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go-to-the-mirror · 2 years ago

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@a-mag-a-day

(taking the quotes from the official transcripts with all "John"s changed to "Jon"s because it's more reliable and... stuff. there's also cws at the top of them)

Anyway, this is mostly a stream of consciousness ramble as I listen to the episode, featuring being sad about Jon Sims, talking some more about how the fear entities work, some Lines that I am very eyes emoji towards, and Lorell St John defending.

Also here's a meta that I really like that is sorta related to this episode. Here is is on the wayback machine, and here is the previous meta.

"iT wAs SuPPosED tO bE a GlOriOuS dAY" sorry ive heard this ad so much-

I like Georgie, I just wish that she liked Jon. Like, I understand why she left, but it just makes me really sad, like couldn't she just give him a chance?

ARCHIVIST (weakly) That's a very good question.

HE MAKES A GREAT ENTERANCE! DRAMATIC BASTARD :3

ARCHIVIST Six... Uh, the others? T-Tim, is he...? ... Oh.

ARCHIVIST Honestly, I, I think I'm alright. (Georgie sighs deeply) ARCHIVIST I mean, that's... good, right? I- GEORGIE After a six-month long coma? No, it's not. This isn't how it's supposed to go, Jon. ARCHIVIST I- What? You'd prefer I was brain damaged? D-Dead? BASIRA Jon... ARCHIVIST What? BASIRA Georgie, could you give us a minute? There are some things we should probably discuss? GEORGIE (Irritated) Fine. ARCHIVIST Georgie, I- GEORGIE Jon, if this really is a second chance, please try to take it. But I don't think that it is. ARCHIVIST Georgie, I don't--! GEORGIE Take care of yourself. (The Archivist sighs and attempts to speak.) [Door opens and closes as Georgie leaves.] ARCHIVIST What about you? Disappointed to see me alive? Basira? BASIRA We can deal with it later. ARCHIVIST Yeah, okay.

HE WOKE FROM A COMA LESS THAN FIVE FUCKING MINUTES AGO-

Like, this is my worst fucking nightmare, two people I'm reasonably close with saying or heavily implying that they'd prefer I was dead what the fuck. Just the way he sounded like he was yk, making a joke asking Basira and she doesn't respond, and he asks again and she just says they'll deal with it later and-

WHAT THE FUCK ITS BEEN LESS THAN FIVE MINUTES. I-

[Image ID: A drawing of someone leaning forward in a chair, horrified. /End ID]

ARCHIVIST (The Archivist takes a deep breath) Statement of, uh... uh... Lorell St John, regarding, uh... (small chuckle) zombies. Original statement given 1st February 2015. Recording by Jonathan Sims, the Archivist.

I remember I LOST MY MIND at that part, at him calling himself the Archivist, but I didn't message anything to my friend, and I didn't share it on my story, but I was VERY abnormal about that. Oh boy. Just um. OH BOY

People always used to tell me I was solipsistic. They said that I never really engaged with other people, never acted like they really existed or mattered, at least not in the same way that I did. And I suppose in many ways they were right. It’s hard to explain without sounding stupid. Obviously other people are real, obviously the, the way a building is real or my watch is real. They exist. If people weren’t real, I’m, I’m sure I would find them much less of a chore. So no, I don’t “not believe in other people”. I just find it very difficult to feel for others. I can’t understand them and they’ve always seemed… Well, there’s no tactful way to say it, they’ve always just seemed a little bit pointless. I know what my pain feels like, and I know what my joy feels like, but when I see those same things on the faces of my friends or my enemies, I feel… Well, that’s it, isn’t it? I don’t really feel anything

Like... same. Yk, low empathy. Just... makes you feel more distant. And it's fine, it's not a bad way to be, it's just a way to be. But... yeah I mean. Yeah. I relate to the statement giver. Lorell St John defense club. She did a lot wrong, but she isn't... a terrible person, she just did some stuff wrong. She hurt people, but like, she isn't irredeemable and... I like her. Like okay, if we're going to defend Jon even if he's hurt people knowing full well they'd be terrified, relying on them to be terrified, then I'm pretty sure we can defend Lorell for hurting people who she didn't think were people. I have feelings about her.

I like the idea that they are actually real but that her fear of them not being real manifested in something actually not being real and, in her mind, confirming that she was right, that she's the last real human out there.

There's a lot of stuff here that can point to different fears because Smirke's 14 isn't ,the end all be all, yada yada, gender. Maybe The Spiral, because she thinks she's the only one that can see them which could have led to her doubting her own perception of things, but she doesn't. Could be The Lonely, because she sometimes found herself alone, in a room only with those zombies, similar to MAG 108 - Monologue, which is similarly iffy on its placement in Smirke's framework. Word of God says it's The Stranger, which it could very well be, things that are not human infiltrating society, that's pretty Stranger. I have also seem the interpretation that they're The Extinction. Fear of humanity being gone, and something else in its place. I... I think that it's a mix of The Lonely, The Stranger, and The Extinction, but there are plenty of different interpretations, and the author is dead, so take its placement in The Stranger playlist as canon or not, your choice.

I first saw him in the street. It wasn’t difficult to guess what he was, half the people around him were just as hollow and soulless, but there was something else to him.

This could point to all the other "zombies" being just Lorell thinking they were zombies, and not actually being soulless. Perhaps.

Had he taken Norma’s self, her, her soul? Or had she always been a zombie, cramped into her little open plan desk, patiently listening to client complaints, and I just hadn’t noticed?

I can see why The Spiral could be an interpretation of this. Not trusting her own perceptions, could Norma have always been a zombie? Can Lorell trust any "real" people if she didn't notice that Norma was a zombie?

They’re all like that now. You’re all like that, I suppose. I have no reason to believe anyone will read this who would be any different, no reason to believe you’ll be able to read this, that you won’t simply stare blankly at this page before performing your response, your artificial opinion. There is every chance that I am the only one left, and the whole world has fallen to a soulless horde, devoid of life and feeling.

And here's where The Extinction comes in. Is she alone in like a different world, a domain of The Stranger, Lonely, Extinction, or whatever? Just surrounded by the empty shells of humans just like she feared. He fears manifested by The Fears, and turned into "[her] own private hell" (bonus points for anyone who knows where that's from). And that leads me on to the point of... well, Avatars aren't the only ones who can shape The Fears. Her fear of being alone surrounded by empty soulless husks seems to have manifested into being alone surrounded by empty soulless husks. I think that's really interesting.

Even so, thank you for pretending to care.

This line just makes me sad. She knows -- or believes -- she's completely alone, and the only interactions she can get are from things she knows -- or believes -- aren't human, aren't even alive, not properly. I'm just... really sad about Lorell St John. God, get her a hug, and a real life human friend, and some actual help from a real life human person... But it's too late for that, isn't it. Either they're not real, and she's in the real world, and she believes wholeheartedly that no one around her is real -- which is actually the better of the two situations -- or she's in a different world, surrounded by people who aren't people, and... well, her fear at being the last one left, her fear of the people who aren't people surrounding her, her isolation... well, I'm sure it's a feast for The Fears. I don't think they're likely to let her go any time soon.

It can be hard, though, sometimes, other, other people. Feelings. I-I’m trying to focus, trying to make sure I’m the same me as before, but how can anyone really remember that? How do you know you’re the same person that went to sleep?

Low empathy Jarchivist rights?

This gets me thinking about the whole teleportation thing, and not being the same person, just being killed and reconstructed exactly the same. What makes you you? Is it your memories? The actual, physical stuff that makes up your body? Is it something else? Is it just a feeling? I like thinking about stuff like that. Metaphysics is interesting.

ARCHIVIST I don’t… Music. Everything was wrong. Gertrude was there and then… dancing? I think? Then… pain, and I was somewhere else. Dreaming

You were somewhere else you say. Interesting. I'm sure that turn of phrase won't come up ever again. /s

To transcribe from messages to Jay Mapleejay (follow owl pls ty)

KILLING AND MAIMING "Somewhere else" EE And that's like his spooky dream hellscape Obviously you know, you've listened to the same podcast i have AND THEN LIKE OBVIOUSLY THE SOMEWHERE ELSE IN EPISODE 200 LIKE 👀UHH UH UH UH

So, that's interesting in a completely normal way.

(Oh funnily enough in an earlier message on that topic I said "I'm gonna make a tumblr post about this. At some point." so. yep)

Oh and some other thinking about the first 3 episodes about season 4 things:

what RIGHT did the first three episodes of tma [season 4] have to be: 1. Emotionally damaging 2. HAVE UH THAT??? THAT??? [referring to the somewhere else thing] 3. *dying in parallels* 4. low/no empathy character <3 she's just like me fr 5. FUCK YOU FUCK YOU DID YOU THINK YOU COULD GET AWAY FROM THE BRAIN THINKING HAHAHAHAHAH L

Jay said "relistening to tma is a form of torture /hj" and I have to agree tbh. I'm in emotional pain.

ARCHIVIST (Darkly) What did he do to Martin?

*points* GAY

Well, I guess we should probably let one of the nurses know I’m awake. I’m sure they have all sorts of tests to do, make sure I’m not a zombie or a…

Or a what Jon?

ARCHIVIST (Calling) Oh, or a cup of t- ... Okay.

AND HERE WE END, VERY SAD, JONS HAVING A BAD TIME, SOMETHINGS GOING ON WITH MARTIN, AND NOTHING IS OKAY! Perfect start to season 4 :) depression, the season.

#tma #the magnus archives #tma meta #the magnus archives meta #mag 122 #mag 122 - zombie #lorell st john #jonathan sims #tma spoilers #i have other thoughts on this but...#well #i will say them elsewhere and will not connect them to the tma relisten #yep #landscaping-your-mind-chapter-one #a mag a day

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magpiejay1234 · 9 months ago

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Going through Aqua, and Ansems scene, Jacob talked about the mechanics of Realm of Darkness in depth, and remained quite confused.

This is kind of a retcon, but the scene states that Destiny Islands' sea is connected to the Realm of Darkness, somehow much more directly than other worlds, and Kairi's message going to Dark Margin had less to do with her connection with Sora, and Riku.

The reason I'm okay with this is because this has been the case for fanon for a while, due to Xehanort originating from Destiny Islands, and Destiny Islands being shown to be close to Realm In-Between than other worlds in world maps. Of course, Triton's negative statements about Keyblade further suggests the all seas of the worlds are connected to Sea of Stars (outer space), and thus to Realm of Darkness.

(There is of the course popular trend of associating sea with darkness that goes back to Sumeria, the Chaoskampf motif. In Japanese media, sea is also associated with the depth of one's soul/heart, where darkness resides, except of course in Buddhism, unlike Shintoism, darkness is a neutral, if not good element.)

The problem occurs when Sora uses Eraqus's Keyblade to open a door to Dark Margin, when the previous scene establishes that only Kingdom Key-D (and presumably Kingdom Key, and x-blade's variations) can open a door to Realm of Darkness. We can sort of claim that remnant will of Eraqus allowed Sora to reach the part of Realm of Darkness that was closest to Realm of Light, by using a world that is decently close as a conduit, or the absorption of Destiny Islands by Realm of Darkness during KH1/0.2 established a connection to there.

However, this implies that Door to Light in KH2 was neither a manifestation of Sora, Riku, and Kairi's bond (the popular interpretation), or a manifestation of the will of Original Darkness as a response to Riku's joke about protecting the darkness, the same way Kingdom Hearts was behind the Door to Darkness, or Hearts of All Men in the previous scene opened the Door to Nothingness, but possibly a manifestation of the heart of Destiny Islands using the said connection.

This also further implies all the worlds that submerged in Realm of Darkness (which is basically most of the known universe in KH) now have direct connection to Realm of Darkness, irrespective of the barriers they share, which means Sora's actions have made more weak against corruptive darkness as Heartless can eventually find the connection between the heart of Realm of Darkness, and hearts of the individual worlds, which then causes other issues.

****

Joey, and Jacob's reactions to Pooh world are funny, but it raises questons. Assuming Jacob's assumption of KH4 being %60 in Realm of Fiction, that would mean Pooh world in KH4 would have to be Christopher Robin world, which could some implications.

First of all, Sora would have to realize he has been replacing somebody else's fate this entire time, by replacing Christopher in the Pooh storyline.

Secondly, he would have to realize for the Realm of Fiction, all stories he has been part of are stories there, and vice versa for his reality.

Thirdly, the world wouldn't be a minigame world, or a regular action, since it is post-WWII London mostly, but effectively a fetch-quest world, basically the part of Quadratum Sora is currently in, but English, and full of tea, and honey.

I guess that is to be expected since Missing-Link era Scala is basically 1500s England (even though currently timeline Scala is Greek Isles), and Nomura is apparently interested in London now.

The alternate route would be that Pooh world would be one of the very first worlds Sora, and Strelitzia visit after returning to Realm of Light, and we get the meta commentary of Sora trying to rekindle the childhood he lost in last games as a glorified child soldier.

#keyache #shitposting

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mitsukui · 4 years ago

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hopping on the idea of the joking if a guys fuck is small.... all i can imagine is george laughing and the. absolutely destroying me and mocking me for saying it

bitch i once read from this girl who had shifted that george’s dick is 12 inches, i was gagged

Explicit content below! It contains mentions of degradation kink, dirty talk, overstimulation, belly bulge.

"You're just a slut who enjoys being fucked, right?"

His dirty words echoed in the room you shared, and you could only moan shakily in response. Your body trembled slightly from being overstimulated — he had made you cum twice already, and apparently, he had no plans of stopping anytime soon.

"But you also enjoy telling lies, I see."

George held your hips firmly, only enough to leave light purplish bruises on your soft skin. A safeword had been obviously discussed beforehand, but you felt no need to use it. You were well aware that he would always take good care of you and prioritize your well being, no matter what.

"What did you say earlier?" His grip on your skin became tighter, but you felt pleasure and lust burning on your insides. Deep down, you wanted to be punished for what you had done, mostly because he would be the one to punish you.

Your lungs tried to capture all the existing air in order to form a coherent sentence, but you still stammered and whimpered under his touch. "I-I said that y-y..."

The tip of his cock brushed against your entrance, and you instantly lose track of thought. Being sensitive as you already were, you gave in to pleasure in a heartbeat once more, and there you were: moaning and squirming, entirely dominated by George Weasley.

"Hmm? What are you trying to say?" He brushed up against you faster, and you arched your back. You also tried pushing yourself further, only to end the distance between the two of you, but his sharp and dark eyes captured every single one of your movements.

"You get fucked when I say so, understood?" If that were possible, you got even more aroused after listening to his words. Your clit throbbed with excitement, and your cunt ached for his cock. "Now be a good girl, use your words and tell me what you said earlier."

While one of his hands still kept a tight grip on your hips, the other one traveled up to your right breast. He continued cooing you to repeat your previous statements with the filthiest of the words and with short flicks to your nipple.

"I-I said that your...d-d-dick is small."

At the end of your sentences, he finally thrust deep into you, his member reaching your g-spot so effortlessly. George was far from being small, but teasing him had gotten to your head. He was thick and big, but you still took all of him so well, both of you moaning at the sensation of your walls clenching around him.

