#yes I am also sneaking onto Tumblr with the school computers

[aby55-of-the-ab5o1ute]

GUYS WE'RE SO COOKED

guess who changed their SCHOOL ACCOUNT pfp to MURDER DRONES

i live with no regrets.

[blush-and-books]

i am always yours

canonverse juke one-shot, light angst with a happy ending :) as a part of the effort to get juke back on the tumblr fandometrics ship list! title from the end of all things by p!atd. again, fuck brendon urie, but i’ve had this hc about luke for awhile (you’ll see what i mean) and had to get this out! <3 enjoy!

When Julie told Luke about Panic! At The Disco, she didn’t just give him a list of songs to check out. She advised to listen through entire albums. 

“You have a lot to catch up on,” she said, grinning over a mug of steaming tea. Her smile could convince him to do anything. “And these guys were a phenomenon. Despite… A lot that has happened with their lead singer, you’ll appreciate the music. Just give it a try when you feel like it.”

Julie never rushed him on anything. It was one of the things he loved most about her -- she only really insisted he know how to use her phone and the internet and maybe know some memes, but the rest was up to him. She loved him -- he hoped -- even if he wanted to stay in 1995. 

However, whenever she told Luke to do something, like “look into it if you’re interested” or “check it out if you’re ever bored,” he would jump on it in an instant. 

He wondered if she ever noticed. Acts of service was one of those love language things that Flynn was always talking about, right? Does making the effort to show an interest in the other person’s life by listening to every album by a band they like count?

He would ask Reggie or Alex, but Reggie doesn’t have much experience in the love department and Alex and Willie are much better at communicating than he is with Julie. 

To be clear: Luke doesn’t have experience either. In fact, Reggie probably has more romantic experience between the two of them. 

But none of it was as serious. This weird thing he has with Julie; this undefined, label-lacking supernova of passion and emotion that he has curled up in his chest is so strong sometimes it hurts. When Julie was upset at him and ignored him, it felt like the time his mom took his guitar and locked it away for a week. 

But when Julie is around, and she’s smiling at him, he could swear that not even a roaring audience could spark the kind of nirvana he feels. 

So, the day after she gives him the name of every Panic! album to date, she goes to school for six hours and he sneaks her laptop down to the garage and starts his deep dive. 

(Yes, Julie gave him computer privileges. He knows boundaries. She’s just broadened hers.)

Blissfully and with few interruptions from his other bandmates, he goes through the first albums quickly. He skips most of Pretty Odd -- Julie should have warned him about that one -- and is enjoying himself until he gets to the later projects which are significantly less his sound. 

But he keeps going. He reaches their album from 2013, which has this neon-angsty-alt-pop vibe that he honestly has a neutral opinion on. The songs are all good until he realizes that half of them have a painfully romantic overtone that ropes his mind back to Julie every time he tries to stray. 

Fuck, one of the songs is literally titled Girl That You Love. How is he not supposed to have a montage of Julie in his head?

And then some shit called Far Too Young To Die comes on, and yes, he agrees, he was far too young to die. He also vows to never listen to it again in the next 24 hours because he is ultimately tempted to loop it until Julie comes back and kiss her breathless the second that she walks through the door. 

Moving on, Collar Full doesn’t make things much better. He is sick and tired of waiting and dancing around his feelings for her, and every time they are together he is filled to the brim with lyrics and love from just minutes in her presence. 

(“If you’re gonna be the death of me, that’s how I want to go” definitely shatters him. But only briefly. He wants to soak up every ounce of love he can get from her before the world catches up to them and he’s crossing over without his consent.)

Luke thinks that he’s out of the woods when he hits the album-ending ballad, The End of All Things. 

And then he sees that he’s still in the thick of it. 

The way it hits him is nearly indescribable -- but every line hits like a read-aloud of his diary. 

No matter where he is, or where he ends up, his soul will always belong to Julie Molina. And that’s the truth of it. He can cross over or the band could break up and he could wander the planet as a lost ghost for the rest of eternity, but his soul will linger; tied with Julie’s in an unsolvable knot. 

He is hers. 

He is hers, he is hers, he is hers. 

And he’s in love with her. 

He can’t ask her to love him back. But he can hope, right? For just a single moment where they can lay together and be Julie and Luke like they should have been.

The tears on his cheeks and under his eyes don’t register until they are streaming down his neck and onto the pillow that he’s laying on. 

He doesn’t deserve Julie, he knows that. And he knows how fucking selfish it would be to even try. But sometimes the wanting reaches inside of him and individually snaps each and every one of his ribs, and that feeling keeps him pushing and pulling like the tide. Get close to her, make her smile, make her laugh. 

Leave her alone. Stop flirting. Don’t you dare hurt her. 

Think about somebody other than yourself. 

This song, he ends up looping. Over and over and over until his emotions are exhausted and he doesn’t have any tears left to cry. He’s on his… Probably his ninth listen when the doors crack open, and the piano music is leaking out of the garage as Julie slips in. 

“Luke! Hey, uh… Oh! You’re listening to Panic!”

He guiltily allows his heart to skip at the pleasant surprise in her smile. Clearing his throat, he swipes his hands viciously across his cheeks to rid of the tear stains and shoots her one of his classic smiles. “‘Course, Boss. You told me to.”

Her backpack hits the coffee table as she slowly approaches the couch to settle next to him. “Yeah, well… I didn’t actually expect you to. People normally just say ‘yeah, I’ll check it out!’ and then no one talks about it again.”

Something rubs him the wrong way about her not thinking that he would actually follow through with her recommendation. Does she doubt him? How does she not know that she could say jump and he would ask how high?

“Well, I’m not normal people. I care about what you care about.”

He knows he got her when she averts her eyes to Alex’s drums across the room; giving Luke a perfect view of her blush. Maybe he lets himself revel in it for a moment longer than necessary. 

“Anyways, how was school? Did you have a good day?”

“It was fine,” she shakes off her previous flusteredness, tucking her leg under her body so that she can turn to fully face him. “But there's nothing to tell. I would much rather hear about what you thought of Panic! And you have to tell me why you were wiping tears off of your face when I came in.”

Luke mirrors her position and gives her a joyful grin, trying to ignore the fact that she clearly noticed him trying to clean his face and wants to talk about it. The two of them have been so good at communication, and if it were about anything else, he would tell her. 

But he was nearly sobbing because of how much he loved her and couldn’t have her, so… 

“They were pretty cool, I’ll give it to you. I liked the album… Vices and Virtues?” Julie nods her head. “Yeah, that one. I was finishing the Vegas one when you got home.”

“Did you like it? The album you just finished. It sounded like End of All Things when I came in.”

With wide eyes and an exaggerated nod, Luke is praying internally that she will move on and go on a tangent about her favorite albums and songs because he just wants to listen to her talk and quietly love her instead of dodge questions about his emotions. 

“Okay, and did you like it? Is that-” She chuckles. “Is that what got you emotional? I mean, I get it, that song hits different sometimes, but-”

Luke stays quiet. If he keeps his mouth shut, and just smiles and stares and nods, it won’t slip. 

“... Luke? Are you listening to me?”

“Yeah, of course!”

“... So? Are you… Are you okay? Did it remind you of your mom?”

It reminded me of you, he instantly corrects her with the little voice in his head. 

But the voice sounds louder than usual, and then Julie’s eyes widen, and Luke couldn’t even smile and nod well enough to cover this up. Since when is he so bad at bottling up his emotions?

Right. Since he couldn’t write songs about his feelings. Because if he did, Julie would see them, so every word of affection toward her was shoved into an overflowing filing cabinet in his brain that was probably waiting to explode at any moment. 

“It- Really?”

Mental checklist: She isn’t running away. She isn’t crying. She isn’t running away while she’s crying. 

She isn’t slapping him, or screaming at him, or expressing any negative emotions. 

Maybe he can push another inch… Just for some relief.

“Y- Yeah.” The single word takes considerable effort to stutter out, but he says it. 

Julie formulates her next move. “And… Like, what about it? What reminded you of me?”

Is Luke imagining things, or did she just shift closer to him? Oh, God. The selfishness has already done it’s damage. He’s initiating something that he definitely shouldn’t for both of their sake, but-

God, why does she look so pretty?

“Y’know,” he scratches the back of his neck, “the… The lyrics.” 

“The lyrics?” “Yeah.”

“Which ones?”

She’s leaning in. Her fingers are trailing up the side of his leg, and he wants to poof himself out of this conversation but what would hiding do? Just create a bigger gap between them?

His mom always told him he was selfish. He really, really doesn’t want to be selfish to Julie. He wants to protect her. He wants to put her health and happiness and life before his. Hurting her will never give him peace. 

Is he being selfish either way? Telling her his feelings to make himself feel better, and avoiding his feelings because he thinks it will be better without talking to her about it -- neither are ideal, are they?

His hand, which was previously resting in his lap, inches down to brush against hers. “The first verse…” Their index fingers wrap around each other. “And the chorus, and the second verse…”

Both of their hands tangle until Luke doesn’t even remember what his hand looked like before, because all he sees is a bronze-ivory marble of skin and he knows he doesn’t ever want to see his hand without hers again. 

“Luke…”

“Yeah, Boss?” “Why were you upset?”

She really won’t let it go. She clearly knows him too well, because he would hope any other person would be distracted by the fact that they were about to kiss, but this is Julie. They’re friends first. Family first. 

He owes her honesty, doesn’t he?

“Because the song was right,” he answers, staring deadlocked at their joined hands. “No matter where I am, or how much time goes by… It’s gonna be you. On my mind. My feelings will never change.”

He can’t tell, but Julie’s heart ignites in her chest. 

“Feelings? What-”

Somehow, the words still don’t want to come out. The eight letters are resisting every opportunity she has offered him, so he resorts to actions and cuts her off by raising their joined hands to kiss the back of her hand. 

His lips linger before their union drops back into the space between them.

“... Oh.”

“Yeah.”

In a moment of courage, Luke peeks up at her, just to see how she looks. If he can read everything she’s feeling in a millisecond of a glance. 

There are tears in her eyes. 

“Whoa, Jules, why are you crying?” “Why were you crying?”

“Because I’m afraid of doing this!” Her hand tightens around him at his volume. “Julie, I- I don’t want to do anything selfish. I can’t have you thinking I’m selfish. I’m afraid of-” He has to take a deep, shaky breath. “When we hold hands or when you smile at me and I just feel so much and then I tell myself that I can’t, because you have so much ahead of you, and I don’t even know what’s in my future.”

The tears well in her eyes. “What would you be doing that’s selfish, Luke? You have a second chance at life. You should fucking live it. You have a future, and it has the boys, and the band, and me. I’m in your future.” 

There’s a beat, because he’s looking at her, and he wants to cry but he wants to say it so badly. 

He still doesn’t know how much time he has in the future, but Julie is telling him that she’ll be there. And he needed that more than anyone would understand. 

“Well, aren’t I?”

Julie’s question shocks him a little because he hadn’t realized that he had been quiet for so long. Her bottom lip trembles the smallest amount when she sucks in a deep breath, and it sets him off to do what he had once deemed to be the most selfish act of all. 

