#...i think that's just from reading it when 12 so unused to such things

[volixia669]

Vampire Chronicles Basics

Okay, with the new Interview with the Vampire show coming out, there’s probably going to be some folks who might be curious about the books and wondering why there’s so much disrespect towards the author. This probably isn’t the ONLY primer, but like, whatever.

Note: I never got around to reading all of her books, and some of this is drawing from memory though wikipedia is helpful.

Contextual History Lesson Time!

As a media criticism type person, I find it important to not examine media in a vacuum, and take into account what was happening at the time it was created.

The timing of the first three books is notable. Interview with a Vampire was released in 1976, The Vampire Lestat was released in 1985, and Queen of the Damned was released in 1988.

So we have one book with gay subtext released post free love movement but prior to gay folks becoming more known in society, then two more released during the aids crisis with the queer subtext/text still going strong. This? This is huge. Reportedly, there were people sending Anne Rice letters about how amazing it was to see themselves in the characters. Some these days might roll their eyes at how subtext might be revolutionary, but please understand. During the aids crisis, the queer community, particularly gay men, were being blamed and discriminated against to horrifying levels to the point gay men still can’t give blood.

So for a book series to have not only the metaphor of penetration and being an outbut but also have these characters seem very gay? It’s huge! It’s like a weight being lifted off, even just temporairly, while you go, “Someone sees me and my situation.”

The Vampire Lestat even had Lestat’s mother questioning her gender and deciding to dress and act more masculine. Sure, these days we’d call it “problematic” trans rep for many reasons, but back in 1985? Except for certain more indie films, trans people weren’t even talked about.

Which is a huge reason the series got big among the queer community, others caught wind, and eventually that movie with Brad Pitt was made.

And now we’re in the 90s with a few things happening. One of which being Anne Rice uh...Firing her editor? Not bothering with an editor? Whatever happened, the quality of writing goes downhill.

Additionally, Anne Rice was going through...a lot, and it shows in her writing. She started as one sect of Christianity, left it after a family member died, was athiest/agnostic for awhile, then went to a different sect of Christianity when another family member died, then eventually was in her own thing of believing in God & Jesus but not following any particular sect. Then she died.

This is relevant, as we see Lestat go from prissy rockstar to literally meeting Jesus. So. There’s that.

Another thing that happened in the 90s was the internet becoming bigger, resulting in things like forums, chatgroups, livejournal, and essentially online fandom. People in the Vampire Chronicles fandom began sharing their fanfiction.

Anne Rice hated that. It was her world, her property, her Gary-Stu, and therefore only she could write Vampire Chronicles. She began suing anyone who was writing fanfiction, yes, even the broke teenagers.

She wasn’t the only one doing this of course, but she was certainly adamant about it. Additionally, there’s an emotional element too. Because her work was one of the few popular media where queers could see themselves in, it was like a betrayal to have her say, “No, I hate anyone who loves this world so much they’d write fic.” (not a real quote btw just how it felt)

This is why many fanfic writers in the 2000s, early 2010s, and a few even today write disclaimers at the top of their fic. Because a “I do not own this property. This property belongs to blah blah blah” was one of the few defenses (however flimsy) fanfic writers had. It’s also why, as of the last time I checked ff.net, Anne Rice’s works are not allowed on that site.

That said, from this backlash against fandom, Archive of Our Own and its lawyers were born. The volunteers of OT3 are why y’all will be able to write Lestat fucking Louis into next week and post it there without worrying about Anne Rice’s estate hounding you.

The Books Themselves

So! With that lengthy history done, what about the books? To start off with, while the movie, and this new show are called “Interview with the Vampire”, that’s just the first book. The series as a whole are The Vampire Chronicles.

So we’ve got:

Interview with the Vampire (1976)

The Vampire Lestat (1985)

The Queen of the Damned (1988)

The Tale of the Body Thief (1992)

Memnoch the Devil (1995, the one where Lestat meets Jesus, a lot of people hate it, I think its hilarious with some interesting theological points)

New Tales of the Vampires-Pandora (1998, prequel about an older Roman vampire) New Tales of the Vampires-Vittorio the Vampire (1999, another prequel, about a 15th century Italian Nobleman vampire)

The Vampire Armand (1998, it’s Armand’s story and also I maintain the first 60 pages reads like an M-rated fanfic on ff.net, which is objectively hilarious imho)

Merrick (2000, crossover with another her series called the Mayfair Witches)

Blood and Gold (2001, now the ancient vampire Marius gets his own origin story.)

Blackwood Farm (2002, more Mayfair Witches crossover)

Blood Canticle (2003, EVEN MORE CROSSOVER also was originally gonna be a conclusion buuuuuuuuuuut)

Prince Lestat (2014, Lestat is back and is facing pressure to lead the vampires because I guess all the ones with enough of a brain cell to go that would be a TERRIBLE idea are dead)

Prince Lestat and the Realms of Atlantic (2016, I guess we’re now in Atlantis?)

Blood Communion (2018)

As you can see there’s a lot of books and content. Especially because Vampire Chronicles wasn’t her only series. On top of her erotic romance series that even my “sure you can watch Criminal Minds while 9 years old” mom was like, “Do not touch that,” she had her Tales of the Mayfair Witches series, which AMC incidentally also has the rights for. So...Lots of books, one world with vampires and witches and Jesus.

However, because of the drop in quality as well as the level of batshittery (no I’m still not over Lestat going to fucking Atlantis), last I checked the main reads are the first three, with Vampire Armand also being thrown in because I mean, after you see Antonio Banderas as Armand you want to know more about him.

Of course by all means! Read more of the books! Maybe you’ll get a laugh like I did! Maybe the quality doesn’t seem so bad to you! Maybe you enjoy batshittery! 

And if you don’t want to give the Anne Rice estate more money because she was a bad person, there’s plenty of libraries that have the books! Trust me. They do. Some might even have them in ebook version, so you can use apps like overdrive or libby to check them out without even leaving your house!

Appropriation in Vampire Chronicles

This is gonna be short since I’m sure there’s whole pieces about this and I don’t have the books in front of me nor am I part of any of these cultures, but I do want to run over that yes, there’s certainly some cultural appropriation in this series, particularly of Egyptian Culture, but also of voodoo and creole culture.

I want to warn of this, so it doesn’t catch anyone off guard, especially since “Merrick” and “Queen of the Damned” in particular are uh. Full of this. I also have no idea if the more recent books are any better in this regard.

That said, I’m curious about how the AMC tackles these aspects, as its already quite clear they’re not following the books 1:1, which is actually going to make for a better story.

Hopefully all that is helpful!

[jocelynscrazyideas]

Love Me the way You love Her | Jack Hughes x Reader

warning: language, door slamming, breakup, emotional distress. Cheating?

Summary: Jack and y/n go through an argument. Jack has a past with getting with y/ns bsf. Eva- always there for y/n basckstabs.

A:N- I’m scared that this wont make sense.. anyway here!! First Jack blurb! And it’s an emotional angst!!

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

I’m driving back to my apartment. It’s about 11:27 and it’s pitch black. Stars are shining in the night sky. The moon is out, glistening, telling me to finish my work.

Jack is out clubbing, well as I thought. I think he’s out partying with some other skank, and the other devils won’t tell me about it. I’m done. I know it’s just a stereotype thing about hockey guys paying with women, but I’m serious.

I packed a few bags from jacks house that he shared with Luke. I took all of my clothes, my phone charger, my computer, camera, iPad, and all of the charging cords for them and followed by a few blankets and hair straighteners and other hot tools. I packed all of my 103 pairs of shoes. I made sure nothing I cared about was left at the stupid bulging I called home.

