#that yall will bash any and every book no matter what and it is so fucking pathetic to see time after time

[trystanthorne]

it finally happened people are complaining abt blades 2 before it even comes out and are writing essays in the tag LMFAO

[itgomyway]

former limiting beliefs i used to hold and how i let them go ♡

(disclaimer: these are based off of my own experience! share yours on your own blog 🥰)

“the 3d HAS to reflect the 4d just understand you have it in your 4d no matter what.” um there is no separation between the 3d and 4d when you are already 1 being (consciousness). theres no need to live in a separate entity known as imagination when its the same as the “3d” anyways. the concepts of “imagination” “physical world” or “3d” are just false forms of consciousness youve made up and personified it as real. they are not. only you are.

“the more you repeat your affirmations the more likely they will come” theres nothing to “do” or say that will bring me my desires since i am everything i already am my desires. the idea of “doing” anything to “get something” outside of me doesnt make sense when its all in me. affirmations can be used to “bring things to your awareness” but understand the affirmations themselves are STILL not bringing you anyway. just making you aware of things.

“dont check the 3d! you’ll be in a state of lack/showing yourself you dont have it!” PLS GIVE ME A BREAK?? why the fuck are you telling urself you are with someone but afraid to check their socials or for their notifications? either date someone u like or you dont think you have it. because lets be honest. if you really were in a relationship with your desired person the idea of “checking the 3d”- which u already claim IS your 4d- shouldnt be an issue. and if it is then something aint right but i wont judge!

“youre in a state of neutrality if you dont care ab not getting your desires and you dont have them” damn yall strict asf. you cant even be indifferent without it meaning something. you either have it or you dont. if im indifférent its bc i have it why stress? fucking decide already

“neville taught ab non dualism!” here we go. then why tf did you misinterpret his words like that and make it sound obnoxious? i believe he did, just like his teacher, teach non dualism (the power of awareness by him is great) but his teachings are a far cry from the nonsense most of you spew in his name. and dont even get me started on how neville used to refer to the law of assumption as the “law of consciousness” but i digress. if you separate yourself or any aspects of being then it isnt non dualism.*

going into my next point “you HAVE to read source to understand!!” i am so glad most of the law of assumption community is breaking free from this mindset cuz you infact do not HAVE to read anything. if you are the operant (main) power doesnt this mean you are your own source? oh i thought so…

“work on your self concept to manifest your sp if you dont have them your sc is shitty” well it wasnt shitty til you told me i had work to do 💀. once again there is NOTHING you need to do but “be”. working on your sc can help u feel better ab yourself for sure but its not required!

for supposedly limitless beings, a lot of yall are very limited. be careful who you get your advice from because personally i wouldnt take after someone whos too scared to text their sp- oops i mean significant other. (disclaimer: once again not bashing loa just the users who can’t decide that they believe and switch every other day. very common on law of assumption twitter!)

if you realize youve been limiting yourself this whole time and now youre like “what now-“ well as ive stated before, theres STILL nothing you need to do. youre not missing anything. this isnt a blog on why you dont have your desires, i cant tell you the answer im not your creator. (you also are everything so you in fact have your desires)

like non dualism, i hope to share this way of life with you as you’re not getting anything so theres no need for limitations. LIVE YOUR LIFE. if someone is advising you to fear your own power then ignore them cuz wtf! life is suppose to be fun not a rule book!

*disclaimer: i have nothing against neville goddard. i really like some of his teachings. however i would never go to one of his living students for advice, ESPECIALLY on twitter. not only do most parrot the same limiting beliefs he himself didnt hold, but most are obnoxious about the topic of the law of assumption. i don’t even “manifest” but if i were trying to and had them to go to I’d probably cry. if you really wish to read “source”, read The Power Of Awareness by Neville Goddard and Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle 💜 learn from the teachers themselves FIRST <3

© itgomyway

[golbrocklovely]

holy sh*t, it seems Colby has finally unfollowed mlp… never thought I’d see the day 🤣 good for him honestly

same here, anon.

i genuinely didn't think he had it in him to cut the chord. but he did it.

i'm gonna go on one "final" rant (which i doubt will be final bc things like this always come back around) and then maybe we can all move on from this topic forever lol

my problem with fans reaction to this/to shea in general is that everyone basically implies or downright says that colby should have stayed with shea no matter what. that he was obligated to choose her bc she's been around since he was less famous, that she knows him, that there's history there, ect ect. and i have a major problem with that and have since day one. same things also applies to stas.

