#seriously fuck weight watchers

[smallpotatoes-dandelions]

Why the FUCK am I getting a weight watchers ad on tumblr??? Don't they know this is the website where we eat cake and stay sexy???

[avasefullofnations]

I hate when I'm back to eating normal foods and then my father decides to start a new diet and just starts openly speaking about how bad certain foods are and measurements and how many calories are in things. He knows I have a history with disordered eating but yet he feels the need to talk about how terrible the foods I am also consuming is and I just 🙃

It all just makes me want to fast forward to the future when I've completed the steps needed to move out bc this is so not healthy to be around

[abyssalpriest]

I am really excited for the worship of inversion though. Theres. hmm. I guess that's the part where I need to open MY gates to this stuff but like. The Carrion Crow priest. The reaper. Sickle in hand harvesting energy.... You have to understand I exist to give, I fucking love giving. Breast milk and eyes form the core of my symbolic existence - so does the Sky Bird, untouchable watcher that is the Sky - for a reason, I love to give energy, open gates, and sit back and watch. Man. To be taken from? Fantastic. I guess that's why Lev's throwing this at me, "this" being the inversion thing because inversion needs to be central and has been central since the beginning... and will be central. The idea of being an official priest is scary because it means I'm no longer abstract and giving, I'm a siphon, a riverbank, and uh. as lev wants me to realise. Important.

But this is about inversion and Polarity, it's not about taking and being important - it's about taking to give, being important in the way I show others they don't need me and what they're capable of. Worship is release, giving is taking, and it's not just fun little symbols. It's about power, it's about being both one body and all bodies, about being a follower and the followed. And seriously, if you aren't getting when you give and you aren't powerful when you're submitting then we've failed our jobs and we need to rework what we're doing.

The whole thing needs to have the wheel of life and cycle of consumption at it's centre - plant prey predator plant prey predator (etc) - and learning to be the ouroboros that is all three of these things, witness, body, consumer... Bound by death - living through death.

Honestly it's about embodied Polarity. The bottom of the ocean is hard to adjust to... But when the last breath is taken from your lungs and your mind inverts and your body gives in you will realise you're more comfortable and safe than you've ever been - and you have been the whole time. The sky is endless information and the point of Oneness that destroys your conceptions of reality and brings your life into pointlessness because you are just one of God's scales - and through that you gain control of your life, your power, your purpose, you understand that you can create your own purpose, the individual makes way for God and God makes way for the individual. The blackness, the meditative silence, the absence, the shroud of his energy, the sleeping, are canvases upon which to paint whatever you want. The black 1D dot at the centre of your soul is an infinite gateway into all else.

The carrion crows watch you. The spiders weave webs in your room. They watch you because they're watching over you, you are part of their packs. The black waters suffocate the room at night lit by candles that flicker under waters' weight. This is comforting safety. You now understand the sun is an abstract, parasitic, eldritch body of his that spirals into all life on earth including your own body, the day sky is a dream haze of endless information that swallows awareness, him laid over creation filtering it from the waters... Both are elements you can touch and play and make things with, a god body both untouchable/sacrosanct and completely given to you/of the people - clay given to you freely as one of the Sky Father's own.

Then I become the bird which watches over.... hosts to information, speakers of Madness, possessed and through possession climbing, spiralling, like the Centipede through reality. Hosts to tiny things writhing in the bodies, offshoots of the Leviathan, individual microcosmic skies swimming with birds and clouds. Those who play with each body of theirs, the animal selves, the conscious minds, the past and future selves.... their blood and energy flowing as one, the body as a sacred temple to the self, shrouded host to the singular utterance of your own individual Name..........

[madmaryholiday]

ok, so there's some heavy body image and dieting talk under the cut, brought on by the weight watchers post i just reblogged. be safe, friends.

seriously, though, weight watchers seriously fucked up my life. it made me see food as a necessary evil instead of as FUEL FOR MY BODY, and i still have to consciously resist the urge to start restricting again.

i used to starve myself for weeks so that i could "save up" WW points and gorge myself on candy at sleepovers.

i lost....i think 15 pounds total. over the course of several years.

i was 200 lbs then. now i'm....probably around 320. i'm afraid to weigh myself because i realized recently that my clothes were getting noticeably too small, and seeing the exact number might make me fall back into that restrict/binge cycle again.

and honestly, i'd rather keep gaining weight than go back to that.

and i have to tell myself that over and over again, because while i know it's true, there's still that little awful voice in the back of my head going "well you could just get back under 300. that's not so hard, right?" and if i go down that road, i will never be satisfied.

20 years later, and i'm still trying to undo the psychological damage those fucking diets did to me. i know i'll probably never undo the physical damage, but i can at least try to do better by my body now.

i mean it was so fucking insidious.

by divorcing food from its actual nutritional value and instead assigning it a "points" value, WW caused my 12yo brain come to the conclusion that sugar-free jello and non-fat whipped topping was an acceptable meal. because both were technically 0 points, so i could "save" the points for dinner, or for another day entirely. low-calorie bread would be another meal, 4 slices of toast with low-fat margarine so together it would only be a point or two. it taught me nothing about nutrition and led me to game the system however i could so i could "earn" binges.

all this while i was still actively growing.

or not, i guess, because like i said, i didn't grow at all past age 12.

anyway, tl;dr: weight watchers ruined my life, and i'm still mad about it.

i should try to find the little points calculators we used back then and fucking BURN them.

[tinabelcherseroticfriendfiction]

Paparazzi

Title: Paparazzi Fandom: RPF: Sebastian Stan Pairing: Sebastian Stan/(female)Reader Rating: PG-13 Warnings: Fatphobia, internet trolls, bullying, body dysmorphia, depression, anxiety, etc. Sebastian being the best boyfriend (yes, that is a warning, shut up) Summary: You and Seb have been dating for a while, and while you try to keep out of the spotlight, a surprise paparazzi photo of you arises on the internet and trolls have taken to attacking you. Sebastian comes to the rescue, reminding you that you're perfect no matter what any online bully says.

Yet again, shout out to my beta reader @welcome-to-the-sin-zone for putting up with me :P love you, girl! I do not typically write real person fanfictions, so this is probably going to be the only one I ever write. But enjoy!

User15428654: did u see teh photos of him and his “girlfrined” at the beach? she looks like a beached whale!

User47504165: He looked like he was having fun. She makes him happy, what does her weight have to do with anything?

User58462465: shes a fat bitch. shes just a gold digger, anyway. Theres no way he actually likes her. she probably just gives great head or something. 

User14984145: Seriously, he could have anyone, and he’s wtih this fat cow. The hell? She so ugly.

You sighed and closed your laptop. It wasn’t like you went looking for the negative comments. It was just a hazard of the internet. You had gone online to look for more fanfictions when you managed to tumble down the rabbit hole that is Tumblr, and ended up on a you-bashing thread where everyone was commenting on the paparazzi photo of you and Sebastian that got leaked earlier that week. 

You knew dating a celebrity had consequences. It was one of the many things the two of you had discussed before you agreed to start dating. When you met, you were just a team member of the catering business hired for one of his movies, but you had hit it off so well, he asked you out and you’d been dating ever since. But you both took extra precaution to avoid the spotlight.

Sebastian would invite you to every event, party, and premier he went to, and you would always decline. You weren’t supermodel beautiful. You weren’t this blonde haired blue eyed, 110lb little actress or model that usually hung off the arms of celebrities.

No, your entire life you’ve been reminded that you’re ugly. Fat. And that keeps you out of the spotlight. Your mental health was fragile enough as it was, you didn’t need internet trolls or anyone else making you feel worse.

But Seb had convinced you to go on vacation with him. Not that there had been much convincing. You had jumped on the opportunity to get away, just the two of you, for a week of relaxation and fun. You had gone scuba diving, boating, swimming, and dolphin watching. It was the best week of your life.

Until a photo of you in your swimsuit surfaced the internet. Now, you were back home, in your tiny ass apartment in New York while Seb was at another one of his events, and you had just wanted to read some fanfiction for the night. 

Eyes stinging with unshed tears, you shoved your laptop into your bedside table and threw your phone against the wall, not caring if you broke it. This was why you had been hesitant to date him. You loved Seb. You really did, and he understood you. But being in the public eye was not something you ever wanted. And now, here you were. Feeling worse than you had in months. Your heart felt like it was literally trying to sink into your stomach, your stomach felt like you could vomit at any second, and the tears you had been holding back were now streaming down your face faster than you could wipe them away. 

“Fuck!” you screamed, throwing yourself onto your bed and burying your face in your pillow.

Your whole life you’d been self-conscious of your weight, your parents having pointed it out ever since you were 4. You had tried every diet, been to more Weight Watchers meetings than you could count, and still nothing helped you lose weight. Your parents forced you into sports to try and make you lose weight and even that didn’t work.

There were days when your self-esteem was so low, you couldn’t look at yourself in the mirror. Your favorite outfits felt wrong, and you just wanted to take a scalpel to your body and carve away all the fat and rolls to create your perfect body. 

Those days were the worst. And today was becoming one of them. You tried, you really did, to not let other people’s opinions of you sour your own opinion of yourself. But after over 28 years of not knowing who you were because you had tried to be someone else, it was hard. You’d tried your whole life to be the person others wanted. It wasn’t until you were around 28 that you finally started working on yourself to be authentically you. 

But hearing people trash your boyfriend, the love of your life, because he was dating you, was the straw the broke the camel’s back. It was like every fear you’d had came to light. So you just curled up in bed and cried until you finally fell asleep, hating yourself more and more.

You were woken up by the sound of someone entering your apartment. Any other time, you’d have grabbed your baseball bat and charged like a madwoman at anyone who attempted to break into your place, but you felt so bad you just didn’t care. If they wanted to kill you, let them.

But then you heard Sebastian call your name and you sighed, pulling the blanket up over your head more. You really didn’t want him to see you like this, but your luck was always shit. So you weren’t surprised when he slipped into your tiny bedroom and sat down on the bed next to you .

“Hey, you asleep?” He asked softly as he rested his hand on your head.

“No…” You admitted, your voice rough from crying all night. “The event over?”

“Yeah, it ended last night. Are you alright?”

Last night? You frowned, glancing up from the covers at Sebastian. “What time is it?”

“It’s noon, baby,” He chuckled. “Are you sick? Or just tired? You haven’t answered your phone, I thought maybe you were sick…”

You sighed and rolled over, shaking your head. No, you weren’t sick. Not unless you counted the sickly feeling in your stomach from crying so much. “Just tired…” you lied. 

It was an easy lie. One you’ve used more often that not throughout your life. “How was the… whatever it was?”

“It was good. Wish you had been there.” He always says that. “Scoot over, I wanna cuddle.”

“You know I don’t like the spotlight…” You did as he asked, scooting over as far as you could on the full sized mattress, making room for him.

“I know, but you would have had such a good time. Everyone was cracking dad jokes like it was their job,” He teased you, knowing your love of lame jokes, bad dad jokes, and puns.

You couldn’t bring yourself to even smile, though. “And if I had been there, all the jokes would have been about me!” You bit. “The fat bitch Seb is dating, oh look at the beached whale trying to squeeze into that dress, isn’t it fucking funny? I bet he doesn’t even have to move when they have sex, just smack her belly and ride the waves!” 

