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astaroth1357 · 4 years ago

Note

Oh! How about the brothers with a very emotionally open MC? Like, they ain't ashamed to cry or express their emotions because they think that it's healthy to speak about your emotions to others! And they're also really good at telling what people are really feeling. Please and thank you very much! And congrats on 1,500 followers! You deserve it!

The Demon Brothers Reaction to a Very Emotionally Intelligent MC

Let’s be honest, in a game centered around resolving interpersonal family drama, this is kind of what the MC has to be canonically. Also um… I made the decision, for whatever reason, to listen to the Grand Escape by Radwimps while writing this, and uh, it got… deeper than intended. Whoopsie. 😅 I guess that's the hazard when you're so dependent on what you hear to set the tone for what you write… Sometimes you make a questionable decision and you mess up at the foundations 😕 My bad.

BIG, BIG Spoilers for Part One (Lessons 1-20)

Lucifer

To be honest, he took it as a sign of weakness for some time.

Lucifer closes his emotions off to others because he views them as a vulnerability... This is why he wasn't completely surprised that the powerless human they brought to the Devildom was, in his eyes, overly emotional.

They were never afraid to say what they felt, show sadness to others, or even admit their fears… Though he appreciated the honesty, he wrote it off as a sign of human fragility and assumed they wouldn't last long. Not unless they toughened up and started to shut themselves off like him...

But that never happened. And one by one, he watched his brothers get won over by that feeble, emotional mess… He didn't understand it nor did he like it. At one point he even swore to himself that he wouldn't let whatever spell they casted on the others affect him too.

At least, until the attic incident came to light and he finally realized that the human wasn't a mess at all.

When Belphegor escaped and the bombshell that he had been holding finally came to light, he honestly felt lost for the first time in centuries… He didn’t know how to approach the topic, he just wanted to hide away and let it all sort itself out… but they wouldn't let him.

It amazed him how easy it was for the MC to empathize with his brothers and even himself through the whole mess. It was like they knew how everyone felt before they even had to voice it… He loathed to admit it, but for that moment they looked even more composed and capable than he did…

It was their handling of Belphie that really sealed it for him, though. A weak, pathetic, powerless little human talking down a being far beyond their capacity to fight? Then still offering him some comfort in the aftermath? He couldn’t have pulled that off... He’s long since forgotten how.

The MC managed to open his eyes to what emotional strength looked like and, from that point on, he never doubted them again.

Mammon

Mammon's go-to approach to feelings is unconvincing denial and his brothers generally aren't much better... So actually being open and straightforward with one’s feelings is almost a foreign concept to him.

So when the MC got dropped into his life it threw him through a loop. They were willing to just… say what they felt whenever? They’d cry when they needed to, laugh whenever they wanted, and generally tell people how they felt about things openly and honestly? What?

Weren’t they scared of being teased or made fun of? You can’t be that open down in Hell! Demons would take advantage of you!

And yet, the longer he spent with them the more he started to kind of get it… And then he started to genuinely love it.

They didn’t mind when he’d bawl at movies or talked about when his brothers were bothering him… Sometimes he didn’t even need to say anything to them. They’d just see something was off in how he was acting and offer a hug... No questions asked. No shame involved.

It was refreshing. Eye-opening. Hell, even comforting to just be himself for them. Sure, he still had to keep up appearances in front of his brothers to keep from being mocked, but when they were alone? He truly could act however he felt like for the first time in a very, very long time... And he treasured that.

Leviathan

Emotions are… a thing for Levi and not a thing he's that well equipped to deal with either…

So of course, he initially felt envious of the MC when they came down to the Devildom. They had no problem with navigating their feelings. They didn’t mind talking about them or crying or admitting when they were nervous and even worse? They could actually handle it all.

Levi doesn’t tend to make his emotions very secretive either, but when he got into a mood he usually couldn’t dig himself out of it... It doesn’t help that his brothers were so used to his complaining that they’d ignore his self-deprecation rather waste their time contradicting him...

When he first saw them in action, though, he had walked in on them crying, but they didn’t tell him to leave or try to hide their face. They just let him say what he needed to while they let the tears run their course... then explained to him what the problem was later. They weren’t ashamed… Hell, they even looked like they felt better to have it off their chest…

How come he never felt any better after he had his episodes...? Why did he still feel like a worthless piece of shit all the time?? What kind of cheat code did they use for that?! It’s not fair!

Little did he know, talking feelings out to yourself (or your goldfish) is one thing. But talking to someone who actually wants to help is another thing entirely.

The first time he went on one of his rants, the MC just watched him quietly. It was like he was tearing down a house meant for demolition...and then they started picking through the pieces. They didn’t try to shame him hating himself, they just started pulling out things he should love instead. Stuff he never even considered before…

After that point, they became very good at noticing when he was going to a dark place and intervening before he could beat himself down again... After a while, he started leaving his room when he felt that way so he could go find them and talk.

If his mind was an ocean then, for the first time ever, he finally felt like he had a way to weather the storms...

Satan

Didn't trust it, didn't trust them, and thought it was all an act for the longest time...

Satan knows a thing or two about putting up a front, so he's the most skeptical of other people's intentions…

When he first met them and saw open they were with their emotions, he thought it was all some kind of act. Like they were just trying to gain sympathy or lure everyone in so they could manipulate them later… But he wasn't buying it.

While he watched the rest of his brothers fall to their charms, he counted himself lucky as the smart one. He thought he could see the game they were playing and he wouldn't let himself be tricked into it...

… But then the whole book fiasco happened and he found himself around the human more often. Not only did their openness really seem genuine, they actually listened patiently to his complaints about Lucifer, his birth, his rank, his rage... everything. Just nodding along and watching him intently…

After a while, he started to question if they were even listening anymore so he questioned them. Point blank. He wanted to know what they thought and… their answer surprised him.

“I think you want to be your own person.”

To him, that answer came right out of left field. What about any of what he was just saying had to do with his identity??

But the more he thought about it, the more he realized it had everything to do with it. And they deduced it so quickly from just a few conversations… He was impressed (and somewhat terrified) to have been read so easily...

For a while, he just had to study them. He wanted to know more about what kind of skills they used to understand him so effortlessly...

Though he never quite got a clear answer out of them, he found that he could respect their talent regardless and, just this once, let himself trust someone else wholeheartedly...

Asmodeus

If you're looking for a demon in touch with the emotions, then you don't have to look much further than Asmo. But even he can have blinders on sometimes…

When he met the MC, he actually liked how open they were about their feelings. He even shared their sentiments so he wasn’t bothered at all.

But when he bunked with them and Simeon in the Demon Lord's Castle, he got to see a different side of them…

After Simeon dressed him down about his narcissism, Asmo did his best to just gaslight the whole thing and put it behind him. … But the MC was watching.

Something must have tipped them off. Maybe a glance at the floor or look in his eye... Maybe just how utterly incapable he was to acknowledge Simeon's words… but they noticed that it bothered him.

"Don't let it get to you... I think you're doing great down here."

"Well of course I am, sweetie. Why wouldn't I be?"

Their reassuring words puzzled him at first... How was he supposed to take them? Were they pitying him? If he were Lucifer, he'd have half a mind to obliterate them for that alone...

But they didn't seem like the type… Asmo could read people just as well as they could, he knew sincerity when he saw it. Were they just trying to help…?

He kept that thought to himself throughout their time together in the Castle. Good heart or not, he didn't want to make getting a pact easy for them. He’d never bow to just anyone.

But after they proved their worth, it all started to click for him. This human was trying to reach out to him when they thought he was hurting… They didn't just write him off as shallow and self-absorbed. They were concerned for his feelings even when he wouldn't acknowledge them…

Asmo hung extra close to the human after that. He found someone willing to look beyond the image he worked so hard to keep up... Even if he didn't need their help quite like his brothers, he could see their effort and loved them even more for it.

Beelzebub

Beel is a straightforward guy who can appreciate straightforward people so he and the MC got along pretty well from the start.

He liked that he didn’t have to read between the lines with them. If they were upset, they’d tell him. If they needed to vent, they’d warn him. If they were happy and having a good time, they didn’t feel the need to hide it. It made life so much easier for him…

Of course, he couldn’t actually tell how good they were with emotions until he started opening up about Belphie, Lilith, and everything that went down before they all became demons…

He was kind of amazed how easy it was to speak to them, even during the painful parts... They never pushed him too much or pried for answers he wasn’t comfortable giving, nor did they make him feel bad for what happened to Lilith or missing his brother...

Honestly, they always seemed to know just how he felt about every new detail he told them. When he finally came clean about his guilt over the whole thing, they didn’t look shocked or surprised… If anything they looked just as pained as he did to have received the confirmation…

He found it oddly comforting to speak to them about pretty much anything after that. He knew that they’d listen and understand no matter what he put in front of them, and after they helped Belphie…? He’d happily love and trust them for the rest of his days...

Belphegor

"It wasn't your fault."

Those four words still ring in Belphie's ears from time to time… An echoing reminder of sorts…

He spent so long wrapped up in his own guilt, unable to talk about it to his brothers, that it turned him bitter and angry… He felt like he was the reason they were all in this mess to start with and that everybody else knew it too…

But hey, he'd say, at least down here there wouldn't be any humans around to ruin things. No humans there to steal away his family like before...

Which is why he snapped when Diavolo said they were introducing humans to the Devildom. How else was he supposed to react? They were just tempting fate for another disaster! Hadn't they learned anything at all??

While he was locked in the attic and the human came to his aid, he honestly took joy in deceiving them...

...At least at first. But on repeat visits, he started to feel his resolve slip.

They listened to him. They seemed genuinely interested in helping him and invested in his family's struggles... They looked like they cared for his brothers and even made efforts to reach out to him too... They told him about their worries and troubles in complete sincerity… with total trust...

He'd spend hours reminding himself that humans weren't meant to be trusted and all reasons he had to hate them... Repeating it all like a mantra until he felt convinced again. On the day he escaped, he finally had the pleasure of killing them himself...

But then, like a roach that just won't die, they came back and told him about Lilith… all before they said, "It wasn't your fault."

No one prompted them to say it. He'd never voiced it before... It was like they just knew... Like they could read the pain in his eyes this entire time…

He still doesn't quite share their stance on, "It's always okay to cry" so he doesn't like to dwell on the complete breakdown he had after that… He wished his brothers weren't there to see the Human-Hating Belphegor accepting a hug from them while he trembled and cried into their shoulder…

But he couldn't deny that he needed it. And from that day on, he’s accepted that he needed them as well...

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios

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cosmiclatte28 · 4 years ago

Text

One More Night (Jaehyun x you ft Doie)

a/n : I am not forcing anyone to read this, this has sort of a sad angst theme. Jae was abusive here and I don’t mean anything to him.. it’s pure fanfic :”) sorry this is in my head and I had to let this out

warning : jaehyun is abusive but he is depressed and sad, doyoung is your manager. Sorry for curses and mentions of alcohol, cigarette, and self harm. angst

don’t force yourself to read this

You don’t understand yourself. Why aren’t you leaving him? After all he had done to you, his words hurt, his actions pained you, you always go home with bruises, but can you leave him? You can, but your heart doesn’t want to.

Like today, your boyfriend called you again to come to his house. Being the good caring lover, you follow his order. As expected, he called you because he had a rough day.

“I'm tired, i'm so tired (y/n).” Jaehyun slammed his third glass of beer on the counter as he sobs harder next to you.

You extend your arm, to grab his shoulder and rub soothing circles there, seeing Jaehyun broke down like this is more painful than letting him lash out his emotion to you.

“You're strong Jae,” you try to calm him down. He was ranting about his life, how his work life in the leading media corporation is stressful and he got a lot of complains from his director when he submitted this month's proposal.

“I am so done with that company. I'll probably get my white envelope soon.” He scoffs when he finishes his fourth glass. You swore you're confused when did he buy his alcoholic supply. Jaehyun never completes his grocery shopping by himself, it's always you but you never buy alcohols… so who?

“Tell me where did you get these Jae?” you point at the bottles and he chuckles deeply “You question unnecessary things peaches, don’t you wonder why you're here tonight instead?” he pulls you up with one swift swing and brings you to the room.

His breath reeks alcohol, his consciousness was below 50%, you were on your right mind until his soft lips enclosed yours and his hooded sad eyes pierce into your soul.

“You love me don’t you?” the same goddamn question. He traces a finger on your jaw and you choose to close your eyes. Staring into his eyes will only make you fall deeper.

“Answer me,” his palm reaches your cheek and you feel it sting. Here it is, his true self is always out when alcohol and stress consume him.

“I love you Jaehyun,” you whisper tears already flowing out of your eyes. This was not the man you know three years ago. You remember him as the sweetheart of the world, not the scariest man who only come to you for pleasure and ignoring you the next second.

“Then be my good reliever,” he slaps you one more time and the rest of the night you only wish no one heard your sinful noise.

“You're going home?” he asks the second he was tired of rocking you. His half naked torso is laying on the bed. A bud of cigarette was tucked nicely between his lips.

You nod your head as you take your time to redress.

“Stay here, you're my lover.” He pats the empty bed side. Oh you wish you can stay, but with the amount of alcohols he consumed and how your body is already bruising, you knew better to go home.

“I have a schedule tomorrow.” You admit.

Jaehyun sighs “Then sleep here, I'll drive you there tomorrow. I miss you,” he sounds like he had sober up.

You shake your head and lean over to kiss him “You hate my agency Jae, don’t force yourself to come with me.” You run a hand over his hair. He leans into your touch, suddenly the angelic heart throb is here again not the demon of the dark side. He closes his eyes after yawning and slowly drift to sleep.

You take his cigarette bud, turn it off in the ash tray and leave the apartment you once love. Your relationship is toxic but you cannot let him go. Not in this state.

“Wow you do know how late this is?” Your roommate peeks over his room door when he heard you enter the house.

You sigh and take off your jacket “Ah Doyoung, yes it’s very late. Sorry for waking you up. Go to bed you still have time.”

Doyoung shakes his sleep away and walks to you. He knows your relationship with Jaehyun. He was there from the beginning until the time it went wrong. He told you to leave him already, but you cannot.

The man grabs his spectacles and calmly takes your arms and wrists then he twists your body to check your condition.

“He wasn’t that rough tonight?” Doyoung still raises from his seat to take the soothing cream he has prepared for you.

You sigh “You don’t have to do this Doie, I can take care of myself.”

He scoffs “You've been saying that for the last seven months but you never for once take care of yourself if I don’t do this.”

He begins with the bruises on your wrists, the red cheeks, the wild hickeys on your neck and when he ensures none is skipped, he orders you to lift your shirt up.

He always complains on how your waist can survive the dead grip Jaehyun has, they always leave bruises on your body and Doyoung hates how you always struggle in the morning to cover up your bruises.

“You should really leave him. This is not good for your body and mental.” He presses some alcohol on the open wound and you for once thank Heaven you knew Doyoung who can take care of you.

“I cannot Doie, he needs me. He said I am the reason he is holding on.” You lean to the sofa and moan at the delight of relaxing your body.

“gosh your silly job and crazy company.” He hisses

You bite your lips as you stare into the ceiling. This is your job, taking cover pictures for special magazines. No it’s not filled with lewd pictures nor nudes, just regular pictures that were found to be able to comfort men and women who are breaking down and sad. The company did get a lot of money and you have many fans. All of them have been meeting you virtually and telling you how thankful they are to see you. They said seeing you helps them overcome one more day.

You were not fond of your job at first, until you met Jaehyun a photographer for one of your biggest project. It’s for the anti depression campaign and since then both of you got to know each other. Jae was a lovely man who also tells you he is one of those subscribers who wants to thank your cute pictures for helping them survive and stop overthinking.

That comment and all comments and love mails from your fans made you unable to crawl out of this hole. Doyoung is not one of them, he is assigned to look after you but he detests everything related to this. It’s just his job and the wage is pretty much high and he couldn’t find another job with higher wage yet.

Jaehyun was good until six months ago he lost his one and only family member, then he regret all of the things he couldn’t do for them. He turned into a mess, your pictures, your comfort words, your presence itself cannot bring him back. He turned into a monster when he's sad and mad. What happened to him scared you, but your heart cannot leave him.

“It's not silly as long as I can live under this apartment Doie. Look around this pretty apartment is good enough for a payback.” You breathe out. Feeling also emotional after thinking about Jaehyun and holding back the pain you're now feeling.

“You have a schedule tomorrow.” He scrolls his phone and notes the time. He is your personal manager.

“I know-“ before you can finish your sentence a knock was heard on the door.

Both of you look at the door and gulp “Who could it be?” your grip on Doyoung’s hand and your phone rang.

“Shit, it’s Jae.” You push Doyoung out of the sofa and push him to his room direction “Pretend you’re asleep.” You send him a pleading eye, you don’t need a jealous Jaehyun at this moment.

Doyoung just follows your words and hide in his room. You calm yourself down and open the door to find Jaehyun not so sobber, but he is here and you’re surprised he could take a cab here.

“I took the cab, don’t worry. I cannot sleep without you.” He nuzzles into your neck and slumps over your smaller body. With much struggle both of you made it to the sofa and Jaehyun is super messy.

His eyes are wet and he was slurring words while closing his eyes and holding on to you tight “Don’t leave me. Come stay with me again. Why did you leave me?”

He sounds pathetic and you actually want to slap him and yell at him “See yourself and think why I live by myself now or at least not with you….” But you know that will only hurt him more and break him.

“Shh calm down Jae” you card his hair and he relaxes into your touch “I am not leaving you,” at least now your heart whispers. Your eyes fall to his wrist that has been healing slowly from nasty cuts and you plant a quick kiss on his wrist “I am proud of you being strong, stay with me too Jaehyun.”

“If getting hurt is what makes you stay a night more, I’ll bear it with you. Please don’t leave me.” Your tear fell and you kiss his cheek. He did not hear your last sentence for his chest has risen slowly and he fell asleep.

You glance to the half open door, of course Doyoung had to be eavesdropping. He tosses you a free blanket and you’re thankful for his quick wit. You cover Jaehyun up and leave to sleep in your own room. What tomorrow brings, you never know. But tonight, you’re glad at least you help Jaehyun overcome one of his dark nights again.

end

i hope no one has to go through this scenario irl..

reach out for help okay, whenever you feel lonely don’t let the loneliness win over you. you should fight back, or find someone to accompany you

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jawritter · 5 years ago

Text

Age Is Just A Number...

Request by: @missafairy Hello :) How do feel about an age difference, post-sex one-shot? Alternate universe (no hunting), consensual, not underage but quite a big age difference (like at least 10years) where Dean is like freaking out because he's Dean and doesn't want to destroy the girl's life?

Pairing: AU Mechanic!Dean Winchester x Reader, Dean Winchester x Bobby Singer.

Word Count: 1370

Warnings: Implied post smut, implied car smut, Mechanic! Dean, yes that is a warning. Language, insecure Dean, A little Angst, Fluff if you squint. Age gap. (10 years). I think that’s it.

A/N: Hope you enjoy this one, because it is a little different than my usual, and I do hope this is okay as far as filling your request! As always all mistakes are mine! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! Hope you all enjoy this one!

Dean was bent over the hood of a ‘68 Ford Mustang in his Uncle Bobby's Garage. This particular car had been giving him quite a bit of trouble today. The manifold that he was replacing just didn't want to go into place the way it was supposed to, and the owner would be there tomorrow to pick up his car.

Normally something as simple as this he would have been able to do in less than five minutes, but he was distracted today, and his mind really wasn't on what he was doing.

It was on what happened in the back seat of the car he was currently working on during his lunch break, and fun, spontaneous, and exciting as it was, he still couldn’t shake this stupid feeling he had that he just wasn’t good enough for someone as amazing as her.

After a third failed attempt in a row to get the damn thing to tighten down he threw the socket wrench he was using across the garage, and walked off with his hands in his hair to the open garage door, leaning against the wall, breathing in the thick summer air, and letting it burn into his lungs.

"What's wrong with you boy?" Bobby asked, walking around the garage with paperwork in his hand from his most recent tow, the same grumpy expression on his face that Dean had become very accustomed to over the years.

"Nothing, just can't get the damn intake manifold to tighten down, that's all."

Walking past him his nephew Bobby threw the paperwork down on the cluttered, dirty desk in the corner of the room before going to look at the manifold that seemed to be giving Dean such a fit. Picking up a socket wrench that was laying on the ground over by the wall of the garage he made quick work of tightening everything down into its place. Dean just stood there looking at the car as if it had personally offended him, and he hated the damn thing.

"There," Bobby said, dropping the hood on the car, and pulling the grease-stained rag from his back pocket, wiping his hands, and looking at Dean in a way that said he was reading his mail without Dean even opening his mouth.

"Wanna tell me what's got your panties in a twist boy? Because there was no reason you should have been having that much trouble just to tighten down a damn intake manifold."

Dean walked over the old Dodge pickup that was parked next to the mustang and perched himself on the hood. Bobby made his way over to the small refrigerator in the corner of the shop, grabbing two beers and passing one of them to Dean.

"It's Y/N, I'm thinking maybe I should break things off between us," Dean said, picking at the label on the beer bottle he was holding before taking a deep swig of it.

The cold beer felt amazing going down his throat, soothing his overheated body in probably the most unhealthy way possible, but he didn’t care, it was just too damn hot out today, and this beer was too damn good to nurse.

"Why? She's a sweet kid, head over heal for your dumb ass. Why would you want to break things off with that girl? I saw her up here bring you lunch earlier today," Bobby said, eyes narrow like if he could reach across the garage without having to actually move from his seat on top of the desk he would.