and look, this is not me saying that colby played no hand in this. is it possible that he lead shea on? sure. i'm not denying that's a possibility or reality. and i'm not saying that shea can't be hurt about it. but at the end of the day, if he didn't want to date her, he doesn't have to. regardless of what he might have promised, regardless of what might have transpired between them, he's not obligated to stick by her just bc some of yall love adventure buddies a bit too much. he's not a sim or a character you can control. he's a real person with real feelings and real choices he's allowed to make. even, surprise surprise, ones you don't like or agree with.

if i was colby, i would have unfollowed shea years ago. but he's nicer than me.

i just find it so odd how so many of these fans act like he picked malia over shea. yall, shea was never in the running in the first place. the last time they hung out was in september of 2023, when he was literally seeing tess at that time and up and a little bit past halloween. and then he ended up meeting malia in late nov/dec. so there is no possible way him and shea got something going on before nye when everything went south for them. the only way that's possible is if he played all three girls and somehow none of them realized it (which i doubt completely since tess or shea by this point would have said all of this).

i do not believe whatsoever that he had plans to hang out on nye, one of the holidays where he parties, with the girl that literally doesn't drink. not only that, but by nye he was full on seeing malia. we all know this. we all saw this. shea assumed he would hang out with her, just like she assumed he would come stream with her, like she assumed he would edit her videos and be in them. these are all legit promises she made in the very beginning of her streams. but the moment the nye pics dropped, her tune changed instantly. now she was badmouthing him and allowing her fans to do her bidding of shitting on him in chat and online. and basically every stream she did, she would say something about him. which again is why i cannot understand any of the fans that genuinely support her blindly.

bc if i had someone in my life who i had a possible on and off again relationship with, that's been talking to fans in gcs for years about me and my love life (along with god knows what else), liking edits bashing girls i'm friends with, claiming to her own fans that we're secretly dating but then turning around and blaming fans when our "relationship" goes south, and then takes the intimate details of my struggles that i came to her as a friend to discuss and turns them into shitty insta captions along with an entire part in a poetry book that she's making money off of…. and then tries to paint me as the worst person ever……. the LEAST i'm doing is unfollowing lol

but again, colby is nicer than me.

and if you don't believe me about the gcs, here she is in 2019 telling a random fan of colby's that was hating on her that colby and andrea were not together (since so many fans were shipping them at the time). and she full on aired out andrea's relationship, one she didn't even admit to having until after the break up.

here is a fan account of shea's (now deleted) that literally explains shea was in MULTIPLE gcs with fans. mind you the fan posting this was a literal teenager. this is also about the above situation too.

and just as an added bonus, here is shea's chat from roughly two weeks (january 16) after he was seen with malia on nye (and when those pics leaked of them)

but hey, if you want to be besties/fwb with someone like this, be my guest.

[friendlylocalwriter]

thank u, next pt. 2

Pairing(s):Timothee Chalamet x fem!reader

Warnings: angst (i love pain what can i say), kind of fluffy? (my idea of fluff is just softer angst fmknfsknfns)

Word Count: 2,043 

author’s note: ok im ACTUALLY back this time LMAO. yall wanted, so yall shall receive. enjoy :-)

p.s. it’s not essential to read part 1 before reading this as i wrote it as a stand alone, but if you want a little more context check out pt. 1! :)

It was early on a cold Sunday morning, and I had just stopped into my local cafe for some much-needed caffeine. I stuffed my frozen fingers into my coat pocket and rushed inside to escape the chilling New York air, and was immediately bombarded with the bustling sounds of the shop.

“The usual?”

I was pulled out of my thoughts and looked up to see the barista smiling widely at me, already plugging in numbers. 

“Yes, Vivian, thanks,” I said softly, fishing out a crumpled ten dollar bill from my pocket. She handed me my change with a bright “Coming right up!”, and a few minutes later I was standing with a bagel and a coffee in my hands, wondering where to eat. 

I ended up deciding on the second-floor seating- the designated study area. It comprised mostly of adults typing away furiously on laptops, quickly downing shots of espresso and periodically letting out exasperated sighs. I sat down at a little table in the back and took a bite of my bagel, people-watching. My eyes laid on two teenagers in the corner seated on a little beanbag chair. The boy’s fluffy hair meshed with the short pixie cut of the girl he was laying beside, both nose deep in a book. The girl pointed at something in the thick novel, and the boy nodded, quickly jotting down something in a journal. Curious, I inch towards them to see if I could get a glimpse at the title, and my body freezes when I read it. “The Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe.”

TWO YEARS PRIOR 

“’ The Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe? Could you get any more pretentious?”

Timothee let out a hearty laugh as he settled into his chair and brushed his brown locks away from his face., He watched Y/N thumb through the stacks of books arranged haphazardly in his bedroom, lingering on those she found interesting. His eyes trailed down her body, settling on her dirty, doodled-on Converse. 