"Does that feel small to you, princess?" He moved at a painfully slow pace, but you could feel every inch of him filling you up, stretching you out, and giving the greatest level of lust you have ever experienced.

So he fucked you. He fucked you relentlessly, alternating between slow, deep thrusts and fast, sloppy thrusts. You were completely his at that moment.

However, he was fucking you so deeply that something caught his eye.

On your lower stomach area, the outlines of his shaft were faintly visible. He watched his cock disappearing and reappearing repeat and hypnotically, a novel hunger bursting inside his core.

"Just look at that..." The way he moved became significantly slower, and the bulge on your skin was more prominent now. He moved sensually at that moment, his eyes never leaving your lower stomach. "I'm so fucking big that I can watch myself almost destroying you."

George chuckled mostly to himself, but the sounds produced by his throat sent shivers down your spine. After a while, he stopped moving and just stared at the bulge still present underneath your skin.

With one of his hands, he pressed down onto it, and you gasped, something new exploding inside you. Your reaction also provoked something in him because, before any of you could realize, your orgasms were coming over you.

He moaned deep and uncontrollably as he released his seed inside you, thick ropes painting your insides. His cock twitched in you, and you clenched around him, a perfect symphony created wordlessly between the two of you.

It took one minute or two until you and George were both settled next to each other, chests still rising and falling back down and silhouettes trembling weakly. That was, by far, one of the best intimate moments you had ever shared, and it baffled you how he had so easily left you speechless.

Although a couple more minutes flew by, he was the one to break the silence and to talk to you.

"I hope you changed your mind on my dick being small, babe. If not, just give me some minutes, and I’ll be ready to fuck you again. Can you take it, though?"

Tag list! ❤️ @efyra @writingsomewrongs @kellsslut @pineapplesandpinas @fiction-is-the-new-reality @hufflepuff5972 @amourtentiaa @emmaev @asthmax @anchoeritic @eunoia-kth @asimpfortheweasleys @wand3ringr0s3 @darthwheezely (yes bitch i’m tagging you bc i want you to suffer just like i did)

#george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley smut #george weasley #harry potter imagine #harry potter smut #harry potter #🌼 — personal: writings

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yelenasdog · 4 years ago

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𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 (𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐖𝐈 𝐁𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄𝐒

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: wherever they go, it seems they can’t escape each other

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 6.09k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smoking, drinking, kissing, getting ~steamy~, but nothing explicit.

𝐚/𝐧: this kinda feels melodramatic at times, but over all i think this is an alright fic that took me forever LOL! i hope you enjoy it! btw,

this can be read as ben!rog or just rog, i just was thinking of ben!rog when i wrote it

also if u wanna listen to kiwi while listening, the vibes would be immaculate and i reccomend it :D kk enjoy

✺🎬✺

Her footsteps were mute as she padded forward on the concrete, searching furiously through her crochet bag. The box in her hands stayed tightly gripped though, Roger noted. He waited a bit until he was certain she had no chance of finding what he thought she was looking for, and that he would be her last resort.

“Need a light?”

He watched with careful eyes as the girl next to him fumbled about to pick out a cigarette from the nearly emptied box, probably just some cheap ones from the gas station near the dorms.

“Yes, thanks.”

The brunet nodded, bringing his forward to her’s and inhaling, a few loose embers falling to the ground in a sparkling orange flurry.

Roger observed the way her chipped nails on ring adorned fingers shakily held the cigarette as she brought it to her lips, taking a very long drag.

It was windy out that night (which was the reason he was telling himself he decided not to bother with his Zippo), her silky black dress doing barely a thing to keep her covered from the chilly temperatures. He noticed the blue tint to her formerly painted lips, only a pale stain of color left behind. He also happened to notice the goosebumps that graced her exposed arms and legs, and her slight shiver that came with it.

The girl nervously adjusted the twisted strap to her purse, sending a glance in Rog’s direction every once in a while, but mostly she kept her gaze fixed on the stars above. She seemed to be mesmerized by the way they twinkled so brightly, even in the polluted sky. The bottles of liquor in her purse clinked together, and she cringed visibly at the sound, a shiver being sent through her bones.

He smiled at her behavior, oddly endeared by it, perhaps even enchanted.

“What’s your name?”

She turned, taking the stick from between her lips. Roger kept his eyes glued to the plump flesh momentarily despite the movement away from the area.

“That’s none of your business, Roger.” She smiled, a playful look set ablaze in her eyes.

He looked down, putting his hands up in mock surrender.

“How do you know my name, then?” He questioned curiously, slanting his eyes and quirking a brow.

“Your band.” Her voice seemed softer, almost a fond tone set within it.

“You’ve seen us play?”

“Yeah, you guys are good.”

“You’re a fan then?”

She chuckled, looking to her feet.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

He laughed, nodding yet again.

They stayed together for some time, silently and mutually agreeing that enough had been said. They finished off their smokes, and with that, she turned to go.

“Bye, Roger.”

He bit his lip, feeling the sting shoot through him. He was conflicted on if to make a move, not wanting to diminish his confident and cool reputation he believed he had built for himself. He settled for shouting something along the lines of “will I see you around?” (which upon thinking back over it, maybe it wasn’t that cool), to which she only shrugged and kept walking.

He could hear the bottles loudly clanking together as she sauntered off, lord knows where to. He watched her go until she turned the corner, tossing one final look in his direction before continuing on, leaving him in deep thought.

“I’m telling you, mate, she was drop dead gorgeous. And I have no idea who she is, no name or anything!”

Brian rolled his eyes, tossing his notebook across the room onto the yellow sofa Roger was resting on, turning his full attention to his distraught friend.

“Well, did you ask her for her name?”

He shook his head, rolling his eyes in a similar manner to Bri. “Yes, I did. She said it was ‘none of my business’.” He scoffed, twirling a single drumstick between his fingers while tapping his foot repeatedly, annoying Brian to no end (per usual). The curly headed man only barked out a laugh, finding the entire situation quite humorous, if he was being honest.

“But she knew the band! Said that she thought we were good. S’ like she couldn’t make up her damn mind.” He grumbled, slumping forward.

“Wait, she knows the band?”

The drummer looked at him like he had two heads nodding slowly.

“Yeah, what about it?”

Brian stood up and sighed, grabbing his guitar and headed to the edge of the bar’s stage, resting behind the curtain briefly.

“You really are thick, Roger.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” He joined him by the curtain, noticing Tim had come up behind the pair.

“What’s all this about, then?”

“Nothing.” Brian and Roger replied in unison. Tim huffed, making his way onto the stage where the growing crowd was waiting. Cheers could be heard for the frontman as he introduced himself, saying something about how the rest of the band would be out in a second, and that they were just having some “sound issues”.

“Rog, if she’s a fan, she’s probably here tonight, yes?”

His eyes widened, and he suddenly began to feel quite dumb, not that he would admit it.

“Yeah, I suppose so…but she said she wasn’t a fan?” He trailed off, confused.

“She probably was just saying that for some reason. I don’t know, women are odd, they like to play hard to get.” Brian commented, oddly flippant for how conflicting his statement was.

Roger stood in place for a moment, still greatly confused what Brian was trying to get at. He shook his head and furrowed his brows, trying to put together the puzzle of this mess in his mind.

“Roger, for God's sake, don’t think about it, just go.”

Following his advice, Roger did his best to disregard any previous thoughts of confusion, a switch flipping in his mind. He stood taller, saying, “You know what Bri, maybe you’re right.”

“Great, go on then.” He watched as Roger bounded out with a newfound adrenaline and a smile plastered on his face, rolling his eyes for what wouldn’t be the final time that night at his bandmate’s antics.

As soon as he had made it behind his kit, he was scanning the crowded room, trying to locate the girl from last night. He watched the door throughout the performance, trying to see if she might have just come in a bit late. He held the hope she would somehow show up with him in his mind, but all to no avail.

The entire night, he couldn’t shake the thought of her lips from his mind, or the way the skin of her neck was so open and exposed, practically begging for him to attack it with his own lips. And with the way things were going thus far, he was sure that pretty face of her’s would be the death of him, he was certain, in fact.

“Find her?” Bri had questioned almost as soon as they had ended for the night, the lot of them now working on cleaning up.

“Nah. She never showed up.”

“I’m sorry, Rog. Maybe you’ll see her again soon, the campus isn’t that huge, you know.” Roger’s mouth formed a thin line as he raised his eyebrows, not convinced in the slightest that the situation proposed would occur.

“At this point I’m wondering if she’s even a bloody student here.” Roger grumbled, obviously no longer feeling the initial electric adrenaline of the night's performance.

Brian frowned, placing a sympathetic hand on his friend's shoulder and patting it once or twice before standing to go finish packing up.

It was later now, and the boys were finally leaving the bar, bidding their goodbyes to those around them. Roger walked out the front (in what Tim and Brian joked was a ‘moping manner’), hearing the bell jangle above his head, ringing annoyingly in his ear. The cold air hit him like an arctic breeze (or a ton of bricks, he wasn’t sure which description was more fitting). He shook his head and blinked a few times, as if that would rid his body of the frigid feeling. He sighed dramatically and pulled his corduroy jacket tighter around himself, watching as his breath made a small cloud in front of him.

“Roger?”

He turned, recognizing the voice immediately.

“Having a pity party, are you?” She giggled out, wrapping her arms around her middle.

“It’s only me, so no. Not a party.”

She “ahh”-d in understanding, her mouth forming into a sly grin. Her lips were a pale pink color that night, her eyes a bright blue shade. And similarly to the night previous, she was graced with only a brown fringed dress, her matching boots in one hand, a lit cigarette in the other.

“Then what would it be if I joined you?”

He stood in thought, tilting his head. “I think then, yeah, it would be a party.”

“Do you not get cold, ever?” He added after a beat of silence, observing her ill outfit choice for the frosty climate. She rolled her eyes, muttering out a brief “ha, ha.”

Roger couldn’t help but bite his lip, holding back a laugh.

“I do on occasion get a little bit chilly. But I like the feeling.”

He tilted his head, walking over to where she was leaning against the brick wall of the dive bar. He turned to face her, not that she noticed, putting his weight on the rough surface behind him.

“It makes me feel,” she hesitated, struggling to find the right word, although she felt it was right on the tip of her tongue.

“Alive?”

She finally met his eyes after what seemed like forever, softly nodding. To him, she looked like an angel in that moment, the street light so beautifully illuminating her locks like a halo around her. He reached a cautious hand forward, dragging it against her cheek, down to her bottom lip.

Her mind was screaming at her to leave while she still could, to somehow not fall in the mix of the infamous campus player that was Roger Taylor.

But her heart? Well, as cliche as it sounds, her heart was telling her to disregard any reasonable thoughts and just kiss the bastard, for God’s sake.

And if anyone knew Y/n Y/l/n, they knew that most times, she would listen to the latter mentioned, rather than the former. And so after several moments of unbearable silence, she decided she would. Catching on relatively fast, Roger took her flush against him, Y/n able to feel his breath fanning over her face.

She leaned forward with a small smile, placing her hands on either side of his face. Her eyes wandered to his plump and rosy lips, adrenaline pumping through her veins. But before she could make the final leap, so to say, Brian, of all people, called out her name in a confused nature, squinting, believing that it might have been his eyes deceiving him. The girl from his 9 a.m. lecture could not possibly be about to snog his bandmate.

Impossible.

Her eyes widened, head turning immediately when hearing her name fall from his lips.

“Brian, hey!”

“Wait, you two know each other?”

Ignoring Roger’s (panicked) question, Brian walked over, a look of amazement still prevalent in his features. She moved from Roger’s side over to Brian, giving him a side hug, Bri’s arm resting on her shoulders.

“I see you’ve met Y/n. She’s in my astronomy class.”

She smiled brightly as the neon signs lining the downtown district of bars and restaurants alike, meeting Brians gaze.

“Yup, got to love Dr. Martin’s lectures.” She chuckled, the tall man next to her doing the same.

Picking up on Roger’s absolutely bewildered appearance, still taking in the situation unfolding in front of him, Brian took the liberty of initiating another conversation.

“So, Y/n, did you see the show tonight?”

She frowned, crossing her arms.

“Wanted to, but no, got caught up in the library. I have my final for statistics on Thursday, or else I would have been there.” She locked eyes with Roger, giving him a soft smile. Suddenly changing her demeanor, she reached into her bag she always seemed to have with her, pulling out those cheap cigarettes and her Zippo. She lit one of the sticks, inhaling.

“In fact, I heard your drummer was incredible, so I thought I would try to see him in action tonight.” Her gaze never left Rogers as she conversed, her mouth pressed in a line, the rest of her face completely neutral.

“But you’ve seen us before Y/n, he’s been with the band for quite some time.”

“I mean, I wanted to see him with a fresh pair of eyes, a different perspective, I guess.”

Still mildly confused, Brain shook his head and muttered something like “Right, okay” to which Y/n softly smiled at before dropping the cigarette from her hand. Barefoot, she couldn’t reach down to step on it, have the sparks die out under her toes.

“Could one of you get that, please?”

Roger nodded immediately, his boot finding its way quickly, the toe of it making a circular motion. His eyes stayed on Y/n, as had hers before. And despite the bustling city around them, Hell, even despite Brian’s perplexed stare, it felt oddly intimate, as if they were locked onto each other’s view (not that they were complaining).

But they weren’t, as she proved mere seconds later, abruptly bidding them goodbye and heading the opposite direction.

The pair of boys watched her as she went, heads tilted and jaws dropped to where if their mothers were present, they would be scolded to “close their mouths before they catch flies in there!”.

“That’s her, you know.” Roger commented bluntly, slightly shaking his head and then popping his lip.

Brian took a moment, turning toward his friend, stuttering.

“As in, her, her? Y/n is mystery girl?” He laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Yeah, well, good luck with that, Rog.”

“Why would I need that, Brian?” He challenged, putting his hands on his hips, lifting his chin. Brain kept his assumed position, moving his hand to scratch at his neck.

‘Well, I’m sure if you hang out around her enough, you’ll find out.”

Rather than shouting out at him, asking him what the Hell he meant, as he really wanted to, Roger paid Bri no attention, not even giving him a second look before under his breath saying “I’ll see you later”, and in what Brian considered to be a quite shocking turn of events, bolting off in the direction Y/n had gone.

He ignored the shouts from Brian, ignored the judgmental stares and loud whispers of those who recognized him from the band. He no longer cared about keeping his ‘cool reputation’, not when she was so close.

“Is that Roger Taylor?”, “Oi, isn’t that the drummer from the band at the pub?”, “Hey, why’s he buggin’ out?” all flooded his ears, usually followed by what seemed to be snickering, making a desperate attempt to cloud his mind from his self-assigned mission. But it was no use, as he was set on catching up to her. In fact, she was so close he swore he could smell the mixed scent that was uniquely her, smoke and her perfume.

He hollered her name, God, he yelled it till his throat was hoarse, just ‘cause he could. He loved the way it rolled off his tongue, he loved the fact he even had learned it to begin with, and that alone was probably why he adored it so much.

She heard his cries, turning where she stood and tilting her head.

“Roger? What on Earth are you doing?”

He finally met her, bent over on his hands and knees, breath lost in totality. She placed a concerned hand on his sweaty head, combing through his chocolate locks. He would have shivered at the feeling, if he had the energy. Rather, he looked up with the goofiest smile she’d ever seen, resembling a golden retriever, or german shepherd perhaps, in human form.

