#wrote this DURING the hurricane

[winwintea]

ᴍᴀʀᴋ ʟᴇᴇ ᴠꜱ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ↬ 5. tea time!

“Can you stop pacing the fucking room like you’re getting ready for the damn fitness gram pacer test?” Ten drawled from the bed in their tiny shared apartment, one leg dangling off the edge. He gave Mark a pointed look, “If you’re this obsessed with her, maybe it’s time to dump your fake high school girlfriend, don’t you think?”

Mark kept pacing, barely registering Ten’s words. His mind was tangled up in thoughts of you, spinning faster with each step. “I’ve never been so sure about anything…” he mumbled, almost to himself.

Ten sighed, tilting his head back dramatically. “Yeah, then you should break up with your fake high school girlfriend,” he repeated, louder this time.

Mark only half-heard, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What was that?”

Throwing his hands up in surrender, Ten slouched back onto the bed. Clearly, Mark was in too deep to hear reason. Ten picked up his phone, his fingers tapping out a quick message to the one person who might snap his roommate out of whatever the hell this was.

Moments later, Mark’s phone buzzed with an incoming call. He barely had time to check the screen before his sister’s voice pierced the air.

“Are you seriously thinking about juggling two girls?” Chuu’s voice was a mix of disbelief and exasperation, loud enough to make Mark wince.

“Not even!” Mark groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s not like that!”

“Well, then you should break up with your fake high school girlfriend,” Chuu echoed Ten’s advice, hoping to hammer the point home.

Mark’s pacing faltered. “Wait—how did you even know about that?” 

“Ten told me, obviously,” she replied, as if the answer couldn’t be more obvious.

Mark turned to his roommate, sprawled out on the bed, already knocked out cold with his phone still clutched loosely in his hand. “He’s not even conscious!” he exclaimed, eyes widening in disbelief.

“Whatever,” Chuu said breezily. “Anyway, you of all people should know what it’s like to get cheated on.”

“Don’t remind me,” Mark muttered darkly, the memory making his jaw tighten. “And shouldn’t you be working right now?”

Chuu’s tone suddenly brightened, as if she’d just remembered something important. “Oh, shoot! You’re right. I’ll text you later. And Mark—try not to do anything dumb, okay?”

Before he could respond, the line went dead, leaving Mark standing there, phone in hand, and the weight of Chuu’s words lingering in the room.

Too bad Mark had a date in a few minutes, leaving him with little time to care about anything else. 

He glanced at his phone, hoping to see your name lighting up the screen. But instead, a message from an unknown number greeted him. Frowning, he opened it and began to read aloud, “Dear Mr. Lee, it has come to my attention that we will be fighting soon. My name is Park Jisung, and I’m ‘blah blah blah,’ fair warning, ‘blah blah blah,’ yada yada…” He trailed off, already bored, and rolled his eyes. “This is boring! Delete!”

With a dismissive tap, he hit "Delete." Mark had more pressing matters, like his date with you—the real priority for the evening.

Pocketing his phone, he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door, a grin spreading across his face. Tonight was going to be the best night of his life, and no random text was about to ruin it. 

—

Mark spotted you at the top of the stairs, your silhouette outlined against the fading twilight. “Why are you just standing there?” he called out, his breath puffing in the cold air.

You glanced back, “Dude, I’m totally waiting on you.” You checked the time pointedly. “Five minutes late.”

Mark winced, glancing at his own watch as if to confirm the accusation. “Sorry, I just figured you were too cool to be on time,” he said, his tone apologetic.

“Well. You assumed wrong.” There was a hint of amusement in your eyes, and your tone was almost mocking.

As you both began making your way down the winding park pathways, the crunch of snow beneath your boots filled the silence. The chill seemed to seep through your jackets, each gust of wind sending a shiver down your spines.

“So, how’d you end up in Toronto?” Mark asked, his voice casual but his curiosity hard to disguise.

You shrugged, exhaling a cloud of steam into the frigid air. “Just needed to escape, I guess.”

“Oh yeah?” Mark repeated, his interest piqued despite his efforts to sound nonchalant. 

You hesitated, then continued as though you hadn’t heard the question. “Chenle always said Toronto was one of the great cities, so…” Your words trailed off, as if there was more left unsaid.

Mark's brow furrowed as he stole a glance at you. The way you looked ahead, your eyes distant and thoughtful, made him wonder what exactly you were running from—or who. “Is Chenle… Is he your boyfriend?”

You turned your gaze into the distance, unsure of what to say, “He’s… a friend,” you said carefully.

Mark couldn't help but press further. “Was he your boyfriend?”

You stiffened slightly, your breath hanging in the air as you weighed your response. “Do you mind if we don’t get into that right now?”

Mark scoffed lightly, but the forced chuckle at the end was a bit too loud, a bit too strained. “Yeah, no, totally. I mean, it’s not like I’m dying to know or anything,” he said, trying to sound indifferent. “So not interesting to me.”

The two of you decide to sit on some swings. You kicked at the snow with your boots, and Mark glanced at you before the inevitable question came up. “So, what about you? What do you do?” you asked, genuine curiosity in your voice.

Mark winced internally. That was exactly the topic he’d hoped to avoid. “I’m… between jobs,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

You tilted your head, eyebrows raised. “Between what and what?”

He chuckled, a bit sheepishly. “My last job’s a long story... filled with a lot of sighs.”

You nodded, your gaze drifting upward towards the sky once again. “I know plenty of those,” you murmured, seemingly nostalgic.

“Is that why you left California?” Mark asked, his tone softening, as if careful not to push too hard.

“Pretty much,” you replied, shrugging. “It was time for a change, somewhere a little more… chilled.”

Mark laughed, gesturing to the snow swirling around them. “Well, it’s certainly chilled here.”

You smiled, a genuine one this time, and the look in your eyes seemed to soften a little. “Yeah, I guess so,” you said, and for a moment, the distance between you seemed to shrink.

Mark wasn’t sure what came over him, but before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “I’m totally obsessed with you.”

The words hung in the air, escaping his lips faster than he could reel them back in. His eyes widened, and he gripped the chains of the swing, unsure if he should backtrack or just jump into the snow and disappear. But you thankfully respond before he could backtrack, “I didn’t mean to get you obsessed.”

“Well, I just haven’t been obsessed with a girl for a long time. It’s... weird,” he admitted.

“That’s probably because you sleep with a guy.” 

Mark blinked. Wait… What?

You grinned, clearly enjoying his reaction. “I mean, I was guessing based on your apartment situation, but you totally do, don’t you?”

His hands flew up defensively, trying to defend himself from the homosexual allegations probably running through your head. “Whoa, no, it’s not like that! We’re just poor, okay? We can’t afford two beds! We’re not—well, actually, Ten is... he’s pretty gay.” The words tumbled out faster than he could organize them, his face reddening as he stumbled over his explanation.

You burst into genuine laughter, doubling over as the sound echoed in the crisp night air. “Relax, dude. I believe you. Trust me, you’re way too desperate to be gay.”

Mark ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “I feel so stupid right now.”

“Aw, don’t worry,” you teased, hopping off your swing and extending a hand toward him. “You’re probably not that stupid.”

Mark accepted your hand, letting you pull him to his feet as he tried to muster some dignity. “I’m mostly… stupid,” he confessed, his smile sheepish.

“Well, you’re definitely stupid if you want to go out with me,” you said, turning to continue down the path with a sly grin.

Mark nodded, falling into step beside you. “Exactly, yeah.”

The snowfall seemed to get heavier with each step, “This is ridiculous,” you muttered, brushing a layer of snow off your shoulders. “Isn’t it, like, April?”

Mark let out a weary sigh. “That’s Toronto for you. One minute, it’s spring, and the next, it’s a snowstorm. I can barely even see you anymore,” he added, squinting through the white haze. “This whole thing is turning into a disaster.”

You shrugged, glancing over your shoulder at him. “I’d say ‘act of God’ is a pretty solid excuse for a lousy date.”

Mark’s ears perked up at that, a grin tugging at his lips. “So, this is a ‘date,’ huh?” 

You spun around to face him, your expression playful. “Did I say ‘date’? Must’ve been a slip of the tongue.”

“Tongue…” Mark echoed absentmindedly, his brain short-circuiting on that word for a beat too long.

You raised an eyebrow at him, amused. “Anyway,” you continued, letting him off the hook, “the night’s not over yet. Wanna come over for some tea? I promise it’s warmer than standing out here.”

Mark’s breath hitched slightly, a mix of surprise and anticipation. “Sure?” he replied, trying to sound casual.

—

“What kind of tea do you want?” 

Mark looked at you as you began slipping out of your coat and draping it over the back of a chair. The warmth of the apartment was a stark contrast to the biting cold outside, but Mark was still shivering slightly as he sat at the dining table, rubbing his hands together for warmth. “There’s more than one kind?” 

You walked over to the pantry and began scanning the rows of tea, listing them off with an exaggerated singsong voice. “Let’s see… we have blueberry, raspberry, ginseng, sleepytime, green tea, green tea with lemon, green tea with lemon and honey, liver disaster—”

“Liver disaster?” Mark interrupted, a skeptical look forming on his face.

You continued ignoring his question, “Ginger with honey, ginger without honey, vanilla almond, white truffle, blueberry chamomile, vanilla walnut, constant comment, and Earl Grey,”. You reached for a blueish-gray tin. “I’m going with sleepytime.”

Mark chuckled, “Did you make some of those up? ‘Liver disaster’ doesn’t exactly sound like a best-seller.”

You shot him a playful look over your shoulder. “You’d be surprised. Some people really need it.”

“I’ll have sleepytime, too,” As you measured out the tea leaves, the soothing aroma began to fill the room, but Mark still felt chilly.

“Let me get you a blanket.” You say after placing down two mugs of warm tea down on the table. 

“That would be actually… really awesome.”