His free hand tucks itself in the hair on the base of her neck and tugs her towards him before he covers her mouth with his in a kiss that he has furiously dreamed of for a long time. For such a sweet moment, there is an overload of passion behind it. All of his fantasies were rushed and adrenaline-fueled after shows before he would talk himself down; and now, that is translating to this kiss.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps as he pulls away. “That’s the selfish thing I was worried about. Fuck, I-”

Her hand wrestles free from his, and suddenly, two hands are on his cheeks like the night after the Orpheum and the love of his life is pulling herself into his lap. On autopilot, he untucks his leg from underneath him and shifts to sit normally on the couch while Julie’s legs hold her up on each side of his hips. 

And she’s kissing him again, touching him again, before he can let the panic set in. She moves her lips against his like she has her own overflowing filing cabinet of feelings and fantasies and lyrics just for him.

Her hands wondrously drain every jolt of worry and anguish from his nervous system as they run from his face to his arms to his chest and back again. Kissing Julie Molina is a thousand little feelings and it’s own feeling  in itself.

When you get cold water from a water fountain and it’s so refreshing that you insatiably want more. When the set ends and Luke is taking his bows and watching people scream and clap for their performance, knowing once again he’s succeeding in the one thing he’s ever wanted to do. 

Only now, making music is now tied with making Julie happy on that list of priorities. 

Holding her under his hands is stupidly one of his favorite things, and in this context, it is leaving him clawing for more. He applies more pressure against her back to try and press her closer, but it never feels like enough. 

Julie is an endless fountain of fervor, and he can only drink up everything he can get. 

She’s the one who pulls away this time; but she keeps her fingers knotted in his hair because she plans to not stray far. 

“You’re not selfish,” she sighs, chest heaving with deep breaths. “If you think that’s selfish, then I’m selfish. And we can do this together. We deserve it.”

Hearing the words tumble from her lips cancels out every fight he’s ever had with his mother. 

She’s right -- they do deserve it. She shut the world out for a year, he was locked away from the world for 25, and by some miraculous turn of fate, they were brought to each other. 

“We deserve it,” he repeats, a little distracted by her blown pupils and delirious smile. “We deserve it.”

They lean in at the same time to fall back into one another like it’s a new routine they’ve set. Luke doesn’t say the words, not yet, at least-

Because like she said, they deserve this. Julie Molina is on his lap, in his arms, playing him with her soft hands like his skin is the ivory keys she’s been playing since childhood. He loves her, and he’s pretty sure that she loves him -- so maybe, even though the future is uncertain, he can just wait a little longer to tell her. There’s simultaneously less of a delay and less of a rush. 

Later, when they’re in her room and staying up way too late for a school night in deep discussion, he mumbles it against her forehead while she has her head tucked into his shoulder and their shared earbuds are playing The End of All Things. 

Any concerns of selfishness fade when she wastes no time in reciprocating his declaration and punctuating her feelings with a cripplingly soft kiss above his collar bone. 

If any of this is selfish, they can be selfish together. Luke can find himself to be content in that if Julie is right there with him. 

--

tags: @lydias--stiles @bluefirewrites @willexx @moreflowersthanweeds @ruzek-halstead @xxprettylittletimebombxx  @unsaid-emily

[newtonsheffield]

Hi!! I just wanted to tell you how much I do love your stories and how much I am really into them! I even have pop-up notifications in here and Ao3 to know when you share with us more about Bridgerton and Sons - which seems kinda a stalker, now I think of it... but it's not like that! 😅🤦‍♀️

The thing is, I'm a very musical person; whenever I read or do some computer-required work, or basically anything in my life tbh, music is always present. For instance, I'm re-reading again (can't they just, magically, give us Season 2 already? 🤣) TVWLM and for Anthony and Kate's Wedding night, I cannot help but "listen to" 'Experience', by Ludovico Einaudi; and when reading/imagining the wedding in the Bridgerton and Sons Universe, Anthony and Kate are dancing to 'You & I', by Crystal Fighters (which is so refreshing, good vibes and just PERFECT).

If it's not too much to ask, which kind of music do Kate and Anthony listen to? Which is their favourite genre; would it surprise us all? I don't know why I picture Anthony completely flabbergasted to Kate's musical tastes. 🤣

Thank you in advance and thank YOU for giving us content and such a beautiful story when we're waiting for the season to come. 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

PD.: thank you for not making Penelope be Lady Whistledown in Bridgerton and Sons. Despite I liked that plot in the books, I just cannot imagine in here Penelope saying nasty things about people we know she loves a lot.

Hi! 

(This got a little longer so I’ve put a cut in)

I’m so glad you’re enjoying Bridgerton and sons!  And perhaps it’s ridiculous, but I’m terribly flattered you have notifications turned on for both Ao3 AND this black hole of a tumblr account (makes me very curious how many other’s also have notifications turned on!) Anyway, no, I don’t think you’re stalking me, that’s why the notification system exists! 

I will own to also being a slightly musically inclined person: Fun fact about me, I’m a classically trained saxophonist! And (and this is really going to tell you all JUST how cool a person I truly am) Guys, I was the captain of my High School Jazz band  😂😂I can play guitar, ukulele and Piano to varying degrees of proficiency but I would never in a million years play any of those three instruments in front of another human being! That being said my own taste in music is cripplingly basic as anyone who has dared look at the Bridgerton and Sons playlist on spotify can attest too. It has often been joked by my friends that I cannot start a playlist without putting Fleetwood Mac’s Rumors album on and Shania Twain’s Come on Over album.  But! I love Ludovico Einaudi! His work is always so beautiful and tbh whenever I listen to it I get a little choked up!  and I hadn’t heard You & I before but I can definitely see them dancing to it at their wedding, just being sickeningly in love and happy. We love to see it. 

Also, when I first started writing Insufferable Penelope probably was going to be the writer but... the longer it went on and the crueler the things said got, I decided it just wasn’t right. This isn’t a Gossip Girl situation fam. 

Okay! Kate and Anthony’s favourite Music! 

Kate was a young girl in the mid-late 90′s so unfortunately I think we know what this means: Kate knows the entirety of the Spiceworld album by heart. She could probably do it backwards. She would never admit it to Anthony but she had a Justin Timberlake poster on her wall for a very long time. Anthony does not have the heart to tell her that he knows she love NSYNC because Edwina has showed him a video of their perfectly choreographed routine to Bye Bye Bye. She’s also quite partial to the 80′s rock that played heavily in her house growing up. And Anthony is very surprised to find a Def Leppard shirt amongst her laundry one day. While Anthony may not be partial to Kate’s music, he does think it’s very adorable when she sings along in her endearingly tone deaf way, and so more often than not when they’re cooking together in the kitchen, they’re playing her music.  

Anthony is a soft rock/indy kind of guy. He’s constantly bringing up bands that Kate has never even heard of. She gets tugged along to concert after concert of music that all sounds exactly the same to her but she really doesn’t care because Anthony is there, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, singing softly in her ear, a huge smile on his face. And he looks so happy, and young, and carefree that her heart nearly bursts for him. 

There is one time when Kate finally recognises a song on Anthony’s playlist about 4 months into their relationship and she squeals a little with delight and amusement when it starts. “Hyacinth is getting awfully good at sneaking songs onto your playlist.” She says, smirking as she starts to hum along, but she can’t help but notice that Anthony hasn’t done anything, didn’t make a disgusted noise, his hand hasn’t even moved from hers to try and change the song, and then she notices his ears going a little red.  “Oh my god!” she says laughing brightly “You, Mr. Music is artistry Katie put this song on here didn’t you?!” And Anthony tuts and puffs his chest a little which only makes her heart burst more for him when he says, more than a little primly  “It reminds me of you.”  And god help her, as soon as they get home Kate takes it upon herself to show him that yes God is a woman      

[skevans]

Nocturne op.72 no.1 — Essay

Hi, welcome to my long-forgotten tumblr I barely remembered existed. Dust and cobwebs aside, this is an essay I initially wrote in French for a Literature class. Don't ask me how the hell I found the will to hand this in to my teacher, bless his soul.

A couple of years later, I found that essay in the depth of a folder on my computer. I remembered what was in it, to a point, but when I decided to read it again, I got very emotional (and very mortified 'cause oh god school). And during the following weeks, I started thinking about a lot of things that were still floating unresolved within my head. But then, I decided to write. And after a few days of internal debate, I posted the first chapter of A Sea of Silence.

It's been months since I finished that story, and those months have not been kind to me for many reasons. And maybe that's why, this week, I started thinking about that essay. When I did, I was overcome with a desire to share it with the world—and especially with the people who read my fic. So here it is, hastily translated but just as honest. Please note that it discusses anxiety.

And so, thank you if you take the time to read this, and an even bigger thank you if you read the essay, too! 

Nocturne op.72 no.1

When I think back on my childhood, I hear the sound of piano. Various melodies follow me, accompanying me in a waltz between memories. It’s my mother’s interpretation of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata that haunts the quiet moments. My sister and I would play in an adjacent room, glowing with delight as our mother started the first movement. It’s the piece’s somber and melancholic tone that colours my memory, but it’s a good kind of darkness—the kind that feels like the soft touch of night as you walk under the stars. My mother didn’t stop there; she would segue into the second movement, a graceful interlude that almost got swallowed in between the grandiosity of the other movements. And at last, she would tackle the final piece. I remember the anticipation; I remember wanting to watch her fingers fly over the keys. We would sneak in the living room—don’t make so much noise, you’re gonna bother her!—and thus we became the spectators to a private concert. The combination of semiquavers and staccato, everything played presto agitato, was the most fascinating thing. And despite the intensity and the tempestuous rhythm, I would sense my muscles relaxing, my thoughts lightening, the frenetic beat of my heart slowing. When I listen to this piece now, there’s still a glimpse of that long forgotten peace.

I turn six and I learn the piano. It’s a decision that comes from me, but also from my mother. It’s a decision that pleases me, even enchants me. The learning process goes well; I love to learn and I love to play—a rarely seen fervour seizes me. My motivation originates both from a desire to walk into my mother’s footsteps and from a childish inclination to create noise. The teacher likes me, and the sentiment is reciprocal; she speaks with a soft voice, but underneath there is an unyielding tone that I come to respect. She nudges me forward, constantly making sure that I don’t neglect my practice. I try to meet her expectations because I want to succeed, but also to maintain that impression of calm that possesses me when I sit at the piano.

The next step is to play at a recital, so we set off for the musical conservatory. I’m ten the first time I play before an audience. Panic controls me—I worry I won’t be able to perform, and the thought loops in my mind until I believe it. I climb on the stage in spite of my terror, and the room morphs into a cage. At 10 years-old, the size of the concert hall is intimidating, to a point that my heart crawls up my throat. The exit is far—way too far—and all the stares fixed on me feel more like I’m attending a trial than a recital. My hands become damp (how will I play if my hands slip?), but wiping them on my dress of red velvet means showing my fear—and my father always tells me not to show my fear. So I look at the floor and force my legs to move until finally, finally, I stand before the piano. I sit. Even now, I believe it’s impossible for me to play my piece, that piece I yet find so easy. I take my time adjusting the bench; once done, my hands reflexively settle over the keys. One deep breath—and I start to play. That tranquility I’m so desperate for guides me, and the audience fades from my mind. My eyes track my fingers as they find all the notes—not one mistake—and for a moment, it’s like I’m floating over my body, surrendering utter control to instinct and music. Once the piece ends and my hands lift from the piano, it’s the thunderous applause that tugs me back into reality; I walk off the stage, that paralyzing feeling of fright dismissed.

