaceful and silent place. She took a liking to fiction and poetry books and art the most. She was thrilled by the way the right set of words could miraculously make sense of the big feelings she felt but didn’t dare speak about. She thrived off of what was obvious; the practical and evidential. Situations with a clear cut beginning and end that couldn’t be mistaken for something else. With art, she was able to embody everything that she had felt inside — what words couldn’t appropriately convey. ‘I don’t belong here. Nobody wants me. I don’t feel normal.’ Accordingly, nothing frustrated her more than having no idea where to begin when dealt with something that wasn’t so readily apparent or visible ( more often than not this equated to one category only: her feelings ). Winging things wasn’t her style — planning and perfect organization was. With poetry and art — with the attractive rhythmics of prose, and the curved painted brushes — she could suddenly adapt to any moment, turning anything that felt too overwhelming into something small and manageable ( destroyable, even — much of her first personally works ending up shredded or burned in the fireplace ). It was a comfort to find that even if an explanation didn’t exist, she could simply make one up herself by inking it down on a fresh piece of paper. This was a hobby she kept private, though she was passionately devoted to it. Each night filling a page or two, whether in a notebook or a sketchbook, until every few months she had a full book and had to start a new one.

Growing up Jill was very level-headed and had a natural talent for leadership. She was never boastful or power-hungry, but taking charge of chaotic situations came like second nature to her. She wasn’t shy of being in the spotlight, not because she ever wanted the attention but because she sought to benefit the bigger picture always. If there was a recognizable error she’d often be the first to analyze it without a bias to intervene with her perception, making her able to step in to adjust it until perfect form was achieved. She was considered mature for her age by most of her superiors — teachers and parents alike — never giving way to thoughtless impulses and seemingly unable to be offended. A teenager who possessed a gift concerning genuine empathy and kindness. Jill and her ego seemed to exist on opposite sides of the spectrum. Critique and praise rolled off her back one in the same. She was a quick learner, always eager to have new content to peruse. She loved questions, for there was always an answer. It was safe territory. As curious as she was in pursuits of knowledge, as a whole she was very reserved and well balanced and not at all spontaneous. She became a safe haven for many of her lost high school peers, but nobody had ever seen the deep inner turmoil she had wrestled with all of her life; that emptiness, that sadness, those thoughts that told her she wasn’t good enough. Despite being plagued by anxious voices, she tried to push on, at times self harming when it felt like it was too much.

When it mattered most, art saved her — especially after the fire. She was a creative through and through, but it was the self portraits of a woman losing her mind that allowed her to look at herself in a completely different light. Though she tried not to think of it much ( she couldn’t remember what exactly had happened even when she consciously tried ), Jill was unsure if she was relieved to have made it out of the fire. To her own life, she was apathetic. Yet, when she finally met Lachlan she had put up a good front — “thank you,” said with a warm smile that failed to reach her eyes; she had recognized him from their school, “for saving me.” As a result, she fell more into her creativity and further away from the her peers. Jill’s artistic talents were obvious to anyone on the outside looking in, expressed in her handiwork in her talent for choosing attractive fashions and creating hair styles at the girl’s sleepovers. Indeed, Jill had a great talent for styling clothing, sewing and braiding her friends’ hair as well as any professional hair stylist. But it was a duty rather than something she felt in her heart. The need to look pristine, whispering urgent nothings at the back of her head. Writing and painting was what she truly longed to do, but making a profession out of something anyone who could hold a pen or paintbrush could do seemed impossible.

Once Jill honed her ability, she began to submit her work into local competitions. Being able to be a freelance artist as a job seemed far fetched, but it was all she enjoyed spending her free time on — using real people as her subjects, sketching what she really saw, and uploading her work in the hopes that it would sell. The inspiration fueling each canvas was endless.

Taking two years to herself after graduating high school — allowing herself to build up various art equipment, a growing portfolio, and history of recurring clients that helped spread her name around — at 21, for the sake of improved credibility, it was with bated breath and hardened determination that she finally felt she was prepared enough to dare to apply to local universities offering a BFA degree in art. When Jill received an acceptance letter from FIT, it felt like an affirmation the direction she was headed wasn’t purposeless. Though usually careful about keeping her emotions withheld, she couldn’t help be feel thrilled at having seemed to have found her true calling.

Until three years into her studies. The stresses of college had overwhelmed her, and she found herself swallowing a bottle of pills in her sorrow. When she awoke, she had been back in Salem, her mother by her side — and Jill had turned her head, letting the silent tears flow down her cheeks out of shame. Moving back with her family had been hectic. Her deep depression and suicidal thoughts lingering but she had promised her parents that she would never hurt herself again. Instead, she spent her days in various forms of isolation, to locking herself in her childhood bedroom for days, to sitting on the balcony quietly nursing a cup of tea. It was the first time that she had purposely avoided writing or drawing.

As all things, with time was supposed to come healing. Over the years, Jill kept up a regular notebook habit despite how pointless it seemed — it was a freeing outlet that calmed her anxious thoughts. Within those pages she catalogued original writings as well as jotting down lyrics, sayings, quotes, and eavesdropped phrases she heard whilst out and about. Clearcut beginnings and ends were her favorite thing. Anytime the she was confused or disturbed by the people around her, she’d retreat to process it silently on a page. Unless she was at work around those her age, she was surrounded by adults. Neither were particularly easy to make sense of, so many a notebook went filled. Though she still managed to maintain her “Jill of all Trades” persona for her relatability and kindness, people had still spoken about her as the deeply troubled young woman as a result.

Her depression left her deeply afraid, and she became somewhat of a recluse most times because she couldn’t bear the whispers. Then she met Gabriel, an older man who had stopped in Salem for business, and it had changed everything. The casual fling began and ended without much fuss. It was a stress relief, nothing different than the glass of wine or smoke she ingested when particularly stressed. Jill preferred living alone, in all aspects. Romance was never appealing, neither was having to belong to someone, or adhere to any sense of domestic behaviors. Long term relationships were foreign territory for her simply because of her deep depression, and it was always a relief to find someone on a similar wavelength. A couple months after their fling drew to a close, Jill found it wasn't as easy to shrug off as past exchanges when she discovered she was pregnant. Something within her knew she wouldn’t abandon the life growing inside, even if it threw off every perfectly crafted plan she had.

Nine months later Jill was the mother of fraternal twins, Gabe always by her side. For a while it seemed like they could make it work out — a possible bond and a growing love for each other. Then the postpartum symptoms had hit, and just like that, their blossoming relationship was thrown right into the garbage after Jill had attempted to take her life once more in the midst of a breakdown. Having been sent to a mental facility some ways out of town immediately after, Jill has just come back to her hometown after seven months — desperate to heal.

PERSONALITY

+ empathetic, personable, creative

- stubborn, perfectionist, naive

Jillian is played by CLEM.

#jillian swann #f #all #oc rp #town rp #city rp #lsrpg

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years

Note

For a writing prompt, Indruck post apocalyptic au (preferably everyone is human?) Indrid is infected by some sort of alien parasite, and the only way they can save him is to cut it out of him without anesthesia? Feel free to be as graphic as you want, but if it’s too whumpy for you, no pressure to write it! Thanks as always!

Here you go! It’s mid-level graphic: if it were a movie, you wouldn’t be seeing guts everywhere, but you would see the wounds. Also, content warning for body horror, namely the kind where a fungus takes over your body, and referenced suicide (no suicide actually occurs, don’t worry)

He should have seen it coming.

The tell-tale dampness and smell in the air, like battery acid and rotten milk, the fact that he’d made it the whole trip without seeing any Mycilioptera (that was, according to Joseph, the scientific term for the for the cat-sized, skittering alien creatures looking for someone to sting).

The creature was on him with a droning, high whine, scratching his face, smearing stinging mucus across his eyes and mouth. He made a rookie error, following his instinct to rip off the the substance dulling his senses, rather than feel sweep his arms over his body, locate the creature, and hurl it as far away as he could.

When the stinger hit his stomach, he screamed. The noise was useless; this quadrant of the city was abandoned months ago. He collapsed to the ground, clutching his sides as the pain seeps through them. His eyes cleared enough that he forced his fingers to work, grip the handle of his hatchet, and cleave it with a crunch.

Now, clutching the steering wheel of the Winnebago (in this world you do not need a fast car; you need something with thick sides and room for supplies and friends), he knows there are only two ways this can go.

If he is lucky, the parasite will be slow acting enough and he will stay lucid enough to reach the ranch in time for someone to remove it.

If he is unlucky, he will run out of time, and the parasite will take control of his body, manipulate him zombie-like to an advantageous location, and burst from his chest, mouth, and eyes in milky-white stalks, sending spores into the air, which will either grow in to adults or be inhaled by any other humans in a two mile radius, subjecting them to a prolonged version of Indrid’s fate.

He leans on the gas pedal, hurtling down the empty backroad. They found an abandoned, un-pilfered gas station and filled all the vehicles, with some left over for scouting and supply runs. And, if it came to it, an escape.

From the passenger seat, his backpack meows. A familiar black and brown head pokes out, the ratty collar still reading “Winnie.” Winnie, the reason he ran into that abandoned parking garage during a salvage mission in the first place.

Because she’s Duck’s cat, the one he thought he’d never see again after she fled out the door when the city evacuated. And Indrid loves Duck Newton more than anything in the world.

They’d been friends before everything went to hell, inching towards a confession of deeper feeling and Indrid still remembers the way his heart felt when he spotted Duck at the evac staging shelter. He hadn't even opened his mouth when Duck was hugging him, holding him tight and saying he was so fucking glad he was okay.

When three, then five, then ten infected humans burst in the evac center, Duck had Indrid’s hand they were running before almost anyone else knew what was happening, bandanas over their mouths because Josephs last message before the cell towers were overloaded was to keep their noses and mouths covered.

They made it, against all odds, out into the countryside, Thacker’s Quonset hut and Mama’s farmhouse as safe as they’d hoped. The others trickled in one by one or two by two; sometimes bringing other survivors with them. Other survivors found them later, though the humans they saw became fewer and fewer with each day.

Mama took in everyone who wasn’t infected, while Joseph, Dani, Duck and Thacker operated and sewed up the infected who could be saved (if removed before it takes over the host, the parasite will die when exposed to air). Those who could not were given choices; most chose a swift death, especially when they learned that dying before the parasites emerged would kill the alien inside them.

And every night, Indrid and Duck shared a small bed, clinging to each other and telling jokes or stories until they could sleep. Two months in, Duck kissed him in the dark and Indrid kissed back, and when Duck asked if it was only the end of the world driving Indrid’s affection, Indrid shook his head

“I’ve wanted this for awhile. And I don’t know what’s coming. All I know is I want to be with you when it does.”

At the front of the Winnebago Indrid wipes his eyes; what a foolish thing to say. He doesn’t want Duck here for this, that’s for damn sure, and yet he drives towards him anyway,

He’s feverish, sweat running down his face and arms shaking, and while his veins are still blue, he can see the parasite rippling under his skin; it’s not wasting any time.

He’s not going to make it. And if he tries, he’ll put all his friends in danger

There’s no choice but to pull to the side of the road a few miles from the farm and step from the trailer, leaving the door ajar so Winnie can escape into the wild. He’s crying all the while, breath coming in shaky gasps; just because he’s doing the right thing doesn’t mean he isn’t miserable and terrified.

Indrid pulls out his pistol. He won’t be an incubator, he won’t spread this, he won’t help the things that took so much of his world from him.

He won’t ever see Duck again.

He sobs, once, then wretches as the fever grows and his vision goes spotty. He has to do this, even though every time he looks at the weapon his whole body shakes with fear.

“‘Drid!”

Duck’s voice, just audible over the thrum of an engine. Then tires screech into view, Aubrey piloting a jeep. Duck jumps to the ground before she’s even stopped.

“‘Drid, don’t you fuckin dare-”

“Nono, stay back!” He scrambles on his hands and heels, slamming into the side of the trailer, “I got stung, I already have a fever, I can feel it moving-”

Duck drops to his knees, lifting Indrid’s glasses.

“Your eyes are still brown. It ain’t too late.”

“But the veins near the wound are going white” Joseph stands behind Duck, “we won’t be able to get him back in time.”

“Th-that’s why I pulled over, I, I can’t get the rest of you infected, please, please just go-”

“You got the field kit?”

Aubrey tosses it to Duck.

“We can still save you, sugar. And I’m sure as hell gonna fuckin try.”

Duck and Joseph haul him to his feet and carry him inside, laying him on his back on the table. Aubrey follows him, sitting down on one bench and taking his hand.

“We got no anesthetic, so this is gonna hurt like a motherfucker, but you can do it. Okay?”

Indrid nods weakly.

“We’re gonna get you through this. You’re” fear flickers across Duck’s face, “you’re gonna be okay.”

Aubrey braces Indrid’s upper body, Joseph his lower, as Duck cleans around the puncture in his stomach and sterilizes his tools. Aubrey holds up a hand,

“We need something for your mouth, right?”

“Good call” Duck retrieves a wooden spoon from a drawer, setting it between Indrid’s teeth.

“Okay” Duck takes a deep breath, meets Indrids eyes, “okay. I’m gonna start cuttin. Ready?”

Indrid just manages a thumbs up.

It hurts, because a blade cutting into your skin will always hurt. And because it hurts Indrid screams.

“That’s good” Joseph is trying to sound reassuring, but even he looks worried, “scream if you need to, research suggests it helps with the pain.”

“It’s not too deep, thank fuckin christ.”

Indrid stares at the ceiling and yells when Duck widens the incision.

“Almost can see ‘im. Yeah, there, he’s startin to shrivel already from the air.”

Relief mingles with the pain in his tears. Aubrey pets his head, “you’re gonna be okay, see?”