“Sick shoes,” he chortled, feigning surprise when she flipped him off. 

It was only the second time Timothee and Y/N hung out, and Timothee impulsively asked if she wanted to come over after they spent hours walking around the NYC streets, talking about everything and nothing. He realized how much it sounded like he just wanted to bang her, but (although he did want to do that eventually) he genuinely just ached to spend more time with her. She was funny and blunt and made random weird jokes and just made Tim feel warm and fuzzy all over.

“Huh. Never really pegged you as a self-help book kinda guy,” she muttered, so quietly that Timothee almost couldn’t hear her. But he did.

“Well, what kind of guy do you peg me as?”, he asked, leaning forward in his chair with a grin on his face. Y/N turned around, rolling her eyes when she saw that shit-eating smirk.

“The kind who probably asks every girl he likes to come over to his apartment so they can ‘talk about books.’“ she says with air quotes, walking towards him. Timothee rolled his eyes as she stationed himself in front of him, her legs pressed together in between his spread ones. He said nothing, lightly grazing his hand on the fabric of her jeans. 

Y/N looked down at him and instinctively started running her hands through his hair, her nails scratching at his scalp. He looked up at her with a confused yet entertained look on his face.

“I can’t help it, I like your hair” Y/N giggled, letting her hands sit at the back of his neck.

“Well, I like you,” Timothee said, moving his hands from his jeans to her hand, gently interlocking their fingers. Y/N said nothing for a couple of moments and Timothee looked up at her, nervous.

“Shit, that might’ve been too soon, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-” 

Timothee’s words were cut off by Y/N pressing her lips against his.

PRESENT TIME

“Hey, lady, your phone is ringing,”

I shook my head and realized that my phone was, indeed, ringing at full volume and every person within a 5-foot vicinity was giving me the death glare. I scrambled to stuff my bagel in my purse and let out a rushed “Sorry!” as I grabbed my coffee and sped down the stairs and out of the cafe. Once I was outside, I let myself rest on the window and looked to see who was calling.

‘An unknown number. Weird,’ I thought. ‘I’m pretty sure I blocked all those telemarketers.’

I answer the phone call with a short “Who’s this?”

The line is silent for a few seconds until I hear something I thought I would never hear again.

“Hey, Y/N it-it’s me, Timothee.”

My breath hitched and soared back into my body. Everything came running forward- the late night talks, getting McDonald’s at 4 A.M, the kisses, the hugs, the night he left. 

Left. He left me.

“What the hell do you want?” I spat. Silence fell again, and I shifted against the cafe window, ready to hang up the phone. Then, I heard a deep sigh through the phone and something I didn’t expect- crying. 

“Please, can we talk in person. I ... need to see you,” he choked out. I shut my eyes hard, feeling tears welling beneath my eyelids. No matter what, him crying always made me cry. Always.

I wasn’t going to crack, though. 

“I don’t deserve this, Tim,” I laughed with no humor. “I just started to get used to having a life again, and you just call me out of nowhere asking to see me? You ruined me, T. I don’t owe you a damn thing.”

“Of course you don’t, that’s not what I meant, I-I’m sorry this was stupid. Sorry, sorry,” he rushed out with a quiet voice and the phone call disconnected. I let my head hang and a shuddered breath left my mouth, trying to wrap my head around what happened in the last minute. 

I knew I didn’t deserve this, so I deleted his number and went on with my life. I found another boy who cherished me, respected me, and loved me. I had kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids. I had peace.

I wish that were the truth.

3 DAYS LATER

Paul Anka’s “Put Your Head on Your Shoulder” was the first thing I heard when I pushed open the double doors to my local diner. The 50s-themed restaurant was a favorite of mine, and the food was to die for. I glanced over at the modern-style jukebox to get a glimpse of the time.

2:14 A.M. Jesus.

The diner was empty, and the bored teen behind the counter looked at me with lazy eyes when I approached him.

“Table for two, please,” I asked kindly, giving him a small smile. 

“You with the weirdo?” he questioned unenthusiastically, pointing over to a booth in the corner. I turned, confused, to see Timothee hunched over a cup of coffee. I felt my pulse quicken when he looked up, his dark eyes meeting mine.

“Yeah, sadly. Thanks,” I mumbled, dragging my feet as I trudged over to the booth. I took in a sharp breath when I saw Timothee up close.

His eyes were bloodshot red, dark circles prominent coating his undereye area. His face was sunken and his cheekbones were a lot more prevalent than I remembered. His billowy shirt barely hung on his frame, his collarbones peeking out from the top. I cringed; he looked so unhealthy and broken that I couldn’t bear to look at him anymore. I settled into my side of the booth and kept my eyes on my hands in my lap.