The feeling that possesses me is anxiety. At 6 years-old, as I begin learning the piano, I don’t know what anxiety is; the only thing I understand is that music offers solace. When I turn 10, I can’t find the word to explain that emotion that assaulted me as I stepped on the stage. It’s with time that I discover the word “anxiety”. I see my reflection in the definitions I find in dictionaries and on the web; it’s those definitions that grasp onto me, that glue themselves over me until I cannot dissociate them from my being without ripping out of my skin. The term “anxiety” now belongs to me—or rather, I belong to it. The years pass and my thoughts cede before it. My anxiety takes control of me for a period of my life; I have lost all mastery of myself. I graduate from high school with terrible difficulty; I drop out of college three times. But anxiety doesn’t stop there; she smears her poison throughout all spheres of my life. My relationship with my family degenerates slowly but surely—so do many of my friendships. Working becomes a hurdle because my boss at the store agitates me with her severe attitude—it feels like nothing is never enough and everything is wrong. I cannot stand myself anymore. Anxiety seeps into my body, an army of swarming bugs that infiltrate all I am as an individual. They contaminate me from the inside, and I am nothing but a puppet, subjected to circumstances out of my control. And this lasts and lasts and lasts for eight years—eight long years. I lose my footing and fall into the arms of depression several times. Appointments with doctors tell me what I already knew. We try solutions and then more solutions; there are good times, scarce but cherished. But happiness and peace of mind slip through my fingers like grains of sand; I grab another handful, but it was never meant to last. These feelings end up seeming distant, unreachable, impossible. I mind myself to the fact that I will have to live with the physical and emotional wounds my anxiety inflicts on me. Time and experience allow me to gauge my level of comfort and how to react; sometimes, I cannot step out of my apartment. And so life goes on—and I am swept away by the tides.

Thinking back on this slice of my life, I’ve come to several conclusions. There were many happenings that were completely out of my control—and yet, as I dig deeper and deeper, I realize that this deviation originates from one thing in particular.

The year I turn 15, I experience an acute pain in my right wrist. Holding a pen for longer than a few minutes is impractical; playing piano on a regular basis is impossible. Those news, validated by a medical consultation, are not surprising—but they are heartbreaking. Later, the pain extends to my shoulder. Within weeks, I become an unwilling witness to the collapse of my dream of studying and teaching piano. The problem comes from within me, within my body—my love for the piano is the trigger to this pain. I’m told that a cure is implausible—you can do exercises to lessen the pain, and you have to eliminate repetitive movements since they will worsen it, and yes, miss, that includes the piano. I used to play piano at least one hour a day, something that unconsciously kept my anxiety at bay—but the inability to play for longer than a few minutes opens the door to my anxiety. I discover myself anew when I’m 16: tirelessly worried, always anxious, terribly distrustful. It’s the start of the downward spiral. I am not me anymore, I am someone else. Anxiety is my mother, instability is my father, fear is my sister. I am reborn into an unknown world dubbed Real Life by my family, who firmly believe this is part of being a teenager. But I don’t believe in this Real Life, and I pray to all and nothing for a miracle. I only know one line of prayer so I make up my own. I fill fictive litanies with my fears and my hopes. Amen. I refuse to consider this existence as True because to me, it can only be False. But my convictions are tossed aside, their dismissal hammered into me endlessly. It’s almost as if a huge neon sign hangs on a wall of my bedroom: Welcome to Real Life! But all I see are ridiculous directives that only bring misfortune—don’t forget to register for our latest draw! Discover what setbacks you will endure next! I don’t want this—I refuse, I reject, I refute. It’s the song of my mind, playing on repeat; I want to believe it—I want to believe it more than anything else because I have exhausted all of my solutions and the future beyond is veiled in uncertainty.

But with time, I realize that simply wanting something, no matter how much, doesn’t mean it will slip into the world through the cracks of my resolve. And so, I begin to toil over my own fate. I try to shape it. I fail. I try again. It’s a cycle with no end in sight. I wander aimlessly through life, and thus I discover more of myself and I try to understand. Questions assail me; most of the time, there is no answer; when there are, they are often unpleasant. Still, I accept them—because I have learned that closing my eyes and rejecting a reality will not bring me anything. This crushing problem, this anxiety that manipulates me, I try to be aware of it—and in the end, I accept it. She is part of me, too intrinsic for me to surrender her; she welded her existence in my foundations, and if I break free, I negate myself. But what crystallizes with time is the recognition that I’m living a fight that I believed lost before even entering the arena. It’s an intimidating fight: my adversary is formidable, and there is no end in sight; it’s an everlasting battle that occurs every hour, every minute, every second. And yet, I am not done—I gather my arsenal, I warm up, and I entre the arena. No referees—this isn’t a fair fight; there cannot be a winner, only moments of victory. My adversary steps forward, and in her, I see me—me as I was for eight long years. The signal goes off and we begin. No turning back now.

Strangely, what helps me survive the daily fights is time. Throughout this turbulent journey, my wrist undertakes its never-ending recovery. Nine years later, the dreadful pain I felt at every move has become a memory. I live alone now, and getting access to a piano is not always easy; neither is it regular. But one day—one day, I decide to try again. I make my way to my mother’s house on a day where she and her husband are absent; the fragility of my resolve hangs over me, and I cannot let it waver out of self-consciousness. In the basement are all of my mother’s sheet music—all of my sheet music—and it takes a lot of searching before I finally find the last piece I learned when I was 15. The last piece I ever played. Too eager, I snatch Chopin’s Nocturne op.72 no.1 off the floor, grabbing a few more sheet music from that part of my life forever ago. At last, I sit on the piano bench. I open the booklet, flipping through the pages until I find the Nocturne; it’s one of my favourites, whether by coincidence or a design of my own. But it’s with wretched bitterness that I realize I am unable to play the piece. Not only has it been nine years, but my dexterity has vanished, bidding me goodbye with a mocking smile. My fingers each weigh a pound; I hear myself strike the keys with a mortifying clumsiness; the resulting sound is disappointing, closer to chaotic noise than the flowing music of my memories. Nothing happens like I want it to. However, the same passage of time that helped my injury gave me the strength to cross out the word “abandon” from my vocabulary. I sometimes know victory, more often I know defeat, but what has become unfamiliar is capitulation. So I close the booklet, hiding the piece I yearned for, and I pick another one. It’s an easy piece, but in truth, nothing seems easy anymore; the piece is a crutch, a stepping stone towards more. In time, I will get sick of hearing Chopin’s Waltz op.69 no.2, my mind saturated by the melody from months of practice. It’s a challenge, and I start to get obsessed with the notion of learning this piece, because learning it means I can learn more. Nothing will stop me.

There is progress, but it’s slow and it’s tedious. Each week, I ride the bus to my mother’s house so I can practice for one hour, sometimes two. These hours are precious; I try not to squander them and I try even harder to remind myself this is just the beginning. My wrist still hurts at times; whenever I test my limits, a zap of pain echoes through my hand, signalling the end of the practice. It slows me down, frustrates me to no end, but the possibility of not playing for another nice years snaps me out of those low moments. And one day, six months later, I pick up Chopin’s Nocturne op.72 no.1 again. I start with the left hand; the constant rhythm of the triplets played legato rips the stitches of a long-buried wound. A ghost rises out of it—it’s Me as I was, and it possesses me, guiding my hand with its cold touch. I play the first line, then the second; soon enough, I jump to the second page. I am not here, not really; rather, I am lost to that old fragment of beloved peace. Now that I recognize the beast in me as anxiety, I finally understand that those moments of solace happen when I hear the twinkling notes of the piano. And so I get on my feet in the arena and I stand ready to continue the eternal fight. There are other ways to keep anxiety away, to rationalize it, and I think back on my first fifteen years, nearly empty of anguish, full of other pains, but also filled with hours of music. I learn Chopin’s Nocturne in three months. It’s not perfect—it will never be—but I can play it. I play it until I can do so with my eyes closed.

The year I decide to sit at the piano again, I return to school. The first semester is trying; I haven’t studied seriously in over five years—good habits are difficult to unearth. I try to keep my demanding job despite the crushing amount of pressure, but there comes a moment where I cannot breathe under that weight, and stress wins once more. Everything appears ready to crumble before it began. Luckily, my mother realizes that my fragile pyramid of cards is about to fall, and she wakes me up with harsh and well-aimed and true words; we don’t always understand each other then, and feelings get bruised, but in time, things will change for the better. I still fail the classes I took; I search for a new job. My anxiety hit me with an uppercut that could have turned the tables in her favour, but I stand again and again—I stand long enough to finish college a year later. I am 24 the day I hand in my final project that allows me to graduate. As I walk out of the building, there is pride accompanying me, but most of all, it’s a soothing sensation of satisfaction that wraps itself around me. It resembles that peace of mind I find from the piano, and that is what makes me smile.

The next fall, I have my own piano. The opportunity to play whenever is still incredible. Not long before the purchase, the pain in my wrist flares once more, stronger than before. But this time, I know what to expect. I adapt instead of running away; I’m not 15 anymore and I have so much more experience in the suitcase I carry through life. I get tests done in hope of a permanent solution; they reveal nothing new, but the professional advice that follows those tests opens the door to new possibilities to rein in the pain. Those possibilities are comforting in their own way; that absolute sense of defeat is now barely discernable.

I still believe that the Me from over ten years ago will not come back to life; she doesn’t exist anymore; her only vestige is her love for music. But that is alright—I am not the same person I was at 6 years-old when all I knew was the music weaving through the house. I am someone else, so I baptize myself anew. I allow myself the sanctity of a second chance, that unreachable notion always evading me. But this time, I chase it. I grasp it close to my heart. I take it—and I live it.

[starker-stories]

Long Lenses

It’s been awhile since I posted something new & original. This has been sitting forgotten in my WIPs for a bit. Lost it, found it, posting it.

Also on AO3

If you like what I write, may I recommend subscribing to my feed? After having lost my blog to my own idiocy, I kinda have a distrust of tumblr. I’ve had other issues here with things just disappearing for no reason. Plus when tumblr (or I) mess up, anything below a readmore disappears. So AO3 is the best place to read my stuff. It’s ALL there, long or short. 

Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Quentin Beck, May Parker (Spider-Man) Additional Tags: Cheating, College Student Peter Parker, Closeted Character, Arguing, Happy Ending, Manipulation, Closeted Tony Stark, Press and Tabloids, Secret Relationship, Homophobic Language, used only once, Outing, Offscreen Pepper Potts, Cheating isn't Starker

Summary:  “You’d much rather give the world the image of a happily married heterosexual man than to have the world know that you just go through the motions with her and are secretly as gay as I am,” Peter said bitterly. -------------------------------------------------------------------

“Stay,” Peter said, lying in bed still long before dawn on Sunday morning. He watched Tony dress.

“You know I can’t.” Tony made sure that his suit was appropriately rumpled, his shirt pulled out on one side, his tie askew. He took a drink, rinsed his mouth with the strong scotch. Sloshed a little out of the glass onto his shirt to make the picture believable.