“C’mere you, you fuckin monster, you fuckin think you can take him from me” Duck hisses, then says gruffly, “Joe, need you to hold it open, go wash your hands.”

Once Joe is in position, there’s a horrible, wet sound as Duck places his hand inside.

Searing, blinding pain as he pulls the parasite free, Indrid’s blood running down Duck’s arms. He bites the wooden handle and it cracks. The creature wrinkles and dies in Duck’s hands and he hurls it outside.

“Shit, shit you’re bleeding a lot. Okay, fuck, okay, that was the hard part, this is just stitches. Just stitches.”

Indrid whimpers, clinging to Aubrey’s hand and scraping his nails against the formica table. Duck hits too deep on a stitch and Indrid winces and cries as his boyfriend curses.

“Here, Duck, trade with me.” Joe holds out his hand and Duck passes him the needle. The shorter man settles by Indrid, taking his other hand. He’s still bloodstained, and Indrid can feel him shaking, but he brings Indrid’s knuckles to his mouth and kisses his knuckles again and again.

“I’m here, darlin, I’m here, I got you, it’s almost over.”

Indrid focuses on his voice, pretends they’re in bed together, counts the kisses on his hand and wrist while the pain fades to the background. Dimly, around kiss number thirty-five, he hears Joseph sigh in relief.

“Done.”

--------------------------------------------------

Indrid curls up under the covers, clothes sticking to him with sweat and his stomach throbbing with pain.

“Easy, sugar, easy” Duck sits up from a makeshift bed on the floor, “here, lemme get you some painkillers.” He comes back with a glass of water and two white pills. Indrid swallows them, lets Duck help him from his shirt and wipe the sweat away with a cloth.

“How did you know to come look for me?”

“Just had a feelin. I kept lookin out at the road, saw the ‘Bago weavin, goin a million miles an hour, and just knew somethin was wrong.”

“Thank you. For coming for me.”

“I always will. Thanks for not deckin me or kickin me while I was workin on you.”

“Duck you saved my life, kicking would be rather rude.”

It’s a weak goof, but Duck smiles and kisses him.

“Oh, uh, here, someone else wants to say thanks.”

“Mraoow?” Winnie stares at him from Duck’s arms.

“We scared her burstin into the trailer. Poked her head out right after you passed out. So you, uh, missed me bawlin like a baby seein her again.”

“Awwww” Indrid rests his head on Duck’s shoulder, ruffling Winnie’s fluff.

“I mean, that and it hit me how close I came to losin you. Poor Aubrey was tryin to comfort me in the Jeep while Joe drove you back here in the ’Bago.”

Indrid strokes his cheek. He understands; the thought of never seeing Duck again was the worst thing to happen to him all day, sting included.

“Come to bed?”

“You sure? Might not be too comfortable.”

“I want to be held by you. I want to remember we’re both still here.”

Duck joins him under the blanket, Winnie curling up on their feet.

“Yeah, yeah we are. And I love you so goddamn much.”

“I love you too. And I promise to cut a parasite out of you if the need arises.”

“God I fuckin hope not.”

“Me too. There were...fewer of them this time. I think they may be dwindling.”

“Fingers crossed. But even if we got a long ways to go towards rebuildin a world, I still got you, and you still got me. And that’s worth a whole hell of a lot.”

Indrid kisses him, inhaling the smell of clean skin and scratching his cheek against Duck’s stubble.

“You’re right, my love. It is.”

#indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #taz amnesty #whump #reader requests #post apocalyptic au #body horror

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nomazee · 4 years

Text

Enigma

tendou satori x reader; side ushijima & reon & reader friendship

word count: 2900+

content: slowburn (as slow as it can get in <3000 words), developing friendships, platonic relationships (this is pretty much,,,not romantic at all???), brief mentions of past bullying/exclusion, mild trust issues, fluff

cross-posted on my ao3

(WOW OKAY so first off,,,not to flex but i’m kind of really proud of this?? i hope it’s as good as i think it is right now--i’m kind of hyped up on caffeine and a lack of sleep so my perception of things might be a little off, to say the least.

i think tendou is an interesting character, and he has a personality that’s sort of,,,,malleable? in a sense? so this is my take on him! but i hope i still kept him accurate to how he’s portrayed in the show.

also !! i’m probably going to be opening up requests soon!! this is still a small blog but once i post my request rules you can feel free to stop by and leave a suggestion in my inbox :)

i really hope you guys enjoy this one!! happy reading!!)

☾.:°∗★.:☆:.★∗°:.☽

Making friends was never an easy process for you. You could count on one hand the amount of friendships you’d initiated yourself, and most of those occurred between the ages of five and twelve. After that, it was not smooth sailing and you found yourself sinking deeper into a pit of self-doubt and self-loathing.

Because, you figured that the only reason you couldn’t form connections deeper than surface-level was because you were… well, you. People never made the effort to approach you, so you didn’t put in the effort either. Though at first it was a tough pill to swallow, you’d convinced yourself that was just how life went as one of the unlucky ones.

Maybe you’d be a bit more content if the lucky ones would retain their distance from you.

In a way, they did. The kids with big friend groups--the typical loud, chatty ones that pushed tables together in the cafeteria to fit their whole squad--didn’t really interact with the likes of you. Not that you minded. You only started to mind when they did start to interact with you in a less-than-pleasant manner.

It started with lingering glances that you felt burn into the back of your neck during lunch. That’s what initially drove you out of the main cafeteria and into the bathroom, where you’d neglect eating in exchange for a quiet, botherless place. Then it led to too-tight smiles being sent your way in the hallways, followed by silent laughter shared among their groups. By then you’d caught on, and tried to distance yourself from them. But things never went as planned for unlucky ones like you.

They’d talk to you in class, eyes narrowed, brows raised, and smiles pulled taut against their conventional features as they chatted about their weekend with you as if you were all old friends.

It hurt more than being alone had. After a while, you learned to be alone and not lonely. You liked it, even. Knowing that these people were feigning friendship for their own sick entertainment only served to hold you back in the grand scheme of school-life.

You remembered all the jeering comments from junior high even when entering your first year of high school. You remembered the comments on your hair (“Yeah! That’s such a cute style! You should wear it more often”) that only led to you holding back tears in the girls’ bathroom during lunch and plucking out bobby pins from within your hair, reverting back to whatever style you typically wore. You remembered comments on your photos that you’d even dared to post online (“I liked your outfit that you wore on your trip last weekend. So cute”) that nearly made you delete your account after heavy consideration.

You remembered a lot of things. Maybe too many for your own good. It’s what led to you lacking trust in everyone around you and analyzing things far too deeply to be healthy.

When you entered high school, you expected things to be the same. Though the same group of people weren’t following you to your choice of school (Shiratoriawa, which you studied frantically for in what you were sure was a subconscious effort to distance yourself from whatever schools they would be attending), you figured that people didn’t change. People didn’t mature. It was still school, after all. No age or grade or whatever would change human nature.

Maybe that’s why Tendou Satori had been such an enigma to you in your first year.

You remembered entering homeroom--no daring makeup, no accessories to your uniform, and hair worn as always--and avoiding the gazes of all your classmates. You plopped yourself into whatever spare seats were in the back and waited for the day to start, quiet and mundane and tiring as always.

What you hadn’t been expecting was someone to talk to you--already, on your first day. As if you were such a visible target for those around you that they could immediately sniff out your inferiority among them.

Bright red hair that seemed to defy gravity was the first feature you noticed. His eyes were a similar color, though certainly darker, and his expression was far too similar to those you’d seen in the past for comfort.

“Hiya! I’m Tendou. What’s your name?”

The greeting went in one ear and out the other, though the general gist of it had stuck inside your head well enough to be able to process it. You averted your eyes from his. The best way to deal with someone like him was to respond, and not hope for, ask for, or do anymore than that.

You gave him your name. His smile only widened.

“Nice to meet you. I hope we can be good friends.”

You stayed silent. There wasn’t much point in saying anything. Your nails bit into the skin around your thumbs until it was red and aching.

Weeks passed and Tendou has resigned himself to a strange sort of routine with you. He’d say good morning, ask you about the homework, and make small comments during lecture which you assumed were attempts to get something out of you. Before lunch, he’d ask you if you wanted to sit with him. You’d decline, spend your break in the bathroom, come back to class, and the events from the morning would only repeat themselves with the addition of a polite farewell at dismissal as you two parted to different dormitories.

It was uncomfortable, but you put up with it because--well, what else were you supposed to do?

Tendou was a bit peculiar to you, though. He put up facades of false friendliness just like the old kids from junior high used to do. But whenever you’d catch him in the hallways, he never seemed to walk in groups like they used to. You couldn’t speak for how it was during lunch, considering that you were never really there--but when you occasionally spotted his bright red head of hair bounding through the halls, he was always alone.

You shrugged it off. To be fair, you didn’t see him often outside of class, so the conclusions you’d drawn were bound to be at least a little off.

A couple of months went by. The routine didn’t change, and neither did you and Tendou. You were both the same individuals, and just as always, you weren’t planning on twisting any of fate’s strings.

Tendou seemed to be different, though. He seemed to grow more and more curious of you as time passed. His questions became less vague and more frequent. He started voluntarily walking with you in the hallways whenever lunchtime rolled around. Thankfully, he never questioned it when you parted ways with him and walked in a direction that certainly didn’t lead to a cafeteria.

Until his curiosity peaked, early in the morning before homeroom started.

He greeted you, as always, and let you simmer in comfortable silence for a minute before he decided to prod at you.

“Hey, [Name]. I never see you in the lunchroom. What’s that about?”

You paused. No one ever really asked you about that before. You blinked once, then twice, and cleared your throat.

“I don’t like going there.” You didn’t know where your sudden streak of honesty came from. Even Tendou seemed a bit shocked at your suddenly-informative response, and seemed to make the most of this unusual occurrence.

“So, where do you go instead? Library?”

“No.”

“Then…?”

“Bathroom.”

“...oh…? Why don’t you sit with me at lunch today?”

Oh. The pattern came back. “No, thank you.”

“C’mon! Just this once. I promise. And then you can come back if you want, but you don’t have to.” You retracted your previous statement. Usually Tendou would let you do your own thing after asking once, but this was different. Again.

You took the time to consider his suggestion--again, something that was unfamiliar to you. Maybe just once. Just to analyze more of who he was and who his friends were--if he had any. You’d keep your expectations low, you promised yourself. (But a voice at the back of your head giggled in childish excitement at the prospect of maybe having an actual acquaintance.)

You agreed, and Tendou made an exclamation of victory that you couldn’t help but find a little endearing.

When lunchtime rolled around, Tendou bounded to you and grabbed your wrist, pulling you along to the cafeteria (which you’d never seen before, so you couldn’t help but stare in mild awe at the grandeur of it). He’d asked you if you were buying lunch--you said no, as you never really had an appetite this time of day and he gave a playful frown, flicking you on the forehead and reminding you that you still had to eat and stay healthy.

Since you hadn’t gone on line, he didn’t, either. You voiced your guilt and he shrugged, dragging you a long to a separate stand away from the main line and purchasing a few snacks for you to share.

“I’ll pay you back tomorrow,” you told him. “You really don't have to get me anything, though.”

“Nonsense!” Tendou exclaimed. “What kind of friend would I be if I didn't make sure you were well-fed?”

Though the nature of his words were playful, you found a hint of something in his eyes and tone. Something that, despite your years of analyzing people’s body language and tone and words, you simply could not deduce that easily and put a label on.

You paused. It was so foreign to you, but Tendou seemed almost… genuine.

His smile became more soft rather than teasing, and he took the initiative to take hold of your wrist again and lead you to his table. Whereas you initially expected a large group of loud, coquettish boys you were met with a near-empty circular table occupied by two other boys.

“Miracle Boy! Reon! This is the girl I told you about!” Your steps faltered for a minute--he’d told them about you? Maybe he was less genuine than you thought.

‘Miracle Boy’ seemed like an amusing nickname, though, different from the ones you’d heard before. You couldn’t tell which boy had which name, though, leaving you in the dark as you and Tendou took a seat next to each other.

One boy had dark brown hair while the other had a strange olive color. The former gave you a smile, like the one you’d seen Tendou give you just moments before.

“I’m Reon. This is Ushijima.” He introduced him and his friend, and you found a wobbly, unfamiliar smile playing on your lips. “You’re [Name]? Tendou has told us abit about you.”

You didn’t know how to take that, and your hesitation must’ve shown in your expression as Reon gave you a gentle chuckle and a dismissive wave of his hand.

“All good things. Nothing to worry about.”

With introductions and mild reassurance out of the way, casual conversation proceeded amongst the four of you--well, mainly among the three of them. You didn’t really find yourself inputting anything into the conversation too often, preferring to listen and nibble on the food Tendou had offered you, nodding along to whatever discussion they had.

You realized that the way Tendou interacted with Reon and Ushijima, who you assumed were his close friends, was very similar to the way he interacted with you. It made you separate him from your initial interpretations of his character and hold him in a much better light, though still with a hesitation you simply couldn’t get rid of that easily. Reon was calm and very friendly, asking for your input at certain points in the conversation in what you saw as a genuine attempt to involve you in their group. He was observant, you thought, noticing his eyes glancing your way occasionally and taking in your body language before asking you certain questions and shooting kind smiles your way. Ushijima was quiet and seemed indifferent to your presence--which you appreciated. You’d rather have him indifferent than hateful or jeering, and you didn’t take it personally. He just seemed to have that sort of personality.

By the end of lunch, you found yourself smiling and enjoying yourself. They didn’t seem like the same type of people you knew from junior high. It was a new experience, though not an unwelcome one, and you asked Tendou once you returned to class if you could join him again tomorrow.