Author’s Note: author went insane writing this next bit so don’t take it seriously but also take it seriously at the same time because it’s the plot I was just in a goofy mood while writing.

You’d only been out of the room for a few minutes when Mark’s curiosity—or impatience—got the better of him. Everyone say it with me now: What the fuck, Mark. But hey, Mark did it anyway. He wandered upstairs, hands shoved in his pockets.

As he reached the landing, he noticed a half-open door and peeked in. And, wow, shocker—guess what he saw? There you were, standing in front of your closet, wearing just a bra and a skirt.

“Uh, dude, I’m changing?” You turned to look at him, not embarrassed or flustered, just visibly annoyed by the intrusion.

Mark's brain short-circuited for a second before he slapped a hand over his eyes. “Sorry, I’m just… cold!” he blurted out, as if that somehow justified his sudden appearance upstairs.

Let’s be real here: What did he expect? Really not entirely sure guys, I’m just the narrator here. But don’t worry, folks, Mark’s got morals. He kept his hand firmly over his eyes, not daring to peek. 

“Here, does this help?” Your voice was suddenly much closer than before, soft and warm in the dimly lit room.

Mark’s eyes fluttered open to find you wrapping your arms around him, pulling him into a hug. “That’s… very warm,” he mumbled, his breath hitching at the unexpected closeness. “What is that?”

“It’s me, obviously,” you teased, but your tone was gentler than before. 

“Ohhh…kaaayyy” The two of you stood there, inches apart, and something shifted in the air between you. The moment stretched, and then, without overthinking it, Mark leaned in, closing the distance in one swift motion as your lips met in a slow, heated kiss.

For a few seconds, the rest of the world disappeared, replaced only by the warmth and the taste of each other. When you finally broke apart, Mark felt like he was in heaven.

“Were you… just planning to bring a blanket from your bed?” He asked, glancing at the blanket thrown across your bed. 

“I guess…” You replied, extremely casually.

“Maybe… maybe we should both get under it,” He suggested, his eyes searching yours. “Since, you know, we’re still so cold.”

You swallowed hard, feeling a mixture of anticipation and disbelief. “Well… what about our tea?”

“I can… skip the tea,” he whispered, his eyes still captivating your own.

And just like that, the room seemed even warmer than before.

Even though the atmosphere was perfect and the two of you were tangled up on the bed in what Mark could only describe as the most amazing makeout session of his life, everything came to a sudden halt when you pulled away, sitting up, breaking the flow.

“I changed my mind,” you said, your tone calm but firm.

Mark blinked, his breath still a little uneven. “Changed it to what? From what?”

You lay back on the bed, turning onto your side and gazing up at the ceiling. “I don’t want to have sex with you, Lee. Not right now.”

“Oh… okay,” Mark replied, his mind racing to catch up with the sudden shift.

“It’s not like I’m gonna send you home in a snowstorm,” you added, curling up closer to him. “You can stay. Sleep in my bed, even. And just so you know, I reserve the right to change my mind about the sex later.”

He took a moment to process the situation, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. It wasn’t what he expected, but as he glanced over at you, a wave of relief and contentment washed over him. After all, here he was, lying in bed with someone who an hour ago seemed completely out of reach.

“This is cool,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips. “Just this. It’s been a really long time since… well, since anything like this. I think I needed it. Whatever ‘this’ is. So, thanks.”

You turned your head toward him, a soft smile lighting up your face. “You’re welcome.”

—

“I have to work.”

Mark was jolted awake, blinking against the morning light as he saw you standing by the bathroom door, wrapped in a towel. His heart skipped a beat in relief—you were still here. “Work?” he echoed, his voice groggy.

“You have to leave,” you repeated, already moving across the room to gather your things.

Moments later, the two of you were dressed and out the door. You tossed on a pair of roller skates, gliding effortlessly toward the front gate with Mark walking alongside you. The sight was almost surreal—here you were, rolling away, while he stumbled through the fog of his half-awake thoughts.

“Hey,” he called out, jogging a few steps to catch up. “Can this not be a one-night stand? For one thing, I didn’t even get any—” He stopped himself when he noticed the look you shot him. “Kidding! That was a joke. Totally a joke.”

You raised an eyebrow, the faintest hint of a smirk on your lips. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

“Uh…” Mark hesitated, trying to come up with something. Then it hit him. “Come to the first round of this battle of the bands thing,” he said, sounding more confident than he felt.

You looked at him, unimpressed. “You have a band?”

“Yeah, we’re… terrible. Please come.”

You lingered at the gate for a moment, considering it. Then you gave a small nod. “We’ll see,” you replied, skating off down the sidewalk with a casual wave over your shoulder.

Mark watched you glide away, a goofy grin spreading across his face despite the early morning chill. It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no, either—and that was more than enough for him.

prev ↤ masterlist ↦ next

SUMMARY ↬ mark has never wanted anything in his life. the lead bassist for 'dream on', unemployed, and quite literally a loser, mark expects he's hit rock bottom from here. that is until you, the girl of his dreams quite literally skates out of his dreams and into his life. mark has never wanted anything more. but is love really worth the emotional baggage when you have seven evil exes, who each possess superpowers and are intent on defeating him?

GENRES ↬ social media au (smau), fluff, angst, drama, fantasy au, band au, scott pilgrim au, explicit(?), gay people (ten) help mark find true love

AUTHOR'S NOTE ↬ god mark lee. writing this version of him makes me wanna kms. HE IS SUCH AN ASSHOLE BUT ALSO... loser mark... he really has my heart too. poor haneul though. dw guys y/n is also a red flag that's why they're perfect for each other. was also gonna add music for this chapter, i'll add it later i was too lazy.

TAG LIST (open!) ↬ @lyvhie @ldh0000 @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @spiderm444rk @nerdsungie @nanaxwi @lotties-readings @nessaassen02 @alethea-moon @222brainrot @kittydollzz @n0hyuck @dudekiss3r @wony1e @whr4nakin @chenlesfavorite @onlyhyunjin @peterm4rker @anglswon @itsashley127 @morkiee @lotties-readings @syatchy @starfilledgaze @bee-the-loser @p-d1ddy @polarisjisung @nctrawberries @luluvhs @zuzu-the-simp @mystverse (if your username isn’t in blue/grey, please check your visibility settings so i can properly tag you <33)

[puhpandas]

thinking about flashlight duo... I've had this little currently hypothetical storyline in my head taking place in my modern au where when Evan's a teen around 15/16) he gets sent to an all summer summer camp with no wifi by his father and is separated from Gregory very suddenly and has to handle himself for 3 months with nobody by his side

he would meet cassidy during this time and she would be very emotional in an anger issues kind of way and unstable in that aspect as in she wouldnt know how to calm herself down and wouldnt want to be healthy and just doesnt have any desire to be. this would be where Evan comes in and accidentally teaches her the power of friendship and how to improve your mental health and that you should want to help yourself even if you dont think you should

and she would actually learn lessons from him and itd be a scenario where evan isnt as weird and helpless as he thinks he is when it comes to going through life interacting with people having to do things and that he actually affected someone positively. Cassidy would be much more willing to take a step back and get help involving her anger issues not because it bothers other people but because Evan made her want to do it for herself

and it would be Evan and cassidy friendship but also it would more be showcasing how Evan's changed after meeting Gregory and giving him a chance to shine. it would be a scenario where hes thrown into the middle of a lake not knowing how to swim very well but managing himself back to shore. and also showing him as a teen which I havent written about yet

and of course Evan and cassidy keep in touch after camp is over but I feel like Cassidy would be strange enough to resort to some kind of difficult to contact situation where they only communicate through letters or something. I feel like she would do that (and Evan would have to give cassidy Gregory's address because god knows if his father or Michael got wind that he was getting handwritten letters from a girl they wouldnt leave him alone about finally growing up and getting a girlfriend and becoming a man(his ass is gay))

but also just imagining the flashlight duo reunion afterwards like. yeah any progress Evan had made ignoring his very strong feelings about being away from Gregory is gone hes in hysterics on the floor when he gets to go back home and see him

[sunni-stuff]

You who's studying abroad in the UK where you have a one night stand with Ghost at a bar; it's a special night for the soldiers and he gets lucky after making you laugh by telling a shitty joke thanks to the liquid confidence in you. You ask his name, and he tells you there's no need — that you'd forget by the end of the night.

Taking you back home, there was no time wasted. The man practically has you seeing stars. He pumps you full of cum, whispers absolute filth in your ears and leaves bruises on your thighs by the time it's all over. He at least cleans you up, gives you proper aftercare before disappearing while your still fucked out of your mind.

Anyways, a great night. perfect 10/10, you have a story to tell your girls. So, your life continues on track as normal, right?

Wrong!

You dream of him. You have countless dreams of him. They were graphic reenactments of that night. His stubble rubbing against your cheek, his lust-filled eyes burning into yours even in the darkness. And oh, his voice - deep and confident - the very reason why you were drawn to him in the first place.

He creeps into your dreams every single night without fail, so much so that it frustrates you. surely not because you were soaking wet afterwards, no, no, it was only because he was so annoying! Surely it wasn't because you’d end up pumping your fingers in and out your soaked cunt for hours in hopes of recreating that mindblowing orgasm he'd given you only to fail each time.

After your 10th failed attempt to cum, you crack asking the friend who took you out to the bar in the first place if she knew who the soldier was and she claims her boyfriend does. You've met Kyle before, he's a handsome man with dreamy eyes and a gentleman's demeanor.

Kyle tells you he'd pass the word back to his lieutenant, but he's a busy man who doesn't stay in one place. There's no guarantee he'd even respond.

Lucky you, screwing a lieutenant who probably doesn't remember who you are or won't have the time to find out.

The waiting game painfully starts all while the dreams continue. Each torturous night leaves you more and more agitated than before. By the 4th night, you already embraced the restlessness sure to come when the vibration of your phone changes everything.

Directly on the home screen was a text from an unknown number. There was no name, but you had a feeling who it was based on the message.