“Stay.” Peter reached out his hand. Tony bent over and kissed Peter, who frowned. “I hate it when you smell like that. Almost as much as I hate the way you smell on Saturday afternoon when you get here. I don’t know what’s worse, watching you pretend to be a drunk or having you smell like her.”

“Peter, you knew the terms when you said yes.”

“And I knew the terms when you said you were going to leave her. When’s that gonna happen, huh?”

Tony sighed. “I hate it when you wake up.”

“You’d rather just sneak out and leave me to wake up to an empty bed,” Peter said angrily.

“Look, she knows I go out with friends on Saturday night. She hates it and gives me hell for it, but I’m here every single Saturday. I have ‘business meetings’ scheduled every Wednesday. Which, since she’s still my PA, she knows I don’t.”

“After which you’re always out the door before ten.”

“Peter, if you don’t like it, I just won’t do it anymore, okay?”

“I’m that fucking inconsequential to you?”

“You know that’s not true. I love you.”

“Not enough to leave her.”

“Things are complicated.”

“Of course they are. You’d much rather give the world the image of a happily married heterosexual man than to have the world know that you just go through the motions with her and are secretly as gay as I am,” Peter said bitterly.

Tony sighed and headed for the door. “Whatever Peter.”

Before the door shut, with a tear strained voice, “Will I see you Wednesday?”

His answer was a closed door.

It didn’t stop him from fixing dinner for two after his last class on Wednesday afternoon. Or waiting nervously to see if the door to the apartment Tony paid for would open by Tony’s key. Almost two hours late, it did.

Tony leaned over and gave Peter a peck on the cheek. “Sorry. I tried to get out as soon as I could, but things ran long.”

He always smelled like her on Wednesdays but this time her perfume was stronger than normal. “It’s okay. I just turned the lasagna down when I noticed you were running late.”

Tony sat at the kitchenette table and watched as Peter laid the dinner. “How was class? Professor Martinez still giving you a hard time?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Peter smiled as Tony poured the wine for both of them. “I thought I’d take fifteen hours next semester instead of twelve. Other than physics, the rest is a breeze. I can handle more work.” He paused. “Is that going to be okay? It’s going to cost more.”

“If you think you can handle the course load, you know I have no problem with that, baby. I want you to get whatever you can out of school. Fifteen hours a semester? And if you take summer courses, you can graduate in three years.”

Peter laughed. “One more than it took you.”

“Yeah baby, but I got all my prereqs done while I was in high school. You had to trudge through all that last year.”

“I just didn’t want to take summer classes, that’s all. You mentioned something about a yacht,” Peter said teasingly.

“Yeah, well…”

Peter tried to hide his disappointment. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“It’s just that the press… every time I take the boat out, they’re out there with their long lenses. Fuck, last time they caught me and Pep nude sunbathing with a drone.”

Peter’s lips drew into a sharp line. He’d seen those pictures of course. Nude sunbathing wasn’t the half of what they’d caught. “Summer classes are fine,” he said tersely.

“I’m sorry baby.” Tony reached his hand across the table and took Peter’s in it.

Peter shrugged. “It is what it is, right?”

“I was thinking…” Tony smiled. “I’d take a hell of a hit in the prenup, but if she caught me with another woman… We still couldn’t be public, but as a single man I’d have a lot more time to spend with you.”

Peter brightened. “You’d do that?”

“Pretty sure she already suspects something. It wouldn’t be hard to convince her. To have some ‘well meaning’ friend of hers catch me with a girlfriend and tell her.”

“Then I’d just have to share you with your girlfriend. There’d have to be one, right?”

“Just for show.”

“Why can’t it just be us? No one would care.”

“I still do business in a lot of parts of the world where they do care.”

“I’ll never have you to myself, will I?”

“You’ll always be the only one who I love. Why do we have to fight? I get to see you so little, I hate to spend it fighting.”

Peter smiled. “I can think of much better ways to spend the next two hours.”

~~~~~

It wasn’t difficult to make a device to disguise his voice. Finding a payphone in a New York suburb was harder, but he hacked into the phone company’s computer and got a list of every functional payphone within twenty miles of a train stop. Getting there untraceably was another challenge. But trains were anonymous and cab drivers even more so when you behaved normally without anything odd to set you apart from dozens of other fares. The phone was a lot closer to the train station than he thought, so he decided that after his call, he’d just walk back there. Even more anonymous.

Finding a reporter with a grudge against Tony Stark wasn’t hard at all. Finding one who had the clout to push a controversial story past frightened editors narrowed the field down to one, Quentin Beck.

“Mr. Beck? I’ve got some news about Tony Stark you might be interested in.”

“I doubt it. I’d need sources and those dry up as soon as Stark starts throwing his money around.”

“He’s having an affair.”

“I thought you said news. Everyone knows that he cheats on his wife.”

“With another man?” Peter added.

“You have my attention. That’s a hell of an accusation. I’ll need details and undeniable proof.”

“Details I can give you. Proof, you’ll have to get on your own.”

“Details then,” Beck said tersely.

“They meet every week.”

“How do you know this?”

“I see him go in. I know who lives there.”

“How do you know that he’s not seeing a woman there? Because like I said, that’s no news at all.”

“The women living in that building are either old or with kids,” Peter expected Beck to take the bait sooner than that. He was having to improvise.

“Lotta women with kids screw around.”

“The only man living in that building is a queer. Stark’s gotta be at least twice his age. It’s sick.” It hurt Peter to have to refer to both of them like that, but Beck was still resisting.

“Address?”

Peter gave him the address of the building he lived in. “He’s there every Saturday. I don’t know if there’s any other time. I’ve seen him go in. My shift ends at two and I’ve never seen him come out, so he stays until after that.” There were three different all night businesses on the same block as his apartment. It wasn’t unbelievable that someone in one of them could’ve seen Tony go into his building.

“Who are you? So I can credit you.”

Peter laughed. “I’m not losing my job over this.”

“So you’re just a concerned citizen.”

“Yep. I don’t like perverts passing themselves off as good married men.”

~~~~~

It was easy for Peter to take the intercom in his apartment apart and disconnect the buzzer to let Tony in on Saturday afternoon.

“Something’s wrong with my door thing.” Peter explained as he came down to the door. He was barefoot and wearing shorts so short they were barely covered by the hem of his t-shirt. “I can hear the doorbell ring, but I can’t buzz anyone in. My pizza last night was almost sent back. Fortunately the delivery guy phoned me.” He leaned up and gave Tony a quick peck on the cheek as he shut the glass lobby door behind him.

“Glad to see you’re in a better mood tonight.” Tony smiled and caught Peter by the waist returning his peck with a more substantial kiss.

“I get to have you in my bed all night, of course I’m in a better mood.” Peter smiled, took Tony’s hand and led him up the stairs to his apartment which was over a block of small shops.

There was no arguing, no demands, no pouting. Peter had no idea if Beck actually took his tip seriously or not. But it was a last ditch effort to finally have Tony be his. Tony would never know how Quentin Beck got his information. He was one of the reporters who dogged him ceaselessly and one he hadn’t been able to control. Peter was fairly certain that Tony would believe it was just bad luck and Beck following him trying to get dirt on something else.

Upstairs, Tony took apart Peter’s intercom and found the singed wire he made to look like an ordinary short.

“Thank you. It’s so hard to get the super up to do anything around here. I’m not complaining. It’s a nice apartment, close to school, and right on the subway, so it’s perfect. But you know… they try to get away with doing as little work as possible.”

Tony laughed. “I should buy the building.”

“It’s a little down market for you, don’t you think?”

~~~~~

It was one of the best Saturday nights they’d had in a long time. Especially since Peter pretended to be very hard asleep when Tony got up to leave. He grumbled a little and turned over but then drifted (or seemed to) right back off.

Now all he had to do was wait for the papers. It was probably too late to make it into Sunday’s but Monday morning? Peter didn’t buy a copy. He didn’t want the evidence lying around his apartment. But the library at school had subscriptions to every New York paper. It wasn’t in the paper Beck worked for. Peter was about to give up, disappointed that his scheming came to nothing. Then he saw the tabloid. It didn’t have a byline for Quentin Beck, just ‘staff’. Peter supposed that when his editor shot him down, Beck decided that a paycheck was worth more than a byline.

The pictures were remarkably clear. Peter winced at seeing how clear his face was in addition to Tony’s. He winced harder when he read the article and found out that either Beck or the tabloid’s staff had discovered his name from the apartment’s records. And even worse, they had copies of checks from Tony’s private account that showed he paid Peter’s rent.

He ran home from the school library. There were reporters outside his door. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I forgot my chemistry text. I need to get back before my next class. Why are you here? Let me through! Don’t touch me!” He twisted out of the reporter’s grasp. He was shaking so hard he couldn’t get his key to work. They were shouting questions at him and cameras were going off around him. Three tries later, he was inside the lobby where reporters weren’t allowed to go. He didn’t wait for the elevator but ran up the stairs. He pulled the curtains shut and curled up in the middle of the bed, crying. 

Clearly, he had not thought this through. He had grossly miscalculated and he regretted his decision tremendously. Instead of doing something to assure him of finally having Tony all to himself, he might have driven him away permanently.

Peter sat staring at his phone, hoping Tony would call. It rang often, but he didn’t answer. Tony had a special ringtone. All other calls, even from his friends, he rejected. Tony didn’t call. Peter imagined he was busy trying to put out the fires on his end. After a few hours, he tried to call Tony. It rang once and then went straight to voicemail. He didn’t leave a message. He waited another hour to the same results. The next call, two hours later, he left a voicemail.

“Tony, I’m scared. They’re outside my door. I… I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say. I’m locked in and I’m alone and I don’t know what’s going on.” He was crying. “What happened, Tony? Please call me back. Please. I know… I know things have to be bad for you too. But I’m scared, Tony. I’m scared.” 

Not only might he lose Tony, but his whole life was about to be ruined. If they had the rent checks, they would find other things too. Like his school schedule. Like the fact that Tony was paying his tuition. That he’d set up an account for Peter to pay for groceries and books and other little things. Oh god, they might even find out his aunt’s name and number.

“May? Has anyone… Have you…” Peter was sobbing.

“Peter, what’s going on? I went to work and my friend showed me the paper. You and Tony Stark? Is that true? I know they can make pictures up to look like whatever they want.”

“It’s true. It was a secret. It was supposed to stay a secret. I don’t know how they found out. They’re outside my door. I could barely get into my apartment building.”

“He’s married, Peter. How could you!”

“He said he was going to leave her. He said he loved me.”

May sighed. “Sweetie, they don’t ever leave their wives, you know that. Men like Tony Stark… he buys and sells people like they were nothing.”

“He isn’t like that, May. He… he was going to leave her. He had a plan and everything. It was just going to take time. He loves me and I love him.” He sniffled and tried to stop crying. “Are you okay? They haven’t bothered you, have they?”

“I’ve had some calls but I hung up on them. But no one’s been here at the apartment though. Not like your place. The internet has the story already. I saw your picture trying to get into your building.” She paused. “Is it true he pays for your rent?”

“Y-y-yeah.” He was sniffling again. “And my tuition and everything else.”

“So you don’t have a job like you told me.”

“I used to. When I told you, I was an intern at Stark Industries, that was true. But it only lasted a few months before Tony and I… I’m sorry May. I didn’t want to lie to you, but it had to be a secret. He couldn’t have anyone knowing.” He started crying again. “Now everybody knows. And he isn’t calling me back.”

“Peter, even if everything you said is true, that he loves you and was going to leave his wife, he can’t call you right now. If… I don’t even know how to explain this to you… you’re young. You don’t know what it’s like to be married.”

“Not you and Ben… that never happened between you, did it?” Peter sounded afraid.

“No, no. Neither of us were like that. But you hear about it from friends. There are friends I have at the hospital whose husbands cheated on them. It’s… messy. It’s complicated. And that’s without being famous and the press hounding them all the time. This can’t be easy for his wife. Think about her. I don’t mean to be harsh, sweetie, but you just ruined her life.”

“I’m not the first affair he’s had,” Peter said defensively.

“But you’re the one he got caught with. And the only man.”

“Not even that.”

“Okay. But you’re the one she can’t deny or push under the carpet or pretend she doesn’t know about.”

“I don’t care about her,” Peter said angrily.

“That’s obvious,” May said, with a little anger of her own.

“It’s not my fault.”

“Whose is it? You knew he was married. The whole world knows he’s married. Sure, it took both of you, but you didn’t have to say yes. How long has this been going on?”

“About a year and a half.”

“Peter!”

“We’re in love. He doesn’t love her. He hasn’t loved her for a long time. Even before me.”

“I can believe that man has no morals, but you? I thought…”

“I’m in love with him,” Peter interrupted her. “That’s all I know. I’m in love with him.” Peter was sobbing. “You don’t know him like I do. Nobody does. He’s different when he’s with me.”

“Well, I’m not going to talk to anyone about it. I didn’t know anything and obviously, I still don’t know anything. I thought I knew you but…”

“You do. You just don’t get it. We fell in love. That’s not something you can control.”

“But you can control acting on it. I’m sorry you’re in the mess you’re in, but it’s a mess you made for yourself. You have to think of the other people whose lives you ruined by choosing to sleep with a married man.”