“Always, [Name]!” He shot you one of his blinding, playful grins and you couldn’t hold back the upwards drag of your lips.

That day you found yourself reciprocating his farewell at dismissal, giving him a wave, a smile, and a nod before making your way back to the girl’s dorms.

This was good, you thought. Very good.

Another month passed by, and you developed a routine different than the previous. You’d say good morning, and ask how volleyball practice had been the day before (which you learned he attended early on in your newly-formed friendship). You and him would chat during lulls in class, passing notes occasionally if you felt the need to talk while the teacher was still droning on. When lunch came, he’d take gentle hold of your wrist and lead you to his table--or, on certain occasions, to his volleyball practice, where he made sure you were comfortable despite the intimidating-looking coach. At the end of the day, you’d say goodbye, with a promise to talk to him the next morning or after the weekend was over.

It took you a while to get used to. But you certainly weren’t mad at it, and Tendou’s presence made it easier for you to adjust than you once thought it would be. You’d stuck to interacting with him only during school--which, in your defense, was what you thought most people did. The concept of meeting up with classmates off school grounds, actually leaving your dorms during the weekends rather than staying holed up in your room as your roommate went out and had her fun--it was even more alien than any other newly-adapted-to-concept had been for you.

When he suggested exchanging phone numbers, you blinked owlishly at him before processing the fact that maybe that was something you should’ve done a long time ago and obliging to the task. When he asked you to go to the mall with him, Reon, and Ushijima, you repeated the dumbfounded gesture once again, before giving a halfhearted smile and nodding along.

You were nervous, there was no doubt. But you sucked it up, put on a modest, but (somewhat) stylish outfit, and walked to the train station with your three friends. (It was almost amusing for you to see that number placed next to that word and used in a context referring to you--but you giggled in your room thinking about it and couldn’t find the strength to doubt yourself.)

Tendou greeted you outside the girls’ dorms, and you felt nervous as he paused on his typical greeting to look you up and down. In the middle of wishing you’d grabbed an oversized sweater rather than the cropped jean jacket you chose, Tendou gave a bright, comforting smile, and laced his fingers with yours.

“You’re pretty, [Name].”

You couldn’t help but take apart that sentence as the two of you walked to the train station, Tendou’s endearing rambling becoming a consistent buzz at the back of your head. He stated it like it was fact. He was so sure in everything he said, and this time it was no different. There was no stopping the creeping grin appearing on your face, and Tendou seemed to take notice as his hand squeezed the slightest bit tighter around yours.

To put it simply, the trip to the mall was fun. Reon gave you a gentle yet knowing look as you and Tendou approach with hands still interlocked, and you were sure you saw Ushijima crack a smile or two during the duration of your trip. Tendou didn’t leave your side--which you felt the slightest bit guilty about, but he managed to brush that internal guilt away wordlessly with simple smiles and his sheer presence.

Though the four of you barely purchased anything other than food, Tendou made the effort to drag you into a children’s accessory shop while Reon and Ushijima went to order food for all of you. At your confused expression, he leaned down to your height, narrowed his eyes, and analyzed your face before bursting out into giddy giggles.

“I think you should style your hair more often,” he’d told you. “I’ve been thinking about it, and I think these clips would look nice.”

You left the store with a large, full bag in hand, filled with colorful, bright accessories that Tendou bought and made you promise to wear at least for the next week. It was a childish bargain, sure, but one you knew had deeper meaning than what was just spoken. There was something more in his eyes that you couldn’t hep but smile fondly at as you both left the store and faced Reon’s and Ushijima’s faintly amused expressions.

Tendou had started off as an enigma to you. He was someone strange--someone you assumed to be the same type you seemed to constantly find yourself tied up in, only to flip that judgement on its head and become the exact opposite.

The thing about enigmas is that they’re not good or bad--they’re just weird. They’re different, they’re confusing, they’re something new. It was the perfect way to describe Tendou, you thought. He took some getting used to. But he certainly wasn’t bad.

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jarienn972 · 4 years

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La Sirena - Chapter Seven

Captain Swan Supernatural Summer

After not getting much writing done over the hectic (and rather awkward this year) holidays, the muse finally returned long enough for me to finish this latest chapter of my @cssns story. (It also didn’t help that my old laptop finally gave out on me so I had a 2 week delay while waiting to get a new one and get all of my files transferred.) This chapter sets up the coming climax as there are only two more chapters planned and as you’ll see by the end of this chapter, it’s not going to be fair sailing for their blossoming relationship. We left off in chapter six with a stunned Killian learning more about Emma's past and the history surrounding the only known human who'd ever been deemed worthy to avoid the siren song. There's still a lot of uncertainty for this pair as confrontation with Regina looms - and things are going to get very stormy.

Thanks again to @kmomof4 for being an amazing beta and cheerleader and to @courtorderedcake for her stunning artwork!

Catch up from the beginning on AO3 or FF.net or here on Tumblr: One Two Three Four Five Six

Pause to Reflect

How does one act upon learning that they might be descended from a deity? Certainly there was nothing about his life so far that would have suggested such a divine lineage could be possible. Liam had practically raised him after their mother's passing when Killian was barely walking. Their father had become an increasingly abusive drunkard, rarely gracing his sons with his presence or assistance. Shortly after Killian's 13th birthday, Liam departed home to begin his new life by enlisting in the Royal Navy. By this time, their father had remarried and his new family became more important than his eldest sons.

Left to fend for himself often, Killian couldn't wait until he could enlist as well - going so far as to lie about his age to join at the tender age of 16 instead of the legal 18. It had helped that his brother, then Lieutenant Liam Jones, was the rising star of His Majesty's Royal Navy. The younger Jones was welcomed with open arms and while life on board a Navy ship in the shadow of his esteemed sibling wasn't particularly easy, it was far preferable to life back home. Killian flourished in his new life at sea and began rising through the Royal Navy ranks himself, but had his success in the maritime realm been a small, random clue from the universe that he was a direct descendant of the god of the seas?

What pure, unadulterated rubbish, Killian thought as he absentmindedly raked his fingers through his dark hair. It couldn't even be remotely possible that he was related to a god.

But then how was any of this real?

Days ago, he'd set out to explore an uncharted, cursed island on His Majesty's orders only to end up being taken captive and losing too many of his men in the skirmish. The pirates who'd abducted him had then sailed away, making the fatal error of venturing into waters guarded by mythical sirens. They were sung to their demise, leaving their treasure-laden ship to run aground and sink into the depths - yet their prisoner survived.

Miraculously, Killian Jones was still here amongst the living. He'd survived the battle, survived captivity and survived the supposedly tantalizing call of the sirens only to find his life in jeopardy once again from those same vindictive sirens?

Bloody hell, Jones… What has your life become?

"...We may not have much time to prepare…," Emma's voice brought him back from his mental wanderings. "Killian? Are you even listening to me? This is quite serious…"

"I'm sorry, Love," he replied sheepishly as he scratched at the week's growth of ruddy, wiry whiskers along his jawline. "I guess I allowed my mind to drift off at the absurdity of all this nonsense. All that I have learned today hasn't exactly been the easiest pill to swallow, you know…?"

"What about this debacle do you need to swallow?" she questioned, not understanding his chosen euphemism.

"Saying that something is difficult to swallow means that it's just a smidge hard to believe. Oy, this has been quite the long week…" He cringed the very moment he uttered those words, chastising himself for using another expression she wasn't likely going to understand. "Nevermind…," he sighed. "Let's just focus on what we need to do at this moment."

"So then you admit that you were not listening?" she scolded him as she placed a woven reed basket filled with a variety of fruit onto the sandy ground by his feet while tossing a ripe fig towards him. Well, maybe she'd thrown it at him, he surmised as he caught the fig mere inches before it would have struck his still-healing forehead. He frowned his feigned displeasure but she ignored him, continuing her instruction. "I know Regina. We aren't going to have much preparation time and you will need your strength, so eat. I'll raise a protective spell around the cavern but it may be of little use against the full council - or against the powers of a god."

"I thought you didn't want to use your magic?" he queried, biting into the sweet fig as she'd ordered. Oh, what he wouldn't have given for a huge slab of savory, tender mutton right now…

"I have no choice. If I can provide you with even some brief protection, then I must. I brought this retribution upon myself the moment I rescued you…"

"Why did you?" he interrupted. "Why did you choose to rescue me? If you were aware of the huge risk you would be taking with that act, why didn't you let me drown?"

Her emerald green eyes cast solemnly downward as she stood in contemplative silence for a moment. "My instincts told me I should," she replied after a long pause. "You were injured and weak and my intuition insisted that I needed to save you. I do not regret my decision and perhaps this is why…" She lifted her gaze to meet his as an almost wistful smile stretched across her lips. "Perhaps you were meant to save me."

"Save you?" This time, he was the one who failed to grasp the intention of the statement, but his query would go unanswered as the cavern was plunged into ominous darkness. The midday sun that had mere seconds ago been reflecting off of the surface of the spring had, in an instant, been replaced by the blackness of midnight. "That can't be good…" Killian muttered as his hand instinctively inched toward the grip of his newly acquired cutlass.

Emma's expression hardened as she swallowed back the awful lump forming in her throat while spinning around to cast her eyes skyward at their narrow view of the heavens through the opening in the ancient lava tube ceiling.

"There is nothing good to come from these gathering clouds," Emma stated as she angrily set her jaw, a scowl now deeply carved where the gentle smile had previously graced her visage. "Stay here - and please, do not disobey my instruction this time. My protective spell will stall their actions but I do not know for how long. Allow me to try reasoning with them first?"

"And then what?" he wondered, tightening his fingers around the bronze cutlass, however useless it may be against a god.

"I wish I knew," she sighed as she unconsciously allowed her fingertips to brush across his forearm, a gesture that left his skin tingling and his heart aching as she sprinted away to confront the ghosts of her past.

***********

Emma couldn't remember ever seeing the waters of her typically serene bay so angry. She heard no birds singing from the swaying palms nor did she sense the presence of any of the local sea creatures. Her marine friends had wisely left the cove to escape the wrath of the gods, but Emma had no such choice. Shedding the linen tunic that would only weigh her down and entangle her fins, she darted to the end of the jetty and dove through the choppy waves. Her human legs morphed into her lithe, muscular tail the instant she submerged and with a powerful flick of her tailfin, she plunged into the depths in search of her sister.

Mocking chatter echoed through the seas and filled her ears but Emma chose to ignore it. Insufferable as she might be, Regina was really the least of her concerns if Triton became involved. She could only hope to plead her case to the council and perhaps they wouldn't be so quick to laugh once she proved Killian was a worthy human, deaf to the seducing siren call. They would have to show him mercy and perhaps then she could appeal to Poseidon's mercies as well to grant the wayward sailor a path home.

Sediment stirred from the ocean floor obscured her sight but she didn't need her vision to sense Regina and the council's presence. It surrounded her from all sides, a heavy weight trying to force her down because while she might still be physically one of their kind, Emma had long ago been ostracized. The oppressive atmosphere she felt here beneath the sea she'd long called home only served as confirmation that she was no longer regarded as an equal.

"Show yourself, sister!" Emma shouted, masking her fear with overt bravado. She'd be damned if she would bow to the council's pressure. "Let us settle this matter right here and now!"

The taunting words and laughter drew closer until Emma sensed the feather-light flick of something against her fin. A slithering tentacle skimmed and then encircled her forearm before Emma wriggled free and glared into Regina's grinning facade. She would have loved to have smacked her sister right out of the ocean with a whip of her tail, but Emma didn't dare waste the energy.

Regina, in her favored squid-like form, whirled around her estranged sibling a few times, creating a mini vortex around Emma's body before swirling to a halt roughly an arm's length in front of the beleaguered former siren. With her human arms, Regina daintily slicked back a few stray strands of ebony curls while adjusting her elaborate coral-studded headdress, gestures clearly intended to intimidate and remind Emma who was in charge here. Emma folded her arms across her breast in defiance, not about to be put off by Regina's posturing but still hoping she could conceal her growing anxiety in front of the council.

The remainder of the council began to appear from out of the blue depths, initially as shapeless blobs that she gradually began to recognize. The sirens took a diverse variety of marine forms, each choosing their preference based on individual strengths and morphing ability. There seemed to be a few new faces on the council, at least some she didn't remember after years of trying to put that chapter of her life behind her. The only thing Emma was certain of was that all seemed to be wrapped up in the same little bubble of disdain. Regina's influence may have been stronger than Emma anticipated.

"Erimetha…," Regina addressed her at last. "You have been accused by this council of sirens of violating our solemn code and aiding a human. Well, not just aiding - harboring. We believe you have allowed that same human to live with you. Did you suddenly feel the need for a pet after all of your years in banishment?" Her insult elicited a chorus of chuckles amongst the council members and while Emma's instinct would have been to snap at her snide remark, she bit her tongue and allowed it to slide - for now.

"As I have stated many times before, sister, I was never banished. You can believe that fallacy all you want, but I made the choice to leave entirely of my own volition," Emma stated.

"Semantics," Regina dismissed the argument with a shrug. "Doesn't change the severity of these violations that you stand accused of."

"I have committed no transgression," Emma insisted, "not that it matters to any of you! Every one of you blindly sings your song to entice those unsuspecting humans so you can appease the gods, but why? You're told that all humans are evil and unworthy to traverse our realm, but have you ever spoken to a human? Ever gotten to know one?"

"We were created merely to pass the gods' judgement upon those inferior beings." The statement came from a council member with flaming red hair who Emma recalled was named Zelena. She also recalled that Zelena was one of Regina's closest allies as the redhead continued speaking. "They all submit to our song and then drown themselves. If this act pleases the gods, who are we to disagree?"