I took my pictures I had of me and Jack off the walls and threw them in the ground. I left the place with glass in the wood planks on the ground and the pictures of me and the Hughes family sitting there, waiting to be noticed.

Luke is out with Jack, and I know Jack is out with some girl named Eva. I’m so tired of being parinoid, so I checked his location.

Jack told me he was out at the pizza place with the boys. Boys as in John, Dawson, Luke, Jesper, Nate, and Jonas. I know for sure that John, Luke and Nate are true.

I texted Jonas asking if Jack was with him, he responded with a plain answer, “no. Sorry.” I know Jonas knows what Jack is up to, so I texted him again,

~

Where is he then.

I’m not sure, you’d have to ask him.

That’s a lie, I know you guys talk at practice, just tell me. I want to ask him to get me some food when he comes home, but he won’t answer my texts and calls.

Okay, I’ll let him know.

~

And that’s it. So I texted John. I know John can’t lie to me, so I asked him thorough questions.

~

Where are you?

At the club, Jack and I are heading out to the bar soon.

Is Luke with you guys?

Yes, and so is Bratter, and Bash.

Okay, thx.

Np, but you want me to deliver a message to Jack?

No.

~

Great, so not only did Jack lie to me, but so did Luke. I pull into my aprtament complex’s parking garage. I park in my signature parking spot and I lock my doors as I hop out.

I don’t have the energy to carry all four bags back into my room so o carry only two. I bring in my important stuff, my clothes and my electronics.

I set my things down so I can unlock my door on the 7th floor. I know it’s going to be empty, cold, dark, and un crowded. Unfortunately, I moved all of my stuff into Jacks place, stupid idea.

Before Eva cut into my relationship with Jack, Jack and I lasted about 4 years. I’m pretty sure I’ll cry in the morning. So I unpack everything now.

12:34

~

Text from Buba💗:

where are u?!

Answer my text rn.

I’m driving over.

Are you at your apartment?

Just text me baby!

Are you dead?

Cmon please?

What did I do!

You smashed our pictures, it’s ok. I’ll clean it up later.

~

I left him on read, I’m sure as hell not dealing with him. I finish unpacking, and I jump in the shower. Nice warm water, un opened shampoo and conditioner, unused body wash, a brand new loofa. A new tooth brush and toothpaste. Flossing my teeth, a new hairbrush. My makeup, that I forgot to mention… yeah I brought it too but it’s in my car, I thought that I would be too busy crying to do my makeup.

After my night routine, I realized I haven’t eaten, so I cooked up a grilled cheese, it was delicious. I revrushed my teeth and re flossed and I head to bed.

-4:15-

I wake up to pounding on my door.

“Y/N OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!” Jack screams out.

He’ll wake up the neighbors.

I get up from bed, i do t use the lights, i have to make him think im still sleeping, but I crawl on my knees to the door. I look at the crack between the door and the floor, I can see two feet and I know it’s Jack.

“please, baby, I know you’re there. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did, but I love you.”

“That’s bullshit.” I respond, no time to think. I get up from the ground and I ublock the door. Then, within a second I lock it agin. I don’t want to face him right now. I’m in my safe place, my home.

“No it’s not.” Jack says I can hear his guilt in his voice. He knows what he did.

“Eva.” I say as my voice trails off, I can’t help it. I hit my back against the door and I slide down to my butt. My knees up against my chest as I warp my legs in my arms. I sit there against my door, and my used to be love of my life on the other side. I feel my eyes burning, my throat starts to close. I look up at the ceiling light and back down to my red toenails. I start to cry, actually not crying, but bawling.

I cant breathe, it hurts to know my lungs taht I used to catch my breath after going on runs with Jack are being ised.

I can’t stop crying, because I know I didn’t have to cry when I was with Jack.

“I think we should break up.” I maanage to get out from my croaky voice.

I feel Jack put his fist down from the door and he slides down to the same position I’m sitting in. His head agisnt mine, but on the other side.

I hide my head in my knees as I cry, and cry.

“I love you. I really do.” Jack says as he cry’s as well. I can hear him sniffle.

“no, this is the last time i want to hear your voice.” I say, and I get up and slam my bathroom door, letting him know I’m not at the front door of my apartment.

“Please, y/n, stay.”

“This is the last time I’m asking you this, this is the last time. Jack you broke my heart before and I’m not letting it happen again.” I cried out. My tears all over my green tank top, and my pink silky pajama shorts.

“Please.” Jack bellows out, I need him to know if he loves me he’ll let me leave.

Last time he hurt me, I found out he was at a bar dancing with a girl name Sarah, but Sarah was my best friend.

“I’m hurt, Jack just go.”

“It’ll be fixed right? I mean we’ve been through this before! We can fix this!” Jack plead through the door, I can hear the pain in his voice, the hurt in his chest. But i need to rember that he hurt me, and it’s happen before, this was his second as his only chance to fix it.

“no. Jack you got Eva. Go hang out with her.” I cry out. U throw his favorite picture of us together under the door.

It’s a picture of us at the Hoboken Fair. I’m in his arms, his head resting on mine. We both are cheesing, his smile goes end to end, mine is so big you can see my dimples disappear. My eyes in so much love, his eyes set on the camera, I can tell he loves me. I’m dressed in a blue hoodie, that was reeking of jacks cologne, and my shorts were halara skorts.

loved.

It was never love, it was a story that he made up.

He passed under my favorite picture of us.

I was wearing low rise jeans, the ones that go under your belly button, and sit on your hips. I was wearing a small belt, and it had hearts on the pockets that covered my ass. My shirt was a cropped black leather tube top, and I had a really cute shoulder bag on, and Jack was an accessory that clung to my left side. I had my black heels boots on with red bottoms.

Jack was wearing a white striped button down Hawaiian style shirt that was in buttoned and he showed of his abs. Hes wearing my favorite shorts on him, his Nike woven flow shorts in black. He has his favorite white air forces on.

His hair was at his natural curly state, and mine was on a blowout, with curls in a tight half up half down, on top I had braids and I had blue sunglasses that matched Jacks hat.

“You miss our music festies?” Jack asks in a heartbroken tone.

“I’m serious Jack. We need to break up.”

“No. We can fix it.”

“No we can’t.”

“I’ll change, baby I can’t lose you.” Jack harmonized with the deep sound of my fridge.

Jack gets up, his shadow his taller. The door gets heavier, I stand up from my countertop that sits right next to my door.

“I knew you didn’t leave. You do that all the time”

“Jack, I’m not your girl anymore.”

“fine.”

I check the under the door. His shadow is gone, his shoes aren’t at my door. I open the dorr, check if it’s okay for me to sneak out.

Perfect.

I grab my electronics, my clothes, hairbrush, toothbrush, and my shower products. I head to my car. I sit in my drivers seat thinking if a safe place.

Last time this happened, John housed me. This time it’s different.

Jack and I broke up this time. I give my apartment an email:

~

To whom this may concern,

I’m sad to inform you that I am no longer in need of your rentable service. Room 179 on the 7th wing will be open for a new service. I’ll gather my things, what’s left may be used for the next, or be stored, if not needed you may contact me at (your number).

Sincerly,

Y/n Y/l/n

~

I already packed everything, I just need to grab my- actually I have everything. So I drive off and I remembered I left the keys at the front desk before I left. So I truly checked out.

-12:15 PM-

It’s been two days since I left my apartment, I have found myself at my bestfriends house, Liz

Jack called me.

~

“Where have you been?”

“Home.”

“No, your home, is at my house that Luke and I share. It’s your home, you have a bed, a shower, a kitchen, and you have someone who loved you.”

“No, Jack we broke up. It’s not your problem anymore.”