“What -” Sebastian sat up and looked down at you, concern etched into his features. “What the hell are you going on about?” He asked, angry.

“Nothing.” you muttered, trying to bury your face into the pillow again, assuming he was pissed at you.

“No, no, no,” Sebastian grabbed your shoulder and rolled you over, actually looking at you for the first time that day, taking in your blood shot eyes, puffy bags underneath them, and the tear stains down your cheeks. “What happened? Who said that to you?” He demanded. “Give me their names. I’ll fucking kick their asses!”

“No one,” You muttered as you rubbed your eyes. “Just - a photo got leaked online and -” “Babe…” Sebastian reached out and brushed the tears off your face. “You are beautiful and perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing about you. And I know you know that, so what happened?” You shook your head a little and sighed, sitting up a bit on the bed and accepting Sebastian’s offer for a hug. “I just wanted to read some fanfictions…” You muttered. “I got on Tumblr and was just trying to find some good Stucky fics, yeah, I know. I’m a dweeb.” You felt Sebastian’s chuckle more than you heard it. “But somehow I ended up on this thread about the photo of me in a swimsuit on our vacation and I just…”

“Please don’t let internet trolls get to you, babe.” Sebastian pleaded. “They don’t know you, they’re just jealous.”

“I know. I know they’re just toxic fans and they’d find any excuse to complain about anyone you were dating, but I am fat. I know it, and I know I’m not some conventional beauty, or live up to any beauty standards, and it’s taken my whole life to try and be comfortable in my own skin, but it still hurts. It hurts so bad… And people posting about how we’re never seen in public because you’re ashamed of me - and I know you aren’t,” you quickly added before he could say anything. “I know. It’s my choice, and I want to reply and be like ‘listen, cunt, the reason he’s not seen with me is because I asked him not to! Not the other way around, you stubid fucking walnut’, but I can’t because I don’t wanna be attacked even more… I wish I was skinny… I really do. I want to be a size four with perky little tits and a small ass and a thigh gap so my legs don’t chafe as I walk, but that’s not the body I was born into. I’ll never be that girl. But I just -”

“People suck.” Sebastian rubbed your back. “And they’re taking cheap shots because it’s easy and makes them feel better about themselves. But you can’t let them get to you like this, baby. You are such an amazing person and you are so caring, and so kind. And so beautiful. Inside, and out. And if they can’t see that, that’s on them. I’d never want to change a thing about you, and I would love to show you off to the world. Show everyone what they could have, but they can’t. Because I have you.”

“I don’t want anyone attacking you because of me, though…” You admitted, looking up at him. “And you know they would.”

“Babe, people have been attacking me for everything from being too thick during Civil War to being too skinny during Pam and Tommy. They’ve accused me of everything from homophobia to racism. That’s part of being a celebrity”

You made a face and grumbled under your breath for a moment. “People suck.” 

Sebastian chuckled again and kissed your cheek, nuzzling you. “Yeah, babe. They do.”

~*~Fin~*~

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Hi Rawr, for your fanfic ask game: 💖 What made you start writing?

🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them. (Eskel or Lambert for this one please?) Sending you lots of love!

What made you start writing?

I used to roleplay with a good friend; we used to write some seriously dark stuff which would totally get me cancelled by the youth of today’s standards. I started at 12 and kinda petered out around 16 when that friend moved away. I didn’t write again until 28 (start of the pandemic). I was sitting in bed recovering and trying not to think about the Black Death, and someone said that Netflix had done an adaptation of that game I liked, what was it? The Watchers…? (fuck sake…) I watched it. Chatted with a friend about bits and bobs, then decided to write something. That shoved me right back into my game obsession and I reread some of the books from when I read them a while back.

Headcanon: Eskel

Give the big guy some love. Hmm. Favourite headcanon.

At the moment, I’m toying with Eskel’s attachment to the Path and how difficult it would be to extract him from it. I use the word “extract” because I think everything Eskel is—the identity and sense of self he has forged—is wound up in his role as a Witcher. It gives him reason, a justification for everything he’s suffered, and a sense of “moving forward”. You know those people who have to keep working or they’ll just disintegrate under the weight of whatever’s eating at them? That’s Eskel.

The idea of not dying on the Path, of hanging up his swords and having to unpick all that trauma he has stomped way, way down, I think that’s terrifying for him, and, whether us Eskel fans like it or not, Eskel runs from things that frighten him, or things that he feels are too big for him to handle on his own (because he’s shit at relying on other people; he was taught self-sufficiency, which is wound up in some toxic masculinity bullshit he definitely got spoonfed at Camp Death Kaer Morhen). He ran from Deidre—avoiding an entire fucking kingdom—he ran from the conversations about war and neutrality in Blood of Elves while Lambert sank his teeth in, and he would sooner avoid conflict between Lambert and Vesemir rather than take sides.

Coward feels too harsh; I don’t think anyone could fault Eskel’s bravery, not after he throws his whole Eskussy at Caranthir like that, but I do think Eskel has major issues about Not Being Good Enough for things and Letting People Down, so he kinda… avoids.

[hipboneregression]

tw ed rant w/ numbers

this is fucking long.

i've lost 15lbs since starting to relapse on november 1. keep in mind, i'm a very, very high starting weight.

ED's voice has always been whispering to me, like a devil on my shoulder. i have been ignoring it, for the most part, since i moved back home in 2014, after treatment.

but in october, when i finally saw "255" flashing at me on the scale, the whisper became a scream. i loathed what i saw in the mirror, how i felt in my clothes, how i fucking looked in pictures, how i felt when i exercised, all of it. fucking digusting. were those feelings influenced by seeing that number on the scale? maybe. maybe they were but i will not act like i haven't felt miserable in this body, at this weight, bouncing between 220 and 250 for fucking years.

my friend had been visiting and i had been saying, "fuck it" and trying to eat as normally as possible. to resist the urge to fast and exercise off most of what i ate. but the day after she left, the day after halloween, i snapped.

in retrospect, the last eight years or so have been a slow decline into this specific relapse. i left chicago in 2014 knowing i had gained weight from my lowest at 130, but never seeing the number on the scale. by the time i started grad school i realized i was ballooning, but felt alright, and didn't care. until i did.

sometime in law school i began to loathe what i was seeing in the mirror and my shape again. i knew i was huge. overweight. obese. that's when i began to seriously work out again, and i knew i was losing something, even though i had no scale to tell. in september 2017, i saw my weight for the first time in literal years, "227" flashed at me on the scale. a hundred fucking pound gain? i snapped then, too. by the summer of 2018, i was able to get down to 184 before the lightswitch turned off again. i realized it wasn't sustainable, the fasting, the laxatives, the purging. i stopped on my own without treatment and got a new therapist who specialized in trauma. she's been a great help, but she has no clue what's going on now.

my partner and i are trying to conceive. i've wanted a baby so badly over the last year and a half, i can't tell you how much that specific desire digs at me. i'm fucking 30, alright? i had decided it wouldn't be worth trying to lose weight, at least not purposefully, because i didn't want to fuck up my ovulation pattern. except it never happened. it never happened, it still hasn't happened, and the more and more i read online, the more i find out about how obesity impacts fertility.

i tried. i tried to do it the "right" way. i tried noom. i tried weight watchers. i went on walks every fucking day and meal prepped. i'm too god damn impatient for that shit.

and then, in october, i finally was able to see a specialist. she didn't want to test me for anything related to fertility. you know what she wanted to test me on? metabolic syndrome. because i'm a fat fuck. because the scale flashed "255" at her too. of course i don't have it, but she ran the tests anyways and referred me to an HSG. that showed that i have a polyp in my uterus and scarring on my fucking left fallopian tube. broken, broken again.

so here i am. i'm at 238.6 as of today, and you know the sickest thing of all? i don't want to get pregnant at all. not until i reach a "healthy" BMI.

i'm going out of town today for the weekend, to see a friend from college. one who has seen my weight balloon up and down over the fucking years. the shame i feel for ruining my good body is so magnified right now, but most of all i'm terrified about how i'm going to sustain my behaviors over the weekend. i've been doing OMAD. just one little meal a day. fasting at least 20 hours a day no matter what. and working out 3-5 times per week. it's really working fucking wonders, obviously, but i'm in hell.

i think i can pull off the OMAD today while traveling, but what about tomorrow? saturday is out of the question, and sunday likley too. that's horrifying. i don't want to actively purge while i'm there, but it might be my only option.

i'm sick. i'm so sick of this ed, sick of these thoughts, sick of this fucking hell. i'm sick of fucking writing about it. it's all consuming. and yet, here i am. again. 15 pounds down, and it didn't happen fast enough, it's still not good enough, i shouldn't even have had to lose that in the first place. but i guess it is something.

[ladykailolu]

I was thinking about my OC Mela and her POS fiancè Armani and then wrote this lol. It is NSFW tho a little bit so watch out.

TW: implied sexual abuse, implied drinking

Mela walks into the room and instantly spots Armani--he always was a magnet for her attention like a deer staring into the field, ears fanned out, alert for a tiger waiting in ambush. At his feet was a scale, a fancy and sleek kind with a digital face, and in his hands were a clipboard and pen. He tapped the pen on the clipboard, and when he looked at her, his eyes dropped to her abdomen, thighs, and arms. She felt like she was being scanned from head to toe, but she played it nice and wore a polite smile. She stood there, rigid and elegant like a Barbie doll with this stupid fake smile smile and dolled up face. It was almost inhumane.

"Armani, I'm happy to see you--"

"Get on the scale."

"What?"

"You missed your weekly weigh-in two weeks in a row now. Miss one more and you might as well quit dancing and join Weight Watchers just like all the other women who can't control themselves."

She hid behind her smile. It was the only thing she could do while being dehumanized. It wasn't hard; it was second nature, even if she knew exactly how awful it stung. She only wished that it would end quickly, and she could escape into her dreams.

He looked over her again, seeing her less as a human and more as cargo. "I need to make sure that you haven't gained much these last two weeks." He patted her abdomen, and she swallowed her need to scream. "But something tells me that you've gained more than just a pound. Must be all that wine you drink around me at supper. Now get on the scale."

She obeyed and felt so small under him that she might as well have been a little girl getting scolded for sneaking off with too many treats. It felt like an eternity for the scale to stop reading, but when it did, it was horror. She had gained, not a pound or two, but five, and from the way he clicked his tongue and tapped on his clipboard as he wrote, it was five very noticeable pounds.

He was right: all the wine she drank in the past two weeks to escape him only locked her in her cage and threw away the key.

"Five pounds is n-nothing, Armani. I can lose them just as easily as I gained them." Her voice was cracking. She was showing weakness that she dared not show to anyone. The steel pillars of her strength were falling apart, and he knew. He could smell it like a shark smells blood in the water from a struggling fish.

"You better believe that no one will hire you if you keep this up. No more wine, no more bread. From now on, you will eat what and when I saw you may eat. And when you're not eating, you will be working off those five pounds and then some."

She stepped off the scale and kept her gaze to the floor. She felt like a little girl getting scolded by her father all over again.