"Even the great Poseidon himself said that those sailors who were deemed worthy would be allowed to pass through our realm unimpeded. Why would he make such a statement if he believed that no human would ever be worthy?" Emma countered, but her words were still falling on deaf ears.

"Please…," Regina chuffed. "No human has been determined to be worthy in nearly a millennium. All have surrendered themselves to our siren song and all have perished."

"Not all!" Emma snapped. "One survived your song. One was immune to your seduction. Perhaps the gods had already determined his worth?"

"So - you admit that you have been harboring a human here with you?" Regina demanded, eagerly waiting for Emma to incriminate herself as her tentacles coiled with anticipation.

"It is of no matter to you," Emma responded. "He still survived. I did not make him immune."

Regina stared back at Emma in disbelief of her sister's bluntness. "That's not possible. No human can be immune to our enticing call…"

"Killian never heard your song, nor mine," Emma blurted out, immediately regretting her utterance.

"Killian, is it?" Regina teased, a stomach churning smirk curling up the corners of her ruby red lips. "You gave your pet a name? Aww… how adorable… How about we go find out just how immune your pet really is?"

With a swish of her tentacles, Regina launched her body upward through the waves with Emma following close behind. They broke through and surfaced almost simultaneously but before Emma could speak, Regina let out a hearty cackle.

"A protection spell? Seriously, Emma, you really need to do better than that," Regina taunted, using Emma's preferred moniker as a derogatory slur. With the faintest wave of her perfectly manicured right hand, Regina's magic cancelled out Emma's protective barrier and a bewildered Killian Jones materialized upon the sandy shoreline in full view of the council. "So, this is your little pet human?" Regina regarded his bedraggled appearance from afar, noting his ill-fitting clothing, tousled hair and scraggly beard. "We're to believe that this pitiful looking thing is supposedly worthy of our realm?"

"Stop referring to him as a pet! He's an intelligent being, just as we are, and he has a name - Killian Jones!" Emma cried out in his defense, uncertain if he could hear their conversation from this distance.

"He's still an inferior creature," Regina scoffed. "Why would I ever believe that this - this scrawny human - could be immune to the call of the sirens?"

"Have the council sing. Sing yourself if you must," Emma offered. "You will all see that it will have no effect upon him. He does not hear the melody - not a single note!"

"Oh, I have plans to test your human," Regina sneered, her eyes narrowing and darkening malevolently. "Lord Triton!" she called out, much to Emma's horror. "Deliver me that kraken!"

#cssns #cssns 2020 #captain swan supernatural summer #cs ff #cs au ff #siren emma #la sirena #things are about to escalate quickly #and I'm going to try hard to get this finished before signups for 2021 close!

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wlwdarlingcharming · 4 years

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Note to self, make a copy so if woe decides to yeet your anon, you got it saved again. Just please don’t leave me for days ;-; it’s not word for word but I hope it’s sufficient, I’m taking some rewriting liberties, putting warning tags here just in case and to make it easier!: Mention of ED, mention of drugs, needles and overdose.

Dexterous Charming, unnoteworthy middle child of the Blueblood Charming family of Ever After, never seemed to get into much trouble. With his parents seemingly more out of the picture, having children out of necessity and social duty more than being family people, and even when they were around they caused more issue than worth. Daring and his appearance was their mother’s priority, and Darling’s feminine social appearance and note of her in Wonderland (only a rumor) was their father’s priority since it was clear she didn’t listen to her mother. Even with their parents toxic ways, he was still ignored, and often mistaken as a cousin of sorts. So what did it matter what he do? His parents and siblings didn’t care, so when he heard about a young Sparrow’s trouble affording tickets at a concert, he offered to pay if that meant he could catch a ride, which fitted in Sparrow’s narrative since he was too loud to pick off of somebody just yet (he could but, he’s 13, that bitch loud) and glad that SOMEBODY agreed with his music taste. Sparrow and the 3 other boys made their way in, where they got a bunch of stuff, thanks to Dexter ofc. Surely enough, somebody caught eye of the young Blueblood, and, thanks to their detest of our dear Dashing, decided to cause the worst trouble, and started chatting with the young and impressionable prince, and managed to talk him into pills of “candy” (insert pun here) with the promise of feeling alive and happy, which I mean, sounds pretty good ngl. So he agreed, and when the kids gathered back to Robin Hood and was dropped off, Dexter decided to say fuck it, what do I got to lose. That’s what started it, making his way through the pill bottle in under a month period. Escaping in the night with and without The Robbers, (sparrow and gang), finding ways and social talk on finding exactly what he wanted. New pills, new pills, pills. Soon enough, that was not enough. No buzz, no good mood. He was scared of trying anything new but, what else did he have? He didn’t want to be empty again. That was a fate worse than hell. Different pills? Not enough, of course not. What’s next? Powder, now this worked. He didn’t even bat a eye at the needles when they finally came like he thought he would. Wow he really was far, wasn’t he? Wake up with pills, and lunch would be hiding in the bathroom, powder and needles in pockets. How nobody caught before, he didn’t know, but it worked for him. Sparrow came sometimes, not a lot, he didnt really seem to get into it, but he had fulfillment elsewhere. Lucky bastard. When Briar eventually invited Dexter to a party when he told her he had ways of getting what she couldn’t get, she took it, like how Sparrow did with his money. He decided fuck it, these people don’t know who I am, it’s free stuff anyway. So he went, and brought all his favorites, and a new try out, Fairy Dust. Pretty and pink, how cute. Lines were sorted, and soon enough, they were gone. Snorted. Oh my Grimm what a high, so ecstatic, he felt like he could run track, this. This was so worth the price. He doesn’t remember much of that night. He disappeared for the weekend following that Friday, he thinks with Sparrow? No no, eh fuck it who cares. He felt sick, and warm, and nauseous and light but didn’t know why. Low fuel? Probably yeah, next period, disappear for pick me up, definitely yes. Sat next to Hunter, Daring and Darling a like, 2 rows behind, waiting for him to show up, which he showed up a bit late for, but he couldn’t tell with as bad as he felt. Really really sick, but in a light feeling kind of way, and as soon as he sat down he just, sat, knees to his chest, resting his head on his knees. Maybe he’d feel better soon, he’s a tough boy right? He closed his eyes to rest, such a weird sick feeling. When the project began, Hunter waited for Dexter to respond on his own, not wanting to bother him. But a few minutes passed and he couldn’t fight the feeling something was wrong, and tapped his shoulder. No response. Shook his shoulder lightly, no response. HOLD ON ILL SEND PART 2 I PROMISE IT WONTBELONG

EUPHORIA ANON THIS IS SO GOOD

sparrow knows he only keeps dexter around because he’s really easy to get money out of. “you don’t wanna break your best friend’s heart, do you? it’s only a couple hundred. you’ve had more money spent on your clothes.”

dexter knows that he’s being used by sparrow, but the high just feels so good and he doesn’t even care at this point. i mean, his own parents and siblings don’t care about him, why should he care what sparrow thinks?

dexter knows that daring is dealing with his own problems, and darling is god knows where doing whatever, so he starts to distance himself from them. daring doesn’t come to breakfast anymore like they used to, darling isn’t even home, so what’s the point in even coming home?

daring, even though he’s not as attentive to his siblings as he used to be, starts to notice that every time he sees dexter he’s very glassy eyed and looks practically dead. he finally manages to track down darling, and she doesn’t know anything.

darling doesn’t talk to dexter as much as she used to, and she feels really bad, but she can’t bring herself to ask him about anything.

a few days go by, and daring gets a text from briar asking if he’s going to her next rager. he says yes, and darling is back in town so she goes with him.

daring and darling go to the party, and see dexter snorting something. they ask him what it is but he’s too high to hear them. they start to get concerned.

next day in class, daring and darling are waiting for dexter and he shows up 10 minutes late. he looks like shit but dare and dar just think it’s him being hungover.

dexter feels like shit and starts to rest at his desk. hunter is starting to get concerned that he isn’t answering his question and starts to get really nervous. daring and darling start to notice that he’s not doing well, and rumplestilskin yelling at him isn’t helping.

#I DIDNT DELETE IT ON PURPOSE IM SORRY #this is literally *chefs kiss*#darling charming #daring charming #dexter charming #sparrow hood #hunter hunstman #euphoria! eah au #ever after high #emma enchants

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blaststudy · 3 years

Text

8 Tips on How to Beat Test Anxiety

We’ve all been there, the exam is coming up, and you have no clue how you’re going to pass. Not only that, you don’t even know where to start to study! The night before, you might cram as much as you can. The day of, you fret, say a few prayers, and hope for the best.

It is a stressful cycle that all of us have been caught in – and, yeah, it stinks! But what if we told you there is a way to beat exam anxiety?

Yes, seriously.

If you follow the methods below, then you will not only eliminate text anxiety (or at least the majority of it because, let’s be real, tests are anxious for everyone, even the geniuses among us) you will also increase the amount of time you have to relax and spend doing the things you really want to do.

Sound too good to be true? Y’all, it’s not.

Now, I know what you’re thinking – you are looking for a magic pill, right? Sorry to break it to you, this isn’t a magic pill, but it is an excellent method to study while also saving time and reducing exam stress. Check it out below!

Eight Tips to Beat Test Anxiety

Tip #1: Find out the date of the exam

This might seem straightforward, but it is worth mentioning because it’s kind of important to know what day you’re actually taking the test. Mind-blowing, I know. But, honestly, a big part of exam anxiety comes with being surprised when the actual exam comes.

What? The test is tomorrow!? Noooooo.

Cue face grabs and moans of despair.

We do not want that to happen to you. So, to eliminate this part of test anxiety, be sure to find out exactly when the test is and put that on your calendar! To go one step further, you could put a one-week reminder on your calendar as well, so you won’t be completely caught off guard.

Tip #2: Go to class

I know, obvious much? But as the college kids know…you don’t have to go to class in college.

Hmm, perhaps I should have whispered that, so the high school kids didn’t hear it.

Going to class is important because studying the book alone can be a huge waste of time (when it comes to test-taking). Seriously. If you have the memory of a robot, then go ahead and memorize the entire textbook, but for all us humans out there, let’s just study what the teacher wants us to, mkay?

After class, write down what the teacher mentioned was important, and be sure to review that. From a pure saving time perspective, the more you learn from class and from the professor, the less work you have to do after class to try to figure things out on your own from the textbook.

This tip is the easiest one y’all. Wake up, go to class, and the teacher will tell you exactly what will be on the exam. Which takes us to tip #3.

Tip #3: Ask the teacher what is going to be on the exam

Literally, just ask because no teacher wants you to fail. They might have wanted that in the ol’ yonder days when a student’s standardized test wasn’t tied to the teacher’s own performance, but you better believe they do not want that now.

Believe it or not, teachers and professors want every single one of their students to pass and will literally tell you what to study. All you need to do is ask! If you pay attention in class, they will even give you hints like:

“Now, pay close attention to this part…”

“This is important…”

“You will be tested on this…”

“Listen up…”

“I want you to pay attention to this…”

“This will be on the test…”

If your high school teacher or college professor says anything along those lines, then you better believe that whatever they are mentioning is going to show up on the exam. So be sure to highlight it in your notes!

In addition, for all the college kids out there, if your professor offers a cram session, GO TO IT. They are basically finger feeding you what is going to be on the test. So, eat it up.

Tip #4: Create a list of what is going to be on the exam

If you followed tips #2 and #3, then you should have a basic idea of what will be on the exam. If you did not, and you still have a few days before the test, then go back to tip #3 and ask your teacher what is going to be on the test.

If you are terrified to talk to the teacher, then grab a friend to do it for you (in fact, this is covered in tip #5). Once you have your list of what is going to be on the exam, you can better study for the exam.

Now, the important thing about the list is – you do not have to study it all at once!

In fact, don’t look at your list and think, wow, this is impossible. No, no, it isn’t. It’s not even close to impossible (believe me, the brain is amazing and can handle it). The trick is to just study one thing on the list at a time. Once you finish that item, move to the next.

Studying one thing at a time will help you reduce your anxiety because it will allow you to focus, and it will give you a sense of accomplishment when you cross that study goal off the list.

Tip #5: Form a study group

You are not the only one who wants to pass the test. Seriously, just look around; everyone in this class wants to pass! They might want to pass by providing the least amount of effort possible, but they still want to pass.

This is when you can form a study group to divide and conquer. One person can pay close attention to when the teacher is mentioning what is important for the test. One person can literally ask the teacher what is going to be on the test. And one person can ask the TA (teacher’s assistant in college who usually runs the study session) what is going to be on the test.

It is important for students to understand that life is competition and the biggest competitive advantage in life is cooperation.

In other words, studying is a team sport! But it’s one of those team sports where everyone wins. So, form your team, and get to helping each other.

In study groups, you can share some of the workload, learn from one another, and encourage each other. From a psychological perspective, when you know that others are counting on you, you listen better and take better notes.

In addition, when you try to explain something to another person, it reinforces your own knowledge. Seriously, try it out. After you learn something, try and explain it to another person. Then you will really know if you learned it or not.

In the Blast Study Method, there is an option to form study groups and share material! Blast really believes in cooperation when taking exams and encourages that through our method.

Tip #6: Re-frame your mind

Many students think they are naturally bad test takers. However, scientists have mapped the entire human genome and found that there is no gene for test-taking. Therefore no one is naturally bad at taking tests! They are just not prepared and lack belief in themselves.

Let’s get over that, shall we?

The key to overcoming this negative belief is called re-framing. Re-framing is a process where you look at your test-taking ability through a new window or a new frame. You build this new frame by answering questions effectively. This is a large part of the Blast Study Method.

When you answer questions effectively, you start to re-frame your mind into becoming a great test taker. Olympic gymnasts follow this methodology to calm themselves down under the extreme pressure of Olympic competitions. They practice, have mock competitions, and visualize themselves succeeding.

