#yes i had a horrible time seeing as i am horribly wordy always
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Dearest Ralphie Boy,
To be honest.... I'm starting to think I do might know him! So now I'm wondering if he recognizes my name, let me know! Of course, California is a big state, not as big as Texas which I'm told, if you want good barbecue... That's the place to go. It is a shame about the passport deal... I hope you all get it sorted because I'd think you'd have a marvelous time here! If only for the food. California is the place for Mexican food as well, how are you with spice? I ask that, but I'm actually kinda horrible at it. My dad definitely has a higher tolerance for it, so whenever he claims something is spicy.... I don't believe him. I just don't.
Ahhh. Podcasts. Some of those are good! It's sort of like... Did you have those radio shows back home? It's kind of like that, it really depends, but basically audio shows or plays that one puts on the internet, could have a theme, sometimes interviews with celebrities and the like, or just discussion. But be wary if it's just a group of men that have a microphone but overall shouldn't. Do not listen. They have nothing noteworthy to say.
Haha, yes, you can let him just read what I wrote. I wouldn't want him to take it out on the messenger. Yve from California says it's GIF and will figuratively die on this hill, Scott! I said what I said.
There's nothing wrong with that! Life is too busy and sometimes too draining that a quick and easy meal is just what we need, you know? I like that kind of mac and cheese myself, my go to lazy meal.... Sometimes just a bowl of cereal. Or lately, I've rediscovered my love of hot dogs. Terribly American, I know. But, a beef hot dog on a skillet with some melted butter, grilled and then in a bun with your choice of toppings? It hits the spot. Especially if I cut up a potato and fry it with some oil on a skillet. Potatoes are a big thing for me, I love them. Mashed, baked, fried, roasted, I'll have it. Salted butter and a sprinkle of sea salt, or if fried, with ketchup. Again. Very American.
You really should try some barbecue. My go to would be the chicken, beef ribs ( sometimes pork, but, I'm a beef gal ) and either a tri tip or, there's one restaurant that does brisket burnt ends and it sounds weird but it's the most tender meat you'll ever taste.
God, we're quite wordy, aren't we? And usually over food. But since we're talking about food, what's your favorite dessert? Might as well.
Warmest Regards, Yve
Dearest Yve,
I hope it is not too forward to echo your sentiments back to you!
I am rather wary of spiced foods, admittedly. Especially after my friends gave me a meal that I later learned, when I looked at the menu for myself, that it had four peppers next to it, would you believe! I should have known something was afoot when they all had their phone cameras out. Rest assured, I shall seek my revenge! And I have learned to never let other people order for me.
Oh, a radio show! That could be fun. Victoria always said I had a face for radio, but that makes no sense at all, you can't see the faces of radio hos- Oh. I think I understand what she was trying to say, now.
I am writing these instructions down to try a true American hot dog! And ah, yes. The potato. So versatile, so universally loved, and yet so humble. One can only aspire to be at one with such a wondrous foodstuff.
I do tend to ramble quite a bit, especially when I am in especially pleasant company or I am talking about something I enjoy. And here I am, experiencing both! Normally this is the part where I would apologise for being "too much", as my... *ahem*, darling sister would describe me. And yet, you speak as freely as I do! How marvellous. To answer you, I've always had an especially sweet tooth. Mother never allowed me to have my favourite chocolate cake as a child, but now that I am a wage-earning adult, I can buy all the cake I want! It doesn't even need to be my birthday! This is truly living.
Warmest regards,
Ralph
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I saw ‘We were dancing but all of a sudden it’s a slow song and we’re standing here awkwardly staring at each other’ on the good part prompts and. If that isn’t nurseydex I don’t know what is. Just dropping in the obligatory I love your writing!! Thanks for sharing it with us!! at the end of this ask :D
i've actually fulfilled this exact prompt for nurseydex before lol! you can find it here. but in the spirit of the task, i decided to write a new one, but i saw this post and got inspired to try to fit it into 100 words, so you get an actual certified drabble for this prompt. short but sweet, hope you enjoy!
“We can—stop,” Nursey says, standing a foot away as couples around them sway to the unexpectedly slow rhythm, hands clasped, heads resting on shoulders, chests pressed to chest, and Dex decides—
No. So it’s his brother’s wedding. So he and Nursey have been dancing—ha—around one another for years now. So it’s 100% not the right time.
He wants. He wants Nursey close enough that he can’t feel anything but him. He wants to guide Nursey through a song neither of them knows, just for an excuse to be close.
He holds out his hand.
Nursey takes it.
#nurseydex#dexnursey#check please#my writing#sort of fic#ficlet#drabble#a real one!#derek nurse#nursey#william poindexter#dex#yes i am rather tipsy atm#yes i had to fiddle with this extensively to get it to be 100 words#yes i had a horrible time seeing as i am horribly wordy always#no i don't care#enjoy!!! lol#the other prompts will be longer i promise
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Sic Infit
“Si vis pacem, para bellum.’ Fight me if you will, courier. You can have your little war. If a power struggle is what you desire, I will deliver one-- and you will lose.”
Vulpes Inculta/Courier
Yes, I am acutely aware no one gives a shit about this horrible, despicable man on here (and we are better for it), but I know there’s one or two folks who enjoy him, so here you go. Had this one kicking around for a while. It sucks, it’s wordy, and I wrote it high off my gourd. Enjoy.
Warnings: Dubcon, cruelty, sadism, noncon mentions, typical legion dickery, forced kissing, sexual harassment, bad bargaining and as per the usual, dreadful writing. Reader is courier or your OC is courier or whatever you want, I left it vague. Fuck I hate this guy.
Thin, cruel fingers dig into the hollow of her cheeks, a bruising hold on her jaw as she struggles against his iron grip; He yanks her head to the West- to the glittering city of New Vegas- forcing her eyes to the tide of crimson that advances like an endless wave against the gates of the strip. Their arrival is a harbinger of ruthless slaughter and carnage. This is only the calm before the storm-- A preemptive death rattle.
They haven’t broken the gate yet, but the courier has seen enough to know it is an inevitability. Only a matter of time with a slight tilt on sheer luck. Legion vanguard are felled by the Securitron defenses but for each that sacrifices himself, two more take his place until the machines are dogpiled and hacked into scrap metal by freshly sharpened machetes and spears.
The silence of it all from the tower he’s trapped her on is deafening. Fear is tangible across the landscape, the air stagnant and rotten and vibrating the low, dreadful hum of unmistakable terror. Behind the wall, civilians chant their prayers to lost Gods that long ago turned their back on the wasteland and cower behind pleas of mercy that will fall on deaf Legionary ears.
No, it won’t be a battle. A battle implies there are two sides in a war-- That there is, in some form, a fairness to it. A chance.
It will be a massacre.
Death comes on a pale horse but his armor is red.
To her back, Vulpes Inculta inhales hard, nostrils flaring as his mouth slashes a jackal’s grin. “Do you smell it too, little courier? Of course you do. You’ve been on the opposite side of it enough to be familiar, haven’t you?” He hisses into the shell of her ear the way a lover might, and a shudder rolls her spine at the sheer malevolence of it. “The scent of a war already won.”
The gaudy Caesar’s armor that adorns his chest digs into her back as he holds flush against him and the warm breath that moistens on her nape curdles her stomach into blossoming nausea. She doesn’t need to see him to know the smug expression he wears. The same snarling smirk he presses against her temple now is the very same he donned at Nipton: Cruel in his ill-gotten victory and every bit as arrogant in it.
“The dying screams of your city will be the death groan of the West. A town of ghosts and spectres--” He muses beneath a slight chuckle. “--that are already dead but too foolish to know it.”
She offers him no banter. He always did like to hear himself talk.
“The arrival of my Legion heralds the swan song of your little attempt at civilization.” He continues, undeterred by her lack of engagement. “This absurd little experiment you’ve spent years protecting is no sturdier than the shifting sands of the Mojave, courier. While you and your little friends were playing at greatness, I was rising to it. These heretical monuments to greed and lust you fought so vehemently defend will crumble all the same as the rubble beneath the boots of my army. You know it to be true as well as I do.” He twists her arm when she doesn’t respond once again, practically purring at her quickly stifled cry of pain. Hate burns an agonizing hole in her throat and the urge to tear him apart with her bare hands is overwhelming, her vision blinking black with bloodlust. Frustration sits thick in the fog of it all because no matter how she struggles, he is bigger and stronger and faster than she is, and he has no qualms about using that against her. Without her gun, she’s as helpless as a babe in his arms. Close quarter combat is not her strong suit; It’s his specialty.
“You are despicable.” She spits, if only so he will stop abusing her arm. She’s no use to anyone with crippled limbs. “Don’t talk to me about shit like greed and the ‘sins of the dissolute' as your army murders a clear cut path through the land and enslaves the innocent. Your Legion is nothing but indoctrinated boys running rampant under the guise of some twisted take on manifest destiny, and you yet another despotic, tyrannical man doing what men have always done best! Watering the ground with blood and then wondering why nothing will grow!”
“Innocent?” His chest bubbles with cold laughter as his hand finally releases her forearm, sliding up to plant firmly around her neck. “My sweet courier, how can you call anything raised in the brutality of the waste innocent? The Mojave makes monsters out of men. This is an immutable truth that you cannot deny. The difference is I give those monsters a duty-- A true purpose. I use their destructive urges for the betterment of man while you encourage them and let them fester and putrefy behind your glimmering walls of vice and sin.”
“New Vegas has its faults, but how dare you pretend you’re better than me when we all know what happens behind the gate at Fortification Hill. The violence, the brutality, the rape-”
“My officers are given wives. It’s not wanton debauchery like you believe it is.” “Yes it is! You take women as slaves and throw them to your officers like a piece of meat! And those are the lucky ones! I’ve seen your slave pens, seen what happens after you take a town! You crucify the men and let your contubernio run rampant on the women! Some of them don’t even make it out alive!”
“I cannot deny my men the spoils of war from a victory hard earned. As the blood of your people runs cold on the streets, ours pumps hotter than ever, just as Mars intended.”
“You might be able to fool your men with that bullshit about Mars and the divine right to conquer, but drop the act with me, Vulpes. You and I both know you’re too smart to actually believe old Caesar’s Roman gimmick. He’s dead now.”
“Perhaps.” He considers. “Maybe it all is a lie, but the sight before you isn’t. It raised the finest military the new world has known, and will give way to the most successful empire in history. You judge me, courier, but the ends justify the means. Finis coronat opus.”
“Oh, fuck that--” “And what of your lies? You’ve spent the better part of the last five years batting away the NCR and telling your beloved New Vegas that you could keep them safe; They could be independent and free despite being beset on all sides by threats. You knew this day would come, you simply didn’t know if it would be the bear or the bull with blood on its teeth.”
“I--” She starts, the dam breaking open with the swelling of guilt. “I had a plan! I--” “You know what they say about good intentions, and I think it’s fair to say you’ve paved the path to Hell in pearls.”
“The Legion was supposed to die!” Her voice breaks, cracking in the face of her failure. “After Caesar-- After Lanius--” “But it didn’t, did it?” He sets her jaw loose, brushing away a strand of hair from her face as she tries to crane away. “It united under me. ”
“I should have killed you at Nipton when I first laid eyes on you.” “But you didn’t. You showed mercy-- Weakness . And here we are.”
“No matter.” She shoves it down deep into the pits of her gut, stoppering the emotion before it can crest. “Don’t talk down to me when your damned empire is built on the backs of boy-soldiers and the women they violate to breed your disgusting slave army.”
“Their desire is righteous, dear girl, as is mine--” Vulpes tightens his grip on her throat, constricting her airway just enough to assert his dominance over her. “--and I will take what is rightfully mine. Just as I have taken the Legion, just as I am about to take your precious city. There is so much that is ripe for the taking--” His thumb caresses her pulse-point and he revels in the spike in her heartbeat as she realizes the soft lull of his voice does not lend itself to a swift and merciful end, but rather something much more sinister. “--including you.”
Her adrenaline skyrockets, her vision whirling into a black-edged tunnel that feeds on the pooling dread of his implication. She claws at his grip, tallies of flesh that trail her fingers flushing white and into red as she rakes her nails down the pallid skin of his hand in an effort to pry herself free. He doesn’t relent, even as little bubbles of blood begin to form in her wake. Instead, he laughs as if it’s the most adorable thing in the world.
A wandering hand brushes against the hem of her pants in a manner purely meant to taunt and it breathes new life into her struggle. “I would rather fling myself from this goddamned tower than let you have me, you filthy fucking Legion mongrel!”
“If you intended to do so, you should have done it the moment the sun rose above the horizon on the day of my grand victory. I warned you that this fight was futile, yet-- stubborn little thing that you are-- here you stand. Though soon, you will kneel before your new lord.”
Her gut churns as she contemplates his words, realizing now that his lingering gazes and suggestive threats over the years were more than a simple gambit to make her uncomfortable and knock her off her game. Under the late Caesar, he was a rabid dog, but he yielded obediently to the master who kept him tight on a leash pulled taut and firm by a heavy hand. He would not act without the permission of his Caesar, no matter how he wanted to; No matter how he longed .
She had freed him from this final cage of restraint by hunting down his overlords and now she and the entire Mojave would pay the price for it.
“You will be my consort.” He strokes the rounds of her neck possessively, saying the words matter-of-factly as if simply speaking them is enough will them into existence. “And then, when you learn to behave-- and you will-- you will take your proper place at my side as my wife.”
“I would rather die than marry you!”
“And how many will die too, courier? How many sacrificed at the altar of your pride? Your hubris will bring so much unnecessary bloodshed.” He leans closer, coaxing her again toward the city with a nudge of his chin. “You’re a smart girl-- it’s part of why I chose you-- so think about this pragmatically. You can save them-- Save them the anguish and humiliation of defeat and the cruel fate of the cross.”
This gives her pause. Legion men swarm the gates, and it’s only a matter of time before his army overruns the city. Her heart pounds in her chest; She is running out of time.
“The profligates listen to you. Convince them to lay down their arms and yield to the Legion.” He sings his blasphemous whispers into her ear, silken voice soft and seductive. “Be my Venus; Sit by my side and be the voice of my mercy. Spare your people much unnecessary misery and keep their blood off of your hands. You are responsible for the surge of hope they feel. You must be the one to snuff it out for their sake.”
He inhales sharply against her scalp, taking in the scent of her, desire pulsing a hot course through his veins. She recoils away, her disgust only serving to amplify his need. “Or has the beloved courier finally run short of that legendary selflessness?”
“Spare them death only to usher them into slavery? They trust me and you ask me to hand-deliver them into servitude and tell them to be grateful for it after I promised them freedom and then add insult to injury by pledging myself to the very man who enslaves them.”
“That was your folly, and a mistake you must own. You have my word they will be fed and sheltered.” He vows. “I cannot spare them pain, but it is more than you could ask of any other invading army, and more favor than I give to most because of my fondness for you.”
“You ask me to deliver them to a fate worse than death!”
“Is it truly worse than death?” He asks, motioning toward his great army once more. “You have seen the death the Legion offers. The crows will pick from their carrion, the sun bleaching their bones. I will leave them rotting in the streets as a lesson to anyone else who defies me. My men will ravage the weak and leave them to bleed. The strong will be bent until they break. I will adopt the young into our army and raise them as my warriors, brought up to revere Legion values.”
She had seen the children of the Legion army. They trained with machetes from the age they were old enough to hold one and were ruthless and single-minded in their devotion to the cause by the time they reached adulthood, already adapting to the cruelty of war before the onset of puberty. She has seen the slaves they take with their blackened eyes and broken, bloody bodies. The empty stares and blank expressions, devoid of all light or hope. This is the salvation he extends to her as an olive branch.
Yes, they would be fed and sheltered because he is true to his word, but at what cost? Perhaps the mercy of death, even a prolonged one, was better than the hospitality the Legion offers.
“I can’t, Vulpes. I won’t. I won’t do that to them.”
“Then they will die.” He states without a hint of remorse. “Senselessly and violently and without mercy. I will let loose the hounds of hell from their leashes and you will see what a devil war makes of men. I will take you into the throng of death and you will be made to watch and forced to listen to their screams and you can tell them as the light leaves their eyes that they suffered because of you .”
Vulpes is a monster, but he is a monster of his word. If he tells her he’ll do something, he will see to it that it’s done. If he says he’ll make her watch, he will pry open her eyes with his own hands.
“Kill me with my people, then. When your bloodlust is satisfied, end me with them. I won’t betray them. Or just throw me off of this damn tower right now.”
He does something akin to a giggle and it is extremely disconcerting. “Oh, I don’t think so. Your fate is sealed, no matter which path you choose. I’d have you willingly, but I welcome a challenge all the same.”
Revulsion curdles her gut. “I’ll not be your whore, Vulpes! Kill me-- Shoot me, stab me, nail me to the dam, whatever. But I will not idly by your side while you rip a new hell and ravage my city.”
“You will obey me because you have no other choice.”
“There is always a choice, and I am telling you no!”
“It is not your choice to make.” His arms enclose around her, slipping to her waist and squeezing her against him even as she tries to squirm free.
“They’ll fight you-- They will!” She snarls, all ferocity and iron will. “You will get nothing from us. The people of New Vegas would rather die on their feet than serve on their knees.”
“Lucky you.” He chuckles at his own morbid humor. “You get to serve on your knees.”
“You foul, repugnant, repressed little cunt of a man!”
“You should be honored by my proposal, courier.” His voice is liquid velvet cloying down her throat: Suffocating and smooth. “I find you worthy.”
He arches over her, hands sliding down to grip ominously at the low of her stomach. “Your body will bear the sons of a God-King. Demigods-- Conquerors. From your womb, the rise of a new nation. A powerful, unending empire-- The warriors birthed from your hips and my seed will be legendary--”
Bile rises in her throat as she is forced to imagine bearing Vulpes’ children. His spawn, every part the cunning, cutthroat killer their father is-- Being made to watch as they grow up ruthless and amoral and cruel, practically born with a machete in one hand and the throat of the world in the other. “You’ll not touch me or I’ll cut you from navel to neck--”
“You are most certainly welcome to try. I always liked a bit of fight in my women. Yet another reason I’ve wanted you-- Why I turned down every wife Caesar tried to cast my way. I have waited for years for you. To have you; To taste the woman behind all the sand and armor. I will not be denied now that I finally have you.”
“You do not have me! I said I’d rather die and I meant it!”
“Si vis pacem, para bellum.’ Fight me if you will, courier. You can have your little war. If a power struggle is what you desire, I will deliver one-- and you will lose.”
“Fuck--” “You will bend for me, or you will break .
He whirls her around to face him, grating her back to the wall and pressing himself firm against her in a show of force. He is so close that he can breathe her air, smell her, inhale her rage and righteous indignation and sate himself on it. His feral warrior woman; His courier. She is the mercy of the Mojave, a swift death incarnate trapped in a cage of his limbs and she is all fangs and fury and fear as he backs her into a corner.
“I will have you. This is inevitable and there is nothing you can do to stop it. I will have you when and where I want, when I want, and how I want. I have been patient and plotted every move painstakingly over years at the mere memory of you and today my plan culminates in a glorious triumph, and you will be my prize. There is no other way. You belong to me. You have always belonged to me. Since the moment I laid eyes on you, you have been mine.”
“You are out of your fucking mind--” “Call me what you will. It does not change the truth.”
“Saying something is true doesn’t make it so!”
“Acta non verba.”
He shoves his mouth against hers so hard it hurts-- a clash of teeth and bone that leaves them both aching. She tastes of blood and rage and scalding hatred that sings to him, passionate and unrelenting. The promise of her was enough to keep his fire burning in the dark years that followed Caesar’s death and now that she is finally his , he refuses to waste a moment of it, relishing in every little bit she offers up to him.
Her kiss is as raw as the desert sand and twice as unforgiving. Brutality unrivaled: Snapping and biting and fighting him every step of the way in a heated expression of her hatred until her energy runs dry and she relents to his advances. Somewhere along the way, her disgust transforms into a beast of a different breed and she finally lets his tongue slip past her teeth, allowing him inside of her to indulge in her taste. She absolutely despises him but she was made to be his and on some level she must understand this, he thinks, because she eventually melts into him, mewling in the low of her throat.
Her infuriated hits against his chest with her furled fists slowly lose their strength until she is clawing him closer, her fingers twisting into the cloth of his tunic to draw him near and devour him whole with equal fervor. Her teeth sink into the swell of his bottom lip until he tastes copper in her wake and he groans, primal and animalistic against her. He returns the favor but a few seconds later and she exhales a ragged moan into his open mouth, chest heaving and puffing for air.
“I’ve waited so long for you--” He growls deep in his chest between sloppy, open mouthed assaults . “--Needed you-- Dreamed of you-- And now you are finally mine--”
“Not yours--” She shakes her head vehemently, still dragging him near as he wraps his hands around the back of her thighs to hike her legs up around his hips. “--Never yours--”
“ Yes -- You are-- Give in to me, woman--” He pants against her, the pressure building at the base of his spine to unbearable levels. “You have-- no-- other-- choice--”
She whines as he pulses his hips to emphasize, silencing whatever protest she may have been forming. It doesn’t stop her trying to pull her head away, but he doesn’t allow for it.
Two titans locked in a struggle for dominance with each other overlooking the blood red horizon at the crossroads of impending battle of their conflicting worlds: The Monster of the Mojave and its Caesar’s Wife. “Call off your army.” She heaves, whooping in air as she pulls away from him. “Call off your men and I’m-- I’m yours. Take the Mojave, take the Nevada, I don’t care-- But leave New Vegas and the freeside. Let me keep my promise and I’ll keep one to you in turn.”
“A beacon of freedom in a sea of Legion red-- My sweet little courier, I thought you were so much smarter than that. You must learn to think more than two steps ahead if you are to be my equal.” He coos derisively, trying to tame the fire thrumming in his blood and regain control of himself once more. If he doesn’t, he’ll have her here and now. “Do you intend for your people to live packed atop one another? Because once the Legion advances beyond New Vegas, vagrants and stragglers will come from near and far to seek shelter behind your walls, and you are too wea-- soft hearted to turn them away. Resources will run thin and quality of life will drop, people suffering and dying because of your shortsightedness.” “I’d find a way--” She tries to unweave her legs from around him but he doesn’t allow for it, keeping her tangled against her will. “On top of attending to your wifely duties?” He practically purrs. “I think not. I don’t need your attention divided from me.” “Wifely duties? Are you mad?” She shoves at him hard and he crows as he stumbles back, dropping her back to her feet.