‘D’you wanna go somewhere with me? Hang out a bit?”

She nodded, holding out a hand.

“Lead the way.”

“Mom and Dad want me to be some kind of a scientist, study the stars.”

“Yeah? And what do you think about that.”

She tilted her head, shifting her position.

“I’m not quite sure. I wouldn’t be against it, that I know. The stars are beautiful, but they aren’t where my heart lies, I guess.”

He turned to face her, their noses almost touching. She could feel his breath fanning over her face, and the proximity sent butterflies through her stomach.

“I want to be an actress.” She all but whispered, turning her attention back to the full night sky and the wonders that hung in it.

“An actress, huh?”

She only hummed a confirmation, moving her left hand to pick at the cool grass under her palms.

“I could see that. You, I mean, on the big screens.”

She turned, and Roger swore he had never seen anyone smile so big before in his life.

“Really?”

His own smile grew, and she nodded vigorously, the two of them beginning to laugh. He pulled her closer by her shoulders, unaware of where the conversation would lead.

“I’ll go to New York. You’ll see me on billboards in Times Square.”

“Well, that’s nice to know. I’ll just be a lone dentist somewhere, while you forget all about me, having lavish parties and such. Whatever it is that famous people do.” His voice was obviously joking, melodramatic was written all over him, yet Y/n couldn’t help but still feel a sliver of guilt.

She hit his arm, rolling back over to face him. She still had a smile glued onto her lips, both of their eyes crinkling at the edges.

“Oh, shut up, will you? Smile will make it big, and we’ll meet again, when you’re on tour. Or perhaps if I’m filming where you’re performing! We’ll have those nights to ourselves, It’ll be a secret rendezvous.”

She turned to her back again, finding his hand on the damp green, her heart beating a million miles a second as she reached for it, slowly entangling her fingers in his.

“The papers will write about us, Rog, when they find out. ‘Famous actress Y/n Y/l/n seen leaving a hotel with renowned drummer Roger Taylor’ is what the headlines will say. God, what a scene we’ll cause.” Her eyes were full of excitement as she spoke, her heart feeling like it was so filled with glee that it could soar out of her chest.

“Well, I wanna know the specifics.” Roger sat up, pulling her up with him, she giggled, and the brunette wrapped a hand around her waist. She sat beside him, the streetlight by the backroad she had led them on illuminating her like a silhouette. She bit her lip and grinned, tilting her head up to better exam Rogers angelic features.

“Are you gonna have some bloke waiting for you at home, hmm? Waiting for you while you conquer the world, only for you to break his poor heart?”

“Nah.” Her answer was immediate, her eyes honest as she spoke. “Only a cactus. He’ll be my only friend. I hear it’s lonely in Hollywood, Roger.” He raised his eyebrows briefly at this, choosing his next words.

“You’ll have me?”

His head turned to look at her, admiring the way the pale moonlight illuminated her, the artificial light from the streetlamps not doing her neverending beauty and justice, in his opinion. Their eyes seemed sporadic, searching each other's faces for signs of what they were doing, possibly being wrong, but they found nothing, as expected.

The yearning had become all too much for the inspired pair, and it felt like at last, all they could do, the only thing they could do, was kiss.

So they did. Roger took her face in his hands, closing his beautiful eyes, his eyelashes barely brushing against hers. He leaned forward, joining them together, finding that they immediately moved in a perfect synchronization. They were like two sides of the same coin, and that seemed to be particularly evident in that moment. By the contrast of their lips, or perhaps the aspirations of their careers becoming somehow just a little bit clearer.

But it didn’t matter, none of it did. Not in the long run. So they pulled apart, chests heaving and faces painted with childish grins.

It was quiet then, only the crickets and the howling wind could be heard. But she liked it that way, preferred it, actually. So quiet, in fact, that Roger was able to fall fast asleep, Y/n lying comfortably in his arms. She stared at the stars, then back to his sleeping figure, her mind unable to come to a consensus on what on God's green Earth she was to do.

She settled for placing a kiss on his jaw, closing her eyes. His eyes only fluttered, never waking completely. She muttered something like “See you, rockstar.” against it, before standing up and walking away, only turning back once to see his sleeping form one more time.

That was the last time for 6 years that he would see Y/n Y/l/n. See her in person, at least.

When he woke up the next morning, he was confused to say the least, wondering why Y/n didn’t wake him, mostly wondering where she had even gone. He looked around himself, patting the green grass beneath him, as if she somehow was invisible and he had missed her upon initial glance. He had shouted for her, his throat still hurting from when he did the same thing only 12 hours previous.

He had felt out of control, like the one he had been chasing had just slipped through his fingers (which it had). He had remembered asking Bri, day after day, if he had seen her in class, even just seen her around in general. Everytime the answer was the same.

“No Roger”, “I’m sorry, Roger”, “Not today, Roger”. It was a horrible, predictable pattern, that he had enough of. He was supposed to recover from it quickly, bounce back from her almost immediately, as there was basically nothing to bounce back from.

But he couldn’t, and due to such reasons, he supposed he finally understood what Brian had said, or warned, that night before he had gone chasing after her. He got it, in his own sad way.

And over the years, she slowly faded to the back of the drummer's mind, behind groupies, and songs, and shows, and such, just for her to resurface again any time he saw her on a billboard, just as she had promised. But he never let it show, outwardly at least.

He had made Brian swear not to tell the others, never to breathe a word of it to Deaky or Fred. He was embarrassed by it, for some reason, and that’s why he guessed he forbade him from speaking of it. But how long can you keep a silly college secret from your nosy bandmates? Apparently 6 years, tops, for Roger Taylor.

“Alright, everyone. Gather ‘round, I’ve got a surprise.” Freddie had said, his grumbling bunch of friends tired from their day’s work. Though, they usually had grown to appreciate and look forward to Fred’s “surprises”, today everyone was just a tad bit too grumpy to try (a certain Roger Taylor in particular, let’s call it foreshadowing).

“Oh, stop your moaning and whining, please, I promise this will be good!” the eccentric frontman had said, something hidden behind his back in his left hand.

Rog ran a hand through his, now, blond hair, exhaling in such a way that made Freddie slant his eyes, before giving in and rolling them at his flippant behavior.

“What’s going on, Fred?” Brian had been the brave soul to ask, stepping forward and then looking away momentarily to place his guitar onto a stand waiting not so far away.

“I thought you’d never ask.” He replied, jumping down from his place on the risers, removing his hand from his back and holding out what seemed to be 4 tickets to something. He walked down the loosely formed line of men, putting one in each of their extended palms. Roger, at the end of their formation of sorts, became concerned when Brian had burst out laughing, looking to his right, being met with Roger’s face of confusion.

Freddie, possibly more confused than Roger, pressing the piece of thick paper into his hand, his gaze falling onto Brian, who now had tears in his eyes.

“Bri, what’s so… funny. Shit.” He had looked down to the slip, the only words he needed to read to know he was absolutely screwed, being “Jaws” and “Premiere”.

Now, anybody who knew anything, knew that Y/n Y/l/n was going to be in the film that was said to become the blockbuster of the summer, playing the role of Ellen Brody (though a few had said she was far too young for the job). She had been an overnight success in the film industry, gaining popularity from the 1973 film, ‘The Sting’, playing Billie.

And Roger had watched ‘The Sting’, and you can imagine his surprise when Y/n had sauntered onto screen, red lipped and fresh faced. (He had to admit, she looked great in a suit.)

After that, the assault on Roger’s fragile heart was never ending.

Billboards began to pop up even more frequently as she was to star in more films, and it seemed no matter where he was touring, he couldn’t escape her. Whether it was posters, her face printed on newspapers, adverts in about every place business was done for one of her films, he felt like he was being followed. He had even seen an article about her in a magazine, and when he had flipped the page he was greeted with Queen’s smiling faces.

He had stopped watching them after ‘American Graffiti’.

So, he figured that this one wouldn’t be any different, and he simply planned on ignoring said film until he caved, doing his best to avoid her on the silver screen and anywhere else, which hadn’t been too difficult until this point (not).

But this? This was a whole new level of being royally fucked.

“Brian, Rog, something you want to share with the rest of the class?” John had asked, cocking his head and propping his legs up on the coffee table in front of him. Brian began to speak, wrapping an arm around Roger’s shoulders, the shorter man looking up at him with angry fire burning in his eyes.

“Well, I’m honestly quite excited. The film industry has always seemed very intriguing, actually, and I’m looking forward to meeting new people. Rog?”

“No.”

“No?” John repeated, “No, what?” He waved a hand around, trying to understand what Roger’s problem was.

“I just- I don’t- I knew-”

“Roger had a fling with Y/n Y/l/n and she broke his heart.” Brain blurted out, Roger turning and immediately smacking him upside his curly head of hair. He regarded an “Ouch!” before him and the rest of the boys burst out laughing, the drummer not included in that demographic, fuming.

“Rog, darling, when was this? How did we not know?” Freddie managed to breathe out, sitting down next to Deaky on the studio sofa. He crossed his hands and ankles, his full attention turned towards Roger who really, really didn’t wanna have to do this, and who really, really was gonna get Brian back for this later. Would he untune all his guitars? Unplug his amp during rehearsals, perhaps put hair remover in his shampoo? But, that would have to wait until after he was forced to spill his 6 year secret.

“It was in 69-”

“69?!” Freddie had cried out. “It’s been 6 bloody years? And you didn’t think to tell us?”

“Well I didn’t really see a reason it would be necessary to tell you all! In fact, I probably wouldn’t have told you ever if this bloke didn’t have such a big mouth!”

“Hey, watch it.” Brian weighed in, crossing his arms and fluttering his eyes.

“Look, Roger I really don’t see the issue here. We go to the premiere, you just keep a low profile and ignore Y/n, problem solved.” John cut in, trying to be helpful.

Keyword: trying.

“And how exactly will I do that?”

“We will behave, I promise.” Freddie added, though Roger seemed to be having a difficult time believing him or his claim for the others. So Roger only scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, I’m sure you will.”

Cameras were flashing brightly, reporters and such were shouting loudly, and Y/n was already exhausted.

Her red lips were painted like DeAngelo had done it himself, and her hair was styled just the way she liked. The heels she was wearing per request of her stylist, though, were horrible. They looked lovely, yes, but they were digging into her poor ankles, and she still had to wear them for who knew how long. She didn’t complain, though, she wouldn’t dream of it.

She would just continue her slow walk down the carpet, a sultry smile on her face. The black fabric of the gown she was wearing fit her beautifully, snug in all the right places.

She sure hoped it was, at least. Especially because she knew that he would be there.

Roger Taylor, the blessed drummer that managed to make a home in the backburner of her mind, his success coming as no surprise to the actress. She had loved every one of their records, and rather than running from his work like Roger had, she opted for going straight to the record shop, purchasing any and every Queen album in her sight. When she had checked out, the very shocked cashier had made some remark, asking something about “you a fan?”

She had thought about it for a moment, thinking back to all those years ago when Roger had asked the same thing. She smiled, shrugging.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

So when she had worked up the courage to invite the entire band to the premiere (on behalf of Spielberg, of course) she was a nervous wreck to find out they had accepted. Really, ask anyone who had any contact with her in the time from then to the premiere, they could testify that her moodiness had risen like a hot air balloon.

Now, though, she was kind of regretting that she had invited them, looking over to the sharp looking bunch, all dressed to the nines. She scanned her eyes over them, catching a wave from Brian, which she gladly returned with an enthusiastic smile. Bri then tapped Roger on the shoulder to alert him of Y/n’s acknowledgment, which resulted in Y/n’s eyes widening to the size of moons.

She turned her head, and worked to finish up her walk of the carpet just a tad bit faster. It all seemed to be for nothing, though, as in the dark of the theater for the premiere itself, she saw the seat next to her be filled, a presence filling her senses.

“Miss me?”

Their hands were all over each other, not truly caring if the tabloids caught a glimpse, just needing to make up for lost time.

They had stumbled into the golden hotel both her and Queen were staying in, the swinging doors of the New York establishment blowing a cool gust of wind in their direction.

They merely laughed at the minor interruption, their teeth clashing as they both smiled momentarily. It was soon forgotten, though, both of them having much more pressing matters in their minds.

They only came to a cease in the elevator, some old couple who most definitely did not care about whatever pressing issue the two of them felt they had, standing off to the side. (Y/n could swear she saw the older woman smirk and wink at her, to which she cocked her head and smiled.)

Once back into the safe confines of Y/n’s suite, they resumed like they had never even stopped, hands gravitating towards the others form as if they were opposite magnets, unable to be separated for too long.

“You’ve driven me crazy, you know that, right? “

She giggled and bit her lip, looking up into his eyes, their foreheads pressed together.

“Mmm? I’d hope so.”

He pulled away, shaking his head, blond locks following suit.

“Really, you have no idea. I haven’t been able to shake you from my head. You’re everywhere.”

Her excitement could barely be contained at his confession of sorts, chest heaving, trying to stay calm.

“Yeah, that was the plan.”

Roger shook his head with a dry chuckle, looking to his feet and back to her when she had tilted his head up, her finger resting on his jaw.

“Well, are you into it?” She questioned, grabbing his hand and pulling their clasped fingers in between their chests, her eyes hazy with hope.

“Yeah.” He titled his head, feigning a pondering look. “You could say I’m kinda into it.”

“Shut it!”

“Make me.”

She rolled her eyes at his stupidly provocative suggestion, and he only laughed, the two of them falling onto the plush comfort of the bed in a meshed flurry for the remainder of the night.

And if you couldn’t guess what could have possibly happened next, the black dress ended up in a pooled up pile next to the bed that night, right next to the heels that finally she had the pleasure of discarding.

The next morning, it was unlike the one 6 years ago, as when Roger woke up, he was overjoyed to find a sleeping Y/n, laying on his chest with hair splayed around her. And he had to say, he usually wasn’t much of a cuddler, but for some reason he felt so incredibly endeared, that anything else wouldn’t have sufficed.

He ran small circles on the exposed skin of her bare shoulder, the comforter concealing the rest of her limbs that were tangled up with Roger’s.

When she stirred, Roger sat up, fondly watching as her eyes fluttered open and her tongue ran across her dried lips, still carrying a hint of last night's red pigment. She looked next to her, her eyeline matching up with the covered skin of Roger’s lap.

She sighed, shifting her head to rest on his thighs as her feet dangled off of the bed. One of Roger’s hands came up to softly massage the top of her head, the other against the headboard, behind his neck. She stared at the ceiling, an unreadable expression creeping its way to her features.

“We were jacked up last night.” Roger’s voice cut through the silence they shared, deeper in the late morning than she had heard before.

“Correction, you were jacked up.”

“Whatever.”

They laughed, silence soon taking over once again. Roger sighed, closing his ever tired eyes.

“Are we gonna pay for this?”

She scoffed, inhaling deeply before reaching over to the nightstand, grabbing her carton of cigarettes. He noticed they were the same brand from college, a small smile making its way to his face at the thought.

She first lit hers, then lighting a second one for the man occupying her king sized bed (though she wasn’t even slightly upset by this, quite the opposite). She handed it to him, sticking her own between her lips and sitting up, straddling where her head had been minutes before.