"What's the matter with you?" Armani continued, and tossed his clipboard and pen onto the counter. "You've never let yourself go like this. And believe me, you *will* be working that extra weight off, starting tonight." He closed in on her, and she fought back every instinct that screamed at her to back away. His hands roamed her arms and shoulders, and his breath wafted hints of whiskey across her face. He was drinking with his work buddies again, probably to close another deal, and that never ended well for her when he arrived home. "Take off your dress but leave everything else on."

Now she felt the need to step back burn even hotter. "Please." She used her best pleading voice, meek yet firm enough to be taken at least somewhat seriously. Yet, he was clearly drinking that night, and he always gets more pushy under the influence. "I'd much rather wait until our wedding night."

"That's what you always say."

"Well, it's the right thing to do! I can't...live knowing that I went against my family values and slept with you early."

"To hell with 'family values.' Why won't you fuck me? It's not like you'll be fucking any other man. Why wait until after the cheap ceremony?"

He wasn't hitting her yet. That was new. He couldn't be actually agreeing with her, right? She had to tread carefully. She clasped one of his hands gently, brought it to her lips, and kissed his fingers. He tasted like acid and cigarettes and made her want to vomit.

"Because it'll be worth it. Trust me. It's always more pleasurable to wait."

"Tch!"

"It's not like you have any competition! I'm yours, and that's an undeniable fact. And if you wait, I'll do anything you ask me to on our wedding night."

He leaned in close. Too close. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to die. But she did none of these things and simply waited for his next move.

"Anything?" She didn't like his threatening tone--it almost sounded as if he wanted to hurt her so bad that it would make her wish that she was dead. Or worse.

"Yes, anything." She nodded and smiled, pretending that she wasn't human.

"You better." He whispered and kissed her lips then her cheek and her neck. He seemed tired while he felt her--his hands weren't as strong as she remember when he squeezed, grabbed, and manhandled her. And when he left her to crash onto the bed, she was let off the hook.

In the bathroom and confident that he was drunk and passed out, she broke down and cried.

[keyofjetwolf]

So we’ve got three different couples running around in this episode, let’s take a second with them.

There’s Prime and Fucky Jones, my personal feelings about which I know I’ve kept pretty low-key, so you guys may not have picked up my subtle notes of distaste. So much of the show has been created with an eye toward emotion and tone; more than once, I’ve spiraled off on some tangent or another about the camerawork. I have trouble, then, believing it didn’t know exactly what it was doing when it had Fucky Jones as such an overbearing, threatening, desperately unpleasant partner. HERE HOWEVER IS MY CONCERN: I’m worried that the point the show is going to land on with this is how part of the problem was BETH, and that now it’s Sarah, He’s Changed. I can’t shake the feeling that the show is considering them seriously, which doesn’t thrill me (it anti-thrills me), but also I’m a long-time veteran of The Heterosexuality, so this is a survivable event and all. My greatest hope at the moment is he’ll go be a hero or something and die, which can’t happen any time too soon, in my book. But anyway, so there’s our central het romance, one free in every package.

There’s Suburbia and Sleeveless White Tee, and I’m pretty sure that’s not going to go anywhere significant. Suburbia knows exactly what she’s after with this, and I think it’s a great way for her to seize some control. I feel pretty confident saying that’s what’s been missing in her life; she’s wound tight as a fucking noose and allows no inch in her day-to-day because it’s the only parts of her life she feels she CAN control. I’M SURE THIS CLONE SITUATION DROPPING IN HER LAP HELPED A LOT WITH THAT. So this is pretty big for her, I think, and while Sleeveless White Tee might develop (or think he’s developed) feelings for her, I very seriously doubt she’s going to return them. I in fact look forward to her telling him he was a life-sized dildo and she’s putting him back in the drawer, so any time you’re ready for that, show.**

** Not necessarily behaviour I would cheer and support on a random individual, but the show’s taken steps to let us know Sleeveless White Tee is a serial cheater with very little compassion to spare for those around him, so I have NO problem in him getting that heaped back on him in spades.

But then there’s these two, Cosmic and Gay For Science,  and they sit in the middle of the other couples today. We know Gay For Science is under direction of the Clonespiracy, but we’ve seen enough of her with them to catch how OFF it feels. Fucky Jones was blackmailed into his position. What are the odds he’s the only one? (Plus the extra layer of awful if she’s also being sexually coerced by the big bad, nyynnn.) So is she playing Cosmic, like Fucky Jones was with Beth? Using her, like Suburbia is Sleeveless White Tee? DOES SHE EVEN KNOW?? For all that Cosmic keeps insisting she’s just trying to play her Watcher, I think we all know it’s like 80% bullshit.

There’s how their scenes are shot, too, like in the above cap. The backlight, the way it floods the colour and shadow from the scene. There’s just the two of them, this moment of connection. When it’s them, just them, the tone of their scenes change. Prime and Fucky Jones, in their general presentation, read to me as a sort of standard romantic relationship, hitting most of the beats you’d expect, moving at about the pace it’s “supposed” to. Cosmic and GFS though, it’s skirting around the edges, it’s looks that last a little too long, it’s smiles that shine a little too much.

Is it just because they’re two women? I DUNNO MAYBE. I’m straight, the fuck do I know. But I do think the show is putting its romantic weight here, which is such a fucking welcome change from the usual Fucky Jones nonsense, it cheers me considerably.

Or, if not, it’s emotionally prepping to destroy me, WHICH I COULD ALSO BE INTO.

[theboombutton]

Fic Brainstorming 2

I have more TMA fanfic ideas that are fun concepts but are missing important elements like "plot" and "characters." I would like to invite people who enjoy idea riffing to riff on this with me.

So, the second fic idea:

TMA: Lens of the Eye

The Setup

In the final episode, Martin doesn't realize that Jon is gone until he's already begun shifting fear domains around to prioritize the End. And by "prioritize" I mean "he's turning the entire world into an End domain, fuck all the other fears."

And because killing the entire world is literally the most End action you can take, Jon begins to shift in real (non-)time from an avatar of The Eye, to an avatar of The End. While he's still the Pupil of the Eye.

And you know what happens when a lens is out of alignment. (buh-dum tch)

Anyway, with a primarily-an-End-avatar as its Pupil, the Beholding's vision is blurry at best. Beholding is still "in charge" of the apocalypse - that was set by the ritual, so The End doesn't take over head fear by virtue of owning the Archivist - but it has lost the capacity to overSee (most of) the torture farm that is Earth. The warden is MIA, and the guards and inmates have been left to run the prison themselves.

Some domains remain intact, but with the unnatural order of season 5 broken down, others dissolve under their own weight. Time flows in fits and starts, in currents around islands of timelessness.

The old Eye-only domains are the only places the Eye can still get a clear bead on what's happening, and the selective attention of the Watcher burns like radiation poisoning to those who expose themselves to the Eye Sky. The London Aboveground is particularly dangerous to travel: there the Beholding's strength is even greater than it was before, like a magnifying glass setting an anthill alight.

I'm hoping for this fic to have old school post-Watcher's Crown fanfic vibes - not just post-160 fanfic vibes, but also the season 3 and 4 fics that posited a world where Jon kickstarted the apocalypse.

The Brainstorm

1. A plot? A plot would be nice.

2. More worldbuilding would also be cool. Original characters yada yada.

3. Seriously I basically have nothing except the inciting incident for this, it's completely a "Hey wouldn't it be neat if" fic. And yeah, me! It would be neat if! Now I just need to develop it into a story someone might actually want to read, dammit

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #360

“we are the ones that wanna play  /  always wanna go, but you never wanna stay”