“New Vegas exists in its current form because it is exclusive. It carries a high price to even walk the streets, and that isn’t counting the caps needed to enjoy the services. When you let everyone in, you destroy the illusion that separates the elite from the common, and New Vegas becomes another filthy hovel refugee camp.”
“So be it!” “Those at the top of your totem will not take kindly to that, and you’ll have a civil war on your hands. A war you will not be present to preside over, as you will be at my side at the capital where you belong. Your streets will run red with blood until your untethered beast tears itself apart with its own teeth and claws with me. I’ll not even have to lift a finger to destroy it.”
“I--”
“But hypothetically, for the sake of argument, let’s say you somehow do manage it through some miracle of fate. You think I could stand for a profligate capital in the middle of my territory? The men are faithful and strong, but they are still men . The temptations of your New Vegas would prove too much to resist. They would sneak inside and corrupt their bodies and minds, causing cracks in the foundation of my army that I cannot abide.” Her eyes on him are sharp and calculating, but he does not miss the sheen of helplessness to them. She already knows. She is railing against the inevitable. Howling her sorrow to an uncaring and cruel moon. “If your men are as disciplined as you claim them to be--” “Men are human, and to be human is to be imperfect by nature. There are many that would stay true, but even a single soldier is not a price I am willing to pay for your foolish play at anarchy.”
“It’s a city of free people and you would destroy it! And for what? Pride? Glory? What, Vulpes, explain it to me! Make me understand!” “For the sake of progress and the only true chance at civilization. It’s a small price to pay, my dear wife, and in time, you will come to see I am right. You are a clever sort, and once you see the true power of my Legion-- the life and the fulfillment only I can offer you-- You will devote yourself to me wholeheartedly and unquestioningly.”
“You’ve lost your fucking mind! You’d enslave countless people-- families, women, children, everyone in New Vegas and beyond-- for your bullshit delusions of grandeur, and you’ll murder them if I refuse you! I could never understand such a sadistic, greedy need for power and I don’t want to! You-- You are a monster! A despicable, empty shell of a human. I could never--” “In time you will. You will see. As I’ve said, you don’t have another choice.”
“Like hell! Not good enough, Inculta. No deal.” She spits clean at his feet, wiping angrily across her mouth as if she could erase him from her flesh. Her lips rise in a vicious snarl; A whirlwind of disgust and self loathing and impotent rage as she glowers at him with a renewed contempt. “First chance I get, Vulpes, the very first and I am bolting. You look away even once and I am gone and you can send all the goddamned Frumentarii after me that you’d like, I will die rather than come back to you. You might be able to manhandle me off of this tower and let’s suppose you even manage to get me back to your shitty capital and chain me to your fucking throne. I will never be your wife in more than title and I will never-- could never-- love you. Never. ”
“We will see.” He says, sounding so certain in it that it rattles her to the core. His eyes are aflame with lust, heart pounding behind his ribs as he reaches for her again, unable to stop himself any longer. A cacophony of screams begins to rise to the west as the gates of New Vegas finally crumble at the hands of the Legion bombardment. The sounds of his warriors' battlecries reaches his ears and his very soul sings with delight. As with all things he wants, his will becomes real.
“And I suppose--” He pinches her chin straight back to him as she turns in abject horror to witness the slaughter, kissing her softly once again as the tears slip down the curve of her ruddy cheeks. The sliver of hope she held so dear falls in defeat at his hands and so too does her beloved city. “--I best not look away then.”
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for the past few months, i’ve found myself thinking ‘why have i chosen to hyperfixate on emo again?’ and more specifically as of late, ‘why am i so obsessed with ryan ross/pre-split panic! at the disco’? what makes pre-split panic! at the disco so special that i’m out here, twenty-six years old, obsessing over a mere two albums that i’ve played hundreds of times in the past 10+ years from a band that only truly existed for such a brief span of time?
the 00s emo scene is special to me and it will always have my entire heart. i’ll never forget the rush of euphoria i got from seeing mcr top the daily trl countdown on mtv, or saving my unspent lunch money to buy a teeny magazine on my way home from school so i could find out just what DOES pete wentz looks for in a girl? that 2004-2009 scene is a very unique moment in time, and what i think we can all agree is the ‘golden age’ of emo.
and the majority of the bands that we associate with this scene have fallen into one of the following categories: a., continued on and created many other albums since (the used, paramore, taking back sunday). b., returned in a big way from a major hiatus/breakup (mcr, fall out boy) or c., broken up/have gone on an indefinite ‘hiatus’ (cobra starship, the academy is..., gym class heroes).
and panic! at the disco is interesting because, yes, they TECHNICALLY should be in category A, as they are still an active ‘band’ (if we wanna call them that...), and you can unfortunately hear high hopes playing at pretty much any target store in america if you stick around long enough. but i think it’s more than fair to say that the panic! at the disco of 2006 and the panic! of today are separate entities entirely and practically unrecognizable from one another, aside from the continued presence of brendon urie. and it’s not the current state of panic! that i’m fixating on, or the one that most of the fandom seems to focus on -- it’s those pre-split years. those very brief, just barely four years, where they were a wet dream for the webzines, the boys who made us sweat, who we thought about in bed
and i think that brevity and the fact they did split up is what makes the pre-split years so special
it becomes a question of ‘what if?’, or a longing for ‘what could have been’; i think that is what attracts a lot of younger/newer fans to gravitate toward the pre-split years and band members. but in my case, and what i believe is a shared sentiment among people my age who were fans prior to 2009, it’s a matter of ‘what once was’ and ‘what i love and miss’. pre-split panic! feels so frozen in that 00s emo scene for me, and i think a major part of that is because they only ever existed in that ‘true form’ during those years. and when they split, that’s when the scene started to shift and change, too
so when i belt out the slightly pretentious and wordy fever lyrics at the top of my lungs, or make fun of the horrible haircuts they all had, or laugh at ryan ross’ livejournal posts, it serves as sort of a comforting retreat back to those simpler times, right back to that ‘golden age’. and given the state of the world right now, that is something that is not only desperately needed, but also more than welcomed
you can catch me playing afycso and pretty. odd. on repeat, and maybe, just maybe, if i do it enough, i will get transported out of the hell that is 2020 and right back to 2007
#sorry i know this is long and wordy#i've been thinking about this for awhile and i just wanted to write it all out#more for me than anyone but i'd be curious to know if anyone else feels the same way#and if you liked this little analysis thank you :)#panic! at the disco#smile.txt#long post#(also since people have asked: more than okay to rb!!!)
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Drunken Words, Sober Thoughts (Part Two).
SUMMARY: after a rough night, all Y/N wants to do is brew a couple cups of coffee and common sense and drown her sorrows alive. but that’s all snatched away from her when someone decides to pay her a morning visit. WARNING: angst, foul language. PAIRING: Diego Hargreeves x reader WORD COUNT: 3205.
part one found here.
A/N: this is SO late to come...I’m so sorry, folks. but here it is, in all its horrible glory. it’s been a crazy couple weeks but I’m happy that I actually got this done (I was worried it wasn’t actually going to happen, but here we are). enjoy, lovelies.
LET IT BE KNOWN, Y/N HATED ANSWERING THE DOOR.
When one lived in an apartment complex filled with batshit crazies one would do their absolute best to avoid, answering the door was a nightmare. There were very few actual reasons to answer the door, and none of those really applied to late morning after a shit night. Honestly, she was not sure why she went to it in the first place.
But she went. A fatal mistake, leaving her gasping for air, standing in her mis-matched socks and old gym shorts with far too many mysterious stains to count. There she was, regretting just about every single thing in her gross hot pants and the worst breath known to man, staring gape-faced at the person waiting at the other end of the door.
“...oh.”
“Hi.”
“What are - what - what are you doing here?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well - I mean - I - you left,” she blurted, finally setting on two words to spit out instead of spluttering in his face. “Left, gave me a stupid note and that’s it, so I thought that was...man, I don’t know. Forgive me if I’m a little confused as to what you’re doing at my door this early in the morning.”
Diego frowned, shrinking into himself at the harsh tone. “Uh, sorry,” was all he muttered back, unable to stammer out something stronger.
She sighed and shuffled so the door was properly open and he could come in. “No, I should be sorry. Just come in.” Y/N stifled a yawn even while closing the door. “I just woke up n’I haven’t had coffee yet. I’m a little bitter.” Sure, because that was the reason.
“Right. Well, would this,” he paused, lifting his hands to show off two cups, “help?”
Despite herself, Y/N smiled slightly. Was she happy to see him? No, she really could have done without that angst so bright and early and honestly, seeing his face made her want to scream (and not in a good way). It would have been better to have the day off from seeing him, the two of them avoiding one another until he could look her in the eye and pretend like nothing happened. She preferred that to awkward NOT one-night-stand run-ins.
But he had coffee and she did not have any of that without him there, so she would cope with the mandatory side effects. Gratefully, she took the steaming cup and downed a gulp, wincing at the burning throat. “Thanks.”
“Sure. N-no problem.” He paused, clearing his throat. “Figured I owed that much to you.”
Her first thought went to a simple ‘huh’, but luckily she was able to cut herself short. No point running through that awkward exchange when she knew what could come and that it would get the two of them nowhere. She was way too peeved to play into the simper and fluffy nonsense that was her delusional heart. Y/N downed one more gulp of steaming coffee to steel her nerves and slammed the cup down.
“What are you doing here, right now?” More of a command than a question.
“I told you.”
“No, actually you did not tell me anything. And again, forgive me for being a little point-blank right now, Diego, but -” her coffee-free hand raised and flailed about rather gracelessly. “You show up with coffee after a dismal, three word - actually, two words and an initial - note and honestly, I’d be fine with all of this if you had just been a bit...let’s say, wordy with your explanation. Or your arrival at fu-I don’t even know what time it is, that’s how confused I am right now.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. No - yeah - I’m fine,” she snapped, folding her arms across herself as though they were a protective barrier between him and her beating heart. “Okay, so - that’s not the point. I want to know...I mean…” her irritated confidence was draining out of her, leaving her clambering for the next words in front of his wide eyes, trying to come up with another question when the words would not come out. All there was in her mouth was the shit taste of coffee, mixing with faint mint and whatever saliva had not dried right up. Was she going to vomit, right then and there? Hell, maybe.
“I can leave, if-if-”
“No,” she threw out, far too fast for her to catch the word. “I mean...I don’t want you to leave.”
“Oh.”
She sighed once more. “I’m just tired, is all. It was a long night, and if I’m being honest? I wasn’t expecting to see anyone, least of all you, this early in the morning. You’re welcome to be here, stay, do whatever - if I could just have like, ten to change and fix myself up? Then we can talk. Or whatever.”
That was code for lose her shit in her bedroom for nine minutes and then rush to make herself presentable in the last sixty seconds of chaos.
She expected a nod and acceptance to her request, leaving her already turning away from Diego, but that did not come. Instead, he caught her arm and shook his head gently. “I’m not staying long.”
Her lips pursed. The arm he had just held fell limply back to her side. “Huh?”
“I just came by to c-clear things up.”
“Oh…” She had no clue what to do with that. “Okay…?”
“I left the note there, but then A-Allison told me I had to come back.”
“Hold up, Allison?”
Diego nodded, groaning as he rubbed the side of his head. “She ran into me, made me - it doesn’t matter. And before you ask - no, she didn’t, you know, ‘make’ me.”
“Mm. Thanks for the clarification.” Y/N loved Allison, she really did, but one could never be too sure with the Hargreeves siblings. “But why are you here, Diego? I - I mean - it’s Saturday, you’ve got work to do, shit to get ready for the crazy vigilante weekend set ahead. All this-”
“-how do y-you always know so much about me?”
Y/N stopped short, whirling around to stare at him dead. Once more she was caught off guard and directed onto a totally different path of conversation, led along by his pleading, dark eyes and the vague statements he seemed to love throwing her way. “What?”
“You always know every single damn thing. Everything.” His hand came down from his head, in the shape of a fist, only to ram against her kitchen counter. She saw a flash of pain erupt across his face, but he of course, said nothing about it. “And I know jackshit.”
“So? What’s that gotta do with anything?”
“You - you - I - you do so much, an’ you do so much shit for me. But e’ery time I come around it’s like you shut down and I barely fuckin’ get to know your middle name!”
“Come on, you know my middle name.”
“Do I?”
“Diego, - holy - what?” She had said that word far too many times at that point - and yet she could not stop herself from mumbling it over and over in disbelief. “I’m so fucking confused right now. Why’d you come over here to yell at me for my middle name?”
“I didn’t! I - god, you’re getting me all mixed up!”
To that, she rolled her eyes. Gone was the flustered nature; all she could think about was her utter frustration, mingling with anger and the fact she had missed out on a rare chance to sleep well. All this yelling was giving her a headache, and that was just the tip of the fucking iceberg, wasn’t it?
“You know what? I’m not doing this right now,” she muttered. One hand moved to massage at her temples, trying to heed off the incoming migraine. “Unless you’ve got something to say, something actually important, I’m busy. You should, uh, leave.”
Y/N did not look towards Diego, could not in her anger, but if she had maybe she would understand a little better. His face had fallen, and for once the expression was readable - one of failure. There was a good reason to be there and it was not to bring up stupid topics and toy with her. With both of them.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. I just have things to do.” What a painfully bad lie. She really had to try a bit harder - but it was far too hard just then. Even looking at him was difficult, then. “We can talk later if you want my social security number n’shit too.”
That jab clearly stung, but she really did not care (or tried to tell herself she did not). She wanted to say a whole lot more, but the words clung to the roof of her mouth and threatened to choke her out if she so much and dared to begin any of them. All she could do was start wringing her hands and focus on anything but him.
“Fine.” His words were heavy, hitting her like a sledgehammer and she struggled to hold the weight without breaking face. “Sure.”
“We can talk later-”
“S’okay,” he grumbled, already twisting away. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have come.”
“Oh, my fucking jeez, Diego.”
That was meant to be an aside, but it came out much louder and angrier than she had meant - and Diego heard it perfectly. He did not turn to her, but his back did stiffen and she knew that his made up face of pretend calm had most definitely cracked.
Y/N was left with two options. One, she could try to play it off, shove him out the door - pull that whole shebang, which would leave her probably only angrier and more hurt and neither of them with a solution. It might be easier for the first ten minutes or so, but she would regret it more than anything coming out of the entire interaction. But the second...well, if she was honest with herself, it was scary as all hell. She would much rather face ten thousand apocalypses than go with the second option - but was there any real choice? Sure it might hurt, but she could get over it. And really, he was probably already well aware of her badly disguised feelings anyways.
So, she erupted, swinging over to stand in front of him. Her chin jutted out and up, trying to seem bigger than she really was. “I’m done with these games, Diego Hargreeves. We keep going around in these circles where you get to hurt me - unintentionally or not - and I let you do it because I care too damn much about you. And I pretend like nothing ever happened, and I’m there for you time and time again with no complaints like a fucking housewife. But you know what? I’m done. I’m not dealing with this back and forth and now this setback from you. I’m not going to be fine with this anymore!”
“What-”
-but with a swipe of her hand, he was silenced, cut off by her ever rising voice. “You know why I know everything about you, Diego? Because you tell me, because I’m always there, always listening, always breaking my back to be around you even when you hurt me. You come by, or I come to you, and while you’re drunk as a skunk you sit on my couch and smile this great big stupid smile and tell me everything and just about anything on your mind. And the worst of it - oh, the worst is, you are so wasted you don’t even care about me, and you lie your ass off. You tell me I’m beautiful, that I’m the finest girl you’ve ever met, that you l-love me, and I let you! I stand and take her - why, I still haven’t figured it out!
“And you know why I don’t do the same with you? Because - because - because,” she paused, gasping for air and another train of thought, “because I can’t afford to let go and let you know what’s swimming around in my head. Because where you smile and lie off your ass that you think of me as anything more than a friend, I - I - I don’t feel that same way. I care about you, Diego, and more’n just as a buddy, a pal - I like you. And I wanted to tell you for the longest time, but then you started doing this! And then every day when you wake up, you forget all about it, and I’m left feelin’ miserable, knowing you’ll never feel anything close to what I feel about you.”
Y/N finally stopped, once more eagerly sucking in air. She had not realised how loud she had grown until she had to cough to clear her suddenly scratchy throat. Her eyes slid up to meet Diego’s, but after seeing his wide look of shock, they had to dart away. Shit.
“I’m sorry - I mean, I’m not,” she sighed. Carefully, her feet shuffled away, giving her space to exhale. “I just didn’t want to keep going on with that. But, m’sorry to spring it on you...sort of. I mean - nevermind. You can head out now, catch you later.”
Y/N moved to slide over to the door just a couple feet away, but just before she could turn, his arm shot out to take her wrist. Gasping slightly, she paused, looking down at his hand and then up at him. “What-”
“-would you just stand still?” Diego mumbled, stepping closer and then even nearer, so they were just a breath away from fully touching. His other hand found hers, then drifting up her waist where they gently sat. Y/N simply stood, almost frozen as he moved in what felt like slow motion towards her (in reality, it was barely two seconds of time passed, but what could she say?). Just as her eyes flew open and moved to find his, hoping to get an answer for just what was happening, his lips were on hers.
She found herself stuck, eyes still wide and hands resting awkwardly by her waist as he pressed into her. The kiss was light, soft against her lips and really unmoving - not exactly what she had imagined before, but to be fair, that was totally her frozen fault. Just, in the half-second of him kissing her, she had managed to lose all sense of reality or self, and struggled to even discern where she was. Let alone the fact that he was completely sober and kissing her.
The slow-motion second passed, though, and he was pulling back. Diego’s face had fallen and he looked down on her, a dismal expression on his face. Only then did Y/N find herself working again. As he pouted, slowly withdrawing his arms from her waist, she smiled and moved closer in.
“What are you doing?”
The only available response to that would be his own phrase shot back, a chuckled “would you just stand still?” before she was reaching up and resting her hands on his cheeks, melting into him. Unlike her, Diego reciprocated, melting into the embrace like a pat of butter. Her hands moved to be wrapped around his neck and his held her tight against him, as though he feared she would be torn from him at any second.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I liked it.”
He smiled, gently, more genuinely than he had in a while - sober, at least. “Not about the kiss - though for the record, I liked it too.”
“Mm,” she grinned, “so what’s the sorry for?”
“Everything else.”
“Elaborate?”
Diego hung his head. “I’ve been a dick. I never meant for this to go on like this, for so long - I just couldn’t t-t-talk to you, ‘bout - a-a-and-”
“-just breathe. Take your time.”
His hands shook as they cradled her own, but his grip tightened - like it was a lifeline securing him back in place. “I - I - I screwed up. Kept screwing up. I know. But you would just sh-sh-show up, and I couldn’t st-st-st-op my mouth. God, you looked so beautiful.”
Y/N, though she tried to fight against it, smiled. It was not enough of an apology to soothe the ache, or the countless midnights wasted on hurt and anger towards what she thought was her unrequited love. But in the moment, she really was not thinking about that pain or what was to come - rather, her thoughts were on what was in front of her. Who was in front of her.
“Look,” she began, softly, “I’m not gonna say that I’m okay with what you did, over and over and over again. It hurt like hell. But I gotta say, at the moment, this...this is sort of okay. And, if you kiss me a couple more times, it might even be a solid in-the-moment apology.”
“You deserve so much better n’this.”
She mocked a pout. “What do you mean?”
“I”m serious, Y/N. You’re too good for me.”
“Okay, so you’re going straight for cheese, huh?”
“Would you just be serious for a second?” he pleaded. As she laughed and pulled away, he tugged harder, as though begging her to physically accept his words. “I mean all this! I know - I can’t be who you want me to be.”
At that, she sobered up. “Who exactly do you think I want you to be, Diego? I mean, lordy, we’ve known each other forever, you know almost everything about me and my life. And I know almost all of you and yours. Barring all the shitty drunken confessions you denied over and over again, I know you’re a good guy. You don’t need to come in here, kiss me like that and then tell me you don’t wanna do this!”
“I do want to do this.”
“Then hush up and let’s enjoy this moment.”
“No, stop Y/N - I’m serious.”
“I am too, you dork.” She tugged at his hands, pulling them back around her waist. Her head still ached, but the pain had dulled - she connected it to Diego’s presence and touch though that was highly improbable. But she was giddy and over the stress of yelling at him and wanting more and more from him. Instead, she was content to sway and kiss him in the warm rays of that Saturday morning, with her hair a fuzzy halo around her head and toes curling in at his warm hold. It was a messy, lame image but at that moment, it was pure euphoria.
“We can deal with all the apologies and details and shit later,” she began, with an unavoidable smile still licking her lips. “But when I say I really, really don’t want to do that right now, I mean that.”
Diego’s eyes flitted about her face, resting on her own upturned gaze before drifting down to her lips. She felt his grip tighten around her. “You’re an-an - you’re an angel.”
“Ha. Funny.”
“I mean that, now shuddup,” he mumbled, and before she could retort to him, his lips were on hers and all she could do was smile and accept.
There would be time to talk after.
TAG LIST: @heda-mikaelson @rosa-berberifolia
#diego hargreeves#diego#diego hargreeves x reader#tua x reader#hargreeves x reader#the umbrella academy#tua#umbrella academy#diego hargreeves deserves the world#lokidyinginside fics#diego hargreeves oneshot
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Hey boo! Here's a bunch of numbers for that music meme: 1, 5, 6, 15, 20, 26, 28, 35, 38, and 50 🥳❤️ Looking forward to your answers, I love your music taste!
OOOoh this is so exciting!!! @kenzthepea...I adore you and I haven’t told you that enough lately. ❤❤❤
OK..Here goes:
1. Current Favorite Song: This is hard...Because I love so many songs. But the one I kept repeating today was Cardigan by Taylor Swift. I like the melody, and the lyrics that are so intricate. I especially love the bridge and I think my brain is formulating a fic with this song...but I have to wait and see what percolates. But it feels like that’s about to happen.