She leaned forward, so close their noses were to the point where they were nearly touching. She took the cigarette from her lips, blowing the smoke to the left of Rog in the direction of the large balcony overlooking Times Square. She turned her attention back to him, though it had never really left, tilting her head.

“Do you regret it?”

“No.” The answer came immediately, no careful consideration or pondering needed.

“Right.” She removed herself from him, standing and taking the sheet with her, letting it cover her like a renaissance dress. She walked over to the balcony, leaning against the frame of the double doors. She took another drag, an adoring smile spreading across her face.

“Then there’s your answer.”

She paused, Roger tilted his head, his brows lifting.

“Of course we will.”

✺🎬✺

if u liked that hot mess pls like and rb!! mwah ily go eat protein and drink water if ur able. xx hj

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morizoras-cave · 4 years ago

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Memories Last Forever (Collab with @Lozzypoz321)

Chris Evans x f!teen!co-star!reader, Chris Pratt x reader, Tom Holland x reader, Sebastian Stan x reader, Paul Rudd x reader

Genre: fluff!

Description: In an interview your costars gush over your talent and awesomeness, and reflect on all the good memories from set.

Warnings: None bro

A/N from morizoras-cave: Before this I’d never ever done a collab before, but Loz approached me and I was super duper excited about it. Loz is such a nice person and an evil mastermind and I definitely hope to write with her in the future! ;))) This was so much fun, I love you Loz :D

A/N from @lozzypoz321: I really enjoyed writing this and it brought a smile to my face, I hope you do too! V is such an amazing writer and you may see something from us more in the future *wink wonk*

“So,” Mark, the interviewer started with interest and kept his eyes on you all “I saw that on Twitter a couple of months ago, you and your costar, (Y/N), took a selfie at the teen choice awards which you won by the way” hope directed the last part at you, making a blush creep up onto your cheeks involuntary “what would you say that was like?”

Chris (Evans) laughed lightly, taking a moment to ponder the question. “Well, I’m super thankful for all the people who nominated me and her, we enjoyed it greatly and I’m very proud of (Y/N) for what she’s achieved.”

You rubbed your face with sweaty palms, flustered that your costars were saying such nice things about you. Sebastian swung his legs back and forth on the couch where he was sitting and gave a grin “yeah, I think we all are, people look up at the screen and think that since she’s so small that the fame would get to her but,” he took a pause and jokingly nudged you in the ribs “she’s very humble.”

Without meaning to, you laughed out quietly. It wasn’t that you got embarrassed when someone complimented you, it was more that you thought that you didn’t deserve all the attention they were giving you.

“Guys, stop” you mumbled quietly, earning a full on laugh from beside you. Chris (Pratt) nodded towards the camera in the rooms corner. “Super kind too” the man added on to Sebastian's previous statement.

“Woah, remember when she won an Emmy?!” Tom (Holland) said in joking amazement, earning another shake of the head from you. Paul (Rudd) laughed with everyone and ran a hand through his short hair and faked bitterness “man, I haven’t even won an Emmy!”

Mark chuckled lightly and brought his notebook back up into his eyesight, looking at his next question to ask you all. “What has been your favourite moment filming on set?”

Chris (Pratt) looked around at everyone for a second before asking “we taking it in turns?”

“Um.. yeah, sure.”

Tom (Holland) went first, rubbing his hands together in concentration, “well, it probably has to be that dinner we went to with all the cast. I remember Anthony Mackie falling over, I loved it” making you all laugh and turn to Chris (Evans) who looked as if that was the hardest question he’d ever been asked in his life. You swore you heard him mutter “I don’t wike it” under his breath but just shrugged it off, “well if I had to choose it was probably the dance battle me and RDJ had outside Scarletts trailer,” he looked at the camera with seriousness drawn all over his features and a smirk on his lips “I won of course”

Paul (Rudd) went next and he was practically bouncing in his seat, “I got to hold Thor’s hammer when he left to go eat lunch, (Y/N) helped me steal it off set.” You gasped.

“You’ve ratted me out!” shock was written all over your face. The other cast members laughed, as Paul feigned surprise. “I can’t believe you!” you said. Sebastian patted your shoulder, jokingly. “That’s what you get for trusting Paul,” he told you and you had to agree. What were you thinking?

Chris (Pratt) began speaking, taking the heat off Paul, “I loved when you guys held a surprise birthday party for me,” he smiled warmly. Chris (Evans) shook his head and sighed. “Of course, he picks something about himself!”

The entire cast burst into laughter, you included. You loved watching the banter between them all. “Hm, I’ve gotta say, my favourite moment was when me and Anthony,” Sebastian paused, winking at you in a very exaggerated manner, “stole the script all by ourselves.” You nodded along, mumbling “of course, of course. The full truth and nothing but the truth.”

There was a moment of silence, as you thought about your favourite moment. There were so many to choose from, and the thought of it all brought a small smile to your lips. Your eyes lit up suddenly.

“My favourite moment was when we all had that sleepover on set! And everyone brought their sleeping bags and mattresses, and we ate pizza and watched Iron Man 1,” you stopped for a moment, but then gasped again, all the memories coming back to you, “and then we played hide and seek, and somehow Hemsworth was the last one to be found. And then we stole the food out the vending machines and accidentally broke, like, half of them.”

All the other cast members chuckled at the memories from that night. Mostly, they smiled seeing how happy the memories made you. They were happy to have brought good memories into your life, ones you’d always be able to look back on with a smile. The interview ended, and so did the movies and their contracts, but the memories you’d made with them lasted forever. :)

___________________________

Tag List:

@hera-the-writer @marvel-madness @40srogcrs @whatthefuckimbisexual @snarky–starky @garbage-potato @lozzypoz321 @allthecreativeonesaretaken @missamericana713 @rororo06 @shady80smusicsingercolor @ireadfanficforfun @deephideoutmilkshake @rae-is-typing @sophs-library @herecomesthewriterwitch @alicedanganh @eviemarvel @idk123906

#chris evans x reader #sebastian stan x reader #paul rudd x reader #chris pratt x reader #Tom Holland x reader #avengers cast x reader #avengers cast x teen!reader #mcu cast x reader #marvel cast x reader #tom holland fluff #chris evans fluff #sebastian stan fluff #paul rudd fluff #chris pratt fluff

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firefly464 · 4 years ago

Text

The Real World - Chapter 9

:insert eyes emoji here because shits about to get real:

@i-have-this-now wrote the last part because she’s great and amazing and wonderful :D

Master Post

First - Previous - Next

~~~

Wilbur sat in his office, staring at his computer screen in dismay. It had been roughly a week since him and Tubbo had gone and visited Tommy. Roughly a week since his friend's panic attack. A week since Tommy had started acting differently. His friend had been acting secretive all week, almost terrified in a strange way. He acted as if no one could see the way he flinched at loud noises, or the fearful look in his eyes whenever someone came too close. He had fumbled around with the phone, as if not even knowing how to use it. He had talked to Dream in an almost pleading tone, begging for… something, and Will didn’t know what it was. He had never seen his friend acting like that before.

His hand traced over the long scar on his arm that Tommy had given him during his panic attack. He didn’t blame his friend at all for the wound, in fact it was mostly his own fault for trying to comfort him. At that moment, it had been clear that Tommy hadn’t actually been seeing him. He had seen someone, or something else. In Wilbur’s concern for his friend, he had reached out to comfort him, despite the fact that he knew it was a bad idea.

His stupidity had earned him a long, jagged cut down the side of his forearm from the pencil that Tommy had been wielding as a weapon. He had jerked back with a hiss of pain. “Get the fuck away from me! I won’t let you hurt anyone else!” Tommy had screamed.

Tubbo took a small step forward, his hands out in front of him comfortingly “Tommy, you’re ok, I promise. No one is going to hurt you.” His voice was soft and calm, as if he was talking to a wild animal. Based on the look in Tommy’s eyes, it wasn’t too far off from the truth.

Tommy’s blue eyes had snapped over to Tubbo, as if trying to figure out what he was supposed to do. “Tubbo? Tubbo you need to run! He’s going to kill you, he’s going to fucking kill you and burn our home to the ground!”

“Hey, it's all right. I’m fine, see? No one is going to kill me.”

Desperately, Tommy grabbed his friend's shoulders, trying to get it through Tubbo’s head that he needed to run. “You don’t get it. H-He’s going to kill all of you. You need to find the others and warn them. I can’t… I can’t fucking lose you.”

“Tommy, take a deep breath. You’re safe. I promise that we’re both safe.”

“But Dream-” he shuttered, a wave of sobs running through him, “God this is my fault. Why the fuck did I listen to him? Now you’re all going to fucking die because of me!”

Wilbur stared intently at the scar on his arm, trying to figure out what the hell Tommy had meant. Clearly, Dream had done something to him. But what? What had he done that was so terrible, it had caused the boy to collapse over a simple video clip? Will had rewatched the clip several times, trying to pinpoint exactly what could have possibly triggered the terrible PTSD. He had found nothing.

After WIlbur and Tubbo had left Tommy’s house, it had seemed like things were slowly but surely returning back to normal. Tommy had quickly gone from acting as if he knew nothing about the world around him or how to do anything, to slowly but surely returning to his old, chipper self. Even so, it didn’t feel right. Something was still wrong. His jokes all felt forced, his smiles all fake. Whenever they were in a call together, his words all felt carefully planned out, as if he were scared of saying something wrong. No one brought up his outburst, but it was clear that they were all thinking about it.

At one point, Tubbo had hesitantly suggested that Tommy get on the DreamSMP, clearly scared of triggering another panic attack.

However, Tommy had just gone silent, before very quietly saying, “What…?” His voice had been filled with a hesitant hope. Hope for what, Will didn’t know. But it was something that he hadn’t heard in his friend's voice all week, and he wasn’t going to question it.

“The SMP? The server?” “How do I… How do I do that?” He had asked quietly.

Tubbo had ended up walking his friend through the entire process of getting online, never once asking why or sounding annoyed. It was clear how important this was to Tommy, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to ruin it by teasing.

As Tommy had logged onto the server, the discord call was silent. No one spoke as he spun in a slow circle, taking in everything around him. Not a word was muttered as he cautiously moved around. The only sound that could be heard were the quiet sobs being picked up by his mic.

“Home…” He had whispered quietly, the sound just barely loud enough to be picked up over discord.

God, none of it made any sense. None of it made any damn sense, and just thinking about it made Wilbur’s head hurt. Tommy acted as though he was an entirely different person. At first, Will had just attributed his strange behavior to PTSD. A strange way of coping after whatever hell he had gone through. But now… Now he wasn’t so sure. Tommy was recovering far too quickly for it to be merely PTSD. So what the hell was going on? He needed to talk to Tubbo. They needed answers.

~~~

The next day, Tommy was sitting in front of his computer, staring at the walls of L’manberg. Looking at it made his chest hurt with homesickness, but it was his only connection to his old life. It may not have been as impressive as the real thing, but it was still beautiful in its own right. Ever since the others had shown him the server, he had spent most of his time on it. He hadn’t exactly done anything, but simply walking around the familiar lands of his home felt calming.

A ring sounded from his computer, making him jump. It took him a couple seconds to calm down enough to register that it was only an incoming call, and not any sort of attack. With a slightly trembling hand, he answered.

Silence. “Hello?” he asked, trying to see what was going on.

“Hey Tommy.” Tubbo’s voice was reserved, almost nervous in a way. Tommy could feel his muscles tense. The last time he had heard his friend speak like this was during the war. Something had happened. Something must have happened.

“What's wrong? Are you ok? Did something bad happen?” he asked, trying to figure out what was going on.

“What? No, no. We just uh… We just wanted to ask you something.”

“I mean, go for it…? Are you sure everything is alright?”

“We’re fine. Tommy, I want you to answer me honestly, got it?” Wilbur’s voice cut interrupted his rampaging thoughts. Thoughts of how his friends were hurt. Thoughts of what had gone wrong. Thoughts of how Dream might have gotten to them… “Tommy, what happened to you?”

“I told you already. I don’t remember,” he replied half heartedly, his mind elsewhere.

“I think we all know that isn’t true. Tommy, what did Dream do?”

That brought his train of thought to a screeching halt. What did they know? How did they figure it out? What had he done wrong? “W-what? What do you mean?”

“Alright, I’ll let you in on a little secret. Tommyinit wasn’t this shit of a liar. He was bad at it, yeah, but at least he could lie without sounding like a moron. I’m going to ask this once, and I expect a straight answer. Who the hell are you?”

Tommy felt like his blood had frozen in his veins. They knew, they fucking knew. Dream was going to kill him. Dream was going to follow through with his threat. “I uh, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Wilbur ran a hand through his hair. “Alright. If you aren’t going to give us a straight answer, I might as well ask Dream himself.”

“NO!” He screamed. If Will went and asked Dream, then Dream would think that Tommy had snitched. Then, who knows what would happen. “Please don’t talk to Dream about it. Please.”

Will had already left the call.

~~~

“Yeah, you’re right, chat. Hold on let me check if he’s online,” Eret said, switching browsers from Minecraft to Discord. “Yep, he’s in VC 3 with Tubbo.”

Eret clicked on the voice chat. He tried to talk yet Tubbo cut him off. “Oh fuck, we aren’t in a private VC.”

“Sorry, a wha-”

“Er… Hello?” Eret said. The two of them suddenly stopped talking. “So, what’re you two up to?”

“...Eret?” Tommy said, it sounded more like a statement than a question.

“Am I intruding on something? I can go if you’d like.” Eret replied, hoping to lighten the tension on the situation. Eret’s twitch chat was going insane, spamming questions and shouting. Eret wasn’t really focused on the chat.

“Hold on, I think we should go to a privat-” Tubbo spoke but was cut off.

“No, that- that’s not right- I- you fucking-” Tommy started, and was immediately removed from the VC. Tubbo also exited the VC seconds after.

“It is actually getting a bit late here so I guess it’s time to end the stream.” Eret tried to make an excuse to end the stream. “I’ll see you later guys. I love you all so much, thank you for all the support this stream. I think I’m gonna be streaming tomorrow? Still not sure. Anyways, I’ll see you guys later. Peace.”

He quickly exited Twitch and stopped streaming. Tommy sounded… mad? Upset? Scared? Eret didn’t know. He opened Discord and sent a message to Tommy.

TheEret Today at 8:52 pm

You alright?

He instantly got a Discord notification back, but it wasn’t from Tommy.

Tubbo_ Today at 8:52 pm

can we private VC?

TheEret Today at 8:53 pm

sure

The second he sent the message, he got a call from Tubbo. “Hey, Eret.” Tubbo said. “I… I don’t think Tommy’s feeling too well. I’m really not sure what happened.”

“Oh god. Is he okay?” Eret asked, concern creeping into his voice.

“I- hold on, I’ll dm him and see if he wants to talk.”

“Alright.”

A few seconds passed. “Oh. Oh no.” Tubbo said.

“Wait, did something happen? What’d he say?”

“He’s very… mad at you. I- Oh jeez, that’s a lot of messages- I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Do you think it’s because of the SMP? I- you know it was just a bit, right?” Eret asked. Surely, Tommy can’t be mad at him because of a video game right?

“Yeah, yeah, but he’s… he sounds pissed, man. I don’t know wha- Oh. Shit, hold on, he wants to be added in the call. You okay with that?”

Honestly, Eret wasn’t sure. “Uh- yes?”

“Eret.” Tommy’s voice rang through the call. His voice was quiet and stable, unlike his usual self. “What the fuck.”

“I- I’m sorry? I don’t know what I did wrong. Was it the SMP? You know that was a-”

“You could’ve been on the right side of history, Eret. You could’ve-”

“Tommy, calm-”

“Instead, you chose to loot us and leave us for dead. You chose power. You chose to be with Dream.”

Wait, were they supposed to be in character? Eret just ended his stream, so was Tubbo streaming? Or was it something else?

He immediately switched into character, hoping it was the right move. “Well, it wasn’t hard for me to choose. You were fighting for something futile, something you didn’t guarantee. I chose Dream because you were fighting a losing battle, and I didn’t want to get the short end of the stick.”

Whilst he was talking, Eret sent Tubbo a Discord message.

TheEret Today at 9:12 pm Are you and tommy streaming?

Tubbo_ Today at 9:12 pm no?

TheEret Today at 9:12 pm so i’m not supposed to be in character?

Tubbo_ Today at 9:12 pm uhh yeah

Before Eret could wrap his head around the situation, another person joined the call. It was Wilbur. “Dream said you have 48 hours, Tommy wh- wait, why is Eret here?”

Before Eret could respond, he was kicked from the call. He stared at his monitor in stunned silence, not entirely sure of what had just happened. Tommy had seemed so mad at him for his “betrayal,” even though none of them were supposed to be in character. Why was he so upset? And why did Wilbur react to Eret being there in the way that he did? Had he said something wrong? Was there some sort of planned stream that Eret wasn’t told about?

Eret turned off his computer with a sigh. His mind was racing with possibilities of what had just happened and why, but he wouldn’t be able to act on his thoughts until tomorrow. All he could do now was sleep.