~~~~~

It was after midnight before Tony’s ringtone played on Peter’s phone. “Tony?” he asked hesitantly.

“Yeah baby. I’m so sorry. I should’ve known… I never meant for you to be caught up in this. The damn fucking reporters follow me everywhere.”

“Are you okay?”

“I will be. Like was going to happen with my plan, I’m gonna take a hell of a hit to the pocket by the prenup. She insisted on a cheating clause, knowing my lack of ability to keep it in my pants. But she never would’ve pulled that trigger unless something went public.”

“But you can manage that, right?”

“It’s not gonna send me to the poorhouse, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m not. You know I don’t love you for your money. I hope you do.”

“I know baby. Bad joke. Sorry.”

“Are you still at home?”

“Nope. I mean, it’s still going to be my home once the separation’s over and done with. The building belongs to the company and the company belongs to me. I’ll need to buy out her share of the penthouse, but that’s not a problem. It was just prudent that I be the one to leave right now. Give her time to cool down, let the lawyers hash things out.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d call.” He paused. “Ever.”

“Really? Doubt me that much?”

Peter sighed heavily. “Things don’t usually work out well for the ‘other woman’.”

“Yeah, but the guy usually isn’t in love with the ‘other woman’. I love you.”

“Still? Even though…” He sighed again. “The other woman turned out to be the other man?”

“It’s kind of a relief, actually. I mean, yeah, life is gonna be hard for awhile, but then we can be together.”

“You still want that?”

“You still want me?” Tony asked.

“Yeah, Tony. I’m kind of in love with you.” He paused, twirling the fringe on his bedspread in his fingers. “My aunt kinda hates me.”

“I’m sorry. The whole homewrecker thing?” Tony asked.

“Yeah. She doesn’t understand.”

“It doesn’t help that the papers are… fucking ruthless. But what’s done is done. No putting this genie back in his closet,” he laughed wryly.

“I’m sorry Tony.”

“Not your fault baby. It just never happened before because I never stayed with the same person for more than a few nights. After a year and a half, my habits got picked up on. Traveling to the same place on a regular schedule. Someone was bound to catch me sooner or later.”

“So what’s gonna happen now?” Peter asked.

“Well, I could always have Happy drive by and pick you up to bring you to my suite at the Plaza.”

“What‽”

Tony chuckled. “Not like we have to keep it a secret anymore. Not like the whole world doesn’t know I’m into guys after today’s headlines. Not like she can sue me twice for cheating on her. The only question is how much heat are you willing to bear to be with me. Because it’s gonna get really hot for you, baby. They’re gonna dig out every nasty word in the thesaurus and print them.”

“Do I get to be with you?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Let them print,” Peter said with fierce determination. “I’ll send them a list in case their thesaurus isn’t complete.”

[merinnan]

DMBJ Ep 6

I’ve been a bit behind putting these up on Tumblr, so I’m afraid you’re about to get a dump of the remainder of Season 1, plus the first two eps of Explore with the Note! (not all in one post, of course - 1 ep per post as usual)

So! Episode 6!

The Xiaoge Rescue Count at the start of ep 6 stands at 9 for Wu Xie, 12 for the protagonists, 13 for everyone.

- And we start back with Chengcheng and High Jr. I DON'T CARE ABOUT THIS SUBPLOT, MAKE IT GO AWAY AND BRING BACK XIAOGE AND WU XIE. 

- Why is Chengcheng calling her kidnapper dage? I don't like her or trust her. She is annoying and shady

- Oh, good, now we are back to Wu Xie being a good boy 

- That is a lot of guns and explosives Sanshu has recovered

- I am annoyed at how they all seem to think that A-Ning needs to be shielded from everything unpleasant because she's a girl. She's a goddamn mercenary leader. I think she can take knowing these things - and it's better to let her know as it's found out so that she can adjust to the news properly, instead of springing it on her when it can't be concealed anymore, like what happened when the blood zombie showed up.

- On a completely different tangent, Wu Xie's neck dressing has stayed astonishingly clear for running around in a tomb, crawling through tight tunnels, falling off of ledges and being dramatically rescued, fighting bugs, and fainting all over floors.

- Wu Xie is so sweetly optimistic 

 - LOL, sure Pangzi, you're here for archeological study 

- ....Wu Xie, you are disturbingly knowledgeable about guns for a college student

- Now that I've read the first novel between having watched ep 5 and now, my mind is slightly reeling from how innocent and babie drama Wu Xie is compared to novel Wu Xie 

- Awww. Doesn't matter which Wu Xie it is, babie with gun always looks kinda adorable.

- Also, I appreciate Wu Xie's trigger discipline. So often shows have such terrible trigger discipline. 

- Oooh, it's like a carved thing on the dais that got his attention. I thought it was like a computer drive or something at first, because it looked kinda like that.

- OH NO, THE LIVING VINES ARE HERE AND SNEAKING UP ON THEM 

- ...and pushing the button made them retreat 

- ...phew? 

- I am still concerned 

- The music signifies that something creepy is coming 

- lol, babie. Looking so innocent even though He Knows What He Did

- I don't know what that sound is, but that's not a good sound 

- ...earthquake? That's a bad thing to happen when you're in the middle of an evil cave. 

- WU FAMILY, WHY ARE YOU THE ONLY ONES TRYING TO STAY ON YOUR FEET WITHOUT HOLDING ONTO ANYTHING?! 

- So fucking stubborn

- This is where Wu Xie gets it from, if Erbai is wondering 

- A-Ning is the smartest one, staying sitting down 

- The tree opens up like a fucking security vault and ejects a coffin. Because of course if fucking does. 

- Oooh, yeah, that's that shot from the opening credits 

- "I can't read any of this, but it says this is the guy we're looking for" 

- "His story recorded here is the same as what we know" WU XIE YOU JUST SAID YOU CAN'T READ IT

- Come on. Earlier in the show you said "yes I can read this" and read it. And in the novel, you puzzle it out from being able to read bits. This part, you flat out said he couldn't read it, and now are telling everyone what it says 

 - I love continuity, but dramas really don't

- The music now is similar enough to the Harry Potter music that I almost expect an owl to go flying past 

- The owner of a coffin wanting the coffin to be opened hundreds or thousands of years later seems like it should be something more worrying than how everyone is reacting

- I wanna know how Sanshu knows the coffin has been there for 3000 years. Wu Xie can't read the dates on it, and the Warring States Period was 1500 years ago, not 3000 

- JESUS CHRIST, SANSHU, YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE THE SENSIBLE ONE!

- Why are you suggesting you open the chained shut coffin in order to see if there's somehow something alive (or alive-ish) in there? 

- Awwww! Wu Xie going "no, don't do that, Pokerface told us not to touch anything"

- Like. Not, "no uncle, that seems like a bad idea" 

- But "Xiaoge told us not to, and we should do what he says" 

- I have the feeling that if this Pangzi is agreeing with something, then you all should not be doing that thing. Because this version of Pangzi is an idiot

- HOW THE FUCK IS THE MOVING COFFIN GOING TO SECRETLY HAVE THE EXIT INSIDE IT, PANGZI 

- THAT MAKES THE LEAST SENSE OUT OF EVERYTHING SO FAR 

- Pan Zi's "WTF do you think you're doing" look

- This Pangzi is so bad 

- I even like Chengcheng better than him. And I wish they had taken her into the tomb and used her as bait. 

- I'm glad he's better in other adaptations. Like, I love the Pangzi in Chongqi. I am so glad that he was my intro to Pangzi, not this one

- DON'T MAKE THE BABIE SAD BY BEING DUMB

- A-Ning really should not be just standing there with her leg injury. I've had a muscle biopsy before where they took it from the thigh, which is a similar 'injury' to what she's got, and you do not get on your feet unless you absolutely have to for days afterwards.

- At least they have her limp when she's walking, and it's kinda sad that I'm glad they do that! 

- And Pan Zi should not be doing hard physical labour with a fucking gut wound

- But I think I'm more annoyed by A-Ning, because I have personal experience with her kind of injury so know first-hand what kind of pain she's causing herself by standing and walking 

- HUMAN BRAIN LOGIC GO

- Pangzi you fucking dick, just standing there watching. You should be pushing instead of Pan Zi 

- Hahahah, after all his shittalk and boasting, and he can't do it 

- Oh, there, finally

- I know that inside lid is supposed to be jade, but it looks so terribly fake. Oh my god. It's awful 

- It looks like a bad Photoshop of one of those Windows 98 default backgrounds

- I love the looks everyone gives Pangzi every time he slips up and talks about getting money from the stuff in the tomb 

- LOL, that's not a carving, that's a couple of translucent green plastic discs stuck on top of Windows Background Photoshop cover

- ...I'm kinda waiting for someone to suddenly shout BOO! really loudly while they're all carefully trying to listen for any sounds in the coffin

- They're almost at the end of the first novel in terms of plot, and there's still 4 and a half eps to go

- Wow, I think that's the first time I've seen Sanshu actually worried 

- lol, and now Pangzi says he believes him, rather than get his ear that close to the coffin himself 

- PANGZI DON'T STARTLE SOMEONE WHO HAS THEIR FINGER ON THE TRIGGER OF A GUN & DEFINITELY DON'T SMACK THE GUN

- Wu Xie has a lot of control to have not accidentally shot right then

- LOL, after all their declarations how they're archaeologists, not tomb robbers, & how they're here to protect cultural artefacts from robbers, etc - they go make references to the northern and southern schools of tomb raiding

- Just without actually saying exactly what the 'Southern School' being referred to actually is. 