~

Why did I even answer. I’m over him, I need to heal, it’s for me to be happy. I hear a knock on Liz’s door so I open up.

“Y/N! Please!” Jack says as I open Liz’s front door.

“Go away.”

“Please”

“How did you find me?”

“I know you.”

“No, no you don’t.”

I shut the door and I go on my phone to block his number. I delete I’m his contact, and I unfollow him on Instagram, TikTok, and I un add him on Snapchat. I left him loose. He’s gone.

the last time ill ever feel him pain me.

“I just wish you loved me the way you love her!!” I scream at the door knowing Jack is still standing there. Again, I cry.

“I broke it off with Eva!” Jack says, trying to make me consider being with him again.

I rember the photo that Jack loves, the one of us at the fair. Eva took that photo. He wasn’t staring at me, he was staring at the camera- or so I thought. He was actually looking at Eva.

My favorite picture, us at the music festival, who took the oicture? Eva did, the pretty ashy blonde Eva.

“no, it’s always been Eva. I just seriously wish you loved me the way you loved her.”

[pencil-peach]

G Witch Onscreen Text: Episode 12

And so, we have reached part 13 in my attempt to transcribe and discuss the text that appears on monitors and screens in G Witch (and talk about stuff I think is cool)

This is the Episode 12, the season 1 finale: "Keep Marching on Instead of Running Off."

<< Click Here to go back to Episode 11

Oh, but you'll have to change before you can join me under the cut.

You have to wear a normal spacesuit while reading this post...

Like episode 11, this episode is actually very light on text, (for obvious reasons..) so I'll also spend some more time discussing little things in the episode I think are interesting.

The text on the panel for the EV (Elevator) reads C BLOCK No. C - 6 The EV is arriving shortly.

It also has 3 symbols on the bottom, with one crossed out. It's hard to know what they mean, but my best guess is: - Communication (Which is currently unusable due to the attack) - Multi-Directional (As in, isn't a one way elevator, can go back and forth) - Capacity (In this case, multiple people can use it at once.)

Also, in this scene, Miorine talks about "opening the bulkhead from the control center." What she means is she wants to find the control center so she can open the giant wall that separated her and Suletta. The first thing that both girls thought of doing when they were separated was rescuing the other.

Also, also, the fact that C Block still has some semblance of power despite having been fully disconnected from the rest of the plant must mean that every individual block must have some sort of reserve power system in case something like this happens. I wonder how expensive this place was to build....

I really like the scene where we see Sophie activate Permet Score 4, because I think they put so much focus on it in order to put a lot of things we've seen earlier into perspective.

Up until now, we've only seen 3 characters (other than Eri but she doesn't count) activate Permet Score 4: Nadim in the prologue, El4n in episode 6, and now Sophie.

I think the first thing we can see when we compare these instances is how, broadly, Gundam Pilots have generally been made to become more resilient to Permet in the 21 years since Vanadis.

As far as we can tell, Nadim was probably one of the most skilled Gundam Pilots at Vanadis. (Other than Eri but she's like. cheating.)

Even acknowledging that he hadn't piloted a Gundam in some time (He says as much when he first activates Permet 3), he's still incredibly adept at controlling GUND Bits and nearly singlehandedly holds off the attack by Cathedra. (Thought Wendy's efforts must also definitely be acknowledged.)

When Wendy starts suffering from Permet exposure, Nadim tells her that she can't raise her score any higher

We never see or hear exactly which score she's at, but her Gundam is deactivated by the Antidote, which only works up to Score 3. So she's either at 2 - 3, and she's clearly suffering its effects harder than Nadim, who's also at 3 at this point.

But despite Nadim's clear adeptness at Piloting the Lfrith and his much stronger resilience to Permet, when he activates Score 4, he dies nigh instantly. He doesn't survive longer than a minute.

When Gundams had first been developed, Score 3 was considered the absolute limit, both in terms of what a human could bear and what Gundam tech could handle.

We can see this reflected on the Lfrith itself. When first launched, and up to Score 3, Lfrith's body appears completely normal.

But when he activates Score 4, its entire body glows bright red as opposed to just its GUND components. A sign that its bearing a load it can't handle.

And when Nadim finally dies, we can see its body is also horribly scarred with Permet Burns.

Sophie's Permet 4 scene is a showcase of how Gundam Tech has evolved in the 21 years since Vanadis.

When Sophie activates Permet 4, she's pushing up against the human limit. Her heart is pounding so fast and so hard we can hear it over the music. She says she can't breathe and might even throw up, and unlike El4n, she's not an Enhanced Person. She's entirely unaugmented, but unlike Nadim, she lives.

Gundam Pilots have become more resilient since Vanadis, but also of note is that they've also gotten younger. We don't know the ages of Nadim, Wendy, and Elnora, but they're all clearly adults. In fact, we only ever see Adults piloting Gundams in the prologue. When Prospera realizes Eri reached Layer 33, she's horrified, and I wouldn't be surprised in part because a child piloting a Gundam is just something that had never been done before.

But now, Gundams are piloted almost EXCLUSIVELY by young people. Younger people are raised and trained and experimented on at earlier and earlier ages because it seems that, for some reason, they are just better at being able to handle them.

The tech has also improved much since then. Whenever Lfrith Ur reaches score 4, that device on its shoulder unfurls and activates, and retracts when it goes back under. the Ur and Thorn were built off of the pre-production Lfrith models, and in order to get around its Score limitations, they just added an extra Permet Processing unit to its back to bear the extra load.

El4n is a special case, and his reaction to Score 4 in comparison to Nadim and Sophie stands as a testament to the effectiveness of Bel's Artificial Nervous System. At Score 4, El4n acts more like he's under the symptoms an unenhanced person would experience at Score 3.

All that suffering just to reduce the permet load by 1. How sad.

Anyway, the EMERGENCY EXIT Suletta uses is labaled as an EVACUATION PASSAGE.

It also has the same 3 symbols as on the elevator. If we try and apply the same labeling method as I used on the elevator, then.. -Communication (Offline) -Direction - One Way -Capacity - 1 person. The direction and Capacity make sense, but the communication is a little dubious? Maybe that symbol designates if it leads to an exit or something....

Normally, when Miorine refers to her dad, she calls him "Kusoyaji," which is a portmanteau of "Kuso" (a general swear word usually meaning 'damn' or 'shit'), and "oyaji" (which is a word for father) Calling him a terrible dad, but in this scene after he protects her and she sees that he's critically wounded, she shouts "Otou-san!" instead, which is a more common/respectful word to use for your father. This is localized into English as having Miorine usually call him a "Lousy Father," or something similar, but in this scene she just calls him "Dad"

We also learn a little more about Notrette in this scene, as when Delling tells Miorine to choose the best option of survival and leave him, he says it's what Notrette would do, and that they'd both decided at some point that if anything happened, one of them had to survive in order to raise her.

It's not much, but it seems that Notrette was a very logically minded person, who always looked toward the future in her decisions. I wouldn't doubt that Delling tried to save her, but left without her at her own insistence.

Sometimes I feel as though this scene is paralleling that incident in a way we can't know, and Miorine managing to save Delling here implies that if Delling had tried and not ran away, he could have saved Notrette. But that's just speculation on my part.

There's no real way to prove this, (other than the fact that their voices sound similar) but I've always believed that the closeup of this DOF member we see when they enter the plant is the same DOF member that Suletta kills at the end of the episode.

When Vim launches in the Dilanza Sol, he comments that he worked his way up the corporate ladder by "personally claiming his rivals' heads." It's most assuredly a figure of speech, but um, well.

Like father like son.

When Guel launches in the Desultor, he tries to communicate to the Dilanza Sol, but remember, the comms are jammed, so it returns an error.