5. A Song That Reminds You Of Another Time In Your Life: I’m going to with It’s Been Awhile by Staind. I don’t know why...but every time I hear this song I think back to the first guy I fell in love with. It literally never played while we were together, or featured in our relationship at all, and has nothing to do with either of us...but it makes me think of him because I feel him in it. I think it’s maybe that during the time I met him, and fell in love with him and was held by him...I was dealing with some serious things in my home life. My mother was abusive, and I felt worthless and like a complete fuck up...but all of that didn’t matter when he hugged me. None of it mattered when we were talking. It makes me feel the way he made me feel and I love that. Because I still love him. Just differently, though 15 year old me is still deeply in love with him...But I am happily married to a man who adores me, who listens to me, and who makes me feel seen...which is exactly what Daniel did for me all those years ago. We’re still very good friends and we sing karaoke together (not currently obviously) and he still gives the best hugs and he’s still as sweet and dreamy and magnetic as he was the day I met him. And I feel grateful, so damn grateful that the first man I ever loved, taught me that I was worthy of that love, so that I could recognize when my husband felt the same way. That was long...but worth it. And you knew I’d be wordy. 🤣
6. A Song That Reminds You of A Place You’ve Been: I cannot hear the Hawaiian version of I’m Yours by Jason Mraz without instantly being transported to the beach house my husband and I were married out of a little over 11 years ago. That song was played multiple times during our stay, and the Hawaiian version is so much more lovely than the radio version. It wasn’t our wedding song...but it is our unofficial wedding song. So much so that it’s the song my husband set as my ring tone when I call him. 🥰🥰🥰 I can’t seem to find the Hawaiian version but the version I linked is very damn close.
15. A Song That Makes You Want To Fall In Love: This one was really hard...Because I’m already very much in love with my husband...But I’m going to give you two...by the same artist, on the same album, because both give off some serious sex appeal to me and both would make me ache to have someone to feel that way about if I didn’t already have my Husband-Man. Wolf Like Me by Lera Lynn ft. Shovels and Rope, and Lose Myself by Lera Lynn, ft. John Paul White (you knew he had to be in here somewhere). Both are on her Plays Well With Others album, which was co-produced by John Paul and Ben Tanner (of the Alabama Shakes) at their Sun Drop Sound recording studio in Florence, Alabama and is on their label Single Lock Records (I’m a huge fan of pretty much every artist on Single Lock’s label) and these two songs are just straight up magic. Wolf Like Me is like...a werewolf love song. It’s literally her begging someone to be a wolf like her, and understand her, and I believe its a cover...but I choose to ignore that because I don’t ever want to hear anyone but Lera and S&R singing it. It’s haunting and sexy and just...ooof. So good. Lose Myself is sexy AF as well because it’s a duet with John and they’re basically singing about being in love with someone who they know is bad for them...and it’s just so painfully sexily delicious. I dare you to listen to their voices melding and not melt into a puddle. It’s almost impossible.
(This damn post is going to be really long...I hope you don’t mind. 🤣)
20. A Song You’ve Listened To On Repeat Recently: Rattle by Penny and Sparrow (I think you already know this one) has been on repeat for me lately. This song has been many things to me...But It’s become my worship song. When I REALLY need to talk to God (I’m spiritual...I hope this isn’t something that bothers you. Apologies if it is...I won’t preach...I promise) I turn this song on and I always feel closer to Him. When I first heard it I heard it as a romantic song. But the more I listened to it, the more I felt Him in it and the lyrics really called to me. “Because I’m not proud, I’m not proud, I’m not proud of me...so how could you, how could you ever be?” really nails me on the head. I feel like I fall down on being a light for God quite a bit. I try, always, to be a beacon of love and acceptance and grace to everyone. I want to understand my fellow humans...and love them despite their flaws and foibles...but it’s hard. And so this song reminds me that I’m not alone, and that I’m not the only one who occasionally feels that I’m not making Him proud...but the last lines, “I'm gonna work on waiting, If it's true you wanna say you love me every day. And I'm sorry (that it took me so long to realize) you've always felt that way”, are a beautiful reminder that God’s love for me is something he wants to give me everyday, no matter how much I’ve failed at being His beacon on Earth. So it’s my worship song, because I don’t go to church, but hearing this song is feeling a wash of his love over me and that helps me on really hard days. (I hope that wasn’t too preachy)
26. A Song That Reminds You Of Your Favorite Fictional Character: GOD SO MANY!!! Like...everyone I’ve ever written a fic about...and there are MANY. I guess the best way to find this one is to go to my AO3 series The Music Made Me Do It
28. A Song That Represents Your “Aesthetic”: I don’t really know what my “Aesthetic” is...maybe uptight, bohemian, plant loving, boy and dog mom, who over thinks everything constantly? Is that an aesthetic? LOL. So i’m not sure how to answer this one. But if “aesthetic” means what I would have playing in the house all the time, no matter what, no matter who comes over...It would be THIS entire playlist. It’s called Relaxed Jams (which is the EPITOME of an original title...I’m not good with titles...leave me alone 😂) and it’s pretty much playing nonstop in my house and car...Unless I’m listening to Hamilton...which is also constantly playing. So...there you go...My “Aesthetic”...Hope that works for you. 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
35. A Song That Sends Chills Down Your Spine: In the fall of 2018 I was dealing with the knowledge that my oldest son was planning to move to Florida. And I was NOT handling it well. To be honest...I still am not handling it well. I don’t like my baby being so far away and I miss seeing his face, hearing his voice, yelling at him to clean up after himself...I just miss him like I’d miss a limb. We’ve been together since I was 18 and he’s going to be 20 in a few weeks and so, I’m sure you can imagine, over half of my life has been spent loving him. My two boys are the air in my lungs and the blood in my veins. They are EVERYTHING to me and that’s not hyperbole. It’s FACT. So, the idea of him moving away from me made me feel like I’d done something wrong, something to chase him away. And I was listening to a random Jason Mraz playlist on Spotify when I heard a song of his that I’d never heard before (which, in itself was a fucking miracle). That song is God Rests In Reason (yes...another God song...sorry) and it’s lyrics were so utterly perfect for the way I was feeling that I had to literally pull over on the side of the road because I couldn’t see where I was going for the tears in my eyes. Those lyrics were: “Well your children will not be your children They are the daughters and the sons a beginning They'll come through your womb but not be coming from you They will be with you, but they do not belong to you You can give them your love but not your thoughts 'Cause they'll arrive with their own hearts They're the coming of angels this blessed season Undone they’ll sing, Oh how God rests in reason God rests in reason Isn’t reason enough to prove how God moves through you God rests in reason And thank God you can direct the course of love itself of love itself Directs the course of life Believe not God is your heart child But rather you’re in the Heart of God” And it just SPOKE to everything I felt. I’d been asking myself why my child, who I love beyond everything else, who I’d lay down and die for if he asked me to, would want to leave me. Why would he want to go so far away...and God answered with this song. Because Michael has his own heart...and his heart is pulling him to Florida. And in those moments I started to feel a measure of peace. And I started to cope a little better. I stopped crying and feeling like he was telling me I’d done something wrong, and I started being proud that I’d raised my son to feel strongly enough about his own intuition to follow his dreams and reach for the things he wanted in life. I still miss him. I still hate that he’s gone. But it’s eased. And when it threatens to suffocate me, I go to this song. I realize it isn’t spine tingling in the manner that this question probably meant...but it tingled my spine that a song I’d never heard, by an artist I adore and thought I’d heard everything from, shuffled through my phone at a time that I really needed the message in it. I hope that makes sense...and fills the request.
38. A Song That You Think Is Underrated: I really think pretty much everything Penny & Sparrow has done is horribly underrated. These two men deserve at least the same amount of accolades that Hozier has. And I’m sure Hozier would agree with me if he’d listened to their catalog. I’m never NOT going to promote these guys and I know y’all are tired of it but they mean a literal shit ton to me and I NEED everyone to know their music and recognize their brilliance. They’re better than Ryan Adams, and all the other sad bastards of folk...and they’re complete and total sweethearts who really give a damn about their fans. I will not rest until I’ve told the entire world about Andy Baxter and Kyle Jahnke and that’s that about that. You can find a playlist of their entire catalog of music songs here. I listed them in order of release...and I recommend listening to them that way. At least for the first listen. But be prepared to be hooked because they’re addictive.
50. Free Slot! Any Song You Want To Share: I feel like you just had me create a playlist for you...And I’m totally OK with it. But I can tell you that...the song Green Eyes by Joseph will be featured in a forthcoming work of mine...The chapter has already been written...I just need time to finish the chapters before it. I guess this is a spoiler for the fic...but it isn’t really because if you know anything about my #1 ship...you know where I want it to go...and this song, is perfect for it.
Goodness Kenz...I hope this was what you were expecting because I feel like I wrote you a book.
Thanks for asking me for all of these songs...You know I love talking about my favorite musics. And I hope there are some songs that you just fall in love with here. I’d love to hear about it if you do. Hope you’re well.
Love you!
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new proletarians
Alright, so I’m feeling a few things. I’m angry and confused at the world and my place in it, and I don’t want to lose sight of my heart. The reason that’s even on the table is that I feel—in a very real, day-to-day sense—the urge to just let it callous over with grey boogers, or whatever callouses over the hearts of Squidwards everywhere. Regular old life can do that to a devastating degree, but so can the usual suspects—things like real trauma and tragedy. I’d like to say I’ve experienced a little of both at this point in my young life, but I’m still fighting the calcification of my heart. Let’s hope that in just throwing my brain at the proverbial wall, some things stick that are worth sticking. Maybe my clarity can also be yours, reader. Maybe we can snuggle up with ourselves tonight, content that we know what the fuck is going on in the world, and smugly abstain from that which our friends could never imagine abstaining from, and which we’ve known we’ve needed to abstain from for decades. Whatever. It’s wordy. It’s a fucking blog, future me. They’re supposed to contain words. Also, maybe, if I’m writing a blog where the over 50% of the audience is myself, writing it is supposed to feel at least a little similar to masturbating.
Where to begin? Well, let’s start with this: I am a college-educated youth who attended what’s commonly referred to as the best public university in the world. I received a rolled up piece of paper symbolizing a degree on a stage with other students and professors a year and a half ago. So it’s recent. And right off the bat, in my young adulthood, I have a chip on my shoulder, having that big qualifier of “public.” I went to the world’s fanciest college... for the proletariat. What does that mean? For me, this brings to mind a lot of issues having to do with the distribution of wealth in the United States, in addition to what the hell is going on economically here and in the world—but that’s something to get into later. The more pressing issue is what the hell the role of a college-educated young person is today. DFW pretty succinctly laid out an idea of what that could be in his famous address. His point was basically that college (specifically, a liberal arts education) gives you the critical thinking skills necessary to be able to get through life under capitalism (or whatever you want to call the current regime) without going crazy. I think we can do better than that. Also, fuck it, I’m giving myself permission to be temporarily pissed off, because fuck that, dude. I know that rage isn’t always an indicator of fruitful conversation, but I gotta let some steam out somewhere. I’m sure that it’ll only lead to me being better down the line. God—I am pissed. About how we’re deciding to go about talking through issues we’re having as a society (on Twitter, but also in comments sections and in NY Times articles). I have so much anger, I’m just now realizing, and I need to process it without stupidly burning myself out on it. It’s a subject for later, and not what we’re talking about right now. Right now, we’re talking about the role of the college-educated youth today. I think we’re getting somewhere, too. I don’t think the role of the college-educated youth in today’s scenario is to correct their friends and families, nor is it to Tweet about how embarrassing, vulgar, or otherwise horrible stupid people are—however embarrassing, vulgar, or otherwise horrible they may be. The role, to me, has to do with learning this stuff. Learning about systems of power, systems of abuse (many of which hum merrily along in universities—looking at you, Searl. [My anger, you guide me, but you also lead me astray]).Staying ON POINT. The way it has to do with these things is that today’s C.E.Y. needs to notice them, understand them, then DO something about them. There are, for instance, things that we learn about privilege and prejudice in university that we may be tempted to hurl at our elders back home as insults. Our jobs, as young students, are to be sexy, fashionable, charismatic stewards of the new age. Instead of yelling at our parents about being racist, we should, say, intervene in a subtle way that guides rather than punishes. That preserves trust and connection in relationships while simultaneously doing our best to right centuries-old wrongs. But this is about so much more than that. Our role is about how we conduct ourselves as the nations intelligentsia. But that’s a question. I’m not answering it here, try as I might. I still don’t know how I feel about it. It stretches into all corners of life, this role. For instance, into several things in my life I’m mad about.
For instance, I kind of hate my closest loved ones. Oops. That’s where I’m at. Am I supposed to ignore these feelings? They’re there, they’ve been there, and if I know anything about our brains, it’s that feelings shouldn’t be ignored. That’s what dumb ass patriarchs think. The funniest/saddest part of that is that they, said dumb asses, tell themselves that suppressing their feelings is the manly thing to do. It’s honestly just the cowardly thing to do. Men are so afraid of confronting their feelings that they would rather go their entire life wearing a life three sizes too small than mention a thing about it. Anyway. They’re conditioned to feel this way by their surroundings. This—this is a great point that I would love to be a major takeaway here. The thing about being educated is that you’re aware of systems, that systems need to be changed. Fault the people who can change the systems, if anyone, but really, even they are just products of the system. The good thing is that, as a powerless mass of atomized society, we have been created by these systems knowing SOME things that are wrong with it. Now we, the crumbs of dust living in and created by the gargantuan grandfather clock of life, have the sentience necessary to band together and make switch out some gears. Picture a big hand of made of dust, fixing the clock. That’s us. That’s what the role of college educated students is today. But that’s not so much the point of this paragraph, so much is the fact that I kind of hate my closest loved ones—which feels so good to say. My best friends, for instance, are really rough individuals. One is an obvious, obnoxiously insecure, compulsive liar. He’s not super tall and weighs almost 300 pounds. It’s not nice to say this stuff, but the purpose of life isn’t to be nice about everybody all the time in your own head, or on your own anonymous blog. He alienates everyone I bring him around with his bizarre persona. His insecurity is so deep that I shit you not, almost a majority of the interactions I’ve had with him would very reasonably get a “come on,” response from anyone. He has to create little talking points to make his life feel acceptable. He’s one of those people who constantly refers conversations back to their insecurities, and how they feel so secure about them, for this reason and that reason. It’s like, Christ, man. Come on. I feel a lot more ways about this, but I’m a little scared he’ll see this some day. I’m worried he’s going to die young, because he is extremely overweight. His doctor said he’s a few months away from a heart attack/stroke unless he takes immediate action, which it seemed like he was taking initially, but it doesn’t really seem like it anymore. I don’t know. The whole situation feels extremely choked by our inability to just communicate with our fucking words. And yes, I am sounding angry, I’m not actually this angry, but consider these the bubbles from a can of soda that’s been shaken. What will be left is the only-slightly-bubbled soda. That’ll come soon. For now, there are bubbles. New paragraph.
The point that I was trying and failing to get to in the previous paragraph is that I don’t like this guy. He has a lot of great qualities, and he’s certainly not a bad person to have in one’s life—as in, he’ll never cheat on his spouse, and he’ll always go the extra mile for his friends in a certain sense. But I don’t. I wish I could just talk to him about this weird, bizarre, fucking deal breaking shit, but I just can’t. Our communication is choked. I don’t think it’s his fault, though. I think it’s to do with overlapping systems of culture that make it difficult. Maybe. Maybe that’s not the point here, and the real point is just that I feel stuck in that situation. Moving on.
(TW: sexual assault)
Another friend is a fucking bona fide sexual assaulter. He practically got #metoo’d, on a personal level. His gf broke up with him because he sexually assaulted the female half of their best-friend-couple. He fingered her while sharing a bed with her and his gf, for some confusing reason. We talked about it and he gave me this wordy, bizarre, incongruent tale of what happened. It involved a LOT of details and qualifiers. When I talked to the dude half of the couple, the guy who was (and still is) with the woman who got assaulted, he said that my friend just straight up did a ton of nonconsensual shit. He also said that when his gf told other people, more people came forward saying this guy had been creepy to other women in their friend circle. This friend absolutely has a history of gaslighting and successfully avoiding trouble by forcing his way. I need to talk to him, but again, fucking choked. I have no ability to have any kind of “real talk” with him. We do not have a venue, and the prospect of confrontation is absolutely debilitating to the average WASP-y dude. Which brings us to our next situation.
I have a great friend I met in undergrad. She is very well-liked, and while I definitely don’t agree with everything she thinks, I really value her friendship. Her boyfriend is a fucking nightmare. Not really, honestly. There are actual nightmare boyfriends. This boyfriend is more of a waking nightmare. The kind of nightmare that becomes worse because it’s so hard to call out. It just keeps going. I’ve kept CLOSE track, and every SINGLE time I’ve hung out with them as a couple, this guy crosses the line. He says condescending, mean, weird, bizarre, shit that... there’s just no better way to say it than he crosses a line that normal people don’t cross. I haven’t counted, but we’ve probably hung out close to 30 times. Every time it happens, every time I give him another chance. I got a little counseling about this situation from a friend’s mom, just in casual conversation, and her advice was to figure out what in me upset me about this guy. At that point, I realized that what Eric Andre said is true: advice is stupid. Also, that I am not going to run my life based on what this person, who I previously looked up to in a god-like way when it came to relationships, says. I am going to figure it out on my own, because it seems like everybody’s solution to relationship issues is to never talk about them, or to have some kind of inner-peace solution that makes getting abused not suck so bad (looking at you, DFW). Ugh. Okay. Moving on, again. Because yep, there’s so, so much more. Again, asking questions here, not answering them.
Also, if you’re reading this and thinking “damn, bro, your life is boring,” that’s my point. This is just normal life. These are just normal people. This is the water we’re swimming in. It’s fucking tense, man. Living in the United States is tense.
I’m running out of steam at this point, but God damn it. My brothers are dick holes. And we’re great friends. They are guys who don’t ever cause a fuss, avoid confrontation at all costs, and are nothing but rewarded for it. Sometimes I think I have something to learn from them in that regard. But is that really the life we want to live? Just don’t communicate your issues? It’s just frustrating. They act superior to others, but are categorically unable to have an honest, undiplomatic conversation. They act superior to others, and are treated as superior. It feels a little like talking to robots, talking to them, decoding what they’re saying to ascertain how they may actually be feeling in a given moment. I have no idea how they feel about me. Or anything. I don’t even think they know or care. I think they just get by, and they’re rewarded for it.
Alright, moving right along. My dad. Damn do I want to not talk to that guy. I can’t talk about anything real with him. It’s like playing ping pong where the other person can only hit the ball if it goes where his paddle already is, and his paddle’s made out of glass.
This is a sample of some real life issues I am dealing with, spoken as honestly as possible, as is evidenced by the rampant spelling and grammatical errors. College works into this as the thing that has given me recourse for dealing with this stuff. As a college educated youth, I can approach life in an informed, good way. This is life. Etc.
What am I walking away with? Well, I now know for sure that I have a lot of shit to work through. MAYBE more than one Tumblr post. Also, I guess I am proving that people still Tumbl in 2021. I am starting to really understand what the questions I have are. I think part of my issue stems from some feeling of being “out of the loop,” or having some natural, in-set outrage about not understand what’s going on, which was founded by years of being the same height as the people around me’s knees, being the youngest person in my family. Everyone around me were skyscraper people with adult conversations happening way up there. It’s a little imposter syndrome, I think, too. It comes from being the youngest, I think, too. Mixed with a natural sensitivity that I’ve noticed people like me have.
My goal is to get better at living my life. That involves understanding how I want to live, it involves understanding what my values really are, thinking through them a little, and more. I think it’s really worth it. In the meantime, I am not a work in progress. I am a fucking careful, cool, bright, talented guy who is not perfect, but is working on it. And I am going to postpone making any big decisions about my personal life until I get some clarity.
I thought I’d get more to the subject of the new proletarians, which is something I was thinking about today when listening to Harmontown and asking myself questions about what college is for if it just makes us unemployable, debt-ridden, twitter douchers. Anyway. We’ll get to it again sometime.
This was nice. Let’s do this again sometime.
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I remember telling you about the mice helper dream & Cinderella Will bit honestly Tangled but with willvis, charming theif Eugene=Travis,and Sunny Rapunzel with magic healing hair given by the sun=Will that is all (this is also my excuse to have Will with long hair)
Yes! Men with long hair are very nice!
ANd I’m sorry for taking so long to reply, exams and all ^^;
Tangled is actually one of my favorite Disney movies and idk I thought this up while studying for my exams last week. 5k fic under the cut!
child and animal abuse, anxiety, insecure!Will, animal death,
Changes: no friend like Pascal for Will, takes place during October and it’s snowing rather than in May, and I feel like Rapunzel and Will have two different mindsets when it comes to rule-breaking and what is acceptable so it won’t be 100% like the movie, sorry if that was what you wanted, Luke-Life ^^;
He’s born into the world, healthy and bright-eyed, snuggled in his mother’s arms and father’s embrace and brothers’ curiosity, all too soon taken away from the palace’s ground to an isolated tower.
He’s one and he’s walking by himself without help, waddling, clinging to his mother’s hands, to the furniture to the walls, walking in loops and loops and loops all over the tower, babbling halted at once under his mother’s annoyed groan.
He’s two and he can kinda/almost/nearly brush his hair on his own, but his hands are not wide enough to grab the handle and he so sorely wishes they are, just so Mother can stop doing this arduous task for him like she so often reminds him of.
He’s three and says his first sentence, the sentence his mother always sings while brushing his hair, flowers gleam and glow, let your power shine. It makes his mother particularly happy and he beams, wanting nothing more than his mother’s praises again.
He’s four and enamoured with singing, everything and anything, babbles and mumbles, fake and real words, but especially the song that makes his hair glows a pretty gold that chases away all the darkness.
He’s five and listens, raptured, as his mother tucks him in. “There are bad people out there, Will. People who will use your powers for evil. Promise me you will stay here. Promise me you won’t ever leave the tower,” she says and he smiles. He nods. He clings to his mother’s hand as she brushes his hair back and says, “I promise.”
He’s six and learning how to read. It’s really, really hard and mother gets increasingly more frustrated with him and starts calling him stupid, dimwit, slow. That part isn’t so fun, but what he is reading, what he is learning is fun and cool and he wants to read more! He wants to read everything!