Dean just shook his head, looking anywhere in the garage but in Bobby’s direction.

"Spill boy, I damn near raised you, when you was a kid and did something stupid I beat your ass for your own good, and if your about to do something stupid as let that girl go, I'll beat your ass now. So you better cough up a damn good reason why you're being such an idjit, but cause I like that girl."

Taking a deep breath Dean looked at his uncle for the first time since they started this conversation, but he knew the old man wouldn't let it go until he told him the truth about what was going on in his head.

"I'm not good enough for her Bobby. She's young and smart, and fucking gorgeous. She's got a damn good job, she's got so much ahead of her. I'm WAY too old for her. There are 10 years between us. I'm a mechanic. She's a RN. I drink too much. I'm covered with issues man. She doesn't need any of my shit. She needs the chance to find someone her own age. Some doctors or something she works with, someone who can take care of her and give her the life she deserves."

Bobby said nothing during Dean's whole little rant, just let him get it all out.

"You finished throwing yourself a little pity party so I can tell you how stupid you sound," Bobby said, no hint of amusement in his voice.

"Dean that girl loves you, and you're right you don't deserve her, but if you throw that away you will live the rest of your pathetic miserable life regretting it. People like her only come around once in a lifetime. You give this up and it will be the biggest mistake you ever make, and one you won't get to take back. She doesn't care that you are a mechanic, or that you've got issues, point to me one person out there that doesn't have issues. That's no reason to fuck up a good thing with a good girl just because you are feeling insecure about yourself, and got all in your feelings. Stop worrying about age differences. Age is just a number."

Dean couldn't look up at his Uncle, because deep down he knew he was right.

"What if she wants to have kids, by the time the kid turns 10 I'll be in well into my fifties."

"Then you should have plenty of life experience, and by then that you will be able to give your kid a much better life than your father ever gave you," Bobby said coldly.

That's what Dean liked about the man, he had no filter and wasn’t afraid to tell Dean when he was being fucking ridiculous.

"I can promise you this Dean, whatever excuse you make won't be good enough to leave that girl. Period. Now go clean your ass up, go home to Y/N, and show that woman how much you love her before I kick your ass six ways from Sunday," Bobby said, pulling out Dean's paycheck for the week, and handing it to him before leaving the garage.

Dean shook his head looking down at the check in his hands. He honestly didn't know what he'd ever do without that grumpy old man, but he did hope when he got older, that he'd be half the man that he was, and he was thankful every damn day that he had him here with him because he was more of a father to Dean than he ever had.

Bobby was right, Y/N was his everything, and if he threw it all away now he deserved the ass kick that he had coming his way. Sure their relationship wasn't exactly conventional by most standards. Y/N was way out of his league, and he probably was too old for her according to most people, but he didn't care. Bobby was right. Age is just a number. It doesn’t mean shit. He loved that woman more than he'd ever loved anyone, and he couldn't live without her even if he got himself all worked up and had to be talked down sometimes.

Dean heard footsteps making their way through the gravel driveway to the still open garage doors. He smelled her perfume before he even saw her, and it smelt like home. She was his home.

"Hey, handsome. Ready to go?" Y/N asked, as she leaned against the opening of the garage, and smirk playing on her lips, and her sundress flowing in the summer breeze. She never failed to take his breath away, and as soon as he saw her smile at him, all his worries seemed so small.

"Yeah Sweetheart, let's go home."

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Tag List:

@deanwanddamons @imabitch4jensen @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0 @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @alanegaming @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester

#Dean Winchester #Dean winchester x reader #au dean winchester #mechanic!dean #dean winchester x you #dean #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean x reader #dean x you #bobby singer #spn #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #dean winchester one shot #spn one shot #jawritter

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nancythebisexualslutwheeler · 5 years ago

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I’m Coming Home to You

Please read this and validate me.. I wrote this monster in like three hours. XX T

Part One Part Two

He texts Eddie probably too soon. He’s barely folded himself into an uncomfortable seat to wait for the airplane and he only forces himself to send a text to Sarah, before he sends one to Eddie.

From your number: One step closer to home man!

His phone chirps nearly instantly,

From Edward Kaspbrak: I’m glad. Are you in pain?

Physical? Absolutely not. Mental anguish that Eddie thinks he’s playing a game with him because he couldn’t man up and kiss him back? Um, yes.

From your number: I’m fine. Can’t wait to get back home and hit the booze though.

From Edward Kaspbrak: No plane drinking for you?

From your number: And end up crying into the lap of a random stranger? No thanks.

From Edward Kaspbrak: I offered to go with you. You played yourself.

He sends the shrugging emoji and Richie bursts into laughter.

From your number: I’m scared.

From Edward Kaspbrak: I know. Doesn’t mean I love you any less.

Richie’s heart pounds. This is what he means. He can’t do this, he can’t. Their chance is over. They could have had so much, everything. High school and college and they could have gotten married dammit. But nope. Now he’s middle aged and the thought of Eddie saying those words directly to his face, makes him want to vomit.

He puts Eddie on do not disturb, thinks better of it and then powers down the entire phone. He’s having difficulty breathing, and he’s convinced it’s not all entirely his lung.

Richie takes three weeks off to recover, reschedules eight shows and loses about ten grand. His ankle is healed, as well as his head but his lung still hurts if he moves too quickly and he still has this disgusting scar on his face. That’s gonna cost a pretty penny to fix.

He flies out to New York to see Sarah for a few days, and he’s been keeping regular contact with the Losers.

Him and Eddie are.. well. They talk on the phone. Every night. Eddie’s healing up, back to work- analyzing risks- or whatever that bullshit meant. Plugging along with his divorce from Myra. Begging Richie to see him.

Richie avoided it at all costs, terrified of seeing him. So he rambled about his day, his new set, everything.

Richie’s a touch nervous about his show. He’s been laying lower than low since his accident, making extremely sure no one saw him before he was damn well ready.

And apparently that time was gone because he’d no more than ordered his iced latte when some teenager who in all reality is a little too young to be watching his sets, asks for a picture.

It takes him over an hour to get out of the small coffee shop, and that’s only because a manager comes out, pissed.

He doesn’t even want his watered down latte any longer. He angrily throws the coffee into a nearby garbage can and rests heavily against the wall of the building. If even that little interaction was too much, how was he going to get through an entire set tonight?

His phone rings and he has every intention of letting it go to voicemail, until he sees it’s his manager, Steve.

“Hey-o.”

“Rich man, what the fuck were you thinking?! You want to get attacked or something?!”

“I’m barely famous,” Richie says flippantly, hoping he’s not going to get actually yelled at because he can not handle that right now.

“You’re a fucking bum from Maine who somehow got signed with the top comedian company and was promised two back to back tours before you even took pen to paper. Not to mention you nearly died Richie.”

He’s getting sick of hearing those words come out of Steve, and his wife’s mouth. The first entire week he’d been back, he’d stayed with them. He’d gained like fifteen pounds from all the home cooked meals. He’d taken a bubble bath. With epsom salt. So he knows how Steve feels about his accident, he does.

“I just wanted to be normal. For once.” Richie admits quietly.

Steve laughs lightly,

“Me too. Maybe if you were normal, it wouldn’t be so hard being your manager.”

Richie knows it’s a joke, but the sudden thought that Steve wouldn’t want to manage him anymore. His wife is Christian, they have a daughter for Christ’s sake... they don’t need Richie being a bad influence. God, he was just going to get up there and make jokes without any care for anyone else. Not Steve. Not.. he who must not be named. (Okay this isn’t fucking Harry Potter, pull it together Rich.)

“Hey Steve?”

“Yes o favorite client of mine.”

“I made a new set.”

“I know. I am thrilled.”

“Well you may want to taper that back a little.”

“Rich? Is this one of your moments? Do I need to amp you up? Do we need to play Beyoncé?”

Richie is going to kill him. He doesn’t know how to do this. Come out. This is a problem for thirteen year old girls who realized they liked the taste of their best friends lip gloss during practice kissing rather than a boy’s bad breath during real kissing.

“Um, some of my jokes revolve around a guy.”

“Oh cool. You know, you’re not as ugly as you think, but the crowd does go wild for that self hate shit, mainly because your photo of you shirtless at the pool on Instagram got flagged as inappropriate content because people kept commenting “daddy” under it. It’s funny Rich.”

Richie had forgotten about that. He’d thought it was a joke, and he’d sat up drinking beer and eating pizza with his beard Natalie as she insisted, no, he was daddy material. Natalie was a twenty seven year old from fucking Wisconsin of all places and played a ditzy granddaughter on a soap opera that Richie, being the terrible boyfriend he is, has never seen. She wouldn’t know daddy material if it slapped her in the face. She insists she does. But it’s kind of like the way she insists she's slept with Liam Hemsworth. Her beautiful blue eyes beg you to believe her, but she can’t keep the smirk off of her lips.

“No, I mean. Fuck Steve, you know you’re like a brother to me,”

Steve cackles,

“Damn, this is how you treat your family?”

“Ask my sister because the answer most definitely is yes. Anyway, the joke is about me liking a guy.”

There’s a pause,

“Um, Rich my dude. There’s a word for that and it’s called homophobia.”

Richie grunts and balls his free fist at his side,

“No like, I like a guy. For real.”

There’s a pause,

“Is something wrong with Natalie?”

“No, no no! Oh god Natalie. I have to tell her. Oh god, I can’t go on tonight. I can’t.” He says pathetically. Desperately.

“I understand this is a crisis situation, I do, but we’ve got a baby on the way, and this show is raking in like a quarter of a mill so, you’re going on.”

“A baby? Oh wow!”

Something Richie will never have. Wait. Where did that come from? Does he want kids?

“Richie, shut up. Okay, I’m only going to ask once, are you sure this is what you want to do?”

Richie hesitates. He wonders if Natalie will still want to be friends.

“If you think this will ruin her career, we’re not doing it.”

“Other than that?”

Richie presses his thumbs against his eyelids in concentration.

“Yes.”

It’s barely a whisper.

“I’ll take care of everything.”

“Steve-“

“Everything. Be at the studio at 5.”

“But I don’t go on til 8.”

“Richie, be there on time I swear to god.”

Richie shows up around 6:30. He hasn’t heard from Natalie or Steve, so they can’t be too pissed.

He’d had to shower twice. He’d talked to Mike on the phone. He’d texted Eddie about twice before he got nervous. He’s tired and crabby and this is not the way he’s supposed to be starting his first show back. Not by a long shot.

So the first thing he does is ask the first person he sees for some scotch. Steve might kill him but he needs to be at least tipsy to make it through this one.

He’d thought he was ready, but maybe he wasn’t. He’s not ready to face Steve’s inevitable wrath, or at least annoyance, so he ducks into the dressing room.

To his dismay, Natalie is in there, talking to his hairstylist Maggie. She stands up immediately and she’s got her wide smile on and she hugs him tightly and kisses his cheek instead of his lips,

“You’re late.”

“Sue me.”

She snorts, “I have a lot of reasons too, so I’d shut up. Anyway, I have dinner for you.”

“Dinner?”

“I’m not just a pretty face you know.” And she hands him a Tupperware container.

He hasn’t seen Tupperware in like 15 years. He laughs and she rolls her eyes,

“Come on, there’s a microwave over here.”

She places her hand on the small of his back, perhaps more out of muscle memory and she leads him into the small kitchenette, taking back the Tupperware before heating the food.

“So? This is interesting.”

“You can’t be.. surprised.” He says, even though that’s a straight lie.

“I assumed all men in their forties had issues getting it up, even when a pair of perfect tits in their face.”

He knows she’s kidding. He does, and it’s not even the first time she’d given it back as good as she got but he suddenly feels like crying. She must sense this immediately because Natalie is amazing like that, and she’s wrapping her arms around him. He cries into her chest like a fucking child. They only pull away after the microwave beeps for like the millionth time.

“Oh honey. It’s going to be okay.”

“How are you going to be?”

“Oh you’re cutting me a check. Steve promised.”

“You should be cutting me a check princess. I know your contract just got renewed.”

“You’re making nearly 25k... tonight.”

“Snooping are we?”

She shoves the Tupperware at him,

“Eat your dinner.”

“Natalie, are we still, gonna be friends I mean?” He asks sheepishly.

She made him chicken, potatoes and green beans. He knows everything is homemade. She hated the chemicals in the fake meat he ate. Hey, he was gonna die for a lot of other shit, and probably first. The environment was worth it. Okay not time for a fucking rant right now.

“Honey, we’re family.”

There’s a knock on the door,

“Rich? I’ve got the fucking liquor you ordered.” Steve says, handing him the bottle. “Do not get too wasted.”

Richie gets like.. half a shot too wasted. He’s buzzing. He’s flushed and warm and his hands are sweaty and Natalie isn’t fawning all over him like she usually does and he is stressed. He’s alone. He wants to message Eddie but he pussies out.

When he goes out, the screams are deafening. Once he gets the mic in his hand, he’s flying. He goes on about the nasty gash on his face, hobbling around with a twisted rib and how his crazy, lazy, halfway drunk ass is going to be an uncle. The jokes flow easily, even if he didn’t plan on saying it, and suddenly he has the terrible thought, shrugs and hopes that Sarah has already told her baby daddy.

And then he gets into it.

“So I know you’re all dying to know what the hell happened. I wish I could say that it was some badass like, car robbery. But it was just a straight up mugging. The thing is that I was with my friends, right? I know that’s shocking, hardy har har. But I’m with some friends, and I have this one friend. Her name is Bev, she’s gorgeous, and a bad ass through and through, strongest person I know, my bad, I’m exposing myself a bit too much, I am a heartless prick, I promise.

“But we’re at a bar, and some skeeze, no a real dick, I mean it. Takes her purse. Is this fucking 1992? Who steals a purse? Now, I’ve got a shit ton of liquor in me, but suddenly I’m running. And it’s cold, we’re in Maine and it’s winter And I’m freezing my balls off. And I’ve almost got him, I did track in high school, yeah yeah I don’t look like I can run from here to backstage, I get it.”

The crowd roars.

“The point is, I’m almost on him. This motherfucker pulls out a knife. Now, I know this doesn’t sound funny but listen, number one, Bev is a fucking receptionist at a dental office, she’s not even raking in the dollars. Trust me, I’ve paid her rent a few times,” he straight up hasn’t and even though he thinks it’s funny ,he shouts out a quick, “love you Bev!”

“Anyway, the guy pulls out a knife and goes insane. I thought this beer belly would protect me, but alas,” his voice is getting sad, so he pulls it together, “Anyway. The first of my friends to find me is someone I’m close to right. My first love. And I’m bleeding out on the cold cement, for real, Natalie, though she could have given me some tips on how to handle it so beautifully, but my first love’s in front of me and I’m pretty sure I’m going to die.

“So I’m going on and on and throwing around big words that my man child ass doesn’t know the meaning of, like love and forever, and he’s staring at me like the idiot I am, and I promise there’s a point to this joke, and the joke is that once again, Richie fumbled. Good old Rich just lost it. So the fuck up you see right here, it turns out I’m actually this way in real life. So please remember what an absolute goof I am, especially next time you want to stalk me at fucking Dunn Brothers, and fuck up my oat milk latte, which is an extra ninety cents by the way, please remember that I’m a big dork,”

Suddenly there’s a commotion in the crowd and some guy is standing on his chair and Richie’s never wanted to die more,

“Did you say a guy?” He shouts.

It’s silent, before he nods slightly,

“Yes I did. I’m a big ol-“ he doesn’t even know what fucked up thing he’s going to say, when the crowd erupts into applause.

And he’s sure that some people left, or there’s comments, but the applause is all he needs. He is a slut for validation after all. Thank you love language quiz. Words of affirmation baby!

The rest of the set goes great and he’s still properly buzzed when he steps off stage. Steve is clapping him on the shoulder, even though he’s on the phone and then Richie’s rushed backstage and handed water and there’s. He squeezes the water bottle too tight and it explodes all over him. It’s freezing, even though he feels warm and before he’s thinking about it, he’s yanking off his shirts and suddenly someone’s handing him a towel and he hears a dog whistle. He’s about to tell Natalie to fuck off, when he sees who she’s standing by.

There. In the flesh, is Eddie Kaspbrak. He looks good, dammit. A maroon sweater and tight black jeans. His cheeks are flushed and he’s holding his black jacket in his arms.

“No one took his coat?” Richie yanks it out of his hands and throws it somewhere. “Where’s everybody else?”

He looks confused,

“What do you mean?”

“Impromptu Loser’s trip to my show. Is Bev pissed about the rent thing because I swear-“

Natalie sips at some cocktail awkwardly and Eddie swallows hard,

“Um, it’s just me.”

Richie halts. He sees someone off the scene - he knows these people’s names- he swears, it’s just dark. But he gestures for the booze again. Eddie came to see him. For his first show. Oh god. Eddie heard him go on about his jawline for Christ’s sake and now. He looks like a deer in headlights. The scotch is thrust into his hands and he takes three long pulls before doing anything.

The worst part is Eddie is just chilling. Kicking it, while Richie has this internal meltdown which he knows is showing on his face. He doesn’t know what to do so he all but thrusts the liquor at Eddie, grabs Natalie’s arm and storms off.

“What am I gonna do? Shit he’s here, he’s here.”

“You knew he was gonna hear the sketch anyway, why does it matter?”

“Because I’m drunk. I acted like a lovesick fool. My dad bod is exposed. What am I gonna do?! And be serious. There’s only room for one funny one in this relationship.”

She smiles,

“Good thing it’s me, my darling. Talk to him. He seems cool.”

“You talked to him?!”

“Uh yeah. He’s been back here since about half way through the set. Barged right back here. Lucky I recognized the name.”

He stares and she sighs,

“You’ve been saying his name in your sleep. Ever since the accident.”

“Oh god. You probably think I’m pathetic.”

“Not pathetic, in love.”

“In love? But I’m, we don’t know each other. We haven’t kept in touch in years.”

“Love doesn’t fade with age sweetie.”

“Oh stop being reasonable! I understand you just got a new gay best friend, but be logical.”

She snorts,

“Trust me, no one wants to go shopping with you. I am being logical. That man is head over heels for you. And you’re head over heels for him. Now do something about it before I kick your ass.”

“Your shoes are too expensive.”

“What am I gonna do? Talk about my feelings?”

She shakes her head quickly,

“Oh god no. Who knows what would come out. Just, ya know, go seduce him, with all of this.”

If it were anyone else he’d think they were kidding, but the have had sex dozens of times and so he knows she can’t be joking too much. His insecure ass isn’t that desperate so he keeps his mouth shut. She touches his shoulder,

“Go out there and kiss him. Just kiss him.”

He stares and she whacks his arm,

“And keep your mouth shut. No jokes.”

“What if he tries to slip in a little tongue?” He wags his eyebrows.

“You’re not nearly as charming as you think you are.”

“Eddie thinks so,” he says quickly, before he can stop himself.

Natalie grins,

“By the grace of god he does. Now go kiss him dammit!”

He strides out of the room, not paying any attention to if she’s following him, but he bets she is, as if she’d miss this. Eddie is looking flushed and cradling the scotch bottle like a pacifier and all Richie does is take it out of his hand and set it down quickly. Eddie stares. Eddie’s here. Eddie came here. To California. To see his set. He’d paid to see Richie. He remembers to ask Steve about a refund, vaguely of course, before he’s fitting a hand around Eddie’s jaw, Eddie’s beautiful jaw and ducking in to kiss him.

There’s no symphony or choir that starts singing but his heart does feel about three sizes too big like that Dr.Seuss book, and Eddie kisses him back so softly, as if he’s going to break. More likely that he’ll pull away, but Richie can’t imagine. Pulling away from this magical kiss. Eddie’s tongue licks tentatively at his lips and Richie opens his mouth immediately in a grin.

He hears a dog whistle and an “Atta boy!” And wow he hates his team so much. They’re getting fired, the whole lot of them.

Things must get a little heated because he hears the sharp clearing of a throat,

“I can get you out the back way,” says Steve, sheepishly.

Except Steve, Steve can stay.

Richie is being handed a clean, dry shirt from someone, he’d forgotten, that wouldn’t be a good look, and then he takes Eddie’s hand. Firmly. It’s a good hand.

“You ready to get out of here?”

“After you,” Eddie says, squeezing back.

“Why not after you? You’re the one with the ass that won’t quit.”

“You’re the one paying for this Lyft so you’re going first.”

“Hm, expensive date. Am I going to get into your pants later at least?”

Eddie scoffs,

“Do you ever stop?”

Richie halts,

“Actually no. Is that a deal breaker, because-“

Eddie shakes his head quickly,

“No. No. I love it. I love you.”

Richie’s head swirls,

“Um. I’m not ready.”

He knows he’d brought this up. His secret had started it, but, the last person he’d said I love you to was Sarah. And he most certainly was not in love with Sarah.

“It’s okay. I just don’t want there to be any confusion on how I feel. I love you Richie.”

Eddie squeezes his hand as a black car pulls up in front of them.

“Damn that was fast.”

“Oh Edward, bold of you to assume I don’t have my own car.”

“Don’t call me that! God, you really are famous.”

“A little bit,” he says in a singsong voice, opening the door for Eddie.

“Shut up dick.”

“Hey, your face will look good in paper print, I think.”

Richie slides in the car next to Eddie,

“Your face would look good-

“Where Eddie?” He dares, “where?”

“You know what, your... mom. It’s unfair, I haven’t worked on my insults in thirty years, you’re over here being a professional cornball.”