"Crawling" or "In The End?" I want to say "Crawling," but I really can't be sure. Both are bomb. Is your window open? No. Monsters Inc. or Shrek? Shrek, my man. What did you last hear that made your jaw drop? Jason's mom died. What is the longest shower or bath you have ever taken? I remember as kids, Nicole and I would sometimes play 'til Mom made us finish because the water was cold by then. As an adult, idk about my longest shower. Do you have a preference of chocolate? Yeah, milk chocolate. Is there anyone you’d like to hug right now? Yeah. Could you ever picture someone writing a biography about you? Definitely not. Do you have a clock in your room? No. Do you shut off the computer when you’re done using it? No, I just close it. Do you usually catch a cold during the winter? No. I just about never get sick. Are you a good multi-tasker? NOOOOOOOOOOO. Do you know any deaf people? If so, is it easy or difficult to have conversations with them? No. Is there a door knocker on your front door? No. Were you ever into Pokémon? Bitch I still am. Do you drink a lot of water? Sigh, no. I'm definitely better than I used to be, though; once upon a time, I literally never drank it unless I was extremely hot and dehydrated. Nowadays, it's usually after I finish my soda for the day that I then only drink water, normally around one full tall cup of it. Do you like fireworks? They're beautiful, but I'm personally against them out of respect for veterans suffering from PTSD as well as animals, because I'm not exactly interested in traumatizing them, either. Is respect given or earned with you? It's given, the way I think it should be. Are you “in the closet” about anything? No. Are you missing any teeth? No. Do you like scrapbooking? I've never gotten into it and am not really interested in doing so. What was or will be your first tattoo? It's a semicolon butterfly on my right wrist. Sometimes I've thought about getting it covered with a cooler design but the same concept; it was literally from Google, and I'm very much not into "sharing" tattoo designs with probably thousands of other people. But, I still think it really is cute, and it's just very special to me as my first, so idk. Do you have any tattoos dedicated to someone special? I have one written in Sara's handwriting inside a heart, and my "ohana" tattoo that I am 100% getting covered was dedicated to my former best friend Colleen. I've talked before about why "ohana" has never really resonated with me, and I just don't like it anymore at all. Thank God it's small. Do you like ghost stories? Oh HELL yeah, lay 'em on me. What was your favorite movie as a kid? The Lion King. Some things never change, ha. Do you own a lot of cookbooks? Mom has looooots, but never uses any. I think her mom gave them to her, so she just keeps 'em. What’s your father’s handwriting like? It looks like every other man's handwriting I've ever seen lol. All the letters are capitalized. Did you wash your hair last time you showered? I wash my hair every time I shower. I have to with it naturally being so oily. What does your shampoo smell like? Coconut. Do you listen to Guns N' Roses? Not a lot, but yeah. They've got some bangers. I actually want "Sweet Child O' Mine" to be the father/daughter dance at my wedding. Have you ever been a bridesmaid? Yeah, at my sister's wedding. What was the last video game that you beat? I replayed Silent Hill 2 a long time ago. Have you ever hyperventilated? Yep. Do you talk in your sleep? I scream in my sleep. Nightmares/terrors are a blast. Whose house did you last sleep over? Sara's. Have you ever been cut by scissors? No. Do you like peaches? It's odd, I like canned sliced peaches, but the actual, full fruit, I don't. I love peach flavored juice, though. Do you enjoy being surrounded by neighbors, or would you be more comfortable someplace secluded? Take me back to the middle of nowhere, please. I'm really not digging being in an actual neighborhood. Is there any sibling rivalry between you and your siblings, if you have any? Not at all. Do you usually root for the good guys or the bad guys? Ha, the baddies... Are you allowed to have pets at your house? We're allowed to have what we currently own and then maybe one dog if Mom finally finds one. Have you ever lived in a trailer park? No. Is there anyone that you know through the internet that you would feel comfortable meeting in person? There's quite a few, actually! Have you ever had a dream involving characters from a game/movie/television show? Yeah. What’s the last thing you wrote down? My signature, I think? Do you remember any phone numbers from years ago that now belong to someone you don’t know? No. Have you ever found something strange in your mailbox? No. Who was the last relative that came to visit you? My half-sister and her husband. Does your bedding all match? Not currently. Are you more comfortable with having short hair or long hair? SHORT. Are you interested in fantasy movies/shows? That's my preference. Have you ever gone whale-watching? No, but that'd be dope. What is something that you have a large amount of? Meerkat plushies. Who is it that you’re in love with? Nobody. Have you ever gotten love and infatuation confused? No. Do you have a steady income? No. Do you take your medications in the morning or at night? Both. Have you ever bought a YouTuber’s merch? No, I wish. :( Do you think oatmeal tastes better when made with water or milk? MILK. I don't eat it with water. When was the last time you ran into someone that you didn’t want to see? Idk. Have you ever tried vlogging, and if yes, did you stick with it? Noooo, I'm completely disinterested in doing that myself. If you go to church, what is your favorite thing about it? I don't go. Even as a kid when Mom made me, I hated it. ^and what is your least favorite thing about it? N/A What do you do for exercise? I don't. .-. I want a pool SO badly to swim and strengthen my legs without having to worry about sweating or collapsing, though. Mom says we don't have space, but we definitely do. Not a lot, but enough. Do you have a birthmark? If yes, what color is it? Yeah, it's just a bit darker than the rest of my skin. Do you need to lose weight? Yes. My sister, Mom, and I very recently started a Weight Watchers subscription and we're all working our asses off to stick to it. Ash has already lost like, 12 pounds (she started before Mom and me), so I'm kinda hopeful. Have you ever had a cat? Growing up, after we took in a stray female, we ended up with a fucking empire of cats, literally around three dozen, I'd say. They were all outdoors, too, and not fixed because we couldn't afford it, so tomcats would come around and, y'know, make matters worse. Eventually, animal control took them all and I was DEVASTATED, but looking back, I understand it was necessary. Anyway, I have one cat now. Indoors and fixed and the prince of my world, haha. Have you ever had a dog? We've had a few. I was born with my dad having a collie named Trigger, but I don't remember her at all; she died of old age I believe when I was very young. Then we briefly had a pup named Angel, but she died due to that disease some puppies just have. We didn't get another dog until Teddy, who was my Christmas present, and he was put to sleep only last year, rest my baby's soul. We also had Dale, Cali, Delilah, and Bentley. Have you ever any other kind of animal? A LOT. I'm probably going to forget some, but we've had hamsters, rats, snakes, fish, a turtle, two lizards, gerbils, guinea pigs... just a lot. Animals have always been very important in my life. Have you ever had a pet rock? HA, yeah. I didn't take it seriously at all, but I had one. When was the last time you painted something? Not since my Painting course in my final college attempt. Do you have any disabilities? Not in the traditional sense, no. My social anxiety though is at such a severity that it majorly infringes upon my ability to do a LOT of things, though. What are five of your favorite stores at the mall? I couldn't name five. Just Hot Topic and Spencer's, really. What season do you want to get married in? AUTUMN. The actual dream situation would be to get married in the snow in a black dress, like can you IMAGINE the pictures, but realistically, it'd be in the fall to avoid the biting cold. Has anyone ever spread lies about you? Yeah. Anything special planned for today? Nope. Blue or green? Blue. How much older/younger than you was the person you lost your virginity to? He's two years older than me. Do you still care for that person? Very much. Can you completely annihilate the first Mario game in less than an hour? I haven't even played the first game. I've never really been into the games to begin with. Did you make it all the way through the Oregon Trail game? Yes! I was OOOOOBSESSEEEEEED as a kid. I would usually play it after school when my mom was an assistant teacher and was finishing up her work for the day. Have you ever contemplated climbing a water tower? Uh, no. Those kind of people got some wanderlust levels that I ain't got, haha. If you have a Facebook, when was the last time you changed your profile picture? It's been a few months. Would you ever marry someone who was lower class? Um, yes? You can deny it all you want, but answering "no" is pretty much the same as saying you'd marry for money. Is there a guy you wish you hadn’t let slip away? ugh Which do you prefer: English or math? English, by light years. Who is a singer that has given you chills? David Draiman's voice in the Disturbed cover of "Sound of Silence" is fucking haunting. Greatest cover of all time. Do you watch America’s Got Talent? I did when Sharon was a judge. Do you think you could win America’s Got Talent? Hell no. What act would you perform in a talent show? uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Have you ever practiced yoga? Yes. I used to be BANGIN at it. What is your favorite thing to buy at the Farmer’s Market? Fruit! Do you get carsickness? No. What color is the rim of your full-length mirror? Black. What is your state’s bird (if you live in the US)? Cardinal. Which style of wedding dress is your favorite? I'm a sucker for ballgown dresses. Do you enjoy editing videos? I used to love it, for many many years. Now, I just don't have the dedication or motivation to. Do you enjoy editing photos? Yes. If you gave birth, do you think you would want it filmed? Um, absolutely not. I would have NO desire to look back on me shrieking my lungs out and essentially dying. I handle abdominal pain very poorly, so I've got a goooood feeling that if I actually wanted to have kids, I'd be that woman screeching like a banshee.

[baepsaets]

Someone Comments On Your Weight

maknae line: you feel like you need to lose weight.

warnings: mentions of weight loss, insecurity, slightly suggestive themes

(a/n: maknae line is here! as always, there is a read more in place!)

Intro

After an exhausting day, you decided to swing by a local coffee shop on your way home. It was the late afternoon, so it wasn’t crowded. You ordered your coffee and paid, but while the barista was making it, you found your eye drawn to the pastry display. There was a delicious-looking pastry calling your name, and after such a long day, you decided to treat yourself. When the barista came back to give you your drink, you pointed to what you wanted and said, “Can I also have one of those, please?”

The woman paused, glancing at you, and then back at the pastry.

“Are you sure you need that?” she asked, not unkindly. In fact, her eyes were distinctly sympathetic while she stared. You watched her eyes drop down and then back up, giving you a onceover that must have left much to be desired, because her sympathetic look turned pitying.

“I, uh—,” you started, unsure and embarrassed. You reached for your coffee, the urge to flee overwhelming. “Never mind. Goodbye.”

She handed you the coffee and squeaked out a quick, “Have a nice day!” You barely heard her as you dashed out the door, not looking back.

Park Jimin

You were kissing him softly, next to him on the mattress, when he laid down and tried to draw you on top of him.

You subtly resisted. He subtly tried again, and you finally broke the kiss. Rubbing the back of your neck, you couldn’t meet his gaze while he stared at you in confusion.

“Is something wrong?” he asked. It wasn’t often you got to see him like this—relaxed, on your bed. His schedule was so busy. Sometimes it felt like you never really got him to yourself, and here you were—ruining it, all because of what some stupid barista had said.

“I don’t wanna be on top tonight, Jimin. Is that okay?”

He sat up and maneuvered his head, trying to get you to look him. When you finally did, you could see concern in his dark eyes. “Why not? It’s sexy.”

“It’s not sexy and I’ll crush you,” you said, bluntly. He jerked back in surprise, a flash of hurt on his face. Jimin took your insecurities very seriously because he understood them, and was almost as hurt as you were when someone said something hurtful about your body, even if you were the one saying it.

Something in his gaze shifted, becoming steely with determination. Immediately, he crawled forward until he’d successfully crowded you against the headboard, straddling your waist. Your breath hitched in your throat at his sultry gaze, your insecurities pushed to the backburner of your mind.

“You could never do that, baby,” he murmured, pressing hot kisses against your neck. “But if you want me on top tonight, I don’t mind. I’ll remind you how sexy you are, and we can try again tomorrow.”

Kim Taehyung

“I wish you didn’t have to pay for Weight Watchers, but I guess it’s like online dating?” you said idly into the phone, paying more attention to painting your toenails.

“What?” Taehyung asked over the line.

“You know,” you continued. You were applying your top coat. “If the person pays, you know they’re way more serious about the process.”

“Not that,” he snapped. “Are you thinking about joining Weight Watchers?”

“Well, yeah,” you replied, like it was obvious.

You weren’t usually this callous. In fact, it was only a mask to hide how sincerely upset you were. You didn’t have any illusions about your weight, but to have it pointed out by a complete stranger? Critical hit.

By nature, you weren’t really one to dwell, which meant that the next step was immediate action. But even you couldn’t ignore the pang in your chest every time you remembered it. God, you were too pathetic to even say anything! You should have given that barista a piece of your mind, instead of scuttling away with your tail between your legs.

“Baby, that shit’s a gimmick,” Taehyung said. “And you don’t need to lose weight.”

“It’s my body, Tae,” you reminded him.

“I know,” he stressed. “But I’m being serious. I’m coming over.”

You straightened in alarm, whining, “No, you need to rest!” You knew he’d had an exhausting day. And it would be much harder to fool him into thinking you were okay if he was here in person.

“Too late, I’m walking now,” he replied. “I need to remind my girlfriend how amazing and hot and sexy she is, and how desperately she doesn’t need to lose weight.”

Jeon Jungkook

Jungkook had come home early with takeout, but it had only served to spur an argument. You were already sensitive and a little defensive after what that barista had said, and when you’d refused to eat the calorie-heavy food, Jungkook had taken it the wrong way. When you’d tried to explain yourself, the fight only escalated.

“I was trying to be nice, and you’re making me feel guilty!” he said, not truthfully understanding why you were upset.

“It’s not about the takeout,” you replied. “I’m trying to lose weight and don’t need that food around tempting me!”

“I didn’t even know you were trying to lose weight,” he argued. “Which you don’t even need to do, by the way. You shouldn’t let what that lady said hurt you.”

“So, what?” you asked. “Are you saying I’m being too sensitive?”

“Of course not,” he defended. “Don’t take it that way.”

“You don’t get it,” you snapped at him, “because you’ve never been fat!”

He stared at you, frustrated and hurt until finally, he yanked you forward by the small of your back and kissed you.

He was rough for a moment before he was soft, and Jungkook tried to tell you with his mouth everything he couldn’t express properly with his words. He wanted you to know that you were beautiful and loved and shouldn’t have to worry about your weight, not with him.

“We should go to the bedroom,” he whispered against your mouth. “Or we could have sex on the counter?”

“The takeout—,” you tried to say.

“Fuck the takeout,” he interrupted. He pressed you against the counter, brushing his hips needily against your own. You squeaked, shocked by his sudden fervor.

“Ignore what I said before,” he begged, lips beginning to trail down your neck. “If you want to lose weight, I’ll help you—but let me show you right now how much I love and appreciate your body.”