He’s seven and learning how to sew, how to crochet, how to knit, how to draw, how to handwrite, how to play chess and checkers and poker and speed, how to make origami paper art, how to dance, how to wrap a bandage, how to write an autobiography, how to everything. He wants to learn how to do everything!
He’s eight and tries to be a good son, tries to cook dinner for his mother and him because he has nothing better to do and mother already does so much. But it all goes wrong. A fire starts. His mother appears from nowhere and puts it out and now he’s blinking back tears as mother yells at him, about how he nearly killed her, how he nearly burned his hair, how he hurt her and he’s sorry. He’s so sorry.
He’s nine and shaking as his mother yells at him and he doesn’t understand why she’s yelling, all he wanted was a book about history and no wait, he’s sorry, he didn’t mean to backtalk, don’t burn his books, wait wait wait wait don’t —
He’s ten and waving goodbye as his mother leaves to get food like she does everyday, leaving him alone with only pencils and brushes as company. He can’t… He doesn’t… No, shut up. You’re being ungrateful. But sometimes… sometimes he wonders if this is all his life will be.
He’s eleven and lonely.
He’s twelve and bored.
He’s thirteen and bored.
Fourteen. Bored.
Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Bored. Bored. Bored.
Then he’s eighteen and he’s panicking. For the first time ever, he is really, truly panicking.
It’s October and the first snow is falling. He had kept the window open because he doesn’t like the darkness and to his surprise and now growing horror, at the cave’s entrance is a man. Not well clothed for the winter storm but clothed enough for Will to know that is not his mother. His mother only has black cloaks and this man is wearing a white one. His mother has long, luscious black hair and this man has tufts of brown on his uncovered head.
Will watches, tucked under the balcony edge, as the man wander around in the snow slowly … slowly … slowly coming closer to his tower. What should he do? What should he do? Oh no, what should he do?
No, no. Calm down. Mother warned him about this. This was always a possibility. She had done her best but she couldn’t wipe the secrets of his hair’s magical powers from all of history. She said people might come for him and spins webs of lies to lure him out.
Today is that day.
Think, Will. The man hasn’t noticed you yet. Don’t let yourself be seen. You have time to think of what to do — oh god. The man is coming to the tower. He’s checking out the tower. He’s climbing the tower.
Oh no. Oh no. oh no oh no oh no ohnoohnoohnoohnonononononononoonnonono.
What should he do? What is he supposed to do? What did mother told him to do if this ever happened? Hide? Run? Scream? Hide and then escape? Drop an anvil down on the intruder’s head? The man is halfway up now. Make a decision. You’re running out of time.
Don’t panic, Will. Don’t panic.
Three fourths of the way up.
Time to panic. It’s time to panic.
He can hear the man now, his boots scruffing on the icy stone wall.
He’s out of time. Act now!
Just as the trespasser’s hand grips the window ledge, Will ducks into his closet… into… his very old… and very creaky closet. Not his brightest moment but there’s no time to find a new hiding spot. Hair bundled in one arm, Will closes the closet door with his free hand just as the man’s head pops up over the ledge.
There’s a grunt. A yelp as a body hits the floor. And joints cracking like someone is stretching.
The man is inside.
Oh my god someone is inside his tower.
He can’t breathe. He doesn’t dare breathe. He doesn’t dare move. Blood drums in his ears. His hands start to shake. Why didn’t he bring a weapon with him in here? His shearing scissors was right there. And so was his knitting sticks. Why didn’t he grab those? Why why why whywhywhyhwhywhywhy—
“Uh, hello?” the man says and Will nearly has a heart attack. He blindly thinks of what he has in his closet he can use as a weapon (hanger, scarves, shoes, a coat, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothingnothingnothing)
“Is anyone here?”
He hears boots scruff on his tile floor. The man is walking around now. Oh god please don’t check the closet. Please don’t. Please don’t. Please don’t. Please—
“I thought I saw someone up here. Sorry, I just have to ask a few questions and I’ll be on my way.”
Will swallows as he hears more boot scruffing.
“Please, this is kinda important. I’m at my wit’s end and I’m getting pretty desperate.”
His mind buzzes. The man… the man doesn’t sound like what mother described the outside world, greedy and mean and power hungry. The man almost sounds… scared, human even. No. This is a trick. It has to be a trick. They’re trying to lure him out. Don’t fall for their trick, Will. He’s smarter than that.
“Please is anyone here? Just a few questions, I swear. I’m not here to rob you or anything. I know it looks kinda bad, me entering without permission, but I promise it’s for a very good reason. Oh wow, I am definitely not making myself look any better.”
Will’s could feel his resolve quivering. The man sounds so sincere. He doesn’t sound like a bad person at all. Maybe mother was wrong and
A plate shatters and Will’s blood freezes over. Dangerous. He’s dangerous. You’re so stupid, Will, what were you about to do?
“Oh fudgesticks! I’m so sorry! I didn’t see that table there! Uh, um, hhhnn, I-I I’m really sorry. I….I … ”
The words tapered off, and Will presses himself closer to door, ears straining to pick up the words. He’s certain now. There’s pain laced in the man’s voice. Is he hurt? He is a bit too wordy to be hurt, but it could be shock making him act like this. No, Will. Think. This man climbed a 40 feet tower without help. He can’t be hurt.
“I…I… what am I doing? Look at yourself, Travis. Searching in random forests, breaking into random towers, and destroying private belongings. This is the quickest way to get arrested and hanged. Then who’s going to help Connor, huh? The town? I don’t think so. Mom and Dad? Not likely. You. Need. To. Get. Yourself. Together. And the first step in getting yourself together is self-reflection. And based on my self-reflection, I … I can’t believe I just entered into someone’s home without permission. Oh god, I really am getting desperate. What am I doing?”
Will bites his bottom lip. The man is hurt. Just not physically.
His hand presses against the door.
Don’t… whatever you’re about to do, don’t.
But the man is in pain. He can’t ignore someone in pain…
Mother will be furious.
Mother will understand. She’s always telling him everybody outside is horrible and selfish, but if he doesn’t help then doesn’t that make him a horrible person too? He’s supposed to be different.
He wants to be different.
What if it’s a trick? What if the man is lying?
Just a peek then. He’ll take a quick peek to see if the man is acting and Will pushes on the door just a tad. The hinges creak and he winces but there’s no voice, no boots scruffing, no noise and Will shifts to see through the crack.
The man — no, a boy, a boy around his age? — sits on the floor with his head buried in his hands, hunched over and defeated.
He doesn’t look dangerous, his mind supplies. He doesn’t seem to have any weapons on him. No knives, no machetes, no bows and arrows, but he does have a satchel and that could have a weapon. Other than that though, he seems safe. So what? You’re going to comfort a complete stranger who may, may not be here to kidnap you for your hair? Are you really that dumb? You’re really going to prove your mother right?
Will chews on his cheeks, stricken with doubt and paralyzed by his fear. Before he can decide on a course of action, the boy stands and Will can see his face for the first time.
He’s crying. The boy is crying and suddenly there’s fire running through his veins that’s not entirely panic.
Why are you crying? What’s wrong? I want to help you. Please don’t look so sad. Everything stays locked inside like it should, but Will hates how he couldn’t stop himself from pushing the closet door open more.
The boy runs a hand across his cheeks angrily, wiping away the tear tracks, before about-facing and walking to the open window.
He’s leaving now…
Why doesn’t that spark relief like it should?
Will tries to keep his eyes on the boy, but he lost his balance and now he’s falling out of his closet. His hands slap on the tile loudly to catch his fall and the boy definitely hears that. He spins around the same time Will raises his head and they lock eyes.
Fear, panic, self-hatred at his ineptness all course through him as he scrambles to his feet and backs away, tripping over his hair in the meanwhile. His mind is drawing a blank on what to say. He still doesn’t have a weapon. And when is Mother coming back?!
The boy stares at his face first and his hair second, and shit. Mother was right. The boy is here to steal his power for himself. He’s in trouble. Don’t go down without a fight. This is my hair. No one will use it unless I want them to.
The boy’s eyes widen in awe, but they’re more like those of a child — innocent and curious — with no hint of malice. He could be acting. He could be lying. Don’t be tricked.
“Woah. That’s… That’s a lot of hair. Way too much hair. How did you manage to fit all that inside that dinky, old closet? No, wait, how much shampoo and conditioner do you go through a month? Which company do you buy from? They probably don’t need any other customers thanks to you.”
“I don’t wash my hair.” Wow, his voice didn’t come out as shaky as he thought it would and wow, that was not what he meant to say.
The boy’s mouth turns upwards into an uncertain grin. “Uh, sure? Sorry, I came in uninvited. I did ask, but you didn’t say no.”
Will’s eyes narrows. “Asked? You didn’t asked. You just started climbing.”
“Well, at the bottom, I shouted if I could come up and you didn’t say no so…”
He did? Will wracks his brain, but he can’t remember much due to his panic. Don’t take his word for it.
Will takes a deep breath and steels himself. Don’t be afraid. “What do you want?”
The boy smiles wider, but still unsure. “Hi, my name is Travis.” And Travis holds out a hand for some reason.
Will stiffens, but the hand just remains between them, increasingly becoming more and more awkward until the hand drops back down to Travis’s side.
Travis coughs. “Okay, um, well, I was wondering if you have seen this yellow, glowing flower. It’s about yay big and this long and — ah, let me pull up a picture.” Travis is reaching into his satchel and Will’s breathing quickens. Blood roars in his ears. He sidesteps to the stool where he keeps his shearing scissors. When Travis pulls his hand out of his bag, Will pulls his scissors with him too and I’m not scared. I’m not scared. I’m not scared. I’m not scared. I’m not—
“Have you seen this flower?”
Travis is holding an unfurled scroll. Will blinks at the item, looking back to Travis, before going to the scroll again. Is he really not here for my hair?
Travis is patient as Will squints at the drawing on the parchment. It’s a flower with a great semblance to lilies, but nothing like the flowers his mother brings back with her. He shakes his head and the way Travis’s face fell hurts him more than he expected. He’s disappointed. You disappointed him. All our fault. All your fault.
“Oh, I see. I figured. That’s what most people say too. I’ll get out of your home now I guess.” And Travis is turning his back on him, defeated again.
And Will hates that. He can’t stand to see that.
“Wait.”
Wait? No! Leave! Go! Mother is going to kill him if she comes back to find him here!
Travis pauses and glances over his shoulder with eyes that’s so unfairly sad. Or maybe it’s just you’re so unfathomably weak, Will.
“My mother…” Will swallows, Stop, you can still stop now, and wets his mouth before proceeding. “My mother travels a lot. She might have seen the flower.”
It’s like flicking a switch. Travis stops hunching. The smile that follows is enough to blind him. Travis bounds back to him, laughing and smiling so hard it’s enough for Will to smile too.
“Really? This is incredible! You’re literally the first person I met who helped me! When can I meet her? Is she here right now?”
He talks fast, Will thinks. Because he has something to hide. Will slowly processes the barrage of questions and formulates the answer in his head. “She’s out right now. She doesn’t really like visitors,” he answers carefully.
Travis nods. “Oh yeah, I totally get it. Stranger danger, you know. All of that.”
“I don’t think you get it. You broke into my home,” Will deadpans and Travis frowns.
“Correction. Breaking in requires me unlocking a door or window. Your window, however, was wide open. So technically… I wasn’t breaking in.” Travis says with a beaming smile, shrugging. It’s hard to believe just moments ago, this guy was crying.
Think, Will. This guy can act. He’s tricking you. Push him out of the tower.
Will swallows and slips his scissors into pockets. “You should leave before my mother comes back.”
Again, that crestfallen face. Will fights the urge to change his mind. “I’ll ask her tonight. Let me look at it again and around midnight, you can come—”
“Ohhhhh, Will!”
No.
“Let down your hair!”
No! It’s too early! Why is she back so early?
“Is that her?” Travis asks excitedly. “I can talk with her now!”
Travis starts to run towards the window and without thinking, Will grabs Travis’s clothed wrist and pulls him back. Travis yelps and loses his balance. Will catches him, but he didn’t let go of the wrist and Travis didn’t pull away.
Instead Travis turns around slowly, delicately and his face is far too worried for Will’s liking.
“You can’t talk with her. She… She doesn’t— ” His mother’s enraged face from seven years ago pops into mind, her pulling the cat out of his arms, her hurling the cat out the window, Ms. Fluffy’s screeching ending abruptly, and his mother brushing his tears aside with a thumb and murmuring, I had to do it, Will. That cat could have been a spy. You were in danger, and even though he understands, it hurts all the same.
Will closes his eyes and shakes his head. Get over it, Will. It’s been years.
When he opens his eyes again, he finds Travis no longer smiling.
“I’m fine,” he continues, “My mother really don’t like strangers. Go hide in my room and don’t let her know you’re here. It’s at the very top of the stairs.”
When Travis hesitates, Will pushes him forward and hissing to go. Travis looks back one more time before rushing off and Will can’t help but notice that as he’s running up the wooden staircase, his steps are silent.
He can’t dwell on that for too long. Mother is probably getting antsy and — his excuse. What is his excuse for taking so long? Come on, Will. Think. Think. Think. Think.
“Will? Are you alright?” his mother shouts, and the lack of her usual casualness tells him she’s suspicious. He can’t waste any time. Lie on the spot. You can do it, Will.
“Coming,” Will shouts, before running to the window ledge. He tosses his hair over the hook and lets his hair drop to the ground. As soon as mother looped his hair and stepped on, Will pulls slowly, praying Travis has now hidden himself.
He pulls and pulls and pulls, just like he does everyday. He pulls and pulls and pulls, praying he’s close now just like he does every day.
A few tugs and this arduous task will finally be over.
few. More. Tugs.
A few more. Tugs.
Just. A. Few More.
Almost there.
He can see the curly hair of his mother. He can see her forehead now. Her neck. The cloak.
Almost.
Oh god.
He does this everyday. Why doesn’t it become easier?
When mother finally stepped onto the balcony, Will lets go of his hair and pants from the exertion. His arms burn, his shoulders ache, and seriously? Why hasn’t he built up muscle mass from this yet?
“Oh, Will,” mother says, sweeping her arms out of her cloak for a hug, “What took you so long? Your mummy was getting cold.”
“Sorry,” he gasps, stepping forward to hug her back, “I was— I was— I was—” THINK, WILL! “Napping. I was napping.”
Will winces at his lie, but his mother has already swept past him to hang up her cloak. “No amount of sleep is ever going to get rid of those eyebags, my dear. You look positively horrendous. I’m joking, Will. I ‘wuv you so very much.”
A hand is pinching his cheeks way too hard and it leaves just as abruptly. Will rubs his cheeks, wincing as he repeats back, “I love you too, mother.”
As per usual, his mother goes straight to the mirror as he takes her picnic basket to the dining table to sort through the groceries. It’s a lot of vegetables, as to be expected. Plus some of the color pencils and paint he asked for. She didn’t have to get you these but she did. Because she loves you and look at you here, disobeying her wishes and lying straight to her face. You’re such a great person.
A hand touches his shoulder and Will jumps, spinning around to find Mother no longer by the mirror but behind him and looking very, very concerned.
“Yes, mother?” he says, cursing the way his voice squeaks.
His mother’s eyes narrow. “I was calling you, Will.”
“You were? Why? What’s the matter? How can I help you?” shut up shut up SHUT UP SHUT UP. You’re making it so much worse!
“I was going to ask you to sing for me.”
“Sure! I can do that right now!”
And Mother frowns. “But now I think you’re hiding something from me.”
She’s on to him. It’s all over. She’s going to find Travis. She’s going to toss him out the tower. He’s going to die. And it will be because of him.
“Will?”
Will snaps to attention and smiles wider, brighter, and shakes his head. “Me? Hide something from you? No! Never! I’m always h-honest with you, mother!”
Mother crosses her arms. “Will.”
“Really! I’m telling the tr-truth.”
“Will.”
And Will’s heart quickens at the rise in her tone. He walks to the other side of the room to put the fruits away. “No, really. I’m not hiding anything.”
“Will.”
He shoves the apples into the basket with the other apples. “Just go sit down and I’ll be right over.”
“Will.”
He hangs the banana up on the rack, unable to keep his hands from twitching. “Sorry, if my voice is scratchy. I was singing earlier and I may have had a little too much fun.”
“Will.”
He tries to rearrange the fruits section but just knocks over the landscape portrait he drew last month. “My bad. Sorry. You know how I am. I’m so clumsy and ahahahaha!”
“Will!”
And WIll freezes. His cheeks flare. He takes a deep breath before turning around to his scowling mother.
“You’re lying to me.”
His head buzzes.
No, I’m not.
His head lowers. “Yes, I am. I’m sorry.”
His mother strides forward and Will flinches, wanting nothing more to pull back but you did this. You dug your own grave when you hide the man now lay in it.
A hand cups his cheek while the other pats his head. When his mother speaks, it’s soft and kind, not brash like he expected it to be.
“Oh, Will. You can tell me anything. You know that.”
I do. I do. But I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t tell you this.
“What are you hiding from me?”
“I— I — I—” His eyes dart around the room, searching for something, anything, to save him.
The hand on his cheek tightens. “Will? What are you hiding?” Now that tone isn’t too happy and his mind is blanking. He can’t think of anything to say but the truth. But he can’t just say the truth. There’s no way out. She’ll hurt him. All for the better. Where are the solutions? There’s no solutions. He doesn’t want anyone to be hurt. Should have thought of that earlier. Think!
Then out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Travis’s face. He sees Travis’s face. Peeking from his room. And holy shit, why isn’t he HIDING?!
“Will! Stop thinking and tell me!” his mother yells and he points towards his room by mistake. Travis ducks back inside, but it’s too late. The curtains shifts from his actions and mother saw that. Will watches the cogs turn in his mother’s head. He watches her expression turn ice-cold, murderous even. He watches her pull a dagger from her belt. And he watches her climb the stairs.
He starts to follow, but a hand and a glare stops him.
‘Stay here,’ she mouths and Will watches helpless as mother tiptoes up the stairs. She isn’t as silent as Travis but still quiet enough. He hopes its enough to warn Travis — wait, Travis is a home intruder. Why is he praying for his safety?
On the last step, it creaks loudly and mother makes a face. She grips her knife tighter and faster then he thinks possible, she darts inside.
He stops breathing, waiting, waiting… waiting for what? A fight? Travis screaming in pain? His mother yelling? Travis running out? Instead all he has is silence and it’s awful, heart-stopping even. Eons must have passed before the curtains is pushed aside and his mother steps out, her knife still glistering white.
She holds up a … a… a … is that a tortoise? Oh no, is that Travis’s pet?
Mother puts a hand on her waist. “Will, what is this?” she asks in contempt.
“ A tortoise,” he squeaks, heart pounding.
“Yes I see that. I’m not blind, but how did it got inside the tower?” Mother says, rolling her eyes.
“I saw it in the gr-grass, snow I mean! I was worried it was lost and that it might die so… so I let down my hair. it grabbed on and I… I…” Will trails off, tears filling his eyes as his mother is stepping down the stairs and going to the window. She’s going to toss the tortoise out the window, he realizes. She’s going to kill it.
“I thought we talked about this, WIll. You can’t bring in stray animals. They could be spies. They could relay information to your enemies. And when they come here, I would have to take care of it and mummy would get hurt, all because you had to be selfish. Do you understand?”
All your fault… tell her… Travis is still here… but…but Travis haven’t done anything wrong. Travis didn’t hurt him or mother.
He nods and watches with clenched hands as his mother walks to the window, undo the latches, and hurls the tortoise out.
The window is pulled shut.
Mother tries to comfort him, spinning sweet words of how it was all for him (it’s your fault) and how she didn’t want to do this (you force her to) and how she didn’t have a choice (she loves you).
His mother left for her private quarters, the room under the staircase, leaving him alone. As soon as her door shuts, Will lunges for the balcony and opens the window. He doesn’t know why he checks. Tortoises can’t fly, but maybe… maybe this one can! Maybe… maybe… please, maybe. There’s no bloody splat on the snow. Maybe! Maybe maybe maybe! Maybe this tortoise can—
“Oh boy, was that intense,” a boy’s voice says directly behind him and Will yelps, spinning around to find Travis out in the open and no no no no no.
“You have to hide!” he hisses, pushing Travis back up the stairs and glancing at his mother’s still closed door. Any moment, she can come back out and then Travis would … would… die? Would his mother kill another human? She killed an animal without remorse. She can kill a human.
Travis plants his feet. “I have to check on Hermes.”
Will pauses. “Hermes?”
Travis smiles and, it’s too relaxed, too lax for this situation. “My pet tortoise your dear mother tossed out the window.”
Tears brim in his eyes. If Travis got upset about having to leave and come back later, he can’t imagine what his reaction will be now. You should have stopped mother. You should have tried rather than just stand there and let it happen. There’s no excuses for what just happen.
“I… I’m sorry.” Why is his voice hiccuping? Stop that. Mother hates it when you do that. Travis will too. Stop, stop, stop, why won’t it stop? “I’m sorry I killed your tortoise. I’m sorry I couldn’t save him. I’m sorry I—”
“Hey,” Travis says softly and there’s hands on his shoulder — the first person other than mother to ever touch him and it’s gentle, way more gentle than any of mother’s affection and just as comforting.
“It’s okay. Look at me. You didn’t — your mother didn’t kill him. I made Hermes a little parachute. Here, follow me to the window.” And Travis is holding his hand now, leading him to the balcony and pointing to the ground. “Do you see? The parachute is white so it kinda blends in with the snow, but can you see where the color is offset by a little bit?”
Will can see it and a modicum of relief fills him. It’s quickly overshadowed though by his littlest knowledge of animal welfare.
“How long can tortoises stay in the snow? They’re desert creatures, aren’t they” Will whispers, watching the tortoises land safely on the snow. Immediately, the tortoise stands and burrows into the parachute.
Travis shrugs.
“I don’t know. Probably not that long, but Hermes is a fighter. Did you know this little guy survived a raven trying to eat him? But, yeah, the cold can’t be good for him. I’m going to go fetch him right now. Also I can’t help but notice that you, uh, aren’t very good at lying. Your fumbling back there almost made me weep,” Travis smirks, running a hand through his hair, still looking entirely too much at ease in spite of the situation.