“Keep the front door unlocked for me.”

A/N I wrote this during hurricane francine when my power went out, I think she gave me superpowers. Idk I'll start flying tmr!!

P2 here

[blueboyluca]

Among the tens of thousands of people who risked their lives to stay home, fear of abandoning their animals was a primary reason for that decision. But even after the levees broke and thousands of men, women, and children were stranded on their rooftops, sometimes for days, rescuers did not allow the displaced to bring their pets into emergency facilities. Some residents had to be forced at gunpoint to leave their companions behind.

...

"There is a class issue involved here," Karen Dawn, an animal advocate, wrote in The Washington Post. "While Marriott hotels welcomed the pets of Katrina evacuees as ‘part of the family,’ people who had to rely on the Red Cross for shelter were forced to abandon that part of the family or attempt to ride out the storm. It cannot be denied that many poor people are dead as a result of 'no pets' policies."

...

"There’s no question that the pit bulls were separated out and treated differently [during the rescue effort]," a woman named Molly Gibb, who traveled to the Gulf to help lost pets after the hurricane, told me. "The media has done a very good job of 'de-dogging' the pit bull." Gibb would later foster a shy red-and-white pit bull that had been found tied to her dead owner, who had drowned. When the dog was picked up, she was wearing a fancy leather dress collar with metal studs on it, something Gibb recognized must have cost a good amount of money. "That man gave his life to save his dog," Gibb said, her voice trembling, "and other rescuers were complaining about what kind of collar she had on." (Later, the dog would be adopted by a pastor who took her to church with him on Sundays. He named her Faith.)

— Bronwen Dickey, Pit Bull (2016)

[wilwheaton]

What we’re witnessing online during and in the aftermath of these hurricanes is a group of people desperate to protect the dark, fictitious world they’ve built. Rather than deal with the realities of a warming planet hurling once-in-a-generation storms at them every few weeks, they’d rather malign and threaten meteorologists, who, in their minds, are “nothing but a trained subversive liar programmed to spew stupid shit to support the global warming bullshit,” as one X user put it. It is a strategy designed to silence voices of reason, because those voices threaten to expose the cracks in their current worldview. But their efforts are doomed, futile. As one dispirited meteorologist wrote on X this week, “Murdering meteorologists won’t stop hurricanes.” She followed with: “I can’t believe I just had to type that.” What is clear is that a new framework is needed to describe this fracturing. Misinformation is too technical, too freighted, and, after almost a decade of Trump, too political. Nor does it explain what is really happening, which is nothing less than a cultural assault on any person or institution that operates in reality. If you are a weatherperson, you’re a target. The same goes for journalists, election workers, scientists, doctors, and first responders. These jobs are different, but the thing they share is that they all must attend to and describe the world as it is. This makes them dangerous to people who cannot abide by the agonizing constraints of reality, as well as those who have financial and political interests in keeping up the charade.

I’m Running Out of Ways to Explain How Bad This Is - The Atlantic

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Some Literary Terms & Devices

Literary devices and terms - are the techniques and elements that writers use to create narrative literature, poetry, speeches, or any other form of writing.

Anadiplosis - a figure of speech in which a word or group of words located at the end of one clause or sentence is repeated at or near the beginning of the following clause or sentence. This line from the novelist Henry James is an example of anadiplosis: "Our doubt is our passion, and our passion is our task."

Bildungsroman - a genre of novel that shows a young protagonist's journey from childhood to adulthood (or immaturity to maturity), with a focus on the trials and misfortunes that affect the character's growth.

Chiasmus - a figure of speech in which the grammar of one phrase is inverted in the following phrase, such that two key concepts from the original phrase reappear in the second phrase in inverted order. The sentence "She has all my love; my heart belongs to her," is an example of chiasmus.

Diacope - a figure of speech in which a word or phrase is repeated with a small number of intervening words. The first line of Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy, "Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way," is an example of diacope.

Epizeuxis - a figure of speech in which a word or phrase is repeated in immediate succession, with no intervening words. In the play Hamlet, when Hamlet responds to a question about what he's reading by saying "Words, words, words," that's an example of epizeuxis.

Foreshadowing - a literary device in which authors hint at plot developments that don't actually occur until later in the story. Foreshadowing can be achieved directly or indirectly, by making explicit statements or leaving subtle clues about what will happen later in the text. The Russian author Anton Chekhov summarized foreshadowing when he wrote, "If you say in the first chapter that there is a rifle hanging on the wall, in the second or third chapter it absolutely must go off." The description of the gun on the wall, in other words, should foreshadow its later use.

Hubris - excessive pride or overconfidence, which drives a person to overstep limits in a way that leads to their downfall. In Greek mythology, the legend of Icarus involves an iconic case of hubris: Icarus is given artificial wings made of wax and feathers so that he can fly (a superhuman feat), but he ignores his father's warnings and flies too close to the sun, melting his wings and drowning in the ocean.

Irony - a literary device or event in which how things seem to be is in fact very different from how they actually are. If this seems like a loose definition, don't worry—it is. Irony is a broad term that encompasses three different types of irony, each with their own specific definition: verbal irony, dramatic irony, and situational irony. Most of the time when people use the word irony, they're actually referring to one of these specific types of irony.

Juxtaposition - occurs when an author places two things side by side as a way of highlighting their differences. Ideas, images, characters, and actions are all things that can be juxtaposed with one another. For example, it's a common plot device in fairy tales such as Cinderella to juxtapose the good-natured main character with a cruel step-sibling. The differences between the characters, as well as their close relation to one another, serve to highlight the main character's good qualities.

Kenning - a figure of speech in which two words are combined in order to form a poetic expression that refers to a person or a thing. For example, "whale-road" is a kenning for the sea. Kennings are most commonly found in Old Norse and Old English poetry.

Litotes - a figure of speech and a form of understatement in which a sentiment is expressed ironically by negating its contrary. For example, saying "It's not the best weather today" during a hurricane would be an example of litotes, implying through ironic understatement that the weather is, in fact, horrible.

Metonymy - a type of figurative language in which an object or concept is referred to not by its own name, but instead by the name of something closely associated with it. For example, in "Wall Street prefers lower taxes," the New York City street that was the original home of the New York Stock Exchange stands in for (or is a "metonym" for) the entire American financial industry.

Narrative - an account of connected events. Two writers describing the same set of events might craft very different narratives, depending on how they use different narrative elements, such as tone or point of view. For example, an account of the American Civil War written from the perspective of a white slaveowner would make for a very different narrative than if it were written from the perspective of a historian, or a former slave.

Onomatopoeia - a figure of speech in which words evoke the actual sound of the thing they refer to or describe. The “boom” of a firework exploding, the “tick tock” of a clock, and the “ding dong” of a doorbell are all examples of onomatopoeia.

Polyptoton - a figure of speech that involves the repetition of words derived from the same root (such as "blood" and "bleed"). For instance, the question, "Who shall watch the watchmen?" is an example of polyptoton because it includes both "watch" and "watchmen."

Quatrain - a four-line stanza of poetry. It can be a single four-line stanza, meaning that it is a stand-alone poem of four lines, or it can be a four-line stanza that makes up part of a longer poem.

Red herring - a piece of information in a story that distracts readers from an important truth, or leads them to mistakenly expect a particular outcome. Most often, the term red herring is used to refer to a "false clue"—a piece of evidence that misleads readers to believe that a crime (or other action) was committed by someone other than the actual culprit.

Sibilance - a figure of speech in which a hissing sound is created within a group of words through the repetition of "s" sounds. An example of sibilance is: "Sadly, Sam sold seven venomous serpents to Sally and Cyrus in San Francisco."

Theme - a universal idea, lesson, or message explored throughout a work of literature. One key characteristic of literary themes is their universality, which is to say that themes are ideas that not only apply to the specific characters and events of a book or play, but also express broader truths about human experience that readers can apply to their own lives. For instance, John Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath (about a family of tenant farmers who are displaced from their land in Oklahoma) is a book whose themes might be said to include the inhumanity of capitalism, as well as the vitality and necessity of family and friendship.

Understatement - a figure of speech in which something is expressed less strongly than would be expected, or in which something is presented as being smaller, worse, or lesser than it really is. Typically, understatement is used to call attention to the very quality it pretends to downplay. For instance, if you had just eaten the most delicious meal of your life and licked the plate clean, you might jokingly tell the chef that "It was edible," making use of understatement to humorously express how much you appreciated the meal.

Verbal irony - occurs when the literal meaning of what someone says is different from—and often opposite to—what they actually mean. When there's a hurricane raging outside and someone remarks "what lovely weather we're having," this is an example of verbal irony.

Zeugma - a figure of speech in which one "governing" word or phrase modifies two distinct parts of a sentence. Often, the governing word will mean something different when applied to each part, as in the sentence, "He took his coat and his vacation." The verb "to take" makes sense with and governs both "coat" and "vacation," but is appropriate to each in a different way.