Richie snorts,

“Not my problem. Cause I can go all night baby.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow,

“Can you now?”

There’s a cough from the front seat,

“Sorry Carl. I’ll tell my friend to simmer down, there are innocents around.”

“You know I can hear you starting it Richie. Right?”

“Carl, you wound me. How can you think that I would have such a dirty mind?”

“Where are we going sir?”

He makes a puking noise,

“Sir.. gross. Just home.”

“Sounds good sir,” Carl says once more to be a dick.

“I like the sound of that,” Eddie teases, “Sir.”

“Oh hell no. First of all, fuck off. Second of all, you’d be referring to me as sir under entirely different circumstances.”

Eddie’s face flames,

“Natalie didn’t say you were this insane.”

“Natalie, Angel, light of my life, would never betray me like that. What did she tell you?”

Eddie mimes zipping his lips,

“Secrets, secrets.”

“I don’t think you’re meant to be friends with my ex.”

Eddie pales slightly at that and Richie wonders if he made it too weird.

“I mean, she’s my best friend too so,”

“No no, it’s fine, I just never thought of it like that. Oh god? That’s my competition? Teenie bopper soap star with a great rack?”

Richie stiffens at hearing Natalie being reduced to that, but he hears what Eddie is saying,

“There’s no competition Eds. Never been one.”

Eddie looks up at him and smiles softly. Richie leans in for a kiss. It gets a little heated and Richie tries to stretch out so Eddie can lay beside him, but Eddie kicks Carl’s chair and there’s a very judgmental stare coming from the rear view mirror,

“Mr.Tozier, there’s a reason I don’t drive preteens anymore.”

“Fine, fine, can you speed up then?”

“I am happily going the five over the speed limit you usually request.”

“If I pay you extra can you make it ten?”

He hesitates like he wouldn’t do it for free, before grinning,

“3%?”

“Done.”

The car speeds a little faster and luckily Eddie’s short enough to crunch his legs up on the seat so that he can lay on Richie’s chest. He feels good. He feels real. He feels promised.

#reddie #reddie fan fiction #richie tozier #Eddie kaspbrak #it 2017 #it 2019 #please validate me #my writing #long post

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tristala · 6 years ago

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Star vs the Forces of Evil Finale (Spoilers) Part 5 Final:

I remember the time when I used to imagine what the ending of this series might be. The possibilities were endless and fascinating. I used to anticipate those new episodes and browse the fandom for theories. But now in the last months it had, I just wanted to get it over with.

In all of the series finales I have ever watched in my life as of now, Cleaved is the worst one I have ever seen. It was even worse than Samurai Jack’s ending.

So you’re telling me that Tom Lucitor, one of Star’s and Marco’s closest friends, was forgotten by the same “best friends” that he’s ever had? I know that everything was chaotic but they didn’t even show that they stopped to think where he is?

Was destroying the magic really the only thing they could do? Was there really no other way? Star suddenly just made a very rash decision/revelation. They could have gone through with Eclipsa’s suggestion and tried to fight Mina or just come up with something else. Star claims that magic was the root of all the problems but have they stopped to think about the good things too?

Did Star ever thought about the magical beings made out of magic? Her spells? The MHC? They were problematic yes but she kinda grew up knowing them. Why didn’t they show her hesitating at all?

And Marco. You have known Hekapoo for over 16 years but you have barely shown any remorse or sadness that your old friend, who you have known for more than half of your life and known far more and longer than Star, is going to just die? Just like that? Do you feel nothing at all?

An “I’ll miss her.” is not a good show of sorrow people.

ALSO him getting stabbed didn’t matter at all. It was all for the trailer to hype the fans. That’s pathetic. No side effects to the stab wound at all. Nothing.

It did not give me any sense of satisfaction at all to see Mina getting defeated like that. I really don’t like the fact that Solaria was just frowning and coldly staring at her most loyal subordinate getting beaten down and kind of getting drowned by the dark unicorn. It disturbed me. It didn’t feel right. Solaria was almost the same. I bet she has even killed innocent monsters and their children. I feel her character doesn’t have the right to judge Mina when she has done the same.

Mina is of course, not an innocent person. She is a crazy monster hating fanatic but who was responsible for it all? Solaria. She was the one who experimented on her and while I know that Mina volunteered, she probably didn’t know that she’d turn coo-coo and be alone for centuries. Mina could have been a great antagonist but she didn’t have enough screen time. I understand why she became what she is now but a full flashback episode couldn’t have hurt.

This series has shown that not all monsters and mewmans are evil but then they could have, should have delved into that more. Both sides have their reasons for war but it really would have helped if They. Have. Shown. More.

Hence I shall talk about another wasted character that I couldn’t stop mentioning because he was such a waste.

Toffee is literally my favorite character. There was so much mystery with him I was so intrigued that it kept me up at some nights thinking about what his past was or what’s his next move.

What did the Butterflies do to him to make him hate their magic so much? How did he meet Glossaryck? How did he rise up and become a general? What was his relationship with Seth?

There still so many questions. But no, they just killed him off. Just like that. Again.

Star has always been selfish and that’s fine, she’s a spoiled, privileged princess who didn’t know much about the world yet she did grow throughout the show. But I never thought that she would be so willing to never see her family and friends and her world just to be with a boy she loves. That was so selfish.

I actually understand Marco’s decision more because he was freaking stabbed by a unicorn with dark magic so he might have thought that returning to Earth would just be heartbreaking for his loved ones to see him die or something. Or maybe he also just cares about Star and Star alone. Who knows at this point. I mean this is the Marco who has become numb to his own parents.

The music was so dramatic and epic. It builds up at the right time but I wish it was used for a completely different finale for the show. The scenes it was used for didn’t do justice for it.

“Because with or without magic,”

“We belong together.”

I vomited inside guys.

Star and Marco. You are emotional teenagers. Romantic love isn’t the ultimate love of all. Get over yourselves. I hate that the series is showing that romance is the only thing that matters. That two people having that type of love don’t need anything or anyone else. That’s a messed up message to send.

And all of this is happening just after Star, Moon, Eclipsa and Meteora committed genocide.

Those people, those unicorns, those spells had their own thoughts, their own will and their own lives. They had families and they all just died for a gamble that a teenager has rashly made.

All of the creatures made out of pure magic are dead and majority didn’t get a say to it.

When Ponyhead was “comforting” Star it was all sorts of wrong for me. They will never see some of their friends again. But why can Ponyhead still fly? And how did she know about their friends and their other worlds? Was she lying? This all just feel forced with them laughing and feeling better. Also, does this mean Tom can go back to his home? Does he still have his powers?

And the way they treated the Magical High Commission’s deaths were very disturbing, at least to me. I am aware that they have done horrible things but the way their deaths were portrayed as a joke is frankly messed up.

Another thing is Ludo’s arc is also one of my more favorite arcs of the story. I was looking forward to him having more screen time now that he has kind of recovered and grew as a person. Him and Dennis were adorable and I wish there was more content of them. I was hoping they would appear in the finale but I wasn’t surprised that they just appeared for like a few seconds.

And finally, the merging of Mewni and Earth. For the last time, the show treated it like it was a good thing, the music used for it was so lighthearted and hopeful while you see humans running away in horror and some being victims of other creatures. I bet a lot has already died. There will be upcoming destruction and culture shock on both worlds. There will be even more fear and discrimination for the monsters. There will be wars. It was horrifying and so fucked up.

But hey, at least we got our OTP back together right? RIGHT? This ending is so fucked up. Fuck off finale.

The only things that I actually liked was Moon and Eclipsa seeing their mothers for the last time (Though I’m still iffy about Solaria having “redemption” if that’s what you’re gonna call it) and the music.

God the music was amazing. It’s the kind of music for an epic finale which the series didn’t give. Such a waste.

So, let’s sum this up:

Star committed genocide of pure magical creatures and prevented other people from seeing their friends and family ever again. She and Marco have an unhealthy obsession with each other to the point that they were willing to leave their parents and friends forever just be with each other. Moon was given a slap on the wrist and was forgiven easily for endangering hundreds of innocent lives. Earth and Mewni are now cleaved together so now the monsters will be in even more danger and be more prone to discrimination.

Four years of character development and plot buildup just flushed down the toilet.

I was in love with this series. It was one of my top cartoons. But ever since season 3 it just went for the worse. Instead of me getting excited for a new episode, I watched it like I’m watching it out of obligation with some dread almost every time.

I know kept saying this but it had so so much potential. It could have been great. This could have been a classic cartoon that people would love to rewatch. A show like Adventure Time, Gravity Falls and Avatar The Last Airbender. But all of it was wasted unnecessary drama on romantic love. 35% of those episodes were about romance. If they had just gotten over with it or didn’t have much focus on it the show could have been much more fleshed out.

It’s just so sad that a lot of people put a lot of heart and hard work on this series for it to end up like this.

I will miss Star vs the Forces of Evil but I will miss it mainly for the wasted potential it had.

To all the people who read this rant or the other parts of my rants, thank you.

Parts 1, 2, 3 and 4

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opinuun · 5 years ago

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Do you guys remember when this was a studio Ghibli blog and I’d post gifs? 2017 was a good year lol. Anyway. As a child, I never knew I’d thirst for a 2-D otome man, but sadly I’ve stopped. Yes, after two years of obsession, it’s time I retire from the fandom. I’m keeping the blog though. Ran this shit for years, ain’t gonna give up now that my horny-meter has plummeted to an all time record low. Did you guys know blogs don’t have a character limit??

Oh god. I didn’t know this blog would suddenly receive so much attention. Please, I am begging you to not scroll down. It’s endless MysticMessenger posts from two years ago.