“I-I-I never had a need to lie!” he hisses, hating how his cheeks flare and his insides burn.
Travis chuckles and step onto the balcony, pulling out two ice picks from his satchel. Weapons. He had weapons. But he didn’t use them.
“You should learn how to lie. Lying is very useful. It has gotten me out of many situations before.”
“I don’t need to get out of situations.”
“Then what was that fight just now with your mother?”
“That wasn’t… that isn’t… that’s not our norm,” Will stammers, “Normally I tell her everything. There’s never been any need for me to lie or hide secrets.”
Travis pauses, eyes raised to meet his. “Because… you’re always here?”
“Yes.”
“She sure… have a tight leash on you,” Travis says with a raised eyebrow. It takes maybe ten seconds for Will to recognize that as worry. Travis is worried for him. They barely know each other and someone is worried for him.
Is this warmth filling his chest normal?
Unconsciously, Will pushes a hand through his hair. “She has reasons to.”
“Right. I bet she does.” Travis doesn’t sound convinced as he digs his ice picks into the stone walls and situates himself against the stone, but he’s not climbing down yet. Instead Travis asks, “When should I come back?”
“You want to come back?” Will says flabbergasted, “Even with what just happened with my mother and your tortoise?”
Travis shrugs, a really unsafe move, and grins. “Well, yeah. I need you to ask about the flower and also you’re really fun to talk too, so when can I come back?”
Will wracks his brain. His mother’s bedtime varies. Sometimes she’s in bed before midnight. Sometimes she’s in bed by 4 in the morning. And — wait, he said I was fun to talk to? He said I was FUN to talk to?! Fun? FUN!
Travis’s foot slips. Will lunges for him, but Travis didn’t fall any further than a few inches. And remarkably, Travis laughs, quietly, but still a laugh and it’s such a sweet sound, so free-spirited, so carefree, despite being 40 feet above the ground.
“I’ll come back tomorrow. Does an hour earlier work?”
“Come back two hours earlier, at noon. My mother usually leaves by eleven.” What are you doing?
Travis smiles and winks. “See you then. Learn to lie and live a little until then.”
And Will watches Travis climbs down, slipping sometimes but never stopping to catch his breath. He waves from the bottom and Will waves back. Travis picks up Hermes, tucks the tortoise into his cloak, and at the cave entrance, waved one more time before disappearing.
The snow covers his tracks in minutes and just like that, it’s like nobody was ever there.
Will giggles. He laughs. He bellows into his empty tower, not believing this just happen, not believing he made contact with the outside world, not believing his mother was wrong about the world, not believing he lied to his mother for the first time ever, not believing this actually slipped past his ever diligent mother, and not believing this is going to happen again.
He’s 18 when he met Travis.
He’s 18 when this all started.
He’s 18 when everything changed.
This is how his life began.
#travis stoll#will solace#willvis#fanfiction#tangled AU#I'm weak#for both tangled and for willvis#:(#also not really edited yet ^^; sorry
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Yugioh S4 Ep6: Gozaburo Kaiba Just Casually Started WWIII And Only This One Guy Cares
Welcome to November, where we celebrate writing a 50,000 word book as if I don’t do that every single time I write about an episode of Yugioh. Hello, this is my season. It’s wordy season. I’m so freakin good at doing this. I can’t say most of what I’ve made is any good, but I CAN say at least I’m prolific. Do enough content to fill that bitter pit and walk right over it, that’s been my motto for the past 5 years.
Anyway, I had an awful flu this past week. (Everyone I live with had it so every bathroom was like ground zero) It was SO bad. I still can’t eat spicy food over a week later (Which is so hard for me because usually I can keep up with my Indian friends, that’s my spicy level--max spicy, please--but since this illness, my white taste genes went into overdrive and I tried putting pepperoncini slices in my sandwich and it set my mouth on fire. Pepperoncini. It’s v embarrassing.)
I did attempt to write this post. Unfortunately I never made it past this cap because I got VERY distracted by the emblem on Alister’s face, and how it isn’t proportionally adjusted to match the angle of his face, and it was like three paragraphs of just wanting to talk about it. And then at some point I got very distracted talking about how many empty glasses I was given at my place setting at this baby shower I went to during the flu epidemic, and it mattered a whole lot to me at the time, but I think, overall, was mostly just some sort of nonsense. The things I’ve spared you.
(bro has just informed me that the 4 gold-lipped crystal goblets I was given at this baby shower was actually very distressing and a very big deal and that I should absolutely talk to at least someone about it, but maybe he’s just saying that to make me feel better, but I have no idea. I am too sick for sarcasm at this time but my god why was I given so many glasses????)
I straight up have no memory of if I’ve made this joke before. Maybe.
(read more under the cut)
Since it feels like 8 years since the last time I could just eat chicken without feeling like I consumed an entire Thanksgiving meal, a little recap:
-Alister pretended he was Pegasus to lure Kaiba and then, off screen, murdered everyone in Pegasus’ castle
-Pegasus got murdered by I’m pretty sure Mai (which is like...OK then...)
-Yugi and Co went on vacation by driving directly through San Francisco and peeking out the window and saying “yeah that’s enough for me”
-No adults, not even Roland, bothered to come with their kids this time, so the only adult of the entire crew--Pegasus--is dead
-Rex and Weevil are luggage
-The Eye of Sauron showed up and it was the end of the world but Yugi threw a dragon at it so I guess everything is OK now
-Monsters are real but they are hard to animate so we’ll just pretend like they’re causing havoc everywhere although most of the planet seems basically unaffected by this.
-The Grim Reaper is a friendly monster that hangs out in a Japanese park and that feels fairly on brand.
And I think that was all that was happening so far.
In a weird twist of fate, Mokuba is the only one in this room that isn’t trapped which sort of...if you’re the only one NOT kidnapped wouldn’t that also be a type of being kidnapped?
And we finally get to figure out why Alister wants to Murder Kaiba so bad and, spoiler, it reaches.
???
I’m gonna get more to the obvious problems with Alister’s devotion to murdering all the Kaibas in a bit but yes, Alister is in fact going to try and Kill Kaiba on this kid’s show because of Kaiba’s Dad, who is such a horrible and abusive person that Kaiba essentially drove the bastard out of Japan and straight to the bottom of the ocean.
Just kinda feels like Alister has been living under a rock...which, I guess he has been. He has been living in some weird Atlantis structure so I guess he never got the memo that Gozaburo Kaiba is hella dead.
So that’s what they’re up to. How’s Sausalito?
Um.
Huh.
So the North Bay is a really classic scenery. It’s rolling hills. It’s NAPA. It’s like...definitely not Arizona. California has a couple of mesas but they’re no where near here and the Monument Valley style Mesas really only exist in Monument Valley.
And I know it’s because the background artist for Yugioh is all horny for horny rock structures but like...this couldn’t be farther from the Bay Area in the way that it is drawn and it is such a shock after all the work they did last episode to research that Bay Area lore. Once they crossed the Golden Gate they were like “well no one will care about this part” which is true not only of Yugioh but also of real life Californian politics.
Anyway, I have been making a map, but unfortunately my original file will not suffice. time to fix it.
There we go. Now they’re in the right place. Just smack dab in Monument Valley, Arizona, smack dab in the middle of the Navajo Nation and so hypothetically, not even in the United States anymore.
While in the car, Yugi has just been anxious as hell the entire time, and just going “y’all I have a bad feeling I’m uncomfortable I have a bad feeling” while Joey and Tea just patiently stared at him flipping out in the corner. So...kinda like a normal trip with someone who has high anxiety/possessed by a ghost. I kinda feel like this is every girls trip to Disneyland for me. There’s always one Yugi who’s like “no one said anything about CROWDS.” and you kinda just gotta let them do their thing. Just let them get it out of their system and hide in the bathroom when they need to hide in the bathroom and don’t fight it, they’ll be fine. Just hold their spot in line when they desperately look for a secret place to medicinally vape because there’s too many freakin children at Disneyland.
And it is HILARIOUS that Yugi is able to have this type of premonition but cannot figure out that they have somehow missed San Fransisco and have wandered into a DESERT.
Back in Pegasus’ California (an island that legitimately looks more like California than actual Yugioh California) Alister has decided to go completely off the rails and it happens so fast and without any warning.
the line is actually “This doll used to be my brother’s” which is a very different meaning but both are likely from weird ass Alister and this weird ass show, so I’ll leave the cap like this (although yes, this is what I thought Alister was saying for kind of a while until I recorded it for this blog and was like “oh shoot I heard the line wrong when I had the flu huh.”)
Man, RIP Noah, he would have been excellent this episode.
Honestly seems like just yesterday when Seto and Noah were pitted against eachother by a cyberdemon Dad-head floating in the sky, Mokuba was possessed for some reason and being used as a human shield, Tristan was a robot monkey, and Yugi was just shrugging at Kaiba from across the field like “Kaiba if you don’t play good you die--oh my gods, he died. Well that was bound to happen...again.” Man.
Alister should be their best friend, this is nonsense.
So lets do the math to 7 years before 2002.
I searched Wikipedia for wars during 1995 (they do have a list of 90′s wars) and looked for any that involved heavy use of tanks and their artillery fire (on big swatches of cities like this), inner city western architecture, temperate landscapes, and western clothing that match Alister and Mikey (AKA WWII vibes) and found out:
Nothing fits that description
UNLESS Alister and Mikey are time travelers from a WWII bombing in Europe. This is Yugioh. That could happen. Probably not, but youknow...it’s not too late for Yugioh to bring in time travel.
I mean if you don’t want to get super political in your cartoon just invent a world war I guess? We’ve already clarified that Gozaburo was Big Boss, so at this point I can easily see him inventing wars just to sell ships.
(I could probably add thousands of more deaths at this point but I have no idea where they are, if they’re on a tiny island or an entire country so I’ll just...leave the count alone but just now it’s implied that a hell ton of people died during this episode)
People going off about how Sesame Street is so amazing for talking about issues like you’re Dad going to prison while Yugioh was straight up talking about the intricacy of the War Economy. Yugioh being all “don’t forget kids, your good capitalist economy survives off of the undeserved bloodshed of civilians in other countries! Eat the poor!” and it’s like hot damn this heavy commentary came out of freakin no where.
Anyways, this is stuff most kid’s shows will delicately skip over but nah, Yugioh is going to go here, and they are going to steamroll directly through it with massive tanks.
So, lets kill this kid’s entire family and talk about the terrors of the World War of 1995 and all the war orphans who get recruited to become soldiers at the ripe old age of 9. Alister was 9 when he was recruited to be a child card soldier.
This kid’s show.
Alister is...basically Raiden, right? Like as long as we’re talking about Metal Gear, this kid is just one step away from cyborg implants and weird colored blood?
Better wear bright red when you visit the war crime scene, surprised Gozaburo didn’t invite like an entire photo -op crew to incriminate him even further.
Now we did look up “where the hell is Alister from Yugioh from?” (there is no answer) and we did find out a little factoid. In the Japanese version of the show, Gozaburo had bought the land and was just forcibly evicting Alister and his family from their home with tanks.
Which is wild.
He just straight up evicted an entire metropolitan city????
Like the dub did a way better job than the sub at this one, I’ll give them that.
It’s just so weird that Gozoboro just didn’t like...raise the rent like a normal bad landlord. Instead he was like “rather than gentrify my land and save me a ton of money, I’ll just destroy everything I just bought and murder everyone here” which is like...
...Seto did the world so many favors when he kicked out his Dad, right? Like Damn. I don't understand why Alister isn’t freakin worshiping Seto right now when his whole deal is “I must kill Gozaburo” and Seto’s like “yo I already did that. Twice. I didn’t even have to literally kill him either, I just embarrassed him so bad that he killed himself. His stupid tank company sells joke games now. I literally turned the man into a joke.”
Then again, Alister is on the green magic and like I think it alters your brain chemistry somewhat.
(How ripped did Alister get in this episode, by the way? The kid is like 16 years old or something so how did this happen? ...The perpetual horny line running straight through Yugioh, man. Look at it run. That 16 year old is drawn like he’s 28 and really into Crossfit and his crop top gets smaller and smaller like every scene.)
So like this is a very gray issue that I cannot believe they brought up in a kid’s show (like can you imagine if Scrooge McDuck had to face facts that his company murdered tons of people???), but also this is Seto Kaiba. Seto grew up in the system, so like he doesn’t need to be lectured to about dirty money because he was on the losing end of that not too long ago. Seto is himself basically a upscale war orphan since he was adopted by Gozaburo to continue the machine like a freakin maniac (a Solidus Snake, if you will) so of all the people on this show I don’t get why Seto would care about this. This is just how Seto views the entire world as either losing or winning and no reason to feel bad about it because he’s been both.
Also...Seto stopped the machine. Kind of. He was unaware that cards were the same thing as weapons, but at least he stopped the sale of huge child-stealing tanks.
So they play the game for a little while and Seto does kind of poorly as usual, and just when I thought this episode couldn’t get any weirder...
And just like that, Seto peaces out. Like he does almost every single time he has ever played a card game solo except for that one time he was playing Joey Wheeler. (Which was also one of the few times Seto ever won.)
Like I just want to remind you that this segment is in the same episode as WWIII and the tonal whiplash is pretty remarkable.
That’s right, we’re back in the Unnamed Monster World, which is not the Shadow Realm, and which I thought you could only access if you were dreaming and able to search through the puzzle maze.
Apparently this can just happen at any time and all that stuff with the guiding Kuriboh and Yugi and Pharaoh trying to find this place was just...them wasting time.
Again he ditches the legendary sword so freakin fast because who needs a sword when you have a dragon? Only this anime.
And that’s how Seto, who was absolutely going to lose this game, somehow just barely came to a draw.
So just to recap, Seto has yet to win a card game that he didn’t get prophetic help for via a hallucination or Yugi telling him what to do. Unless you count Joey and grandpa.
Then, the one last adult I forgot about, the driver of Yugi’s car, decides that it’s about time that he also died and left this show as adult free as possible.
THE HELL ARE THEY?
Also...maybe it’s the angle but the writing on that gas station looks a lot like kanji.
Yo, what if this is the backgrounds for a different show and they’re just sharing? I mean I doubt it because Yugioh had a good enough budget but...what if? What if that’s why they’re in Arizona?
Anyway, next time we’ll find out if this guy just drops dead or has been a Yugioh monster this whole time, and I think maybe both?
And if you just got here, this is a link to read all my Yugioh recaps in chrono order
#yugioh#ygo#photo recap#episode recap#yugi muto#seto kaiba#mokuba#alister#joey wheeler#tea gardner#tristan taylor#Arizona
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Red: ch 4 Anger
This story is also posted on Ao3
Ladybug and Chat Noir have a chat, and it doesn't go well according to Ladybug.
Warning: mentions of self harm
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Chloé was up out of bed and to the doors before Marinette could stop her. The blonde through the doors open and yelled at whoever it was before she registered who they were. “What the hell do you want? We’re trying to sleep!”
“Chloé?”
“Chat Noir? What the hell are you doing here?”
“I was uh, checking up on Marinette.”
“Do you do that often?” Chloé raised and eyebrow and crossed her arms.
“Yeah, actually. What are you doing here?” The hero asked, looking confused.
“Well as you know, I am Queen Bee, and I want to deserve my title as a hero so I am trying to be nicer. And what better way to do that then be a friend to Marinette when she has none.”
“She doesn’t have none!” Chat Noir blanched.
“You and Ladybug don’t count. I’m talking about people who aren’t just heroes.”
“Well, what about Alya?” Chat Noir asked, before quickly adding on. “You know, the Ladyblog girl?”
“She abandoned Marinette along with the rest of the class. She, Lahiffe and Adrien are the worst offenders.”
“What? Adrien? That can’t be right.” Chat tried defending the model. But that just made Chloé scoff.
“Look, he doesn’t seem to care about Dupain-Cheng. All her friends have abandoned her, the new girl is practically torturing her emotionally, and Adrien is just watching at the sidelines, knowing something is wrong and doing nothing.”
“No he’s- But he wouldn’t- He would help!”
“Look, I’ve known Adrien since we were kids. Maybe you two are friends, but not as long we’ve known each other.”
Chat stared at Chloé for a while before getting ready to leave. “I’m just going to… go out on patrol.”
With that, the cat hero left and Chloé shut the doors. “Ugh! I can’t believe he was defending Adrien!”
Marinette had a sympathetic look. “He doesn’t know the full story, especially if he only knows it from Adrien.”
“Marinette, if Chat is going on patrol, maybe we should join him.” Tikki said as she came out from her hiding place.
“Right. You don’t mind, do you Chloé?”
“As long as you tell me what happens, no, I don’t.”
Marinette nodded. “That would be nice. Normally I can only talk with Tikki about it. Having someone else will be a nice change of pace.”
“Glad to help I guess, now get out there.”
Marinette nodded and turned towards the balcony before turning back and giving Chloé a hug. The blonde was shocked for a few moments before reluctantly hugging back. Then Marinette pulled away and faced the balcony again. “Tikki! Spots on!”
Chloé shielded her eyes as the transformation actually was pretty bright. By the time she looked again, Marinette was replaced by Ladybug, as she left the room to the balcony before throwing her yo-yo and repelling away.
Being alone gave Chloé time to plan a way to reveal Lila’s lies. She and Marinette had enough connections to try and prove the lies, like both of them knew Jagged Stone. There was also the possibility of luring Lila into a lie that was impossible, such as her ‘helping’ to create something that’s been around longer than her.
Chloé pulled out her phone and soon started making a list of various ways to call out Lila, but one just drew her in. Alya claimed to be a reporter, but only because she’s the most popular Ladybug news reporter. Even then it was because of her interview, which Marinette must have given her since they were friends. Besides that, no one else really went in depth with Ladybug news. But now that someone personally knew Ladybug… oh this would be perfect.
The blonde created a new note specifically for making her own Ladybug website. Everything was planned out. Well, everything except the name. Ladyblog was taken, so what would it be? Scarlet Letter? Ew, no, that’s a book. Red is the new Black? Too wordy. Ladybugout? No, that sounds too familiar, so likely that was already used. On the Dot? Oh maybe! On the Spot. The Spot?
Then it came to her and she quickly typed it down. Spot-light. Focused on Ladybug, putting her in the spotlight and ladybugs have spots. The hyphen just helps put emphasis on the spot part of the title. She couldn’t wait to tell Marinette when she got back.
Fortunately, Chloé didn’t have to wait long as not even a minute later, she came back and detransformed. “Marinette! You’re back! I was just hoping you would show up and- what happened?”
Chloé had started to talk but the moment she saw the look on Marinette’s face she stopped. Something had happened during the patrol, and it definitely wasn’t something good.
“It was Chat…”
“Tell me everything, right now.” Chloé said as she pulled Marinette to the bed.
“Oh, good evening Bugaboo.”
“Hello Chat.”
“I wasn’t sure if you would grace me with your presence but apparently I lucked out.”
“Good for you Chat.”
“You don’t sound as happy as you normally do M’Lady. Is something wrong?”
“No, if anything things have gotten better. Things in my regular life haven’t been the best. A number of my friends have basically abandoned me for someone else with more extravagant tales. It’s really brought down my self esteem. But now I’ve got someone again. Well, someone else other than you Kitty.”
“Oh really? And is it the boy you like that you always talk about?”
“No actually. He’s also someone who turned on me. He said he would be there for me as a friend and he did nothing. I can't believe I would love someone like him.”
“Is that so. Well if you don’t love him anymore, maybe we can finally be a thing?”
“...”
“Well you said you don’t like him and-”
“I can’t believe you!”
“M’Lady?”
“Chat, I’m having a horrible time of my life. I’ve been hanging on by a thread. The one reason… The one reason I’m still around is because of my duty to this city. That’s how bad it’s gotten. Being Ladybug is the only reason I didn’t feel the reason to do more than I did!”
“You… M’Lady, did you hurt yourself?”
“Maybe I did. And you pushing me to be in a relationship after I just fell out of love isn’t helping. I need time to recover, not you forcing yourself into my life even more.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Maybe I won’t later, but I do right now! I’m at my wit’s end and you aren’t helping matters. And speaking of your want to be in a romantic relationship, I don’t like the flirting. Banter is okay, but flirting is pushing it. Then so many times you sacrifice yourself to the akuma villain when I’m in danger but it would be so much better if neither of us were hit. Yes, I realize I’m needed to purify the akuma, but we know that just breaking the object stops the direct of the akuma.”
“Really?”
“Yes! Remember the first time we faced Stone heart? I didn’t catch the akuma or bring the miraculous ladybugs.”
“Well we were new then.”
“Well back then, you were reckless and didn’t listen to those who know better, and you’re still like that! I mean, remember Syren? You were willing to let people die because I wouldn’t tell you a secret that wasn’t mine to tell! You always put yourself first instead of me or the people of Paris unless it’s keeping me safe. And that’s only because you want me! And more like I’m a thing rather than a person! You need to take being a superhero more seriously. It’s not just some game. Lives are at stake!”
“...”
“Look Kitty, from now on, until I say otherwise. Let’s just keep this completely professional. I’m not sure I can deal with everything going on if we don’t. And if that happens, you may find yourself working with a new Ladybug.”
“That would go over Purr-ly with me.”
“...I’ll see you tomorrow for patrol.”
“Wait! M’Lady! Don’t g-”
“And that’s the last thing I was able to hear.” Marinette finished her story.
“That cat is a jerk!” Chloé exclaimed. “You’re having a hard enough time with the class, you don’t need him making things worse!”
“I still can’t believe I yelled at him like that.” Marinette put her face in her hands.
“He deserved it! You’ve let him do what he wants whenever he wants it. You need to stand up to him so he’ll finally change! It’s time to put your foot down!”
“I guess you’re right Chloé.” Marinette nodded.
“Of course I’m right.” Chloé put her hands on her hips. “Now, there’s something else I want to talk about with you."
#miraculous ladybug#tw self harm#marinette dupain cheng#chloe bourgeois#chat noir#ladybug and chat noir#miraculous ladybug salt
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What do you think of the critics of murven being ableist (coming from a chronically ill person who considers it such)?