You can do the same thing with studying! You can study, have mock quizzes and exams, and visualize yourself doing well or getting an A. The Blast Study Method does just this by giving you organized questions to help improve your test-taking confidence.

Tip #7: Start early

It is best if you do not wait until the last minute to study (i.e. the day before the test or, dare I say, tHe cLaSs pErioD beFoRe tHe tEsT). Waiting until the last minute is where the majority of test anxiety comes from: you wait, get surprised that the exam is tomorrow, then cram. It’s a vicious cycle.

Ideally, it would be wonderful to review what the professor spoke about in class after class each day. Though, sometimes, that is not possible, which is why we wanted you to make that one-week reminder to the test date (see tip #1)! At the very least, you will have a one-week heads up.

Blast Study is a great way to start studying early. The Blast Study method prepares a course study plan for you that tells you when to study. You will not be surprised when the test arrives using the Blast Study method. You will also be more confident because you will have taken mock quizzes and exams on the Blast Study site.

Tip #8 Study hands-free and on the go

Um, say what? How can I study hands-free? Yes, this can be a bit tricky for many students. Oftentimes students need their tablet to study and have to have their hands available to scroll.

But the best way to study on the go is through audio learning.

The Blast Study Method uses Alexa and audio learning as an easy-to-use, hands-free, on-the-go study method! Alexa will read questions and narratives to you that you can answer while exercising, cooking, cleaning, commuting, or many other daily activities.

And those are our 8 tips to help beat test anxiety!

Remember, studying can be easy and fun if you have the right strategy but terrifying if you don’t. This is also the case for taking tests. If you are not confident in your study method, then you won’t be confident during the exam.

But, with these methods, not only will you increase your test-taking confidence, you will also reduce your test-taking anxiety and improve your overall grades.

So, try it out and happy studying!

#Exam #examstress #study #exams #education #student #learning #facts #quiz #generalknowledge #study motivation #studying

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desparikon · 4 years

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Murdoc/Mac fanfic misfire #3

Murdoc is the last person standing between Mac and his plan to save the world.

Mac shook the tiny bottle, his stomach acid sloshing in unison.

It's not a date rape drug, he firmly reassured himself. OTC sleep aids. Murdoc would have a nice, long night’s sleep, and Mac would ditch his final tail. A small, but necessary, evil to temporarily get Murdoc out of the way. Nothing untoward was going to happen.

He slipped the bottle back into his jacket pocket, and took another sip of his drink, hoping the sweet stickiness would coat his stomach and settle the butterflies.

Disgusting.

What kind of message was he about to send to Murdoc, drugging his drink like that? It's sleazy, the lowest of the low. Everything Murdoc had ever done to him, and even he’d never attempted to trick Mac into ingesting something. Despite his intense, nearly overwhelming, feelings, and the opportunities, and the fact that drugging Mac would be the easy way to end his years-long craving.

No, Murdoc was bringing this onto himself. He was always too eager to make Mac’s business his own, so this time, he’d suffer the consequences. Murdoc was forcing him to make it personal.

They all were.

What part of Leave Me Alone, did people not understand? What part of I Have A Plan So Let Me Do This, jolted his friends into pursuing him around the world, in a chase that wasted time and resources, and threatened to exhaust them all to their breaking point?

Keeping loved ones safe sometimes required high risk and drastic sacrifices, and if he had to leave a trail of destroyed friendships behind him, then so be it.

Only Murdoc stood between him and finally being alone, and he had to get Murdoc to a safe distance. He couldn’t falter now. If everything went wrong, the fallout would be swift and brutal. His own survival was irrelevant, but Murdoc would absolutely not be collateral damage.

Whatever measures necessary.

Mac jumped, a hand grazing along his shoulder.

“Hello, MacGyver.” Murdoc sat back in the chair across the table, his ever present, smug smile on his face.

“Murdoc. I’m...happy to see you. Wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“Refuse an invitation from you? Never.” He eyed Mac’s nearly empty drink. “Though, it looks like you started without me.”

“It looked pretty.”

Murdoc leaned across the table and swiped the glass, finishing the drink for him.

“You do remember that I’ve been drinking out of that?”

“That is. Sweet. Really sweet. They need to double the alcohol in that, at least.”

As much as Mac wanted to throw back a few drinks to kill the stress, being on the run required him to be on at all times. Alcohol wasn’t an option. For now.

“I’ve been drinking out of that,” Mac repeated, stunned that Murdoc had drank out of his glass without hesitation. Flirting, or just being creepy?

“Yeah, I heard you.” “And you don’t care,” Mac smiled in spite of a sigh, “Of course you don’t. Alright. OK. Murdoc, can I get you a drink?”

“Surprise me.”

Mac appreciated the bar’s modernity in its ordering system. Using a tablet offered just enough anonymity for him to order the stereotypical girly drinks. The mermaid drink had been tasty. He had to take this opportunity to order the unicorn one. It even had little marshmallow ears; how adorable was that??

And Murdoc wouldn’t comment because he was getting the same thing.

As he pulled out his room key to scan and finish ordering, he also removed the drug bottle. Hopefully, having his back to their table made the motions of passing it to his free hand casual and undetected.

The relative emptiness of a hotel bar in the off-season, on a weekday, had the benefit of making the wait for their drinks less than five minutes. Unfortunately, that same lack of people left Murdoc with no one to watch but Mac. And watch he did, a mix of study and...admiration.

Mac rolled his shoulders and rubbed the back of his neck.

He wouldn’t have that respect after this.

A glance toward the bartender warned him that their drinks were nearly ready, the finishing touches being placed. The time was coming.

His heart pounded in his chest. No room for error. No leniency for cowardice.

He turned to retrieve their drinks from the counter, popping the bottle’s cap, careful to obscure Murdoc’s view.

To Murdoc, and a future with him in it.

In the cruelest turn of fate, a passing patron bumped Mac while he poured the drug. He jerked his hand back, and spilled the remainder of the bottle’s contents onto the counter. That split second of broken concentration was all his anxiety needed to turn the situation into a high-stakes gamble. He was only about 60% sure which drink he’d drugged.

”Ta da!” Mac gracefully presented a drink to Murdoc before sitting down with his own in hand. “Surprised?”

“Only in the sense that I’m always learning something new about you. Keeps things interesting, no?”

“Cheers.”

Like cotton candy. Exactly as the pink-blue gradient advertised.

“Not bad. Better than your last drink, but this one would also benefit from being harder.”

“I ordered them without alcohol.” Mac disassembled his drink, devouring the marshmallow ears and cherry horn before licking at the icing and sprinkles around the glass’s rim.

“Oh?” Murdoc offered Mac his uneaten marshmallow, using the opportunity to rub his knuckles against Mac’s hand.

“I don’t want to end up like Amber.”

“I’m not? Seeing the connection?”

“First date, couple of drinks...I don’t want to wake up tomorrow, married to you.”

Murdoc rolled his eyes. “OK, that is not how it happened, but…” He poked at his drink with its decorative stirrer, the impaled cherries muddling the layers, "I guess that whole thing is proof that waking up married to me would be a bad thing."

“I don’t want to be one of Phoenix’s most wanted.”

Murdoc hummed; Mac had tricked himself into mentioning the elephant in the room.

“You’ve been doing a fantastic job of that by yourself.”

“Don't.”

“I think you’re really starting to embrace the darkness. Never thought I’d see the day where you’re the one throwing traps into your friends’ path.”

“Nonlethal, and always designed to do minimal harm.” Mac glared, and laid his hands on the table, pushing his glass out of the way before he broke it. “Unlike you, I don’t enjoy hurting people. I’m not out to maim or kill.”

“Mmm, but accidents happen, don’t they? You’re running, and you’re tired, so tired...and sometimes, the hunter sneaks up, corners their prey--”

“Stop!”

“Why, the force could’ve snapped her leg off!”

“Shut up!” Mac growled, his arm shooting across the table with intent to grab Murdoc by his coat’s lapel, but Murdoc calmly sat back, just out of reach, unfazed by the outburst.

“Yikes, what kind of attention do you want to attract?”

Mac’s eyes darted around the room, relieved that there didn’t appear to be unwanted witnesses. Yet. Their corner table only offered so much privacy.

How long did those sleeping pills take?

“And the standoff with the whole gang the other day. I was on the edge of my seat! That ‘You want to stop me?! Kill me!’ was a nice touch. Really nice.”

“I needed them to understand how serious I was about being left alone.”

“Oh, I think you got your point across. Did you see Matilda considering it?” Mac’s flinch as he hung his head didn’t go unnoticed. “No? Well, I can tell you the first shot was going into your arm, but the second...Lucky for you, she decided the hospital wasn’t close enough.”

“Maybe that would’ve been the best for everyone,” Mac mumbled.

The heavy silence amplified the sounds of Murdoc’s glass, the clinking ice, the quiet plink of the stirrer being dropped onto the table--

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Nothing better than my suffering, right?”

“Not enjoying, merely proving a point that you seem to have forgotten.”

“That I’m capable of turning to the dark side.”

“Exactly the opposite. You can’t be completely corrupted. All the chaos you’ve caused, and you’re still the same MacGyver underneath it all.”

“Have you not been paying attention? I’ve changed. This is the new me.”

“New you? No, your methods might’ve changed, but your motivation hasn’t. Everything you do is for others. This dramatic show of recklessness, of pretending to go all the way, is all to cover up the fact that you care, relentlessly. So much so that you stupidly reject everyone’s help. Even if it costs you everything.”

“Because it’s a worthy trade off to save the world! I accept the risks. I know the possible outcomes. Why can’t you, or anyone else, respect my decisions?!”

“Do you hear yourself? You’re not gonna save the world on some haphazard solo mission!”

“At least I can say I tried.”

“I’ll admit I tagged along for the entertainment—and your performance has been stunning—but I didn’t come this far to watch you turn the third act into a tragedy.”

“Then go. I sure as Hell didn’t invite you,” Mac snarled.

He stormed out of the bar, but instead of going through the lobby and up to his room, he rounded a corner into an isolated service hallway, and slammed his back into the wall, struggling to keep himself upright.

“Fuck,” Mac huffed under his breath, his entire body shaking as he forced his fists to unclench. “Fuck.”

He’d let Murdoc get under his skin, and now, his problem had gone from leaving a drugged Murdoc in his hotel room, to finding Murdoc before he dozed off in a dangerous situation. Great. He’d taken a step backwards.

Before Mac could make it back into the main hallway, Murdoc appeared, and shoved him, death gripping his upper arms, and grinding his shoulders into the wall.

Of course. Why’d he ever doubt that Murdoc would find him?

“Let. Go.”

“First, you’re going to listen. You want to put me through the paces like your friends? Fine. I’ll play. But bring it all, bring your best shot, and don’t you dare hold back, because I certainly won’t. It’s time to keep my promise to end you, wouldn’t you say?”

Mac wasn’t sure Murdoc was bluffing. He was glaring with a fury that Mac hadn’t seen since Amber had betrayed him in Colombia.

“You’re going to kill me in this random hotel hallway?”

Murdoc squeezed harder, unamused by Mac’s sarcastic tone. “We both know the fun’s in the hunt. So when I say go, you better start running, my dear. Run, and never look back. I will hunt you to the ends of the Earth. Run you down to the point of collapse. But unlike the Phoenix, I will not be called off. You won’t have peace until one of us is dead.”

“Murdoc—”

“Or,” Murdoc shrugged and released his hold on Mac, “you can take me up on the second option, which I offer only because you’re my best friend, and I like you a lot.”

Even after all his experience with Murdoc, the instantaneous mood-flip was still unsettling.

“Just tell me what you’ve gotten yourself into, Angus.”

#macgyver #mine

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wishingforatypewriter · 4 years

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Between Us (Chapter 10)

Summary: Yukihira Souma is ever caught between his girlfriend and his rival. (Full story here)

During prep, there had been a social energy flowing through the kitchen, charged up with banter and music and off-color jokes. But as soon as the first orders arrived from the front of the house, it became a battleground.

The only sounds that could be heard were the manipulation of ingredients—sizzling oils and simmering sauces, inching towards their brief windows of perfection—and quick exchanges between the staff. During his first stagiaire with Chef Shinomiya, Souma had found this kind of atmosphere pretentious and intense, but now it was as ingrained in him as the jovial proceedings at the diner throughout his childhood.

“Check, chef?” One of the line cooks showed him her preparations of the vegetables that would accompany a duck entree.

“Looks good,” he said, offering a small grin. “Finish it.”

“Oui, chef.” She beamed at him, then quickly returned to her workstation.

If anyone had told him five years ago that he’d be opening a fine dining restaurant in the middle of Paris, he would have said they were out of their fucking mind. But here he was, risking his entire reputation in a venue so far removed from the Sumiredori Shopping District that it felt like a different plane of existence.

The pre-open was going smoothly. The kitchen kept pace with the orders, line cooks and sous chefs moving together like clockwork, and the front of the house staff kept the customers plied with wine and facts about the humble ingredients that came together to build their avant garde plates.

But then, an hour or so into the shift, the maitre d’ came into the kitchen, panicked. “Chef Yukihira, the Nakiri heiresses have arrived.”

For a moment, a slight buzz could be heard throughout the kitchen, as even the back waiters knew well the power of the Nakiri family. Souma, for his part, just shrugged. “Tell them I said hi,” he replied. “And tell them to stay for shift drinks if they want to hang out later.”

The maitre d’ — a man blond man in his early thirties — looked shocked beyond words at Souma’s familiarity, but quickly cleared his throat and recovered. “Right. I’ll pass the message along. But as to why I’m here—when Julia went to take their orders, Madame Erina Nakiri said, and I quote ‘Tell him to surprise me.’ I-I don’t know what we should tell her.”