- ....and now Pangzi jumps in front of the pointed gun as he grabs it. Do you have a fucking death wish, dude? 

 - And now we see the infamous bronze armour! Jade armour. Whatever

- You'd think they'd have learned to fucking take all of A-Ning's guns away from her after last time she held one of them at gunpoint 

- OMG, the face on the helmet is so fucking ridiculous, I can't - It's not even properly positioned over his face

- Aaaaah, Sanshu called him tianzhen  I'm so happy at being able to identify that word now it's ridiclous 

- That...that is not what peeled skin looks like 

- Pangzi comes right out and admits he's a tomb robber 

- And for the first time, no-one calls him on it

- Or correct him for calling them tomb robbers 

- Ah, there you are, Xiaoge. I was wondering how long it would take for you to be back 

- I see looking for people in a tomb requires no shirt XD

- Better shots of shirtless Xiaoge

- Like, same, Wu Xie. Same.

- Look, I have two braincells, and one is for Xiaoge and one is for pingxie

- YOU ACTING LIKE THIS IS WHY YOU DON'T HAVE ANY FRIENDS, PANGZI

 - Oooh, this is a goood shot of the tattoo. And of who the tattoo is on

- I don't have a Xiaoge problem. It's the opposite of a problem.

- Seriously, Pangzi is so fucking lucky that Xiaoge didn't kill him a dozen times over during their first meetings here

- Also, now that Xiaoge has explained why he threw a knife at Pangzi, I believe it's time to update the Xiaoge Rescue Count to 9 for Wu Xie, 13 for the protagonists, 14 for everyone.

- Although maybe I should have also been keeping a People Eyerolling At Pangzi Count given how often it's been happening

- More Xiaoge pics, feat. emotions that are not 'worrying about Wu Xie'

- Also, did he throw the corpse off the platform after he broke it's neck, or did it yeet itself off somehow? 

- I mean, I too wanna know how Xiaoge knows all this stuff if this was all put here 3000 years ago

- I do love that Wu Xie is already about the only person who Xiaoge will actually look at instead of staring down or straight ahead

- LOL, Wu Xie won't even let Pangzi so much as touch this. 

- I honestly appreciate that Xiaoge appears to travel lightly enough that he doesn't have a spare shirt

- EVERYTHING makes Wu Xie better than everyone else (except Xiaoge), Pangzi

- lol, Sanshu, yes. You tell him. 

- Hahahah, and Wu Xie playing along with Sanshu, the little adorable shit 

 - THE LOOK ON HIS FACE 

- KJFDHKJDAFHFKASDJHFKJASDLHGFSKLJ 

- AND DON'T THINK I DON'T SEE THAT SMIRK, WU XIE 

- There is absolutely not enough of little shit!Wu Xie in S1

- Loooool, his little nod at Sanshu now that they got their way and made Pangzi promise to stfu for the time being 

- And that is the first time I've seen that style of carriage roll like a car 

- Those skull ballistae were a cool aesthetic, though

- THAT CARRIAGE WAS ROLLING LIKE A FUCKING CAR, HOW IS IT BACK UPRIGHT AND ROLLING ALONG THE GROUND TO THE CLIFF 

- HOW TF IS IT ROLLING ANYWHERE WITH A SMASHED WHEEL 

- HOW TF IS HE ABLE TO HOLD IT FOR EVEN A SECOND, ESPECIALLY WITH ONE HAND

- A thin as fuck flagpole is going to give you jack shit in terms of something to brace with when it comes to that much weight 

- THE SCRIPTWRITER OF THIS SCENE IS BAD AND SHOULD FEEL BAD 

- *cries in physics minor*

- I can suspend disbelief for aliens, zombies, everything about Xiaoge, logic holes, and plot pits. Apparently my line is a non-cultivator breaking the laws of physics. 

- Aaaah, here come the zombies 

- So this dude is not the zombie dude 

- He is the emperor, I think?

- OH MY GOD THAT GREENSCREEN IS JUST THE WORST 

- I thought the one on the river was bad. The one of her falling as he dives off the cliff to save her is actively painful 

- Oh, now it looks like we're gonna have a dumb love triangle in the flashback. Yay. *waves tiny flag*

- Bitch, be a bit more grateful. Yes, your ex-lover caught you as you were falling & did so by basically flying, but that's just standard wuxia defiance of physics. Your husband held a FUCKING CARRIAGE with ONE HAND for AT LEAST TWO WHOLE MINUTES to keep you alive before your ex finally showed up

- "Were you really frightened?" Your majesty, what kind of a stupid question is that? 

- The emperor's armour is really pretty, I gotta say 

- Uuuugh, this stupid love story hurts in a bad way 

- I'm just gonna fast forward through it 

- ...and there's the end of the episode.

- That love triangle is going to make me scream, I know it 

- But that does explain how they're going to pad out the episodes a bit more with how far through the plot they are already 

- None of them are even really that pretty to make up for the boring, trite, love triangle plot

- How do they expect to keep my attention through it if I don't even have eye candy?!?! 

- I will be seriously headdesking if this flashback goes on for more than the next ep! 

- Oh well, there we are. The end of ep 6

The Xiaoge Rescue Count at the end of ep 6 stands at 9 for Wu Xie, 13 for the protagonists, 14 for everyone. 

[sometipsygnostalgic]

It’s been a long decade

This time 10 years ago, I was 14, sneaking onto my brother’s computer, waiting for the new year with @alphahas and a bunch of others on the Roblox forums. 

That doesn’t begin to express how much my life has changed this decade, but for some reason, it’s one of the most memorable parts. 

In 2010 - I gained my first drop of internet fame making DBZ-themed Roblox clothing, dropped out of school for 3 months leading up to the summer holidays, bingeread all the Twilight books, decided that my education was more important than my feelings about getting bullied, went back into school, got my first Xbox and Laptop, and began playing on Xbox Live 6 hours a day. 

In 2011 - I ditched Twilight for Discworld, made some new school friends for the first time in my life, played a LOT of Left 4 Dead 2 with my sister, got my heart broken by Modern Warfare 3, and at the end of the year, I moved in with my dad and his fiance for the first time - moving from a shitty, overcrowded, unclean house into a strict environment  where yes I do have to shower every day, and yes I do eat proper food with actual utensils rather than used paper plates.  

In 2012 - My dad and his fiance split up and kicked me back down to my mother’s house just before my GCSEs began, and I was obviously very unhappy about this, so I decided to bingewatch Adventure Time across the 3 weeks they took place. Fortunately my GCSEs survived the fallout. I became inspired to draw Adventure Time art, massively improved my digital art style within the space of a couple months, and opened my first tumblr blog dedicated to analysing Adventure Time. 

In 2013 - My blog kicked off, I was making plenty of friends during my A-levels, and I was deeply enjoying school for the first time ever. On top of this, my dad finally got a place of his own and invited me to live with him. I’m still living with him now and the quality of life is much better, everything is much cleaner, we have actual heating, I’m actually clean, I had a stable food source, I cannot describe how much the change benefitted my life.  Even if he is an unstable moody bastard. Oh, also, I read Homestuck.  

In 2014 - I got really fit at the start of the year going to gym 3 times a week, then I studied AMERICAN POLITICS in A-level (which 2 years later I’d deeply regret). I did better in my A-levels this year than the previous year, so evened out to B’s all round. It might have been better if my good sociology teacher didn’t get sacked for accidentally sabotaging every health and social care student...  Applied for university and got a placement in the best uni in Wales. Started Uni. Had tons of money for first time. Got fat very quickly, RIP my weight. Got depressed and lonely in Halls. Hated politics classmates. At the end of the year I deleted my Adventure Time blog, and.... started getting really into Homestuck. 

In 2015 - Opened up this blog (hello it’s been 5 fucking years!!!), slouched off in university, became a massive Terezi stan, drew lots of Homestuck comics. I ate a tons of Quiche as well. It was okay. I’m going to be honest, other than this blog taking off not a lot of interesting things happened to me in 2015.  However, Undertale came out this year, so that was cool.  

In 2016 - Found Dad increasingly difficult to live with as he was getting frustrated with... everything about me, for some reason. It sucked. Brexit happened, the US election happened, Homestuck Act 7 happened, Hiveswap went off the map. I don’t remember much about this year and I’m glad for it because I was not happy. I think this is when I joined the Homestuck Reddit though/ 

In 2017 - Graduated University!!!! Volunteered in a charity shop for a few months whilst looking for a job, did 5 weeks of crappy work experience in a job centre. What else happened this year? I’m sure it was a lot of things but really I can’t remember. Got myself a Nintendo Switch. Became a permanent member of the Homestuck Discord. 

In 2018 - I secured myself a job! Hooray!!!! This alleviated the tensions with my dad, because he was happy that I was finally working. We’ve been on good terms since. As irritating as working in customer service for 8 hours a day can be, I liked that I was doing something all the time and the year could be a memorable one for that reason, rather than fading away like the previous 3 years had. The year was capped off by Deltarune, and being given a fuckton of wine by work contractors. 

In 2019 - A lot of terrible videogames came out earlier this year but it was mitigated by the release of DMC5, which must be cherished by all. I was put on short-time in January after the first Reckoning, then I got my full hours back in March when given a new role. Then our main client went into administration, and the OMEGA-Reckoning happened and everybody else in my tier lost their jobs with me as the sole survivor. We had no wine this year either, which is the saddest thing honestly. Later in the year I started taking up driving lessons, and I’m hoping that I’ll be able to drive by spring, though my instructor thinks that is too optimistic. I’ve found driving tough because of how my brain works; I can only concentrate on one thing at a time, so when I’m doing something right I’m usually doing something else wrong.   

What am I doing today - Sitting here playing Persona Q2 and humming the new Pokemon OP to myself because it is catchy. I will probably open the champaigne soon. 

From 10 years ago I’ve grown significantly. It’s almost like I experienced my teen years later, because I was so stunted from how I lived. I feel like it’s only now I’m reaching the maturity level, and degree of self respect, to call myself an adult. I’ve always struggled with relating to people offline as well, but... I’m growing okay with that. Who needs other people anyway? They just bring in drama. If I’m comfortable being by myself, there’s nothing wrong with that.  