“I know I look a little rough around the edges,” he muttered, a bashful tone to his voice.

“Well, little isn’t exactly the word I would use,” I joked, not being able to stop myself. Timothee looked up at me and laughed, his hair bouncing along with him. I chuckled along, looking him in the eyes. I’m not sure how many moments passed where we were just gazed at each other, taking it all in.

“Are you guys ready to order, or...,” the teen from before came up to our table with his hands crossed over his chest and an annoyed look on his face.

“Uh, yeah, I’ll take a slice of cherry pie and a root beer,” I said, glancing at Timothee from above the menu to prompt him to order.

“I’ll just take another coffee.”

“Don’t know why’d you come to a diner just for coffee but whatever,” the teen said before snatching our menus and walking away. Timothee shook his head and I couldn’t help but snort at the kid’s actions. 

“He’s probably pissed that we are coming in to eat at two in the morning,” Timothee hypothesized. I hummed in agreement, the smile on my face falling when I remembered the situation I was in. 

An awkward silence took over the booth and I focused my eyes on anything except for the curly haired boy in front of me. 

“Look, Y/N, I know this is kind of shitty for me to ask you out to eat and bring up all these bad memories but I just needed to talk to you. I’m not even asking for forgiveness, or for us to get back together, I just,” his voice trailed off and I peeked at him, his head low and his lips pursed together.

“I feel like shit. Like, absolute shit for what I did to you. Not only did I make the biggest mistake of my life, but I was a huge dick about it. I’m sure nothing I say can ever make it better, but I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry. God, I’m so fucking sorry,” he cried, pushing his hair back and violently shaking.

“Christ, Tim, relax, you’re gonna make yourself sick breathing like that,” I hesitantly placed my hand on his face, making him look at me.

“Breathe, T. Breathe”

Timothee closed his eyes as he focused on taking in healthy amounts of air. I moved my hand to take it off of his face and he quickly reached up to put his hand on top of mine, leaving it on his damp cheek. 

“Timothee-”

“I love you, Y/N. With everything I have, every bone in my body,”

“Then why did you cheat on me?”

I think he was shocked I actually brought it up and said those words out loud. I jerked my hand back and put it back in my lap.

“Hmm? That’s why we are here, remember?” I sneered.

He took a big breath and his head bobbed against the back of the booth as he leaned back. 

“Honestly? I have no fucking clue. You had all these great opportunities at university and you were out so much and I felt so... neglected, I guess?”

“So, it’s my fault. Incredible,” I scoffed, grabbing my purse.

“No, no, no, of course not, wait- don’t go yet. Please” he scrambled to grab my hand.

I yanked it back and stood up.

“It was good to see you, Timothee. But I never need to again,” I tried to get out the sentence without crying, but I choked on the last word.

“Please, remember when you said we can fix this? I need us, I need you. I can’t live without you,” he begged, tears flowing down his face. I closed my eyes and exhaled quietly in an effort to catch my breath. In a few quick moves, I pressed my lips against Timothee’s temple, then dug fifteen dollars out of my purse and threw it on the table.

“That should cover the food. Goodbye, Tim,”

My name left Timothee’s mouth multiple times with increasing despair as I turned my back to him, making a beeline for the store. 

“The food’s about to be ready, dude,” the teen behind the counter said as I had the handle on the door. “You can’t wait a couple minutes?”

“Give it to the weirdo for me, please,” I said over my shoulder as I walked into the night, not knowing that would be the last time I’d ever see Timothee. 

[ca1e70-deactivated]

a list of my entirely way too niche headcanons ive actually implemented for everyones imagination:

name options ive used and refuse to retire: david elizabeth strider (sometimes i dont feel like being a douche to others and saying thats not his name), harley davidson strider, and david james strider for the sake of simplicity

im not gonna tell yall the like. oc exes ive given him bc thatll take eighteen years. 

i dont rlly have an explanation on the ghost thing besides the fact he just can? ive occasionally pulled from family ghost stories and experiences bc i somehow got landed with family members who lived in a haunted house for a decade and enjoy scaring me with all the stories (including the time my cousin literally died on the kitchen floor from a bronchial spasm and one of the friends that was over asked my aunt later what was up with the old man she saw in the corner of the room that night - my cousin is fine btw shes just a huge bitch and a third grade teacher and i dont like her)

whether or not hes done drugs is based on absolutely nothing besides how im feeling in that moment. either hes the designated driver and sober friend forever or he got fired from his job after doing a line at work during graveyard with some random customers theres no inbetween (this absolutely happened @ waho. if dave works at waho hes a mess of a person and thats on the diner itself.)