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References

[cute-sucker]

irregular heartbeat

[31.3.2024]

note: erm, so i wrote this. idk how i feel about it...(if u find the taylor swift reference u will forever have my love) words: 1.8k warnings: drinking, swearing, heavy angst, slightly dark!rafe, toxic relationship

dating rafe cameron in secret was supposed to be fine.

it was supposed to be easy. you never passed his way on the island, and when you did he was his gang.

the kooks.

each one had a rich family and shit ton of daddy issues. kelce, a cold fish, topper, the charming one and rafe…the deadly one. the one that you were supposed to stay away from.

you were independent even out of school. your parents had needed help with two younger siblings. you went you fended for yourself, taking your sister to soccer practice and coming to your brother's plays. you had a one-track mindset. that was staying clear of trouble.

oh boy, but when rafe came in. a smirk on his face, sunglasses glinting in the sun, and a groggy voice that made you want to rethink all of your decisions.

some said trouble followed him, while others disagreed calling him the root of all the problems.

you never expected to fall into his clutches. your family had been dirt poor and you were on a scholarship to kook academy, passing with flying colors. you were ready now to graduate with your hands closing on the degree, and finally run away from figure eight forever.

yet it wasn't school where you met him.

it was when you had been dropping off your sister when he set his eyes on you. you were supposed to start a new life, but somehow you liked the way he offered you a new breath of air.

you liked the danger, and the intrigue surrounding him, and you liked doing something dangerous. you had always been reliable, you had always been the one to hang around your friends telling them it was time for you to go home.

you'd always been the straight a' student, good girl, and now you smiled back at him and that smirk spread on his face you left excited.

it was almost as if he understood you. it was the way he liked your sweet smile, always giving you time. he understood your hardships and shared some of his own - telling you about his difficult relationship with his father, running to get your coffee, and at one point holding you so tightly during the times you were like you were going to fall apart.

then he had asked you out. you felt like you were living the dream, retracing his freckles at night, and feeling the way he smiled at you. he was everything at you. you would never admit it, but even your sister had caught on.

her 10-year-old mind saw you lingering on rafe cameron, and she gave you a sly smile, telling you that you deserved it.

you liked that.

you liked the sweetness and the venerability that he brought out in you. you liked the way his arms could fold you, and the way you felt so safe. you liked the way he smiled at you in the morning after you stayed. this sweetness in the venerable laziness with his arms spread out and you could feel the steady beat of his heart.

dependable.

trustworthy.

lovable.

he was like a nightmare dressed like a daydream.

rafe cameron was a whirl of emotions. an unpredictable hurricane that came quietly and viciously. you hated the clear lies you heard in his voice and the way he drank to death. the bottle was attached to him, and his eyes were harsh, with his words even harsher.

no longer could you see the race that you loved.

you felt abandoned. all of sudden, it felt like everything was falling apart, as you tried to take care of everyone forgetting about yourself.

you'd cry and cry like you had never had before. your knees held up to your chest, and this fear, this constant fear followed you everywhere because you loved him. god, you loved him, desperately to the point of damming everything you had.

and you swore you had lost everything until he'd let you curl into your lap and he'd whisper sweet nothings in your ear. then you'd believe everything was going to be okay.

but here you were again, beer bottle tilted drinking every drop, while you aimlessly swayed to the beat as the party music blared. you felt weightless, died yet so alive at the same time. you were supposed to be placed.

yet you were dwindling to nothing because of rafe cameron.

he had told you were his love, his one and only, and yet he had just ignored you, pretending not to know you.

you wanted to scream.

in all honestly you always felt like crying, and then telling his friends what was going on. you were fucking 17 years old, and you were supposed to be out of this phase. out of this phase where you craved being a teenage dirtbag.

no, now you felt like a dirty secret as if he didn't want people to know that he was dating a filthy pogue on the other side of the island. he was ashamed of you.

these thoughts swirled in your head with no stop, and you felt more your hands shake and eyes blur with tears, as you tipped a bottle to your mouth. the more you thought about the situation, the more beer you drowned.

and all of a sudden you danced, your body in sync with the music, and you were next to the bonfire, too close, so warm. maybe you should take something off, it was way too warm, as you stumbled to get your top off.

suddenly you felt someone helping you.

topper.

"hey, are you okay?" he asked, drawing you away from the fire. you squirmed away from him, as your cup fell to the ground.

"'m fine, why?" you gulped down your drink with enthusiasm, "you know you should tell your friend to fuck off. he's an asshole." you sputtered out, trying to sit down only to lose your footing completely.

topper caught you in time.

"maybe you should stop-" he muttered, gently guiding your cup away from you. you felt like you shouldn't let him take your cup yet your hands wandered aimlessly in his direction.

"i'm a complete loser," you hiccouped, as you sat on the ground. "i'm in love with him. i'm in love with rafe fucking cameron."

topper raised an eyebrow, nodding silently as if he had heard this before.

then you found yourself sniffing sadly, and felt more confused. "why are you even listening to me babble? you don't even know me."

your tight minidress was slipping up your thighs, and you saw him glance before catching himself.

he laughed at your comment, almost as if he was surprised himself. "i don't know. all i know is that you seem familiar," he confessed, cracking a confused smile. you couldn't help but laugh just a little.

he was nice.

"seriously top, seducing a pogue? couldn't find other good fucks?" a dark voice drawled.

you turned to face the half-obscured face in the darkness. it was rafe, hat turned backwards, anger flickering in his eyes, an eerie expression on his face.

"shut up rafe," topper shot back, rolling his eyes. he looked amused almost as if he was enjoying this exchange of words.

you glared at rafe, placing your hands on your thighs. "maybe i should go fuck someone. i feel like it, y'know?"

rafe snapped to look at you.

you got up, sudden bravado in your heart. "you know what? i'd rather fuck anyone here then-"

his eyes.

that was what stopped you in your tracks. it was the fact that there was something so murderous, and you could tell that he was warning. yet you didn't want to stop. you wished he could drown in the ocean, or just leave you.

he let out a mirthless laugh, and then stepped closer to you, "let's talk.''

it wasn't a request, but you stepped closer to him, watching the way his breath hitched, and the way his hand itched to pull down the short dress you had on.

you stepped so close, it looked as if you were going to kiss him. you found yourself feeling cruel.

"stay away from me, rafe.," you whispered, and then walked away from him. but you knew that he wouldn't let you go without a fight, as he relentlessly followed you across the bonfire.

"talk to me," and then before you knew it topper was gone, and the two of you were shoved into a dark corner. you saw other couples making out, but none of them could care less about your presence.

his eyes searched for something in yours. he was so close, his heat rubbed off you and you waited for him to say anything.

"what the fuck is wrong with you?" he hissed, "what happened right there," he whispered, and he looked so concerned you wanted to break right there in front of him.

"you. you're what happened. you're breaking me." you breathed out, hot tears streaming down your face, and his grip on your arm got even tighter.

you gasped at the pain, and he quickly let go of your hand. he had hurt you, and he was-

"i-" he murmured, and then tried to draw you closer to his chest, "i love you. you know i would never hurt you."

you shook your head, as you sobbed. yet when he opened his arms you flew into them. he stroked your hair and buried his head in his chest.

"somethings wrong," you mumbled and he gently tilted your head to get a good look at you. you could barely understand the look on his face. he was so unpredictable.

"you've had too much to drink, darling."

then he kissed your forehead so gently, that a tear escaped your face. he was kissing all of your bruises and you would let him do anything to you.

"i missed you, you're gone all the time," you told him, latching onto his arm.

"i'm right here," he assured you, and you shook your head.

"no, no."

he wouldn't get it.

you closed your eyes, his ache in his heart growing. you could hear his heartbeat, and no longer did he sound steady. instead, it was irregular. you wanted to believe he was the same rafe cameron you fell in love with, but sometimes. . .

sometimes you couldn't even recognise him.

[cirtusmistress]

Hurricane

Authors Note: I wrote this about two years ago and posted it to AO3, and never cross-posted it to Tumblr. But given I want to get back into writing, I may as well start by posting what I got! So enjoy my first fic, two years late.

Ship ~ Brahms Heelshire x GN Reader

Tags ~ Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Reader is Competent, Storm prep, Brahms is Scared of Storms, Touch-Starved Brahms Heelshire, Reader Replaces Greta Evans, Minor Injuries, Doll Brahms Heelshire, One Shot, Gender-Neutral Pronouns

AO3 Crosspost

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“A storm? Like, a thunderstorm? Or is it worse?” You asked. You’d been working for the Heelshire’s for around two months now. And though they’d left you with very detailed instructions on how to care for their beloved son, they had never brought up things such as house care. Honestly, you hadn’t planned on staying this long. Not into Autumn.

“A full on hurricane.” Malcolm answered, setting the last of the grocery bags down. He continued, “The worst one we’ve had in years apparently. They’re predicting outages and downed trees. I can help you secure the windows and doors if you’d like?” He offered. A sweet gesture. An olive branch of friendship. But you knew better than to take it.

During your short time at the Heelshire estate, and caring for Brahms, you’d learned a great many things. The most crucial being that whenever someone stayed around too long and stole your attention away from the doll you cared for, there was hell to pay. In one instance you found the dining room in complete disarray after simply inviting Malcolm in for tea, during a rare social moment for you. The worst case was when a friend of yours stopped by. They were a globetrotter, and seeing as you already had residence found it simpler to just stay with you. A mistake. One night was enough to send Brahms into the worst tantrum you’d ever seen. Multiple rooms destroyed, a window had been broken, and he had stolen your friend's passport. Your friendship didn’t last long after that. After all, who was to believe that a doll could cause so much harm?

“Thank you, Malcolm, but I’ll be fine. I’ve dealt with a few storms in my life, I’ll manage.” You replied. Malcolm studied you for a moment. Likely trying to read you, sniff out any signs of dishonesty. But, there were none. Just that warm smile that could melt anyone's heart. He gave a sigh of defeat and nodded.

“If you say so. Just give me a call if you need anything. I’ll come check on you when the hurricane passes.” With that he gave you a wave and headed back to his truck. You muttered a soft thanks, finally returning to your chores.

Brahms sat in the kitchen where he’d been waiting. Like he was listening to your conversation. You’d grown used to this odd job of yours. Caring for a doll as if it were human. Though you’d always figured there was more to this situation then most believed. You’d heard of people using dolls to cope with loss, the concept wasn’t lost on you. But for a couple well into their later years? And there were just.. Too many small things. Even in the rules. Playing music loud, reading in a loud clear voice, leaving food in the freezer. Food which you knew was going missing.