[motherfucker-somewhat-limited]

1: Name

Sarah

2: Age

23

3: Fears

Everything, I have anxiety

4: 3 things I love

Dogs, weird movies, sunsets over water

5: 4 turns on

Long hair, facial piercings, good sense of humor, back muscles

6: 4 turns off

Poor hygiene, rude to service workers, adults who are still obsessed with Disney to the point where they make it a personality trait, Trump supporters (or the equivalent in other countries)

7: My best friend

@wanderingwondererofthings

8: Sexual orientation

Bi? I think? IDK not straight tho

9: My best first date

I’ve only ever been on one date in my life and the dude ghosted me afterward which turned out to be a blessing bc it was not a good time in my life to try to start a relationship

10: How tall am I

5′2″

11: What do I miss

Mental stability

12: What time were I born

3:45 am or thereabouts

13: Favourite color

black

14: Do I have a crush

celebrity crushes but I don’t really count those

15: Favourite quote

uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

16: Favourite place

bundled up under a heap of blankets by myself in a dark room with good snacks and a good book/movie

17: Favourite food

chocolate

18: Do I use sarcasm

do i

19: What am I listening to right now

my housemate doing laundry

20: First thing I notice in new person

what they’re wearing

21: Shoe size

womens 7

22: Eye color

brown

23: Hair color

brown

24: Favourite style of clothing

love that goth shit

25: Ever done a prank call?

not that i can remember

26: Meaning behind my URL

adam darski’s true form

27: Favourite movie

Ink (2009) dir. jamin winans

28: Favourite song

UHHHHHHHHHHH

29: Favourite band

Eluveitie

30: How I feel right now

like shit lol

31: Someone I love

My friends

32: My current relationship status

single

33: My relationship with my parents

it’s good and i’m very grateful

34: Favourite holiday

the day after halloween when all the candy goes on sale

35: Tattoos and piercing I have

none

36: Tattoos and piercings I want

seriously considering getting my eyebrow pierced soon. if I ever cut my hair short i’ll pierce my ears

37: The reason I joined Tumblr

to follow an art blog that made amazing JTHM fan art

38: Do I and my last ex hate each other?

what ex

39: Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts?

yeah from my mom

40: Have I ever kissed the last person you texted?

yeah it was my mom

41: When did I last hold hands?

yesterday with my grandma

42: How long does it take me to get ready in the morning?

takes me well over an hour to actually get up but then like 3o minutes tops

43: Have You shaved your legs in the past three days?

no

44: Where am I right now?

in my room

45: If I were drunk & can’t stand, who’s taking care of me?

i’ve never been that drunk because i hate hangovers

46: Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level?

reasonable level unless i’m at a concert

47: Do I live with my Mom and Dad?

not anymore

48: Am I excited for anything?

sexy eggman is coming to san francisco

49: Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to?

no

50: How often do I wear a fake smile?

basically whenever i have to talk to strangers

51: When was the last time I hugged someone?

yesterday

52: What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me?

my mom is allowed to kiss other people it’s okay

53: Is there anyone I trust even though I should not?

i don’t think so?

54: What is something I disliked about today?

i’m tired of being tired

55: If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

my soulmate

56: What do I think about most?

spirals of existential dread

57: What’s my strangest talent?

I have no talents lol

58: Do I have any strange phobias?

going down stairs. i’m fine going up them but going down them freaks me out

59: Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

depends on my mood and whether or not i’m ugly that day

60: What was the last lie I told?

“I’m okay”

61: Do I prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online?

In person or don’t fucking talk to me

62: Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens?

yes and yes

63: Do I believe in magic?

idk. i believe there’s things that happen that we can’t explain yet so maybe that’s magic

64: Do I believe in luck?

i believe in good chances

65: What’s the weather like right now?

dark

66: What was the last book I’ve read?

The Habitation of the Blessed by Catherynne Valente

67: Do I like the smell of gasoline?

yes as long as i don’t have a headache or stomachache

68: Do I have any nicknames?

just dumb shit my mom calls me

69: What was the worst injury I’ve ever had?

worst acute injury was the time i tripped onto an outdoor heater in kindergarten and burned the shit out of my hand. i also have a stress fracture in my spine that will never heal from gymnastics but that happened over a matter of years

70: Do I spend money or save it?

i try to save but i spend a little too much

71: Can I touch my nose with a tounge?

with a tongue? yes. with my tongue? no

72: Is there anything pink in 10 feet from me?

my fluffy pillow

73: Favourite animal?

take a wild fucking guess

74: What was I doing last night at 12 AM?

trying unsuccessfully to sleep

75: What do I think is Satan’s last name is?

Columbus

76: What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it?

That Time of the Month by Harley Poe

77: How can you win my heart?

be a dog

78: What would I want to be written on my tombstone?

ceci n’est pas un corps

79: What is my favorite word?

sussuration or cathedral

80: My top 5 blogs on tumblr

this is the internet equivalent of the judgment of paris

81: If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say?

eat the rich

82: Do I have any relatives in jail?

not currently

83: I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice! What is that power?

shapeshifting bitch

84: What would be a question I’d be afraid to tell the truth on?

i’ll say anything on the internet i don’t give a shit

85: What is my current desktop picture?

86: Had sex?

no

87: Bought condoms?

no

88: Gotten pregnant?

no

89: Failed a class?

yeah, fuck ochem

90: Kissed a boy?

no

91: Kissed a girl?

 no

92: Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain?

no

93: Had job?

i’ve got one right now

94: Left the house without my wallet?

yeah lol

95: Bullied someone on the internet?

no

96: Had sex in public?

no

97: Played on a sports team?

i ran track for a couple years as a kid

98: Smoked weed?

yup

99: Did drugs?

no

100: Smoked cigarettes?

ew no

101: Drank alcohol?

yuppers

102: Am I a vegetarian/vegan?

no

103: Been overweight?

no

104: Been underweight?

yes

105: Been to a wedding?

yes

106: Been on the computer for 5 hours straight?

only 5?

107: Watched TV for 5 hours straight?

only 5??

108: Been outside my home country?

yes

109: Gotten my heart broken?

yes but not romantically

110: Been to a professional sports game?

many

111: Broken a bone?

nope

112: Cut myself?

not on purpose

113: Been to prom?

yeah and it sucked and i wish i hadn’t gone

114: Been in airplane?

yes

115: Fly by helicopter?

no but I want to

116: What concerts have I been to?

a multitude

117: Had a crush on someone of the same sex?

yeah lol

118: Learned another language?

can I give this one a half a yes?

119: Wore make up?

yup

120: Lost my virginity before I was 18?

no

121: Had oral sex?

no

122: Dyed my hair?

yes

123: Voted in a presidential election?

yes

124: Rode in an ambulance?

no

125: Had a surgery?

do wisdom teeth count?

126: Met someone famous?

yup, holla atcha doug jones

127: Stalked someone on a social network?

no, i don’t care that much

128: Peed outside?

who hasn’t?

129: Been fishing?

no

130: Helped with charity?

i’ve donated some money

131: Been rejected by a crush?

yeah but a) I never actually asked him out, b) we were 12, and c) turns out he’s gay so like i’m not made about it

132: Broken a mirror?

no

133: What do I want for birthday?

a new laptop

134: How many kids do I want and what will be their names?

why would i want kids

135: Was I named after anyone?

my great uncle and great grandmother

136: Do I like my handwriting?

i have no opinion on it

137: What was my favourite toy as a child?

legos or something similar you can build with

138: Favourite Tv Show?

UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

139: Where do I want to live when older?

somewhere near the ocean

140: Play any musical instrument?

i wish

141: One of my scars, how did I get it?

i only have acne scars and those are pretty self-explanatory

142: Favourite pizza toping?

sausage, bell pepper, and onion

143: Am I afraid of the dark?

no

144: Am I afraid of heights?

sometimes

145: Have I ever got caught sneaking out or doing anything bad?

no, i’m a good girl

146: Have I ever tried my hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end

yeah, FUCK OCHEM

147: What I’m really bad at

being a functioning human adult person

148: What my greatest achievments are

not killing myself in college

149: The meanest thing somebody has ever said to me

idk man i get upset by everything even when it’s not mean

150: What I’d do if I won in a lottery

pay off my friends’ and family’s debts, set aside a big chunk of money for grad school, maybe get my own place depending on how much is left

151: What do I like about myself

i have nice hair

152: My closest Tumblr friend

idk

153: Something I fantasise about

what don’t i fantasize about

154: Any thoughts on the paranormal?

hey demons come and get y’all juice

[dimensionhoppingrose]

In My Veins (14/?)

Title: In My Veins Rating: K+ Pairing: Ten/Rose, human AU Summary: –Telepathic bond soulmate AU– Everyone kept saying kids couldn’t develop telepathic bonds, that it was completely impossible. John Smith and Rose Tyler defied the impossible.

Notes: Well I finally managed to hash out a soulmate AU enough to be happy with writing it. All the blame for this entire story goes to @lastbluetardis​, who not only encouraged it, but also allowed me to yell at her about it until I was happy enough to start writing it. Blame her entirely.

Read it on A03

Catch up on Tumblr

“You’re falling asleep.”

“Am nooooooot.”

“Are toooooooooooo,” John teased, laughing as Rose sleepily stuck her tongue out at him. They were on Skype again, mostly just watching each other and smiling stupidly. They’d spent so long silently communicating, words seemed unnecessary.

And now Rose was falling asleep. John could feel that she was tired, and of course he wasn’t going to keep her awake. But it was fun to tease her.

“Am…” Rose yawned widely, burying her face in her arms, “not.”

John grinned, lying back in his bed as he began singing quietly. Rose was tired. She needed to sleep.

“Not faaaaaaaaair,” Rose whined. John shushed her and continued singing. It only took Rose a few minutes to fall asleep. John grinned as he felt her peace wash through his mind.

Watching and feeling her sleep was honestly one of the best things. John couldn’t wait for the day he could do it in person.

* * * * * * * *

“I want to visit John.”

Pete and Jackie sighed, exchanging looks. They’d been having this fight off and on with Rose since the dinner a few weeks earlier. “Rose, we told you, we don’t think it’s a good idea,” Pete said patiently. “It’s not appropriate.”

“I don’t care,” Rose said stubbornly. “And why is it so inappropriate anyways? He’s only two years older than me, and we’d just be hanging out.”

“And you would be spending the night in his dorm, alone. That’s not okay.”

“Only to you! Literally no one else would care, and if they did what does it matter? You’re the one who keeps saying it doesn’t matter what other people think! Or is that just something you say to make me eat?”

“Rose, we said no, and that’s final,” Jackie cut in, frustrated. She was tired of fighting with her daughter. Rose scowled.

“Fine. Fine.”

She turned and stormed back upstairs. Please stop thinking that, John said quietly.

You don’t know what I’m thinking. The silence that followed those words was amazingly judgmental. Yeah, okay, fine. You know what I’m thinking.

If you sneak out they’re going to be angry. They already hate me. They’ll probably think I talked you into running away.

I’m not running away. I just want to see you. I don’t understand why they’re being such jerks about it.

Yeah… I know. Even John had to admit he was frustrated with Jackie and Pete Tyler. He understood they loved Rose.

He just wished they could see that he did as well.

I’m doing it, Rose said, determined. Next weekend. I’m coming to see you.

No talking you out of this, I’m guessing?

Nope.

* * * * * * * *

In the end, Rose decided to skip school on Friday. John only had one class, so they could spend plenty of time together before Rose’s parents realized she was missing and came after her.

“What if they call police?” John asked as he picked Rose up outside of her school. She grinned as she bounced into the car.

“They won’t. That would be a huge scandal.”

And with that she threw herself across the console and hugged John tight. He grinned despite his misgivings, hugging her back.

“I missed you,” he murmured, Rose’s heart swelled.

“I missed you too.”

They went back to campus, and Rose hung out in John’s room while he went to his class. His room was a mess, of course. He’d always struck her as the kind of person who didn’t know how to keep a space clean.