First of all, I think that we all bring a different perspective to fiction - and ships - based on our own experiences. So we have biases and preferences that sometimes we’re not even cognizant of with regard to what we are drawn to or what we are repulsed by. But I also think it’s important to listen to other perspectives, especially minority voices, and yes I do know that there are those who are strongly against the Murphy/Raven ship because they feel it discriminates or does carry an ableist attitude. And yes, I have read some of those takes out of a desire to understand it.
Before I add my own opinion, let me start with two caveats. First, I am not disabled and I do get that because of that, my understanding (or lack thereof) of this topic is going to be influenced by my own dearth of personal experience/only having an outside view. Second, whether it matters or not, I did start shipping these two characters in 1x10, which is before Murphy shot Raven and she received her permanent injury from it. I don’t suggest this lets me off the hook for my opinions, and in fact I still clearly ship them even knowing Murphy DID cause this injury - I’m just pointing this out because I do happen to know the exact moment I got into this relationship and I am quite aware of why I like their dynamic and what draws me to them.
So that said - it happens to be my personal opinion that this relationship is not ableist from the way that it is portrayed in the show. And yes, I understand that what is ableist/not ableist to me, a non-disabled person, may certainly be different than what an actual disabled person may see. But this question seems to be seeking my justification for shipping this ship, so I am going to offer it under the cut.
I think that t100 has done a great job with this particular storyline - portraying Raven as very adversarial and angry towards Murphy, both because of him shooting her, of course, but also because of her anger over the whole Finn/Trikru Village mess. Not long after he shoots her, Raven lures Murphy into a sort of trap with the intent to give Murphy to Trikru instead of Finn, and while I can’t say it’s fully revenge for her leg, nor is it fully just to save Finn either, IMHO. Both of these things influence her. Ultimately her plan doesn’t work, and it happens to be my opinion based on the scene that Raven is aware that she is doing wrong, but regardless of personal interpretation of this storyline, it is canon that Raven is angry at Murphy and this is ongoing from after he shoots her and well into S4. No one suggests that her anger is misplaced, no one pushes for her to “get over” him shooting her, and for the most part when they do interact (they had no scenes together in S3), Murphy mostly just takes her ire like it’s his due - he does not resist it or push back as he does with others, which to me always suggested that he felt like he deserved her anger - which he does.
At the time that I was watching live, I was aware my interest in Raven/Murphy as a ship was far-fetched in 1x10 (when I first liked the idea of them), and I absolutely admit Murphy was still a jerk then, even before he shot her. I just liked the possibility of what I thought they could be, and I found Murphy far more interesting for Raven than Finn. After the shooting happened, I figured there was absolutely no chance of them ever getting together or being friends after that, especially with no interaction between them in S3. But then S4 happened and for me, possibilities were renewed. I could go rather in depth about it, but I think things started to change for RAVEN after Murphy stole that medicine for Adria. She was angry with him over it, even though in a way he took that burden off of her shoulders. She made the choice to say no medicine for Adria, with the odds being likely that it wouldn’t save the child but without 100% certainty. Murphy stealing it meant that the death of the child was no longer on Raven’s conscience. I don’t think Raven grasped this initially, but when they get to Becca’s Island in S4 and she is shown to still be angry with Murphy - calling him a dick, saying he shouldn’t have come - but then he helps her run from the drones when she can’t keep up, and canon portrays her as being perhaps surprised/shocked/perplexed by this because she didn’t expect it of him, but then she CHOOSES to thank him for it of her own volition. And when she is talking to Luna and trying to convince her to stay, Raven says that Adria was worth taking a chance for - which is a change in Raven’s initial perspective of not allowing the medicine for Adria.
It was and is my interpretation of the show’s canon that this was something of a turning point in Raven’s head, a softening towards other people as more than just numbers or statistics. Raven has never been a cruel character but at the same time, often she previously showed empathy more towards someone she loved or knew, and tried to react with logic or without emotion when it came to others - understandable in order to make life or death decisions, sure, but often making her seem cold, like what Abby accused her of when Raven wouldn’t give the medicine. During their time on Becca’s Island in S4, Raven works together quite a bit with Murphy. They can be antagonistic, which is no surprise, but we also know that Raven is also being affected by Becca’s code still in her head. We see them working together - sometimes quite well or even joking - and we see Raven thank Murphy again for his help. We see Murphy taking steps to be the bigger person where Raven is concerned (ie after their big fight he’s actually trying to learn Luna’s words to calm Raven down and it’s Murphy that sucks it up and comes back to the lab after the fight). We are shown that Murphy does not fight back against Raven physically (just tries to protect/defend himself), shows concern for her well-being, and in his own way, tries to help. (I can cite examples here but this is already wordy). When Raven decides to die on her own terms, she shows this change of attitude again when she offers Murphy forgiveness when she tells him it’s not his fault. There was no pressure on Raven to do this, no outside influence other than her own CHOICE. Murphy did not beg or seem to expect forgiveness from her at any time in S4 (or prior), and is in fact really shell-shocked when she offers it.
To me, THIS is why I don’t view the Murven ship as ableist. There is no subtext that suggests that Raven needs to or should forgive Murphy. There is no scenario where Murphy refutes or tries to justify what he did to her. Murphy is not put on some kind of redemption arc with regard to Raven or what he did to her, she’s not in a storyline where she is seeking to be “fixed” so much as she’s seeking to escape the pain, and we see her have an ongoing struggle with it so it’s not like it’s all just forgotten or water under the bridge for her. While Raven does seem to think the injury is something to overcome at first, we are told and shown that it won’t ever go away, and we do see her struggles as she comes to terms with this. The show doesn’t portray her as inferior because of her injury, though. Raven is always seen as a valuable member of the group by others even when she herself doubts her worth. In fact, people regularly try to save her at the risk of themselves. Raven as a character makes a personal choice - and we could certainly dive into the reasons for it; I love characterization stuff! - but she chooses to forgive Murphy and move forward and whatever Murphy does or does not do isn’t specifically what brings this about, I don’t think - to me it’s much more about what Raven wants for herself before she thinks she’s going to die. This is key for me because Raven never loses autonomy where Murphy is concerned - something in her wants to forgive him and for me, I can only respect this choice as something the character actively seeks.
And if I dig a little further into it, I can add that after Raven forgives Murphy and then he is part of the group that comes back to rescue her/they go into space for 6 years together, at no time are we shown anything to suggest that they are anything other than friends. In fact we can infer that they’ve only gotten to be better friends, especially because Murphy not only decides to stay behind for her (and it’s made clear that it IS for her, because why should she always be the one to sacrifice), but he also isn’t shown raging and angry or blaming her when he finds out there’s no escape pod. He puts himself at risk multiple times in S5 & S6 for Raven and/or for Raven as part of his friend group, and she does the same for him. If there was still resentment here, we as an audience would know it and this isn’t what has been happening. In fact, in S6 I’d venture that Raven shows Murphy MORE understanding than she shows other people, which stems from not only the two of them being alike in some ways but also is evidence that she cares for him (you can read as romantic or as friends, either way they both care).
Now all of the above isn’t to say that I can’t see how someone else could be turned off by this ship, and I can certainly agree that in real life, if someone shot me or someone I care about, it’s probably going to be impossible for me to get close to that person or want to spend time with them. However, the fictional world of The 100 is a very different sort of place. All of the characters have basically tried to kill each other or cause harm to each other at some point - even the ones who love each other (romantically and otherwise). I can think of tons of examples! Raven and Murphy got stuck on a spaceship for 6 years together - if they didn’t find a way to get along, think how horrible that would have been not only for themselves but for the other five people there.
I don’t ship these two because I think it’s admirable that Raven forgave Murphy, or because I think some weird karma tie formed between them where he owes her some kind of life-debt or something. To me their dynamic (romantic or friendship) has grown far past him shooting her and that’s now a part of their past that is outweighed by what positive things they’ve built between them. Yes, part of why I think I can move past the shooting is because at the time, Murphy did not know he was shooting RAVEN - he thought it was Octavia. If he had wanted Raven specifically to die, maybe my shippy thoughts of them would have evaporated, I don’t know. But that’s not the story. The story is that Raven was an innocent bystander to Murphy’s rage, and they’ve both grown a lot since that happened. The overall story of The 100 spends a lot of time debating whether people can “do better”, whether we’re destined to repeat the same mistakes all the time, who is ‘worthy’ and who isn’t, and who matters to you and who doesn’t. I do have an understanding of forgiveness outside of this show, and why people choose to forgive to begin with. Often it’s for themselves - not for the person that caused them harm. I’m sure that perspective comes into play for me as well, with regards to why I don’t see this relationship as ableist - whether viewed as romantic or as a friendship. To me, this ship isn’t centered on the shooting. Maybe that in itself is where I’m going wrong from the perspective of those that disagree with me - because I don’t hold the shooting up as the sole important thing between them. It’s a part of their history, yes, and it’s not ever going to be forgotten, and I don’t suggest it should be.
But to ME, intent comes into play, their history and present beyond the shooting matter too. And they’ve each learned a lot of lessons since then about love, loss, friendship and who they want to be - and who they don’t. And I’m super intrigued by all of that and lots, lots more.
So per usual, this is lengthy even though I didn’t really touch on the parts of their dynamic that really got me into them. But I made an attempt to explain my own thoughts on the question and I hope that provided some insight, whether or not you or anyone else agree with my perspective. I am and always will be a proponent of “ship and let ship”, and I fully understand there are a lot of complexities to what we like and what we don’t. At this point, “I Am Become Death” 1x10 aired in May 2014. I’ve been shipping them ever since and I don’t expect that to change any time soon. Raven & Murphy as a romantic ship isn’t going to be everyone’s cup of tea and I get that. It just so happens that they are definitely mine.
#my inbox#asked and answed#murven#murphy x raven#ship justification#since I can't think what else to call this as it's not speculation or meta
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Hello, Mr. E and fans. This letter will he a bit harsh, but I only speak the truth. I’ve been a big fan of the NVTFOA franchise for awhile, but the spark is dying down. Hell, we’ve been waiting for E to write a “new chapter” for more than a YEAR. Whenever he’s asked about it, he always says it’s coming soon. I was happy with the NVTFOA Tumblr because at least he’s keeping fans satisfied, but now he’s not doing THAT. It’s been months and he hasn’t answered anything. I’m angry with Mr. E right now
E: I am going to preface this entire thing with this: You are allowed to feel angry. You are allowed to feel that negative emotion because it is a healthy response. We as humans have those emotion to help us express what we are feeling and helps us get over our issues. What you should never do is act on that negative emotion because then you do something like this and I am forced to respond in kind. Don’t worry I am simply sharing insight with you.
I don’t want anyone to respond omg this anon is a jerk and such a blah blah because based on the way this is written they were trying to be polite but firm which is a nice change of pace from the occasional asshat that leaves stuff in my inbox that I just delete because they’re just being an ass. It is well meaning ask but a little misguided.
I am a person. I am not a machine that just cranks out stories because that is what I am forced to do. I have a life. I have responsibilities to people who depend on me and you are not entitled to anything. Do not get me wrong I greatly appreciate all the love and support I get so much that mere words can never properly express it but I do this for fun. I do this because I find enjoyment in it and I really wish I could get paid for this. I really wish I could sit back and write for the rest of my life with that being my job. You have no idea how much I wish I could make living off just doing something I love. Alas right now that’s not how it works. You say you speak truth but you don’t. You speak from the view of a reader whose favorite content who hasn’t been updated in 2 years which makes me honored you think highly of my work that it’s mere absence angers you. It’s kinda flattering. and I know you wrote this to express your frustration which as I have previously said is allowed. You were kind enough not to call me horrible words or demanding I write a chapter right now or you hate me. You express anger which I suspect might actually be more disappointment.
I am human. I am one person and run this tumblr by myself. Deth does not run this and there’s no one helping me answering any of these questions. Deth has her own life and she can do whatever she wants because she is her own person. She is the official Nova artist because she’s a fan and I always so grateful for her work because she could give you things I never could as a writer. Many are not that lucky.
Now let me enlighten you to the daily life of an E.
For 2 weeks every month I am the caretaker of my grandma whom I am lucky to have. She is 99 years old as of last week. She has a broken leg but she can walk because of a metal plate in her leg and a walker. She is very sharp and smart but she’s not there anymore. She suffers heavy from memory loss and pride. She doesn’t understand her leg is broken unless you remind her. She doesn’t understand she can’t help anymore or that she has asked me have I eaten breakfast for the 5th time in an hour. She loves me which is a testament to the work I do. When she is here I don’t sleep. From midnight to 6 am I watch her. I sleep with my door open. I listen for her in case she has nightmares (Rare but they happen) and I have to help her to restroom and then tuck her back into bed then maybe sleep for 20 30 minutes. an hour or 2 if I’m lucky until it is 6 am or she gets up again. I am getting older. I’ve finally shoved my pride and bought a baby monitor to ensure I don’t lose my mind. My grandma is getting older too and she’s getting more and more problems that are not easy to deal with. I’ve been watching her for 6 years but I have been taking care of her for the last 14.
Did you know that post I made a month ago was literally the first time I’ve been on vacation in 2 years? The first time in 2 years that I didn’t have to worry about anything aside my fear of heights which luckily I was able to control on my flight.
Then recently this last week we decided to change the flooring in our rooms. I had to physically move every single piece of thing I owned out of a tiny doorframe and find space for it along with my grandma’s stuff while my grandma was here and let me tell all that stuff in the living room really threw her off.
Today was literally the first time in a month that I could actually hop on a computer to answer asks (Excellent timing btw). And honestly some days I look at that 141 asks inbox of nova (and the 22 stories prompts I haven’t written in my writing blog) And go “I don’t know if I am up for it today.” And I legit feel bad. I feel I should answer this consistently but last year really fucked with me to be honest.
Last year I lost my favorite uncle. I didn’t want to mention it because I didn’t want to hear I’m sorry or my condolences for your loss. I was angry because for the first time in my entire life, the first time ever I felt cheated. I felt robbed. It was a whole background of problems but long story short is that I didn’t really get to see him often and his death felt like a sucker punch. I...yeah.
And that messed with my writing schedule and I am the type of person that once that is gone, it is so hard to get back in the groove of things. It is a very unfortunate flaw I have and I have been trying to get back into it but it’s hard.
I have been writing for 16 years of my life. I can write 1,335 words an hour if I’m focusing. it still takes 2 to 5 hours for me to write an average story of mine because boy am I wordy and that’s just my style plus an 30 minutes to proofread (which I still make mistakes) and another 30 to answer reviews. Then the last two season for star vs I personally don’t think they were good and that really hurts my motivation. and sometimes I want to write other stuff. Other stories or ideas, original and other series because damn do I have too many ideas.
and of course I have to decide what to do with Nova. I love this series because this was the first time I felt like I could be a real writer. To create original ideas and series and have people love them. Like them. Invest in them. Like a real author. I’ve been writing since a time fanfiction was considered lesser. You weren’t a writer if you wrote fanfiction or aus or put ocs in a series and it took me a long time to get over that finally show Nova to the word. and my own original stuff. And of course the show threw so many curve balls at me and went in such wildly crazy directions that it directly affects nova since nova takes place 20 years in the future and I had to decide, on my own because Deth is a reader too and doesn’t want spoilers, what to do. Do i change the story I had plan, do i find ways to fill in the holes accidentally created for me? do I keep on going and just call it a future au where different choices and events just happened (Which i decided yes). I decided to keep the original plan. The plan I created when I first started this. and of course I left the cliff hanger on a fight scene. Fight scenes are very hard to keep engaging and epic yet clear and I haven’t properly written an like a year and I have to come back to a freaking fight scene.
Literally the next chapter of the story is to show you this is the next arc of nova. this is the main arc of the entire story.
First Movement: A Magician’s Forte.
I’ve been waiting to unveil that chapter title for 2 years.
Look I am not doing this to shame you or to make you feel bad. I doing this to remind you that I am a human being. Writers and Artists are human beings. I do this with my own time, effort and finding ways not to get burnt out and keep fitting this whole thing I love into my life. And I have always been honest with you. I answered an ask openly stating there was the real possibility that maybe I couldn’t finish Nova. That I would post my notes up so you all would get to at least know the things I had plan.
If you are still angry, then I am sorry I lost you as a fan and as a reader. It is what it is. But you need to understand I am a person. it is super easy to have this blurred view where somehow your favorite content creator is somehow beyond the issues and problems of the world. But we’re not. We’re people too. I am just a guy that likes to write but I have a life beyond that too.
Hope you have a great day and I hope you’re a little less angry now.
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Getting to Know: Uulii Qalli
♔ Name ➻ “My full name is Uuliinyagaantsetseg Qalli, though as you can most likely imagine, that name is. . . unpleasant to say regularly. Because of that, I tell strangers, and most of my friends for that matter, to simply call me Uulii. It makes things a lot easier, even though it is a lot of fun watching people try to attempt saying the entire name.”
♕ Are you single ➻ “At the moment, but I have my hopes that I'll manage to change that soon enough. There is somebody that has managed to captivate me, and I'm working up the courage to bring it up with them. If they so no, however, I suppose I will be single for the foreseeable future. Not that that's a bad thing.”
♗ Are you happy ➻ “Honestly, I do feel that I am quite happy at the moment. I'm making plenty of new friends, who's company I enjoy, I've picked up an instrument again, and I'm making good progress on the book I'm writing! Though, I also wouldn't say I'm near one-hundred percent yet. I still can't bring myself to sing again, and thinking back on events of my past still wounds me far too much to bear. I'm trying to be positive, though, so overall... Yes.”
♘ Are you angry? ➻ “There are things that I still feel angry about, but they are far away and in my past, so I'm trying not to let them affect my daily life. Generally, I'd say that I'm not an angry person, but I am capable of getting angry if somebody or something manages to poke and prod the wrong places.”
♙ Are your parents still married ➻ “Though I cannot see them anymore, I don't think even the darkest tragedy could tear those two apart.”
NINE FACTS
♚ Birth Place ➻ “I can't quite tell you the exact place I was born, nor do I think my parents even could, but it was somewhere on the steppe.”
♛ Hair Color ➻ “Naturally, it toes the border between black and blue, though at the moment I've dyed it an adorable light pink, leaving only the tips my original blue. Uulii blue, as my parents called it.”
♝ Eye Color ➻ “My eyes much like my hair are a dark blue, with sky blue limbal rings.”
♞Birthday ➻ “I was born under the 12th sun of the first umbral moon. Oh! I guess I missed my own birthday. . .”
♜ Mood ➻ “Hmm... At the moment, I think I'm feeling a bit excited, though not without a hefty serving of anxiety mixed in. I'm about to do something that is a big step for me, so I both look forward to and dread the result simultaneously. Wish me luck!”
♟ Gender ➻ “. . . I would think it is obvious, though maybe those jokes my friends keep making are more than just jokes. I don't look that boyish. . . Right?”
♟ Summer or winter ➻ “Winter is honestly my favorite, and I think it is the reason that I have taken such a deep liking to Coerthas. There's just something about the silence of snow that puts my mind at ease.”
♟ Morning or afternoon ➻ “That moment just before the sun rises in the morning has something magical about it, that no other time of the day can compare to.”
EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE
♥ Are you in love ➻ “Horribly, I fear. Though I have yet to tell her.”
♥ Do you believe in love at first sight ➻ “As a person who has experienced it, I don't think I have a right to deny it's existence.”
♥ Who ended your last relationship ➻ “My last relationship. . . I put an end to. It wasn't exactly the healthiest, and I feared it would turn South soon, so I left it. Though I never told them. I just up and left, both physically and emotionally.”
♥ Have you ever broken someone’s heart ➻ “I hope not. I've only ever been in two relationships. The first one was a mutually agreed ending, and the second, as stated above, was bad for me so I left. If I have ever scorned somebody's feelings, and their heart broke over it . . . I'm just going to hope it's never happened.”
♥ Are you afraid of commitments ➻ “I don't think that I am, though I've never truly been in that deep of a relationship, so I can't truly say. Maybe someday I'll find out, though I would hope I would fight through the fear so as to allow something wonderful to bloom.”
♥ Have you hugged someone within the last week? ➻ “Plenty!”
♥ Have you ever had a secret admirer ➻ “If I have, then they did quite a good job keeping to the secret part of it.”
♥ Have you ever broken your own heart? ➻ “Yes, yes I have, and the wounds from it have still yet to fully heal.”
SIX CHOICES
♠ Love or lust ➻ “Love, without a doubt. While lust does have a place, nothing can truly beat out the feelings that accompany true love.”
♠ Lemonade or iced tea ➻ “I think I'd have to go with the tea. Lemonade is good, but only in certain circumstances, while iced tea is good all the time.”
♠ Cats or Dogs ➻ “Honestly, neither. Birds are what have always held that spot in my heart.”
♠ A few best friends or many regular friends ➻ “A few best friends are best for a weary heart. Having a small, tight-knit group of people I can put my full trust in is much nicer than a large group of people who will always just be a bit too distant to truly resonate with.”
♠ Wild night out or romantic night in ➻ “While I do enjoy both, a quiet night in, cuddled up reading books by a warm fire is my ideal night.”
♠ Day or night ➻ “The times when night and day meet are the best to me, but if I had to choose one... I think I would go with day. I have always been just a little scared of the things that go bump in the night, so if left alone, I'd rather avoid it. If I have somebody with me though, night does have a certain beauty of it's own.”
FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS
♦ Been caught sneaking out ➻ “I never had a reason to sneak out, so I couldn't exactly get caught doing it.”
♦ Fallen down/up the stairs ➻ “. . . I'm still getting used to how they work. I spent most of my life traversing flat ground.”
♦ Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➻ “Oh if only you knew, but to fully explain it I would need to take more of your time than I already am.”
♦ Wanted to disappear ➻ “. . . Sadly.”
FOUR PREFERENCES
♣ Smile or eyes ➻ “A cute smile can make my heart melt, but gorgeous and interesting eyes make it soar.”
♣ Shorter or Taller ➻ “Honestly, it's hard to get shorter than me without being a Lalafell, and while I have nothing against them, I think I like my partners to be a bit taller.”
♣ Intelligence or Attraction ➻ “Intelligence is the ultimate attractive feature. You can have the most beautiful face in the world, but if you cannot hold a conversation, is there really a point?”