But the biggest tell was an accident. It had been about a month into the job. You’d actually begun to believe Brahms was a child's spirit trapped in the doll. What with him moving around on his own, and leaving you little offerings, and once saying your goddamn name when he was upset. But then, just by accident as you were putting Brahms to bed, you hit your foot against the wall. It had hurt so badly you thought you’d broken a toe. But what stood out in your mind even now was the sound the wall made. It didn’t make the thud you knew from stubbing your toe time and time again in youth. The wall sounded hollow. There had been an echo. Now you knew some older houses had hollow walls. Normally the cavities between the two layers were used for insulation. But that echo.. That wasn’t a normal hollow wall.

After that you’d started paying closer attention to the house and Brahms as you went about your day. Watching and listening. Countless nights where you’d lay in bed and just listen. You’d hear shuffling, the rare footstep like someone had stumbled. Once you swore you heard breathing. You noticed how many rooms had large paintings or cabinets, your size or larger. For a while you thought you were going mad. There was no way in hell that an elderly couple had been keeping their son in the walls for twenty years. But then you learned of the Heelshire’s deaths. Suicides. So many things pointing to something you didn’t quite know how to feel about. On one hand, you were now basically the sole guardian of a doll who was actually a stand-in for the hypothetical twenty-eight year old man in the walls. On the other, Brahms was now completely alone after twenty years of isolation. Alone, save for you. Sweet, kind, loving you who treated a porcelain doll like a real boy. Who read to him every night and tucked him in with a kiss. You couldn’t just leave him. No matter what Brahms was.

“We’re in for a storm, Brahms. I guess that means we’re having a slumber party downstairs tonight.” You cortled, putting the last of the groceries away. You took note of how little perishables Malcolm had dropped off. Thinking ahead. You wouldn’t be able to cook for however long the power was gone, if it did go that was.

You turned back to the doll, scooping him up and taking him with you. You figured the downstairs office would be the safest place. The windows were relatively small and were less likely to break. It would do for your purposes. You sat Brahms in the corner and got to work moving the desk out of the way. You’d have to lay down blankets and things to sleep on. You doubted the old fashioned Heelshire’s were going to have something like an air mattress.

You spent a good hour doing basic storm prep. Dragging some old blankets and comforters out of wardrobes and laying them down on the floor. Filling up buckets and the tubs with water. Getting crossword puzzles and cards. By the time that was all done, it had begun to rain outside. The calm before the storm you supposed. The last thing on your storm checklist was lanterns. This was an old house, you were certain that the Heelshire’s would have oil lamps somewhere. Naturally the first place you wanted to check was the attic.. But you knew better. After all, if your theory was right you didn’t want to scare the poor man by invading his space. So you settled on checking the cellar first.

Only issue was, you really couldn’t bring Brahms. You knew he was never meant to be alone but taking a fragile doll into a dark cellar was too risky. He’d have to stay upstairs. You were hoping he wouldn’t be too upset.

“Brahms, I’m headed to the cellar. I’ll be quick, I promise.” You hummed. With that, you headed down alone. You had been right, it was dark and musty and damp. You started to wonder if there was mold down here. You flicked on the old dingy light which surprisingly still worked. You began digging through the clutter. Old things like furniture, clothes never worn since the sixties, even some art pieces. It was like a time capsule. You didn’t have time to walk through history though, you needed to find anything that could give light without the use of electricity. Lower and lower you went through the piles, until finally you found something. A pair of old oil lamps and a small can of oil to go with it. You muttered a soft thanks, pulling them out from beneath wicker chairs. But what was behind them gave you pause.

The bricks were singed. Dark burn marks that showed age. Your eyes followed the marks. The furniture in here had covered them, but now they were exposed after your rummaging. They flowed over the bricks going upwards. They almost looked beautiful. But that beauty hid a tragedy that plagued this home. You knew why they’d been hidden with so much clutter.

Your thoughts were interrupted when something crashed behind you, making you scream and jump. When you turned you saw one of the mirrored vanities stored away had been smashed. The mirror shards now littered the floor. And on the steps sat the Brahms doll, staring you down. It took you a moment to catch your breath, realizing your error. Brahms didn’t want you uncovering his painful memories. And he’d made sure you knew that. Gathering yourself, you pushed the lamps aside and began to put all that you’d moved back into its place. Covering those painful memories back up, letting them remain hidden and forgotten. Once finished you picked the lamps and the can up and approached Brahms. Kneeling to his height you gave an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry Brahms,” you spoke with such a genuine tone of sincerity, “I shouldn’t have snooped around. But look! I found the lamps we’ll need!” You held up the lamps, jostling them a little so they clinked together. Of course the doll remained frozen. But just faintly, almost missable under the sound of rain pouring down, you heard panting. Like someone coming down from a rage.

“I’ll clean up the shards, then we’ll head back upstairs, okay?” You’d started speaking to Brahms out loud more after you’d learned about the walls. Feeding your own delusions some would say. You held your word, starting to pick up the larger shards and resting them on top of the vanity. The smaller ones you just brushed away with some loose fabric you found. You didn’t really plan on coming back down here anyways, not after that outburst.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You always found time moves slower when there was a storm. The day seemed to drag on as the storm became worse and worse. The wind had picked up and those raindrops just kept getting larger. It was loud, even on the bottom floor. You had settled on just simple sandwiches for dinner, making sure to put a ‘spare’ in the freezer. And after that you’d just settled in to do a crossword. It was.. Probably the first time in weeks where you felt safe. There was something about the dim lighting and blankets that just felt right. Secure. Warm. Brahms sat under the covers and you’d even given him a crossword book of his own. Slightly cruel, knowing he couldn’t move with you there with him. But at least you’d been talking to him. Funny, you always struggled talking with real people. But this doll turned you into a chatterbox. Maybe it was the simple fact no one was attempting to speak over you. Like someone was actually listening.

Your tranquility was disrupted by a large gust of wind, followed by a crash that made the manor shake. And what sounded like a scream. It had come from upstairs. Something inside you just knew. That crash was in the attic. You were running upstairs before you even had time to think. Up the stairs, and finding the attic ladder down. You were unsure if it had come undone itself or if someone had moved it. That didn’t matter as you climbed up. It was your first time in the attic but you didn’t get a chance to explore. A branch had flown off a tree and crashed through the wall, opening it up to the elements. You could only act, no time for clear thoughts. You grabbed a nearby blanket and started to desperately try to cover the hole, but another gale blew you back. There was nothing you could do to patch it right now, not unless you wanted to risk injury or worse, death.

Your rattled mind returned to the scream you had heard. Or at least you thought you had heard. Looking around you didn’t see a body but there was a bed up here. A tv, a sink.. Someone was living here. You didn’t have time to celebrate your theory being proven. Where was Brahms? Your eyes flitted around, finally landing back on the ladder. Somehow you had missed the very clear bloody handprint on it during your panic. But if Brahms was bleeding.. Oh God, how badly was he injured? Quickly you descended the steps, trying to find any sign of him. You were too panicked to even fear this man who was hiding from you for so long. All you knew somewhere in this house he was hurt and bleeding.

“Brahms?” You called, starting to check every room. Could he have climbed back into the walls? Fearing you discovering him? You checked everything on the top floor and worked down, calling his name in a more desperate tone with each exclamation. But finally you found him. Turning the corner back into the downstairs study. There he sat, in place of the doll. It wasn’t what you expected to see. The mask was shocking at first glance. You were momentarily stun locked. He was bigger than you anticipated, even sitting down. Finally you snapped out of it when he looked at you, and held out his bleeding hand. It had a sizable gash across the palm.

“It hurts,” He spoke in a child-like voice. The voice you’d heard months ago. His head drooped a touch as he spoke, “Can you fix it?” He asked. Finally, after another beat, you nodded. Your mouth felt dry. Too dry to speak. In the kitchen you found the first aid, and took it back with you. He hadn’t moved from his place on the makeshift bed. You knelt beside him, and carefully took his hand in yours. Up close you could see the burn scars that ran along his entire right side. Suddenly his outburst in the cellar made much more sense.. Carefully you applied some rubbing alcohol to the cut. That made Brahms whimper and pull his hand back. The look in his eyes behind that mask was murderous.

“I’m sorry, Brahms, but I have to.. To clean it.” You choke out. Your mouth is still far too dry. You hold your hand out for his again, giving him those warm eyes again. He would trust you wouldn’t he? After all, you had been the one to care for him all this time. He looked at your hand, then back to your face. For a moment Brahms almost seemed entranced by your eyes before conceding and resting his hand back in yours.

“Good boy..” You said, starting to clean the wound. He made a noise akin to that of a moan at your praise. You supposed you were the first person to touch him or give him praise in years. He was likely touch starved. Once the cut was clean, you grabbed the bandages and began to wrap his hand. He kept watching you. His breath was heavy behind that mask.

Finally you were done, and you let his hand go. Brahms examined your work, how carefully you’d wrapped him, and the cute little bow you’d tied it off with. As he studied his hand, you studied him. Despite the childish voice he put on, he was very much an adult. You could see his beard poking out from beneath the porcelain. He was actually rather handsome, you’d admit. The rain picked up again, and the lights began flickering. Brahms jumped and quickly moved closer to you. Before you knew it his head was hiding in your lap. Apparently he was afraid of the storm. Made sense, it had attacked him after all. Carefully you began to stroke his hair in an attempt to soothe him.

“We’ll be okay. Just a little wind and rain, that’s all. Maybe we can play cards? Or I can tell you a story?” You offered. Just trying to find anything to distract him from the weather outside damaging his home. Slowly he nodded, not lifting his head from your waist. Actually his grip seemed to grow tighter. You could feel him inhaling a little too deeply, and his hands started to squeeze your thighs as he held tight. You felt bad thinking how unsurprised that made you. But he had lived in the walls for twenty years.. And you were likely the first person he’d had stick around.