ok look i hc dave w/schizophrenia besides when i was 14 i had a hyperfixation with learning about it and then at 16 was prescribed a medication and had side effects so wack my therapist genuinely thought 14 yr old me was onto something and its a weird way to cope with the idea that lady put in my head that i might “develop it in my twenties” which i turn 20 this year and i havent been able to stop obsessing and panicking over the prospect so PLEASE dont come in my inbox calling me ableist im not out here all harley quinn in suicide squad with the voices ok hes medicated, he goes to therapy, the hard fast delusion that lil cal was nearly sentient and informed bro of every single thing dave did no matter how asinine it was is no longer a debilitatingly affecting him ANYWAYS

i actually use the chicken/egg farming family pretty often just because its hilarious to me to give dave like. an actual mom and dad. hes literally an uncle to like three different kids he just never visits because they make fun of his skinny jeans and he hates one of his (incredibly bare-bones ocs all of them) brothers who threatened to bash his head in with a little league bat after dave broke his star wars lego set apart on accident (but not rlly) so their parents were like “why dont you stay with your brother in the big city for a lil while champ” and then they just never picked him back up? and thats on favoritism 

the other one is that his name is actually david reed and hes the middle child of a family of three who literally live the standard golden retriever white middle class life only they went to disney land or something equally as dumb one year when dave was like 6 and he wandered off so bro literally just went “huh free game” because frankly he was an idiot who thought maybe i should take this kid home because its real dangerous in parking lots and then it was too late to NOT have it seem like a kidnapping and thats why daves never had a summer job, seen his birth certificate, or gone to school. but vaguely remembers what kindergarten was like and having a pet dog and calling someone mom as a kid. 

im not making a bullet point about his sex life headcanons just use your imagination and acknowledge the fact bro essentially worked within the sex industry and i enjoy putting dave through trauma as a catharsis 

i stopped doing this one usually but if he did go to school hes been in percussion since fifth grade and played the drums in his high schools jazz band as well as various edgy teenager garage bands he likes to pretend dont have a youtube presence and that hes absolutely never been shirtless in front of plenty of his classmates because he wore a hoodie to a show like an idiot. idk occasionally ill put him in an actual band he doesnt hate but keeps separate from his lil turntechGodhead internet persona (which i will ALSO touch upon in a sec) until they wind up getting looped into a tour with some bigger named band that has a show in *insert beta kid here*’s city and hes gotta come clean solely so he can visit his online friend. sorry derseasterous thats the one time weve ever run into each other and i made him have a crush on one of his bandmates i was in my anti-daverose phase where i made dave a hoe and also didnt want to admit i still loved the ship all these years later 

i hate it so much but you know the whole vr loli trap voice shit that was popular a while ago? hes fucking baller at it for some reason. he did it as a joke while talking to bro and they both about shat their pants. if im feeling real ambitious, hes got a separate soundcloud solely dedicated to doing dumbass rap covers or making his own but in the voice under the pseudonym elizabeth “beth” davids that he will never admit is his. well, he will, but hes gonna be really fucking embarrassed about it. irony or not.

talking abt seperate soundclouds and stuff ive always had it where turntechGodhead was his like. essentially internet fucking persona facade shit he used because we all had that phase where we wanted memorable urls and stuff but also didnt want to totally ignore the nagging fear of people finding you in real life, until it turned into real life ppl finding you on the internet. so he also has basically an adjacent set of social media under the same name but its just a boring username i havent decided on so everyone he knows irl doesnt mix up with what hes made for himself as TG and the people he knows as TG dont know what highschool he goes to. (this occasionally comes with the territory of ppl on parp being pissed that daves “lying” or “hiding things” from his friends as if he was doing it out of spite instead of just keeping embarrassing tagged photos and videos from football games or when he ate shit at the skatepark from fucking with his “rap career”)

every once in a while i get on a kick where hes just german. like, i just replace houston texas with hamburg germany and have him apply to a university in whatever state is applicable for whoever im chatting with and it goes from there? sometimes he moved when he was little and went through the whole visa thing, sometimes he didnt go through the visa thing, sometimes hes a dual citizen because of family and shit, its all dependent on what suits the situation best. 