After the deed has been done, the network begins reactivating, and we see NETWORK ONLINE appear on Guel's monitor.

This is our first sign that the DOF are starting to run out of time.

I think a lot about this scene. Maybe not in the way you're supposed to think about it though. I just can't shake this idea that Prospera intentionally waited for one of the soldiers to be right in front of Suletta before killing them. She and Godoy had been standing there the whole time, on both sides of the hall. Surely there were better times to have attacked them than when they were right in front of Suletta.

Maybe I'm not giving her enough credit but wouldn't it make sense? She needs Suletta to be okay with the idea of killing someone. Wouldn't seeing her mother do it in order to save her life be perfect for that? Prospera barely comforts her afterward either. She immediately explains to her that if she hadn't done it, Suletta might have been killed, and that fighting can save everyone.

And of course, it's obvious, but I just love the symbolism in this shot. It's so good. Suletta stepping out of the darkness and crossing the line, led by her mother's blinding light, onto the bloody path. It's so good. Such a good fucking scene. Grrggrhgrh

The music that plays during this fight between Suletta and Sophie is titled AERIAL REBUILD

If you haven't already, you should give it a listen. It's genuinely one of my favorite tracks in the entire OST, top 3 at least, and we don't hear much of it in this scene.

During their duel, Sophie calls Aerial REBUILD's face "scary" and says she "liked her better before."

Aerial is no longer pretending to be a machine made for silly school duels, that line has been crossed, and its true purpose is beginning to be revealed.

The truly terrifying thing about REBUILD's GUND Bit Cannon is that we never see it at full capacity. In fact, this one time we see it, it's at its WEAKEST strength. All mobile suits used in Asticassia have a regulation program installed that limits the energy output of their beam weapons. (With this restriction, all energy weapons only produce green colored beams.) Despite being off Asticassia for months now, Aerial NEVER had that program uninstalled, so its Beam Weapons are still at their lowest output. And, Despite That, the beam produced by this cannon is...

This Powerful. It's so powerful, that when Aerial uses it, you can see it have to activate its back thrusters to counteract the recoil.

It's SO powerful, that it completely melts the legs of a Desultor who just happened to GRAZE it ever so slightly.

Not to talk about future episodes here, but I actually cannot stress that it is genuinely a miracle that Miorine forcefully shut Aerial down in this moment in episode 17.

Because, and I mean this with zero exaggeration, Suletta would have ERASED GUEL and SPLIT THE SCHOOL IN HALF if she released the charge on this god damn canon.

Lord In Heaven, Prospera.

TEXT: SUBJECT: Business Correspondence FROM: Peil Technologies To: ELAN CERES HIGHEST PRIORITY

An attack has been made on Plant Quetta by the terrorist orginization 'Dawn of Fold' 2 unidentified MS using GUND FORMAT were confirmed. We will contact you later with further instructions.

This is the email 5lan receives from Peil after the DOF leave. They got that information quick, huh? I wonder how... We also see that he only ever receives Business Correspondence emails from Peil and Course Schedule updates from Asticassia in his inbox. He doesn't have any friends.

And with that, we have completed Ep 12, the entirety of Season 1! Wow...what a ride it has been thus far...

Thank you for coming on this journey with me...!

Whatever happens next, we'll face it together, won't we?

Episode 13. >>

Masterpost.

[galactikburzt]

oh hey so

I just picked up the PA editor after a long while and remade a very old character model that I made when I was younger

Details and some story about the model(s) below.

I made this particular oc when i was around 12, and the old model from the left was made when I was 13 once I got the game

And honestly? It almost hurts to leave this model behind. She was the first thing I have ever modeled in the game aside from a small single lazer I made as a test. Her model has absolutely no eyelids, her hair and arms were meant to go in separate layers because I had no idea how to even collapse objects, not to mention her arms are also unusable because I cannot find any empty parent objects on them, and it's extremely tedious to animate because she can barely have any facial expressions. This model was hell to animate but I still feel a little emotional about it. That was my first boss model and I think that's somewhat special

this new model has eyelids in both the up and down sides of each eyes, and they can be used as eyebrows too. The facial expressions are way more easy to manipulate and the model is not a mess to utilize and navigate through anymore

the arms are completely movable and you can even fold the claws into a fist if you mess with negative size, you can also spin them freely because each claw is parented to the arm which is parented to two joints, one for the individual arm and one for the entire model itself in case you need to spin both arms at the same time.

While I am still a little emotional about the old model, I am pretty much very proud of the newest one, and I am excited to see how it feels like to actually animate it on the editor. I will probably test it later when I can

With all that said, thank you for reading if you got to this point, and have a nice day.

[armpirate]

UNDER HIS SKIN || JJK || Ch. 38

Pairings: tattoist!jk x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst, friends to lovers, tattoo au, virgin reader.

Summary: They say there are two versions for every story, and it's important to hear both of them. Everybody is hearing your side of the story, but it's just fair to get to know his.

After breaking up with his girlfriend, the only thing he wanted was to have fun with no attachment. You wanted to get rid of your virginity, and he wanted to tick you off his list. What he didn't expect was getting so emotionally attached to you that he would regret the deal.

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

Aprox. time of reading: 12 minutes

After she visited me in the hospital, I didn't think I'd go almost three weeks without seeing her. Nothing. Not even once. At all. Both Soo and my mother were with me all the time, especially my mom. She just wanted to make sure that I was fine and that my condition didn't get worse over night -something that was kind of impossible, but well. 

So the only thing we've had for the past three weeks were constant texts and late night calls, where we'd both admit how bad we're missing each other.  

These days have gone by way too slow without seeing her. And the way my brain has registered every single aspect from her, and replayed it in my brain every time my head went blank didn't help. I just wanted to sink my head in the crook of her neck and lose myself in her floral scent, while she hugged me back tight.

That's why I didn't hesitate when Soo told me about Tammy's "party" to celebrate that she got the role in a play. Of course I'm happy for her and I'm going there to support her, but she isn't the main reason I'm going there -although the last thing I want tonight is to get out of my house. 

Everyone would kill me if they ever heard me saying that. 

I breathe in deeply, feeling nervous all of a sudden while I'm standing in front of the door to Tae's pub. And I'm able to hear my heart beating loud and fast against my chest when I recognize the back of her head, and I see her hair waving when she moves it. 

Tae rushes to greet me, smiling big, and seeming more excited than I am right now.

—She has no idea you were coming —he pats my arm—. Go for it.

—Jungkook! —Melanie cheers, getting our attention.

Receiving another pat from Tae before he walks behind the counter, I start making my way to their table, walking among the crowd until I finally join them. 

—I couldn't miss your party —I cheer for Tammy, pulling her in for a hug.

After she steps back, her first reaction is to pinch my cheeks and thank me for coming. And the rest do the exact same thing, even Soo and Mark -probably because they didn't expect me to get out of my house and drive all the way here after what happened. 

I can feel Y/n's arms wrapping tight around me when it's her turn, while I hold her close by her shoulder. I'm unable to hide my smile when that fruity scent fills my nostrils for a few seconds. There it is. She hides her face deeper in the curve of my neck, allowing me to feel her cheeks curving with the smile she's trying to hide. 

After she steps back, Tae also joins us and hugs me. 

—You're finally back —he hugs me properly now—. This is asking for a round of shots to celebrate, doesn't it?

We all are grouped together for the first two rounds, but soon after we start separating into smaller groups. At some point, Mark heads to one of the tables with Tammy, to spend some time with some of his friends, Melanie, Soo and Y/n stay together in their table, while Tae and I head to the counter -he even jokes at how he's kept my spot completely clean and unused when we walk there.