[weeklyfangirl]

Frat Boy Pt. 17

https://weeklyfangirl.tumblr.com/post/188826127780/frat-boy-pt-18https://weeklyfangirl.tumblr.com/post/188826127780/frat-boy-pt-18part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13 , part 14, part 15, part 16

hi loves, s’been a while :) I’ve been working harder on the frat boy world than you know! 

I had the nightmare again. 

I woke up washed in relief that bodiless entities weren’t hanging over my head- but before the perturbed feeling completely vanished, it snapped back like a rubber band, stinging me harder. 

 The nightmare had gone further this time. 

 The gray crusting wallpaper was, at least, the same. There was a paper house, falling apart as it peeled, and me, trying to outrun the collapse and the ominous beings down its empty corridors. The Watchers, I’d decided to call them, came closer this time as if emboldened by my subconscious inability to dispel them. They’d survived my past dreams, growing stronger with it. And the all-encompassing dread that filled my body sprung each weighted step forward. 

 But before, I hadn’t known what I was running towards. 

 This time, my dream-self knew. There was someone beyond the wall whose animalistic cries weren’t just for anyone. They were for me. I needed to reach them. 

 I ran to the door, just barely ahead of the Watchers. It was barely open, a slight crack to a dark room - but still, it was open. I could kick it further and with a satisfying swoosh, I’d see what - or who - lay beyond it. I could reach them then. 

 It should’ve opened. 

 But it didn’t budge. 

 With impossible dream-logic, it was locked a stubborn two inches ajar. Hopelessly, I tried wedging my body through the opening. A dark shadow appeared at the end of the hall, drawing closer, closer. Slowly, though. It knew I had nowhere left to run. 

 My motions grew frantic, scraping myself against the door as I tried to jam my body further inside. The darkness expanded, trembled, delighted its prey was so easily trapped. 

 There was a flash of the knife from the shadows, the cries grew louder. But I couldn’t reach it, I couldn’t reach him. 

 Darkness stabbed me.

 I woke up drenched in my own sweat. 

 The ghost of the sliding metal lodging between my skin felt hot. My fingers trailed along the dry skin, just below my ribcage, almost certain I’d find a bleeding gouge. Typically, didn’t people wake up before feeling pain?

 --------------

 Dull thuds filled the room. I blurred my vision, imagining the swinging mass to be the thing of my twisted imagination. I socked the punching bag until I felt my fingers were going to fall off. Which was about two minutes. 

 “YOU’RE ALL DOING GREAT! ALMOST DONE GUYS, YOU’RE GETTING STRONGER... besides Y/N!” 

 It was true. My arms were weak noodles. It didn’t stop me from scowling when Renny jogged over in tip-top cheer captain shape. “Come on! Let’s go!! You were doing great!!!” 

 She’d harassed me into coming to the gym tonight screaming “if you don’t show up, I swear I’m going to drag you with me.” Nobody can say she wasn’t true to her word. She’d subbed in for the usual kickboxing teacher, and honestly, she was a natural. A true prodigy. Give a girl a pair of Lulu Lemons and a kickboxing class and she’d… kick its ass? 

 “It’s a free form of therapy eh?” she reasoned, squatting while she spoke. 

 I scowled deeper, hitting the bag weaker than before. 

 “I’m tired,” I managed to moan. So. Incredibly Tired. 

 “Okay I hate to do this, but…” She paused, making sure I’d hear whatever she’d say next. “Think of you-know-whose face.” 

 By sheer Dwayne-The-Rock-Johnson-level will power, I threw my weight against the bag. 

 “There you go!!!” she encouraged, jogging back to the front. 

 I did it once more, in good faith. But my efforts were short-lived and I stopped, breathless, as soon as she was distracted. A droplet of sweat ran down my cupid’s bow. I tasted salt. Anger. Frustration at how weak I was. How helpless I seemed to be. 

 Where was the legendary endorphin high I’ve been promised all these years???! I turned out to be a sweaty sasquatch of a human being, collapsing on the floor as Renny picked up the abandoned towels around me. 

 “You are so dead,” she chuckled. 

 I half-huffed, half-laughed, wholly aware that her statement wasn’t a complete stretch.  

 “So it worked, huh?” Renny asked, driving us out to the free parking lot across the street. Three cop cars whizzed by. No sirens. Non-emergency. 

 “What worked?” 

 “Picturing Harry’s face.” 

 “It wasn’t Harry’s face I was picturing.” 

 “Oh?” 

 She waved her hand to the car waiting to turn in front of us. “Hello? Let’s go fucker!!! Ugh, stupid bitch.” The car moved, begrudgingly, and Renny bee-lined it for the lot. Her tone turned from deadly to friendly in a flip of a switch. “Also, you know there’s a parking garage next to the gym, right?” 

 “Oh, really?” I feigned ignorance. I knew there was a parking garage next to the gym. I just couldn’t afford to pay.

 “Yeah.” We idled at the entrance, and I realized I hadn’t told her where my car is. “Wait, so who were you picturing if it wasn’t Harry?”

 “You know in my nightmares there’s this… dark figure?”

 Her face fell. “Oh my God, you’re still having those?” 

 No matter how much I considered Renny the sister I never had nor asked for, I couldn’t help but feel an odd distance. It was a distance that’d been building over the past weeks, and one that I’d been ignoring, but now, the task seemed impossible. I shrugged, not sure how to explain the unexplainable. I’d dizzied myself all morning trying to figure out what my dreams meant. But in the end, I was too tired. Too tired, too tired, too tired.

 “I’m telling you dude, you should seriously try therapy. I did it after my parents split. Best thing I ever did. It’s something that’s... ugh, it’s stigmatized you know? Therapy is healthy.” 

 “Just like hating yourself in the gym for two hours?” 

 “IT’S HEALTHY!” she shouted at me for the tenth time that evening. I cracked a smile so she knew I didn’t hate it completely. 

 A notification blipped on her phone. She smiled, typing a reply. “Want to hang out with me and Niall tonight?” 

 I half-smiled even though she wasn’t looking at me. 

 “I can’t, I have dinner.” 

 “Oh shit that’s tonight?” She looked up, brows raising. The clock on her dash said 6:48pm - I was definitely late. “Fuck dude, good luck. Tell me how it goes.”

 “I will,” I said. The bluetooth in her car suddenly screeched Timberlake’s “Sexy Back.” We jolted, hands covering our ears as she rushed to turn it down. Her phone glowed - incoming call from Niall - and she looked at me in question. I nodded.

 “Heyyyy boy,” she drawled. 

 His laughter on the other line made me smile. It was crackly through the speakers, somehow making it even more likeable. “Hey beautiful. Where you at?” 

 I got out absentmindedly, closing the door behind me. Her car idled, waiting as I pointed to my car just a stone’s throw away. Nodding, she suddenly laughed at something funny I couldn’t hear. 

 I dug for my keys and slid in the driver’s seat- but my hand paused on the ignition. What in the hell?? My dash was black. Completely black. 

 Did somebody throw a blanket?? Was there a homeless person who’d decided to rest their stuff atop my car? 

 I got out, completely confused, looking at my dashboard covered in a thick liquid. Paint?

 I smeared a finger through it, trembling, a familiar scent, a sick consistency running between my fingers. Knowledge fought against logic just as I caught the tail-end of Renny’s VW disappearing around the corner. 

 There were maybe four other cars in the otherwise deserted lot, dark houses lining the perimeter across the street. The world spun. Saliva bubbled up. Yellow fluorescent street lamps lit my surroundings, but the hue it cast was sinister. I was alone, they told me. Nobody else could see me. 

 Breathe.

 Breathe. 

 The nausea that ran through me at the sudden knowledge of what I’d touched made me convulse. 

 “STOP IT!” I cried, to whoever could hear. “JUST STOP IT RIGHT NOW, YOU FUCKS.” 

 I hurried into the car, locking the doors. My fingers were still wet as I ran the windshield wipers. They weren’t going fast enough. It spread, making it worse. Air vents blew metal. 

 I didn’t care. The tires squealed as I tore out, sticking my head out the window to see. My car swerved on the road as I involuntarily twitched. The blood was drying on my hands. I just needed to leave. We needed to leave. 

 My nightmares no longer lived in the confines of imagination.

 -----

 I called Renny first. It went to voicemail.

 A man exited the convenience store, eyeing me curiously as he went back in his truck. Renny texted -

 With Niall bb. Call you later 

 Fuck. 

 Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

 Fuck fuck FUCK.  

 I didn’t think when I dialled. I didn’t notice my hands were shaking until my phone knocked into my cheek. 

 The dial tone blared in the air. Voicemail. If I was going to die at least one person should know about it.

 I forgot to speak for a moment. “Oh, hi. Harry, uh… they found me. There’s b” - I covered my mouth. Bile rose in my throat. - “...there’s blood all over my car. I’m at the gas station off PCH and Harbor. But you didn’t answer so… never mind. I’ll be fine. I’m fine- fuck.”

 I hung up. The free windshield squeegee they had stationed at each gas pump was the only option. And their murky water were about to get a lot thicker. My dad used to do it all the time for my mom, just like my grandpa always got my grandma gas. Old school chivalry. Father would do it for me now. He’d take care of this. A part of me wanted to call him, but another part didn’t know how in the hell I would explain this. He was busy. Probably already eating with the rest of them or waiting for me. Oh, that’d be awkward. There wasn’t time. 

 I scrubbed with all my weight, pretending the blood wasn’t blood at all. It was thick paint. I just wouldn’t breathe. I wasn’t breathing.

 The squeegee smeared it to a dull red now, the stains lessened but still very much there. 

 My phone rang before I could try scrubbing the other side. 

 “Are you hurt?” the familiar gruff voice asked. Just hearing his voice slightly calmed the mania. 

 “Hi,” I whispered. Why was I whispering? How did I even begin to explain- “Fuck.” 

 Wow, I was eloquent.

 “Y/N, answer the question,” he rushed. 

 “I’m fine. I’m not hurt,” I stammered. “I’m fine.” 

 “Stay where you are.” 

 “I’m sorry, I tried calling Renny but she didn’t answer and now I’m late-”  

 “Just stay where you are. Keep to the lighted area. I’ll be there in ten.” 

 It was less than ten before the grumbling of a motorcycle grew louder, peeling around the corner. It slowed at the entrance, but its rider saw me and the engine roared, only stopping ‘til the sleek machine was propped next to my car. 

 He hopped off with ease, muttering something incomprehensible.

 “I can’t hear you,” I said. 

 He pulled off his helmet, irritated that it didn’t come off easier. Curls in disarray made the worry etched across his face all the more soft. Each time, I forgot how beautiful he was, and the sight of his tall body rushing towards me hit me straight in my unsettled gut. 

 “I’m sorry.” He pulled me in for a hug. “I’m so sorry.” 

 His body held me tight, an influx of Harry and warmth and protection embodied in the steadfastness of his grip covered every inch of me. If I wasn’t so shocked, I would’ve hugged him back.

 I breathed. For a second, the slow electric buzz spreading down my spine was all I could sense. “Y/N,” he breathed. For a second, I didn’t think about why he was holding me. Nothing else processed. 

 He held on a moment longer than I thought he would. His gaze passed me to the car. He was so tall in comparison to it, he didn’t even need to walk around to see the mess.  