Hey, I'm once again: back, you can't possibly have more time than I do. I mean, after all, I made this blog. You're only browsing it. And most people don't even come here. Not even my friends...*sniffle* The just ignore this poor, pathetic little page. All they do is fill out the TAB form and leave. I think. Maybe they're here right now! HI! HOW ARE YOU DOING? I'M FINE! THANKS FOR COMING! YES, I'M YELLING! Who am I kidding. This page won't get a single hit, unless I bribe people...now that has possibilities. Okay, fill out the TAB form, so I have proof that you bothered to come here and...uh...I'll...uh...send you a sandwich? Please allow 6-8 weeks for delivery. I'm bored. I'm gonna go hug a moose. MOOSE! I love-d you moose! Hey, I'm back again! Yea...*waits for applause* okay! Now I want all you loyal fans...*cricket chirps* to go to the link to see what I'm like. I took a whole bunch of personality quizzes and posted them there. I'm an evil villain, kitty and a freakazoid so far. And I only took the quiz once, too. Spooky how accurate they are...anyway, I command you to go! I'm going. I'm back. I'm gonna start counting how many times I say back. Let's see: 1...2...3...4...5! Wow. I must really be desperate for something to do. I now officially have proof that someone has been here! It was one of my friends. Apparently this page really is getting long, because my friend said something to that effect. Maybe. Anyway, moving on! I'm just basically typing nothing. Just like all those reports people have to do. You know? With a specific number of words. They start out with half that number, and then just fill in words until they have the right amount. I salute those people. You're great tradition is being carried out here, on the second most pointless site ever! Well. Maybe eventually some weird, bored person will wander onto my site on accident and be mildly entertained be my site until they wander onto a live video feed of a coffee maker. Or maybe not. I only know that I'm entertaining me, which was my original goal. So. I've done what I've set out to accomplish. Yea, me! I'm so special. You see, most people, they don't like reading or writing. So if you're not most people, you've made it down this far without skipping, skimming or getting the spark notes version. (Which I think does not exist) My point is, if you've bothered to read this, then, (like me) you probley have also read the ketchup bottle so many times that you have it down verbatim. Look verbatim up. It's a word. But, you should know that, since you like reading. Or maybe you're just skimming. Anyway, there's nothing wrong with reading food labels. You might be asked a question about them on a quiz show. And now, for the million-dollar question: How many calories are there in a single serving of Mustard? I can just see it now...It could be called Know-Your-Food. Or You are What you Eat. It'd probley be as popular as those game shows that no one's ever heard of. Speaking of food, what's up with pie? There's strawberry pie, apple, pumpkin and so many others, but there is no grape pie! I know. I'm just as upset about this unfortunate lack of development in the pie division. Think about it. Grapes are used to make jelly, jam, juice and raisins. What makes them undesirable for pie? Would they dry into raisins? Couldn't you just stick some jelly in a piecrust and bake it? It just doesn't make any sense. Another thing that bothers me is organ grinders. You know, the foreign guys with the bellhop hats and the little music thingy and the cute little monkey with the bellhop hat who collects the money? Okay. They're basically begging on the street. How did they ever afford an organ-thingy? Wouldn't it make more sense to get a kazoo, if you're broke? And if they're so poor, what possessed them to buy a monkey? I mean, I don't think I could afford a monkey, and I'm not exactly on the streets. Obviously I at least have a computer...so, back to the organ grinders. I would have sold the monkey and the organ and been able to eat for at least a year. Or, if I was weirder than I am, I could at least kill the monkey with the organ and eat it. Why on earth did they keep the monkey? It must have cost a fortune to feed...not to mention the mess. That's just one of those many facts of life that are better left mysteries. Especially since no one but me would ask the question. I better go. I think I hear a monkey...Okay...now I'm back. That's the sixth time I've said back! I realize that this longest text ever must be very boring and not worth anyone's time. But I'd like to take this time to thank the 2 and 1/2 people in the entire universe who have bothered to read this entire thing. I'm not exactly sure who they are, but: thanks! Right now, my spacebar is malfunctioning...that's not good...I have to press it two or three times just to insert a freaking space. Maybe the evil little faeries with the sharp little teeth have put their evil faerie dust on my computer. Or maybe not. This is too frustrating. Goodbye for now...Now I'm back. And still frustrated. But for a different reason. Today I had the misfortune of playing a Treasure Planet game on neopets.com It was terrible. Apparently the point of the game was to get your character to shout "Whoo-Hoo!" as many times as possible before you splattered your brains on the rocks, all the while listening to a soundtrack that is similar to a dying ceiling fan. Of course, when I started out I accidentally hit the rocks approximately three million times. Halfway though I used my four remaining brain-cells to decide that the game was dumb. So my goal changed from surviving to laughing evilly while my character died. So the game naturally did everything it could to preserve my life. The stupid game is still going on and I refuse to quit because I want my points. My character is actually dodging the stupid rocks better now then when I controlled him. I hate irony. Seeya. Okay. Now I'm back again. Today I added an update page, which is basically a less chaotic, outlined version of this without all the ranting. It's more like techno talk about arrays and how much I suck and whether or not the Braves will win this year. Okay, the whole braves thing is made up. But everything else I've said so far is true. I think. Maybe I should start on a boring disclaimer...Eh-hem. All contents of this site were designed for entertainment purposes only. Any use thereof that is not stated in the above mentioned statement would make the author, hereby referred to as Patron Saint of Paper Clips, very angry. Should you violate the purpose of this site: i.e. become not entertained, the Patron Saint of Paper Clips will be forced to take drastic measures. This is specified in Code: 343 of the Flaming Chicken Handbook. Ooooo…that’s a great idea! I’m gonna start quoting from the Flaming Chicken Handbook! Code: 343 of the Flaming Chicken Handbook states that the Patron Saint of Paper Clips (that’s me) is allowed to cause vague, pain like sensations while the offending person (or alien life form, dog, etc.) isn’t paying attention. Now I have a purpose in life! To make up quotes from the non-existent Flaming Chicken Handbook, which I’m sure you have a copy of. No? Too bad. It’s in the mail, I promise! Now I must take my leave…and remember. Cheese is watching. Okay...I'm back...I think that eventually half of this thing will consist of the word back over and over again...that's just weird. Which fits the motif of the rest of the site. There's even a money back guarantee. Isn’t' that nice? See? Now no one can ever say that I don't take care of my viewers. Especially since I don't have viewers. I have readers. Wait...I really don't even know if anyone bothers to read this. Even if I put it in a less chaotic, more user-friendly format people would still ignore this because it involves: reading. Yes. Sad to admit, but the majority of people would rather read the summary at the back of a book rather than the whole book itself. What has the world come to? It's pathetic. Especially since I'm bothering to write all this. It's not fair! Why can't I have more readers?! All the other internet writers have nothing on me, except they're better at advertising, having a central theme/plot and basically more talented. Whereas I'm more into the whole ranting and raving stage right now. Plus, I am horrible at spelling. Which is bad. Thank the powers that be for spell-check. The single greatest invention of the computer gods. I'm getting bored, so I think I'm done for the day. May your day be shiney! I'm back again! And I feel weird! I found at that yet another one of my friends is reading this. Creepy. Just how much time do they have on their hands. Perhaps their just trying to be nice. I can just see it now...an organization devoted not to feeding the hungry, or peace, or love or whatever, but to giving recognition to all those poor, pathetic, unpopular websites. I wonder what it's name would be. Don't Ignore Sites? Would it be called DIS? Isn't that like a slang term for an insult? Would that be considered poetic justice, or just a nice coincidence? And why do I even care? I'll tell you why. Because I have nothing else to do right now. I could be playing neopets, but ever since my bad experience with Treasure Planet, I don't feel like it. Oh, by the way, I noticed that whenever I use spell-check, my stupid computer turns the word probley into to word problem. To prevent this, I did nothing. So, it is now up to you, the imaginary reader, to decide whether I mean probley or problem...it's almost like a game! But without the bad sound track. And I promise not to force you to live when you would rather die. Moving on, I have nothing else to say, but don't feel like quitting just yet. I'm like the little engine that could. Or maybe the Energizer Bunny. I just keep going, and going and going. Or I could be like that annoying guy on T.V. who keeps asking if you can hear him. If my site manages to last a decade, my readers *snicker* will probley wonder what I'm talking about. My answer is simple. It doesn't matter. I'm just rambling. Which means that it doesn't matter if you understand anything I say. Doesn't that make you feel better? I bet it does. Wow. Look how long this has gotten. I even impress myself. Who would have thought I have this much free time? And I congratulate any reader who has gotten this far. Ooooooo! You must check out the fortunes section of the random stuff page! I've just gotten an idea for some more, original, fortunes...I gotta go!(may the moose be with you) And now I am back. I swear. If iI fill out the fake tab form I'm gonna have to put back as my favorite word...I already have filled it out, though. Would it be cheating to fill it out again? Only if I had multiple personalities. Or would it be cheating if I didn't have multiple personalities? The world may never know. Just like how many licks it takes to get to the bottom of a tootsie pop. Would it vary? The number of licks, I mean. Someone could have super-disolving spit, or watery-spit. Or what if you took big ol' slobbery licks? Does the commercial take that into account? No. It doesn't. And let me tell you, it's an outrage. It deludes all of American's sweet, innocent, candy-loving children into thinking that a cartoon owl is smarter than they are! "Mr. Owl, can you tell us how many licks does it take to get to the bottom of a tootsie pop?" Or whatever. And "Mr. Owl" replies "One...Twoo...Three! Chomp" And he bites it. That teaches our youth that it's okay to agree to help someone, and then ruin their experiment. Well...it's not. I am going to start a protest group. Teens Against Cartoon Owls. We could call ourselves TACO! I love the little tacos, I love them good! That is a direct quote from GIR, co-star and comic-relief on INVADER ZIM. Hmmmm...intersting. I put hyphens in both of his titles...it must be a conspiracy! I gotta go. Those TACO buttons don't make themselves, you know. I'm back again. And not so cheesed off about the whole tootsie roll pop thing. Right now, I have another twenty minutes on the Internet before I'm gonna watch T.V. And I can't think of anything else to do. So, predictably, here I am. It's not like I have anything better to do. Obviously, you know this. After all, look how long this text is. I wonder if I've made the world record? If I did, would I stop this? Why bother asking? I'll will most likely still be adding to this on my death bed. Hmmmmm...has any old, senile person ever written anything? Was it coherent? Did it make more sense that this text? Is it possible to make less sense? Am I enjoying asking retorical questions? Yes. Yes, I am. But I seriously wonder what something written by a senile person would be like. I've heard of poems and stuff written by people who were high, insane or paranoid. But never senile. Can a senile person write? Aren't they regressed to a child-like state? Does it even matter? Is anyone even reading this? Did I resume asking retorical questions? Do you care? Is this eating up time? I feel like I'm playing questions only on whose line is it anway. I probley should have capitalized something, or underlined but I'm feeling lazy...hey, you try to keep your two and a half readers happy! It's really stressfull. Someday, I'm gonna snap and just delete this entire thing. Gee, I hope not! I worked sorta hard on this. It's great for making random topics weave together to form an overall infrastructure of chaos. That made little sense. That's why it's here, and not some critically acclaimed site. Ooooooooooooo! I'm gonna quote from the FLAMING CHICKENS HANDBOOK again! Yep! I bet you were just breathless in anticipation. Okay. Here goes. Code: 472 of the Flaming Chickens Handbook states that this site in no way aknowledges the existance of other, better sites (hereon reffered to as the Losers) The Losers are a myth. The Patron Saint of Paper Clips (me again!) claims no knowledge as to where that particullary nasty rumor started, but confirms that this is the best site ever. It would be a sin against humanity for a better site to exist. Should you refuse to aknowledge the Patron Saint of Paper Clips as the ruler of the Internet, you will be subjected to punishment as stated in Code 343 of the Flaming Chicken Handbook (i.e. Experience vague, pain-like sensations when you're not paying attention) This has been a public service announcement. This is a test, I repeat only a test. Had this been an actual emergency, we would have bought up all the can openers and charged 3 cows and a pig for each one. I repeat, lock all you doors and windows, this is it. I repeat, there is nothing to worry about. Everything is fine. The end is not here. I'm going, you're on you're own! Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm back!*smiles brightly* And apparantly delusional! Anyway, I just finished rereading my longest text ever. And I became inspired to talk about nothing. You see, I periodically read the longest text ever to check the constant downward spiral of my sanity. Hmmm...I seem to be entertaining myself though, even while reading what I wrote. Which is why I still go to the Really Really Big Button That Doesn't Do Anything website. Because I am easily amused and have lots and lots of time on my hands. Maybe, some day far in the future (like next Thursday) I'll print a copy of this insane text. And then go door to door distributing it. Eventually, this would become a monthly tradition. Whole families would gather around their front door, in breathless anticipation while they attempted to barracade me out. I can just see the whole community rising to thwart my attempts to spread love, joy and insane chaos. I probley wouldn't actually print this out (think how much paper it would take!) but if I do, only friends and enemies will receive copies. Hmmmm...maybe my condition is worsening. Or not. I'm still peeved about the cartoon owl from the Tootsie Roll Pop commercials. He is pure evil. TACO will eventually destroy him. Unless he has already been destroyed by an even more radical Anti-Cartoon-Owl group. I hope not. Or, would that be good? I suppose I could let someone else have the glory. After all, I'm not in this line of buisness for the fame, fortune and power. What line of buisness, do you ask? Why, the assasinating annoying cartoon characters buisness. (Actually I just question them untill they spontaneously combust, I ask lots of questions) So, in conclusion, ladies and gentleman of the jury(that's you) I could not have possibly tortured "Mr. Owl" to death. I love owls. Hmm...I seem to be jumping from one subject to another more frequently. Either I am growing more comfortable with my on-line writing, or I am progressivly getting more insane and chaotic. I also am psyco-analyzing myself a lot today...hmmmm...I'm even saying "hmmmmm..." a lot. Just like a real psychologist. Hmmmmmmm. Time for another boring disclaimer!!!!!!! Code: 742 of the Flaming Chickens Handbook states that in no part does the Patron Saint of Paper Clips (That's still me!) actually claim to be mentally ill. That's either a) a publicity stunt b) An attempt at humor c) a cry for help or d) none of the above You can e-mail your responses by conducting a scavenger hunt of this site. Some of the pages of this site contain a link encouging the two and a half people to e-mail the Patron Saint of Paper Clips. There may also be evil little links that are designed to confuse you. These links send stuff to someone named [email protected] Saint of Paper Clips does not know who this individual is, but sincerly wishes that you send all your hate mail to him. Not that the aformentioned individual claims to have received hate mail (or mail of any kind) via a website link. Thank-you for your time. Remember to send your answers to my sanity quiz to the e-mail account, [email protected] Oh, and once I refer to myself in the first person again, the handbook quote is over. I just thought that I might like to mention that. Oh. You're still here. I figured you rush right on over to e-mail me. Perhaps you don't have time to waste e-mailing me. HA! HA! HA! That's funny!!!! If you you don't have time to waste, what are you doing here?!!! Oh, who am I kidding. I figure that even the people I manage to lure onto my site from neopets don't even bother to come to this particular page. Maybe I should make the link come here directly...Hey! What a good idea! That way I can spread my love, joy and insane chaos to more people! I'm a genius. Gotta go, must lure innocent victems to the second most pointless site ever!!!! I'm back. And really angry, and confused. I've always known that I was weird, that's always been a given. But now I realize that I am considerably more normal than the rest of my family. Today we had a "family outing." Now, most families will go bowling, or putt-putt golfing. They may go to a resteraunt with an arcarde, or the movies or to a theme park. Not my family! No, we got the greatest family outing of all. We got to go to a bar and play pool!!!!!*waits for readers to become insanely jealous* Yep, that's right, a bar with a pool table! Not only did we get world class cuisine (under-cooked hotdogs and over-cooked hamburgers), my little sister (age 10) got taught pool by someone I strongly supect is an ex-convict! Naturally when it was announced that we'd be eating dinner in this place, I could hardly contain my excitment(I glared at my mother and asked why we couldn't go to Pizza Hut) When we arrived, we were promptly served (after thirty minutes) In the meantime, we played a family game of pool(my parents played while my brother and sister and I watched) After two rousing rounds, our food came. The food was superb, (our food came the exact opposite of how we ordered it, and half of the onion rings were missing) Then we joyfully returned to our game(my sister and the ex-con played my mom) We spent hours there (from 5p.m.-7:15p.m.) There were many people that were the same age as me and my siblings (no one in the room but us were under 30) Us kids had to be dragged kicking and screaming from the bar ( I almost fell asleep during the last game I watched) As we left, there was a feeling of goodwill and fellowship between all(my sister locked me out of the car and wouldn't let me in untill I started yelling profanity in her general direction) The high point of the entire night was when my mother gave me $21 for my report card. She promptly borrowed $1 to help with the waitresses tip(This part I'm not being sarcastic about) All in all it was a night I'll remember forever (as the lowest point in "family outing"history, except for that time my mom dragged me to a church thing on the concept of truth.) My brother(age 13) even decided upon a new job he wants when he's old enough to work, a busboy at the bar. We had to tell him that he would probley have to wait untill he was 21.(Absolutly nothing about that statement was sarcastic) As you can see, I love my families outings(Not unless you're blind...or stupid) &#!#%&&!!!(*%$ WHAT THE %$#@ WAS MY MOTHER $#$#%$# THINKING!!!!!!!???? BRINGING $#$$# KIDS IN A BAR!? I know it was her idea, 'cause my dad hates it, too. My mom and my stupid little 10-year old sister loves it, though. *sighs* Why does my life have to be so weird? I'm leaving...now I'm back! And not so pissed at my weird family. Now is the time to mourn the loss of one of my most loyal readers (I think she's read the entire thing one time, which is more than anyone else has done so far) She has been banned from accesing any portion of the Internet, do to reasons that must remain confidental due to security reasons. If I told you, I'd have to kill you and all that stuff. So...now I am down to one and a half readers. Untill such time that I have more. I wonder why anyone would read this? You would have to have several characteristics that I possess. First of all, you'd have to have an extrodinary amount of free time. Second of all, you would have to have the patience to read through all of this. And lastly, you'd have to know where the heck this site is. I admit it. I haven't exactly advertised this site. Nor can I find it on any search engines. Some of my pages have stuff written in to make search engines recognize me, but it doesn't seem to be working. What must I do to rise above obscurity? I tell people I know about this site, but they either ignore this page, or don't even bother coming to the site in the first place. I suppose that is the bane of all authors. To pour your heart and soul into a passage, and have everyone ignore it. *sniffle* Why must this be? Maybe I should just give up. After all, no one would really care if I quit updating this site. But I can't help but think of stuff like the evil over lord list and REALLY REALLY BIG BUTTON THAT DOESN'T DO ANYTHING. They are not great neccesarily because of the content, (although that helps some) they are great because of their sheer length. You can read a little each day. And almost never finish. Also, I guess I still am trying to get the world record. I have heard some feedback suggesting that I make someway for people to remember where they stopped reading. It can be very confusing, especially if you weren't paying attention in the first place. Well, I dont want to organize this page, in any manner. This is chaos. And insanity. Not neat little text in classifiable rows, in alphabetical order. If you want neat, go to some other site(though, as mentioned in Flaming Chickens Code:472 there is no such thing as a site better than this one). Otherwise, I guess you're stuck with me. Awwwww...I'm touched! You didn't run screaming to another site, thankfull for the chance to escape this insanity. You're still here, which must mean that you'd rather be here than anywhere else! Hey, where are you going?! I thought you were gonna stay here and keep me company?! *drags reader back* See, I knew you'd stay! *gagged reader glares* What's that? I know this is the best site ever, thanks for the compliment! *reader starts inching towards freedom* I better go...I think that I may have a problem brewing. I'm back. And very concerned about this new, younger generation (all 10 year olds who were born in 1992) They are supposed to be the future. Instead they appear to be a nuclear armagedon in the form of a fifth grader. I chanced to have an interview with an informant from this evil generation (my little sister) who will be called Mrs. X for security reasons (no, she's not married, the "Mrs" makes it good as a disguise) I was quizing Mrs. X on Civil War History for an upcoming test in her classroom (whose location can not be devulged) Mrs. X seemed fluent in the subject. Using prior knowledge, I deduced that Mrs. X was full of crap. Out of sheer curiosity, I asked Mrs. X who participated in the Civil War. She immediatly replied "Clara Barton". I clarified, which countries fought in the Civil War. She answered: England, Russia, and (out of sheer desperation) Iraq. I believe that she was just listing countries she knows America has fought against. Now, correct me if I'm wrong...but Iraq? I don't know if Iraq even existed in the Civil War Era! Why on earth would we go have way across the world to fight them when we didn't even really need oil?!! Moving on, I finaly managed to coax my sister (I'm tired of writing Mrs. X) to tentativly guess that America fought in the Civil War. I mean, who'd a thought? America? Fighting in the American Civil War? In a moment of inspiration, I asked her who America fought. Her first guess was enslaved africans. Well, at least she knows that slaves were involved in the war. Before she could start listing all of America's enemies, I gave her a hint. I said "The Union fought..." With a crack, snaple and pop, some random synapses in her brain connected in the right order and she said "CONFEDERACY!!!" I was very proud of her, just as you would be proud of a two-year-old who has just announced: "I WENT POO-POO ON THE POTTY!!!!!" What I mean is, you wouldn't be very proud if the average person said that they just took a dookey on the toilet, and you wouldn't be very proud if they knew who fought against the Union in the Civil War. I confirmed that the Union was Northern and Free, and that the Confederacy was Southern and Slave. We resumed quizzing and she got every question on the worksheet correct. This is because she memorizes the questions. That way, she can pass the test without actually learning anything. You see, if you memorize stuff, you only have to remember that the answer to number 6 is Clara Barton for a week, rather than having to remember that Clara Barton started the Red Cross for the rest of you life. I sincerely appologize if anyone is offended by my view of memorization. I also would like such persons to immediatly leave my site. You don't belong here. You see...knowledge is good. If my sister...uh...Mrs. X were ever asked a question on the Civil War on a quiz show, she'd come up with nothing. With knowledge you can win money and the opportunity to look like a dork on national television. My sister is a big believer in the memorization system. I previous time when I was studying with her (American Revolution, this time) I was trying to help her remember the difference between the Patriots(Patriotic to America) and the Loyalists (Loyal to Britain) She didn't know what the word patriotic meant. I tried to explain. I asked her how you dress on the forth of july (she said nice) I asked what the colors red, white and blue were (pretty). I gave up in exasperation. More recently, I was trying to instill a sense of empathy and niceness in her. I asked her what the golden rule of christianity was. She didn't know. When I pressed her, she confessed she didn't know what chrisianity was. Completly defeated, I told her that it was the religion she practiced every Sunday when she went with her friends to church. This confirmed my suspicion that she only went so that she could have the use of the church's playground equipment. My family also strongly suspects that she stole $20 from the donation thingy. Anyway, that's my rant on the new generation that contains my little sister. When someone of her generation runs for president, I'm gonna do a complete background check. If they're anything like my sister, I'm movin' to Canada. Gotta go...the Russian-Brittish-Iraqi-enslaved-Africans are coming to defeat the Mexicans. I'm back! *there's that darn cricket again* And I have a genuine question to ask all of my loyal readers *cough-cough* Okay, here it is: Is it normal for a non-gender specific sibling to carry around various dead reptiles (snakes, turtles, lizards etc.) Furthormore, is it considered accepted behavior to talk to these dead reptiles, in a cooey, baby talky kind of voice? Finnaly, is it expected for said sibling's non-gender specific parent to encourage such behavior, citing "I was just like that as a child" as an excuse? It's an honest question as I fear that my non-gender specific sibling is weird. Who am I kidding? My entire family is weird. It's just a matter of degree. Hey, by the way. I'm sorry that my last few entries have been only about my various family antics. Although I can't see why you care, because there is a large probability that you do not exist, because I don't think anyone is reading this anymore. How discouraging. People need to make the time to waste time. It's a time honored tradition. Who'd thought that I could use time that many times in only a few sentences? It's been pretty quiet here lately, which is why I haven't added anything to this text in awhile. I know, you were just crushed that nothing new was happening. It's a sad, cold, cruel world out there and you had nothing to relieve the monotony of it. *sniffle* I feel so sorry for you! Next thing you know, you're internet connection will die. Well, too bad! Do you know I never even had a computer untill just a few months ago (that's why I'm obsessivly writing here) So I won't pity you if you're computer dies for unexpected reasons. Time for another quote from the FLAMING CHICKEN HANDBOOK!!! Code: 843 of the Flaming Chicken Handbook states that in no way is the Patron Saint of Paper Clips (guess who?) responsible for any faulty wiring or lack thereof in your computer. The Patron Saint of Paper Clips in no way wishes harm on your computer. Any derogatory statement is simply an opinion of an individual, not of the flaming order of the flaming chickens. Said order will in no way be held responsible for any damages, injuries, loss of life, limb, head, or organs. Okay, quote is done. Maybe I should put quotation marks around them...nah, too much work. But I probably will eventually get around to having a seperate page just for the FLAMING CHICKEN HANDBOOK. That way all the members (what members) can print out a copy of it for themselves (if they didn't get that copy in the mail) I guess I'm done for the day...I know. You want me to stay. It's okay. Because eventually, I'll be back! Seeya! I'm back. And once again suprised. When I was at a TAB poetry thingy (TAB is good TAB is great We love TAB) I met some new people. One of these people (who shall remain nameless untill such time that I have explicit permission to use her name) turned out to be almost as weird as me. As in...she read the ENTIRE Longest Text Ever. The whole thing. So far two whole people (to my knowledge) have read the entire thing, and a few people have skimmed it. That means I really can justify claiming to have two and a half readers! I'm so happy! That means my pointless obsession has actually entertained someone besides me! Perhaps, one day, far in the future, this will actually be a world record and random people will acutally voluntarily read this text every day. Or maybe not. The point is that it is nice to have readers. Or maybe it's not...I mean...won't the quality *snicker* of my work deteriorate if I am no longer writing for the target audience of me? If that happens, then no one will read this. And then I'll be writing for me again. And then the quality will rise. And then people will start reading. And then the quality will go down and the vicious spiral of good and bad will continue untill I either give up this text, or go crazy...er. In any case...I should probably find a topic. Yeah...a topic would be good. Or...I could just continue to write about finding a topic. Ooooo! I know a topic! Ice cream trucks! This has been bothering me for a while. You see...when it's hot, you want something cold to eat. Conviently, ice cream trucks come around during the hottest part of the year (it must be a conspiracy). As you may or may not know, small children swarm the ice cream trucks. The vendors even play whimsical music which I strongly suspect contains subliminal messages to make you hungry for ice cream. The vendors get oodles of cash, and the kids get ice cream. Now, in today's society of buying groceries on-line and getting them delivered, why hasn't any other food industry marketed this ingenius idea to bring the product to the consumer. I can just see Hot Dog, and Pizza trucks roaming the neighbor hoods, selling treats to hungry children...and adults. Of course, said adults would have to peel their butt-cheeks off the couch...but they'd have to do that for the delivary man anyway. The food trucks could even play music that made you hungry for their food. Then the problem with obesity in America would be blamed on evil food truck drivers as opposed to the harmless, benificient television and computer. We could all breath a sigh of relief as parents kept their children inside, away from the evil truck drivers and near the T.V. Gone would be the days when parents told children to play outside, it's a nice day. Parents would buy their children computers, video games and other television neccesities. This, of course would expand the market for such products. This would lead to a better, more stable economy. Food industires would be buying cars, gas and music. Parents would increase the purchase of entertainment items. In return companies would make a profit, pay their workers better. The workers would then be able to afford more entertainment items and the upward spiral would continue, as opposed to the evil downward spiral of my writing. In conclusion, Ladies and Gentlemen...if you implement my idea, there will be peace and prosperity for all. As long as you don't mind a few more couch potatoes. Gotta go...I think I hear a catchy jingle. I'm back...it's been awhile since I've written here. A lot has happened. Like my EVIL school computer deleting my updates page. But it's all good. Especially since I just saw The Matrix: Reloaded. The following text may spoil the movie for you, so WARNING: do no read this unless you have already seen the movie. Okay. What I liked best was the philosophy on choices. (the mindless fight scenes were really cool, too). It's like this. In the beginning of the movie, Neo is having dreams about Trinity's death. Later, The Oracle tells him that he has already decided her fate. Towards the end of the movie, Neo chooses to tell Trinity to stay out of the Matrix, since he saw her die in it. She agrees, but only after seeing how important it is to him. After a horrific chain of events (is it coincidence, or fate) the people who will deactivate the secondary power source of the building Neo is infiltrating, die. So...the plan is going to fail. Unless someone does something, Neo, Morpheus and many others will die. Trinity, who is of course outside of the Matrix, knows this and chooses to enter the Matrix to save the day. The events of Neo's dream unfold. So...when the oracle said that the choice had already been made, she was completely correct. The moment Neo woke from dreams of Trinity's death, he made a choice. He would do everything in his power to keep his dream from becoming reality. So he kept her out of the Matrix, and she saw the problem, and entered the Matrix to fix it. If she had been in the Matrix, she would have likely been with Morpheus, never would have known about the plan's failure, would therefore not have been in the situation that resulted in her death. And the plan would have failed and Neo might have died, along with a large portion of the city (the building was set to blow if there was any intruders) So...Neo's choice to attempt to save Trinity triggered the sequence of events that led to her death. As Neo realizes all of this, through a nearly omniscient Architect of the Matrix, he makes another choice. This choice is simply an extension of his original choice: he will save Trinity at all costs. Neo is told that he has two choices. He can save mankind, and doom Trinity. Or he can try to save Trinity and doom mankind. No guarantee that he'll succeed in saving Trinity. He goes for Trinity, makes it just in time to catch her body, and starts her heart back up. In return for not taking the easy route, he gains a power in the more or less real world. He can deactivate the machines, (squidies) but at great personal cost. The movie ends with him in a coma. Now, you must realize that I have described only one aspect of this movie of all movies. There are not enough words in the English language to describe the sheer coolness of the fight choreography, special effects and the plot. I highly recommend you see the movie yourself. I'm sorry that today's rant isn't random, insane or completely chaotic, but I must right my experience with The Matrix before I forget. I am so buying this movie when it comes out on DVD. I love it! You have to admit its sheer coolness. I mean, come on! It's the sequel to the movie that revolutionized the standard by which we judge special effects. I better stop typing before I have a heart attack...just remember...The Matrix has you...I'm back. And throughly pissed off at my school system in general. You see...they feel that the only way to reward academic achievement...yada-yada-yada...is to force the smart kids to be ushers for Senior Honor Nite, and Graduation. Where is the logic in this? I for one, didn't know about such dire consequences for not deliberatly failing classes. It was bad enough that I was forced to "volunteer" my precious time (i could have worked on this site)...no...I was forced to wear formal attire. My school system is stuck in the past...and formal attire means...a dress...a white dress...(for those you who never bothered to find out...I am indeed female). So...for the first time in about 5 years...I wore a dress...and something that was complelty white. What cruel fate is this? To compound the EVIL situation...I was forced to wear feminine shoes. In other words...they hurt. And they pushed my toes together. Since I have a rather weird phobia of touching my own skin...this made my evening my own personall torture session. I think that such gender-specific torture should be deemed inhumane and abolished from our great society...of flaming chickens. Henceforth...Code: 666 of the Flaming Chickens Handbook states that under no circumstance will the Patron Saint of Paper Clips (guess who) be forced to wear anything other than a t-shirt and preferably black jeans. Should you violate this right, you will become destroyed or possibly dizzy. I'm leaving now...I have some destruction to do. i'm back. from graduation. we had to get there one hour and fifteen minutes early because there was traffic. After standing around a lot...the ceremony started. Lots of people spoke. by the time I had to do my part (tell people where to stand before getting their diploma) it was dark. there were bugs. they liked landing on me. then...i got to go stand while people said a lot of stuff. i couldn't hear it because someone had put the speakers facing the audience. we clapped. the whole time, even during the name-calling, seniors were playing with silly string and beachballs. afterwards...they turned off the lights. there were lots of fireworks. i wandered around for 20 minutes looking for a cell phone. i called home, and waited another hour for my ride...traffic to the school was one way. i felt sorry for my dad. i am tired...but cannot go to sleep. i'll copy and paste this to my site. maybe the longest text ever. you will all suffer as i have suffered when and if you graduate. i cannot feel my feet. i hate dress shoes. I'm back. Today, I'm here to salute the Pointless Signs Of America! The PSOA have been whole-heartedly working for you, and what have you done for them? NOTHING! These so-called "pointless" signs are doing just what they were meant to do: entertain you! You cannot judge them simply because they have no apparant function. They expand your mind, making you think about all the things they could do. They could do anything they wanted to, if they just put their minds to it. If you judged everything by what it doesn't acomplish, then the entire world is populated by pointless beings. Noone can do everything, so how can you expect a SIGN, with the I.Q. of toilet paper, to do everything. You people sicken me. You expect far to much of the inanimate world. The inanimate world, on the otherhand, expects nothing of you. Which is exactly what it gets. If you expect nothing, and get nothing, you feel nothing. If you expect nothing and get something, you're happy. But, if you expect something and get something you feel nothing. And if you expect something and get nothing, you feel cheated. If you're following along, and not completly confused, you'll realize that it is better to be a pessimist than an optomist. Yep that's right. This entry went from saluting the PSOA to making a statement about my ideals. This has been a weird day. You can thank my associate "Meg" she came up with the PSOA acronym. Everyone, clap for "Meg".I gotta go...seeya later! I'm finnaly back! Today, I took a long look at this site, which is the acomplishment of almost a year of work. And I asked myself "How could I have better spent my time?" And so, in the interest of wasting even more time, I made a list. Here we go! Number One: I could have cured cancer. Not that I know anything about medicine...or cancer for that matter. But I'm sure that if I just would have put my mind to it, I could have done it. Number Two: I could helped the earth to find eternal and lasting peace. Which would be boring. So I at least have an excuse for not doing that. Number Three: I could have studied and stuff. Uh...don't think so...Number Four: I could have learned to drive. This would have resulted in the deaths of numerous pedistrians...and I would still probably be wondering around in search of a McDonalds. Number Five: I could have read more books, played more video games and watched more mindless television. Gee...I wish I'd thought of that sooner. Number Six: I could have implemented one of several plans for world domination. Or, as an alternative, I could have ruined several plans for world domination that other people made. Number Seven: I could drive people crazy. Wait...aren't I already doing that? Scratch number seven. And on to: Number Eight: I could have...uhhhh...ummmmm...actually thought up these things before hand. Number Nine: Now it's just getting redundant, isn't it? Number Ten: This is the list that never ends. Yes, it goes on and on my friend. One person, started typing it not knowing what it was, and they'll continue typing it forever just because this is the list that never ends, yes it goes on and on my friends, some person started typing it not...etc, etc. Okay...I admit it. I have officialy run out of ways I could have better spent my time. I don't think there actually are any. Except for maybe five and six. Now, those have possibilities. However, I am currently content to just sit here and type. For the benefit of you, the reader...who may or may not exist. Either way, I'm continuing to sort of entertain myself. I feel like I should be outraged about some topic or another. I just can't work up the energy to be outraged. Perhaps a nice, soothing mistrust. Yeah. I can work with mistrust. I definitly mistrust lots of stuff. Like organ grinders, and the evil conspiracies. Did you know, that Kodak was part of the conspiracy to assasinate John F. Kennedy. Now, some of you are probably thinking "Gee, Really?", or "Wow, I never knew that!" while others are thinking "Who's John F. Kennedy?" or possibly "Who or What is Kodak". I fervently hope that you're not thinking the last two...especially about Kodak. Kodak, as you may know, is a film developing company. And John F. Kennedy (JFK) was an alien bent on global domination. Or possibly a really good president who wanted to fly to the moon. Either way, he got assasinated. And ever loony in America decided that it was a conspiracy. Some even go so far as to claim that Kodak "changed" the pictures of the assasination to make an assasination in the bushes become a tree's shadow. I didn't know that they had such good technology back then. I have to wonder...why would Kodak do such a thing. Perhaps Kodak is actually a front organization for a shadowy governmental system that controls the entire world and didn't want mankind to obtain the freedom of the stars and so tried to sabotauge the space program even though it didn't work as well as they planned. Or perhaps not. Either way, Kodak is undeniably evil. How can any company that takes so many "wholesome" pictures not be? You can just bet that they look at every one that get's turned in to them, judging blackmail value, and whether or not you could get arrested. It's just sickening, you can't even take a simple photo nowadays. Unless you have a digital camera, which are a symbol of freedom from the old ways and willing enslavement to the new ways. We can only hope that the digital camera manufacturers are kinder masters than the evil Kodak Lords. I better go...I think Kodak is tracing my site....I'm back now! And, once again, I have proof that someone actually took the time (two hours) to read this entire Longest Text Ever! It's amazing, it's incredible, it's unbelievable. But true. Even more incredible, this time it's someone I don't even know! Wooooooo! I feel inspired and happy and other really good emotions and stuff. And so, I'll take a trip down memory lane, to the dark depths of the past, to when I decided to make this page. It was inspired, in part, by my sheer and utter boredom. In school, back before I even owned a computer, I'd type random words for long periods of time, 'cause I had nothing better to do. Once I got this computer, I decided to do something similar on my beloved site. But, it ended up making more sense than I anticipated (scary thought, huh). Oh, well...I tired of nostalgia. Back to the present. Right now, I'm just typing so that no one can say that I've been slacking off. I don't think I have any conspiracy theories...except pop-ups/pop-unders. Have you ever had the evil pop-up that says that if you click here, it'll get rid off all the annoying pop-ups? Isn't that sort of ironic? Could the pop-up blocker people have chosen a better means to advertise their product? It's like grand-theft auto 3's talk show, you know, the one where there are Citizens Raging Against Phones? Or CRAP, for short. And the lady representing them, calls the radio station...on a phone. It's stupid and ironic and just shouldn't exist in a better world. Pop-Up ad's help you get rid of pop-up ads? Insane, chaotic...hmmmmm...I wonder who thought of it? Was it on purpose, or was it just some mistake? It is now my civic duty to discover this ancient mystery, and reveal it to the uncaring world. Or maybe I'll go make a frozen pizza. Yeah. That sounds good, too. Since I'm not particualarly inspired at the moment, I should leave and let you gather what is left of your sanity. I just can't seem to stop, though. Okay...I can do it. I'm leaving. I'm back...and it's several hours later. I've decided to imortalize the stupidity of my dog, Moose. She is a heavy-set Yorkshire Terrior (12 lbs.) In otherwords, she's a small yappy dog who is big for her breed. Today, I met her arch-enemy. An enemy so terrifying that Moose cannot stop shaking. An enemy so hideous that Moose must destroy it at all costs. An enemy so dangerous that Moose fears it above all others. Now you may be wondering what horrible beast is Moose's arch-enemy. And you probably suspect that it is something pathetic. You would be correct in your suspiciousness...for Mooses arch-enemy is...*dramatic drumroll*...a small, white, feather. Now, Moose has seen many feathers, birds even. But none have struck terror in her little moose heart like this particular feather. So...naturally I put her arch-enemy in my pocket and brought it home with me. This action has made her very suspicious of where my loyalties lie. She tracks the feather smell all over the house, and goes crazy whenever I take it out of my pocket. She even got her sister and mother in the spirt of things. Now her sister sounds an alarm whenever she sees the evil feather. Now, you may be wondering what is so terrifying about a small, white, feather. So am I. It doesn't smell funny, (I asked my brother, since I don't have a sense of smell), it seems perfectly ordinary. So, I've decided that Moose works for some secret government organization, and that the feather is the key to the destruction of the world, and I am just blithely letting it enter our home, so that it may furthur its evil plans to destroy the universe. That is the only possible explanation as to why it upsets her so much. Or...maybe it's the feather off of the cartoon owl from the tootsie-roll pop comercials (one...two...three..*crunch*). Whatever the case, I decided that the whole world, (or three of four random people) deserve to know that if the world and or universe are destroyed, it's the evil, little, white, feather's fault. Now I'd better go and torture my Moose with it...:) I am officially back. And you, the potentially non-existant reader gets a once in a lifetime chance to hear me rant and rave about my Horrible, Horrible Family Vacation. I know. You feel very, very honored. It's like this. My mother is a control freak, and she decided on the spur of the moment that we were going north to visit relatives. Later that day, she decided we were NOT going north, we were going south to a beach resort. Still later that day, she got offended at some trivial thing and decided that we weren't going anywhere at all. The very next day, she decided that we were going north, after all. So, we packed everthing up. Before we knew it, we were on the road. The first part of the trip was fairly easy. As in, I was half-asleep, hoping that we'd arrive while I slept. Then, in an inspired move, my brother talked my mother into letting him sit up front. That meant that my mother would be in the back, with me and my younger, eviler sister. Immediatly, my mother started complaining. It was uncomfortable in the back, it was too hot, it was too cold. Then, she accidently woke our three yappy dogs up, and they relized that they were in a car. That meant only one corse of action for them. They started shaking and barked their little heads off. This annoyed my mother further, untill she asked, no, demanded that my father turn the car around so that we could go home. Unfortuantly, we had already driven 337 miles toward our destination. After much argument, my father was going to turn around, untill he realized that my mother was going to drop the dogs and me off, and then turn around and continue north. This seemed slightly unpracticle, so we ended up not taking that 337 mile detour. We eventually reached our destination after 16 hours of virtually non-stop driving. We got there, we ate. We slept. My mother visited relatives. And so the week went by. I got to go to a huge library, and see Terminator 3 at the local theater. That was the high point of the entire trip. The last day, we were deciding where to eat. My mom said that she didn't care. So my dad picked a steak place. My mother tried to order a mushroom-swiss burger...only to discover that the place had no swiss-cheese. So she decided on a salad, only to discover that they didn't have her favorite salad dressing. After much deliberation, she decided that she wouldn't eat. After complaining how hungry she was, and about the poor quality of the resteraunt, she walked out of the resteraunt, instructing the rest of us to "enjoy our meals". And I wonder where my little sister gets her annoyingness. Not that my mother is annoying...just set in her ways. The whole meal thing was about the only interesting thing to happen during the week. On the way home, we had gotten approximatly 4 hours into the trip when my mother predicatably decided that we had to go back and eat at the 50th aniversary of her favorite ice cream place. Needless to say, we ignored her. Oh, and when my sister had to go to the bathroom very badly during a traffic jam, my mother had the good taste to making hissing/water noises to make my sister's problem worse. She claimed that my little sister always did it to her, and she was getting pay-back. Between her bickering with my sister, and obsessivly playing neopets games, I don't know what to do with her. Anyway...that was my family vacation rant. It sucked. No suprise. At least it's over. Sorry if I complained a lot. If you don't like it, start your own longest text ever. Anyway, I promise to go back to my usual routine the next time I rant here. I thought of a topic on the way home, but forgot it. Seeya. I'm back! I know, I took you completly by suprise. You thought you'd gotten rid of me. *cheesy super-hero voice* Well, fear not, random citizen, for I, PSOPC am here! *normal voice* Today I have a very important to discuss with you in this: PERFECTLY NORMAL PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCMENT. Yes, that's right. It's time to warn you, the viewer...er...reader...about the evils of various stuff. Today's lesson is: subliminal messages . That's right, folks, mass hypnosis via commercials. Now, I'm sure you've at least heard of subliminal messages , right? No? Well...prepare to be enlightened. Subliminal messages are an advertising technique that puts hidden pictures and words into a main image. You don't see them, but your subconsious (dreaming) mind does. Your subconsious mind acts on whatever it is told. What does this mean to you? It means that WAL-MART TV IS EVIL! EVIIIIIIIIIIIIL!!!!!! Why else would they invest all that money to show commercials in their own store? Because they put subliminal messages in them, of course! Subliminal messanging also explains the successes of certain fast-food resteraunts, and brand name items. BEWARE YOUR TOASTER OVEN! Okay. That had nothing to do whatsoever with subliminal messages...it's just cool to say. Anyway, only watch wal-mart if you WANT to be subliminaly entertained into purchasing a new set of TUPERWARE, even though your old set is PERFECTLY fine. This has been a public service announcment. Pretty cool, huh? Uh...you don't have to take the subliminal stuff seriously. It's true, and all, but I have no proof about wal-mart, or certain fast food resteraunts. It makes sense, though. Wal-mart TV is evil. You cannot deny it. Seeya...hmmm..I wonder if there's subliminal stuff in my computer...I'm back. And I feel that it's time for a FAKE commercial break, for the highly informed, obviously brain-dead consumer. And now, a word from our non-existant sponsor. Ketchup: The only food that you'll want to eat after traveling to the 5th Dimension. It's been practically proven that Ketchup transforms into a highly intoxicating (non-addictive) delicious substance upon returning from the 5th Dimension. Stock up now with our Valu-Pak to recieve 3-metric tons of Ketchup, all for the low, low price of your brain, since you're obviously not using it anyway. Then, just wait for technology to "catch-up" (get it, catch-up, Ketchup?)so you can travel to the 5th Dimension like our scientists almost did. (Next Commercial) Get ready fo: Faux's new "reality" TV show, "How Low Can We Go?" It's about six contestants who compete to create the worst, least likely "reality" TV show. The winner not only gets the million-dollar prize, they get the chance to produce the show they created. Remember: if the show sucks, it's their fault, not ours!(Next exciting commercial!)And for all the idiots out there: Try new and improved Dum-B-Gon! Dum-B-Gon stimulates brain activity, making you up to 10 times smarter! Not only that, Dum-B-Gon: stimulates weight loss, cures "any" illness, does simple houshold chores, never leaves the toilet seat up and is the perfect gentle companion for your kids. How can you pass up this revolutionary new product? It's yours for only 3 bi-monthly payments of $3.95 ($3,95,000 on days ending in "y")Don't forget, Dum-B-Gon is practically guaranteed!* (*Not a guarantee) (Next commercial)Have you ever wondered why food sometimes goes bad in your fridge, even if you've only had it a few years? It's because of the "evil little faeries with sharp little teeth." These "faeries" sprinkle your food with highly toxic "age dust" and ruin a perfectly good four-year-old meatloaf. How do you stop them? With our patented "spray". Our "spray" kills over 99.9% of "faeries" (which are much to small to see) Our "spray" also kills most disease causing agents, like rats, or pigeons. WARNING: Leave food sit in an open, well-venilated spot for a week before eating. And now, back to our featured presentation. Wasn't that semi-entertaining? I bet you wanna go eat some Ketchup covered Dum-B Gon right now, while watching "reality" TV. Just make sure you "spray" your food first. Pathetic, wasn't it? Oh, well. I was bored, and a dilligent reader suggested I make fake commercials, so...therer they are. Happy? Good. I'm leavin', for now. I'm back. And I'm willing to enlighten you, the potentially you-know-what reader. Today, I was checking out some weird news. At one point, I read an article that stated that it had been proven, conclusivly, that Kansas was flatter than the standard pancake. The researches even used highly advanced technololgy to map the surface of a pancake and compare it to documented geology of Kansas. Some people disagree, the director of the Kansas Geological Survey said "I think this is part of a vast breakfast food conspiracy to denigrate Kansas. It's a cheap shot." So...doesn't that make you want to take Kansas' side (I sincerly appologize if you are from Kansas). It just seems extremly weird (and worthy of mentioning) that this semi-important guy from Kansas believes in a "vast breakfast food conspiracy". Makes you think that the long held belief that Kodak conspired with the JFK assasin(s) is normal. Another article claims that an anitseptic turned a polar bear purple, drawing large crowds of people. I sure hope other zoos won't copy them. Before you know it, we'll have orange alligators, pink tigers and blue lions. School children won't be able to correctly identify the color of a zebra. Random people will think they've gone crazy, after a seemingly innocent visit to the zoo. It's wrong, I tell you. A complete and total degregation of our societies values. What values, you say? The basic moral belief that Polar bears should be WHITE. Unless we spray-painted the snow purple, too. Then it would be okay. As long as the bear blends in, you know? Speaking of animals, there's a cat in California who is a kleptomaniac (likes to steal stuff). He sneaks into neighboring homes, and takes clothing, wrapped christmas presents, and anything he can find. He then leaves them under his owners car. Okay, better leave. I'm back. And I don't really have a topic today. I'm just bored. Sometimes I just do this, you know? Start typing without any idea about what it is I intend to say. Maybe I subconsiously DO know what I'm doing here, but refuse to admit it to myself. Or maybe I am monumentally bored and don't have anything else to do at the moment. Either way, I'm here. You must be pretty bored, too. Otherwise, why on earth (beta, krpto, zkdjf, Planet X, whatever) would you be here? It would make no sense. If you have something better to do, why wouldn't you be doing it right now? I would be. But, maybe that's just the difference between you and me. Yeah. That must be it. Unless you're bored. Then I completly understand. I need to find a topic. Here, topic, topic, topic! Come on, I won't hurt you, I promise! *hides large ax behind back* Come here, topic! Why are you afraid of little ol' me? *sigh* There are no topics anywhere near me. Kinda like me and "Meg" webcomic we are trying to do. It's called Hit-Or-Miss, any topics, plot, etc. are completly accidental and are not the fault/responsibility of the creators. That was sort of a topic, even though it was sort of random. Which is what I do best. Okay, I'm done with that litte commercial. What now...hmmmmm...should I share with you more of my paranoid/delusional conspiracy theories? Or have I been doing that too much lately? Oooooo! I know, I'll start of list of why it's fun/good to be insane/weird! #1You can say or do anything and normal people will agree with you in the hopes that you'll be satisfied, shut up, and go away. Far away. I will show you an example with this completly true stuff that I experienced several years ago. ME: My vicious, psychotic, flesh-eating bunny-rabbit wants to rule the world. RANDOM PERSON: Uh-huh, that's nice. ME: Yeah, but I told her that she'd be a terible ruler. I mean, she traded Asia for a carrot! And she doesn't even LIKE carrots! RANDOM PERSON: You don't say? ME: Yep. She also is the goddess of red jello. RANDOM PERSON: *head explouding from sheer insanity* As you can see, I was a very weird child (this happened in elementary school...uh...except for that head-explouding part). Okay...on to: #2 You can get out of practically anything by saying: a)It's against my religion b)I'm allergic to that. c)I have an extremly irrational fear of that. d)I already did that in a past life and it sucked. e)My psychotic bunny predicted I'd die doing it. Unfortunalty, several of those reasons LEGITAMITLY apply to a certain activity I do every Tuesday, which WILL NOT BE NAMED HERE LEST I GIVE IT POWER OVER ME! I'm allergic to parts of it, have irrational fears about others and I'm pretty sure it's against my Jenny religion...along with eating mashed potatoes, or potatoes of any kind. I'll add that to the FLAMING CHICKENS HANDBOOK. Thou shalt not eat spuds. Hmmmm...time for #3You can obsessive over ANYTHING, and people will think nothing of it. I, personally, am obsessed with, kitties, bunnies, bats, this website, drawing, making intriate little patterns with strings, doing mildly repetitive activities, being weird, apparantly making lists and cheese...and chickens...and flame. Fire is good. Fire is free. Fire is my friend...until it burns me. Then it must die...painfully. And on to:#4You make your friends look normal in comparison. And #5: You can give each of your pets several weird names such as: Ringling-Raison-Bailey-Suzana-Midnight-Schultz, Squirell, Moose, Moose-Moose, Moosey-Moose, Linzey-Moose, Muffin, Squirell-Muffin, Yabby-Doodle, Abby Normal, Wiggle-Baby, Wiggle-Muffin, Witle-Baby, Cheese-Monkey, Muffin-With-Squirell-Juice, Squirell-With-Muffin Juice, Moosey-Juice, Squirell-Monkey, etc. Now, wasn't that a fun list!? Doesn't that just make you proud to be weird? I should make bumber stickers saying that. Proud to be weird. It'd be cool. Anyway, gotta go! *yawn* I'm back. Last night I was super-charged with lots of sugar and not a lot of sleep. I ended up writing things during the time of night when EVERYTHING is hilarious, including the word sheep. To compound things, I wasn't alone, and things just escalated. The following is everything I wrote during that sugar-coated time period. Some are answers to e-mails, the rest are just stuff I wrote.