~~~ On the other side of the country, a man sat in front of his computer. A sadistic grin sat upon his face as his green eyes pierced through the dim light. “I warned you not to tell them Tommy. Now, it's time to face the consequences of your actions.”

~~~

Master Post

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lozzypoz321 · 4 years ago

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Word count: 927

A/N from @morizoras-cave: Before this I’d never ever done a collab before, but Loz approached me and I was super duper excited about it. Loz is such a nice person and an evil mastermind and I definitely hope to write with her in the future! ;))) This was so much fun, I love you Loz :D

A/N from lozzypoz321: I really enjoyed writing this and it brought a smile to my face, I hope you do too! V is such an amazing writer and you may see something from us more in the future *wink wonk*

Warnings: none!!

Memories Last Forever (collab)

“So,” Mark, the interviewer started with interest and kept his eyes on you all “I saw that on Twitter a couple of months ago, you and your costar, (Y/N), took a selfie at the teen choice awards which you won by the way” he directed the last part at you, making a blush creep up onto your cheeks involuntary “what would you say that was like?”

Mark chuckled lightly and brought his notebook back up into his eyesight, looking at his next question to ask you all. “What has been your favourite moment filming on set?”

Chris (Pratt) looked around at everyone for a second before asking “we taking it in turns?”

“Um.. yeah, sure.”

Paul (Rudd) went next and he was practically bouncing in his seat, “I got to hold Thor’s hammer when he left to go eat lunch, (Y/N) helped me steal it off set.” You gasped.

There was a moment of silence, as you thought about your favourite moment. There were so many to choose from, and the thought of it all brought a small smile to your lips. Your eyes lit up suddenly.

@rooskaya-yelena @deephideoutmilkshake @kidney9-9 @marvel-ous-hobbit @snarky--starky @rae-is-typing @stargazingfangirl18 @canadianhufflepuffavenger @herecomesthewriterwitch @every-marveler-ever

#Chris Evans x child!reader #sebastian stan x child!reader #paul rudd x child!reader #Tom holland x child!reader #chris pratt x child!reader #marvel cast oneshot #chris evans one shot #sebastian stan one shot #paul rudd one shot #tom holland one shot #chris pratt one shot #marvel cast #marvel #Mcu #mcu fanfiction #mcu cast x child!reader #mcu cast x reader

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beauodie · 3 years ago

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Falling For You || Beaumee

pairing - beau odie & @aimeeblake

time - the beginning of july 2021 (like the 11th-ish, give or take)

setting - aimee and dj’s apartment

summary - beau worries that telling aimee he loves her via text ruined a milestone moment for them as a couple, so he goes to see her in person with gifts in tow to make it up to her; suffice to say it backfires and crashes and burns, almost literally.

Beau didn't know exactly how he'd upset his girlfriend, or even if she actually was upset or just confused, but what he did know was that, as a boyfriend, he needed to do better. Deciding that her issue had been with the word 'love', he had to take some action. After all, maybe using the word 'love' so casually in a text had been the problem. Beau had been essentially saying that he loved Aimee in different words ever since they got together, but it was the first time he'd used the actual L-word and in a text definitely wasn't special enough. Aimee was a romantic who swooned over vampires who had eternal love, and he'd messed up a milestone moment. He had to try and fix it.

That's why he was headed over to her room with a bouquet of her favorite flowers in one hand and a box of chocolates that spelled out "I LOVE YOU" inside with different small treats in the other, to make the moment up to her. He got to the door and knocked with his elbow, smiling excitedly. He'd had some nerves on the way over but now that he was here, it was just pure adrenaline that he was running on. He was about to make this a day they'd tell their grandkids about -- this was about to be a day that Aimee would never forget.

Aimee hadn’t been really sure what to expect when she heard knocking at the door to her and DJ’s apartment, as far as she was aware neither of them had ordered anything and she’d personally seen to it that DJ had taken his keys with him when he’d left earlier, so she was incredibly shocked to look into the peep hole and see the smiling face of her boyfriend bearing gifts. Even though she’d kind of had a fit about the whole love/care mix up over their texts, she didn’t remember saying anything that implied that he should come anywhere near her, let alone with her favorite kind of flowers like he’d done something wrong other than accidentally making her crazier than usual.

Shooing off her dog Benji, who’d she’d brought with her in case of danger, Aimee opened the door to let Beau in with a confused smile. “Hi, what’s up? Did we have plans today that I’m completely forgetting about or something? What’s with the flowers?”

The sight of his beautiful girlfriend's face was a welcome one, and it made his heart flutter and warm up like butter sliding down toast. It was like a sign that Beau’d done the right thing by coming here, and she'd see so in a moment too. "Hey," he greeted, pressing a small kiss to her cheek as he made himself comfortable walking in. "And no, no plans, unless I forgot too. I just felt like I should clear some things up and that starts with these!" He handed her the flowers, not wanting to get too carried away that he didn't say what he needed to say.

He took his a seat on her bed as if it was his too and waggled the heart box in her direction too. "And these. Come here, sit with me," he asked, waiting till they were more settled to keep talking. "I feel like I really dropped the ball when we were texting, and maybe some of that was because it's easy to get things lost in translation over the phone. So I wanted to come over here and make myself crystal clear." He handed over the chocolates, practically bouncing with excitement, and nodded. "Open it up, baby."

Aimee’s expression crumpled into further confusion as Beau tried explain himself as they made their way through the apartment and into her bedroom. But Aimee had already done enough questioning for one lifetime during their previous conversation, so she just wordlessly followed his lead all the way to the bed, certain that his meaning would reveal itself at some point.

A belief that proved itself very correct when she opened the heart shaped box and read the words spelled out across eight candy pieces. “Oh…uh..” Aimee started, struggling to manage a suitable response even as her chest felt like it was starting to close in on itself as it pushed her rapidly beating heart up into her throat. Aimee knew she was definitely on the edge of a full on panic attack, but one look up at her sweet and entirely too kind boyfriend had her scrambling in her already too loud brain to think of something to say that wouldn’t make her reaction come off as hurtful when that was the absolute last thing she ever wanted to do to anyone as thoughtful as he was. “C-chocolate. That’s sweet. Thank you.”

Beau was on the edge of his seat, waiting to see Aimee's face once she saw his love declaration. The lady at the chocolate shop had swooned at the "I LOVE YOU" candies, and he couldn't wait to see Aimee react similarly, but the more he looked at her, the more obvious that wasn't the reaction he would get. She didn't look like she was about to turn to him and say she loved him too as they rode off into the sunset together. Mainly, she just looked overwhelmed.

And then she thanked him for the chocolate, not for anything else, and it occurred to him that maybe the chocolates weren't enough. Maybe the whole point was that he needed to say it out-loud. He reached out one hand to rest on hers and he looked into her eyes. "It's not half as sweet as you. Aimee, I love you," he said confidently. "And I should've told you that way sooner because it's been so true for so long now, but I do. I love you. And I promise never to mess up one of our milestones by texting it ever again. You deserve this and so much more."

If Aimee hadn’t been struggling enough with trying to keep the rising lack of air and it’s accompanying sense of light headedness and greying vision, Beau doubling down on his gesture by resting his hand on her suddenly very cold clammy one and saying it out loud with a speech was really the final nail on the coffin of Aimee’s consciousness as the roaring sound in her ears reached a crescendo coinciding with the end of his statement and her eyes rolled backwards into her head before she promptly dropped like a sack of bricks off the side of her bed, taking the I LOVE YOU chocolates along with her to the ground.

It happened in the blink of an eye and bam, Aimee was on the ground. This definitely hadn't been the kind of swooning he was hoping for. Beau had been feeling so chipper up until that moment but all at once the warmth inside of him turned icy cold, and that cold brought focus along with it. He'd known going into their relationship that Aimee was prone to fainting spells but he hadn't seen it himself up until now; as a future nurse, and more importantly as her boyfriend, it was his job to fix it, especially since right now it definitely looked like her head had hit the floor. He got off the bed and onto the floor, laying Aimee flat on her back since she wasn't throwing up and getting her legs up onto the bed to elevate them. With a quick examination to see if she had any tight clothing that could be considered restrictive to blood flow, he turned towards the next stage of his training -- waking her up.

"Aimee, baby, come on," he yelled, shaking her by the shoulders. First-aid training was so much easier on a dummy than on a real life person, especially when that person was someone he cared about. He didn't like yelling at people, or jostling them, or anything else like that, but like the classes always said, it was better to have an annoyed patient than a dead one. He knew this happened to her often but any head injury or loss of consciousness should earn a one way ticket to the doctor, just in case. It was hard to plan ahead though when he had a sinking feeling that this reaction on her part wasn't a happy one. There were more important things happening than whether or not she loved him back, but the feeling that his gesture had gone wildly wrong was harder to shake than an unconscious Aimee was.

Being no stranger to waking up on the ground, Aimee wasn’t too shocked when she got shaken back into consciousness. Mostly just embarrassed and still a little dizzy from the fainting, the shaking and the cause of the whole shebang. “At least I wore cute underwear with this skirt.” She weakly attempted to joke, in reference to way she found herself positioned on the floor before trying to sit herself up slowly. Since this was Beau’s first time seeing her eat shit way that was much worse than her just never being able to walk in a straight line without finding something to trip on, Aimee wanted to lighten the mood with her best attempts at humor.

Beau let out a huge breathe of relief when Aimee started waking up and he reached under her beautiful head gently to support it. He gave her joke a little smile, but it wasn't a fully convincing one, on account of still being kind of scared that his girl had crashed to the ground -- and that maybe he'd been the reason why. "Yeah, at least there's that." He cocked his head to the side, examining her eyes. "And you're able to talk and joke so that's a good sign too. It's probably going to be a little annoying but I've got a few questions for you. Do you know what year it is? What seven times seven is? And uh, what's the last thing you remember?" He could feel his face heating up at that last question but it was a standard one when making sure someone hadn't hit their head too hard and he had to follow protocol.

Aimee usually didn’t like being touched and watched too hard after fainting, since she didn’t like being fussed over in general. But Beau had always been the exception to that disdain anyway and she could tell he was seriously freaked out after he fall, so she didn’t push him away like her instinct was screaming for her too when he started examining her eyes or make up bitchy little joke answers when he started questioning her.

“It’s twenty twenty one, you know I’m bad at math so this question is unfair, and…you were telling me that you love me.” Aimee recited dutifully, only coming to a awkward pause when she had to repeat what they both had to know was the cause of her panic attack and subsequent faint, but she answered it anyway since she’d already been a freak enough for one day and faking amnesia about the entire event was her only other viable option.

He grinned a little bit at the math bit but then she mentioned the love part and his smile cracked a bit; in all fairness, Beau knew that that's what she would have to say, but it hurt more than he expected being reminded that she fainted because of what was supposed to be a sweet gesture. "Okay, yeah, I'd say you don't have a concussion," he assessed, giving her some space finally so she could sit up if she wanted to. "Which is good because that means you don't have to see a doctor unless you really, really want to. Ummm..."

Beau paused for a moment, not sure how to proceed. "I'm sorry. I didn't think that would happen if I...yeah." It was so hard to choke out an apology, because he hated the idea of being sorry for loving her, but if it wasn't for that, she wouldn't have been in danger in the first place. "Can I ask though like... what did I do wrong?" That last part escaped before he could help himself but he was almost glad he did. Open communication was important for relationships, after all.

“To be fair. I didn’t know that would happen either. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Aimee sighed, taking a second to assess how she felt physically before sitting up fully to assess how she felt emotionally. She’d spent so long freaking out about his feelings that she hadn’t devoted much time to think about her own.

“Everything was perfect. Exactly the way I’d want to be told something like that. Well mostly…” she muttered, scrapping some chocolate out from underneath herself so that it wouldn’t completely ruin her outfit. “Have I ever mentioned that I’m like the pickiest eater in the world and not really the biggest fan of chocolate? Not that it’s why I fainted but it is worth mentioning, I think? Although I guess pop rocks aren’t really a candy you can use to spell out I love you? Unless you want to use the packets but that seems more like something to do for high school homecoming invitation than for a real adult love declaration probably. Not that I ever actually got invited to—“ She cut herself off suddenly when she realized that she was starting to ramble about absolutely nothing of substance.

Aimee took a breath and took Beau’s hand in hers, kind of like he did before she went and ruined the whole thing, “I’m sorry let me start over? You did a very good job, Beau and I really like that you came here to make up texting it to me. I think…I mostly just freaked because.. I don’t know if I’m ready to say it back. YET.” Aimee nervously looked into Beau’s eyes to see if he would be mad or sad that she couldn’t return the sentiment before plowing on. “I’d like to say it to you someday, if you’re okay with waiting for it. But… quietly, without making it a whole thing .”

Beau had to stop himself from interrupting her, but it was hard; how could she claim he did nothing wrong when she'd ended up knocked out on the floor? That was textbook definition of something going wrong, but then she cut herself off and his breath halted in his throat as understanding struck him. If the way he'd done it was perfect and exactly the way she'd want to be told that, then the problem was... him. It was the Beau of it all. And he'd known going into their original agreement that Aimee had feelings for someone else, so it shouldn't be a surprise and yet it was, though it made sense the more he thought about it. Aimee was a lifelong hopeless romantic and had no doubt imagined being told someone loved her before, but it was DJ she'd been imagining all these years. Tall, handsome, princely DJ who would've known better than to nearly shock her into a concussion and would've used Pop Rocks instead of chocolate, and who he'd never be able to be or even live up to.

Thinking that way was defeatist though. Just because he'd never managed to become as important to Aspen as her lifelong childhood friends had been didn't mean he couldn't crack in there with Aimee. He cared about her so much and he was already making mental notes like never giving her chocolate ever again, or that she'd never been asked to homecoming so that maybe, this year, when Auradon Prep had their homecoming, he could ask her to go to a makeshift dance with him with Pop Rocks spelling out "You Pop Rock My World" or something corny that would hopefully make her smile. And maybe the fact that she said yet, that she wanted to say it to him someday, was good enough. It was absurdly sad to him that she couldn't say it back yet, but his rational brain told him that it was in fact pretty soon in a relationship to drop the L-bomb and if all it took was time...