Even if we are apart, and somehow engaged in different conversations, our eyes meet through the room. It's like living that first time all over again, both of us being unable to move our eyes away. And it doesn't seem like either of us want to. It's been too long to keep our eyes away from each other. Maybe we aren't being subtle at all, because Soo sends me a message on how she's about to throw up if we continue with the Twilight stare contest.

I lift my right arm, kissing a particular spot on my wrist and that I know she recognises by the way she smiles and shakes her head. 

Y/n walks in my direction, supporting her weight on the counter, before she asks for a refill. 

—Hey —I smile.

—Hey —she smiles back—. Do you come here often? —she jokes.

Probably it's the excitement of seeing her so close after so long, but I giggle at that lame joke, scrunching my nose and forcing myself to turn around and face in the same direction she is.

—Having fun? —I ask.

—Yeah —she nods, resting her hand on the counter—. And it'd be better if someone stopped staring at me.

—Says the person who's taking notes of my every move —I snap back, lifting my eyebrows. 

We look at each other for a few seconds, ending up smiling wide when we're aware of how close we are.

—I've missed you a lot —she says first.

—I missed you, too —I move my hand over the surface carefully, caressing her hand with my pinky—. You should feel lucky this is a secret, because the way I wanted to kiss you in front of everyone when I saw you... Babe, you would've been embarrassed.

—You speak too much —she leans to me, getting even closer—, but do too little.

—Cocktease, better find an excuse for us to leave, because you're coming home with me right now.

—Wait just a little bit more —she finally says.

That "a little bit more" lasts for almost one hour more, before Soo and Mark, and Melanie decide to leave after making sure where we all should be meeting tomorrow.

Y/n leaves the pub first, and later I find out Tammy will stay a bit longer because she found a poor victim to entertain herself with tonight. When I get out, I find her hugging her own body. 

—Do you need a ride?

Her giggles vibrate through my body as I hug her from behind and kiss her neck.

—I'll only accept it if you take me on a motorbike.

—It's the only transport I know.

Still holding her by her shoulders, I pull her closer to my body as we walk towards my already repaired motorbike. Y/n stops by a certain spot, tracing her finger over the little scratch she made the night we met and that's completely gone now.

—Should I kick it again?

—Don't even think about it —I warn her, hopping on the motorbike—. I'm already marked by you, you don't need to mark anything else.

I hand her one of the helmets that I left hanging on the handlebar, and I help her to place it properly and tie it up while she stands next to me. I playfully spank the side of her leg, motioning her to the empty spot behind me.

—You sure you can drive?

—Yup —I wink at her.

I don't drive her home though. At least not yet. Instead, I drive her to the studio, making sure she will receive the gift I bought for her almost a month ago, and that I've been keeping like it was the most expensive treasure.

—Do you have to pick something up here? —she looks at the studio.

—Something like it, yeah.

Holding her hand tight, I guide her steps towards the studio and close the door behind us once we're inside. While I walk to the room where I usually work to get the necklace, I hear her speak:

—You know, today you reminded me a lot of the day we met —she laughs—. I think you're wearing the exact same fit...

She stops smiling suddenly when she spots me getting out of the room, looking at her while I rest my body on the shoulder that's against the door frame.

—What?

—Nothing —I shake my hand.

I walk to her, trying to seem as calm as possible, although right now I'm way too nervous to say a single word without babbling. 

She looks completely gorgeous tonight.

—You look even more beautiful than the night we met —I rub my thumb on her chin.

—Does that mean I wasn't beautiful enough back then? —she teases me.

—Maybe —I joke.

She punches my stomach jokily, still giggling and laughing until I manage to link our lips together softly and gently, trying to taste every bit of this moment. I can feel her fingers pulling me in closer, digging her fingers in my hair.

—I love you —she whispers out of breath, breaking the kiss.

Did she actually say it or am I making this up right now?

—I don't think I've heard properly —I peck her lips

—I love you.

—Again? —I land a kiss on her cheek.

—I love you.

—Hmm... One more time? —she cackles with this one last question, humming after when I kiss her neck.

—I love you, Kook —she whispers, wrapping her arms around my shoulders—. I love you, I love you, I love you —I repeat.

—I love you, too —I say back, tucking one of her locks behind her ear—. You have no idea, baby —I kiss her again—. Also...

Trying to mock our first night, I hide the necklace in my closed fist when I move it behind her ear, only opening it to show off the necklace when I move it in front of her eyes. 

—I bought it the day before I had the accident, and I remembered I left it here the night I was planning to give it to you.

Smiling big, she takes the necklace by the silver chain, adoring the snake shape on her palm.

—You've always said you liked the snake tattoo —I mention, trying to fill in the silence—, and this necklace reminded me of you. This way, we both will have something that reminds us of the other.

She caresses the heart-shaped pendant with her thumb. And while I know she isn't the type to cry for the minimum thing, I can see her lower lip trembling and her eyes watering, although she's trying to hide it by looking down. 

—Do you want to cry?

She nods at the question, sobbing in a matter of a second. I pull her closer to my body again, feeling her cry on my chest while I wrap my arms around her, making sure I spread kisses all over her exposed shoulder.

—Hope you're crying because you're happy, and not because it's ugly and you don't know how to tell me.

I try to joke around to make her feel better about this. And I get it. Y/n laughs while tearing up, holding onto me.

—I'm ruining your shirt —she giggles, stepping back to check on the fabric.

As if I care about my clothes being stained with makeup right now. 

I lower my face to the spot she's looking at, seeing the stain she's probably worried about. Shrugging it off, I rub the reverse of my hand on it and proceed to ignore it when I realize it won't be gone that easily. She suddenly laughs at my reaction, and only then I think it's safe to take the necklace away from her.

Y/n instantly understands what I want to do, because she lifts her hair, helping me to hook the necklace around her neck -even if it takes me a bit more than expected to close it.

She cups my face with her hands, leaning to me to lock her lips with mine. That kiss escalates quickly. It goes from soft and pure, to a passionate one full of lip locking and sucking -the sounds coming from it just warning us where this will lead to. But I don't want to do any of that here. And even less now.

—Not here —I place my hands back on her waist. 

—Why? —she pinches my sides playfully, knowing that's get me to squirm and smile.

—This isn't a good place —I manage to say—. You're too special to do it here.

I would bring girls here constantly because I didn't want them in my place, or because I wanted to win them over before they took me to their places. Y/n is the girl I want to make love to, care about her through every single movement and breath. She's the girl I want to sleep with and wake up next to to start the day properly.

She deserves better than a quick fuck in my former bachelor pad.

✸ ✸ ✸

All those sweet and cute kisses and giggles quickly turn into filthy sounds as soon as we get to my house, unable to keep our hands to ourselves the moment we cross the door.

She whines with every thrust, holding onto the sheets while I keep pounding into her while grabbing on her hips tight.

My hands slip over her body, squeezing her tits as I try to lift her torso. Reading my intentions fast, she pushes her body up, until her back is against my chest. My thrusts go back to a slower pace when we're in that position, and I'm able to spread kisses all over her shoulder and neck.

—Stop forcing your arm —she asks between gasps, although it sounds more like a scold.

—Babe, I can't help it —I try to thrust in deeper with every move I make—. I want to have you in every position, take you from every angle —I kiss her jaw.

It's been way too long to hold back. I don't even care about the slight pain in my arm. I need her right here and now.

—You didn't think about that? —I manage to ask.

—Yeah —she moans when two of my fingers pinch her nipple gently—. Every day. I missed you so much.

—That's why you're giving me a third one? Hmm? —I buck my hips, moving a bit faster.

Her head falls over my shoulder, while I hold her close to keep her in that position. I recognise her expression when she puckers her lips and squeezes her eyes shut.