You settled back on to the makeshift mattress, Brahms never letting you go. He shuffled up a bit, so his face was resting against your chest. You kept stroking his hair, picking your brain for a story to tell. Something romantic as you had a wild feeling that was right up his alley. You recounted the story of Pride and Prejudice, not skipping any details of the classic story. Brahms seemed all too enthralled by the tale. He even began to kick his feet in the air when you recounted the climax between Elizabeth and the beloved Mr.Darcy. Just before you could finish though, the lights finally gave out. Brahms tensed up against you and again hugged you tight against him. You let out a wheeze. You needed to get the lamps but he seemed content just smothering you until the lights came back themselves. Finally you managed to sit up as he continued to cling like a baby koala.

“Brahms, sweetheart, I need to light the lamps.” You manage to get out. But that seems to make his grip tighter. He shakes his head, face pulling your shirt back and forth.

“No. No lamps. I don’t want any fire in the house.” He whimpered. Your heart broke a little. That night seemed to have never left Brahms.. You stroked his back soothingly before trailing your hands to cup his cheeks.

“Brahms, we need light. It’ll be okay, I can work an oil lamp-” You were cut off as Brahms slammed you back down against the floor. Even with the cushioning it knocked the air from your lungs. Your hands fell from his face beside yourself as his own gripped your shoulders.

“No fire in the house. Never again.” His voice was no longer that high falsetto. Instead it was deep, aggressive. He sounded his age. You gasped for air, before nodding. Tears had pricked your eyes. You felt a twinge of guilt as you questioned whether or not he’d hurt you.

Finally you found your voice again, “Okay Brahms. No lamps, I promise. Do you want another story?” You asked in a feeble attempt to calm him back down. Lucky for you it seemed to work. Brahms grip on your shoulders loosened, and he returned his head to your chest. He nodded and urged you on to tell your story.

A shaky sigh escaped you. You thanked your lucky stars that you could calm him so easily. As you began telling another story, the rain and wind outside crashed into the manor. You knew Brahms would never harm you. Not you. Not his caretaker. But you began to wonder. How long would this storm last? Suddenly, in the dark, the room no longer felt secure.

[floridahistoryman]

Destiny is real and it lead me to Terry Pratchett.

When I was in the fifth grade there was a used bookstore that I would go to occasionally. One day I went with an aunt of mine who is about as bookish as me. I was a pretty big fantasy nerd at the time, but that had only really meant reading subpar YA novels and the Hobbit about fifty times. So when my aunt spied a dog eared copy of Feet of Clay, she picked it up and bought it as a gift. I loved the book and read it over and over again.

Fast forward to middle school and life is kicking my teeth in. Coupled with the usual issues that crop up from puberty was a death in the family and a category five hurricane that tore through my town like a buzzsaw. All of these factors came together to form one very angsty teenager. So I fled into the Discworld as an escape and a place to heal. Three years later, I emerged from my paperback cocoon a better person than I was when I went in.

During my Discworld spree, I did some research on Sir Pratchett’s other works, and found out I had been reading him for years. One of the earliest novels I remember reading all by myself was “The Carpet People”. I had also been reading a weathered copy of “The Wee Free Men” from my elementary schools library since the Third grade. I hadn’t realized it, but his work had influenced my childhood reading and ignited my love of fantasy.

I won’t say Sir Terry Pratchett saved me, that would be my friends and family, but he wrote a world that I needed.

GNU Terry Pratchett

[sinofthesloth]

AAAAA i absolutely loved the 'running up and hugging them' hcs you wrote earlier this month :33 is there any chance you could do it again? with Leona and Idia? mayhaps? I would be oh so joyous ty!!!! also happy new year!!!

Hey, Sin here, I am so sorry this took so long to begin writing. I am currently on my "fall" break of college. I have missed writing for you guys so much.

ALSO, Idia's was kinda hard for me to write. I had so many different ideas that raced through my head. Most of which happened at work. Some many flew by that I began writing them on the backs of recipt paper. Sorry, his technically doesn't fit the prompt, but I think if someone ran at him, he'd fall over. Rich boy doesn't have muscles to keep himself steady.

Thank you for submitting this request and I do hope this is to your liking <333

Writing began: March 9th, 2024 Ended: October 1st, 2024 Content Warning: none Requested: Yep <3 Word count: 931 characters: Leona and Idia.

Leona

The hugs started after the spelldrive tournament. It was a joke in the beginning, just something you knew would get on his nerves enough to annoy him but not endanger yourself to his wrath. He'd glare and chuff at the unusual, but he never pushed you away. You always believed it had something to do with him keeping himself in check when it came to physical aggression.

Maybe he felt bad for his actions during his overblot or maybe he saw how everyone began taking more and more from you without offering any assistance, or maybe he was trying to find an excuse to hold you tightly as you wrapped your arms around his waist and buried your head into his chest.

It took weeks before he realized he began falling for you. Once he noticed it though, he was hooked with no way of backing out of it. This was a gradual build up. He would tug on your shirt at first. Just a handful and a quick grip and release. It wasn't a quick change but by the time he noticed was pulling you further into him and holding you until you pulled away, he couldn't stop himself. He enjoyed laying his head on yours as he held you after class. The shift was so gradual, you could really tell when he ever started hugging you back. This all started out as a way to annoy him anyway.

Leona, as if seeing the change in the wind, noticed the different ways you'd hug everyone else. You stopped rubbing your face into Deuce's or Ace's chest when the two of you hugged. You would give them quick side hugs but made sure to give him a full front facing hug before you had to leave, and lastly, you made sure to hug him before you left an area.

He could get used to this kind of solo attention.

Idia

It happened the first time out of pity. You had never met or seen him in person, and the more you saw his brother carrying a silent tablet, the more your heart went out for Ortho.

Ortho always talked quite highly of his brother. The more he boasted about his brother, the more people whispered. They whispered about the robot boy and his estranged brother.

You would let Ortho ramble. Sometimes, the man over the tablet spoke up to try and deter his brother's efforts, but no matter what was said, Ortho had a retort. When the tablet was eerily silent, Ortho was like a dam that had opened their flood gates after a hurricane. After each and every ramble session, you'd hug him and tell him you couldn't wait to meet his brother someday. It was said out of what felt like kindness, but it was pity, and you knew that deep down. You knew this man solely through his younger brothers eyes. A younger brother who talked extensively about how his brother made him and keeps up with his maintenance. Who's to say this isn't programmed into this little boys mind?

At the first meeting, Ortho ran to you for a hug. It was sweet, but the tall, slim figure a few feet away holding the hood of his hoodie over his head made you tense. Folks around here all have magic. One you couldn't identify meant danger in this world. Hell, ones you could have identified are dangerous.

Ortho pulled you to the man and introduced him to you. Idia stared at your hand as you lifted it for a hand shake. "Oh, don't be shy, Y/n, give him a hug too!" Ortho cheered, not sensing the tension and anxiety between the two of you. You hugged him, but the both of you were too much too stiff for it to look normal.

This is how almost every meeting went. The much taller boy never seemed to relax around you, but as you continued meeting, for Ortho's sake, you learned that this is just how he is. Your side of the hugs got less and less stiff while his remained taut.

"The only way he won't be so ridged in the hugs is if you surprise him!" Ortho commented. He was getting slightly huffy that his brother had yet to hug you properly, so to please the younger brother, you agreed to surprise him. But only once. You had surprised him with a soft hug from behind his gamer chair. He knew you were in the room before you touched him, but since he was focused on his game, his freak out was minimized. He patted your hand, and you let go. Afterward, the hugs were mainly from behind him while he was distracted.

He noticed how soft your hands were as they wrapped themselves around him. They never drifted away from his neck, scared to go too low, and didn't want to touch his chest.

You never ran at him like you did Ortho and the others. You treated him like a frighten cat at times. You'd always ask or make your presents known to him before hugging him. He knew you treated him differently, yet he couldn't bring himself to keep his ego in check. He'd message his discord friends about you, ask questions about what this meant, and why you acted like this with him. Ortho told him the same things long ago, but he never wanted to acknowledge that there might be something different between the two of you. He wanted a running hug, just once. But preferred knowing he was the only one that was gifted these soft, silent hugs.

[neverfindmegone]

Hi people, so I'm not a writer and I never wrote anything but my darling @pinkthrone445 is always writing the most amazing things, so I wanted to write this in her honor. Sorry if it's extremely silly and not well written but is my first try 🖤

What I can see

You and Melissa had been friends for a couple of months now. You met the red head during your first day in Abbot. You were nervous as hell to work as a teacher's aid, but you have always loved children and working with them was a dream.

At first, Melissa wasn't very friendly, she was extremely sarcastic, making fun of you every chance she got.

You still remember your first meeting, Ava had come to introduce you to the red head and you couldn't form one proper sentence, being stunned by her beauty.

- What's the matter Hon, did the cat get your tongue?

After that you started to spend more and more time with the older woman, and the intimidation you felt started to turn into a deep admiration. Being her helper was such an interesting job, the learning range was big, from teaching kids with special needs to having the number of a guy who could help you with racoon problems.

Yes. Melissa was an interesting woman and you started to fall for her more and more each day.

At first you believed to be a innocent crush, but the more you had one on one conversations, you saw that you couldn't stop thinking about what hurricane of a woman she was. Her presence, her personality, her looks, you were completely obsessed. What resulted in you finding every excuse possible to be around her all the time. You would bring her coffee, invite for lunches, drinks, movies almost every week after work.

Melissa seemed to appreciate the extra attention you gave her, sometimes you could swear you caught her staring when she thought you weren't looking.

Her bright green eyes shined when you overshared and her hands always found away to touch you, shoulders, hands, thighs.

That's how you found yourself in the current situation. Ava was giving one of her Ava speeches, and you had Melissa sitting right next to you, her arm touching yours. You were caught giving her looks from the corner of your eye, every time your skins would brush.

- Does she sound drunk to you? She whispered in your ear.

The hairs on the back of your back stood up immediately and you were frozen for a second. Her breath ghosting your skin made you feel dizzy whenever she was this close to you. Damn this woman had put you wonder a spell or something. When did you start to be so easily affected?