Souma sighed, though a reluctant grin was spreading on his face. He could almost sense her presence out in the dining room, haughty and queenly, just daring him to try and impress her. Leave it to Nakiri to make him go off menu on opening night. He rolled his shoulders. “Have the wait staff bring her a bottle of the ‘05 cabernet, and tell Nakiri to give me twenty minutes.”

“Yes, chef.”

Once the maitre d’ had gone, Souma asked his sous chef to take over for a while.

“Of course, chef,” she said. “But what will you prepare to satisfy Madame Nakiri? I have heard many times that her palate is legendary.”

Souma smirked then, the idea coming into his head as he scanned the ingredient shelves. “A croque madame.”

The sous chef stared at him blankly, imagining a ham and cheese sandwich with a fried egg on top. “Er...chef. Are you sure this will be suitable?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, adjusting his apron. “I’ve been fighting with that tongue of hers for years now.”

“You’re terrible, Erina,” Alice said, laughing behind her hands. “You’re seriously going to order off menu in the middle of his opening? If you tried that with me, I would have killed you!”

Erina glanced down at her nails apathetically. “Anyone who talks as big as Yukihira should be ready at all times.”

“I don’t know.” Alice leaned forward, studying her cousin. “I think you’re just trying to get his attention.”

“E-excuse me? In what universe does Nakiri Erina covet the attention of others, let alone some upstart from high school?”

“You tell me, E-ri-na,” Alice sang. “Anyway, that poor waitress is probably back there having a heart attack because of you.”

“She kept herself very well composed,” Hisako said, swirling her wine elegantly. “We’ll have to tip generously.”

“We will,” Erina said, just before the girl brought her a bottle of cabernet.

“Chef Yukihira says that your dish will be finished in twenty minutes, Madame Nakiri.”

“Is that all he said?” she asked as a glass was poured out for her. There was a slight change in the server’s expression then, as though she’d remembered something amusing.

“Chef...Chef believes that you will be satisfied, madame.”

At this, Erina simply took a slow sip of her wine. “Wouldn’t he like to think so?”

When their table’s entrees were ready, Julia presented first Alice’s grilled lamb chops and then Hisako’s Sole meunière, but Erina’s dish was brought out by none other than the owner-chef himself.

Between the sight of Yukihira Souma and the presence of a dish featured nowhere on the menu, every eye in the dining room was fixed on their table.

“You never make things easy, Nakiri,” he said to her, grinning once he’d approached.

“That’s what I was saying,” Alice interjected, after which Hisako kicked her softly under the table, warning her to stay quiet.

Erina tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “If you wanted easy, you should have admitted defeat years ago.”

“Never that.” He put the dish down in front of her. It was a souffle of some kind. Erina could tell just by looking that the crust would be flaky and buttery. Curiously, though, it was topped with a perfectly done poached egg. “You’re gonna be the taste tester for the new secret menu item, Yukihira-style croque madame souffle. Enjoy, Nakiri!”

As the scent of leeks and truffles, cheese and ham and spices wafted up to her, Erina knew she would be in trouble. But she kept her face impassive as she cut into the pastry with her knife and fork. The scent grew stronger, and she nibbled at her lower lip in anticipation.

The first bite raised goosebumps on her skin, and the second brought color to her cheeks. Then she broke the egg, and a new world of deliciousness revealed itself. Erina’s eyes rolled back, and a breathy sigh escaped her as she drifted into a daydream of a waltz up in the clouds.

She was brought out of her reverie by none other than the chef who’d put her there. “So how does it taste?” he asked, smirking.

Erina quickly composed herself, clearing her head and righting her posture. “Don’t you have a kitchen to run? If you have time to chat me up all night, it must be because you have three Michelin stars already.”

“Alright, alright, message received,” Souma said. “But I’m gonna get a straight answer out of you one day, Nakiri. I won’t stop until you say it’s delicious.”

“Don’t hold your breath on that one,” she said. “But you can try.”

Once he was back inside his kitchen, Erina was free to savor the dish as fully as her elegant upbringing would allow.

“Megumi, who is that woman in the black?” her mother asked, after the whole restaurant had watched her boyfriend come out to serve Nakiri Erina. “Have you seen her before?”

Megumi found her throat clogged with profound irritation and wounded pride, and it took her a moment to regain her voice. “That’s Nakiri-san, mother. She is a friend from high school who comes from a very important family in the culinary world.”

“Oh,” her mother said, sounding somewhat placated. “So she’s someone who can make sure the restaurant does well?”

“She is,” Megumi replied. “Nakiri-san’s reviews can make or break any chef’s career. They call her palate the god tongue.”

“The god tongue?” her grandfather repeated, looking amused. “You make it sound like she has superpowers.”

“In a way she does,” Megumi explained. “She can correctly identify salt from any part of the world with just one taste.”

“Ah. So that’s what makes her so special?” her mother confirmed, shooting one more questioning glance at Erina’s table.

At this she sighed, glancing down at her plate, at the bœuf bourguignon that hearkened back to the start of them. “I suppose so.”

Megumi spent the remainder of the evening trying not to be upset with him. After the last of the guests were in their cars — her mother and grandfather safe in the towncar she’d rented to take them back to their hotel — she congratulated her love with open arms and warm kisses. She stayed for shift drinks and posed for pictures that would end up in all the culinary magazines come morning.

On the drive home, she reveled in the sensation of his arm around her shoulder, and drowsy with wine and fine food, she felt the tension leaving her body and the frustration parting from her soul.

And then his phone rang.

And once she heard, “Yo Nakiri,” over the bluetooth, it all came back a thousand fold. The call was brief this time, the stuff of key critics and brand recognition and next moves — yes, on opening night, he was discussing next moves — and by the time he parked the car in front of their apartment building, Megumi felt sick to her stomach.

As soon as they were in the house, she washed off her makeup and got dressed for bed, tossing the red dress that he hadn’t noticed into the laundry basket.

“Megs, you alright?” Souma asked her when he came out of the shower and found her tucked in bed. He ran a hand up and down her back in a soothing gesture. “You’ve been quiet all night.”

She rolled over to face him and smiled weakly. “I’m fine, Souma,” she said. “Just a headache.”

“I’ll bring you some aspirin,” he told her before leaving their room again. He returned a minute later with two pills and a glass of water, and started rubbing her neck and shoulders. “Why didn’t you say something before? I could have brought you home earlier.”

“It’s no big deal.” Megumi sighed as his gentle touch softened her once again. “The interviews are important, so—”

“You’re more important, Megumi.”

She said nothing in response, just leaned into his touch, and wondered despite herself whether he knew he was lying.

#shokugeki no soma #soueri #sorina #soumegu #food wars

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k-corner · 4 years

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Ashes of Love: The Problem with the ‘Protagonists’ Actions and Characterization, and an In-Depth Look at their Concerning ‘Romance’ Part 2

This is a continuation from Part One. Feel free to head on over there to take a look.

Part Two: Issues with Characterization –

Some points mentioned here have already been lightly touched on in part one as they deal with the plot, but they’re going to be looked at more in a characterization sort of way and in a ‘how that comes across to the audience’.

Now, since Ashes of Love is a romance story, it’s natural to assume that there’s going to be some sort of meet-cute, some sort of flirting or courting stage and then some sort of getting together stage that might be accompanied by something a little more concrete physically like kissing or sex or what have you depending on the rating of the show and the image it’s trying to get across.

Now in Ashes of Love, the main two love interests are Xu Feng and Jin Mi, whose characterizations should have some sort of weight to them that allows for a long-standing love story to spring up from them. This can be seen in the ideas of ‘introvert meets extrovert’ or ‘opposites attract’ or ‘birds of a feather flock together’ or some other variation of what personality and characteristics that these characters have that draws them in and is supposed to draw in the audience as well.

Here is where I would say the weakest part of the entire story of Ashes of Love stands. Not in the sometimes dragging storylines that make up the 60+ episode season, but in the base understandings of the two main characters that we as the audience are supposed to root for.

Xu Feng – AKA The Sexual Predator:

One of my biggest pet peeves in a ‘romance’ drama is anytime the two main love interests have some sort of accident – trip and fall, stumble into each other, get pushed into the same small space, etc. – and ‘OMG! Somehow despite height differences and just a basic understanding of how gravity and momentum works’ they’ll fall into a sweet, gentle kiss or somehow just press their lips together and I guess we’re supposed to swoon at the audience at something that really doesn’t mean anything. The fact that no one smashed each other’s noses or foreheads or something is the more impressive moment being seen in that scenario.

I digress though, but unfortunately Ashes of Love has moments like this. Unfortunately it also has moments that are so much worse. Xu Feng takes the kissing and courting parts of the storyline and runs with them from eyeroll territory and into concerned side-eye country. There are several moments, especially early in the show, when Xu Feng chooses to press his luck with Jin Mi and come onto her in a sexual/kissing/pawing at her and starting to take off her clothes while she lays there and looks up at him almost uncomprehendingly sort of way. He’s putting it all out there and out on the line, but somehow he’s not able to catch onto the fact that Jin Mi isn’t picking it up or worse, he doesn’t care and continues to press because it’s what he wants/desires.

Xu Feng’s character is a mess of ‘but she didn’t say no’ and ‘I don’t care that she’s chosen someone else I know she loves me so I have to keep pushing’ and my absolute favorite ‘Uncle, be a bro and tie us together using your mortal love fate strings for no reason other than I want to go get it on with my brother’s fiancé while I pretend I’m doing it to protect her and not take advantage of her in a vulnerable situation but it’s okay because I swear we truly love each other even though she’s never said it because she can’t actually say it right now but it’s going to be just fine just you wait’.

This is also the character who – and I would call this scene a full on assault scene regardless of him stopping himself before he goes too far and I’ll explain why – that got drunk and practically threw Jin Mi onto the bed before climbing over her and pulling at her clothes while she just laid there and blinked up at him with a kind of look that seemed innocent, uncomprehending and trusting. She had no clue what was happening in that moment as he pushes his luck. I’ll give – he stops himself though, as he should but not for the reasons he should. Why does he stop? Because at this point he thinks that there’s a possibility that she’s his sister. If he hadn’t thought that, would he have pushed harder? Would he have gone further? Who knows.

On top of creepy entitled behaviors that he shows to Jin Mi, he also takes pleasure in being unnecessarily cruel to her. The little back and forth in the Heaven Realm when he turned her into all of the various items to ‘teach her a lesson’ was not cute to me. It was borderline sadistic and just downright fucked up.

Leaving Jin Mi behind, Xu Feng still falls short when it comes to his characterization. He’s portrayed as a kind of Gary Stu. He’s the best at everything. The most powerful. He’s unchallenged by any other character – look at how the entire demon army flees before him! Look at how undefeatable he is in battle! Look at how easily he talks back to his mother with no repercussions! Look at how easily he ignores any possible feelings his brother might have and just keeps on pushing! Look at how every other side character prefers him! What a stud! (note sarcasm). Honestly Xu Feng is a character with no obstacles. The only one he has is that he is in love with his brother’s fiancé and his brother won’t give her up to him because he loves her too. How dare he! He’s evil incarnate! (note sarcasm again)

Plus, we have the narrative trying to portray Xu Feng as a supposedly moral and upright character in contrast to Run Yu who is a schemer. There’s just one problem. It’s easy to be lighthearted and benevolent and chill when you’ve never faced a day of hardship in your life, when you’ve clearly never been told no before and when the roulette wheel of fate always spins in your favor. What hardships has Xu Feng truly had to overcome? Everyone loves him and he is the Greatest at Everything™. We see his narrow world view though and how only what happens to him matters when he deals with the information about the Heavenly Empress’s tyrannical torture and killing fests. He doesn’t care that Run Yu has just lost his mother and has been tortured for the survivors he wants to talk about him and get Jin Mi. He doesn’t care that his mother murdered thousands of people because the Heavenly Emperor couldn’t keep it in his pants, how dare Run Yu disrespect her. Who cares if Xu Feng is the one who started them all down this path of misery by refusing to stop chasing after a woman who told him to stop and just kept pushing until he eventually won, he’s going to feel like he’s righteous enough to tell his brother to be alone for eternity as a price to be paid for what’s happened while Xu Feng goes to find a way to flounce off with Jin Mi and live happily ever after. Who cares if Xu Feng stripped Sui He of her powers and her sanity and threw her out to be tortured and eaten by demons without a trial or anything like that, everyone cheered him and he got the girl! Clearly he was right!

Jin Mi – AKA Born Sexy Yesterday:

Jin Mi’s whole characters storyline and plot depends and hangs onto the fact that Jin Mi is ‘naïve and sheltered’ and that she doesn’t have the ability to either consent or not consent to a male leads love. It’s because she doesn’t know what that is and can’t recognize these weird things he does! Like kiss her? Like start pulling off her clothes? Why would she say no? It’s all innocent fun!

Oh but wait, now she’s going to fall in love with this person because…because he’s constantly there and pawing at her regardless of what she says or does or how she reacts! Yay! True Love FTW! But it’s all okay because it might be that she was in love with him the whole time but it’s a good thing that he recognized it because she can’t figure out her own feelings and wrapping her mind around complicated things like love is just too hard so all of his attentions are okay somehow even though they were still done without consent but that’s okay because deep down she truly loved him. [flips a table in the distance].

Unfortunately Jin Mi’s whole story is all about her lack of agency or characters taking it away. Her mother gives her the pill. Her father sells her away before he even knows that she’s been born in an engagement to the Heaven Realm. Xu Feng continuously ignores what she says and pushes himself into her sphere and hounds her over and over again. Run Yu restores the pill and later holds her captive in the Heaven Realm. The Moon Immortal and Yan You literally turn her into a puppet to put her in wedding clothes and shove her at Xu Feng without her permission. How is any of this okay? Jin Mi needs to get the fuck out.