Definitly. THen we go to library. Guess what? Me and Josh ate lots and lots of sugar, and it's late at nite and everything is funny but we can't laugh 'cause everybody is sleepin' so it's even funnier but ever since we drank the water we sobered up even though we weren't drunk but we ate sugar...lots and lots of sugar. MOstly donut cake. Okay. JOsh says it was only one piece of cake. WE got it at Wal-mart. Or his mom did. OR something. Goodbye..

#long post

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psycho-slytherin · 6 years ago

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Strangers ch. 26

You see Xiumin again, and the drama is off to an interesting start.

Pairing: Yoongi x (female) Reader

Word count: 2.4k

Genre: Fluff

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Yoongi freezes. “Wh-what?”

His bewilderment is so adorable that you can’t possibly keep from laughing. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding, oh my god.”

Yoongi exhales loudly, as though he had been holding his breath. “Dumbass, you scared me.”

You pout. “Is the idea of kissing me that terrifying?” You’re joking, of course.

When Yoongi speaks his voice is low, half strangled.

“I mean, we’ll both only be acting, right?”

You blink once, twice. “Right, only acting...” you scratch your head, chuckling weakly. His flat tone is off-putting somehow. “Man, once this drama starts your fans are gonna keep going off–”

“Keep?”

Uh-oh. You instantly realize your mistake, backpedaling clumsily.

“I mean, I just meant, uh... you know, I guess ARMYs can be kind of... harsh? I’m only assuming,” you rush to add.

“Y/n... have you been getting hate from our fans?”

You gulp. Yoongi doesn’t follow you on Twitter, since he’s only online with the BTS account. If he hears the type of comments you’ve been receiving, he’ll worry, and his dorky ass might actually try to do something about it.

“Are you kidding? Of course not. I’d tell you if anything was bothering me,” you laugh, booping his nose playfully. The falsehood tugs at you, wrestling with your conscience, but you refuse to let it get to you. Of every lie you’ve told, this one isn’t bad.

“Anyways, I have hella homework and now that I have, you know, my own bed again...” you shift your weight from side to side. “Thanks again for letting me stay with you by the way.” I was in a bad place, the worst place, and you gave me everything. “I really appreciate it.”

Yoongi reaches out and rubs his thumb against the Starry Night bead resting at the hollow of your throat. “Of course, y/n, what are friends for?”