 “Fuck.” His words echoed mine from earlier, and he ran a hand down his face. He shook his head, for once, speechless.

 “I’m okay,” I offered.

 He shook his head, backing up only a step. He took my buzz with it. “This isn’t okay, Y/N. I didn’t think they’d do this again.” But the last bit was spoken to himself. His eyes filled with something treacherous, a darkness I’d only caught fractions of before suddenly bore itself to me tenfold. The muscles beneath his black sweater tensed as everything about him tightened. 

 “Again?” I squeaked.

 “It’s pigs blood. An outdated scare tactic.” The obvious came out sharp between gritted teeth. 

 “Well it worked.” 

 His glare locked on me, and I tried not to flinch. He bat his eyes, lessening the sting, and I watched as he tried to return to the present. “You said you were going to be late.” He was trying his best to sound casual, but I heard the strain in his voice. He caught a glimpse of my car and I saw the darkness begin to return before he turned his back to me. 

 “I’m beyond late.”

 He walked to the motorcycle, and I watched as he swung his leg and kicked the stand up in one fluid motion. 

 “Hop on then,” he said, urging me forward with a toss of his head. I walked forward cautiously. 

 “But-”

 “I’ll move your car later tonight.”

 “-I don’t have a helmet.” 

 A ghost of a smile traced his lips. He handed me his helmet. “Don’t fall.” 

 We rolled down PCH, the harbor on one side, the hills on the other. Our coastal city looked different at night. More peaceful. The glitz and the glam more subdued, the orange hues of street lamps shining in a mirrored reflection of the deep blue waters surrounding us. Everything was more approachable and tranquil with everyone tucked away into their homes by 9 PM. 

 Which made it all the more unbelievable that I’d just abandoned my blood-stained car at a gas station.

 He stalled as we crossed the bridge over our beach town’s harbor, and I tugged his jacket to the right - the system we’d established of how I’d give directions. 

 Harry turned his head, the sharp planes of his face stunningly close with how tightly my arms were wrapped around him. Every so often, he’d let an arm fall to rest against mine, letting it warm my own and fastening it tighter around him before we took off again.

 I nodded. He turned. Cruising down Bay View Drive, we passed megamansions of all varieties - tropical Tommy Bahama gated villas with imported plants, Grecian marble fortresses with columns and underground garages. The steep hill to our left held the flower street homes atop them. I rested my head on Harry’s back, wondering what he must be thinking. The girl who always shuns me about money lives here? A nice neighborhood? She clearly doesn’t have the right- 

 He paused at a fork in the road. I tugged his jacket left and we reached the top of Petunia Park’s hill, the entrance to the flower streets. Just above Bay View Drive and the megamansions that were on the water, we were now surrounded by quaint $2 million two-story homes. He paused, the engine rumbling, gently quaking our bodies. 

 I lifted my helmet just enough. “I’m on Carnation.” 

 He remained still, looking out. From the hill, we could see the harbor and the peninsula creating its barrier from the ocean. The houses were twinkling safehouses against the abyss of black horizon. Our little seaside community. In another life, there weren’t as many lights. Traders and fishermen lived in simple homes with simple lives and returned from the sea to sit down at their modest table to have a simple meal and to be simply… happy. If I squinted, I could almost pretend this were something different. That we were in a different time. Time.

 “Harry, I’m late,” I said, as gently as I could. 

 His gaze tore, ripped from reverie. Without saying a word, he adjusted my hands tighter around his waist. Further up the street until there was no view of the ocean, smaller cottages were sprinkled in between the contemporary beach homes. I pulled his jacket hard and he stopped before an earthy gold Provence-inspired home - quaint blue shutters and balconies overlooked an impressive rose garden. 

 I hopped off, handing him his helmet. 

 “S’this it?” 

 “No.” Next door, I walked to the dark-shingled home half its size. I took a deep breath, salty air and dried grass hit my nose. The scent of my childhood. I smiled. “You don’t have to come in. Thank you so much for picking me up-” But when I turned around he was already walking past me, hand reaching back to tug me forward. 

 “Woah, Harry-” I dug in my heels.

 “I’m not inviting myself. Just let me walk you to the door.” 

 Voices drifted to us from the kitchen, the windows probably open. His black BMW was there in the driveway. It blended with the other cars on the street, but to me it looked strange. I’d never get used to it here. I looked to the boy whose black ensemble blended with the night, but whose tall stature made him rise above it.  

 “Okay,” I huffed, because the way Harry’s body was cemented to the ground, I knew that even if I’d said no, he'd walk with me anyway.

 Three knocks was all it took for chairs to scrape along the floor. 

 An excited “She’s here!!” came from beyond the door. 

 “Well thank God, I would’ve eaten the last steaks.” 

 My mom’s eyes brightened as soon as she opened the door - then confusion, then recognition to the boy stood beside me. 

 “You brought your friend.” Her smile grew warmer, opening up her arms. “It’s so nice to meet you.” 

 If the BMW in the driveway was a bizarre sight. This, this right here, topped it all. Harry dwarfed my mom, but he effortlessly leant down, letting her scoop him up. 

 Over his back she mouthed - Nice, then winked.

 “Where have you been? Dad tried calling a thousand times.

 “We were…”

 “At school,” Harry finished. “Her car wasn’t starting.” 

 I shot Harry a look, casually tucking a hair behind my ear. The less they knew the better. 

 “We can have dad look at the car- oh my Gosh, what’s all over your hands?” 

 I looked down - blood. Blood was literally on my hands. 

 “Paint,” I said, ignoring the nauseating fact that pig DNA was stuck beneath my nails.

 “I thought you dropped the art class-?”

 “-It’s a friend’s project.”

 “She’s alive?” a voice called. For once, he was saving instead of berating. As if suddenly realizing we hadn’t even made it through the door before her interview, she turned to Harry with a smile only a mother could give. “Would you like to come in, get some dinner too?” 

 “Oh…” Harry looked at me, almost bashful. “I don’t know,” he settled on. 

 He leant a bit to the side, crossing his arms, then stuffed them in his pockets. It was the only time I could say I’d seen Harry look… awkward. A selfish curiosity wanted to see what he’d look like in my kitchen, in my room, in other parts of my life I’d never thought I’d be sharing with him. He looked like a lost little boy. 

 He must be nervous. 

 “You should stay.” I placed a hand on his arm and he almost flinched at the contact. He looked confused. I couldn’t blame him. Originally I was telling him not to walk me to the door, now I’m saying meet the family! “Stay,” I repeated, softer this time. 

 His eyes searched mine, looking for any hesitance, any joke. He didn’t find any. “Okay,” he said, as if he couldn’t believe it himself.  

 My mom flipped around, hands in the air. “Yay, perfect! There’s two steaks, one’s a little smaller. Y/N, you can have that one...” She continued walking away, heading for the kitchen. 

 I waited for Harry to walk through the door, but he stuck out his hand. Me first. 

 If only he knew what he was walking into. 

part 18

[grimelords]

Hello I finished my July playlist a week ago but when I went to post it tumblr was down, and then I just plumb forgot! Anyway, here it is - properly sequenced this time for a very special listening experience that seamlessly delivers you from disco heaven to black metal hell and everything in between. Also I’m thinking of making these playlists a tinyletter that people can subscribe to that comes out on an actual schedule, rather than me posting them at a random time weeks after they’re finished. Is that something you’d be interested in? Who knows. Check back next month! Anyway, here goes:

listen here

Stay Away From Me - The Sylvers: You know when you’re listening to a song and the sample is super hot but the rest is just ok, so you think to yourself well why don’t I just listen to the original instead? That’s what happened to me with Final Form by Sampa The Great. That song is good but it’s also kind of not doing enough to convince me not to just listen to this super hit by The Sylvers instead. A fun thing with this song is to try to count how many instruments you can hear because it is surprisingly densely arranged for some reason. There’s a xylophone back there going off if you listen.

Sizzlin’ Hot - Paradise: The same thing happened with this song and Sizzlin’ by Daphni. I think they were going for an Armand Van Helden style distillation of the pure essence of the song, sampling the hookiest part and speeding it up and thickening up all the percussion and all that, which can work amazingly but for me it just made me want to hear the original and so I have been all month. What’s so good about being alive now is that in most cases it’s just as easy to access music from 2019 as it is to access music from 1981 where an original copy is apparently going for $1000 on discogs. Every day I thank god for inventing mp3s and putting them on the ark.

Manaos (Canzone) - Fabio Frizzi and Crossbow: I forget how I came across this, I was going through random Fabio Frizzi soundtracks for some reason. I just love the concept of a disco song about escaping from vicious assailants. Funkily singing ‘God help us, if they catch us we all are gonna die.’ as spears fly past you.

Holding On - Julio Bashmore: I think this is one of my favourite pieces of sampling ever. The way the vocals in the background are cut they don’t even sound like vocals. They just a strange contextless textural sound that works so well before eventually revealing itself as vocals in the run before the drop. It’s just so good.

Weight Watchers - Parallel Dance Ensemble: First of all I love this disgusting bass sound. It sounds like two different indistinct bass lines playing at the same time and they both drowned. I’m also mounting a change.org petition to bring back this kind of extremely naff Tone Loc flow, it rocks.

Dance - ESG: I found this incredible band while I was looking for the rapper ESG and I’m so glad I did. Their song UFO is one of those songs that’s been sampled so many times you think of it as more of a sound effect than a song, like it comes preloaded on a drum machine everyone has or something, but it’s also a good template for ESG’s sound. Every ESG song I’ve heard so far goes like this: a straightforward beat that doesn’t change for the whole song, a functional bassline that doesn’t change for the whole song, and good old fashioned simple lyrics about dancing and having a good time that sound more like schoolyard clapping games than anything. It doesn’t sound like much but over the course of an album it adds up to this incredible sort of hypnotic post-punk funk that I cannot get enough of. It sounds like kids who have 1 idea making a whole album out of it because that’s exactly what it is and it’s great!

Crave You - Flight Facilities: I love how elementally simple this song is. The vocals are hypnotising enough so everything else just quietly supports it. The only part that stands out is the thick bass synth halfway through which makes the short sax solo at the and all the sweeter, a tiny little cherry on top.

You - Delta 5: Get a load of this band bio: “Initially inspired by the success of local heroes The Mekons and Gang Of Four, Leeds, England’s Delta 5 later emerged as one of the key figures of the feminist new wave. Formed in 1979 by vocalist/guitarist Julz Sale, fretless bassist Ros Allen and bassist Bethan Peters.” Just going to gloss over them having TWO bass players before they even have a drummer?? Absolutely amazing. I love this song because it’s such a specific, targeted fury. Imagine being the loser at your girlfriend’s gig when she launched into this one for the first time. ‘who’s got homebrew with lots of sediment?’ oh fuck that’s me ‘who took me to the Windham for a big night out?’ oh fuck that’s me ‘I found out about you’ oh FUCK

Siren - Gong Gong Gong: I love the way the bass works in this, just looping and layering different variations of this noisy, stationary riff on top of itself - steadfastly staying in the exact same place the whole song and growing in power the whole time as it sits in its stubbornness.