—Look at me —I ask her—. Keep your eyes on me when you cum.

She opens her eyes almost instantly, giving me a pleading look when two of my fingers move through her soaked slit, focusing on her swollen clit while my cock pounds into her. Moving my fingers in circles, I drive her closer to the edge. 

She cries my name, and holds onto me as if her life depended on it -nails digging on my skin tight, while her other fingers grasp the back of my head. I can tell she's fighting to keep her eyes open, but they just end up closing at the same time her head falls back over my shoulder. 

A few more thrusts and I feel my release filling the latex, before I go completely still inside of her. My head falls on hers, while my hands just caress her body carefully.

Turning our bodies, I let us fall back on the mattress. She rolls over her body though, still in between my arms, to  allow me to meet her sparkly eyes and wide smile. She moves my wet locks away from my eyes, caressing down my forehead and cheek, letting her palm rest there -something that gives me an inner peace that nothing else has ever given me before.

We stay in silence for a few minutes, just looking into each other's eyes, as if that was enough to communicate -and at this point I'm convinced it is.

—I need to ask you something —I mutter in a low tone.

—Sure.

I have the question clear in my head. There's no way I'm going to mess it up.

—Do you... When you... Wait —I sigh, looking away from her as I try to find the right words to use—. Remember when you asked me what we are? —she nods— What do you want us to be?

Her gaze slowly moves away, falling over my chest and a particular spot in my room, and silence suddenly surrounds us. 

—Umm... a couple —she whispers, still looking away—. I mean, I know we kinda are one now, and it won't make much difference. But when I talk about you, I want to be able to say that you're my boyfriend —she explains, moving her gaze back to my eyes.

If she weren't here right now, I probably would be jumping off the bed right now.

—That's exactly what I want —I cut her off—. So from now on we are...

—Dating —she finishes for me, almost singing the word.

I nod, chuckling after how cute she looked and dragging her closer to me, leaving ho gaps between our bodies.

[inkribbon796]

Egotober 2023 Day 5: Roses are Red, Violets are Blue

Summary: . . . Florida Teen Arrested for Putting Humans in Jars at Florida Zoo

Prompt: Jar

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31

Bing liked humans, they were fun. Some were less fun than others, but on average he liked them.

And in Gainesville he saw all kinds of interesting and fun people. He liked going to school fairs and the schools definitely liked having an actual sentient AI talking to their budding STEM students. He had the names of hundreds and even thousands of budding scientists.

His names.

Bing wanted to see what they would become, what they would do.

One of his names however was causing problems in the city. And Bing only knew that cause this human child, a teenager really, was using something he had given to every name he kept tabs on. A little pin with a minute amount of dead nanites. Unusable, but noticeable.

A little budding eco-terrorist, and a dangerous one. Most of the time, his names resorted to firecrackers or at the most dangerous a pipe bomb.

This one was more dangerous, this one was causing civic engineering damage. They were smart, not just in what they were doing, but in being smart enough not to get caught.

And Google was starting to get interested. He refused to tell Bing why he was so intent on finding this person.

Fourteen hours after he’d called the Egoton branch for help, he got a call.

“Bing, what’s up?” Silver called.

“Finally,” Bing said. “Finished putting out fires?”

There was silence for a bit. “No. We’re fighting Irish and American immigration to get Marvin over here. Fuck Dark, and fuck no one here being able to read aura. What’s the problem? An eco-terrorist?”

“Yeah, one of Gainesville’s brightest is turning to crime to push back against a couple things in the city. And they’re smart enough not to get caught. We’ve been trying to catch this kid for four months.”

“How old is this person supposed to be?” Silver asked.

“Seventeen,” Bing said. “We think. They’re at least in high school.”

“Too young,” Silver said. “Between them and the guy that keeps trying to solve crime over here we might be dealing with a miniature league.”

“Don’t have to, dude,” Bing said.

“What does that mean?” Silver's tone sounded dangerous.

“Google’s interested in them, not Dark, Googs is hella interested.” Bing’s mind was already made up.

“We can’t have children fighting super villains, they’ll die. I’d rather fight against them than have them up against Dark. I lost Iblis, I will not lose anyone else.”

“Iblis wasn’t killed by a villain,” Bing said.

“I’m not arguing this with you. Dark travels down there to talk with some snake kingpin almost monthly. And he can be down there in minutes. I take either nine or three hours depending on where the fuck Egoton is because I sure don’t know where I am right now.”

“I can’t let Google have this kid, I can’t,” Bing said and hung up. Silver tried to call him back but Bing didn’t pick up.

Bing kept ignoring him as he broke apart into nanites and jumped from electrical outlet to outlet until he got to the nearby zoo where the latest situation was.

The eco-terrorist was in the zoo, terrorizing some of the patrons in, what felt like to Bing, the funniest way possible. Three patrons trapped under what looked like giant glass jars, ranting at them.

It was as adorable as it was dangerous. A seventeen-year-old in blue and black biker gear. It was almost enough to make Bing forget about how much damage they’d done.

“How do you like it when something throws things at you?” The teenage future-supervillain told a woman whose jar he was standing on top of. They sounded male-leaning but Bing had been corrected enough times.

“Well,” Bing said as he leaned against one of the jars where a young man was inside of it. Smiling. “Should I make the joke, dude? Or are you going to traumatize these people in a whole new way?”

The teenager almost startled and climbed off it before they could fall off of it. “Bing. You’re early.”

And they landed directly into Bing’s nanites. Nanites surged around them to bind the teen where they stood. Making it look like the top half of a jar.

“Nah, I was going to get you eventually, kid.” Bing said as he took the time to free the civilians and send them off.

Only one of the trapped people tried to beat up the tied and bound teenager.

Bing easily snagged him by the arm and threw him back. “Nah, big guy. You don’t need to pretend to be a man by beating up a tied up teenager.”

And for good measure, Bing audibly and visibly took a picture of his face. That got the guy to run off.

Leaving Bing with the “junior supervillain” on the mostly empty path. “Hey there.”

“I have a right to remain silent and I have a right to a lawyer.” The young villain said.

Bing used his nanites to unclip the kid’s motorcycle helmet. “You sure do.”

“Hey!” The teen said, trying to twist away. But the helmet came off and there was a perfectly normal teenage face.

Bing didn’t even need to start scanning his face. The android knew exactly who this was.

Logan E. Naraj. Honors high school student, and valedictorian at Buchholz High School. He/Him. The most promising of Bing’s names. Perhaps the single smartest student in the entire area, let alone in Gainesville. Maybe in the entire state, even. Not just in grades, Logan was devastatingly intelligent, and his eco-terrorist actions were proving it.

“I knew it had to be you,” Bing said. “You’re one of the only people smart enough to be doing half the stuff you’ve been doing.”

That seemed to disarm Logan a little bit, clearly not expecting a compliment. But he didn’t say anything in kind.

Bing stuck the helmet to Logan’s chest with nanites. Then Bing started taking Logan out of the zoo.

Police met with Bing about halfway towards the entrance. He was placed under arrest, and placed in the back of a cop car. Where Bing followed them closely to the station.

They got Logan into a little holding room, Bing not letting the kid out of his sight. It was only a matter of time before Google tried to sweep in. Bing couldn’t even guess what Google wanted with an actual human, but Logan had yet to actually kill anybody. If Google got involved he would quickly start.

They were waiting for a state lawyer and CPS to come in for Logan. So all they could do, since Logan refused to cooperate, was wait.

One of the investigators came over to Bing.

“Your friend come for him yet?” The officer said.

“No, but that’s probably because the dude knows I’m here,” Bing shrugged.

“Do you know what he wants yet?” The officer was shifting around but Bing didn’t pull up a camera to see it. He just shook his head and they were quiet for a good minute.