Melissa noticing your lack of response, shoved your arm slowly. - You okay?

- Yes, I mean no, not drunk, maybe hung over? I saw on her Insta last night, she was at the club until late.

- Club on a Wednesday? That's brave even for her. She eye rolled, looking back at the stage.

- Come on Schemmenti. You looked at her. - Can't you handle going out on a school night?

Her head snapped immediately, green eyes finding yours, nostrils inflating. You liked teasing her, it was a part of the flirting banter you had going on.

You raised both of your eyebrows challenging her. - Too old?

- Are you kidding me kid? You, me, club tonight. She said snapping, challenging you back.

- Deal, I'll pick you up at 7.

---

Later that night, you knocked on Melissa's door at 7:15. A bit late, but nothing that would bother the older lady. When the door was opened, your jaw dropped. She was wearing a tight red dress, her creamy cleavage completely in display.

You couldn't stop staring at her breasts, your breathing getting elaborated. This was definitely the rack from God.

Melissa's voice broke up you from your paralysis. - What's the matter hon? Am I over dressed?

You frowned, seeing her insecurity.

- Are you kidding me? Mel, you look... You paused, your eyes raking over her body up and down slowly. - Exquisite.

- Really? I'm not sure about this. She said entering the house, with you following. - I had other options. She gestured for you to follow her into the bedroom.

- Maybe these black jeans? She pointed to the bed, where a bunch of clothes were scattered. - I haven't been to a club in a while, I don't know what I was thinking.

You looked around seeing the mess in the room, realizing that she was probably over thinking this. You wanted nothing more than reassure her, this woman was divine, how couldn't she know that?

- No, you look perfect, I promise.

Melissa made a face, showing that she didn't believe you, she walked to the large mirror in the corner of her room, before standing there, observing herself. Her hands moved over her dress, tiding it up. - Am I too old for this?

- Melissa, please. You giggled, how did this goddess believe she was too old for anything. That's when you remember your teasing earlier, you started to feel guilty. She wouldn't have been upset over that, would she?

- Is this about earlier? You asked approaching her. - Let me show you something. You continued, moving yourself behind her in the mirror slowly, afraid to scare her away. Your desire was to prove to the woman how gorgeous she really was.

- What do you really think? She said looking at you, finding your eyes in the mirror.

You moved your hands to her hips gently, holding her in place, while making eye contact with her.

- I think you will be the hottest woman there. You squeezed her hips gently, before giving them a tap. - Come on.

Melissa huffs, before looking at you with vulnerable eyes. - Oh please.

You move closer, keeping your eyes on hers, before resting your chin on her shoulder. - I don't think you are aware of the effect you have on people. Your arms hugged her from behind while you spoke.

The older woman eyerolled. - Huf, you have to say that, you're my friend.

- Melissa stop. You moved your hands to hers, before squeezing them. - Please see what everyone can see... What I can see.

She blushed deeply. - Listen kid, I...

You moved closer in a fast manner, making her stop talking. You pressed your front against her back completely, before starting - First, look at these arms. You moved your hands up and down her shoulders gently. - They are muscular and strong.

You felt her tense up, looking at you with uncertainty. You gave her a wide smile before you felt her relaxing again, she gave you a small nod, letting you know it was okay to continue.

You shifted your hands to her stomach, stroking it with your fingertips. - Look at this waste, so gorgeous and just the right shape. Her eyes shifted to your hands movements, and her breath started to increase it's path, as she felt you caressing her skin.

- And these hips? Your hand moved down her curves, touching her more intimately now, increasing the pressure of your hands.

- They are so attractive, when you walk, people at school can't stop staring at them. You know when I first met you I couldn't stop thinking about your hips and thighs.

She shaked her head no. - It's true. You breathed in her ear. - You carry such power and swag when you walk, it's impossible not to look.

Her eyes starting to shine, lips quivering as she felt your hands moving to her behind. - I don't think I need to tell you about this mouth watering ass of yours, do I?

Your eyes found hers, completely black now, your hand moving up and down her butt cheeks. Your touch was maddening, Melissa was starting to tremble and you heard a small whimper scape when your nails traced her shape, teasingly.

Your face moved closer to hers, your nose brushing against her cheek, your eyes never leaving hers. - But do you wanna know my favorite? You said slowly, letting the tip of your tongue brush against her earlobe.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

Your hands roamed up her front and the red head felt like her skin was on fire, it was as if hot oil was being poured in every spot your fingers touched. Your hand stopped on her chest and you stretched your fingers to her neck, squeezing it gently.

- Y/N. She whimpered, her voice full of emotion.

Your fingers grasped her chin before turning her face to yours. - It's your face Melissa, I'm obsessed with your face. Your eyes kept drinking in hers while you spoke - Your eyes they are so green and deep. - Your smile lights up the whole room, it's contagious.

You leaned closer, letting your fingertips touch the tip of her nose - Your nose is sharp and perfect. You traced a path to her lips, observing her face deeply, like you were a painter and she was your master piece. Your fingers moved to her lips softly, the pressure light but steady.

- And your mouth, God your mouth.

Melissa held her breath, her eyes started to close, she was hypnotized by your caresses. Her eyes snapped open when she felt you pulling away. But before she could protest in disappointment you moved your hands to her breasts squeezing them roughly. You couldn't keep yourself away from them for one more second. - And these are the star of the show. You felt her nipples get hard while you played with them.

Her head fell to your shoulder before she groaned. - Fucking chirst Y/N.

You lost any self control you had left and turned her around, pressing her back against the mirror, trapping her with your hands beside her head . - Do you see it now? You asked, your eyes full of lust.

Her lack of response gave you the impression that she was uncomfortable, so you started to move away shyly. - Fuck, sorry Mel, I know we work together. Before you could finish your sentence Melissa grabbed your face and crashed her lips against yours. She was furious and putting all of her desire and longing into that kiss.

You had no idea how long she had craved this, how long she had craved you. And having your hands and whispers seducing her like that was enough to take the red head to a breaking point.

All she could see was black, her hands moved over your body frantically, squeezing every piece of flesh she could find.

You moaned feeling how dominant she had became, letting her take charge of the kiss. Your hands moved to her shoulders, clutching with force, returning all the fire the woman was giving you. You opened your mouth, accepting her tongue in. Your mind was dizzy with desire, and you couldn't stop yourself from moaning again.

- Holy fuck. You panted. You kissed for minutes, or what seemed to be hours. You couldn't get enough of her taste and she seemed to be obsessed with yours. Every time you would stop to breathe the other would pull in again with force, continuing the intense kiss. Your hands tangled in her gorgeous hair and hers groping you forcefully.

When you felt yourself close to fainting from the lack of air, you moved away from her, catching your breath so you could take a sight of what had just happened.

You moved your hand over your chest, trying to recover.

- Wow Schemmenti, I always assumed you were a good kisser but this, this is something else.

When you caught her eyes, she was still silent, chest and face red, she looked dangerous, almost a predator looking at her pray. - Mel?

She moved closer to you before shoving you in the bed savagely. You fell on your elbows harshly. - Ouch! Melissa! You said looking her with surprise.

- You had your fun seducing and playing me like pudding in your hands. Now it's my turn. She said while moving on top of you.

Her hands moved to your neck before squeezing it. - And you know something Y/N? She said while leaning in, letting her mouth hover over yours. - I don't think I want to go to the club anymore.

[weewookinard]

I Needed Life And Life Came (chapter 2)

What if Abby and Tommy had a kid before they broke up? What if Evan got attached to this kid when he was with Abby, and suffered this loss as much as losing Abby when they parted away? What if Tommy gained custody when Abby left and had to raise the kid alone while learning how to be true to himself? What if, years later, Tommy and Evan met during a hurricane, and fell in love?

Hi team, i already wrote chapter two, oops. Please don't hate me for some choices, such as Tamara's first word 👉👈

You can find this new chapter on AO3!

excerpt:

It's been three weeks since Abby dropped Tamara in his arms with the news of her departure. The span of a month, two at the most, just long enough for her to find herself and decide what she wants to do with the rest of her life. Three weeks since she kissed her daughter, tears in her eyes, before leaving without looking back.  Tommy knows that Abby loves Tamara. He knows that the choice to part with her was difficult, but necessary. That his ex needs to take care of herself without having to worry about anyone else. That traveling with a baby is a nightmare, and that Tamara will be better off here, with him.  Still, it's been three weeks since Tommy began feeling like he might drown. The Harbor Station captain let him take a few days off to deal with Tamara's arrival, but there's still so much to do. 

I have so many people to tag omg

@itsthecityoftheflower @chococara25 @thestrangestthing @apollabarnes

@starsetdystopia @donevanrocker @dark-alice-lilith @cheesycottagecheese

@queermccoy @thatmexisaurusrex @pati79 @al-in-my-head

@livelaughbuck @cinderellarhea @roystartt @quintessenceofdust88

@drarryweasley @shxiao @cull3nblaze @racerchix21

@bidisasterevankinard @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @hearteyesbuckley @sugdenlovesdingle

@leathercouchcushion @lavenderleahy @hippolotamus @autistictommykinard

@the-amber-raven @fanficmanic @hummelinski @sweaters-and-silly

@webbgirl34 @brassdragonage @perfectlysunny02 @adian-ua

[choicesficwriterscreations]

July OC of the Month: Luna Auclair

Please welcome July 2024's OC of the Month: @peonierose's Luna Auclair

Each month, we highlight one MC or OC on our Meet My MC / OC List. They are selected randomly on the Wheel of Names, and eligibility requirements can be found here. We accept MC / OC profiles on an ongoing basis. Please feel free to send yours in!

Learn more about Luna below

1- In your own words, tell us what you like most about your MC / OC. 

I love how passionate and carefree Luna is. She loves and gives without expecting anything in return. She is an amazing character, one I’d love to be friends with (because she’d know some hot guys and could get me a date 😅). Overall, she‘s very sweet, but hurt her friends or family, and you’ll get to know another side of Luna. 