one that ive been fucking with for a while but hardly break out (until recently with like 5 roses in the span of one day hell yeah) is that he has a neighbor at the end of the hall who is like a thousand year old witch lady that hes basically adopted as his mother figure in lieu of not having one and shes totally cool with it, especially bc when she kicks the bucket she fully plans on giving dave all her occult stuff so her figure-skating coach and realtor daughter doesnt sell it at a garage sale and lets it all go to waste. she also once brought rose up by name in a conversation without any prompting of her existence which dave didnt realize for days, and then one time cryptically stopped and stared at an empty space in the wall, went “she has potential, you know.” then looked at him sitting on her kitchen counter with a smile “lots of it” and hes thought about that weekly ever since. (it is important to note one of the occult items he leaves her is literally her own personal book of shadows shes been filling out for decades its like a 600 page leatherbound book dave has no idea what its used for but the sheer amount of homemade spells and etc in it is like. gonna murder rose the second this chick gets her hands on it i promise you.)

theres the standard strife shit? im not rlly gonna get into those theyre all basically cookie cutter bullshit. its just standard bro and dave abuse talk. i like to inclulde the whole 24hr live cam up in the apartment that definitely watches dave in every room besides his own and the bathroom, but that quickly delves into the prospect of middle-aged men stalking him online and basically sexually harassing him in his own god damn home by talking about how they can see him just trying to take his shoes off in the living room after getting home and frankly? its not one of my best takes! but once you throw it into the headcanon bin, its there forever. 

he actually really does do something with his photography but not enough to warrant anything exciting, but he has his own branding for it and regularly takes pictures of his friends or anything else he thinks is moderately interesting enough to take pictures of, but those are just thrown into shoeboxes under his bed in favor of posting genuine shots because he wants to keep his image intact and blurry photos of jade smiling in the tree they climbed up together while bec paws at the base of it while whining isnt exactly something he wants the whole world to see.

i also pretty often but him into either paleontology OR i put him down as trying to become a mortician because he thinks handing roadkill once he graduated from museum giftshop specimens to doing his own taxidermy on the side has prepared him enough to perform an occasional autopsy and start embalming real human corpses. (sometimes i put my own desires in and make them his bc i have to project at some point and put him through the same EMT course i dropped out of bc it was one semester and he already has pretty decent first aid skills, but he definitely didnt expect it to be as fucking wild at times as it is, but whats he gonna do? get a job back at waffle house? the company hes working for just offered to pay like half his associates in paramedicine tuition and hes already got all his pre-recs done when he started for paleo. at least its a stable job and hes got the ability to be compassionate in the moment) 

im running out of things that ive done to the poor kid. OH 

hes not a virgin he had a girlfriend all four years of high school (shes also one of his optional and designated exes plz keep up) and their relationship ends in one of two ways: she dies in a car accident a week before their high school graduation, or she stops talking to him entirely a week after their high school graduation until a couple years later she gets into (guess what) a car accident with her current wife/girlfriend and dies which leaves behind their daughter. who just so happens to also be daves daughter. her name is hannah and i love her like my own but no one ever likes her and thats on the conditioning of dirk. does dave end up taking her in? yes. shes awesome and the first time he takes her to the park to like run off some fucking steam she disappears for two minutes and dave is moderately terrified until she comes back holding a dead baby squirrel and thats the moment he realizes huh maybe things really do be genetic.

ok at the bottom of the list im gonna add the couple of times hes been a camboy which usually coincides with the live apartment cam thing and the amount of people in his dms calling him hot or whatever, but typically its more of a started the day he turned 18 and basically dipped around 20 in favor of showing up randomly with no warning to complain about a video game dick in hand because it gives him an outlet that wont annoy his friends bc this is the fifteenth time hes had a lot to say this week about a certain boss battle and also the comments fuel his ego and daddy issues.

the last one wasnt the bottom but literally unless its explicitly proven otherwise every time anyone rps with me there is the underlying fact dave strider was a goalie on his high school lacrosse teams all four years and (shocker another one) definitely had the hots for one of his teammates like major hots like first gay experience hots. like it was painfully obvious that teammate also liked him back hots. like one night at a team sleepover one of the other guys was like can yall just makeout and get it over with were fucking tired and dave really had the balls to be offended and ask what the fuck they were talking about while literally sitting halfway in the mans lap bc for some reason they had to share the same chair. 

he is also guilty until proven innocent of being the worlds biggest loner outside of that sports team and even though hes literally a jock he still opts to eat his lunch alone in the hallway or something like that and has a tendency to leave girls on read, but bc hes got an in with the rest of the jocks hes basically drug around to plenty of parties and since hes conventionally attractive enough and popular in the aloof way that he is, hes got plenty of tagged insta posts and twitter directs and snapchat streaks going. 