Then the officer clearly felt like silence was a bad idea.

“Logan Naraj, glad to finally have a name for what might be a two-year stint in juvie,” the officer said as Logan sat on the couch, Bing refusing to take his eye off him. So the second camera had to come up.

“And not the first Naraj we’ve had in the system, probably won’t be the last time either.” The office was giving Logan a scoffing, dismissive look.

“Why?” Bing asked.

“His older brother is currently serving a five year sentence at Florida Corrections, assault with a deadly weapon. He was sentenced last year. No parents, no surprise really.”

“Hmm, don’t think you should be making comments like that about a kid smart enough to make death rays.” Bing’s synthetic heart gave out a little bit.

The officer didn’t seem convinced but Bing didn’t care, he only had to convince Silver. And Bing was trying to cover every argument Silver had. He needed to keep this kid out of trouble, eternally bench him, and keep him in school.

He was already sending out a couple of emails as he’d been taking Logan to the station. And as he was looking at Logan and hearing this human bad talk him, he got a response from the only person besides Silver that he needed permission from.

“He’s going to be my apprentice,” Bing said.

“Why?” The investigator said.

“Look, either I take him for the Coalition, and he does community service for us, or Google takes him and he builds weapons for Dark and the League. Choose.”

“You said that just Google was interested in him,” the officer said.

“Yeah, and Google works for Dark, if Googs has anything, Dark has it,” Bing said. “And I don’t know if you know what happens in Egoton but Wilford doesn’t stay in jail, now does he?”

Bing waited to go in when the CPS rep and the lawyer had finally gotten in. He let them go in and talk to Logan before Bing walked in without the cops.

He grabbed a chair and turned it so he could lean his arms on the top of the backrest.

“Hey,” Bing smiled. Before the lawyer could make a noise, Bing kept talking. “You don’t have to say a word. You’re probably going back home after this. I just wanted to cut to the point where we make a deal, not waste your time.”

“He doesn’t have to take any kind of deal,” the lawyer said.

“Oh, I know,” Bing said, still smiling. “In fact, I hope he sleeps on it. Decisions need time to make them wisely, and I know Logan here is a smart kid.”

The lawyer glanced at Logan, and Bing let them remind Logan not to say a thing.

Bing pulled out a little card with the Coalition insignia on it and Bing’s contact information. “I want you to personally become my apprentice with the Coalition.”

“You can’t be serious,” The CPS rep said.

“Oh, buddy, I’m very serious,” Bing said. He looked at Logan. “I know Googs has been contacting you, and I know because he was gloating about it. And I don’t want Google anywhere near you, dude. I don’t want Dark near you because anything Google has, belongs to Dark. Dark doesn’t care about anything but himself, that’s just a fact.”

Logan didn’t say anything, but his standoffishness didn’t seem as cold. Which was good.

“So we’re gonna take you home, you’re gonna think on this, and then if you want you call me. And we can start some balls rolling. Get you some more equipment. Have you not go to jail for almost destroying the bridge? Think of it as cutting around juvie and skipping right to community service?”

Logan stayed quiet but Bing could see the gears turning.

Bing smiled and walked out, leaving Logan with the humans, and a smile on Bing’s face.

The police were pissed, no surprise. They’d caught Logan but were unable to arrest him on the spot.

Bing watched CPS take Logan home, where he basically was by himself, and was given instructions not to contact Bing or Google.

The kid didn’t last the night.

Bing stood on his apartment step, to be polite, and waited as Logan answered the door.

“I’m not saying yes,” Logan said as Bing walked in.

“Well, this sure ain’t a no, dude,” Bing smiled as he looked around and basically placed a tracking marker in the place so he could quickly come and go from the place.

“Hey, you like Wendy’s, kid?” Bing said.

The kid just glared at him. “I’m vegetarian.”

“Neat, cool,” Bing smiled at him. “I’ll order something else.”

“You don’t eat human food,” Logan said.

“I mean, I can, but we’ll be talking about this for a while and you’ve been out all night,” Bing said as he sat backwards on a rickety kitchen chair. Leaving the slightly comfier armchair for Logan.

“I’m just allowed to join the Coalition?” Logan asked.

Bing gave Logan a huge smile. “I’m in charge of the South Branch of the Coalition, only Silver and Jackie have any extra say on stuff. I got Jackie’s approval a couple hours ago, and I can convince Silver. Don’t worry. The only thing you’ve got to worry about, little man, is staying in school, and staying out of trouble.”

“You’ve promised change,” Logan said.

“There are a lot of things wrong in this city, and with the country, Lo, you’re taking on the small fry. Normal people. I want bigger, dude. I want to take on people like Dark, people who are stagnating the city.” Bing said as he tried not to lean forward in the chair and break it.

“If I joined, what would I be doing day-to-day?” Logan asked.

“Investigative work, maybe researching various magical and no-magical artifacts, you’ll be in school a lot of the time, there’s no getting around that.” Bing said.

“Okay, if it’s between you and Dark, I guess I don’t have a choice,” Logan said.

Bing stood up and clapped his hands. “Alrighty, then, dude.”

Out of his arm he pulled out something that looked more like a watch then the rest of the Coalition communicators. “To our newest hero. Welcome to the party, my man.”

“Logic,” Logan said.

“That your name?” Bing asked.

“Yes, if I could pick one it would be: Logic,” Logan said.

“Perfect, my dude,” Bing said.

“Where do you stay, or are you allowed to tell me?” Logan asked.

“Hey, I live anywhere with good bandwidth,” Bing said, shrugging. “You need me anywhere, anytime, and I got you.”

“Noted,” Logan said, trying to act normal but Bing wasn’t fooled. Those facial expressions, that heart rate. He cared a lot, that made Bing very happy.

Bing held out his hand. “I can order that food, and then you can get some sleep. You’ve got school tomorrow, after all and we’ll keep talking about Coalition stuff after school.”

“Alright,” Logan said.

So Bing ordered some late night vegetarian Chinese food. Logan ate and then he went to bed, and Bing went to go and officially tell Google to back off from Logan. That he had it under control and Logan got to be theirs without also being Dark’s.

[iknowwhereyousleepatnight]

tag game: 9 people you'd like to get to know better

ty @lawtism for tagging me!!!!!!!

Last Song: the replaceable machines by sin shake sin

2. Currently Watching: uhhhhhh. hmmmmm i don’t really watch things other than video essays (which i haven’t started a new one after hbomberguy’s last one) and like. video game playthroughs to fall asleep to, in which case it is the 30th time i’m watching rtgame’s bugsnax playthrough

3. Three Ships: lawlight / mikalight / remisa

4. Favorite Color: bright reddish pink or radioactive green or dark slate or maroon or cherry red or soft warm purple or… i’m going to go on forever. every color except one specific shade of blue that i hate

5. Currently Consuming: water mmmmmmmm ice cold water my throat is sore i cannot stop drinking it or i will die (<-apparently lost my voice and didn’t realize until i got home and had to talk to people and couldn’t. at all really. i can wheeze tho)

6. First Ship: hmmmmmmm ships ships ships. y’know i never really shipped anyone for a long time. maybe wesper from six of crows? (book not whatever the show is i’ve been avoiding it. i fear it. you cannot just fuck with the timeline you can never come back from that shit) i can’t remember which i read/watched first so it actually might’ve been klance lmao. wait. wait no it was totally roy mustang and riza hawkeye from fma there i figured it out applaud me

7. Relationship Status: single ;)

8. Last Movie: i genuinely think it was 12 angry men that i watched a couple months ago for class <-does not really watch movies either. i liked it though!! very cool :)

9. Currently working on: my lovely beautiful analysis of the eroticism and themes of bondage and submission in michelangelo’s unfinished/unused works for pope julius ii’s tomb <3 and other than that i’m working on my cat dn designs that no-one can care for as much as me. they’re on my mind all the time. my hands sketch them in my notebooks when i’m trying to take notes. i see them in my sleep.

trying to tag those who haven’t been tagged yet :3 @demon-sterrr @aiishaosaki @3gglady @italictext @sillypilled-friendcel @paradisepoisoned @lovely-yagami @god-of-this-new-blog @nebulamist no pressure though!!