"You're worth waiting for," he assured her, biting his lip as he contemplated what to say next. He wanted to swear to never make something 'a whole thing' ever again, but he was starting to think it was just part of his relationship-personality and he didn't want to lie to her, especially because the idea of someone actually loving him back someday filled him up with so much chaotic energy that it was like dropping a Mentos into the Coke bottle of his soul. "I can't promise to be super quiet when you say it back, because it'll feel like... it'll feel like everything. But I can promise not to pressure you to say it back, ever. I'm just happy to be with you, Aimee. I really, really am, and as long as you're happy to be with me too, then I think we're okay...right?"

Aimee let out a sigh of relief at Beau assuring her that he would wait for her to say it back. She figured that he probably wouldn’t be super lowkey when she did eventually say it back, but considering when he said it she responded by fainting it was probably fair. Everyone had their things and if her’s was a particularly hateful vasovagal syncope then who was she to deny him being over the top. Besides hadn’t she been waiting her entire life for a boy who could love her as loudly as Beau was more than willing to? Shaking off the tiny niggling thought that reminded her that she hadn’t wanted just any boy, Aimee leaned over and kissed Beau soundly on the lips for a few seconds before pulling back and smiling. “I am more than happy to be with you, Beau. So as far as I’m concerned, we’re better than okay. We’re perfect”

He was somewhat nervous waiting for a response, as if Aimee were about to tell him that she wasn't as happy as he was and that they should just end this now; he wasn't sure why he felt so insecure but if pressed, he'd chalk it up to his past relationship, where he didn't see the end coming at all and then suddenly, boom, he was thrown to the curb like he meant nothing the whole time.

\But Aimee wasn't like that. Beau knew in his heart she wasn't like that, and if he needed reassurance, her lips against his worked wonders. He kissed back enthusiastically, happily, and her words just took it to another level. "Perfect," he repeated before leaning back in and capturing her lips with his again.

#para #aimee #para: aimee #para: falling for you #//titles are hard but here you go!

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omgjasminesimone · 5 years ago

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Running Epilogue

Colt x MC

Previous Part: Part 3

Bonus: Interlude, Ficta

Author’s Note: A short epilogue to Running! AKA my big chance to write Colt as a daddy.

Word Count: ~1500

“CT, come here.” Colt beckons, standing at the fence behind the dugout.

Colt Teppei Kaneko tries to ignore his father, drawing patterns in the dirt with his bat. Colt is left looking at the ‘Kaneko 3’ emblazoned on the back of his son’s red jersey as he refuses to turn around.

Colt’s jaw clenches, not appreciating being ignored. If this is what CT is like at only 7 (although he’s almost 8), he can only imagine the attitude he’s going to give him as a teenager. “Colt Teppei Kaneko, come here.” Colt repeats.

CT reluctantly stands, the use of his full name letting him know that his dad means business. He leaves his teammates to approach the fence. “What Dad? I’m up to bat soon, so make it quick.” He demands with the slight southern drawl that he’s picked up from his classmates.

Colt quirks a brow at the attitude in the statement, so CT amends his response. “I meant, what did you want to talk about?” After a few moments, he adds “Sir?” for good measure.

“Don’t be afraid of the ball. You’ve got this. Do it just like we practiced, okay?” Colt coaches.

CT nods. “Got it. Can I go now?”

Colt frowns but nods anyway. CT runs back to his teammates, joining them on the dugout bench as he awaits his turn at bat.

Colt returns to the spectator stands, taking a seat beside his wife and toddler daughter. Ellie adjusts Bailey in her lap, scooting over a little to give Colt more room on the bleachers. Bailey claps excitedly as her big brother heads up to home base to bat. “Go CT!!!” She cheers adorably, in that way only an adorable almost-3-year-old can.

The first pitch is thrown, and CT doesn’t swing. “Strike one!” The umpire calls.

Colt’s jaw clenches. He should have swung at that one. The pitcher throws again, and it’s clearly a ball but CT swings anyway, getting his second strike.

“Unbelievable.” Colt mutters under his breath, and Ellie gives him a dark look.

“This is supposed to be fun for him Colt.” Ellie admonishes.

The pitcher throws again, a perfect pitch. CT swings early, and the ball soars past him into the catcher’s mitt. “Strike three! You’re out!” The umpire calls, a little too joyfully for Colt’s taste.

“All those hours at the batting cages, and in the backyard, wasted.” Colt mutters, slouching in the bleachers as CT heads back to the dugout, looking dejected.

“It’s just a game.” Ellie reminds him.

“But I know he’s better than that. He’s great at home. He has stage fright or something. That’s a serious issue we need to nip in the bud before it follows him his whole life.” Colt explains his irritation. “CT!” He yells out, “Get out of your head!”

CT flushes, looking embarrassed as he continues to the dugout.

“You’re so embarrassing.” Ellie insults, but there’s fondness in her tone.

“You’re one to talk. You practically fought that mom at Bailey’s tap recital.” Colt retorts.

“She was a bit-“ Ellie cuts herself off, remembering that her toddler soaks up curse words like a sponge. “B-I-T-C-H” She spells out.

“Who’s a bitch? Hope you’re not talking about me!” Raya, Colt’s mother, announces as she approaches the family.

“Bitch bitch bitch.” Bailey predictably parrots. Ellie shoots a somewhat annoyed gaze at her mother-in-law, but Raya doesn’t notice as she gets situated.

“Hey ma.” Colt greets, letting his mom plant a kiss to his cheek as she squeezes between him and Ellie.

Raya plants a kiss to Bailey’s dark hair, and then gives Ellie a one-armed hug. “How’s he doing?” She gestures to CT with a tilt of her head as she searches through her bag for snacks.

“Just struck out.” Colt reveals, taking the cold water his mom offers him. It’s another hot day in North Carolina, and although they’re in the shade there’s no escaping the humidity. He always misses LA in the summer.

“Coltie baby, it’s okay! You’ll get them next time sugarplum!” Raya yells out.

CT grimaces as his teammates chuckle. “God Grandma, don’t call me sugarplum in public!” He bites back.

Raya gives CT an apologetic look, making a motion to zip her lips. “I guess I’m embarrassing now. I thought I had a few more years until my grandbaby got too big for nicknames.”

“CT is 7 going on 17.” Ellie jokes, resting a reassuring hand on Raya’s knee.

“Well, give me my baby. You’re not embarrassed by me, are you sweetie?” Raya asks, taking Bailey from Ellie and pulling her into a hug.

“I’m not a baby gramma. I’m going to be this big!” Bailey exclaims, raising three fingers when she pulls away.

Raya smiles fondly. “My my, what a big girl!” She praises, handing Bailey a popsicle from her bag. She turns to Colt. “What are the plans for the b-i-r-t-h-d-a-y p-a-r-t-y tomorrow?” She asks.

Colt rolls his eyes. “It’s not a surprise party mom. Bay knows she’s having a party tomorrow. It starts at noon at Chuck-E-Cheese. Try not to be late like usual.”

“I’m fashionably late.” Raya insists, turning her attention back to the game as CT’s team gets their third out and switches to the outfield.

CT catches the first hit by the other team, throwing it to first base in time to get the other player out.

“Great catch CT!” Colt calls out, beaming with pride. CT grins back before exchanging high fives with the first baseman. Colt’s phone starts to vibrate in the pocket of his basketball shorts. He checks the caller ID and sees it’s his property manager.

“Hey Jim, what’s up?” Colt answers. He listens to Jim’s concerns about the new trailer park Colt has just acquired. They’re major money makers, with the land rent he gets to collect. “That’s not the price he quoted last week.” Colt complains, attention still half focused on the baseball game. Jim continues, but Colt gently cuts him off. “Jim, I’m at my son’s baseball game. I’ll call you back in an hour. Yeah, okay, thanks.” Colt ends the call.

Ellie looks at him curiously. “Problem?” She asks. Ellie got her real estate license while pregnant with Bailey, and now sells houses. Her contacts come in very handy in Colt’s line of work.

“It’s nothing.” Colt assures.

“Bailey, you’re getting popsicle all over my skirt.” Raya complains, handing Colt his now sticky daughter, melting popsicle getting everywhere.

“I could have told you not to give her that.” Colt informs his mother, pulling a packet of wet wipes from his pocket. He takes the mostly finished popsicle from Bailey, popping the rest of it into his own mouth before tossing the stick into the trash. He cleans off Bailey’s sticky hands, and wipes at her face despite her squirming.

Raya heads off to the bathroom to try to get the stains out of her clothes.

Colt uses the wet wipe on the ends of Bailey’s hair, where she’s somehow managed to get popsicle. He pulls a hair tie from his wrist (ever since his daughter’s hair started getting long, he’s found that he always has a hair tie around somewhere) and gathers Bailey’s dark hair into a messy bun.

Bailey reaches into her grandmother’s bag, looking for more snacks. She triumphantly pulls out some animal crackers.

CT’s team gets a third player out, and heads back to the dugout for their turn at bat.

Colt starts to hand Bailey to Ellie. “And where do you think you’re going?” Ellie asks, not reaching out to take Bailey.

“He’s getting another pep talk.” Colt informs her.

“He doesn’t want one.” Ellie insists.

“Well, he’s getting one anyway.”

Ellie rolls her eyes but doesn’t try to stop him. “Take your daughter, I think you’ll be better behaved with her there.” Ellie demands.

Colt places Bailey on his shoulders, and she grasps at his hair with one hand. Good thing her hands are no longer sticky. “No crumbs in my hair this time, okay Bay?”

“Otay Daddy.” Bailey promises.

Colt smiles fondly, resting his hands on his daughter’s legs to steady her. “Otay.” He parrots.

Colt approaches the chain link fence behind the dugout once again. “CT.” He calls, and this time his son comes without further prompting. “Great job in the outfield. Carry that momentum with you to the plate. You’re beating yourself out there, you just need to be confident.” Colt assures him.

“Go CT!” Bailey adds, continuing to munch on the last few animal crackers in the packet.

“Bailey is getting crumbs in your hair.” CT informs his father.

“Of course she is.” Colt acknowledges, quickly returning to the task at hand. “Play your best. I know you can do it.”

“I’ll try.” CT promises.

“That’s all I ask of you.” Colt responds, giving his son a fond smile before heading back to the bleachers.

Bailey finishes the animal crackers and starts to pick the crumbs out of her father’s hair, eating those as well.

“Bailey Grace Kaneko!” Colt admonishes. “You are not a monkey, don’t eat crumbs out of my hair!”

Bailey laughs and starts making monkey noises as she continues to do as she pleases, munching on the crumbs. Colt takes her off his shoulders when they reach Ellie, handing the toddler over to her mother.

“Your daughter is out of control.” Colt tells her.

“When she’s being bad, she’s your daughter.” Ellie retorts before placing a kiss to Colt’s lips.

taglist: @brightpinkpeppercorn @choicesarehard @lovehugsandcandy@desiree-0816 @regina-and-happiness @iplaydrake @hazah @maxwellsquidsuit @eileendannie @liamzigmichael4ever @lady-dianelewis @client-327 @cora-nova @umiumichan @angrypainterfarmopera @badchoicesposts @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction @sparklinglilac @pixel-thirsty @mrskaneko @lovemychoices

#colt kaneko #colt x mc #ride or die #choices fanfiction #playchoices

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weaselandfriends · 5 years ago

Text

Hymnstoke XIV

Like Act 2, Act 4 opens with a walkaround game.

I didn't comment much on the game at the beginning of Act 2, despite it being one of those much-discussed multimedia elements that make Homestuck so distinctive. In Act 2, the movement from linear story to game serves several purposes. First, it demonstrates an increase in scope, both in terms of Homestuck's story and in relation to Hussie's previous effort, Problem Sleuth. While Act 1 incorporated a couple of new elements not seen in other MSPA comics, such as protagonists capable of speech and a handful of simple videos, the Act 2 walkaround is the first dramatic increase in what readers could have reasonably expected from the comic at the time.

Secondly, the novel concept of incorporating a game into the story corresponds to and emphasizes the novel concept of SBURB within the narrative of Homestuck. Just as the world in which John now finds himself is completely new and unexpected, so too are the readers introduced to this world through a new and unexpected medium. This world is even called the "Medium"—and surrounding a space (Skaia) described as a crucible of pure creation. I previously discussed the significance of SBURB's geography in regards to Gnosticism, but one could also interpret it as a statement on Homestuck as a creative enterprise. A crucible of pure creation through which a new world, or a new mode of expression, will be built. Like how John and friends attempt to create a new world from the fragments of the old, Hussie creates a new kind of story from the fragments of all types of storytelling that came before it. Image, text, video, sound, game—Homestuck strings together these disparate modes of expression into an original creation. In short, the method by which Homestuck is presented mirrors its explicit thematic content.

Wikipedia defines phenomenology as "the philosophical study of the structures of experience and consciousness." Remember how I mentioned that the modernists were often concerned with the conscious and subconscious, and how many attempted to reach truth by depicting the subconscious? Similar concept here.

I was introduced to the term "phenomenology" in relation to art history. In particular, my professor applied the term to modernist painting and sculpture that was designed so that the act of experiencing it changes its meaning. Let's take the following sculpture:

"Sculpture?" you may ask. Yes, I know. It looks more like a misshapen industrial structure. The problem with this sculpture is that no single photograph can truly depict it. Here's the same sculpture from a different vantage:

Another:

Still another:

Top down:

Is this sculpture broader at the bottom or at the top? What shape is it, exactly? You can find this sculpture at the University of California, Los Angeles, and you can even go inside it through the opening visible in some of the photographs. Inside, it takes on a completely different appearance, although unfortunately I couldn't find any good pictures of the inside that didn't have a gigantic Getty Images watermark on them.

In art, this phenomenological experience often boils down to optical illusion or a similar technical trick that appears novel at first but lacks much substance beyond its presentation. What meaning can we derive from this experiment or others like it?

I believe that the phenomenological creations of the modernists eventually reached an apotheosis in a more contemporary form of creative expression: Video games.

The way the player perceives a video game, even a video game you might consider simplistic or linear, is directly affected by how the player plays the game. Take, say, Super Mario Bros. (1985) for the Nintendo Entertainment System. In this game, the player moves Mario left to right to reach a fixed goal. But even this game is affected immensely by the innumerable choices each player makes in playing the game. For an extreme example, compare how a speed run of Super Mario Bros. looks compared to any casual experience of the game. Some elements of the speed run even involve elements assuredly not intended by the game's creator (glitches, for instance). But even at a less extreme level, every player's experience of Super Mario Bros. will differ depending on the routes they take to reach the end, the strategies they employ to evade obstacles, or even the amount of times they die before finally succeeding.

Why do I bring this up? The concept of phenomenology ties into Homestuck's "reader participation" elements, both via the prompt suggestions early on and the more psychological effect the fandom has on Homestuck's development in its back half. Of these two "reader participation" elements, the latter is the one that is probably better described as "phenomenological," in that it is the readership's perspective of Homestuck that eventually drives its trajectory (as opposed to the prompt suggestions, from which Hussie could pick and choose at will). In the back half of Homestuck, the narrative plays more and more on the author's interpretation of the readership's interpretation of the narrative, becoming a perspectival mobius double reach-around where the true driver of the narrative's creation becomes increasingly unclear.

But more specifically, I want to discuss this walkaround game at the beginning of Act 4 in particular. Compared to the one at the beginning of Act 2, this walkaround is not increasing Homestuck's scope. John is entering a new location, but the experience is less novel than entering the Medium in Act 2, both in terms of John's perspective and the reader's. While the Act 4 walkaround features mechanical improvements (inventory, combat) over the Act 2 walkaround, it is still essentially the same thing: a video game. The reader has seen this before in Homestuck. It's not new.