THESE WERE ALL NO GAME AND DONT INVOLVE SHIPS BC I LIKE TO KEEP MY OPTIONS OPEN AND THEYRE LITERALLY ALL BASED OFF RPS IVE DONE I HOPE YALL JUDGE ME ACCORDINGLY

[lumiereswig]

Please do the ENTIRETY of Forgotten! Hahaha I’m joking, pick your favorite part because that fic is v long 😍

happily, this gonna get l o n g

“The ball was flawless. In the garden, the roses continued to reach to the sky, and the storm brushed away; the lights shut off in the palace, one by one, and the music faded to silence. The prince went to bed with one or two or three pretty women he wouldn’t care for by the next day. Up in his room, Lumiere popped open a bottle of champagne.”

I set the opening to take place almost immediately after “Lit By The Sun,” though this time showing the evening Lumiere and Plumette never got—the stolen croquembouche up in their bedroom, the sharing of champagne among the servants. In the original timeline, obvs they didn’t get that—they got fire and feathers instead—but yeah. I am totally alluding to my own goddamn fics.

Plumette, lighting the candles by the bed, grinned at him over the flames. He laughed and raised his glass.

It’s not a lumiereswig post if there’s not a fucking fire reference.

“He’s turning just like his father—the prince’s father was like this, too,” Mrs. Potts explains to the musicians, who know nothing about the palace or its politics. They nod and move closer to each other on the bed. “We don’t know what he’d do without us. He’ll be fine, though; we try not to intervene. D’you only have wine up here, Lumiere? I could use a cup of tea.”

Foreshadowing of future bullshit, and also reminding the readers that Garderobe and Cadenza WERE NOT PART OF THIS PALACE-POLITICS SHIT. They did not deserve to be cursed!! fuck you agathe!!!! #justiceforgarderenza2k18

“If you cannot take a little sparkling wine, get yourself to bed, grandmother,” laughs Lumiere, and she swipes at his arms and makes him laugh. He eases into a seat between Cogsworth and Plumette and throws his arms around them.

Really trying to remind everyone how fucking close the staff is. The fam. Also, fuck you bill condon for not letting lumiere hug cogsworth every .3 seconds

“Think how long it has been!” he says. “Forty years for you, Cogsworth, but most of my life for mine. Why, I came here as a teenager—imagine me, only a little older than Chip! Fresh out of Paris and still reeking of the apothecary shop.” He grimaces, thinking of his father’s dusty store in a side-street of the city. He had fled, then, looking for the glamor his missed; in his room in Paris he had practiced dance steps, reveled in fashion, adopted the graceful movements of the court as rebellion against the bourgeois facts of an ordinary existence. He had come to this palace, and he had lit into life; dancing and feasting and glowing like gold made Lumiere’s heart sing.

EYYYY IT’S A HEADCANON I TOTALLY MADE UP

but tbh it makes sense to me (and has always made sense to me) that for all his glamor-gold, courtiers-and-candelabras bullshit, lumiere is not from an upper crust background. he’s too extra to have been born to it. That level of golden eyeliner and tequila has to be aspired to.

“We met in this palace, do you remember, mon trésor?” Plumette is close in his arms; her scent—fresh and light, like candy and macarons—right beside him. “I was only fourteen, and I loved you right away.”

“I loved you before I met you,” murmurs Lumiere. “I could never forget.”

Lots more foreshadowing, and also backshadowing. Gotta remind the idiots in the audience which motherfuckers in this story are in love.

The next day is their day off. It is their one day off in the year.

honestly this makes no sense (one day off a year???) but it’s adam. pre-curse adam. i can write him to get away with pretty much any bullshit and be like “””*shrug* uhhh he’s a beast, dudes, of course he banned puppies and kittens from the palace and hates daisies and sunshine”“

also tbh i hate the whole adam dialogue sequence, it’s really badly written

Adam stands in the lonely, empty halls. If he stands in the tower, he can see them weaving their way through the forest and down to the village, to spend their day in the company of each other, in Lumiere and Plumette’s case, or with loved ones, in the case of Mrs. Potts. No matter what, all the servants have each other. And Adam has nobody.

casual evermore references whenever we can’t get in a flame pun

….after all, at least when he yelled they looked at him.

someone told me this line broke them and i am forever pleased. yes mofos!!! relish my very slipshod, mostly shite grasp of the english language!!!!! revel in my poor grasp of human psychology!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Lumiere! The night grows old.”

 The crone grows young.

to make up for the shit in the previous chapter, I really enjoy this bit. the whole bashing-between-the-palace-and-the-village nonsense just makes me happy.