“Hey!” John said as he walked back into the room an hour later. “How’s — did you clean my room?”

“Yes, it was a disaster,” Rose teased. John blushed, ducking his head.

“Yeah, well…” He rubbed the back of his head, smiling sheepishly. “Come on. Let’s get something to eat.”

They went to the campus cafeteria, Rose bouncing along excitedly and holding John’s hand. It was so nice to be away from her parents and to feel like she had a choice in something she did. So much of her time was scheduled, sometimes it felt like she never had time for herself.

“John!”

They had just finished getting food when the voice called across the cafeteria, and they turned to see a red-headed young woman waving John down. “Hey Donna!” John said brightly, leading Rose toward the table the woman had commandeered. Rose instantly hunched up, trying not to be too nervous. She knew John had made a few friends, and some of them were women. That was okay. He loved Rose. It was okay.

John took Rose’s hand, clearly sensing her insecurity, and she smiled a bit. “Wait,” the woman said, clearly stunned. “Is this your girlfriend? Are you his girlfriend? You’re real?”

“Oi!” John griped as Rose giggled.

“Seriously, blink twice if you’re here against your will.”

John rolled his eyes, sitting, and Rose set down her food to properly introduce herself to John’s friend. “I’m Rose,” she said with a small smile. “And no, I’m not here against my will.”

“Are you sure?” John glared at the woman, and she grinned. “I’m Donna. Nice to meet you. I have to admit, I was kind of worried John was making you up.”

You talk about me? Rose asked, a bit surprised. John ducked his head, blushing a little.

I have a picture of you in my wallet. Donna saw it once and kind of thought I was crazy stalker person.

Rose couldn’t stop herself from giggling. Her amusement covered up the shock of John having a picture of her that he carried around.

Unsurprisingly, Rose got a few strange looks. The sight of the Vitex heiress casually eating lunch with a strange boy was enough to turn heads. Rose just sat closer to John, keeping her head down and focusing on John, Donna, and her food. Donna didn’t seem to realize Rose was the Vitex heiress, or she just didn’t care. Either way, it never came up and Rose was grateful. It was nice to just pretend she was normal for a little bit.

“So are you spending the weekend?” Donna asked. Rose ducked her head, staring at her food.

“No. Just the day.” Or at least until her parents realized she was missing and stormed the campus looking for her. She really wasn’t looking forward to that. Part of her felt like she should have thought this through better.

But she had wanted to see John.

They finished eating, and Donna had to run off to class, leaving them alone. “Wanna walk a bit?” John asked. “I can show you around campus.”

“Sure.” Rose grinned, and they headed back out onto campus. It really was gorgeous. Rose was kind of jealous that John got to live here and see it every day. “It’s so pretty,” she said, looking around.

“I bet you could get in here, if you wanted,” John said, and Rose laughed.

“No way, you have to be brilliant to get in.”

“You are brilliant,” John insisted. “I’ve been tutoring you for years.”

Rose smiled a bit, nudging him with her elbow. “I don’t even know what I want to go to school for,” she admitted after a moment. “Is that bad?”

“Not really. I mean, I didn’t know either, I enrolled undecided.” John shrugged. “I didn’t declare a major until my first week.”

“Yeah but you’re smart. You’re good at things.” John could have chosen any major and probably excelled at it. If he’d gone into art, he easily would have graduated top of his class and probably become a famous artist. He was good at everything.

“I am not.” John, of course, heard the thoughts going through Rose’s head. “And you’re good at plenty of stuff too.”

“Like what?”

“Music.” The answer was instant and without hesitation. “You’re a brilliant musician.”

“I’m alright…” Rose blushed a bit, ducking her head. She’d sort of slipped away from music in the last few months, with everything that had been going on. She missed it, though. Just the thought of playing again made her fingers itch, and she moved her free fingers as if she were preparing to play. John saw that, and felt her desire, and smiled.

“You could study music. You would be amazing.”

“I don’t know…”

John squeezed her hand, and she smiled a bit. “You’ve still got time. You don’t need to make a decision right this very minute. I’m just saying, there’s a lot you can do.”

“Well, there’s one option, anyways.”

“But it’s an option you like.”

Rose couldn’t argue with that. They finished their tour and went back to John’s dorm, settling down on his bed to watch a movie. Rose snuggled into John’s side, smiling peacefully. She could feel his content with the situation feeding into her own.

It was lovely.

“I love you,” John said quietly, and Rose felt her heart skip a beat. It was the first time either of them had said the words out loud.

Actually hearing them made her feel giddy.

“I love you too.” Rose grinned when she felt John’s elation, like a silent squeal, in her mind. “Dork.”

John laughed.

Rose ended up falling asleep, and John instantly forgot the movie in favor of just watching her sleep. It was even more beautiful without the computer screen between them. Seeing her so peaceful was just… wonderful.

He dared to drop a kiss to the top of her head, smiling when she shifted and her hair tickled his nose.

God, he loved her so much.

The movie was just ending when Rose’s mobile rang, waking her up. She groaned, reaching for it, and groaned again when she saw the caller ID.

“Dad.” John’s stomach dropped as she answered. “Hi Dad—” She was instantly cut off by Pete yelling. John couldn’t quite make out the words, but he could hear the tone. Pete was angry. “I’m sorry, I—” More yelling. “No, you don’t have to send — please don’t — Dad — okay, okay.”

Rose sighed as she hung up. “Dad’s sending a car to get me.” It hadn’t been hard for him to figure out where she was. Where else would Rose skip school and go?

“Well at least now your parents have a reason to hate me,” John muttered, and Rose smiled weakly.

They sat outside John’s building, waiting for the car and holding hands the entire time. They didn’t say much. They didn’t have to. It was a nice, comfortable silence. And Rose never wanted it to end.

But of course, it did. The car came, and John pulled Rose into a hug, holding on for longer than what was absolutely necessary. This could very well be the last time he got to hold her until she turned eighteen, and he wanted to make the most of it.

“I love you,” he whispered again, and Rose smiled into his neck.

“I love you too.”

* * * * * * * *

“What in the world were you thinking?!”

Pete and Jackie were furious. Rose had seen it coming, had prepared to deal with it, but she didn’t care. “I asked you permission,” she pointed out. “Over and over and over. You said no.”

“We said no for a reason, Rose!”

“Because you don’t like him!”

“That has nothing to do with it!” Pete said angrily.

“Like hell it doesn’t!”

“Why we say no doesn’t matter,” Jackie cut in. “What matters is that we said no, and you still disobeyed us—”

“You can’t control me forever. I’m not a little kid anymore!”

“We just want what’s best for you—”

“You don’t know what’s best for me!” Rose half-yelled. “You don’t know anything about me! You never have! I almost starved to death and you never even noticed! And who told you about it? John did! John cut school and took a bus out here just to tell you what you could have seen if you’d just paid attention! You have no clue what’s best for me!”

Jackie and Pete were both silent for a moment. Rose knew she had gone too far, but she didn’t care. She was so tired of fighting her parents just because they didn’t like John. She didn’t even care why they didn’t like John anymore. None of it made sense to her. He had never done anything wrong.

“We can continue this conversation later,” Pete finally said stiffly. “Go to your room. You’re grounded.”

“Fine.” Rose turned on her heel and stormed upstairs, slamming her bedroom door as soon as she was inside.

I think you went too far, John said quietly.

I don’t care. I don’t care.

The stunned, hurt look on her parents’ faces was still burned into her mind, though. Okay, maybe she cared a little.

Rose… John sounded hesitant. I don’t want you to ruin your relationship with your parents just because of me. They’re your family.

And you’re my soulmate. You’re just as important as they are.

But they’re still your parents, and they’re important.

Rose sighed, flopping into bed and burying her face in her pillow. Yeah. I know.

That didn’t make any of this any easier, though.

* * * * * * * *

What the hell are you doing?

John had been quiet most of the morning, and Rose had figured he was busy. She’d spent the time focused on her flute, breaking it out, cleaning it, and beginning to play. It felt nice to play again.

She was taking a break when she heard the doorbell rang, and she realized who was at the door. I want to talk to your parents, John said. Alone. Keep playing. It’s nice.

Rose sighed, looking down at her flute. She was desperate to go downstairs and see what was happening. But she really didn’t need to. She could watch the entire thing without leaving her room.

[supersodapop]

tagged by @pacificprincen

Name: Tammy

Nicknames: Kaiso, Kai, Soda,  and whatever anyone else tends to call me tbh

Gender: Female

star sign: v-virgo?

height: 5′7″

Time: 8:42 PM CST (it totally was when I typed this)

birthday: do you remember? the 21st night of September????

favorite bands: Imagine Dragons i guess

favorite solo artists: uhhhhhhh uhhhhhhhhh hmmmmmmmm Utada i guess??

song stuck in my head: that new MHA opening song haha - by Uverworld or w/e? ODD FUTURE? I think?

last movie I watched: In this Corner of the World

last show I watched:  The Flash

when did i create my blog: archives say 2011

what do I post: fandom shit???? my cat???? and an occasionally rare Original Post™

last thing I googled: school counseling masters program - which I learned more about and proceeded to cry about

do I have other blogs: haha I was the main mod on loktrollsecrets when it was a thing if that counts?

do I get asks: not anymore, I used to get this one anon who I was sure was from other places I used to be on within the internet who would just send me anon hate for a couple years haha. I also used to get this one anon in college who would ask, “What is a supersodapop?” I’m sure that one was various people joking around. If I do get asks I try to answer them, but tumblr doesn’t always like to show me any alerts for them anymore? it’s weird...

why did I choose my url: I wanted to sneak onto tumblr when my friends were all into it back in the day but I didn’t want a super obvious one so I named myself after superman+the closest object near my computer which was a soda can lmfao....... I can’t be bothered to change it that’s too much effort

following blogs: 897

followers: 1000 - 1029 mainly saying this because I’m almost positive some of them are bots

favorite colors: blue, teal, purple

average hours of sleep: sleep? what is that

lucky numbers: 4

instruments: I used to play piano but I had serious trouble reading the music and no matter how much I explain to my teacher that I had major trouble reading music on paper, she wouldn’t help me and she was the only teacher offered at this after school program - she didn’t like that I was learning only by ear (it was some electric piano where you could stick floppy discs, yes those, into it and hear the song as you learn to play) so I quit lmaooo -  I also was in choir if you wanna count my voice but my parents wouldn’t pay for lessons so I quit again also UIL sight reading?? I was fucked lmao I dodged that and kept playing competitive soccer

what am I wearing: leggings and a steven universe t-shirt

how many blankets do I sleep with: one because it’s so fucking hot where I live in Texas - in the winter sometimes three - I sleep with like 4259492578957 pillows though

dream trip: Japan or WDW - I’ve only been to like....Oklahoma besides places in Texas......... sad, I know

favorite food: chicken parm, pad thai, conan’s pizza (like a specific restaurant’s in Austin, TX), steamed pork dumplings, and I dunno like lots of pasta dishes, also red velvet cake and apple pie

nationality: American

favorite song right now: have you like, heard??? florence’s new song?? also like anything from imagine dragon’s last album

tagging: I’m too lazy haha y’all can do it if you want though and say I did