♣ Hook-up or Relationship ➻ “I've honestly always been a bit scared of hook ups. The idea of getting together with a complete stranger makes my knees shake and thoughts race. I like to take things slow, if possible.”
FAMILY
♡ Do you and your family get along ➻ “My tribe was my everything, before they were taken away from me. I don't think anything can truly break the bonds we had.”
♤ Would you say you have a “messed up life” ➻ “At one point it was messed up, but I think the pieces that I have glued together are beautiful in their own way.”
♢ Have you ever ran away from home ➻ “I did, but it was a necessity. If I could go back, with everything just the way it was, I would.”
♧ Have you ever gotten kicked out ➻ “Once when I was a small child, I was 'kicked out' in order to teach me a lesson about stealing. I don't fully remember the events myself, but according to the story my parents told me, I took that opportunity to befriend some sort of large beast, and it took five of my tribe members two days to get me back from it. Needless to say, they never did that again.”
FRIENDS
♙ Do you secretly hate one of your friends ➻ “Hmm... I wouldn't say hate, but there is one that I don't know well enough, so I am probably more cautious than I should be around them.”
♟ Do you consider all of your friends good friends ➻ “No, only a couple have earned that title. I would love it if I could include more people in that grouping though!”
♙ Who is your best friend ➻ “Kaede ( @mapleforest ) is, without a doubt. Without her, I don't know how well I'd be doing right now.”
♟ Who knows everything about you ➻ “Nobody but me, at the moment. Well, unless you count my old, tiny stuffed horse. I've had it since I was a baby, so I suppose it would know everything. Good thing it can't talk.”
“Thank you to everyone who took your time to read this. It’s a little long, but I wanted to answer everything as best I could, which means it got a little bit wordy in the end.”
Tagged by @fracturedfantasia, I hope you enjoy Uulii’s answers!
Anyone who reads this, feel free to say you were tagged by me if you want to give it a go! My anxiety still isn’t at a point where I feel comfortable tagging people, otherwise I would. Thanks for reading! <3
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your wife is a writer!! do you think she'd have any writing tips for a young aspiring author who's only recently started planning for an original book?
This is the Gay Wifeanswering herself!
Some disclaimers:
1.This turned into amonster, I am so sorry. I apparently had a lot to say on the matter.
2. I assume you readthe blog and don’t have a huge problem with cuss words. I normally wouldn’t dothis to a stranger online, so…
3. I am so fuckingpretentious. Lord. I added a bunch of links to things that have caused me topause and think about writing, and some of them are just??? I am so sorry,please don’t judge me too harshly.
Thank you so much for this ask! I was surprised,admittingly, that you’d ask for my writing tips despite the fact that I haven’tpublished anything online for you to read. But I am glad you did! My wife (theblog owner) is so very kind and supportive of me. Maybe a bit too much? Shetalked me up quite a lot in her answer to that ask. Because I don’t think I amall that special. Nor do I think myself and the spaceman living and my head area wellspring of great ideas, BUT HERE GOES. [Note from the blog owner: I neverexaggerate baby’s talents 😉]
I have hadthoughts on writing advice blogs/posts in the past, as in, they aren’talways useful. K J Charles, an author Ireally like, recentlymade a post about writing advice that is really worth a read if you wouldlike to seek out advice in the future.
That’s not to say I am not totally willing and excited toanswer you! This might just be a weird tip list, that’s all, because all ‘tiplists’ are biased to one writer’s processes. My ideas on writing might not workfor you, may be disastrous, or may be where you set your flagstones. I’ll trymy best to communicate what I think will help. But with that, take it with agrain of salt.
Writing a story, byits nature alone, is a product of desperate translation of something that isintangible; emotions, moments,places one has never been, experiences one’s never had. A story becomesgood when the translation of ideas switches from the surreal to the profoundlyrelatable. That might be something to keep in mind as you write; that youaren’t telling a story, you’re translatingthis idea in your mind and heart into words – into language, into a story,into a pathway to follow, into this brand new experience that will sit with areader for long time after they finish the story.
The writing process is labyrinthine and elaborate andintricate. I’m going to list a couple of things that have helped me, specifically what I did when I wasfeeling uninspired or frustrated with what I was writing. Again, these workedfor me, so if they don’t for you, don’t use them. Try something else! Explore!Innovate! Grow! And allow yourself mistakes!
I constantly think about classic writers and how theydiffer. I’m kind of a nerd for quotes and delight in spending hours pouringmyself over them. And writersso vastlydiffer fromeach otherwhen it comesto how they approachedtheir craft (I think about that last one a lot because it directlycontradicts every ‘writingadvice’ blog post I’ve ever seen). You’ll have to do that, too, or riskbeing drowned out by the static of how you think you should be writing. You should neverlet your unique way of writing be chained down by all that bullshit out there.
Plotting/Outlining/and the dirty work—
I try to do NanoWriMoevery year and fucking hate it to shards and jagged pieces. If there was oneoverwhelming thing I have learned, it is that I need an outline to function. Thiscame as quite the surprise to me personally because I am such a messy bitch. Butdear merciful Lord in heaven, if I don’t have an outline I can’t move forward.So I embraced that and outlined my scenes like a motherfucker on a lone motorcycle, reaching for that burning redsunset, running from my sordid past, man!Here is just three notebooks from the last year’s NaNo:
Now that is three notebooks, not including the forth one Ialso filled up. One of them is initial notes; themes I had in mind, characteroutlines, a summary of the plot – basic stuff. I also wrote out some rules.This was a supernatural/horror/comedy, all three of those genres I have nopractice in. So I wrote out tropes that I wanted to avoid, points that I wantedto greatly impress, character traits I had etched in stone (for instance,“Edwidge will stay a kind person.”)
Then I dive into outlining by chapter with a rough first go,then another notebook where I re-wrote that outline, then a forth with fleshed-outdialogue exchanges, character movements (both in detail, such as the hands, theeyes) and within the constructed space (sits on a desk, leans against a wall,observes the pictures on the wall), and with random details I decided whileoutlining. In that same vain, the nightmarish scribbles off to the side of thenotebook pages are products of an idea striking me and the muses directing myhand. Muses have horrible handwriting.
Now I know there are people out there in the great greenworld who can write with vague outlines, or no outlines at all (I’m looking atyou, @onedamnminuteadmiral, you wicked ho). And those people are witches andheathens that must meet with the pyre. I’ll bring the gasoline if you bring thematches. [Note from the blog owner: Heeeyyyyyyyy!]
I probably shouldn’t admit to it, but I would often getreally frustrated with outlining and resort to stick figure storyboards. Yes,like I’m a writer for derivative cartoon about a wacky suburban family. My stick figure storyboard was surprisinglyeffective (???I guess???). I got a sense of space, of movement, I made notesabout the way the eyes moved. This, coupled with the far more wordy outline,added a lot of hot sauce to that beef.
I also saw this methodof storyboarding today and I am thinking I might take it up. It looksfantastic!
So, yes, either outline or don’t. I really worked for me,but it might come more natural for you to fly by the seat of your pants. Ifthere is one thing I would do, it would be to make notes on how the charactersmove within the space. Specifically, placement of hands, how their eyes move,the lighting, anything that gives the characters a solid weight in their world.
SPEAKING OF
A slice of characters—
Human nature, by the definitions divined by humankinditself, is fucking absurd. A personleft unobserved will always devolve into subtle rule-breaking based purely andthe common, everydayswerves their free will dictates (ie. I never wear lipstick, but thismorning I was feeling kicky by no outside influences what-so-ever, so, fireengine red?). There is more glorious spark and untold, unfolding of brilliancein a real person sitting quietly in a chair for a half and hour than there willever be in a fully-realized, well-rounded, fictional character. That might be aharsh statement, but it is something I constantly have buzzing in my bonnetwhen I write characters. It causes me to strive for something more from my characters.
I bring up that (jfc am I pretentious) philosophy videoabout fate/free will because in writing characters, you’ll constantly have tothink if your characters are acting as youbelieve they will, or how they would more naturally behave.
People are series of moments with great contradictions.Characters who are well developed, compounded and complex, and interesting toread, should also be weighed at the center in how they contradict themselves. I find this to be a really important standard in writing characters. This is so damnhard to explain, so let me give some silly examples.
Characters tend to have traits/characteristics/personalityrules cemented by the author. I see it constantly in books, and it reallysteams my vegetables. For example:
Valen was raised in a polite society—he is a politeand considerate man – he will act politely as a matter of keeping thecharacter consistent.
Valen was raised to be strong — he would be calm in thissituation— he would not be afraid at the climax of the book.
It’s… not a wrong way of writing character. Constancy iscertainly important. Its just flat? ‘Uninteresting’ may be a bit too much.Writing a character as a series of set rules can be this transitive, it justfeels manufactured, distant from reality.
For example, consider at how I act:
Gay wife spent her formative years in the South —she was trained to be a polite person, professionally— she calls hercustomers Mr. Meyers and Ms. Linda and her boss solely as Ms. Jeanne—she workshard to be a polite person – she always uses ‘pardon me’ and ‘excuse me’. Thatis honestly who I am.
BUT ALSO
Gay Wife had a weird home life growing up—she had a rocky,religious upbringing— this manifests in reallyvulgar humor at home— shecalls her wife whore-tits and expressesreligious terror to her cats. This is also honestly who I am.
Am I vulgar person? Am I cautious and polite? Thosecontradict each other, and they are both true about me! I try to be as politeas possible, but at home where I am comfortable and unobserved (other than bymy wife, who is now stuck with me so whatever), I turn into a total asshole.
When I read a love story, for example, I get concerned whena character stays exactly the same as when they started out. I’m notspecifically talking about character growth, per say, but in the way the carrythemselves, in the way they behave. I read one fantastic book where a characterspoke differently with the other servants than he did to the lord of the house,even after they started a relationship together. As you proceed to write yourcharacters, I would recommend thinking about how differently people behavedepending on their current situation, and contradict the rules you have set forthe character. Everyone act different around their grandma than they do aroundtheir high school friends. Both those situations, the person is stillthemselves, just affected by compulsions lent to them by the situation.
So consider writing a character that is both compassionateand open-minded, but is also bigoted towards someone/something. It tells thereader where that compassion ends, the lines that character draws. Or acharacter that is brave, but only because he is a coward (that is one of myfavorites.) A character that is a brilliant genius, but a fuckin’ idiot. I’vepersonally known plenty of real people I would describe as genius fuckin’idiots.
Please consider how funny, upbeat people are so fucking sad inside. Or rather, theytend to be. Within two weeks of knowing the funniest person I’ve ever met, Iwas asking him if he was okay. And he was fuckin’ not, and I knew to askbecause despite this blog making people laugh (of which I am proud), I’ve haddepression since I was a child and have struggled with it to the extreme(aside: if anyone needs to talk, feel free to message me @thewaltzrio). I’veborrowed that so many times when writing. [Triggerwarning on this link, but it is worthreading.]
You play your cards right, you’ll also be subverting tropesleft and right.
Compound contradictions, add in swerves of free will, mix ina pinch of chaos caused by fate (that you have set for them), and you’ve got ainteresting, more real and weighty character on your hands. People will relateto that. The best compliment I’ve ever received was, “Hadrian [one of mycharacters] has really stuck with me.” That meant a lot to me, more thananything I’ve heard about the story or the setting or the world building I’vedone for the story.
The second best thing I’ve heard is when I let someone readwhat I have written, and the first question I ask is “which was your favoritecharacter?”. I’ve done it dozens of times with the same work and I’ve gotten adifferent answer every single time.If you do the same, you will know you’ve got a good cast of characters on yourhands.
It is only my personal opinion that characters are worthmore than the story itself. You connect with characters, you believe in them,you root for them, you love them with an unhealthy dependency. Look aroundevery fandom — it is characters that draw people into a show, make them stickwith it, make them care about the 2nd season getting greenlighted.The plot is a series of situations done tothe characters. It happens to them.The interest in the story is cultivated from the perspective of a character andhow they react.
Which brings me to thedetails. Fuck yeah DETAILS.
Write details when it comes to character creation beyondhair color, zodiac signs, or height and weight. Now, you’re on tumblr andwithout a doubt a smart and well informed person, so I don’t need to go intothe importance of a diverse cast of characters. So here are some of my favoriteways of meshing the character into the world, and making them seem more like people.
I like mentioning the condition of their fingernails. Youmight find something else that works for you, but I like fingernails. I mademention that my main character has “acres of real-estate under his fingernails.”Now that is a handful of words that tells the reader that: He works hard, hedoesn’t have time to clean them, he isn’t vain, he doesn’t consider clean nailssomething worth his time worrying about. Everyone in his community probablycarries the same kind of dirt and grime around with them.
I adore using verbal ticks as markers of a character’spersonality. I probably go overboard with this; I go out of my way to add atick to each character. My character Hadrian ended up saying ‘in any matter’ toswitch topics. He is the only one who says that, and it’s a nice verbal tick. Mycharacter Raif is trying to be seen as a poor tradesmen, so he uses impropergrammar when speaking on the daily, and (in exposing his true background) uses expressly proper grammar when in a stressfulsituation. If a reader picked up on that tick, then they would feel so damnclever when Raif is exposed as the lost prince! That is satisfying payoff!
My favorite one I’ve written so far is Seymour, a 15-year-oldwho was raised mostly in isolation, without a real home or community to callhis own. So he parrots other people, he borrows from his friends and those headmires. It tells a reader than he lacks a sense of self, of place, of how tointeract with people. I never actuallysay he does this, but he constantly repeats phrases he hears from hisfriend Raif. And, by the end of the book, he is also saying ‘in any matter’ toswitch topics. It is a satisfying way of showing how Seymour interacts withother characters.
Mentioning the condition of a character’s clothing is sobaseline it might as well be chapter one, line one, in the guidebook of how towrite characters. But you can really have fun with this one. For example, Imade of point of introducing my main characters in very particular ways. WhenDouglas meets Hadrian, they are at a costume party. Douglas is in his Fleet cadetuniform (which tells the reader he is the type of person who didn’t feel theneed to change his out of his everyday uniform for the sake of a costume — Ishe too proud of it? Is he too shy to dress in something bizarre? Is it alreadya costume to him?) and he sees Hadrian across the way. Hadrian is wearing thedraping robes and ivy and burning candle crown of a pagan god of mischief(which tells the reader damn neareverything they are in for with him. That he pays attention to ancientpagan god history in a religious society, that he isn’t concerned with lookingridiculous in public, that he is a huge fuck-head.) [note from the blog owner:I love him.]
That is different! That isn’t going into details aboutfineries/tatters/tailored clothing vs. hand-me-downs.
Clever segue to thenext section!!
A student of curiosity—
So you may notice that I am not going to mention a very hugepart about writing in this bullshit thing I’m claiming as writing advice, andthat is how you construct your plot. Who gives a shit? Sorry that was harsh.But we’ve all seen that chart in school about rising action and climax andfalling action and UGH.Because seriously, who gives a shit? You write what you want, there are no rules.
But! I can add a few words about how to help your story getswol. Or at least, what worked best with what I do. Like I said earlier, humansare fucking absurd. And human history is so broad and sweeping and fantasticthat you can find endless sources for inspiration to draw upon. It is importantto stay curious and make a habit of studying the bizarre. I utilize my love ofhistory to find inspiration. History pulls from and contains so many other topicsto learn about and utilize; superstitions, unsolved mysteries, trends, deadreligions, all sorts of niches that have wedged their way into the buildingblocks of history.
If you find history dry, that’s fine! Loads of people do.The point is, if something really grabs you, take the time to think about whyit did. Those wiki binges that last until 3am? What is it about those subjectsthat drew you in that you could borrow for your story? (I once based an entireromance novel on a wiki binge about the quartering of soldiers in the colonial UnitedStates.) Podcasts are fantastic for this! I’d recommend Lore if you haven’t already checked itout. Even though Aaron Mahnke drives me fucking crazy with that “well, yousee, maybe human beings were the monsters the whole time” bullshit, I stilllove this podcast.
But remain curious as you write. Think about moments inbooks and movies that have stuck with you and you don’t know why. Some cleverlittle thing that made you pause. Like, for me, the kitchen scene in JurassicPark. I’d never seen kids under such threat before, just pure terror, and thatis my very first thought upon thinking about that movie. I know that I writenotes (usually when I’m at work) on what about a thing made me sit up and payattention. Then I break it down and mold it into something new. Who knows,maybe it will help add a great twist into the plot that you didn’t think of.
The literal scene, a quick note—
I’m also a huge nerd for movies and the way movies are shot.I know this is coming out of the blue, and may seem odd to add in a monsterpost about writing, but stickwith me on this. Movies and writing have some overlap if you’re willing tospend time thinking about constructing a scene in your book the same way adirector frames a shot. I swear, it works if you let it.
When I get frustrated with how a scene is playing out whileI am writing, I try approaching it based on how it would be framedcinematically. Every reader has (what my wife calls) the theater of the mind,and you can use that to your advantage as you write. Think about how acharacter would view a room upon entering it for the first time. What draws theireye, what piques their interest, what is central to them. Film directors to thesame thing when they frame a shot. They carefully plan how the light falls overa character’s face. They deconstruct and reconstruct the layout of a room. Theyblock the actors. They pan over book titles to show a character’s interest.They they keep important things out offrame to remind the viewer that it will come back into play in a few moments. You can do that all, too, when you write!
I recommended once that my wife and I watch a very well shottv show when we were both frustrated with writing. We got sketchbooks and drewwhat caught our eyes. I remember I latched on to the way a character’s earringsmoved every time she did; it was subtle, but vibrant, kinetic, and a detail Idon’t think I would have thought to add if I was writing that same scene. Iliked how the bloodshot eyes of a character didn’t come into view until thescene grew tense and they filmed a closeup of the actor. I thought that wouldtranslate well in writing; add tension when my character got too close and sawthat the other character was influenced by something yet unseen. I detailed theway shadows fell over a staircase, and how the beam of light was on only themost enlightened of the characters in an ensemble cast.
This is something you can do on days when your brain is afried pancake and yet you still want to work on advancing your story. Take a TVshow or a movie that left an impression on you and take notes on the environment,or the actors’ expressions, etc. As strange as this sounds, it works well withanimation. Every single thing in awork of animation was purposely chosen to be there. Every single thing wascreated – like your writing will be. I’d say look at Satoshi Kon’sanimation process. Not only is his work a fantastic exploration of writingand storytelling, he is very purposeful in what is seen, shown, understood, andthen subverted. Think about how you’d write that, how you’d describe it. How a “quickcut” can translate into writing the impressions and feelings in a character.(ie. The smoke clouds, into a clear sky, how a character looking at one can getthe impression of another).
I’d recommend looking at Every Frame aPainting YouTube page. I know I got a swell of inspiration on how to paceout and detail a scene based on the importance of subtle details in this video.Or, if you want to think about how to construct a plot, Lindsey Ellis on YouTubeand her video essays are fantastic, too. For example, if you want to think ofhow your characters address and interact with your narrative, consider what shehas to sayabout RENT. The last minute of this video is gut-wrenchingly powerful and saysmore about the dissonance between characters and their narrative/the event thatnarrative was based on in that ONE MINUTE than months of research could tellyou. (Note, don’t watch this if you love RENT. If you love RENT, that’s okay,my wife reeaaallly does.) [note from the blog owner: I do love RENT, but thisis a really great video and I don’t disagree with anything she had to say. Stilllove RENT, but boy it’s got its problems, haha]
Aaaaand that’s all I think I have to say about that! Thank youso much for sticking with me this far! I hope something in this mess helps you.Thank you again!
In final—
Your voice moving forward with your manuscript is unique,and your voice is powerful. There will never be one like it again and there hasnever been one like it before you. There has never been a day of your life that wasn’t aproduct of chaos and mayhem from unseen struggles of the universe, and yet youmade it through some boring Tuesday! Good luck, and I’ll be rooting for you!
Sincerely, The Gay Wife
#writing#snufflypuffly#long post#too long really#the gay wife answers#sorry i am not really that funny when i sit down to write stuff out
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Reconciliation (TRR Fic)
Note: Ok @fairydustandsarcasm requested Liam and Drake fighting and making up and HOLY I was insta-inspired and had to write ASAP. Also bc I’m pretty sure PB is going to make them unrealistically makeup too quickly so… here’s my take before canon blows it all to hell XD And yeah okay it turned into a fic becaused I liked it a lot and it would’ve been too wordy for an HC lol
Also I apologize in advance if any referenced events from Book 1 or general courtly workings are wrong, this was kind rushed because I got excited and just wanted to write XD
Pairing: Drake x Riley OTP; Drake x Liam BROTP
Word count: 2243 LOL that’s ridiculous
Summary: Drake and Riley feel horrible about what their feelings for each other are doing to Liam, and Drake takes it upon himself to make things right.
Riley sits beside Drake, crying.
They met up shortly after the disaster proposal between her and Liam. She sits there with her head buried in her hands, recounting the ordeal to Drake, telling him how bad she feels in between sobs. Drake holds her in his arms, letting her rest her head against his shoulder.
“I told him, Drake,” she says fighting back another surge of tears, “I told him I love you.”
Riley thinks she feels his body stiffen.
“Riley…” he can’t seem to find the words. Moments pass and as Riley starts to regret letting those words out into the open, he turns her face towards his, his hands framing her face as he gently wipes away her tears.
He’s looking at her, unsure, but at the same time his eyes filled with tenderness and longing. Her heart is racing, afraid that telling him she loves him was too much too soon. And yet, all of it melted away when he pressed his lips to hers, and she was sure he felt the same.
Drake pulls away and leans his forehead against hers, a faint smile painted on his lips.
“I love you, too,” he whispers. For a moment all her guilt and sadness fade away into happiness. She frowns when Drake pulls away from her.
He runs his fingers through his hair, “I need to talk to Liam. Before anything else happens,I have to talk to him. I owe him that much, at least.”
“Have you had the chance to talk to him?”
Riley approached Drake who stood at the back of the crowd gathered at the palace, awaiting the King’s announcement. The announcement that was supposed to be her being engaged to him had things gone another way.
Drake sighs, “No. I haven’t been able to get near him. I think he’s avoiding me.”
“How do you know?”