I cannot speak for the experience of every reader, but each time I read Homestuck I am tempted to skip this walkaround entirely. The combat mechanics are banal, the camera is zoomed too close to John to allow for satisfying exploration of an unfamiliar world. In Act 2, the walkaround takes place in an area with which the reader is already geographically acquainted (John's house), so the camera issues are less apparent. But trying to navigate this twisting maze of blue paths, surrounded on all sides by nondescript rocks and mushrooms, can become frustrating. Even if I consult the supplementary map image, I find it somewhat difficult to figure out where I am and where I'm supposed to go.

Which is just the thing. The reader is not supposed to go anywhere. There is no real resolution to this walkaround. The same, in fact, can be said for every walkaround, and we will continue to get amazingly nonessential walkarounds in the acts to come. What does the reader miss if they skip this Act 4 walkaround? Some tedious exposition on the nature of John's planet, its consorts, its customs. Superfluous W O R L D B U I L D I N G that the Homestuck narrative is quick to forget from henceforth on.

It kind of makes me want to, shall we say, skip to the end.

In Act 5, Vriska and Tavros will discuss how the way one plays a game affects the way the game is perceived. Hardcore speed runner Vriska will take my side of the argument and skip what she can; Tavros, more in line with readers inclined to learn as much about SBURB's lore as possible, will argue instead for assiduously completing every task. This conflict—between speed and lore, content and fluff, meat and candy if you will—eventually becomes the core and final dichotomy of Homestuck. But in Homestuck's later stages, the characters and narrative will apply this dichotomy not to how we experience video games, but how we experience all art—and how we experience our actual lives. I intend to trace that development, and this walkaround serves as a fine introduction.

In a few years, Flash will be deprecated and you'll only be able to experience this walkaround through this series of images. I don't know who created these images, or whether laziness or incompetency made them so shitty and SBaHJ-esque. But I give that person props for maintaining that sense of "God this sucks, can I just skip it?" Good job, intern.

You switch to PICTIONARY, a choice based on a strong whim from the mysterious ethers of democracy.

Another one of those traps, like the suggestion prompts. Wow! The readers get to pick Jade's fetch modus! What an amazing display of reader/author interaction! Except Jade's fetch modus doesn't matter. In fact, as we transition into this next phase of the story, nobody's fetch modus will matter. The fact that all of Jade's possible fetch modii are total jokes only emphasizes the point.

I mentioned in the previous Hymnstoke that we're entering what I'm calling the "clockwork" part of Homestuck. In this part, Homestuck's audience has the least amount of control over its progression. While the suggestion prompts were mostly irrelevant because Hussie could pick whatever prompt he wanted, they occasionally paved actual story or character developments ("Become the mayor of Can Town") or formed memetic jokes that would mutate over the course of Homestuck into part of its mythos. And in Act 6, the immensity of the Homestuck fandom and its increasingly vocal demands will lead to a more subtle transition in what Homestuck becomes—the mobius double reach-around I mentioned previously. But here, in the clockwork part of the story, it's more Hussie than anywhere else. Of course it would be. It's Dirk, Hussie's analogue (connected via a series of motifs like horses and robotics), that comes to represent the Meat side of storytelling, that describes the way a story should be told as a perfect machine. An unfocused, nebulous gaggle of "readers" cannot hope to coordinate among themselves to create something so precise and efficient. Their strengths lie in different directions.

Ok, have at it! If you're at a loss, click the controller button up there.

This may or may not mean anything to you depending on your current perspective.

As it turns out, the story retreads everything that happens in the Act 4 walkaround anyway, making it even less relevant. Even Crumplehat and the Salamander Wizard appear as the walkaround's events are depicted from PM's perspective. This recap is actually pretty extensive, similar to the shitty SBaHJified image walkthrough that got put up in anticipation of Flash's deprecation.

I wonder if Hussie was self-conscious about people's patience for the walkaround? Or maybe he already anticipated Flash would not last forever? Perhaps he added this recap for accessibility reasons, in case of visually-impaired readers? Maybe he felt some new insight would come from seeing the same events replicated from a different character's viewpoint? Or maybe he simply wanted to reveal that the person speaking to John during the walkaround was PM instead of WV?

I'm doing exactly what I said I wouldn't do and trying to delve into Hussie's psyche. As it stands, the addition of this recap makes certain elements of the walkaround mandatory experiences for the reader to progress, as opposed to the walkaround itself which can be ended without experiencing anything. I'll leave the discussion by reiterating the second part of the quoted text:

This may or may not mean anything to you depending on your current perspective.

And I think it's safe to say our "current perspective" is much different than those who read this first.

#homestuck #hymnstoke

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migleefulmoments · 6 years ago

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Love how they prove they stalk this blog by adopting the terminology you use to try to insult us. Is anything this posse of morons do or say their own independent thinking? What isn’t parroted verbatim repeats of what ajw says are usually hilarious vapid attempts at insults.

I have noticed a few of my words tossed into their rotation, LOL.

I don’t see a lot of independent thinking. In the fandom itself, I see a lot of parroted phrasing using the talking points created by the Board of Directors and specifically ajw. They like to get stuck on a pointless trope and they just can’t let it go. Right now they won’t stop talking about Darren’s mom going to an awards show. We will hear about that until the wedding throws them into a tizzy and changes the talking points.

As for the insults....oh lord. They are something else. This new thing where they all gang up to viscously attack anons is interesting. I find it so 4th-grade clique-or like bees protecting their hive-they all run over and attack the person who is making their friend SAD. They can’t make a valid argument, so they just viciously attack without any actual critical evaluation or intelligent comeback-just like those 4th graders. They resort to calling anons homophobes, criticize reading skills or typos -which is literally the most disingenuous attack ever as their leader is the queen of the typo. They rant and rave about how blind we are to the PR narrative and claim they themselves are so clever they see right through it. They belittle us for “wasting our time” posting comments when they themselves spend all day doing the same thing. It’s a distraction technique. Calling anons “Mia Stans” seems to be their idea of a “fuck you”. The thing is, nobody is trying to be a Mia Stan. I know there are a few, I see their comments on Twitter and Instagram, but I have yet to see an ask on a CC blog from someone who is blindly obsessed over MIa’s greatness. People are supporting Darren and his chosen love.

Mostly, the CCers’ insults serve to distract from reality but more and more they dole out silly insults which project their own fears and failings. This gem from yesterday is a perfect specimen to examine:

“M looked absolutely stunning last night. Just like she did for the Emmys and Golden Globes!! Hate her for no reason but you can’t deny the truth.”

Here we have an anon who is engaging them. in a tiny bit of trolling. Anon isn’t rude, isn’t aggressive, and isn’t lying- Mia always looks amazing.

cassie1022 answered:

Nonnie, you’re entitled to your opinion. I’m entitled to mine. She was an absolute train wreck last night. If my opinion offends you, STAY THE FUCK OFF MY BLOG.

So we start off with an insult to Mia and a rude AGGRESSIVE response

chrisdarebashfulsmiles”Check your sight anon. She looked better in some occasions in the past. And I can agree about the gg, the dress was OK but she seemed high. And believe me we have plenty of reasons to despise her and in them there’s no jealousy.

Do you wanna Stan her? Do whatever you want but don’t come here reading if you don’t wanna see something that upset you.

Here we have several of their favorite comebacks; insult anon; denigrate Mia by calling her high. Then we come to our projection: we have plenty of reasons to despise her and in them there’s no jealousy. Nope, no jealousy here, nope, never. Next the “Stan” accusation and she ends by claiming the anon is upset when in fact it is Cassie and herself who are very clearly upset.

ajw720

Oh Nonnie, I have tried to be good and not comment too much on her style, and I agree, she was fine at the Emmy’s and GG. But she managed to top her previous worst RC look (ACS premiere) with that $15,000 mess on the CCs. It looked like cheap lingerie with a skirt attached.

ajw always has to join in the fun-i’ve joked in the past that she is contractually obligated to comment on every anon/ask response in the CC fandom. She starts out with “nonnie” which is just a passive aggressive “sweetie”. She then goes right in- after “trying to be good”- and lets loose with the insults about Mia’s style, the dress, and the expense. Nobody is jealous here.

And while I don’t love the original dress, it is far superior to that thing she wore.

You can continue to love her, keep deluding yourself that what they have is healthy and she is a good person, the truth, someday, will be revealed and you will feel foolish. I just hope that day is sooner because D deserves his freedom.

She continues by calling her a Stan without using the word. Then we come to the second projection: the truth, someday, will be revealed and you will feel foolish.

flowersintheattic254

Interesting that the shirt under it makes it classier and no surprise she removed. Although if I’m honest to me it looks like corset with some bedsheets and pillow cases attached.

She stuck with pure misogynistic attacks on Mia’s style and dress. She insinuated she is classless, maybe even slutty with her word choice.

stillgoingstrongforeternity

@flowersintheattic254 to be completely honest, the shirt under was added for the picture (not sure if it’s a promotional one for the designer or if it’s an editorial one, maybe @ajw720 can tell us where she found that), she didn’t remove it. Tbh I like this editorial better than the original. But the original dress is exactly how she wore it at the event :)

Stillgoingstrong kept it to mostly to facts.

ajw720

Well if it was just added for the picture they should have kept it. Either way it’s pretty hideous. Mommy beard should have done better to represent her label.

@souly did send me the link to the dress for sale without the top part.

Truly you’d think if you had TWO purposes, enable your lazy princess in her drive to be famous and promote the brand for which you are president, you’d do much better than this.

And to think they posted m’s latest fashion train wreck the VW website.

Imagine spending that much money for this absolute mess.

ajw comes back and attacks Mia, Mia’s mom and the price of the dress again. Nope no jealousy here. It seems obvious but I need to say it: Clearly someone who designed the dress liked it and the person who approves the designs liked it and the person who published it in the magazine (with the shirt underneath) liked it and Mia liked it. Everyone is entitled to like or not like fashion but going on an outright rant about the failings of Mia, her mom and Vera Wang as well as the price is uncalled for and says way more about author of the comment than the designer of the dress. Also, because I’m being petty, I need to remind ajw that she momsplained that Darren’s parents participated in a “stunt” after the Emmy’s because a parent’s love for their child is endless. Same would be true of MIa’s mom, no?

Anonymous asked:Knowing what M posts on her SM I don’t know how mama Criss puts up with her. If she’s anything like my mother.

Mama C/riss deals with her because D is one of the most important people in the world to her and she will do anything for her son, just like most moms. And that sadly involved M.

Anonymous asked:

If Darren’s parents know mia is fake gf they wouldn’t want to be near her. They have no reason to. There’s no way that contract includes them. Then why are they hanging out with her?

ajw720 answered:

Really anon? Really? These are his PARENTS, the two people who support him more than anyone aside from C. Of course they are going to do ANYTHING to protect him. and right now apparently she needs to be integrated into every aspect of his life. One (of many) things that has lacked is a close bond with his parents, so they are trying to rehabilitate this just like with so many other things.

Never underestimate the love a parent has for a child.

cassie1022

Oh, please, keep these ridiculous messages coming. They are honestly giving me life right now. Anon, did you SEE the expression on his mother’s face in those pap pics? That’s not the look of someone happy with the situation. Love that M had to play nice and act the part of a somewhat decent human being since his parents were there. No kicks of love with steel toed combat boots that day.

chrisdarebashfulsmiles

I’m starting to make popcorn anon: your s*** is entertaining. What I find amazing is that maybe you also waste time in thinking all of this

As an actual parent, I can promise you that making nice with my son’s abuser would not be ONE of the things I did out of love. That is an asinine statement.

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secret-time-is-here · 6 years ago

Text

Double stitched (Part 2)

Previous - First- Next - Rewrite

“So… you’re basically the blue from our universe?” Nightmare asked bluntly

“NIGHTMARE!” Error yelled, clearly infuriated with this statement “Okay sure, he may have done that to his Blue… but he didn’t do what our Blue did to me…” Cross looked between his two besties, it was weird to hear remorse from Error’s -or as they started to call him, Strings- voice.

Strings was mostly calm and relaxed, breaking up him and Nightmare in fights, he would get hiped with video games or when they were on the run; but never would he argue. He still constantly expressed reluctancy when even talking about Blue, although it was apparent Nightmare knew about it.

“Sorry to bring him up strings, but that’s honestly what it sounds like, I know there are differences in the two stories but still. Although I think the main difference between you two -aside from universes- is that Glitch doesn’t have amnesia.”Nightmare explained

“Wait… you have amnesia?” Glitch looked at Strings, “Nevermind, that’s beside the point; I’m not like this Blue you keep talking about. Honestly, the one that was with me changed me; that’s why I let him go. I don’t really take prisoners anymore or collect souls as much as used to, I don’t even destroy as much as I used to despite being the god of destruction. Can you guys just trust me? For now? If I cause you any problems or you feel like I’m acting too much like this blue, just kick me out.” Nightmare and Cross exchanged looks before nodding and agreeing to Glitch’s deal.

-------

It had been weeks since Glitch started living with the Meme squad, they didn’t have a room for him and Nightmare was reluctant to let him share with Strings so until “he could be trusted” he was to sleep on the couch with a spare blanket and pillow. He was allowed to hang out and relax with the guys at least, Glitch started to really bond with everyone too.

Nightmare and Cross even started warming up to him, they’d play games together and joke around as well as talk about memes. Strings also helped Glitch with knitting and started to teach him to sew as well, Glitch’s quality started to improve quickly and he picked up the topic just as fast. But peace can’t last forever…

“What happened between you and Blue?” Glitch inquired subtly, “You just mentioned it when I first came here and it’s kinda been bothering me since. All I know you were friends with him, and that it was way worse than when my Blue was with me.” Strings eyes started to fill with error’s just thinking about it.

“It’s… it’s nothing. He gave me a name at least…” Strings spoke softly, struggling to find the right analogy.“But then again he was a lemon covered in chocolate. I dared to bit into it and swallowed it whole… at least I got out in the end…” silence followed this statement, Glitch was unsure how to process this. It left a strong of hatred for this worlds Blue, but it also created pity. For a long time Glitch also didn’t have any memory before his anti-void life. When he finally got his memories back he was happy to know his past, but it left him scared, knowing he was the reason he was like this.

“Ya know…” Glitch started as he looked back down at the scarf he was knitting, “Sometimes it’s better not to know about your past… I know mine isn’t the best. Knowing it even made me crazier.”

“At least you know your real name and what your past is.” Strings menaced