“Nerd.” You smile widely before shoving your hands in your coat pockets. “I’ll see you later then?”

“Yeah.”

Too jittery to ask for a ride, you turn and begin walking the familiar road back home.

“Y/n, wait!” You feel Yoongi grip your elbow and when you turn around, you very suddenly find your face an inch from his, his eyes devouring you, and his lips so, so, close...

Yoongi smirks. “Kidding. Catch you later, y/n.”

You swallow. “Right. Later.”

You spin on your heel and hightail it back to your apartment. What was that? Did he try to kiss you? Was he getting you back for teasing him earlier? And why, oh why did some very small part of you really want to kiss him, want to press your lips against his and–

Idiot. No. No no no no. If anyone in the whole wide world is off limits, then it’s him. Yoongi. The man with the big “DO NOT TOUCH” on his heart, so to speak. You can’t like him, never ever, and certainly not now, at the peak of his career.

Besides, you only felt that way because he was an idol, right? Right? Up until you met the guy, all you wanted was to marry him. And, of course, after acting out that scene for the audition– it’s only natural.

You shake your head, remembering the shiver that ran down your spine when his lips neared yours. What was happening to you? As you lie in bed, half asleep, your thoughts drift to what your life has become.

“Bitch.”

“Slut.”

“Whore.”

“Talentless, worthless, pathetic.”

The voices swirl around you, the insults flying like gusts of wind, and they tear at your frame, shoving you, forcing you to your knees and when you try to speak it feels like your words are sucked straight out of your lungs.

“Stop it!” You try to scream, but no noise leaves your mouth. “I didn’t do anything wrong! Stop it!”

“You touched him.”

“You talked to him.”

“You kissed him.”

“He’s ours!”

“Ours, ours, ours, ours, o-”

“Fame, flashlight– gi-give it to me!”

“Aah!” You bolt upwards, chest heaving, your forehead damp with sweat. You reach for your phone to shut off the alarm– your neighbors probably hate you by now.

Ugh, you’re sleepy, but you’ve got things to do. What else is new? It’s been... what, the third day in a row that you’ve gotten four hours of sleep? As you stand up, you feel a sudden dizziness. A few seconds later it passes, and you can go about your day.

And by day, you mean coffee. After you quit working at the cafe, your daily dose of caffeine had become more expensive– to the point where you finally gave in and bought a cheap coffee machine. Which, of course, has suddenly decided to stop working.

You watch the machine sputter and gasp, resulting in two drops of coffee and one headache. Great. You start filming for Moon Over the Sea today and you really can’t afford any mishaps. Especially if you’re filming with Yoongi.

No mishaps means caffeine. Caffeine means cafe. Cafe means...

Xiumin.

You shake your head and breathe deeply– you’re going to have to see your ex eventually, and your old cafe is on the way to the studio. It’s the only place you can stop if you want to get there on time.

The familiar bell jingles and you’re once more drawn into your old life– a life before you met Min Yoongi; a life when your love of BTS stemmed from music videos and interviews, not games and banter; a life when you were only an overworked acting student and not despised by thousands of ARMYs. A life when Xiumin was nothing more than a friendly coworker.

You walk to the counter, where a painfully familiar head of hair is making a drink.

“Hi, can I help y- oh.” His voice makes your heart stutter, because it’s Xiumin, he made you breakfast and visited you in the hospital and cheated on you with a girl he called beautiful...

In your head you’re punching him. Out loud, you merely steel yourself– “Hi, can I get a double espresso?” No please. He doesn’t deserve a please.

“Uh...” Xiumin swallows nervously, and you feel a small rush of satisfaction. “Yeah. It’s been a while, huh?”

Your smile remains frozen on your face. “My double espresso?”

Xiumin doesn’t move. “Y/n, come on, talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. My espresso would be nice though.”

“I miss you.”

At his words you expect pain, you expect longing– you expect to want him back. And yet...

Your mind wanders to Yoongi. When you told him what happened with Xiumin, you saw his face: pure rage was reflected in those dark eyes.

“You deserve better,” he’d said during one of your long winded, alcohol-fueled rants.

He was right; you did deserve better. Is that why, now, you don’t feel a twinge in your heart on seeing your ex?

“Y/n, please, come back to me. Things can be just like how they were.”

His voice shakes you from your stupor, and your careful grip on your emotions loosens.

“How they were? Tell me, Xiumin, how exactly were things? Because I seem to recall a supposedly monogamous relationship in which we told each other everything, and I’m guessing you only recall how desperate you were to get your dick wet.”

Xiumin opens his mouth and you raise your eyebrows in response. “Answer me, I dare you.”

“You know, I could sue you for my birds,” he growls finally. “And my car. That’s property damage. I could sue you for every penny you’ve made from those ads, and that music video.”

You pause. What is he talking about? “Property damage?”

He scoffs. “Don’t act like you don’t know. You ruined my car!”

Delusional. “Whatever you say, Xiumin. Can you actually do your job and give me my coffee now?”

With an icy glare, he thrusts your espresso into your hands. As you saunter out, you turn and call to him: “Enjoy losing the one person in your life who could actually remember your name!”

He flips you off in response and, with that weight off your shoulders, your gait turns sprightly as you make your way to the studio. You arrive at 8am on the dot, and spy a familiar figure among the many milling around and awaiting direction.

You approach and tap him on the shoulder. “Yoongles~”

“Huh?” He turns around and it’s not him, it’s a face that’s very much not your Yoongi, it’s someone else, and you called him Yoongles–

“Oh! I’m, uh, sorry!” You turn and scuttle, cheeks flaming; you just bothered what must have been Yoongi’s body double, you’re such an idiot.

“You too, hm?” You hear a low chuckle and notice the real Yoongi leaning against a wall. “You’re the fifth person who thought he was me. Shit, I was confused when I saw the guy!”

You laugh with embarrassment. “Some friend I am.”

“Hey,” Yoongi leans forward and boops your nose. “You’re a good friend. Really.”

You blush. A world famous idol thinks you’re a good friend, even when all you’ve done is lie and pretend. How did you get so lucky? “Shut your face hole, nerd,” you reply, poking him before you get too sappy.

Yoongi opens his mouth to reply when you hear two loud claps echoing through the loud studio.

“Okay! Hello, cast and crew of Moon Over the Sea! I’m your director, Avery.” An elegant women with a curious accent speaks over the general chatter.

“You may notice I have an accent– that’s because I was raised in America. Now, we’re on a tight schedule so I expect all of you to work hard and productively for the next for months to make this drama the best it can be!”

The present company claps politely. “She seems nice,” you whisper.

“Here’s to hoping,” Yoongi murmurs in reply.

Avery consults a clipboard. “Now, for the scenes today I will need the following actors.” She reads aloud a list of names and you only tune in at “...Min Yoongi, and l/n y/n. The rest of the cast may go home– we’ll need everyone tomorrow, so be here bright and early.”

The studio empties out and the hair and makeup crews retreat to their respective areas. There are several extras and about a dozen named actors left after the movement ceases. Some of them you even recognize. You feel more than a little starstruck– you’re definitely the least attractive person here.

“As you know, this drama is inspired by the time-honored classic of Pride and Prejudice,” Avery continues. “Our leads will be played by Park Bo-young and Park Hyung-sik–” she nods at the familiar-looking actors and you blink hard, half blinded by the physical perfection. “– but the rest of you still have important stories to tell.”

You nod along, enraptured, and you see Yoongi smirk at you. He’s probably used to all the glitz and glam, but you’re savoring it– who knows how long it’ll last?

“For that reason, we’re filming Kim Ji-woo and Moon Sung-min first.” You jump at the summons of your character. “The scene is set for their first meeting, at the Sung family ball. I expect all actors and extras to be in costume and in character in the next half-hour. Go!”

Half an hour later you find yourself well dressed and slightly out of breath in a very realistic studio ballroom. Yoongi, infinitely more well dressed and not at all out of breath, nudges you.

“You look pretty,” he whispers.

“Not in comparison to literally everyone else,” you reply.

Yoongi looks like he’s about to say something when Avery approaches, barking orders at extras. “You and you, there. You, go there. Bo-young, you play Hyeon, and you’re y/n’s younger sister, so stand a bit behind her. You know your lines, yes? Good. Let’s start with Bo-young’s line. Ready, and... action!”

There’s a clap and the cameras begin rolling. In the grandly decorated ballroom, the extras talk quietly amongst themselves. You and Bo-young stand tall in your dresses.

“I do believe Moon Sung-min is looking at you, sister,” Bo-young says teasingly.

You glance up momentarily and catch Yoongi’s eye. He’s gazing at you intensely, eyes alight with interest.

You quickly blush and look away. “You’re mistaken. He’s far above us–”

“Which is why you should talk to him. Imagine the look on Mother’s face when she sees you with one of the wealthiest men here.”

“Hyeon!” you laugh. “Please, I could never!”

“Doesn’t seem like you’re going to have a choice, Ji-woo. He’s coming over~” Bo-young sings. “I’m going to go dance with the others. Have fun!”

“Sister–”

It’s too late, the fake crowd has swallowed her whole, and suddenly Yoongi is right in front of you and every cell in your body feels tense, nervous, as if it really is your first time meeting him.

“Hello. Miss Kim, yes?”

You feel your cheeks heat up at his voice.

“Y-yes,” you reply, sweeping your skirts in a deep curtsy. “And you must be Mr. Moon Sung-min. Are you enjoying the ball?”

Yoongi’s voice dips low, laced with longing. “Much more now, I think.”

“Cut! Great, guys.” Avery’s voice draws you back to reality, back to a world where the man in front of you isn’t meant for you. “Let’s take it from the top– that chemistry was crackling. I’m sure we’ll get it perfect in the next few takes.”

Suddenly an assistant holding a buzzing phone scurries up to Avery and hands it to her. With a nod of apology to the cast, she answers.

“Hello? Yes, this is she... What? Hang on, we have that area scheduled for filming on those dates. Who–” Avery’s voice turns icy. “I understand. What other times are available...? Oh, you’re kidding. Okay. Okay. Yes, crystal clear. Thank you, goodbye.”

As she hangs up she sighs deeply. “This is gonna mean a lot of emails.”

“What happened?” You ask.

“We have a number of outdoor scenes scheduled in a few weeks and we reserved an area for filming, but someone bought out the space. They can move our time, but... it’s a pain. We’ll have to redraw the filming schedule and move those scenes forward.”

“How forward?”

Avery grimaces. “Starting tomorrow. Congrats, Yoongi, y/n– we’re filming your first kiss tomorrow. Alright everyone, let’s get back to work!”

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saintcanardmoved · 5 years ago

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Oh god. I didn’t know this blog would suddenly receive so much attention. Please, I am begging you to not scroll down. It’s endless MysticMessenger posts from two years ago.

#long post

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teabq · 6 years ago

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Endgame Meta Part 4 of Who Knows

Ok, we’re past opening weekend so going to put very soft spoilers outside of the read more. But again, SPOILER warning both for plot points from the film and for ranting about certain aspects of it.

To recap so far, again with soft spoilers:

Endgame Meta Part 1: In which I discuss how Endgame is a magic trick that makes you think you’re getting something that you’re not.

Endgame Meta Part 2: Bullet points on things including, but not limited to, Steve, Tony, Natasha, Pepper, and the handling of time in the movie.

Endgame Meta Part 3: Bullet points on the handling of time, LGBT characters, female characters, Hulk, and Steve.

Now for part 4, which is going to be about this interview with the writers Markus and McFeely. Or, as I like to call it:

CALLED IT. I mother fucking CALLED it. The five year time jump was PURELY to put the characters where they wanted them to be with exactly zero thought or care given to how they got there.

What amazes me is that M&M have had MULTIPLE MOVIES to put everyone in place. The last movie of a series is not when you do the wacky what if scenarios to jerk them into the position you want them to be. This is when we’re supposed to be getting closure on what’s already been established.

What gets me is the utter disregard for the ideas of 1) characterization and 2) show don’t tell. Prof Hulk is the best (worst?) example of this. That these guys would look at all the history of Bruce and Hulk and see it as something that would purely be resolved in a science montage?? We’re talking two separate characters! Characters who have had an antagonistic relationship! THE SCIENCE DOESN’T FUCKING MATTER.

The issue with Bruce and Hulk wasn’t what exact gamma formula gets them to merge, it’s WHY WOULD EITHER OF THEM WANT TO. As of Endgame the answer to that is and remains WHO THE FUCK KNOWS? SHUT UP, PROF HULK GAVE SCOTT TACOS, ISN’T THAT WHAT WE’RE ALL HERE TO SEE?

Likewise the complete misunderstanding of Thor’s arc as “all he ever does is fail.” Yes, he’s suffered LOSS, but that’s different from FAILURE. Dudes, I don’t even GO here as far as being a Thor stan (like him fine, he’s just not my fav) but even I can tell you that Thor’s arc has been about him growing as a person and becoming a true leader.

Which isn’t to say the guy can’t suffer trauma after everything that’s happened. Odin knows he’s earned it! But that’s different from saying he’s a total failure at everything he’s ever done.

And of course we get confirmation that all M&M thought of with Thor is “Ha ha, he’s fat and drunk! Isn’t that HILARIOUS?” Man, credit to Hemsworth for managing to insert pathos and gravitas into characterization beats that were there purely to mock someone with PTSD. Compare the treatment of Thor in Endgame with Valkyrie in Ragnarok: both Asgardians who suffer PTSD, both trying to deal with their trauma with booze, both with comedy beats, but only one which treats the concept of that trauma as something to respect. (Hint: it ain’t Endgame.)

I’d say don’t get me started on the Natasha of it all but holy FUCK. She was supposed to be a shut in? Really? I’ll grant that it at least explains why they were framing her as somebody we’re supposed to feel sorry for. I got that we were supposed to think she was pathetic when I first saw the movie, but what I couldn’t get was WHY. As far as I could see she was stepping up to lead when nobody else would, and was organizing much needed heroing efforts. I got that the whole underwater earthquake exchange with Okoye was supposed to indicate that Nat was being hyper vigilant but again: TRAUMA.

Likewise I’m annoyed after my allowing for a reasonable mistake in having 3 separate “women be making sandwiches” scenes, it was apparently entirely intentional for Nat only being able to put together a peanut butter sandwich for herself to mean that she is so lost and pathetic and her life has no meaning. God forbid we interpret it as 1) she’s got SHIT TO DO, 2) nobody said Nat was a cook in the best of circumstances, and 3) hey maybe five years after HALF THE UNIVERSE VANISHES it’s harder to get Fresh Direct deliveries than it used to be.

Speaking of which, I could go into so many rants on that five year time jump. Here’s the thing: I’ll happily do the MST3K principle if you want me to. Case in point: I’m not going to question why everybody in the final battle had communicators because the reason is the movie needs a way to have the characters talk to each other while scattered about the field. It’s not important, it doesn’t influence the plot, it’s easily handwaved and we all move on.

However, when you put issues with the five year time jump IN THE TEXT then you need to address it. Don’t show me abandoned boats surrounding the Statue of Liberty if you don’t want the audience to draw conclusions from that. On the most basic level you’re saying “look at how empty and devastated the world is.” Okay, great, well if the world is empty and devastated, why are people playing Fortnite? (other than the obvious paid for product placement) Why are kids bopping around cheerfully asking for Hulk selfies? Why is Pepper Potts curled up on a couch reading about compost instead of reviewing reports about the efforts of Stark Industries to help rebuild?

What gets me is that we have REAL WORLD EXAMPLES of huge loss to draw from. Not to belittle the events of it but 9/11 alone shows how the loss of thousands in a single location has an impact on the psyche of those in the area, the day to day life, and the economy. It’s nearly two decades later and if people treated the memory of 9/11 as an excuse for a day at the beach it would be considered offensive. You’re telling me only five years after HALF THE UNIVERSE DISAPPEARS and the memorials to the vanished are little more than a visual curiosity people stare at? Nobody’s got an emotional attachment? Nobody’s leaving flowers? Nobody’s sitting on those benches sobbing their eyes out?

And that’s just if we take the shots of devastation at face value. Give it two seconds of thought and you realize the entire fucking planet should’ve fallen apart. Randomly removing 50% of all living humans (for the sake of argument) would’ve destroyed EVERYTHING. Nothing would’ve been able to function. Those abandoned ships mean no trade is happening. Who’s running the government? How is stuff getting manufactured? How are things being moved place to place?

And that’s just if we limit it to humans. When we throw in the other living things like birds and such then we realize the environment is fucked too. We’ve all read about how screwed we are if bees vanish. Well thanks, Thanos, you got us halfway there!

And again: I’d happily handwave IF THE MOVIE LET ME. I thought the purpose of the scene of Steve’s therapy group was to imply that everyone in the world was having problems moving on. While watching it for the first time I was fully prepared to take that scene as an explanation for why bringing everyone back after five years wouldn’t be as problematic as it seemed. But then the movie went on to show that, actually, outside of Steve’s therapy group and the Avengers themselves (minus Tony and Bruce, who are doing just fine), the world is a-ok!

Which is why, in an odd sense, it’s comforting to read that interview and be told no, you’re not crazy. They gave no thought to any of this whatsoever and never even cared. “Wouldn’t it be funny if Thor was fat?” writ large.

And the sad thing is that nothing is going to discourage them or anyone from doing things like this all over again. The movie made over a billion opening weekend. Why ever change?

#Avengers Endgame #Endgame Spoilers #meta #MCU #spoilers

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ahgasescenarios · 7 years ago

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Mystery Man- Ten Masquerade Ball! Au

Word count: 3.1k

Genre: Pure fluff

Plot summary: When you get an invitation to the annual masquerade ball, you don't think the night will be as extraordinary as advertised. Will your Mystery Man manage to change your mind?

Request: Can I request a Ten scenario where their school organizes a masquerade ball? Thanks, I love your writing xx

A/N: Thank you for your request, it was really fun to write! Hope you guys enjoy reading and don't be shy to send in requests(: Thank you guys again so much for your support, it really does mean the world to me

Living in the city had its ups and downs. Being able to attend an Ivy League school singlehandedly dismissed all those downs, though. It was an adventure if you were being honest. It was nothing like high school, that was certain. Here, everyone took things seriously whether it be clubs, schoolwork, charity events, you name it- because it determined the rest of their lives. Scary, come to think of it. You show up to some building every day for months and repeat this exercise for years- all so that you can spend the rest of your life working in one single place (if you're lucky, that is).

Yet, you couldn't bring yourself to despise school and all that it represented. Your parents worked hard enough just so you could get the best education possible, you weren't going to spit on such an opportunity. You showed up to school every day with the same joie-de-vivre and tried to see the best in everything, in everyone. You figured you owed that to your parents and yourself.

Today was one of those mornings. You felt a light breeze on your face as you walked to the subway station. It was getting colder, you observed. You recognized a silhouette in the distance and ran towards it excitedly.

"Eun-Ji!"

Your friend smiled upon seeing you. This had been a habit of yours ever since you had met. You always rode the subway together and today was no exception. You took your usual seats in the back and chatted away.

"Have you heard about the ball?"

Your friend watched your reaction expectantly. Your school, being Ivy League, hosted many events and the one Eun-Ji was referring to was by far the most important. It was a masquerade ball and it was thrown only once a year. It was special because you needed to personally receive an invitation to attend. Everyone wanted to go as it united the most "important" people of the school. People would kill to feel like they were important, wouldn't they? Personally, you weren't too keen on the idea but you knew better than to refuse if by some miracle you received an invitation.

You snapped out of your reverie before answering your impatient companion.

"Yes, just like every year. I hope you get an invitation, Eun-Ji. You deserve it."

You smiled, trying to mask your disgust of the event. She only rolled her eyes at you before switching subjects.

Math had always been your least favorite subject. Thank god you only had to endure this one, unlike your friends who were studying to become businesspeople for the most part. The only distraction being a head of greenish-blonde hair sitting two desks in front of you. He was by far the best dancer in the establishment (which was saying a lot given the prestige of the school) and his nickname was Ten- that was pretty much all that you had gathered about the said boy.

He was devilishly handsome and quite reserved, which only made him that much more alluring. A handful of girls were already at his feet, not that he paid them much mind. As for you, you were content by simply watching him from afar admiringly.

Which was what you were doing at that precise moment, except this time he turned around. Your eyes met and you looked down, embarrassed that you had been caught staring. He squinted his eyes at you and turned back around. You heaved a sigh of relief and the rest of the lesson was uneventful.

The rest of the week went by the same way as that class did- uneventfully. You didn't run into Ten after that and you were glad it was the last day of the week. Except Eun-Ji kept going on about the god-forsaken ball.

"(Y/N)! The invitations are supposed to be distributed today! I can't wait to get home to see if I got one."

You covered your ears, hoping to block her out in the process. Your attempt was in vain as she was now shaking you to get your attention.

Soon enough, the day came to an end and you were met with an even more excited Eun-Ji -if that was even possible. She rambled on and on until you got to the subway.

"I want one so bad, (Y/N), you can't even understand! I know exactly what I'd wear, I have the perfect dress, the perfect shoes, the perfect necklace and the perfect mask already lined up. But who would I go with-"

"Eun-Ji, I love you, but can you please stop talking about this ball? It's not like you've officially been invited yet. You can rant about it then, okay?"

"Fine." She pouted, not saying much for the remainder of the ride.

You climbed the stairs leading to your apartment when a pink piece of paper caught your attention. You picked it up, identifying the object as being an envelope with your name written in fancy calligraphy on it. You opened it and read it aloud.