She’s just a good soul with good and bad sides, which I love. Luna is sunshine mixed with a little hurricane. 

2- Do you feel your MC / OC is like you at all? How are you alike or different?

There are some things Luna and I share. We both struggle with anxiety. We both have a similar eye color (blue-green) and a shade of blonde hair. Hers is lighter than mine. We both share the love we have for our friends and family. We do share the same taste in guys or are somewhat similar 😅. We are different in the sense that Luna is a more creative soul, and she’s less stubborn than me 😅. 

3- What is most important to your MC / OC? What is their motivation in life?

Luna just wants to leave a good impression on people and life itself. She thinks if you send positivity into the world, good karma will return to you. 

To make memories that’ll last a lifetime. A life well lived and one that’s cherished. 

4- What are their biggest pet peeves/dislikes?

People who are judgmental of others

Liars

Tourists/Locals who endanger animals (in the ocean and on land alike) and litter (throwing their trash everywhere, including the ocean) 

5- If your MC / OC could change one thing - anything - what would it be?

Less war, hate and negativity in this world. Just live and let live. 

6- What is your MC / OC's favorite quote or song? 

Luna’s favorite quote is a Hawaiian saying her grandmother always mentions: ‘A’OHE PU’U KI’EKI’E KE HO’A’O ‘IA E PI’I – (No cliff is so tall it cannot be climbed.)

7- Other facts about Luna

Luna got her Bachelor of Fine Arts at the University of Hawaii. She specialized in ceramics, drawing, painting, and sculpture. Currently, she teaches art at the University of Hawaii, but she wants to have her own gallery in Honolulu to showcase her art and show how proud she is to call Honolulu her home.

She actually has a sweets drawer; Bryce always makes fun of her but secretly takes some caramel-covered almonds from Luna’s drawer, and she pretends she doesn’t notice 😅.

Her favorite painting by Lindsay Wilkins is ”Akala Sunset“ (akala = pink in Hawaiian).

8- Is there anything else you’d like to share about your MC / OC? 

I created Luna while going through a rough patch in my life. I was fired from my job during COVID, and so many other things were happening, so I was looking for something to help me deal with things. That’s when I found Tumblr and all these wonderful people. At first, I hadn’t even thought of writing anything, but then I kept having this idea for an OC, and I wrote down a fic, and it went from there. 

Luna inspires me daily. To live in the moment, to enjoy life. To spend less time on my phone (even if it’s where all my notes about stories and characters live 😅) and to spend more time with my friends and family. To love pink. Be more positive in life, and not let the bad days win. To simply be more me, my sometimes weird, full-of-energy Aries self.

I‘m also SO grateful I created Luna and all my wonderful stories. Thank you to anyone who’s ever given my characters and stories a chance. I will never be able to express my thanks and gratitude 🥰.

Also, here is a little thank you letter from Luna. 

Dear you,

Whatever happens in life, whether good or bad, don’t take it too personally; don’t let it consume you. Just try to breathe out and let it go (yes, it can be like the song from Frozen 🥰) I learned a long time ago that if you carry hate and bad vibes with you, it’ll be like a bad smell, you can’t get rid of, and you don’t want that do you? So be you!!!!!! However, you choose to be, whatever you wear, how you express yourself. Be you!!!! And maybe live close to a place that has a lot of sun and a beach (just saying, vitamin D is good, you know, and yes, the advice came from Bryce 🥰) 

Whoever needs to hear this: I see you. You are loved; you are worthy. This world wouldn’t be the same place without you in it. Never forget that!

Lots of love Luna

[tomorrowusa]

Q: What sort of idiot alienates a large number of key voters in swing states nine days before an election? A: Donald Trump.

Trump and his cronies may try to blame his disastrous MSG rally on everybody but Trump. But we all know that Trump micro-manages his rallies. He even curates the music playlist. Any attempt to assign blame to anybody but Trump is pure Trump bullshit.

Donald Trump’s Madison Square Garden rally Sunday evening was supposed to provide his closing argument against Kamala Harris. Instead, Trump and his supporters are being forced to answer for hateful and racist rhetoric delivered from the podium Sunday night with just eight days left in the campaign. [ ... ] And Trump’s opponents are using the rally as proof of the former president’s divisiveness, going as far as likening the rhetoric from Sunday’s rally to the sinister 1939 Nazi rally that took place in the same venue. “My reaction is that was a combination of 1933 Germany, 1939 Madison Square Garden last night,” former Trump adviser Anthony Scaramucci said on MSNBC’s “Morning Joe” Monday morning. “What you saw last night is a divisive America. That’s race baiting. It’s all the things that we were doing in the ‘30s and ‘40s.” Rep. Alexandria Ocasio Cortez (D-N.Y.), called Sunday night’s event a “hate rally.” “This was not just a presidential rally, this was not just a campaign rally. I think it’s important for people to understand these are mini January 6 rallies, these are mini Stop the Steal rallies,” she said on “Morning Joe.” [ ... ] New Jersey congressional candidate Nellie Pou, who is Puerto Rican, said the rally was reminiscent of Trump’s widely criticized handling of Hurricane Maria, which devastated the island in 2017. “These words are a warning of how he would treat Puerto Ricans if he were to set foot again in the White House,” she wrote on X.

I'm presuming this list of states showing numbers of Puerto Rican residents (via Wikipedia) is up to date. These are just the top twelve states.

If I counted accurately, there are three swing states on this list: Pennsylvania, North Carolina, and Georgia. Not only that, but Puerto Ricans make up 3.6% of Pennsylvania's population. The figure for North Carolina is 1.1% and 1.0% for Georgia.

As luck would have it, VP Kamala Harris was in Pennsylvania on Sunday – before and during Trump's racist shit show in NYC. The Harris campaign released this video BEFORE the start of Trump's Nazi-revival rally. It just happens to deal with Puerto Rico. 🇵🇷

Harris unveils new Puerto Rico policy plans in Philly campaign swing

It was a classic case of being in the right place at the right time with the right message.

Puerto Ricans have the opportunity in this election to tell Trump what they think of his campaign calling them "garbage".

[mikeywayarchive]

OBITUARY

BOB BRYAR, FORMER DRUMMER OF MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE, DEAD AT 44

The musician performed with the rock band on The Black Parade and Danger Days after joining in 2004

By EMILY ZEMLER

NOVEMBER 30, 2024

Full article under the cut:

Bob Bryar of My Chemical Romance performs at Big Day Out Festival 2007 at the Sydney Showground. PAUL MCCONNELL/GETTY IMAGES

Bob Bryar, the drummer of My Chemical Romance from 2004 to 2010, has died at the age of 44, Rolling Stone has confirmed. 

“The band asks for your patience and understanding as they process the news of Bob’s passing,” a spokesperson for the band tells Rolling Stone. 

Details surrounding his death were not given, but law enforcement sources told TMZ the musician was found in his Tennessee home, and no foul play is suspected. The medical examiner is investigating the cause of Bryar’s death.

Born in Chicago in 1979, Bryar started playing drums at a young age and got a degree in sound engineering from the University of Florida before becoming a touring sound engineer. He worked for Thrice and the Used and met My Chemical Romance while on tour with the Used in 2004.

Later that year, My Chemical Romance replaced drummer Matt Pelissier shortly after the release of the New Jersey rock band’s second LP, Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge. He went on to perform on three of the band’s subsequent releases, including their seminal 2006 album, The Black Parade, and their 2010 effort, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys.

“This was the biggest record I have ever done and I was nervous,” Bryar recalled of recording The Black Parade in an interview with Alternative Press. “Along with being nervous, we all had to feel out the writing dynamic between all of us. I was very vocal about my drum parts, but let the other dudes do their thing because they were doing so well and didn’t need anyone chiming in every second. That leads me to remember one situation where it was super-late and only G, the engineer and myself were at the studio. There was a vocal harmony that I kept hearing. It was the first time I got the balls to ask someone to try something. That idea made it to the record, which was really nice for me to see happen.”

He added, “As we were recording the record, I was getting more and more excited. It was turning out to be a very complete and a very entertaining audio story… I really feel every part of that record, down to the artwork, is pretty unbeatable. I hope those songs will be around for a long time.”

Bryar departed from My Chemical Romance, who later disbanded in 2013, following the release of Danger Days, although he performed on the band’s singles collection, Conventional Weapons. Band member Frank Iero confirmed in a statement that Bryar’s exit was “a painful decision for all of us to make and was not taken lightly.” He added, “We wish him the best of luck in his future endeavors and expect you all to do the same.”

My Chemical Romance replaced Bryar from 2011-2013 with Jarrod Alexander, who also joined the band for their 2022 reunion tour. After leaving the band, Bryar continued to tour behind the scenes with various bands and became involved in dog rescue charities and sanctuaries. In 2014, he quit the music industry to pursue a career in real estate.

In 2021, Bryar auctioned off the drum kit used during the band’s 2005 MTV VMAs performance to raise money for the Williamson County Animal Control and Adoption Center in Tennessee. “It’s my favorite finish of all of the kits I’ve had,” he wrote of the set. “If you look closely, there is still some confetti from tour that snuck into the bass drum hole. I’ll leave that in there for you.” In 2022, Bryar announced he would be selling his original Black Parade uniform to help “abandoned and sheltered animals in areas of Florida and South Carolina that are affected by Hurricane Ian.”

END

[leosuntaurusmoon]

Hunkered down during hurricane Milton and the power in our apartment went off around 4pm. Also my wisdom tooth has been coming in and causing me a ton of pain. Hours later I finally lit some candles and sat down and wrote a prayer to Apollo and the moment I wrote the word “aid” the power flickered. Excitedly I finished writing and the moment I finished the prayer the power was restored. I got up and realized my tooth no longer caused me major pain. I feel so blessed and thankful to lord Apollo. I hope he feels my praise and love for this 🧡