Plus, the story never seems to understand the limits of the pill. She can feel love, just not romantic love because she feels sibling/friendship love for her cactus friend and mourns her death. She acknowledges that she likes people like Run Yu and understands the concept of marriage and mothers and fathers despite somehow not understanding that Xu Feng is a boy and has different equipment. At certain points her level of ditzy and uncomprehending everything and anything was baffling for a woman who is thousands of years old. Sure, she lived sheltered in the Flower Realm so that’s why she got confused at a dick and wanted to cut it off…. but wait…there are men in the Flower Realm which means she would have come to understand the differences. A child catches onto them pretty quickly and that’s within two to five years. Why can Jin Mi not figure that out after four or five thousand?

This all adds up to the most irritating moment of characterization for Jin Mi. Wherein she decides based off of information that she has – before it’s verified or investigated into – to kill Xu Feng with her own hands. This is an action that Jin Mi chooses to take. Run Yu does not push her into this. Run Yu does not tell her to do this. He does not force her to kill Xu Feng. Later though, because of her guilt she throws the responsibility for her actions onto him and blames him and tears him down because of her own guilt. This is not okay for the supposedly main female lead. It’s not okay for anyone to demonize someone else and leave them holding the bag for something they had no control over. Learn to take responsibility for your own actions. It sucks, but you did it. He didn’t. Blaming him and saying that he doesn’t feel/understand love crossed a line after everything.

The extra characterizations of the other main characters I’m not going to go into but I will sum up as this:

Supposedly Smart Characters Doing Stupid/Crazy/Out of Character/WTF Things Because of ‘Plot’:

Sui He – Bechdel Tests Worst Nightmare AKA Female Character Only Exists To Further Male Story And Fawn Over Him.

Run Yu – But By God He’s Pretty When He Suffers AKA Actually a Disney Prince Cast Into Role Of Sea Witch For Reasons Unknown.

Tu Yao – Obvious Over The Top Bad Guy Is Obvious And Will Never Let You Forget It

Tai Wei – Satan’s Butthole.

#Ashes Of Love #Heavy Sweetness Ash-like Frost #ashes of love xu feng #ashes of love jin mi #xu feng #jin mi #my problems with the protagonists

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thereddieficlibrary · 5 years

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Reddie Soulmates Masterlist pt 1

his favourite colour is yellow. by odetodun (1/1 | 1414 | not rated)

Richie and Eddie have always seen the colours.

more than just a dream by fljghtlessbirds (10/10 | 21648 | mature)

soulmate: (n) “a person ideally suited to another as a close friend or romantic partner.” his whole life, eddie had heard the legends and myths of soulmates. everyone had a unique mark etched onto their body, and their soulmate had the exact same one. eddie still hasn't met his.

The Love Song of Edward T. Kaspbrak by bellatrixblacke (2/2 | 35214 | mature)

"What do you know about Words, Eddie?" Sonia asked.

He reeled back at her question, shocked. What in the Lord's name did words have to do with his mother's untimely death? "Words? Well, they're what we speak, and what we write, and-"

"No, no, not just ordinary words, Eddie," she interrupted him, slightly exasperated. "Words, a person's Words."

Eddie frowned. "A person's words? Like... Like their name?"

Eddie had no idea where his mother was getting at, but he looked at her, saw her wringing hands and the crease on her forehead, and suddenly knew he was about to learn something important.

"Not their name, Eddie, no," she explained. "The Words of their soulmate's song."

Wonky Compass by RanjantheVictor (1/1 | 8558 | teen)

Everyone has a soulmate, and everyone has a mark on their body hinting who that person could be. But marks and soulmates can change.

For Eddie Kaspbrak, figuring it over the years can be quite a challenge.

Our House, in the Middle of Our House by orphan_account (1/1 | 4460 | teen)

Whatever song your soulmate has stuck in their head is resultedly stuck in yours. Eddie, long suffering through mattress commercial jingles and old rock hits, imagines he would kill his soulmate if he had the chance. Or, he would, if he didn't think revenge was a better answer.

Friday, Never Hesitate by wings_g_leviosa (7/7 | 14519 | teen)

The next day, his mother told him to swallow a new pill. Oblong, slightly pink in color. It was bitter on his tongue, and he didn’t like it.

Clue(less) by endversed (1/1 | 8244 | teen)

Every person on this sorry planet wakes up on their seventeenth birthday with a soulmate mark somewhere on their body – but it’s not always easy to figure out. It’s not their name, or their first words to you, or even some kind of matching shape. It’s not anything clearly indicative; nothing concrete (at first).

No, all this mark gives you is a clue.

Cracked and broken. by sweetkisses (1/1 | 15890 | not rated)

Richie is good with words, fuck he's great with words, but he can't seem to say "I love you" to his soulmate, Eddie. Sure, both of their necklaces glow the peach color of love but neither boy has actually said it outloud. Maybe these few months of their junior year can push them to finally say it.

This is a sequel to my other fic, There is a crack right through my heart, you should probably read that first or else you might be a bit confused here.

I Believe A Thing Call Love by ma_cheries (1/? | 3042 | teen)

Soulmate Au- Soulmates wear mood rings but instead of the ring showing there own emotions, it shows their soulmate's mood

your true colours are beautiful (like a rainbow) by eddiefuckinkaspbrak (1/1 | 2371 | teen)

Soulmate AU where you see in black and white until you meet your soulmate.

Resigned to Fate (Fading Away) by punto_y_coma (1/1 | 7712 | teen)

Soulmate AU: Being next to your soulmate heals injuries.

Put Those Colors On by TheMightyChipmunk (2/2 | 16525 | explicit)

Richie Tozier wasn’t funny. He just wasn’t. And Eddie respected Bill for maintaining a friendship with the man since high school, even through Richie’s rise to fame, but no matter how much Eddie loved Bill, he could NOT sit there and pretend to appreciate Richie Tozier's Netflix Special.

“Can you not just sit there and bitch?” Bill asked and Eddie raised his hands in question.

“I didn't say anything!” Eddie argued. Bill rolled his eyes, shoving popcorn in his mouth.

“You’re been making dumb faces this whole time. I can practically hear the judgment rolling off of you.” Bill scolded, “There’s some funny stuff in here, if you get over yourself and... well, parse through the bullshit.” Eddie laughed once, loud and unbelieving.

“Bill, unclench. Eddie’s allowed to not love Richie as much as you do,” Audra said calmly, through a mouthful of Doritos, “I mean, the guy did just make a joke about dick-hole vaping.”

Seriously. Not. Funny.

***

Set in a universe where you don't see color until you hear your soulmate laugh, Eddie really doesn't think Richie is funny. I wonder how that's going to work out for them.

How Not to Be Soulmates by The Red Squirrel (Just_a_Fangirl) (3/17 | 14177 | teen)

When Eddie joined RB Publishing he expected the usual awkwardness that comes with starting a new job - like forgetting someone's name or losing his way to the kitchen. He did not expect to find himself in the middle of an intense office prank war, or to meet someone he hated as much as much as Richie fucking Tozier.

i love you so much it hurts my head by Biltchibo (1/1 | 5037 | teen)

“For the last time, Bill, I'm not going into that fucking shop with you!” Eddie came back to the moment, aggressively stapling the paper once. “That thing is full of flowers, top to bottom and, “ he turned around in his chair, staring pointedly at the man, Bill, across the room, “it’s Pollen Season, do you want me to die?”

or the Flower Shop/Tattoo Parlor Soulmate AU nobody asked for.

The Line Between Love and Hate by hufflepuffkaspbrak (1/1 | 2945 | teen)

They say there's a thin line between love and hate

or the soulmate au where you feel intense emotions with your soulmate & their name appears on your body the first time you touch

desiderium by giraffingallday (1/1 | 2631 | not rated)

He pushed his nose into the soft skin under his jaw, soft prickles itching his face and smoke mixed with a distant smell of plain white soap filling his nose. Richie placed his joint-free hand on the middle of Eddie’s back, just resting there as a heavy solid pressure, and started his story from the top. They weren’t, like, together, but this had always been a bit of a thing for them, the closeness. _

In a world where a soul can only find rest with it's mate, the same is true for Eddie Kaspbrak.

Truth or Dare? by Hand_of_the_Alex (1/1 | 4525 | teen)

When you turn eighteen you are unable to lie to your soulmate. It's Richie's birthday and the losers are going camping.

i fucked your mom by Hand_of_the_Alex (1/1 | 2396 | teen)

Soulmates have a specific phrase on them, a phrase that means something to the two of them.

Eddie has 'I fucked your mom' on his arm,

Soulmate AU: Injuries by HoshiYoshi (1/1 | 1308 | teen)

Soulmates are born with flowers in the places their soulmate is going to be injured in some way that's significant to them.

Beverly has a flower on her abdomen. Mike has flowers around his face and on the inside of his wrists. Richie, on the other hand, has a giant flower on his chest.

sick of losing soulmates by Sunflowers_And_Bluebelles (1/1 | 4934 | general)

That night, Richie was told about soulmates. His mother’s eyes had lit up when Richie told her about the disappearing ink and she quickly ushered him to the dinner table. Everyone could start communicating with them at different ages and Richie was very young compared to others. Soulmates. A person perfectly suited just for you.

the ruby effect by paxamdays (1/1 | 2931 | general)

‘Ruby’ was derived from the word ‘rubatosis’, which in turn had the very vague definition of 'the awareness of your own heartbeat.' Eddie didn't know how one was supposed to be able to feel their own heartbeat, let alone someone else's, but he doesn't make the rules so it didn't matter at all.

•

In which Eddie is a cynic and Richie, in true Richie Tozier fashion, makes truly awful jokes (and neither of them really know how to talk to each other without being fucking awkward, but that's fine.)

It's Always Been You by chucknovak (1/1 | 2342 | teen)

At midnight on their 18th birthday, every person develops a mark somewhere on their body identical to that of their soulmate. Richie Tozier thinks the whole soulmate business is bullshit; there's only one person he wants his soulmate to be, and what if it's not him?

Stop Thinking So Much by eddiesgazebos (1/1 | 1286 | teen)

the one where Eddie meets a new boy that seems to have something VERY special about his mind.

the writing on your skin by eddiefuckinkaspbrak (1/1 | 2498 | teen)

Prompt: The au where whatever you write on yourself shows up on your soulmates body where you wrote it with Eddie and Richie. It would be super cute ❤️

we have traveled (love and pain) by sunsetozier (1/1 | 4929 | teen)

The Prompt: soulmate au where you share intense emotions. like if richie is really sad then eddie feels sad, if one of them gets punched really hard the other one can kind of feel it. reddie are friends but don't realize they're soulmates until they get confronted by bowers or jumped or whatever depending on how old you want to make them and one of them gets hurt and that's how they figure it out.

man, i can't believe dumbledore died by wheezy_trashmouth (3/? | 1312 | mature)

basically. soulmate tattoo au. eddie doesnt Have a soulmate! ....or does he? haha..jk.........unless??

Handcuffs, Feathers, Rings, and Tattoos by inawaragainstreality (21/21 | 41922 | teen)

Richie's always believed in soulmates and he knows that Eddie Kaspbrak is his soulmate. So much so, he's not showing Eddie his soulmate tattoo until Eddie has his. He wants them to be the first people to see each other's.

But then Richie gets into an accident and loses his memory. His family moves away shortly after. Eddie and the rest of the Losers struggle to deal with their lives without Richie as well as what their new tattoos can mean.

Eddie's almost ready to get over his first love (well second) and start his college life when he runs into the last person he would ever want to see.

Soulmates in Paint by ironarm (1/1 | 1602 | general)

Eddie just wants to hand in his art project, Richie wants to get his number, and apparently, soulmates are a thing.

Eds by Ness09 (1/1 | 7910 | not rated)

When Eddie wakes up on his sixteenth birthday, he finds Eds tattooed onto his skin, but Richie has already found his soulmate. A lot of people hide their soulmate tattoos, but none of them are friends with Richie Tozier.

hard to see this time of night by eddiespaghetti (foxwatson) (1/1 | 8587 | teen)

For 27 years, Eddie Kaspbrak doesn't remember his dreams. Something about him is just broken. But after everything, in Derry, when he falls asleep - he dreams.

at once i knew i was not magnificent by wishie (2/2 | 11651 | general)

Soulmates make romance easier, but they are not, after all, a guarantee. Richie finds this out the hard way, and Eddie realizes the problems with forever. (Or, Richie and Eddie fall apart.)

regrets by r_eddie (1/1 | 2145 | teen)

Where people can feel what their soulmate feels when they touched and things that are hidden safely in their mind are blurted out unexpectedly.

The second Richie accidentally touched Eddie, they instantly knew that they were soulmates. But the problem was that they couldn't even stand being in the same room as each other. When their friends found out, they became determined to help them realize what they're missing out in front of them.

i've lived and died a hundred times by bughead (1/1 | 6167 | general)

In a rare moment of genuinity, Eddie whispers, “I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

Eddie and Richie's souls are connected, and they've met millions of times throughout history.

(or, some souls are just meant to meet, one way or another)

I Lost Who We Are by richietoaster (1/1 | 4534 | teen)

Richie frowns, “You can go home if you want to. I won’t be mad at you.”

“I don’t want to. I like hanging out with you. I don’t know, it’s weird..” Eddie looks up at the sky as if he’s trying to think about how to word what he’s trying to say, “You know how magicians, like.. Pull a rabbit out of their hats?”

Richie nods. “I love magic! The card tricks are always cool-io.”

“Yeah.. I’m the rabbit. I appear. And it’s like you’re a magician.”