Belle wakes up to a jolt in the road, and the rough wool blanket on her face, and the smell of cheese and paint and horse and wind clinging to her skin. She rubs her eyes and tries to wipe away the sleep. They’re in the wagon, again, and Maurice is hunched up in the bench, encouraging Philippe to trot faster. The contents of Belle’s entire life are jammed in around her, a moving nest of drawings and gear-boxes and packets of cabbage-seed.

aaand we’re with belle. I had to rewrite this chapter about five million times because it wasn’t working—I had planned it out too much in advance, you know, and was just like regurgitating the writing rather than writing it—but I’m happy with the textural detail of this bit. Again, sometimes it pays to use the words around what you’re going for rather than the literal sensation; in this case, cheese and paint and horse and wind, and that rough wool blanket. Home, but also chill, and travel, and being uncomfortable, and the 18th century equivalent of going on a road trip and eating crackers in the backseat while dad’s up front and the crackers making the seat all gritty and reading books in the light of the passing streetlamps, ya feel?

Lilles, Reims, Amiens

i don’t understand french geography

A tiny, delicate gesture from his long fingers; it is a surprisingly sophisticated movement for a man in a yellow peasant’s vest, with candle wax creased in the dirt between his fingernails.

this whole chapter is slightly hard to read because it’s clearly trying too hard, but i hope i got across (or at least, whacked you across the forehead with) the bits i felt were important: lumiere’s current emptiness, but the last imprints of who he ought to be hanging around. i also tend to mention the peasant’s vest too many fucking times, just because the image of lumiere wearing anything that’s not satin & silk is fucking devestating. also, it will be important later, and i need yall to remember that LUMIERE DOESNT LOOK LIKE HE NORMALLY LOOKS

“I am nothing now,” says the man, in a flash of vehemence so sharp it is like seeing a flame in the middle of the forest. He looks up to her—his face broad, and white; and it is an empty face, and beyond the fire in his words there is nothing there at all. It is as if someone washed out all his color, and left him only with his yellow vest.  

you can tell, again, this is a lumiereswig fic because suddenly the language is all about fires and flashing and flickers and flames and there’s probably going to be a reference to the sun fucking setting at some point

also, honestly, this was hard to write because i was seeing it as a fucking movie in my head, and transcribing ‘ewan mcgregor lies on a village stoop looking fucking dismal’ is not what literary writing is made of

He welcomes her to the stoop with the flick of a wrist and a tiny nod with the pipe,

just to remind everyone once a-fucking-gain, Lumiere Is Not Normal, And You Can Tell Because He’s Not Being Very Welcoming. like honestly if you don’t say hello by doing a song and dance what the fuck are you doing

“I knew someone once who treasured books that way as well,” he says, and a smile drifts across his face, homeless. Something in him is sparking up at the story: dim, and faint, but laughing. “He once made me read the whole Odyssey—”

ok yes thank god the fic is finally getting good again

Sorceresses turning people to pigs, and the lily-eaters forgetting their homes, and Penelope undoing the days until her husband returns

ON. THE FUCKING. NOSE

also if i make a literary reference in a fic i am almost 100% of the time trying to make an obvious as fuck connection between the two

Deeply, deeply frightened. Not of the man on the stoop—she has never seen anyone more harmless, to be quite honest; he is such an empty man, with such silent, lifeless limbs—but of the thing inside his eyes when he speaks of his past. It is Other—a thing not rooted in a Parisian background, or the empty face, or the subdued soul. It is a large streak of gray inside the man’s blue eyes, a gray empty and unnatural and as hollow as cold ice. Staring at his eyes, Belle finds herself clutching her arms with fear.

ahhhh fuck subtlty has gone totally out the window. yall are kind and see what i was going for, but i swear this could be better done if i knew shit

It is obvious to Belle that this is a practiced ritual, the sharing of the secret wine.

in retrospect this fic would be sadder if cogsworth or lumiere weren’t friends, but uhh…i just couldnt bring myself to it.

“Oh là là, he acts as if the French accent is difficult,” says Lumiere, puffing smoke….

LIKE YOU CAN SPEAK FRENCH ANYWAY, YOU SCOTTISH DIPSHIT.

“Get off my stoop!” yells the woman. “D’you have wine down there, Lumiere?“

“If you cannot take a little cheap wine, get yourself to bed, grandmother,” calls Lumiere.

and that’s called taking yourself too seriously and referencing your own fic from a few chapters ago

“Mrs. Potts, the crockery-man’s wife,” says Lumiere, and takes a large gulp of the wine. “I barely know her. Thank God.”

PROBABLY THE BEST LINE IN THIS FIC SO FAR. fucking love the simplicity that does so much more than every labored reference to emtpy fucking limbs or colorless eyes beforehands. one simple line and we’re all fucking realizing THE EXTENT OF ALL THIS SHIT

i gotta head off now but i’ll do the rest later tonight

[send me one of my fics (or a bit from a fic) and i’ll do director’s commentary on it—ask here]