"Dear Miss (Y/L/N),

We cordially invite you to join us for a night to remember. Be sure to respect the dress code below. We look forward to seeing you at the annual masked ball.

Best regards,

The Barnard College Committee"

Just as you were starting to piece everything together, your phone rang.

"Yes?"

"(Y/N)! IT'S OFFICIAL I GOT ONE, I'M GOING TO THE MASQUERADE BALL! AAAAAAH!"

Your friend's high-pitched screams made you flinch and distance the phone from your ear. When you thought she had calmed down, you spoke up.

"Well I got one too, it seems."

The screams made a comeback and if you became deaf, you knew who you would have to blame for it.

The masquerade ball was to be held two weeks from the date you had received the invitation. Eun-Ji had dragged you along to so many shops that you had lost track of how many you had been to. You couldn't find a dress or a mask, whereas Eun-Ji already had everything settled. She made sure to show you the best of the best from Prada to Dior, yet nothing caught your fancy.

There was now one week left and you had decided to go shopping on your own. Eun-Ji was too dizzying for you. You entered a quaint boutique and found it had a vintage feel to it. The prices were reasonable and you found the workers to be quite friendly. You browsed through their selection when one particular dress made your jaw drop in awe.

It was draped on a mannequin, giving you an idea of what it might look like on you. It was of a dark forest green and it was simple, just like you wanted. The dress was made of silk and you could already picture yourself showing up to the ball in it.

You tried it on and were surprised by what stared back at you. Your reflection was no longer of an innocent school girl, but one of a mature, beautiful young woman. Tears welled up in your eyes at the sight. You laughed, thinking about how pathetic you must've looked crying over a dress. Nevertheless, it was the one and you exited the store with a smile on your face and a shopping bag in hand.

It was the day of and you were currently sitting on your couch, watching some random TV show on Netflix. You were waiting on Eun-Ji who wanted to get ready with you. The aggressive knocking on your door made you jump in surprise. She was always so dramatic, you thought.

"Hey."

"Okay, so I brought my makeup, hair products, and perfume. I'm going to give you a makeover, darling."

You cringed, not being too fond of the idea. You ended up agreeing because saying no was not an option when it came to Eun-Ji.

She took care of your hair first, sighing when she saw what she was dealing with. She curled the ends and braided some strands in a complex updo. She added some glitter as a finishing touch. You tried to take a look but were stopped by your intense friend.

"No peeking!"

Eun-Ji moved on to your face. Her collection of makeup was now sprawled across your vanity and it was an absolute mess. You didn't know she owned this much makeup. She applied the basics on your face and nodded in satisfaction when she was done.

You were finally allowed to see what you looked like and when you did, you were amazed by her work. You looked so different and you had to agree that her makeover wasn't half bad.

"Do you like it?"

"I do, actually. Thanks."

She smiled widely, moving on to her own makeup.

You had decided to rent a car for the event since public transportation wouldn't be the best way to get there considering how you were dressed. It was actually quite a fancy car, some recent Lincoln model. Eun-Ji was wearing a pink dress that almost resembled a bridesmaid dress. She looked as stunning as ever. You were both wearing your masks as you gazed outside, wondering what the night had in store for you.

It was around 10 pm when you arrived and the venue was filled with people. You couldn't recognize anyone and it scared you a bit. Eun-Ji had run off with some of her other friends (ones that were way more excited about this ball than you), leaving you to fend for yourself. You grew uncomfortable by the minute and headed towards the bar.

"Whiskey on the rocks, please."

You sighed in happiness when the bartender handed you the much-needed drink.

"Rough night?"

You turned your head to the owner of the voice. He was wearing a navy blue tuxedo and black bangs covered his forehead. You couldn't properly distinguish his features underneath the mask. He looked handsome even with a mask covering most of his face. He, on the other hand, knew exactly who you were.

"You could say that, yeah."

"Are you not happy to be here?"

You shrugged.

"I mean, I guess it's an honor and all that."

"You seem enthusiastic", he laughed.

You laughed along.

"You look ravishing in that dress, by the way."

His words made you blush. You mumbled a faint "thank you". It wasn't every day that a handsome guy flirted with a girl like you. The music's volume started to increase while the whiskey in your glass did the opposite.

"Wanna dance?" He asked, leaning towards you so you could hear him.

You nodded and he led you to the dancefloor. You swayed your body to the rhythm of the music and were surprised to see that the mystery man was quite a good dancer. You were actually enjoying yourself with this stranger which made you even more aware that you didn't know his name.

"So mystery man, do you have a name?"

"Not tonight, (Y/N)."

"But you know mine, it's not fair."

He chuckled. Of course, at that exact moment, the DJ decided to play a slow song. You were sweaty and gross, not exactly the ideal state for a slow dance. You were both frozen on the spot for a few seconds. The man before you searched your eyes for approval and you nodded. He placed his hands on your waist, bringing you closer to him. You gasped and wrapped your arms around his neck as naturally as you could. Inside, you were freaking out. There were butterflies in your stomach and your heart was beating out of your chest.

Fortunately for you, the song only lasted a few minutes. You excused yourself afterward, making your way to the bar for a glass of water.

You sipped on your drink as you looked around, noticing how everyone looked so noble tonight. You recognized a few people as being a few years older than you. You felt quite out of place among all these mature, respectable individuals.

You finished your drink and stepped outside. You needed some fresh air to cleanse your thoughts. You had always been an overthinker and in times like these, it was less than welcome.

You sat on the sidewalk, letting your gaze wander aimlessly. You were barely aware that someone had just sat down next to you before said person spoke up.

"What are you doing out here all by yourself?"

Your eyes widened when you recognized the voice as the mystery man's.

"I'm not big on parties, crowds aren't really my thing. I'm more of a stay-at-home kind of girl."

You smiled, suddenly fascinated by the ground.

"I know just the place. Come."

He smiled and took your hand in his, leading you to this mysterious place. Everything seemed to be mysterious about him. You wondered if he was going to tell you his name when the night was over.

You didn't talk much during the walk. When you got close enough to the spot, he covered your eyes with his hands. He guided your step until he reached the special place.

"Okay, we're here. Open your eyes."

You complied. You covered your now gaping mouth with your hand. He had taken you to a hilltop with a magnificent view of the night sky. The stars were shining brightly than ever and you could almost make out all the constellations.

"It's beautiful."

He smiled, thinking that your beauty utterly outshone the view.

He laid on his back, inviting you to do the same. You followed and noticed how each star stood out with this new perspective. You started tracing invisible patterns in the air, linking the stars together to create constellations in your mind.

The man next to you propped himself up on his elbow. He stared at you for a little bit, thinking the moonlight made you even prettier.

"May I?" He gestured to your mask.

You nodded, after all, he already knew your name so there was no harm in him seeing your face. He untied it, his thumb resting on your cheek gently.

"Are you going to tell me who you are?"

You found yourself asking. He answered with a smile, turning around to untie his own mask.

A look of astonishment took over your face when you saw who had been hiding behind the mask all along.

"Ten...? What-"

You babbled. So many questions were running through your head and Ten just smiled at your puzzled demeanor.

"But your hair?"

"Well, I dyed it, obviously."

You nodded absentmindedly.

"How do you even know my name?" You laughed, too confused to ask anything else.

"I've had an eye on you for a while now, (Y/N) you've just never noticed. I've watched you struggle to get the perfect high note in music class, I've seen how much you try to understand in math. I know how hard you work, (Y/N) and I know how much you care about your friends, otherwise you wouldn't have shown up tonight. And all of those little things about you made me want to get to know you even more. So if it's okay with you, I'd like to take you out on a real date."

It didn't take long before you accepted.

"Of course I'll go on a date with you. I mean I've had a crush on you for a while so."

You stared at the ground, nervousness spreading through you.

"How about now? I'm sure the local diner's still open."

"Sure, let's go."

You walked all the way to the Parkway Diner, still holding hands. It must have been already midnight when you got there but it was indeed still open. You sat down in a booth and noticed that you were the only ones there. Therefore, the waitress was at your table in no time.

"I'll have the strawberry milkshake please."

"Can I get the deluxe burger with curly fries?"

Your eyes widened, you didn't think he'd be that hungry at this time of day. Especially given how thin he was, you would have expected him to be on a diet or something. His eyes found yours.

"Is there a problem?"

"No, but are you always this hungry at night?"

"Yep, I need my strength which is why I eat a lot. I burn the calories by dancing, so it's alright."

You nodded. Your food arrived shortly, the cooks working faster than usual since there was not a soul in the place aside from you two.

"So how did you get into dancing?"

He finished his bite, pondering the question for a bit.

"I've been dancing ever since I can remember and it's always been the thing that made me stand out, you know?"

"Yeah, I get it. I'd love to see you dance though, I've only heard about how good you are."

"You should drop by the studio sometime after school, then."

You blushed, accepting his offer. The rest of the night went smoothly, you talked and got to know each other. And you liked what you saw so far.

He was walking you home, making small talk on the way.

"So how did you like the oh-so-famous masquerade ball?" He suppressed a laugh.

"I think it's overrated. It wasn't worth raving about, in my opinion."

"I agree, but I did get to see you in a dress so I'd say that's a pretty big win." He grinned and you hit his arm playfully.

Sooner rather than later, you were at your doorstep. You stood on the porch, the porchlight dimly illuminating your features.

"Thanks for walking me home, I had fun tonight."

You managed to say despite being a bundle of nerves right now. You didn't know if he was going to make a move and you wanted nothing more.

"Me too. I'll see you soon, (Y/N)."

He kissed your forehead gently before starting to walk away. You pouted and called after him.

"Ten, wait!"

You ran his way, stopping only when you were face to face. You transferred your weight to your toes, leaning up to peck him on the lips. Just when you were going to head back, he grabbed your arm and turned you around. He placed his hand on your neck as he brought you into another kiss. Your lips moved in sync with each other and you smiled. You broke away when you were both out of breath. With one last peck, he was off. You waved and headed inside.

You didn't have high expectations of the annual masquerade ball, you had pretty much expected to be the complete opposite of what was promised. Yet, you had met a mystery man who had turned out to be your crush. It was almost too good to be true, but it was very real. Perhaps the stars had aligned for you two that night.

|Masterlist|

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snake-oiled-chief · 5 years ago

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(Okay just to get this out of the way: I’ve only ever seen your blog on mobile so now that I’m actually seeing it on my laptop…wow. Like whoa. WOW. I love your theme/background so much…okay it’s out of my system now.)

…For a hot minute I got so distracted by how pretty your theme is I forgot the questions I had about Tokage (mostly about his Quirk) BUT I HAVE ‘EM NOW:

Oh thank you for sending me this! This was a lot of fun to answer btw!

About his Quirk:

1. Considering his Quirk, which side of his family did he inherit it from, mom or dad (like with Asui)? Or is it one of those Quirks that mutated and subsequently turned out to be unrelated (like with Eri’s Rewind)?

Shino got his ability from his Grandfather on his mother’s side. He was born with scales like his own but the problem here is his Grandfather could turn his Quirk off, he can’t so there was some form of mutation as DNA was transferred. His mother could spit venom, his father has a mil Quirk which was hyper sensitive eyesight.

2. Does he get more sluggish in the winter, like is there a risk of hibernating like with Asui?

A mild risk but he doesn’t hibernate. He stays in the station more often in the winter but yes, cold is a weakness to him, it makes his scales brittle as well.

3. We know he has night vision, so what is his vision like during the day? Are the colors brighter? Are sunny days a little painful for him, enough to keep several pairs of sunglasses? Or is it just normal like everyone else?

Normal eyesight in the day, the sun doesn’t affect him.

4. Does he have a three-chambered heart?

Yes.

5. Incoming stupid question for laughs: does he shed his skin? (And just how annoying is it?)

Lol, no. He loses scales but thats only if they’re damaged.

6. Does his Quirk affect his strength? Like, does it make him stronger?

No.

7. About his venom making skin contact and burning, is it strong enough to leave fourth-degree burns?

No.

8. Is his core temperature less stable (compared to the average Quirkless person)?

Yes. He hovers close to a human temperature though.

9. Is respiratory system also affected, like does he have better lung capacity (compared to the average Quirkless person)?

No.

10. How strong is his sense of smell? (If it’s strong enough then I can only imagine air pollution being hell for him.)

His smell isn’t fully hyper sensitive like a snake would be, but he can still pick up scents better than the average joe.

About the Workplace (and what he does):

1. What was going on with Tokage in the aftermath of the USJ incident?

Chaos. He ha purposed stricter rules for the school to follow and for their parents. Ever since he’s been capturing the stranglers of the incident an putting them through rigorous interrogations for the whereabouts of the LoV.

2. What were his thoughts about U.A. going through with the Sports Festival, considering what happened at the USJ?

He hated it. He warned Nezu of the precautions but of course they didn’t listen.

3. Did he ignore the Sports Festival broadcast? Or was he watching and did he take notice of Midoriya and Todoroki’s battle (hence any questions about the relationship between the former and All Might)?

Yes. Yes and yes. He takes great intrest in Deku.

4. Does he have an idea that something completely different went down with Stain’s arrest? Did he catch Endeavor showing any signs in behavior that suggested otherwise, and what would Tokage have done if he found out?

Oh for sure. Though he knows the other Chief well, he knows his dogshit better than anyone….haha get it? But yes. He knows it’‘s not the truth. He would have done the same to be honest.

5. Incoming really nasty question: the motives behind Bakugou’s kidnapping are fairly obvious, but while getting his coffee to prepare for the stress coming soon, he overhears an old middle school classmate of Bakugou’s ranting to a friend about how Bakugou got into U.A. despite “crossing a line” while he bullied Midoriya. After the friend asks about what Bakugou said, the person recites the “swan dive” comment (I tried to type it out but it was really painful to) and actually did want to report it to the faculty and the police, but was afraid of what Bakugou would do to them which, given what his Quirk and attitude are like, isn’t all surprising. Now having overheard and knowing all of this, how would Tokage act? (You can omit this question if you want to.)

You can bet your ass he’s paying a visit to the school and his parents after the ordeal.

6. How many men did he lose at Kamino?

7. Considering Todoroki used his ice, it would be at least near impossible to not notice the students’ presence during the rescue op at Kamino, so how did the police handle that? Or were they unable to since the kids didn’t engage in combat with any of the villains?

Unless they engaged, Shino can’t do anything but he did tell Endeavor.

8. Given Toga Himiko’s Quirk, background and connection to the League of Villains, would you say that Tokage and his men are more concerned with tracking down and arresting her than Shigaraki to prevent any more impersonations and make it easier to keep track of who is who? (Imagine Toga killing and impersonating one of his own men, especially a rookie with a worried mother…yikes.)

He’s concerned abaut taking her down and Twice, really.

9. How involved (to an extent) was he in the investigation on Overhaul and the anti-Quirk bullets?

Not by much since it wasn’t in his jurisdiction.

10. Did he personally know Sir Nighteye? If yes, how he did take the news of Nighteye’s death?

Tokage knew Nighteye, yes. They had opposing views on heroes half the time but they respected one another as allies. He was greatly affected by his death, even paying him tribute by putting flowers at his gravesight.

11. What was happening with Tokage and his men in the aftermath of the attack on Overhaul as he was being transported?

A whole lot of paperwork…

12. Has he met Eri in person for questioning?

No.

13. Does he disagree with U.A. taking custody over Eri, especially in light of past incidents with their security measures?

Oh for sure, but the trusts Aizawa so he’ll let her stay….or now.

14. Considering Gentle/Tobita’s antics, what was Tokage’s attitude towards the case? Hostility or just plain apathy with a measure of not taking him seriously? (Like “*Siiiiiiigh* It’s this guy…alright, let’s bring him in and get this over with.”)

He felt kinda bad for the guy? He felt pity for this pathetic dud more or less so. Like he knew he wasn’t a bad guy. He’d dealt with bad men all his life so he took it seriously but didn’t break the book over his head either.

15. What was police training like for him?

Pretty tough, but he was determined to show that h was just as good as any hero.

16. Have there ever been attempts on Tokage’s life before, given that he’s Chief?

Yes, many actually. If he dies it’ll send chaos through the city. He’s a skilled fighter for this exact reason.

17. If he knew one of his men has a target on their back, does he offer to walk them home? Or does he walk them home whether or not they want him to, no questions asked?

Please, they’re getting a ride home with three escorts to boot with him.

About his Daily Life:

1. What are mornings like? Does he sometimes get his coffee alongside coworkers and colleagues?

He tends to like being alone. He’s reclusive and a loner. He doesn’t like people but man does he love cats.

2. What is a non-hectic/“quiet” day like for him at the station? Just constant paperwork?

Paperwork, coffee and classic music playing in the background.

3. For laughs: has he ever been in a situation where he runs into someone he’s seen on television/met in the field (like if he runs into one of the more meek and nicer U.A. students from the hero course, like Midoriya or Iida; or a Pro Hero like Ingenium) a place like a grocery store, and not realize it until he gets a better look at them? How awkward would/does it get?

Oh god, that happened once with the Todoroki clan. He was quickly power walking the other way with his cart full of coffee in his pajama sweats an his messy hair.

4. What does he do after work? Does he sometimes wander off or does he always go straight home?

Home or to a cafe to read while drinking coffee

5. And finally, considering the shit he’s witnessed and been through, has he ever considered tai chi and/or yoga?

He does tai chi every other weekend in the park.

#musing snake #snakeoiledchief #thank you for this! o/#submission

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youngster-monster · 7 years ago

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In which Kael’thas is small — that’s it, that’s the joke

Read on AO3

Sin’dorei aren’t really on the small side of the height spectrum. They’re not on the tall side either: they stay on a nice, comfortable medium, somewhere around six feet high. Their average is average. If nothing else, it’s a nice change from their usual eccentricity.

Bus Kael’thas just can’t be like everyone else, now, can he? Royalty, member of the Kirin Tor, blood mage, savior of the sin’dorei. 5′5′‘ tall.

It’s been something of an issue in the past.

(“Chieftain Bloodhoof,” He greets, and the Tauren looks around in puzzlement. “No— Urgh. Down there, Chieftain.”)

But there’s a difference between off-hands comment on your height by members of allied nations — which he has come to see as an annoying but apparently necessary part of life — and deliberate offense from some half-demon, hero-wannabe asshole with a savior complexe.

(Demon hunters, as a rule, are unpleasant to work with. A consequence, he supposes, of the gruesome ritual responsible for their powers and demonic appendages. Or maybe their difficult personnality is a requirement for the role? Both are equally likely.)

“Come again?” Kael’thas says, too shocked to come up with anything smarter at the sheer audacity of it.

“What, do I need to speak up to be heard from down there?” The seven-foot-tall purple dick says and smile.

Anger simmers just under Kael’thas’s skin and his cold, polite smile freezes and twists into something sharper, crueller. And then he kicks his leg up as hard as he can in the stranger’s crotch.

The man is surprised enough by the attack that he bends forward with a pained grunt. Kael’thas uses the distraction to close his hand around one of his horn and pull him down to eye level, a whopping two feet lower than he usually stands. Kael’thas, because of his apparently natural inability to be average, is stronger than most mages, and the demon hunter is in too awkward a position to break his grip.

Kael’thas narrows his eyes and hisses, low enough that nobody else would hear his rather un-kingly manners, “Call me small one more time and I’ll shove my flaming, magical sword up your ass, are we clear?”

His magic answers to his irritation with small, golden flames that curl around his fingers and lick at the horn in their grip. The demon hunter flinches.

“Are we clear?” Kael’thas repeats, tightening his hold.

“Y-Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”

Kael’thas lets him go. Footsteps echoes in the corridors, an odd hooves-life sound on the dark stones. Another Illidari, he suspects.

He could probably take on two of those nuisances if he had to: he’s one of the most powerful mage on the continent, if not the world, and even without that his status as the king of the kingdom of Quel’thalas gives him absolute diplomatic immunity. That doesn’t mean he want to test his chance; he turns around and walk away before it comes to that.

Kael’thas is stopped by a voice.

“What have you done this time, Eltarel,” The voice says, perfectly deadpan, like it’s a common occurence.

The demon hunter — Eltarel, apparently — must think Kael’thas far enough not to overhear, or maybe he doesn’t care, because he immediately starts to rant. “I was just talking to this elf and he freaked out on me, my lord! Threatened me, even!”

“And that cowed you into submission?”

“Well, no, but he seemed important and I wouldn’t want to risk our alliance by maiming a diplomat or something.”

“And yet, knowing this, you still decided to insult him?” The voice sounds profoundly unimpressed now.

“I—”

There’s a sound like someone getting hit in the head hard enough to stumble and the voice grumbles something Kael’thas doesn’t catch before saying, louder, “I knew most of you went a bit mad with the transformation but I didn’t expect you to get stupid as well."

Satisfied — and a bit curious now—, he walks away as quietly as he can, toward the council chambers, in which Kael’thas was supposed to be ten minutes ago. Well, nothing like being fashionably late.

An hour later Kael’thas is tired, irritated, and feeling like stabbing someone in the throat. The truce between the Horde and the Alliance is fragile on a good day and if it’ll be a miracle in itself if it’s still holding by the end of the day, given how this meeting is going.

As what appears to be the most rational one of the lot, Kael’thas wishes for the good old days of the all-out war between the two factions. At least then he didn’t have to listen to Sylvanas and Anduin bicker (or, as it is, throw threats of death on each others’ loved ones).