“Yeah, I do!” Glitch yelled standing up and looking at strings with an angered expression, “But you don’t have to deal with the death of your brother and timeline! Knowing that you can’t do shit about it!” There was a pause, Glitch was tense and Strings was appalled. Death of your brother? Of your timeline? The string-like tears started to rush down Glitch’s face, he put his hand up to them and pulled away… the blue strings he was accustomed to a forever reminder to his insanity and singularity.

“G-glitch… I… I didn’t know. I-” But before Strings could finish Glitch had disappeared through a portal; To where he didn’t know.

------

“Hello again… Error.” Glitch perked up hearing the voice, it sounded familiar but… not? “Nice outfit, changed your style? I like it.” Was he flirting with him? Glitch turned his head to see someone that looked like his Blue, although he knew he wasn’t. “Why the confused expression? We both know well you come here to think, what’s got you down this time? Your besties,” the word was laced with more venom then a snakes bite, “must be missing you.” the last few words were almost sarcastic, as if he was trying to sound comforting but sincerely hated them or was jealous of them.

Glitch needed to sound like strings, This blue thought he was him. Glitch wanted the comfort dearly but didn’t want to spill that he was actually someone else. He didn’t know how Blue would react to that explanation.

“Uh… H-hi B-Blue… long time no s-see?” Glitch choked out as his tears were slowing, his expression was pitiful; that was just what Blue needed. Sitting down next to Glitch, Blue continued to try and comfort him, getting his mind off of it but slowly scooting closer in the process.

The glitches started to appear more and more as Blue drew closer; Glitch wasn’t uncomfortable, but he wasn’t comfortable either. What was Blue doing…?

“Hey…” His voice was soft and quiet, almost echoing. It was softer than a blanket made of clouds, it immediately relaxed Glitch and lulled him into a sense of security. Blue’s eyes flickered, the prideful blue color digging into Glitch’s soul, pulling it out and encasing it with Blue. “Do you want to come with me and relax somewhere more comfortable? My apartment isn’t too far from here, your bedroom is still there. Just as you left it, or you can sleep with me. You’ve obviously had a long day, you need to rest and relax.”

Why did Nightmare and Strings say he was so bad? He was comforting and had Glitch’s needs in mind, what was there to worry about?

“Y-yeah… that” Glitch yawned, more tired than he forethought; maybe the crying had something to do with that. “T-that sounds good…” and with that, Glitch fell asleep head hanging and body relaxed; only moving slightly forward from his slouched sitting position. Perfect.

Blue picked him up, carefully, so he didn’t wake him up and unsettle him. If he were to wake up now he would glitch and fall out of his grasp and run away, Blue didn’t want that. Although if he did wake up he’d have a high chance of rebooting, then again he would remember blue holding him without consent, and that would hurt his trust in Blue.

He continued to slowly walk back as he carried the sleeping skeleton in his arms, taking the time to think about what to do next on his way home.

Dreamswap belongs to @onebizarrekai

Nightmare belongs to @jokublog

Cross and UnderVerse belong to @jakei95

Error belongs to @loverofpiggies

Blue belongs to the UnderTale community

#Undertale #Fanfic #Dreamswap Nightmare #Dreamswap Cross #Dreamswap Error #Dreamswap Blue #Underverse Error #Underverse #mention of amneisa #display of amnesia #mentions of manipulation #display of manipulation #Double stitched #Double stitched part 2 #Part 2 #my works #My writing

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julesplanb-blog · 6 years ago

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Don’t cross the themes!

The following note contains heavy spoilers about the plot of both 1984 & 2016 Ghostbusters movies, and a tiny one - a line of dialogue - from Ocean’s 8.

“Having only girls in the new Ghostbusters movie makes no sense and is as sexist as having only males, you -”

Ok so, this is where I’m gonna cut that quote from about 78 random dudes sharing their opinion on Paul Feig’s Ghostbusters with me (so much love I did not ask for <3), because this is usually where said opinion goes from PG to NC-17. I said in a previous note that arguing with people about movies was one of the greatest things in life... provided that people’s opinions were at least a tad respectful, and a tad built on something, ANYTHING, beyond basic casual hatred for women (oh hello, guys who want to remake The Last Jedi!). That being said, I’m going to be the bigger person here and still take time to answer those 78 gentlemen with a little piece on why, in my humble opinion, having women in the Ghostbusters reboot not only makes sense, but makes it a more functioning movie when it comes to characters and even themes. Ok, let’s do this.

First things first: while I’m interested in comparison, I don't think it's relevant to try and rank the 2 movies: I personally enjoy the 2016 more, but I can acknowledge its weaknesses. It’s just than what works in it is way more compelling to me as a viewer (and, yes, as a female viewer). On the other hand, I’ll admit the qualities of the original, mostly to be an effortless piece of good writing, but it’s weaker where the 2016 shines, and vice-versa. Ultimately, those are 2 different movies, actually telling two different stories. Yes, I know, both are about a team of semi-misfits chasing ghosts. But one story focus (1984) is around a philosophical idea, and the second is about human/women condition (2016). One is built around a (fun, entertaining and functioning) concept, i.e. busting ghosts, the other is about characters paths. To the point where I think there’s close to no character arc in the original Ghostbusters. I mean think about it: how did the characters changed between beginning and end? When the film starts, they already know each other’s, have a functioning relationship and it turns out all along that they were pretty much right on everything from the start. They’re not exactly challenged on their beliefs, way to see the world, behaviours or just plain personalities, not even Bill Murray’s Peter Venkman, when this character is actually both a jerk and a fraud. Sure, Sigourney Weaver’s Dana calls him a fraud at some point, but this is a Tchekov gun being flashed without being shot, since from there, Dana is possessed by Zuul and kind of written off the movie (which is a shame). Now, I won’t make this piece a full digression on why Peter Venkman is a jerk and how this fact could make us file the movie itself under “lovable but still a bit problematic”, yet this still deserves a couple lines because when you look closely: Peter Venkman is a jerk, borderline creepy (and the movie never gives us fuel to think otherwise, for real). Actually, Peter Venkman is pretty much what the bad guy of Ghostbusters 2016 (Rowan) could have become if he had any kind of power. We see Peter act just the way Rowan would if he had the upper hand on someone: he cheats on his own experiment, abuses a student as a faculty, make creepy innuendos to women who did not ask for this... I make this point because as the 2016 bad guy, Rowan makes perfect sense. Meanwhile, there’s no actual human big bad in the 1984 version, because there’s no specific reason for the events to happen when they happen.

Exactly, why is New York infected by ghosts in the original Ghostbusters? Ok, I wasn’t alive back in 1984 and maybe there's something I miss, a reference to a historical “mood” if you’ll have it, maybe an “end of the world vibe” I don’t not know about. But between some obvious referencing to Exorcist and the general comedic tone of the film, I’ve always watched Ghostbusters as some kind of parody or reappropriation of a genre, and not a reflection of its time. And it’s okay. All of the above (well, maybe not Venkman never being called on his jerkiness): the lack of proper character arcs, human villain or symbolic reason for the infestation to happen. First, because, thanks to great dialogues & great acting by already beloved actors, we still care for those guys. But more important: because you can have great stories without it. Stories propulsed by something else than character development, such as... a theme. And 1984 Ghostbusters statement is a pretty damn interesting one: science beats superstition, well, science can explain supernatural, science beats ghosts, science beats freakin’ Gods, so man can beat god. Seriously, This is a great theme, and the script is nicely built around it, up to an ending where we see nerds vanquish a god with scientific tech. 1984 Ghosbusters makes writing choices and works, and as a movie about defeating incarnations of both childhood and adulthood fears (monsters and gods) it turns out to be a smart and timeless piece of pop culture.

Now you can argue that if it’s timeless, did it really needed to be rebooted in the first place? But see, the beauty of this reboot is that it does not try to redo the same thing. Because the 2016 Ghostbusters makes completely different writing choices, revolves around something else entirely, and if its theme also features some universal / timeless aspects, its treatment makes it a very relevant piece to the time it came out. So let’s break it down:

First, I believe its writing to be deeply entwined with characters’ flaws and development. What they want, what they lack, is the main propulsion for the story. And if we agree to say Kristen Wiig’s Erin Gilbert is our main character here, what she wants is consideration by her pairs. You can argue she has that at the beginning: teacher in a decent university, about to get tenure, but remember that to get this far, she had to leave behind her best friend and what she actually believed in. She had to fit. Meanwhile Abby is still working on what she wants but in a D-list school and only because the dean has no idea who she is. Both have to hide what matters to them to be included. And this theme as well as Erin’s relationship with Abby is one of the pivot point of the movie: the past and the complicated present of the characters weigh into the script, introduce conflict, propulsion and ultimately, resolution.

But this quest for being legit really works for the 4 of our characters: Abby & Jillian get their a** fired as soon as the dean actually remembers what they’re working on. Patty too: while she works un ungrateful job below the surface, she actually knows the city above ground better than any other character, not only places and localisation but historical perspective, arts... (It’s also interesting to note, if we want to compare the 2 movies that in 1984, Dana sees a ghost and become a client of the Ghostbusters (then a victim of said ghost). In 2016, the woman who sees a ghost, i.e. Patty, joins the team as a Ghostbuster herself. Women are no more plot devices here: they have they own agendas & needs, they’re the engine of the story.)

So you have this characters trying to be acknowledged as professionals, which works perfectly with the concept “scientists turning into ghosts hunters”. But what’s even better: it works perfectly with an all-female group of characters. Why? Well, because in real life, you can totally be denied the legitimacy you deserve just. for. being. a. woman.

It’s also completely in resonance with a movie about sorority and the way girls have to stick out for each other (Abby & Erin reconciliation). Sexism could actually be seen as the villain here. It’s a picture paint with small brushes (and that’s something to add to the film credit) but it’s there: the little jokes about online comments - an obvious yes short nod to the guys who managed to troll the movie notation before it even came out (isn’t it grand though? I mean those douchebags are so freaking predictable Paul Feig managed to write them in before they even manifest themselves) - the dean behaviour... Apart from that, 2016 Ghostbusters does not state out loud the fact those women are depreciated for being women, for it doesn’t need to. Because you know what? Women knows. And it's their freaking film.

Of course the clearest illustration of that idea has to be the bad guy. Rowan is indeed a misogynist jerk, but beyond that, is the perfect incarnation of those women antagonist in 2016. So in 1984 Ghostbusters, we don’t know exactly why the wall between the worlds is getting thinner right now: the guy behind it is a god and well, gods work in mysterious ways. But in 2016, the grand master is a human. Because that version is not about god vs men, it’s about men vs men. Because not all men / humans are equal.

It makes perfect sense her to have the ghosts being summoned by a villain who happens to be a persona of entitled jerks feeling they’re not recognized for their true value (hey! theme again!). Except Rowan / those guys are not denied respect on an essentialist aspect of themselves (being a woman, black, gay...) but because they’re actually not as good as they thing they are.

It's a (lighter, more comedy-compatible) version of that awfully sad and way too real guy who randomly shoot at people because one girl turned down his advances one day, the guy blaming his lack of acknowledgement by the society on society being unfair to him, but deciding that the best course of action is to destroy said society instead of proving it wrong. While Abby, Erin, Jillian and Patty decide to take action and working their a** off on proving they ARE RIGHT (to extreme extend too, with Erin releasing the ghost to prove a point in her need for legitimacy), Rowan just wants to burn it all, to no one’s benefit but his own crave for power and destruction. Do you see why that guy nemesis needed to be a Erin Gilbert and not a Peter Venkman?

Having women serves the movie all the way, up till the end. And as a character-driven movie, its script does the best possible thing: giving characters, not what they wanted, but what they needed. For in the end, it’s not that much about acknowledgment (though the skyline scene is heartwarming <3) for the city still ask the theam to be super discreet, it’s about doing what you want regardless of people’s opinion, knowking yourself that you are good at what you’re doing, and doing it because you are good at it. Trust me boys, that speaks to every girl here.

In fact everything in the new Ghostbusters makes sense for the viewers of its time. Which is exactly what a good reboot should do. It’s all in the details, and mostly in the references to the previous one.

The Ghostbuster 2016 doesn't aim at telling the 1984 one is bad, but states that things have changed. The references are smart and symbolic but not too obvious that a new viewer would miss a plot point for not knowing it. It’s the perfect balance: taking what worked and was good and put it in a different time. And the times, they are a-changing, people. Sometimes for the better, such as Bill Murray being again a jerk but getting punished for it, sometimes for worse.

For instance : the brownstone that the guys get at the beginning of 1984 but the girls can’t afford before the end, stating, maybe, just maybe, that women or in this instance, that this new generation will have to work harder for stuff such as rent. And take the biggest symbol / reference to the original: the giant Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.

In this movie, he’s not being defeated by high tech, but by the Swiss army knife “every girl should have on her” (because, yes, being a girl is a source of danger just by itself). While the cast of the new movie is literally being smothered by the incarnation of the previous movie, by the “good old times”, the girl who finally came to believe in herself defeats it by "being a girl" If this not exhilarating metaphor, what is? This is both an homage and refusal to say "original is better because it's the first!" Nope, times change, women are here to claim their places in movies, in the real world, and that new Ghostbusters wasn't gender swapped for nothing, it was because it fits tis day and age, and it was because it fits the theme

Ghostbusters 2016 is grounded in its time, thus being not a useless reboot but a reappropriation of a great idea, playing it across a different era in terms of economy, society, women position...

It's not gratuitous. It's better this way.

Now, I’m aware this piece comes out a bit late to end it on “go see the new Ghostbusters ladies, it rocks and those trolls are just petty men realizing the world is not ENTIRELY them anymore”. So I’m going to end it on “go see Ocean’s 8 ladies, it rocks and those trolls are just...” you get the point. Truth is: Ocean’s 8 is a decent summer movie, functioning, fun, witty and supported by a great cast.

It also acknowledges, in *one line*, why the team is only women, in a very clever, resonant way: it’s smarter to make a heist with women, because women are ignored. That’s it. The movie doesn’t say more, doesn’t need to say more. Because women know that’s true, know they’re not as visible and considered as their male co-workers even when doing an equal or better job. Women will get it just hearing that line. And it’s their freaking movie. You know what’s the narrative justification for Ocean’s 11 (11!) or original Ghostbusters to be all male? Well, there isn’t any. Because that was just default setting. And boy am I glad to see this changing. Even if it’s just line by line.

#ghostbusters #jillian holtzmann #erin gilbert #Patty Jenkins #abby yates #paul feig #ivan reitman #sexism #movies #reboot #peter venkman #feminism #oceans 8 #writing #script #character driven

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