“I don’t think I understand.”

Eddie shrugs, “I don’t think I do, either."

how do you sleep when you lie to me? by stansrichie (1/1 | 3331 | not rated)

reddie soulmate au where when you write on your skin, it’ll show up on your soulmates skin as well so eddie started wearing long sleeves… until one day, he doesn’t.

Bless You by reddiebitch (1/1 | 1494 | teen)

Soulmate AU where you sneeze at the same time as your soulmate, and Richie has terrible allergies.

The Water Will Carry Me to You by LuddleBubble (1/1 | 8813 | general)

Richie Tozier dreams about his soulmate every night, but he had no idea what they look like, sound like, or even what their name is. It's like that for everyone with soulmates- they interact in their dreams without really giving away their identities. The only way of knowing who your soulmate is, is that you have to meet them out in the world. Of course, you won't know right away, just once you go to sleep that night and you see their face. Richie isn't really looking for his soulmate on this particular day, but instead is just looking to have some fun with his friends. But that's how it works, isn't it? You only find something when you aren't looking for it.

Love me, please? by hoeziertozier (1/1 | 2346 | general)

Everyone has a mark on their body from birth that only they can see. It becomes visible to their soulmate once they fall in love with them. This means that you can love a number of people in your life, but only one of them is your soulmate.So even though everything might be set in stone from the beginning, at least you still get to experience the whole ride of falling in love, and the heartbreak that comes with it being the wrong the person. But he was Richie Tozier, and the universe was never on his side.

best part of me is you by eddiefuckinkaspbrak (1/1 | 2076 | teen)

Eddie and Richie are soulmates who can feel each others immediate emotions. Fluffy!

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #reddie fics #reddie fanfiction #reddie masterlist #soulmates #masterlist #masterlists #soulmates masterlist #au

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ladyreapermc · 5 years

Text

Fic: Graham Norton (Keanu x F!Reader)

Summary: based off Keanu’s first appearance in Graham Norton and the ‘I never’ bit.

Pairing: Keanu x F!Reader

Author’s Notes: So this has been sitting on my laptop for a while. I’m not all that happy with it and Keanu went so ooc in this, but that the hell! I’m gonna let you guys be the judge of it! Thank you @caryled for being my beta on this.

Wordcount: 2485

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, but otherwise pretty safe.

You’ve spent months saving money for this trip because it was your dream. You didn’t even remember when you started wishing you’d spend one of your birthdays in London, but it was finally happening now, on your twentieth-first. You thought it was fitting - such a momentous occasion marked by the trip of your life.

You and your best friend Sadie arrived a couple of days before New Year’s Eve of 2011 and would spend ten days in London, including your birthday. You planned to do so much on that trip that when you shared your ideas with Sadie, she nearly asked for a refund on her ticket.

The two of you began with all the regular tourist stuff, but there were also a few things that would be so special to you, like visiting some of the Doctor Who locations and doing the Jack the Ripper Walking Tour in Whitechapel, because you were a true-crime enthusiastic.

Along with all the sightseeing and other attractions, you and Sadie went barhopping every night, or better saying, pub hopping. Not only you because Sadie wanted to enjoy being able to legally drink since she wasn’t turning twenty-one until September, but you also wanted the best London experience you could get.

And to make sure that happened, the two of you made a pack in the airport of your hometown to assure neither of you would miss a unique opportunity by being embarrassed or afraid.

Whenever one of you said I dare you, the other had to do it or face the consequences, which would probably be an even more embarrassing or terrifying prank so the one being challenged might as well just suck it up and do the first dare already. So far, neither of you had backed down from a dare and you had all the pictures to prove it. As well as the hangovers.

On the morning of your birthday and Sadie woke you up at the crack of dawn, jumping on your bed and scaring the shit out of you. She had a higher alcohol tolerance than you, so even though both of you drank around the same amount, you had a pounding headache, while she looked fresh and wide awake.

“Rise and shine my dear! It’s your birthday! You’re officially legal! How does it feel?” She asked, bouncing on your bed.

“I hate you!” you groaned, feeling your stomach queasy. Your mouth tasted like something had crawled inside and died. “It’s six in the morning!”

“I know! I could barely sleep! I wanted to give you your present!” She announced, voice high-pitched with excitement as she shoved an envelope in your hands. “Open it!”

Grumbling in annoyance, you sat up and rubbed your eyes, trying to force yourself into consciousness. Fortunately, Sadie took pity on you and brought over some water and a bottle of aspirin.

You popped two pills before finally opening the envelope under Sadie's giddy gaze. You found two tickets to something called The Graham Norton Show that would happen that night.

“Thanks, Sadie,” you said, trying to force a happy smile. You could tell that she was obviously excited about this.

“Turn it around,” she asked, still smiling and unfazed by your less than enthusiastic response.

You obeyed and when your brain registered the name of one of the guests, your eyes went wide with shock.

“OH MY GOD!” You screamed looking at her. “Are you serious?”

“Yes!” She grinned. “Happy birthday, bitch!”

You looked back at the tickets, still in disbelief. Your favorite actor, Keanu Reeves would be a guest at the Graham Norton show tonight. You were going to share a room with Keanu, breathe the same air, maybe you’d get to ask a question? Was Graham Norton the kind of show with audience interaction?

To be honest, you didn’t really care. You were just happy to see him in person. That would be a dream come true. A photo and an autograph would be just a cherry on top, but not an actual need.

“You’re the best friend ever!” You told Sadie, pulling her into a bearhug, hungover completely forgotten.

You spent the rest of the day beaming with excitement, unable to focus on anything other than counting down the hours and minutes until you finally got to see Keanu. And maybe that was a little geeky of you, but you put on your The Matrix T-shirt for the night. Not only it was your favorite tee, but also such a special occasion deserved it.

You and Sadie arrived early at the studio, but there was still a line to get in. The two of you got good seats, middle section. Of course, you wanted to be closer, but you could only imagine how much those tickets would cost.

You could barely contain your excitement when he finally came on stage, dressed in an all-black suit, his long hair touching the collar of his shirt; beard a little unkempt, but it still suited him perfectly. As you watched him, your heart hammered against your ribs and your chest felt tight, like you were struggling to breathe. You just couldn’t sit still.

So, you took a moment to force yourself to relax and control your breathing. It wouldn’t do you any good having an anxiety attack right now. You’d miss the entire show and your chance of fangirling over Keanu.

It was a good interview and you couldn’t believe you’ve never heard of this talk show before. The host was pretty funny and had great chemistry with all the guests. He gave Keanu quite a lot of attention and the comedian, Marcus, was making a lot of comments on what was said.

You found it really sweet how Keanu tried to get Emilia involved in the conversation since she was quiet for a while, something that should’ve been the host’s job. You enjoyed the easy banter the four of them seemed to share and all the new tidbits of information about Keanu you were learning that day.

When it came time for the ‘I never’ section, something that Graham had explained before the show started and invited the audience to think on really common stuff that they had never done, but everyone else might have.

As Norton walked between the rolls of seats, talking to the audience, Sadie tugged your arm, catching your attention.

“I dare you to say I never kissed Keanu Reeves,” she whispered to you with a wicked grin and you stared at her wide-eyed.

“You’re crazy! I’m not doin’ it!” You hissed, feeling your cheeks hot at the mere thought of it.

“Do you really wanna face the consequences?” she asked with an arched eyebrow and from the way she was smirking, you could tell she was planning a terrible prank if you kept saying no.

So, against your better judgment, you put your hand up, praying that Norton wouldn’t pick you. There were many other people whose hands were raised as well.

He walked right past you to talk to the girl who had never seen The Matrix and you gasped in shock. You could sort of forgive someone not having read or seen Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings, but The Matrix?

Then Norton teased the guy that never ironed a shirt and for a moment you almost sighed in relief thinking you’d be free from the embarrassment.

“How about you?” he asked, gesturing at you and you froze, nearly dropping the mic when he gave it to you. “Where are you from, dear?”

“I came here for my birthday,” you replied, voice trembling.

“Oh! Happy birthday,” Norton said with a smile. “So, what’s your I never?”

You glanced at Sadie, pleading with your eyes, but her smirk only grew, and she shook her head. So, taking a deep breath and avoiding looking over the stage, you said:

“I-uh never kissed Keanu Reeves.”

People around you were chuckling and clapping and you just wanted to hide and pretend you didn’t just say that aloud.

Against your better judgment, you glanced at the stage and your gaze briefly locked with Keanu’s warm brown eyes. You could tell he was a little flustered in embarrassment, but there was a soft, amused smile playing on his lips.

“Good try,” Norton declared, laughing. “But you never will.”

Keanu finally looked away from you when Norton returned to the stage and the show resumed with the interviews. You found it hard to keep your gaze on the guests, still too mortified and confused. You even ignored Sadie, because she was mean and you hated her a little, even if she was your best friend.

When the show was finally over, you couldn’t wait to get out, put as much distance between yourself and what happened tonight, but the isles between the seats were narrow so you had to wait for everyone else in front of you to move before you could step out.

“Excuse me, miss?” a male voice called, and you turned to see a man in all black and with a headset on standing behind you. He looked like he worked for production. “Can you come with me, please?”

You shared a quick look with Sadie, but she just shrugged, promising to wait for you outside, before you followed the production assistant.

He took you through a maze of hallways behind the main stage until he paused at a door and knocked once before opening it for you. When you stepped inside, you froze in shock at seeing Keanu Reeves up close.

“Hi there,” he smiled and offered you a hand.

You stared at it for a moment, your brain too overwhelmed to actually process what was going on. He actually giggled, ducking his head and that was what finally shook you from your stunned silence.

“Hi!” you managed to stutter your name and take his hand and you were shaking. “I’m so sorry about what I said. It was a stupid dare from a friend.”

“It’s fine, I thought it was funny,” Keanu actually patted your hand in a comforting manner, and you managed a small, relieved smile. “Cool shirt.”

You looked down at yourself and chuckled, feeling your cheeks hot.

“Thanks. It’s one of my favorite movies,” you started. “I love your movies.”

You forced yourself to stop there even if you wanted to say more. Even if you wanted to tell him how much you appreciated his work and how his movies meant to you, but you didn’t want to sound too eager and weird.

“Thank you,” he replied with a smile, looking a half pleased, half self-conscious. “Listen, I just want to make sure you were alright. You looked really embarrassed afterward and like I said, I really didn’t mind.”

That was really sweet of him to worry, especially when you embarrassed both of you in front of a huge audience and on live TV. And just remembering it made you cringe.

“Hey, come on. It’s your birthday,” Keanu said in a comforting tone, correctly deducing why you were making that face. “You should enjoy it. Happy birthday, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you managed a smile because he looked a little awkward himself as he tried to console you and that was cute. “Can I have a picture and an autograph?”

“Of course.”

You grabbed your phone from your pocket and positioned yourself next to him, snapping a couple of pictures. You checked them quickly, making sure they were good, before pocketing your phone again.

“Do you have a piece of paper?” Keanu asked, picking up a sharpie pen.

For a moment you hesitated. You did have your Graham Norton ticket with you, but there wasn’t where you wanted the autograph.

“Can you do it on my shirt?”

“Sure.”

Beaming, you shrugged off your jacket and turned his arm at him, and Keanu signed your sleeve. You glanced over and grinned when you realized that he also wrote Welcome to the desert of the real, a line from the movie.

“Thank you so much!”

He just chuckled, pocketing the sharpie. He opened the door for you, stepping out of the dressing room along with you and leading the way to a maze of hallways.

“So, what do you do?”

“I’m a majoring in English,” you replied, hands in your pocket as you walked side by side. “I’ve got one term left so I should probably start figuring out what I’m gonna do with the rest of my life.”

You had no idea why you just said that to Keanu, a complete stranger. You weren’t one to blurt out your private dilemmas. Not even to your own friends.

“Well, what do you want to do?” he asked, sounding actually curious.

“Am I being realistic or a dreamer?”

“Realistic,” Keanu replied, glancing at you.

“I want to teach,” you said with a fair amount of confidence. You already had a few internships and you knew that was something you liked doing it.

“And what’s your dream?”

The two of you had stopped in front of an emergency back exit. Keanu probably didn’t want to be mobbed by fans by going through the main entrance of the studio.

Keanu watched you as you thought about his question. It wasn’t as if you didn’t know the answer. It was just that you had never said aloud before. Not even to yourself, but you wanted to say it to him. He had been your inspiration after all. If it hadn’t been for his movies, you would have never realized how much you loved to create your own stories; how much you loved to write.

“I want to be a writer,” you confessed, and his smile shifted into something soft and understanding and it took your breath away.

“Can I offer some advice?” he said, and you nodded. “Life’s too short to get stuck doing something you don’t really love. Follow your dreams.”

You felt your heart swell with emotion at the simple encouragement because it was so full of meaning. You couldn’t even begin to tell him how much it meant to you.

You met his gaze again in the half-light of the hallway and there was something in them that you couldn’t quite name, but it held you still, rooted to your spot, heart thundering in your chest, a lump of emotion closing of your throat.

Keanu leaned forward, his lips brushing softly against yours, beard tickling your skin. It was a barely-there touch, but it felt branded on you.

“Now you can have some fun in your next I never game,” he said with a small smirk and you grinned. “It was very nice to meet you.”

He stepped back and held the door open for you.

“You too, Keanu.”

You stepped outside a huge grin on your lips. This had certainly been the best birthday ever.

xxx

Taglist (give me a shout if you want to added.)

@poisonedjoinery @ringa-starr @curly-minnie @i-cant-remember-my-old-login

@caryled @beyond-antares @kathorax @krazycags01 @meetmeinthematinee

@red-pill-blue-pill @baphometwolf666

#keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #one shot #fanfic #keanu reeves

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