Lorewalker Cho — wonderful, impartial, calm Cho — has called for a break in the negotiations. Most leader have basically fled the room but Kael’thas doesn’t have the energy for it. He kind of just— slumps on his uncomfortable chair and lets his head fall on the table in front of him. Maybe he could just pretend to be deathly sick and go back home — maybe magical addiction is making its comeback in the blood elves’ ranks, what would they know about it.

He wishes he had delegated this particular duty to Lor’themar instead. Last time he saw him, his second-in-command seemed awfully happy to be alive and eager to help: he ought to change that. Misery loves company and diplomatic misery most of all.

A steaming cup is put next to his elbow. He lifts his head wearily, sees it’s green tea, and offers a grateful and rather pathetic smile to the lovely pandaren who brought it. She rolls her eyes and pats his shoulder in silent support.

It’s nice to know no one’s happy to be there.

Sipping the beverage like it’s not approximatively around the temperature of the sun, Kael’thas looks around the emptied room. Thrall and Vol’jin are talking in low tones at the other side of the room; Sylvanas is leaning back in her chair and appears to be napping — curious, he thought evil never rests.

(She became somewhat of a reluctant friend in the past decades, and on most days he greatly enjoys her company, but by the Light he will strangle her with his two bare hands if she opens her mouth just one other time in this damned meeting.)

He notices movement in the corner of his eyes. He turns around and sees— Malfurion Stormrage, who has the annoying habit to go unnoticed until he decides to come out of the shadows and scare a century off Kael’thas’s lifespan with his sudden apparition. The druid is discussing with a demon hunter; the dark, freakishly tall figure is easily recognisable as Illidan Stormrage, the fabled twin. Kael’thas thinks the can see some kind of family ressemblance in there— the horns-wings combo, maybe? They’re both purple, that’s something.

The room is mostly silent and the brothers aren’t making any effort to be particularily secretive. Really, no one could say it was Kael’thas’s fault for overhearing the discussion.

“You’re late, as always.”

“Well, if ten thousand years of imprisonment didn’t teach me the value of punctuality, those boring meetings sure won’t.” An unintelligible reply from Malfurion to which he replies, “What, too soon?”

A sigh, a lull in the discussion. Illidan breaks the silence by asking, “How’s it going, anyway? Anybody’s killed anyone yet?”

“Fortunately not, thanks Elune.”

“As I said: boring.” He has an oddly charming smile, a mischevious, kind-of cocky grin. “I kind of miss the times when they resolved their issues by throwing punches.”

“trust me, you don’t.”

“Well, at least there weren’t as many peace meetings. What is it the goblins say? ‘if it ain’t broke don’t fix it’?”

Malfurion huffs a laugh. “There is so much wrong about what you just said I don’t know where to start.”

That’s when it hits Kael’thas; the voice in the corridor was Illidan’s. He’s surprised he didn’t recognize it, but then again, the last time Kael’thas saw the Betrayer (or whatever they call him now), Illidan was offering a solution to all of his problems in exchange for his help against the Legion. A nice, straightforward job offer that Kael’thas refused on the spot, because he’s nothing if not a great judge of character and fresh-out-of-immortal-prison Illidan was shady.

Death apparently had a good effect on that, at least. Illidan seems a bit less hellbent on the destruction of all living things now. Not by much, mind you, but a little.

(Kael’thas also remembers why he had to think about it before making the wise choice of saying ‘hell no’ and hightailing it: Illidan is everything a good night elf should be, with a dangerous twist that takes him from ‘handsome’ to ‘mind-numbingly hot’. Apparently, Kael’thas’s type is ‘dreadlord chic’: he has mixed feelings about the knowledge.)

The Stormrage brothers have stopped talking and there’s a distinct feeling of awkwardness lingering between them. Kael’thas decides to put them both out of their misery and, after mustering up the effort for it, drags himself out of his chair and walks to them.

He circles through the druid’s titles before he settles on, “Archdruid Malfurion. Thank you for resisting the urge to join the screaming match,” He dips his head and lets out a weary sigh. “These meetings are hard enough to begin with without us— ‘stuck-up immortal dickheads’ joining in on the verbal violence.”

Malfurion smiles lightly. “You are quite welcome, King Sunstrider.”

Kael’thas then turns toward Illidan. The man, unlike his brother, is standing and he actually has to crane his neck to hold his eyes, or what passes as eyes in a demon hunter. “Lord Illidan,” He greets neutrally, and resists the urge to tell him that all his subordinates are assholes. He probably already knows. “Good of you to join us.”

He’s not sure himself if it’s a barb at Illidan’s lateness of his infamous habit of doing everything alone and mostly against everyone else. Illidan looks down, the tall bastard, and replies, “King Sunstrider. You are— smaller than I expected you to be.”

“I've been made aware of it, yes.” He crosses his arms over his chest and, deciding to abandon all semblance of polite, careful communication, adds, “Multiple times, in fact. Your demon hunters are a bunch of pricks.”

Welp. His mother would be ashamed of him if she knew.

“So I’ve been told,” Illidan agrees.

There’s a beat, and then—

They both smile, amused and sincere in a way that makes Kael’thas’s face relax after an hour straight of politely not tearing out anyone’s throat with his teeth.

“Oh dear,” Malfurion says. “I have the feeling you two should never have met.”

They get along like a house on fire.

#world of warcraft #illidan stormrage #kael'thas sunstrider #an au that's somewhere post mop and definitely before the broken shores but kael never joined illidan #the most unrealistic thing here is that malfurion isn't an asshole #writing #peace talks au

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brokenmusicboxwolfe · 7 years ago

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On a post where I talked about my nephew (and the difficulties with my brother)

runningbarefootthroughtheforest said: No ideas, just wanted to say Im glad your nephew has someone like you in his life, even if you are ‘banned’ from him. It sounds like you bring sunshine to his life, and even if thats a rare occurence it may make a world of difference to him <3

Thanks for being so kind.

I wasn’t planning to really reply (thought I REALLY appreciated hearing that), but I was in a mood tonight. I got started writing, and now it’s 2am and I’ve got this endless rambling about my relationship with my brother no one in their right mind wants to hear about. Rather than erase all that typing (and venting) I’m just going to put it safely behind a click to continue....l

Being there for him used to be one of the ways I would make myself go to my brother’s when I knew what was in store for me there. (The other was to help my parents with that construction job building the extension to my brother’s house.) I had my nephew described as “lighting up like a Christmas tree” when I showed up and that he seemed so much more engaged when I was there. I dunno how much I credit that to me, but I did feel like it was worth enduring a heavy dose of verbal abuse.

The thing is, it has been so long since I have been able to see him I expect he has forgotten me now. I got to see him for a minute over a year ago when took Mom half way to spend time recovering from her hospitalization at their house (I’ve mentioned our living conditions...). He didn’t show any signs of recognition anymore. Yesterday Mom called me while my sister-in-law was out (Mom won’t call me when they are around to avoid ranting) and I could hear my nephew talking to himself as he played, his voice like a little bird chirping. I realized that I have never actually heard him speak in person because he was a totally non-verbal then. I’m afraid as far as he is concerned I don’t exist.

I know people wonder why I was banned from my brother’s house. “what did you do?” Saying, well the first time I was told never to come back I played a Wallace and Gromit DVD. It was so baffling how me playing it in a room alone could get him shouting I was “the most selfish bitch alive” for my choice of DVD, but there you go.

A few months later I did start going back, but that time I tried to photograph my parents beside the house extension we were putting in, and my brother thought I wastaking a photo of him andmy nephew. He hates photos being taken and threatened to smash my camera, started with the insults, called me a coward when I went into the house to get away from him rather than fight, then mocked me when I came back out rather than wake my napping sister-in-law. I started crying (trying soooo hard not to) and he lay into me for that. I always told my parents not to defend me since it would reinforce my brother’s peculiar “you love her more” narrative and it would make him more vicious, but it made me feel extra alone as he was attacking me, all in my face and snarling like he would get. I muttered “Sometimes I could just kill you” which was NOT meant as a real threat at all, and he knew that very well. Still he announced I was to leave or he would call the police and he could say I threatened his life.

And that was that. At first My parents and I thought it would blow over. It didn’t. We thought holidays would be an exception. They weren’t. We thought when Pop got sick he would relax about it. Nope. So that’s been that.

The thing is, it shouldn’t be a surprise. For years he’d been saying he loved Mom, loved but also hated Pop, and just hated me. I think partly Pop and are were disappointments to him, like we should be whatever fantasy he had of what we should be and if only he could bully us right we’d change. Pop and I did tend to think alive, where Mom and my brother thought a bit more alike, the basic mental wiring. But it was a way of seeing us, Mom the one who sacrificed (like about getting a PhD) to join Pop here, Pop the person working so many ambitious projects (like the submarine or the journey round the world in the boat) that never actually were finished, and me the smart sister turned utter loser (and college drop out to his multiple degrees). I knew he hated me, and maybe he was right to at least have no respect for such a pathetic creature, but I somehow had managed to believe that down deep he loved me.

You know, when he was a teenager he pointed a loaded gun to my head saying he was going to kill me, and I was totally calm about it. Part of it was the adrenaline, but part of it was a trust that while he was emotionally freaking out and might accidentally kill me, he did not really want me dead. Would I be so fearless now when I no longer trust his love is in there somewhere waiting to be talked down? I dunno.

Now, for the record, my family was NOT physically or emotionally abusive. Heck, my parents never even spanked us. We were never grounded, given time outs or bullied. While my father would break things when really upset, he NEVER, EVER hurt anyone or threatened to hurt anyone. My parents were confused how sibling rivalry and child defiance of a father could become so monsterous. They wondered what they did wrong. The thing is, it really wasn’t entirely some failing in out part.

Amazingly my brother was an incredibly sweet child. He constantly told us he loved us, gave us drawings he made and wrote “I love you” on, hugged us, kissed us, laughed and ... He was exactly the opposite of what he is now.

I can track it, the step by step path that led to this point.

It begins at school. When he entered first grade to be precise.

In first grade my brother got good grades, despite my parents questioning whether he was having difficulty reading. The teacher would reassure them that he was doing just fine....and then he failed first grade. When my parents wanted to know what had happened, the teacher said my brother had seemed so smart she had assumed it would work out. **sigh**

So my parents did what you would expect. They started working with my brother. They had always read to us (and I read as long as can remember) but now they started using work books, flashcards, and anything else that they thought might help. To my brother this was like being punished while I was off doing other things, and how he felt about me began to change.

Now I get this bothering him. I was bothered too. I knew my brother needed help, but I also knew they were spending all this time with him but so little with me. No one helped me with my homework, because I didn’t need it. I was “fine”, I was always “fine”. Where as my brother as a toddler would try to run (and made it once!) across highway 64 with all it’s traffic, laughing as we chased him, toddler me (when I couldn’t find my father and grandfather who were working and supposed to be watching me...the place it big) decided to walk home and famously was spotted by people carefully crossing that crazy busy highway and walking back along the side of the road. I was seen as gaving good judgement, bright, blah, blapg. Stephanie is always “fine”.

The difference is that while I saw the attention my brother got when no one even cared what I did in school, (they even let me sign my own papers because they were busy and knew I was doing fine...I HATE that word fine!) and was unhappy, I didn’t get angry at anyone. I understood, and other than a few bouts of grumpiness at my parents wishing that they would pay atrention to me a bit. But to my brother it was different. He was angry, and most of that anger settled on me because I was “fine”, a sort of feeling he had that I must be loved more since I wasn’t the one suffering.

Then it got worse.

His second grade teacher was horrible to him. She picked on him and bullied him continually. In front of the whole damn class she would called him stupid and mock him. He was NOT stupid! He was dyslexic!

My parents had to work to persuade then to have him tested. This was not even on the radar of out hick town school in the early 1980s. They had to bring someone in to test him, and when it proved the suspicions it proved no help at all. See, the teachers had never heard of such a thing, so to them “dyslexic” meant “stupid”. They considered kids “normal”, “smart”, or “stupid” with no nuisance at all. And that damn teacher kept at it, more intently than ever.

Worse for my relationship to him, the teacher and her aide had another angle of attack. “He’s not smart like his sister!” Do you know how horrible that is, constantly comparing a kid to another kid? In first grade my tracher had started that, telling the class “Why can’t you all be like Stephanie?” “You should try to be smart like Stephanie” Do you know what that does? It does NOT make the kids you want to change change, instead they glare at that kid you are comparing them to with pure hate. And now the little brother that had loved me, was being bludgeoned with me as a weapon.

He didn’t tell us any of this at the time. He was far too scared of her. It slipped out bit by bit over then next few years.

One day he hid to try to avoid going to class. I found him and talked to him, trying to be reassuring and comforting. You see, I was having an awful time in school, being bullied every day. I thought, three years older than him, I understood and I was being encouraging when I was saying if I could do it I knew he could. And then I told Pop where he was.

My brother still brings this up as a huge betrayal. It is one of the worst things I ever did to him, though I did it out of love and ignorance.

So it began. My brother’s resentment and hostility. A bubbling rage began to build. He started seeing as opposite, if something was tough for him he would insist it was easy for me. To this day he insists I was popular and happy in school! It’s nuts. Mom laughs at the thought. In that one year in kindergarden I went from so outgoing I spoke to anyone to so introverted I couldn’t make eye contact or order in a restaurant. I went from normal weight to the fattest kid in the class, for the first time in my life started wetting the bed, began to jump at the sounds like someone with PTSD, and would come home crying, begging my parents to tell me why everyone hated me. I was picked on for everything including my breathing! But he didn’t remember preschool me so he didn’t know I’d changed, and he was so lost in his own pain he couldn’t see mine.

And it went like this. Now I am NOT minimizing what he went through. While I had many teachers that openly delighted whenerever I made a mistake and, bafflingly, saw me as some sort of threat, clearly what he went through with that teacher was worse.

Let me be clear again, my brother was NOT stupid! He was one of the top five students by graduation, in college he studied chemistry where he was the only undergraduate working on a project, one a national prize, and after getting his degree went right back to get a degree in computer programming. He could very well be smarter than me!

But elementary and high school were hell. For both of us, to be honest, we just manifested it differently.

I can only imagine the constant “she’s smart, you’re not” pressure he was under. I know even as an adult his default when upset was to call himself “Stupid!” “Idiot!” Or “Moron!” No matter how often my parents and I tried to tell him otherwise, he never believed us. He was constantly tense and chewed his fingers until they bled. And behind his eyes you could see the pain and rage. He got so he would not want anyone to see him show emotions, even taking his gifts at Christmas into his room to open. He got aggressive and growly, not just in a teen boy way. He would let anyone hug him anymore, not even Mom. We wanted to hug him, we knew he needed a hug, even wanted a hug, but if you tried he’d slug you and leave a bruise.

With me his aggression just got worse. Violent, not just slugging. Not when our parents were around, of course. Then it was just verbal. He was disgusted by me. I’d become withdrawn more, fatter, and, as I used to say, “terminally insecure”. Maybe he couldn’t stand my increasing loser status because if I was supposed to “better” than him according to the teachers, then how terrible must he be? He needed me to be better than Inwas, just as he always blamed our parents a bit for not saving him from that teacher, despite the fact they hadn’t known at the time what was going on.

One quick point: what happened to my brother inspired Pop to run for school board right after that. He thought it was the best way to help both my brother and others like him. I think the last straw was seeing that abusive teacher won “teacher of the year” the next year. When Pop asked why they said it was because they were all sorry for her because just before the vote she has a baby that was born with a serious birth defect. Sympathy is one thing, but “teacher of the year” for a woman that tormented my brother and changed him so completely? In one year he went from loving me to hating me, smiling to scowling, not questioning his own intelligence to never believing in it! So Pop went to the school board, became chairman, and what to you know, the way they treated my brother turned around over night (though how he felt didn’t)! But what about other kids without elected parents?

Anyway, the school years were not happy. Add my brother’s tendency to hold grudges and to lash out when hurt to the target painted on my back by the big mouthed teachers and I became his verbal, and sometimes physical, punching bag. Our parents would be working and he would go into jerk mode. Locking himself in my room to trash it. Calling me the most hurtful things he could. There are still holes in my door from a sword. (Yes, sword. We have a few...) When he would start getting rough I’d pin him, because though we did eventually end up the same height, I was bigger than him. He was skinny and I was just plain stronger. But once restrained, then what? In his rages he would snarl he would hit me when I let go, and eventually I’d have to. My dilemma was I was the big sister, the one that had always tried to protect him and never wanted to hurt him. When I was about 8 I got a blood vessel in my eye busted fighting a bully that was picking on him. I couldn’t hurt him, but when I’d let go he’d keep his promise. As my parents and I would say, he would never pull a punch.

Now my parents would try to get him to stop being such a jerk to me, but it only ever made him meaner. If they were defending me, he semed to think, that must prove they loved me more. They were working and we were on our own, but together out here on the farm, much of the time. Oddly being unsupervised had worked out great when we were little, but as we got older and the relationship got worse it was not great at all.

It’s so weird, looking at old photos. All those happy ones when were little. There isn’t a photo of me NOT smiling until I started school, and there isn’t one where he isn’t smiling and usually hugging me until that year with the teacher. Like OMG! He honestly seemed a different person. By our teenage years there are almost no photos of me smiling, and the few that show my brother smiling are rather threatening.

We did have one powerful bonding moment one day. We just started talking, just spilling out all the horrible things and bullying we went through at school, that hell hole. We ended up sobbing and just holding each other. It was so intense I actually believed it was a breakthrough, a turning point out of the darkness. Nope. I made that mistake many times over the years.

And yeah, the gun incident happened. I survived, and between that and another incident when he nearly shot trespassers (that had permission we didn’t know about) when scared, I let my folks know I didn’t think he should be around them anymore. It was atypical for the family so it was startling, but his judgement worried me.

But then came what was the worst turning point for many years. I dropped out of college. It would take a while to explain, but it would make me the sole non-college in the family and the source of shame. It was unforgivable sin. While my brother had given up physical violence (and never hit me again) the verbal abuse got ....unrelenting. How bad did it get? When he would drive home I would hear the car and feel a full on hyperventilate “run away!” panic attack. He’d come home from college and I’d shake at the sound of his voice. I won’t list all the things he said, but it boiled down to my worthlessness.

That said, he still would seem to love and want my company. He asked me to go on trips, like to Germany and Montreal, and despite the fact I would always swear never to travel with him again afterwards. He gave gifts that showed thought, cards, and moments of sweetness would slip out.

Still, I began to notice something else. When things were good, he was wonderful, but when things were stressful he’d get mean.

Believe it or not, there were a few years I got my hopes up that hehad outgrown it, or worked past it or let go of that childhood rage or...something. He was great, no longer tormenting me. The only teasing was affectionate, without the cruelty. He did little kindnesses, joked, showed concern, and smiled. It was like having the little brother that had been so close to me back. Even at his wedding the two of us kept giggling uncontrollably every time we looked at each other.

It didn’t last. It took a few years, but it started building up all over again. I expect it was the stress he was feeling with a new marriage to someone with rather set ways ,interpersonal conflict on the job, a new house he’d bought, eventually fatherhood, and the initial denial anything was wrong with the nephew followed by the difficult reality. Then there was the fact that had set in that I was no longer the fattest in the family, but he was...something else to hold against me.

So the point is, by the time he had a lot of things eating at him. He was having health problems I worried were stress related, that certainly didn’t help his mood. And there I was, unmarried, no kid, only working with Pop not a “real” job as far as he was concerned (HA!), none of the things weighing on him. Clearly, he would assume, my life must be better. That ignores my lived reality, but he always has ignored my point of view. As far as he was concerned I’d somehow cheated. And if my parents let me get away with it, well then, they must love me more.

So he promises to make my newborn nephew hate me. He picks on my continually. When I have a breathing attack and my heart goes nuts, he says to film it if I’m dying so he can watch it over and over laughing. He refuses to help us more than five minutes on the house extension, shouting “I can’t work with you people!!” And on and on. So why did I not see this final break coming?

He isn’t happy. Even hearing about him through Mom I can tell that. I wish I could help him, but I never could.

What’s strange is the fact I didn’t feel relieved by the break. Not seeing him meant sparing myself the weekly emotional rollar coaster, the walking on eggshells waiting for the moment he’s have a go at me. Instead I fell apart. I used to never cry, but I started then. I’d have meltdowns over it, thinking my life had hit the lowest it could get...the loss of my brother and nephew.

Of course, Pop started getting sick almost exactly then, and six months later he was diagnosed. It’s all been down hill from there! So I guess when you think you’ve hit rock bottom it might just be a bounce along the rock face as you keep plummeting.

My brother is still furious at me, and honestly I would apologize whether I feel I did anything wrong or not if I thought it would do any good. But I know him. If I apologize he would take it as proof he was right. He doesn’t do forgiveness, more like gloating and justification for further jerk behavior. I’m not even exactly sure what he would want me to apologize for.

I’ve tried asking Mom for advice, but he baffles her and she says there is nothing I can do. Pop couldn’t help when he was alive either, not only because he didn’t understand it but he was enduring his own continual insults from my brother. I watched Pop sit there sobbing after a phone call with my brother, while Pop was sick but not diagnosed. That makes me angrier than any of the things my brother ever did to me. Apparently, to this day my brother is angry at Pop for not finishing the extension. Well he died damn it!

The point is, all these experts that lecture how you must go to any length to have a good relationship with your siblings, tell me how the hell I can fix this. All those years of putting up with it, trying to make peace, trying to talk, reflexively saying I was sorry, occasionally arguing back intently and generally enduring sure didn’t help........

#comments #family #my family #sibling relationships #my brother

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