“I can usually barge into his room whenever I need to talk to him. Or he invites me. Suddenly his guards ignore me and tell me he’s busy all the time and to go away. I don’t blame him though, I-” he’s interrupted when the crowd begins to stir as Liam appears to address them.
Drake’s gaze follows his best friend as he strides across the room, looking confident as always. This was the first time he saw Liam since New York and he felt a pang of guilt as their eyes met briefly across the room.
It was only a moment, but the way Liam looked at him when he recognized Drake among the crowd was… cold. His kingly charm and smile faltering for a second, before he averted his gaze and composed himself, preparing to speak.
Drake and Riley stood in silence as they listened to Liam, both of them barely breathing, anxious of what Liam would say.
“–and having rescinded my engagement with Lady Madeleine, there is the matter of my taking a wife and the queen of Cordonia.”
The crowd of nobles murmur with excitement.
“As you all know Lady Riley was framed with a scandal to remove her from the list of candidates to be queen and her name has now been cleared.”
The crowd gasps and Riley can feel dozens of eyes turn towards her in anticipation.
“However,” Liam continues, “she was not the only Lady forced out of the running that night during the Coronation. Lady Olivia was also a victim of the same plot against Lady Riley. With the other ladies having conceded to Lady Madeleine prior to my choosing her that night, Lady Riley and Lady Olivia are now the only two that remain as candidates to be queen, and if she will have me, I would like to ask Lady Olivia to be my wife and Queen.”
A wave of gasps and chatter resonate throughout the palace. Riley glances over at Olivia, whose eyes were widened in surprise, jaw dropped open. Their eyes meet and she mouths a, “What is going on?” to Riley.
Riley musters a smile despite her shock and grief at all that’s been happening lately and nods her head toward Liam, mouthing back a, “go.”
All eyes turn towards Olivia and the people part to make a path for her to meet the King. She composes herself and plasters on one of her most lady-like smiles and almost glides toward Liam.
Riley watches as Olivia places a kiss on Liam’s cheek and she gives a few words to the public.
“At least I didn’t totally ruin things for Cordonia. Clearing my name cleared hers and now you guys have a queen.”
Drake snorts, “Yeah, another one that hates me.”
After a few more words, Liam and Olivia are set to depart, and Drake sees it as a chance to speak with him. He gives a quick goodbye to Riley and moves past groups of nobles to get to Liam. He stops in his tracks when Drake grabs his arm to get his attention.
“Hey, we need to talk,” Drake says under his breath. He follows Liam’s gaze which was looking past him, and Drake turns around to find Riley behind him.
“You two certainly don’t waste time, do you,” he says coldly, brushing Drake’s hand away as he hurried towards the door with Olivia. Guards had already blocked the way before Drake could get another word in.
Liam is alone in his chambers, removing all the buckles and ribbons of his formal suit, when Drake barges through his door.
“Drake! What are you–how did you get in here?”
“Your fiance’ agreed to help me get in here as a favor,” Drake shrugs.
“She hates you.”
“I guess getting engaged put her in a good mood. Plus she may have lost a bet in New York and owes me.”
Liam lets out a sharp breath and turns his back to Drake. He continues to loosen the bow around his collar.
“So, what is this? Have you come to gloat?”
“What?”
“You two were quick to be together in public.”
“Jesus, Liam, she’s still a lady of the court she had to attend and I’m always at these things for you.”
“You speak as if we’re still friends and that should matter.”
Drake shakes his head in disbelief. Liam is always so level-headed and reasonable. Rarely has he seen him like this. But he has seen him like this. Liam was still a man, and he broke down when the worst happened in his life, just like anyone else.
“Damn it, Liam, you know how hard this feelings crap is for us both, but you’re usually up to talking about it when we get pissed at each other so… I’m sorry. I am really, really sorry for what happened between you and Riley, and that it was because of me.”
His words seemed to fall on deaf ears as Liam silently, calmly removed his sash and coat jacket, folding them neatly on the foot of his bed. Drake fumbled for the right words. His mind was racing, the silence pressured him into saying anything he thought would help.
“Liam you have to know that I didn’t pursue her. I didn’t steal her from you. I didn’t even plan on liking her it all just… happened. I didn’t–”
“And yet she loves you and not me,” Liam says resentfully, finally facing Drake. His face was twisted, slowly shifting from angry to pained to broken, “all of those times we snuck away from the court to hang out together and you two were sneaking around behind my back.”
Liam turns away again and Drake’s heart sinks. His best friend can’t even look at him and it’s his fault, he thinks.
“I treated you like a brother, Drake, how could you at least not tell me?”
Drake wonders the same thing, even though his reasons at the time seemed valid.
“You were dealing with a lot, Liam. It was never a good time to even bring this mess up. And this may not be what you want to hear and it’s probably a shitty excuse but, I thought she would pick you anyway. I didn’t think it would get to this, that there was anything to tell you about.”
“And you think that makes it all okay? That you didn't know?” Liam whirls around, pointing a finger at Drake.
“No, of course not I’m just explaining that–”
“Did you sleep with her? While I was courting her? While there were nights when I went on and on about how I was falling in love with her?”
Drake wonders how long he’s been holding onto that thought. How it must have eaten at him thinking that it had gotten that far right under his nose.
“What? No. No. Liam I wouldn’t dare. You’re my best friend. I fell for her, yes, but I wasn’t going to make a mess of things by taking it that far before we spoke.”
Liam studies him, an unreadable expression on his face, “I don’t believe it.”
“What?”
“You’re claiming you what, kept her at arm’s length? Yet she fell in love you. You must have done something.”
Drake can feel his frustration boil into anger. How could Liam accuse him of lying to him?
“We talked! All those times you asked me to look after her and we would just talk and we got to know each other, that’s it,” Drake says grabbing his arm, imploring him to listen, “We care about you, Liam, we wouldn’t do this to you on purpose! I’m sorry it happened and that it happened this way. I was prepared to let her go and be with you if that was what she wanted.”
He know he’s hurt Liam beyond measure. Though he hopes he could at least ease the pain and reassure his friend that it wasn’t a malicious move against him. That he always thought of Liam first, even if he wanted to be with Riley with every part of his being.
“Intent doesn’t matter, Drake,” Liam yanks his arm away from Drake, “I looked like a fool down on one knee, prepared to give my life to a woman who didn’t love me.”
Drake winces at the bitterness and grief in his voice. The silence that follows seems to last an eternity.
“I’m sorry. All I can say now is I’m sorry,” he pleads, reaching for Liam again.
“Get your hands off me!” Liam shoves Drake away and he stumbles backward.
"Go ahead!” he yells back, “Yell at me some more if you want, punch me in the face if you need to, I probably deserve it, come on.”
Drake is egging him on, hoping that if words couldn’t get through, maybe getting Liam to express it this way would help.
“I just might if you don’t get out of my face, Drake,” Liam warns.
“Do it, come on!”
Liam squares his shoulders and his chest puffs out as he takes a step towards Drake. His fist clenches at his side, and in the next moment, releases.
Liam shakes his head, “Just go, Drake. Please.”
Drake frowns. He turns to leave, giving up hope that this would get anywhere. He thinks about how admirable his friend is. How, if the tables were turned, he would’ve taken that punch, and now he feels worse knowing that even when his friend was broken, he refused to hurt others. Drake stops at the door.
“No. I am not leaving until we sort something out. I’ll be damned if I let you do this again.”
“Do what,” Liam scoffs.
“Disappear! Retreat into yourself. You locked yourself away when there was that attempt on your life years ago and I know you. You’re going to do it all again because we hurt you and you don’t know how to deal with it. You have been a brother to me, Liam, so I will always be here for you, too. I’m not leaving.”
Liam faces Drake, his anger waning. Liam is exhausted from all of the pain and resentment. He rubs his temples and walks over to the mini-bar in the corner of his chambers. Liam pours two glasses of whiskey and hands one to Drake as he gulps down the other.
They both sit on the edge of Liam’s bed for a long time, drinking whiskey.
“I know you two didn’t mean to,” Liam says, breaking the silence.
Drake is almost unsure of what he heard and looks at Liam in surprise.
“I told Riley that day that as upset as I am, I’m… happy for you both. I’m happy for you, Drake. You have always been there for me through all of these courtly functions. You tolerate it all and watch the world revolve around me. You deserve your own happiness.”
“You’re unbelievable,” Drake smiles. He’s glad Liam is so forgiving, but it always makes him feel worse at the same, “and thank you.”
“I just need time to adjust to the idea of you two. You understand, I hope.”
“Of course,” he says, clapping Liam on the shoulder.
Liam smiles at that, and he returns the gesture, “Still, I hope you would be willing to be my best man when I get married?”
Drake scoffs, “Olivia would kill you.”
“I’m sure you’d enjoy her disappointment anyway. She’ll understand.”
They laugh.
“Seriously though, Liam. Me? Would they even let you? I’m not–”
“I am the King, and I can have my best friend by my side as my best man.”
Drake chuckles and raises his glass to Liam, “So be it.”
#oh look a fic iasdofasoij#drake walker#king liam the sexy#trr#playchoices#my fic#request#hc request#fic request#runs away#wow am i uncertain i got any of this shit right lol have fun with this blather
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Unpredictable Pt. 3
Requested: Nope
Hey boo’s, because of the amount of requests I got, here is part three! I’ve also decided it’s going to be the last part. I’d like to say a huge thank you for liking this little series, you’re all amazing, and thank you for reading!
I also wrote this chapter listening to Shameless by: The Weeknd, I tried to find a link for it but there was like none on YouTube, just people that did covers and I didn’t want that oops.
If you listen to it, it will probably put you in feels. Who am I kidding it totally will oops.
Also, please give me feedback! It’s really appreciated! I hope you all enjoyed this little mini series and thanks for reading and being bomb ass people. :)
Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader
Description: Your brother is Harrison Osterfield, and your his younger sister (by like a few months, which he always teases you about which results in you both arguing), Tom is Harrison’s best friend, you’ve known him forever, but recently you started to feel different around him, making you rethink everything and worry about what Harrison would do it he found out the truth.
Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sex.. again.. um.. bYE, and fluff aw.
Word Count: 3,064 (it’s so wordy oml.. SORRY)
A/N: So Tom just dropped a new picture which made me feel so many emotions?!1/?!/?1 And I’m listening to Shameless so asdfdklkjfsk. I sinned, maybe, we don’t know. Ngl this final chapter will make you go on an emotional rollercoaster, whoops.
You woke up to the sound of snoring, turning on your side you saw the most beautiful image you could ever see, spread out in your bed laid Tom, his hair messily in his face, the sheets covering his lower half of his body as his toned chest was left exposed.
You smiled, running your index finger across his forehead to push a few curls that had fallen over his eyes, making him mumble something in his sleep.
Last night was something you’d both truly remember, you’d never experienced anything like that before, and you knew that was Tom’s objective since you had been provoking him all day, and went on that date.
You sat up in your bed, running your fingers over your neck, there were way more purple and red marks than before, making it even more of a challenge to hide them from Harrison.
You carefully got out of the bed, trying not to wake Tom as you grabbed his t-shirt, slipping it over your head, braless of course.
You looked yourself over in your mirror, Tom really did a number on you, you could see his fingerprints on your shoulders faintly, giving you goosebumps at the memories as they flooded back into your head.
You both had certain kinks, only making it even more heated and intense than it was before. Tom loved the feeling of your fingers, especially when you ran your fingers through his brown curly locks of hair, only to surprise him by tugging on them when least expected. You however, you loved how his hands would fit perfectly around your throat, yes, you had that wonderful choking kink, and Tom did it fabulously.
Needless to say, you both barely slept a wink last night, and you could barely walk.
You were thankful that Harrison never decided to check on you at anytime, if he had, that would of been the end of both of you.
You weren’t sure how you would ever break the news to your brother, it wasn’t something you could straight up and say ’oh by the way, I just fucked your best friend last night, hope you don’t mind.’
It just wasn’t that easy, and now you were sure it was going to be even harder to keep it a secret.
“Did I ever mention you look hot as fuck in my clothes?” Tom mumbled, a grin on his face as he looked at your outfit.
You rolled your eyes playfully, doing a little twirl in his shirt, making him laugh and rest against your headboard.
“Did I ever mention that it’s going to be impossible to hide all of these from my brother? Thank you, very much Holland.” You muttered, motioning towards all the marks on your neck.
“I told you, I was going to mark you, because you’re mine.” Tom smirked, looking over his handy work on your neck, a feeling of accomplishment on his face. “Plus, it’s not like it’s going to be easy for me to explain how I left with nothing and come back the next day with all these marks on me.” Tom raised an eyebrow at you, making you smirk at him.
You shrugged your shoulders, looking at all the purple and red marks on his neck and chest.
“Don’t forget those delicious marks on your back.” You teased, making him shake his head and chuckle at you.
“How could I ever forget those? It was the best moment of my life.” He winked, making your cheeks redden, something he loved doing to you.
“Well, as nice as this was, I can’t have Harrison find you in here, so if you’d like to live and see another day, I’d recommend you run now.” You sucked in your bottom lip, crawling onto your bed.
“I hate that we have to do this behind his back, but at the same time it just makes it even more fun.” He grinned, before placing a gentle kiss to your lips.
He grabbed his clothes, letting you stay in his t-shirt, because he loved seeing you in his clothing, before he disappeared out your window.
You made sure he got down carefully, waving a goodbye to him before he disappeared, you quickly shut your window before going to hide all the marks on your neck.
It took you a good hour to hide everything Tom had done, once you knew you were in the safe zone, you went down to the kitchen where Harrison was already making breakfast.
“Hey Y/N, how was your sleep.” Harrison spoke, startling you as you took a seat at the counter.
“Uh, it was good, why?” You asked, your heart starting to race nervously.
“Oh, no reason, just next time you should warn your brother before you sneak company over.” Harrison shrugged, before turning around and glaring at you, making your face turn a deep red.
Were you guys really that loud?
“Sorry Haz..” You mumbled, taking a sip of your tea as Harrison pushed your breakfast in front of you.
“So, who was the guy? Was it the guy from your date?” Harrison pressed on, watching you intently.
“Uh.. -Yeah, -Yup, that was him, -Totally.” You nodded, shoving a forkful of eggs into your mouth as Harrison eyed you suspiciously.
“Y/N, you’re my sister, and you’re an extremely horrible liar, so why don’t you tell me what the actual hell is going on.” Harrison demanded, making your face pale slightly, you didn’t even know where to begin.
You decided to ignore his question, shoving more eggs into your mouth as the doorbell rang, making you let out a sigh of relief as Harrison went to get it.
“Hey man! Come in, we’re just having breakfast and I made extra so you can join us if you’d like.” Harrison offered, as Tom walked into the house, following Harrison back to the kitchen.
You felt your stomach drop, this was going to be interesting.
“Hey Y/N.” Tom smiled, making you glare at him slightly.
“Tom and I are going to audition today, so please don’t do anything while I’m gone okay?” Harrison pleaded, as you responded with a slight nod.
You glanced over at Tom, who was sipping his coffee he had just made, two can play this game.
You got a forkful of your eggs, slowly placing them into your mouth, before pulling the fork out slowly. You knew Tom was watching, you could see it out of the corner of your eye, and you couldn’t help but smirk as you saw him clench his jaw.
“So, Harrison, how do you feel about auditioning? I know you do a lot of short films but this is your first real big movie audition.” Tom grinned, high fiving his best friend as Harrison rolled his eyes, laughing.
“I mean I’m nervous as hell, but I think it’ll be alright.” You watched your brother shrug, taking a bite of his food, as Tom sat down next to you.
“What about you Y/N? How do you feel about Harrison auditioning?” Tom questioned, looking over at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
You bit your tongue, before looking at your brother who actually looked interested in what you had to say.
“Honestly, Tom,” You said his name sarcastically, making him chuckle, “I’m really happy for Haz, as much as we argue and bicker all the time it’s nice to see him passionate and happy about something.” You answered honestly, watching a smile form on your brothers lips.
“That is the nicest thing you have ever said to me.” Harrison smiled, making you smile back at him, it was true, you were deeply happy for him.
“Shit, I have to go get ready, our audition is in twenty minutes, I’ll be right back.” Harrison stood up from his chair quickly before disappearing up stairs, leaving you alone with Tom.
“You like to push my buttons don’t you?” Tom shook his head at you, making you laugh quietly.
“Oh I’m sorry, did me eating eggs turn you on? Poor wittle Tommy.” You puckered your bottom lip, faking a tear falling down your face as Tom glared at you.
“Do you think it’s okay to tease me when your brother is around?” Tom growled quietly, causing chills to go up your spine.
“I think I can do what I want, when I want, to whoever, I want.” You smirked, as you watched Tom visibly stiffen, before sitting down on a stool next to you.
You felt his hand rest on your thigh, making you choke on your eggs a bit, you weren’t expecting that, at all.
“If you’re going to tease me, then I’m sure as hell going to tease you too darling.” Tom smirked, watching you squirm at his touch, even more when Harrison came back into the kitchen.
“Did I miss anything?” Harrison questioned, looking between the two of you, he could sense something had happened.
“Nope, just waiting on you man.” Tom shrugged, before glancing at you as you were trying to fight his hand off your leg.
“Y/N, maybe while we’re gone you should shower, you’re sweaty as hell.” Harrison groaned, grabbing his keys and script before heading for the door, Tom followed behind, but not before pressing his back against yours.
“When we get back, you’re so going to get it darling.” He whispered into your ear, making you shiver at his words.
The sexual tension between the two of you was unbearable, how your brother didn’t see that was beyond you.
Once you heard them leave you sprinted to take a shower, Harrison was right, you were sweaty, thanks to Tom and his fucking hands, sometimes you hated him for that reason.
The entire time they were gone you actually were productive, you cleaned your room, did your homework, which you probably did wrong, but it’s the effort that counts right?
You were sitting at your desk typing a paper when you heard talking from downstairs, it had been a few hours since they had left.
“Y/N, we’re back!” Harrison shouted, as you shouted an ’okay!’ back, as you finished up your paper.
You walked downstairs, seeing both of them outside at the pool, drinking some beers, you felt this was the perfect time to get back at him.
You walked outside, quietly approaching behind Tom before running your hands up his back, making him freeze at your touch.
“Hey guys, how was auditions?” You smiled, walking in front of them, seeing your brothers happy smile and Tom’s intense glare at you.
“They went great I believe, I think I really have a chance.” Harrison smiled excitedly, as you gave a thumbs up, before looking at Tom.
“What about you Holland?” You smirked, watching him struggle with his words.
“I think I did alright.” He huffed, before going to sit down somewhere far away from you.
You gave a shrug to Harrison, before wandering back inside, like you said before, two can play this game.
Day soon turned to night, and you were laying in your room, watching a movie with a bowl of popcorn when you heard your window open.
“Well hello stranger.” You teased, popping a piece of popcorn in your mouth as you watched Tom take his jacket off.
“You truly like to test me don’t you Y/N?” He chuckled darkly, making your eyes widen slightly.
You gave a small shrug, watching as he approached you slowly, making you freeze in your current position.
Sooner or later you both were in a heated makeout session, forget the movie, this was way better.
“W-We need to b-be quiet, H-Haz can h-hear..” You mumbled in-between kisses, but at this point Tom didn’t even care anymore.
“Let him hear.” He growled out, as you combed your fingers through his hair, things getting even more heated than before.
You both were so into the moment and each other you didn’t even hear the door open, revealing one shocked Harrison.
“-OKAY, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS HAPPENING HERE?” Harrison yelled, startling the both of you as you both scooted away from each other.
“-WHAT THE FUCK MAN, THAT’S MY SISTER?” Harrison shouted, glaring at his best friend before looking at you, furry in his eyes.
“-AND YOU, HOW COULD YOU HOOK UP WITH MY BEST FRIEND, OF ALL PEOPLE Y/N!” Harrison screamed, making you shut your eyes tightly, this wasn’t how he was supposed to find out.
“Harrison, buddy, calm down, we can explain.” Tom spoke carefully, seeing that his best friend was a raging ball of furry.
Harrison took a deep breath, his eyes shut tightly.
“What is there to explain Tom? You fucked my sister, and you both were hiding this behind my back!” Harrison shouted, making you cover your face, your eyes getting watery.
“Haz, please! You have to understand, we didn’t want to tell you because of this reason.” You cried out, making him shake his head and laugh.
“Y/N, I have every right to be the way I am right now.” Harrison glared, looking between the two of you.
“No, no you don’t, you may be my brother, but I can date who I want, and I,” You paused, looking over at Tom who was watching you intently.
“I-I love him Haz.” You smiled slightly at Tom who’s face lit up, a smile forming on his lips.
“W-What?” Harrison stuttered, looking at you in shock, there was only one other time you had said you loved someone other than him, and it was your first real boyfriend that broke your heart.
“He makes me so happy Haz, I haven’t felt like this in a long time.” You admitted, watching your brothers face soften.
“He really does mean a lot to you doesn’t he?” Harrison spoke calmly, looking at how you were looking at Tom.
“He really does.” You smiled shyly, watching Tom grin and rub his thumb on your cheek gently.
You all sat there quietly before Harrison let out a sigh.
“Alright fine, you two can date, just be careful okay?” Harrison pinched the bridge of his nose, as you squealed with happiness.
“-BUT,” He interrupted, pointing a finger at Tom who’s eyes widened, “If you do anything to hurt my baby sister I will end you, got it? I don’t care if you’re my best friend or not.” Harrison glared, as Tom nodded rapidly, holding his hands up in surrender.
Harrison gave one more approving nod before leaving your room, you felt your heart beating out of your chest, that wasn’t what you were expecting to happen that night.
But as the night went on, you snuggled against his chest as he played with your hair as you both watched whatever movie was on TV, you finally felt at home, and it didn’t occur to you till now that Tom was your home, he always had been.
You felt him kiss your head, mumbling something into your hair.
“And for the record, I love you too.”
#tom holland#tom holland x reader#tom x reader#tom holland imagine#tom holland imagines#harrison osterfield#harrison osterfields sister#peter parker#peter parker imagine#peter parker imagines#peter parker x reader#peter x reader#iron man#tony stark#robert downey jr#rdj#captain america#chris evans#zendaya#michelle#mj#jacob batalon#ned#liz allan#laura harrier#michael keaton#donald glover#marvel#mcu#reblog
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