Changes - Antonio Williams and Kerry McCoy: This came up on my Discover Weekly and I completely fell in love with it, then I realised it’s Antwan and Kerry McCoy from Deafheaven which is extremely intriguing collaboration and fell in love even more. The vocals are so good. The pure broken-hearted anguish, and the super blunt delivery that progresses to straight up yelling by the end of it combined with the Radio Dept type instrumentation is just so powerful. This feels like it’s a song that could really be a life-changing piece of catharsis for everyone in a 5k radius done live.

Fuck A War - Geto Boys: Absolutely in love with the conceit of this song: rapping a whole song down the line to the army drafter. The incredible part being of course that Bushwick Bill would be able to dodge any draft easily, being as he was both a dwarf and blind in one eye.

God Make Me Funky - The Headhunters: I found a lot of great songs going through the samples list for We Can’t Be Stopped by Geto Boys and this is one of them. I have so much love for any song that takes its time like this: nearly two minutes to set the scene and somehow taking deadly seriously the very funny lyrical idea of desperately praying to god to PLEASE make you funky.  The way this song escalates is also amazing, moving from a hot groove that sits in place to a full-on saxophone meltdown that feels like god placing his finger on your forehead and saying ‘so you want to be funky, do you?’ in a scary voice.

Use Me - Bill Withers: Fortunately and unfortunately, because of how this song was in Anchorman and because I’ve seen Anchorman one million times I can’t listen to it without hearing the noise Ron Burgundy makes when he sees Veronica in the first few seconds. Anyway, this song is so horny. The part where he has to explain to his bro how good this shit is? Doing all kinds of weird dom shit like ‘getting him in a crowd of high class people and then acting real rude to him?’ Weird. And the escalation into the claps at BABY! is amazing, he’s just going off powered by horniness and god bless him for it.

America! I’m For The Birds - Nicolas Jaar: Unbelievably, the deluxe edition of Sirens is possibly superior to the original. It’s a whole new tracklist, new songs interspersed throughout rather than the usual ‘three new songs at the end’ and it really gives it a whole new feel. This song is my favourite of the new ones and it’s a song I had in my head for a solid week. A perfect song to sing to yourself because the lyrics are so indistinct that you just end up mumbling pleasantly exactly like he is.

Cable Guy - Tierra Whack: I’m finally catching up on Tierra Whack and everyone’s right: she rocks. The sheer restraint in these songs is amazing, they just get in and out with only the good parts and no bullshit. It reminds me a lot of To The Innocent by Thingy which is one of my favourite albums for the same reason - the economy of the songwriting just serves to amplify the feeling of it. They both have this total irreverence in the lyricism where the songs are kind of about nothing but they’re so short and heartfelt that you dig for the feeling underneath it.

No Drug Like Me - Carly Rae Jepsen: I’ve previously written that what I love the most about the Carly Rae Jepsen is how horny it is and I’d like to double down on that sentiment here. I love how slow this song is, it’s the perfect tempo between danceable and ‘fucking’.

Con Calma (Remix) - Daddy Yankee, Katy Perry and Snow: I’ve been on a european holiday for most of this month and I would like to report that across Spain, Portugal, Czech Republic, France and Germany this is the absolute song of the summer. It is completely inescapable and personally I can’t get enough. Informer is one of the greatest and strangest one hit wonders of all time (it’s also canada’s highest selling reggae song of all time and Snow is thusly named because he’s white) and I’m psyched to hear it reworked by Daddy Yankee like this. Katy Perry being on the crossover attempt remix isn’t a good sign for her new album but she kills it so maybe that’s all that matters.

Chase The Devil - Max Romeo and The Upsetters: Here’s the other half of my short lived dub phase from the end of last month. This is a good example also of how completely beguiling lyrics can still be so effective. I have no idea what he means by putting on an iron shirt but it rhymes and he’s saying it with conviction so I’m nodding!

Glass - Bat For Lashes: The new Bat For Lashes songs have got me revisiting Two Suns which is an all time great five star album and this is my favourite song from it. Maybe the most powerful opening track of all time, it does as much worldbuilding as most fantasy novels do in 1000 pages. In fact almost every line in this is a viable fantasy novel title. A Thousand Crystal Towers. The Hand Of The Watchmen. A Knight In Crystal Armour. A Cape Of Rainbow. The way she sings ‘to be made of glass’ is.. incredible. I love Natasha Khan and I cannot wait to see what she does next.

Unsquare Dance - Paddy Milner: In searching spotify for other interpretations of Unsquare Dance after getting obsessed with it last month I came across this absolutely bonkers version. It’s maniacal, it feels like you would be physically and mentally drained by the end playing it because I am just listening to it. Need a little lie down.

Gimme Some Skin, My Friend - The Andrews Sisters: My girlfriend has turned me onto The Andrews Sisters lesser known hits recently and this is the best one: a song from when high fives were a novelty that those wacky blacks over in Harlem town were inventing. Extremely odd but an undeniable banger. The thing about The Andrews Sisters is one of them was an absolute force of nature as a performer and the other two were complete wet blankets and it’s kind of funny they were together as a group for their whole career because anyone with eyes can see where the real star is. The way she sings ‘baby’ at 1:25, and that whole run really, is absolutely amazing and so much better than this extremely dumb song deserves.

Kids On The Run - The Tallest Man On Earth: The piano sound alone in this is just so beautiful. This song could be about anything at all and it would still make me cry, and luckily for me: it basically is!

King Of Spain - The Tallest Man On Earth: Good song I had in my head the whole time I was in Spain. It’s incredible that his voice is so good. It feels like if it was even the tiniest bit different, slightly rougher or tinnier he would be completely hilariously unlistenable but instead he’s amazing. Plus the fact that he leans into it with the purposefully lo-fi trebly production is just so confident you can’t help but love it.

Romeo And Juliet - The Indigo Girls: A great cover I wasn’t aware of before that I heard in this great documentary Wildwood I was watching https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rOWxnh012J0. The way she absolutely flies off the handle and nearly tears the song down around her near the last chorus is pure power and I love people who can do that in an acoustic song without it feeling overblown, just getting totally swept up in it and taking everyone along with you.

On The Bus Mall - The Decemberists: Definitely the number one song about gay teenage prostitutes who love each other and are optimistic against the odds.  

White Fire - Angel Olsen: This song feels like a piece of dark magic. It feels like a 4am moment of clarity, speaking everything true in a five minute monotone and then instantly falling back to sleep with only a dim memory in the morning.  

Glass Eyes -JW Ridley: JW Ridley is a genius and I cannot wait to see what he does with an album. Every song he puts out seems to be better than his last. The central melody in this is just beautiful, and the whole thing has so much space in it it feels so much longer than 3 minutes. It’s like a song you can live in.

Nullarbor - Floodlights: I love how rough this song is, and driving across australia because you’ve got nothing else going on and want to rattle your own cage is a Huge mood.

Made Too Pretty (Audiotree Live Version) - As Cities Burn: I’m so glad As Cities Burn are back, because it means they get to do good shit like this Audiotree session where they absolutely killed it.

Dirty Hearts - Dallas Crane: I think I’ve put this on a playlist before for exactly the same reason: it’s a song I wake up with in my head fairly often for some reason and it’s a very fun slice of pub rock that doesn’t overstay it’s welcome.

Ruin This Smile - The Number 12 Looks Like You: Did you know The Number 12 Looks Like You have reformed after 10 years away and haven’t missed a step at all?? I’m salivating. This song is as good as anything they’ve put out before, and feels like it fits somewhere between Mongrel and Worse Than Alone which is fantastic news for me who always loved those a lot more than their earlier more explicitly grindcore stuff.

Nutrient Painting - Yellow Eyes: A special thanks to my friend and yours Powerburial for linking this song on his twitter. There’s something about the guitars in this song, in almost every riff, where it sounds like they’re playing backwards somehow. Like the structure of the melodies is backwards. It doesn’t make sense but that’s what it sounds like to me and it’s very disconcerting.

Jejune Stars - Bright Eyes: I think this an underrated Conor Oberst era, when he became a sort of buddhist for a while and wasn’t sad anymore but just observed earth from outer space instead. I also love the instrumentation of this song, Bright Eyes and blast beats a match made in heaven. Also the strange sample about pom’granite at the end is one of my favourite things ever. A very strange album to retire the Bright Eyes name on but a very good one too.

At The Bar - Dirty Three: When I was overseas I was thinking about cultural music, and Australia’s place in the world and things like that. I ended up thinking about Dirty Three who I think along with The Drones make the most distinctly Australian sounding music to me. Just the vastness they manage to conjure from such straightforward barebones instrumentation is incredible.

listen here

[requiem-wra]

Conscience

One of the dawn’s newest recruits tries to put his head straight and winds up talking to the past. 

CW: Hallucinations or ghosts, vague references to self-destructive tendencies, antagonistic friendship

Whatever D’lta’s projections, when it came down to it, he shook the eyes of his watchers easily. The surviving Pandaren villagers do their unwitting part to distract the Dawn, and he steps into the shadows and up. Not that his companions in arms seemed too interested in keeping track. He doesn’t think Basteala and Barnabas have let the majority of them in on his dirty laundry yet, though he still hasn’t determined why. Are they trying to limit the possibility Stormwind might find out they’re harboring a deserter, or do they mean to give him a fair chance? Jury’s still out on that one. He doesn’t know them well enough yet to be able to tell.

He lets his knees bend, bare wrists resting against them as he perches on the temple eaves. His gaze catches on the way skin seared by void magic shines dully in the moonlight. Looks a lot better than it felt when the rays of darkness plowed right through him. He thinks maybe he’s got the tall Draenei to thank for that, but the remainder still stings. A pile of bandages sits pooled over his lap, waiting for him to get his shit together and finish wrapping the minor wounds. He’ll get to it eventually. Just needs his head to stop racing first.  

“Th’ fuck am I doing here?” He mumbles to himself, words jumbled in an exhale. Sure, they’ve got blackmail on him. Sure, they’ll alert Rena to his position if they make a fuss about his whereabouts, and yeah things would get a whole lot easier if he could get one of his names cleared, but…

But they’re a goddamn mess. Commanders running suicide marches as atonement, almost no tactics to speak of, low battlefield cohesion and a whole lot of people who fancy themselves heroes running at wild odds head first with their eyes to the ground—they’re a disaster zone waiting to happen and suddenly he understands how Raelenin fits right in. He doesn’t know why he stuck around after he left the damn boat. He should have turned right around the minute someone mentioned void tears in the Jade Forest and the whole thing be damned, but...

“You going back to your marsh, golden boy?” He hears that long-gone voice tease, and doesn’t turn to look. Bad enough to hallucinate his voice without the image to back it up—too many memories and his head already hurts enough.

“Nah,” he grouches back, “I’ve got too much to do.”

“Hmm…. and you’re still sticking around this place?” The hallucination settles in his awareness, kneeling on the eaves to rest at his side. “I’d have thought you’d leave before next sunrise. There’s nothing they can really offer you, is there?”

“Yeah, well…” He waives a hand through the air. His voice rings out to no one, and he knows it. He rants to a ghost only he can hear, but there’s no one else up here to see him now. He might as well. “Maybe that’s it. Maybe it’s not just about me.” However scrambled the Dawn might have shown itself, the Pandaren civilians don’t deserve to face the void alone. Maybe he just doesn’t want to be complicit in leaving them to a terrible fate.

His apparition fakes a gasp. He feels the memory of those hands pushing playfully against his shoulder.

“Aurelian Mistfury recognizes there’s something bigger than himself!? Truly we have reached the end of days.”

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, asshole. My conscience might be more recent than yours, but it’s been stringing me along since you died. Not my fault you’ve missed out on all that.”

A beat of blessed silence follows. He tears his gaze away from damaged skin and presses his fingers to his eyes instead. The exhaustion must finally have caught up with him, to ring that damn voice so clearly through his head. “Not my fault either.” The illusion adds, quiet beneath the rushing in his ears.

He starts to wonder then… whether that voice only exists in his head, or whether Elune’s light has drawn something real of his squadmate from the afterlife to speak. He’s hallucinated before, but those phantoms never sound so—

His hands don’t shake as he lets them fall back down to his knees. He’s worked too hard to control himself for that, but Elune above do they want to. His head turns slowly, eyes widening as his gaze catches the hazy form of a shadow on the roof beside him.

“Quinn, if that’s really you and not just—” “Come on, dumbass. You know that’s not how this works.” He doesn’t know—never managed to figure out—how a man can sound so derisive and so damn fond at the same time. He doesn’t think his daydreams ever captured the effect so well… He has to swallow before he can speak again. His throat fights the motion, dry as the desert.

“I don’t know that, actually. Are there rules to being a ghost and or figment of my imagination?” The formless shadow of what might be a remnant of his friend, might not, just laughs. As he watches, shadowy substance fades and re-solidifies like a heartbeat. Golden eyes flick back to his knees. If this is a daydream, it’s a fucked up one, and if not—

Well. maybe he doesn’t want to see Quinn go.

“More rules than you’d ever follow.” He doesn’t actually feel the gentle smack on the back of his head, but he knows where it would have happened—a ghost of sensation that has his heart racing and his hair standing on end.

If this is real, and not some trick of the void and moonlight…

“There were a lot of things I never got to say to you.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to tell me later, golden boy. Not much left now though. Don’t get distracted.”

“Right, sorry.” His voice doesn’t waver, but something sharp scrapes up against his ribs when he exhales, buried feelings jagged enough to slice him up inside. “Please continue with your much more urgent message.”

“Did you already forget why you came up here? Didn’t realize your hard head was empty too.” He hates the nostalgia that threatens to choke him as much as he can’t stop the smile that forces its way onto his face.

“Asshole. Alright. Fine. Great and wise imaginary friend, what do you think? Would you split and leave these sanctimonius do-gooders to themselves as I plot ecoterrorism against the forces of the void?” He expects Quinn to say something about obligation or duty, or the need to protect those people in the Dawn who just want to do good in the world. He doesn’t expect—

“Take them up on their offer. Take them seriously, and get your stupid name cleared. You can do what you want after that.”

He blinks. He can’t help looking Quinn’s way, hair swinging in its braid with the speed at which he turns.

“The hell…? Not gonna lecture me about being in it for others?” Somehow, he gets the impression of familiar concern from that formless face.

“’Lian, you keep trying to do things the way I would want. You ever think maybe what I want is for you to do something that makes you happy?” Shadow pulses, fades pulses…. And blinks out. The sharp-edged knot in his chest digs deeper. He releases a wet exhale to the night sky, fingers clenching around the twisted mess of bandages in his lap.

Fucking hallucinations.

He should tear off this roof and run. He should leave this offer in the dust. He should—he should—

He should sit here and wrap his damn arm, and he should wait for the self-sacrificial commander to march back through the gate. And if the commander comes back mind-controlled he should get help. And when his self-imposed shift ends, he’ll haul off and find a hole to collapse into and sleep before he asks the boss lady for more orders.

He never had been good at denying Quinn anything.

“I’m doin’ it, but it’s not gonna make me happy, asshole!” He shouts to the moon, because Elune’s the best proxy he can think of to reach his dumbass squadmate. He feels the weight of someone’s gaze and looks down to find a temple initiate staring up. “Ah, sorry—" He calls down, waving with a grin until the confused initiate moves along.

Great. Now the Dawnsmen will think he’s mad AND a vicious murdering thief.

He smooths the bandages over his lap, finds an edge to start wrapping with and wonders whether the assumption doesn’t fit.

[jj-lynn21]

The Charity- various fandoms & x-reader ch 8

Warnings: mystery, angst, dash of smut, The end

ch 1

ch 2

ch 3

ch 4

ch 5

ch 6

ch 7

 kit-ala-kat  super-pink-a-palouza 

Catching your breath, you look to Scarlett. She looks to you and smiles. You point to the watchers at the door.

Scarlett say, “I know baby girl. Your man looks like he is upset. We should get them over here to comfort them”

You both sit up sheet snug around your breasts under you arms. As you extend your hand you do notice Bills eyes are red like he has been crying.

You say, “Come here baby boy. Join me for some comfort and tell me why those beautiful green eyes look so sad.”

All Scarlett needs do is extend a hand and Colin is stripping off his cloths to join her. Its pretty funny how quickly he is trying to get things off to go to her tripping over his own shoe he threw in front of him and lands on his knees practically crawling to her on his hand and knees.

Bill is slower as he places his shoes by the wall and tosses his cloths on a near by chair. He goes to you taking your hand as he slides between the sheets. His eyes are watery with tears as he looks at you.

You say, “What’s wrong sweet boy? You still couldn’t find the others?”

Bill says, “More than that Princess. Gustaf and I only found Colin, my Dad and Valter. They are sticking together downstairs. I, we were coming to get the two of you to join who is left of our friends and family. Princess, Alex is gone. My Dad is drinking himself into oblivion over it. My brothers are practically in mourning. You don’t think, I mean we will find them, won’t we?”

Running your hand over his cheek through his hair you say, “Sure let’s go find them all right now.”

You and Bill get up. Seeing as Scarlett and Collin seem to be starting something you don’t want to stop you say nothing as you go see if your dress is wearable. Bill grabs his cloths following you into the bathroom like a puppy. You get your bra and panties on. Then you hold up your dress crinkling your face in disgust.

Handing you the t-shirt he had on under his dress shirt he says, “It got a little sweaty but its cleaner than your dress. Plus, I think it will be long enough on you to be a short dress.”

When you put it on it comes right below your ass cheeks. A bit shorter than most dresses you have worn, but it will do even though your panties and matching bra show under the white material.

Bill says, “Yeah, that looks perfect on you.”

Trying to pull it down a little more you say, “It’s a little short. But I guess it will do.”

He gets dressed and you both head out. You plan on saying something to Scarlett and Collin before leave to go downstairs, but the room is empty. The sheet is gone off the bed, so you and Bill walk out to the balcony to see if they went out there for some air. There is no sign of them. You and Bill look at each other freaked out.

Together you say, “What the fuck?”

Panicky Bill says, “Fuck, the rest of my family.”

He starts to run downstairs. You run after him barely keeping up. As you get to the bar Bill stands there devastated not to see Stellan, Gustaf or Valter.

Screaming Bill says, “This is fucking ridiculous. What the fuck is this place? I’m going to kill the fucker that took my family. You know I’m going to fucking kill them when I find them.”

He starts tearing through the house overturning furniture and turning over tables as he searches. A door opens when he tries to pull all the books off a shelf. You are in shock as you try to follow him on his rampage. You see him go through the door, but it shuts right behind him. You franticly search for a way to open it again.

You pound on the wall screaming for everyone, “BILL, TOM, SCARLETT, ALEX, TOM, ELLEN, CODY, STELLAN, GUSTAF, VALTER, CHRIS, CHRIS, COLIN, ROBERT WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU! THIS ISN’T FUNNY! THIS IS THE WORST FUCKING HOLLYWOOD PARTY I HAVE EVER BEEN TO!”

You grab the few books left on the shelve Bill had just tried to empty and you pull. They move forward but not off the shelf as the door you saw Bill go through opens. Crying, make up smeared you venture into the opening hoping to find everyone there. You think its unlikely you do since it seems this place is full of hidden passages. You wipe the tears from your eyes as you walk through the dimly lit hall.

You scream out for everyone again hoping at least one of them will appear, “BILL, TOM, SCARLETT, ALEX, TOM, ELLEN, CODY, STELLAN, GUSTAF, VALTER, CHRIS, CHRIS, COLIN, ROBERT!”

The hallway ends at another door. It opens when you push on it with all your weight. It leads outside. You walk out taking a breath of fresh air as the sun rises. You feel broken down, exhausted as you hear an alarm go off in the house. You see all the lights turn on, so you run toward the front door to go back inside. As you get to the center of the room balloons fall from the ceiling.

Stepping into the balloon filled room Vernon says, “You made it darling. You were the last one here at dawn.” He hugs you as through he has none you forever. You push him away.”

You say, “What the fuck. Who are you Vernon?”

Vernon smiles, “I’m just a small part of this game. You and all the others that were here with you are the real stars.”

You say, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Laughing he says, “That language and everything everyone did here tonight will entertain thousands or maybe even millions if we get the numbers to watch my boss thinks we will. People will pay for this kind of entertainment.”

Screaming you say, “This isn’t entertainment. We are all people here. Where are my friends?”

Vernon says, “Everyone can come in here now.”

Bill comes out first run over to throw his arms around you to try to comfort you. Tom comes out next and hugs you from the other side. Then everyone else joins in the love fest.”

Vernon says, “What a precious moment. Everyone’s charity will be getting the money promised if you all keep quiet about this night until after the show airs in a month. In that time, we will be secluding you from the public eye on a tropical island with everything you could ever need. No one can be seen in public until it is revealed you are all alright. Your extended families will be told you are working on a secret project. We want the audience to think this was real like all of you did. Your reactions were perfect. We didn’t expect all the hook ups, but that was a great bonus fans will love.”

Stellan says, “Our lives are not some reality show. I don’t tolerate people upsetting my family. You will have a huge lawsuit on your hands.”

Vernon says, “I don’t think so Stellan. When you all agreed to come here you were under contract. Its all legal. Now if you choose to leave you can and we can work around you somehow with some editing magic, but your charity gets nothing so all this emotion and maybe fear for some of you will be because of nothing. Do you really want this experience to be about nothing?”

Bill says, “Who ever came up with this is a sick fuck. But I don’t want to have wasted my time. I’m in.”

The rest of the Skarsgard’s agree wasting time is the worst thing in the world with this night being a close second.

Robert says, “I didn’t do anything embarrassing so I’m in. How about the rest of you?”

Everyone grumbles but, in the end, decide their charity is more important than a little embarrassment. Besides, how much of this could they really show. Everyone looks to you to see what you will decide.

Veron says, “What about you Princess. This could be really good for your acting career if you choose to pursue it more seriously after this. I bet your charity could really use the money.”

Do you decide your charity needs money and go stay with these people on an Island for a month to try to forget about the trauma or do you walk away from everything and possible everyone here? 

If you want to go to THE ISLAND CLICK