[waltwhitmansbeard]

my fair lady: drabble #12

ok so this takes place actually between chapters 28 and 29 but i wanted y'all to read 29 before this. i'm trying to fix some of what i think i broke early in mfl. as always, read these first and check out @romeoandjulietyouwish's medieval au!

When Keyleth has disappeared from view, Korrin throws himself into the Seat of the Ashari, running a tired hand over his face. This has been, without a doubt, one of the longest days of his life, and the day is not yet over. He had been woken in the dead of night by the castle's warning bells, only to be told that his daughter, his light, his life, had been attacked and was nowhere to be found. He nearly tore every hair from his head in worry until Captain Vex'ahlia informed him of Keyleth's successful escape from danger. He thought nothing could shake him to his core more than the sight of her unconscious body being carried in by Grog, more than the shallow in and out of her breath, so weak, so tenuous—until she, as is her wont, defied all of his expectations, charging before him to announce that she, of all things, married a guard.

In his head, he can only hear his daughter's voice echoing in his mind: I asked him to marry me! How could this be possible? How could his little girl, who just yesterday was toddling around the throne room and proudly showing off her latest favorite leaf, be old enough to be a married woman? Where have these years gone? When did she stop being the precocious child who tugged at his knee for another story before bed? Did he blink? Was he so consumed with the fate of his nation that he took his eyes off of her, looked away just long enough for her to become this person, tall and strong and beautiful and independent?

He hears shuffling from the entrance to the throne room, and he looks up to see his advisors hovering awkwardly. "Your Majesty?" Lord Zorian asks, hesitant.

Korrin knows that his priorities have not changed, not in the short term. Gaben Finefirn still assaulted his daughter last night, and he is still on the lam today. Locating that cockroach of a mage and stringing him up in the middle of Zephrah is the only thing that matters.

And yet. He cannot focus, cannot think of anything but this blow Keyleth has delivered to him. He needs to talk to someone, needs to determine what he thinks, what he wants to do next—oh. He knows where he needs to go.

He shoves himself from the throne, and as he marches toward his advisors, he barks out, "Continue the search for Finefirn. Ensure that Lady Allura is working on the arcane wards, and consult with Captain Vex'ahlia on the tracking efforts." Without breaking his stride, he leaves the throne room and his baffled advisors behind.

Grog, from his usual post just outside the room, looks bewildered by Korrin's sudden appearance. "Your Majesty?"

Korrin doesn't stop. "I need to go somewhere. Stay here, Grog."

Behind him, he can hear Grog grumble in confusion. He walks quickly through the castle, and each guard who, concerned to see him unaccompanied, attempts to stop him gets waved away wordlessly. Where Korrin is going, he does not need guards.

He pushes out of the castle and onto the south lawns. As he crosses them, he is aware that there are dozens of eyes on him, guards within and without that track his every move and scan the grounds for any threat that might be coming his way, but Korrin is hardly unused to being watched. He has had eyes on him since birth, a sovereign in the making, though he, like his daughter, feels comfortable only in the rare moments when he is truly, mercifully alone.

Vilya was different. Vilya loved to be the center of attention, bubbled up like spring water whenever she was surrounded by her various hangers-on at court. It was one of the first things he'd noticed about her; she was so entranced by each and every person she spoke to, regardless of their station or connection, and when he watched her from afar, she always seemed to be having the most important conversation of her life. She delighted in making others laugh, in making them feel as though they were the most intriguing person she'd ever met. She was far more suited to life at court than he'd ever been.

He approaches her tree for the first time in far too long. It is twilight, and the dusty low light casts ominous shadows through the branches of the cherry tree, which he swears judges him for his absence. He begins to pace back and forth in front of the tree, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Did you know?" he accused the wind. "Did you know that she had done this?" The wind hums low, soft. "Of course you did. You always knew what was going on. Everyone told you everything, my love, because you were so easy to talk to." He sighs. "I am sure you knew of this...relationship from the beginning.

"Gods, you must think I am a fool. Nearly a year they've been carrying on and I haven't noticed a thing! You must have been laughing at my ignorance this whole time." He paces a bit more, letting the wind whistle accusatorially through the trees. "You know how ridiculous this is, Vilya. A guard! A spy! A man who made a name for himself slinking through the shadows and cutting down our nation's enemies! I value his hard work, of course I do, but his remuneration is his pay, not our daughter's hand in marriage!"

The tree creaks, and Korrin narrows his eyes up at the branches. "And I am not a hypocrite. My father's objection to your becoming my wife was specious and petty. He believed your family too lowborn, too unconnected to be of value to my political endeavors—which was of course ridiculous for any number of reasons. But I daresay that if you had been, oh, I don't know, a scullery maid down in the kitchens, I would have understood his disapprobation!"

He pauses his pacing, stretches a hand out to rest against the bark of the cherry tree. "Of course, my father's approval mattered little in the end. Some nights I still dream of the day I fell in love with you, Vil. Do you remember? The Renewal Festival when you wore that green frock and led the Zephran children through that dance in the town square? You could have been a scullery maid, and it would not have stopped my heart from being yours."

A single cherry blossom, white and delicate, floats down to land on his shoulder. Korrin picks it up and examines it, his heart suddenly stuck in his throat. "What would you have told her, had she come to you first? Would you have urged her to marry in secret, to tell me of the deed after the fact, to avoid my attempts at stopping it? Would you have put her personal happiness over what is best for our nation?"

He says those words aloud, and realization crashes over him. "Oh, of course. Her extreme reaction to the original peace treaty. She was already in love with him then! Oh, Vilya...I have rather made a mess of things, haven't I?" He leans back against the trunk, lets his head rest on the bark. "I lost so much when illness took you from me, but your wisdom is the thing I miss the most. You saw everything, the threads that connected each and every one of us, saw the tapestry that life made of them. My nose has always been in books and correspondences; I could never see what was right in front of me. And I missed our little girl becoming someone who didn't need her father's guiding hand anymore."

He knows what he has to do, what he already promised Keyleth he would do, without necessarily knowing whether he would keep said promise. He looks up toward the branches once more. "Just tell me this, Vilya: is he good for her?"

There's a stillness to the air, a quiet that, for a moment, worries him. Then, without warning, dozens, hundreds of cherry blossoms rain down, showering him in a blizzard of white. He chuckles low. "Alright, alright. I get it. You don't need to mock me." He pats the tree before pushing off with a sigh. "Alright, I shall let the boy go. Good night, my love." He strides back toward the castle, lighter in his step and in his heart than he was before.

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Eye of the World! Chapter 12: Across the Taren

Another day, another chapter of The Wheel of Time. As usual, my reread commentary will be chock full of spoilers, much like a turducken is full of desecrated poultry. Those of you who respect livestock or fear having your first reading (or viewing) experience ruined should go elsewhere, possibly a hippie commune without meat eating or internet.

If anyone is still left (and shame on you for hating birds, btw), we can begin by discussing the chapter icon. This chapter introduces a new one, the yin - except it looks like yang but mirrored - to the Dragon's Fang yang (except it looks like yin but mirrored). Don't know if Jordan intended for each of them to be a little of both or if like every other westerner he just couldn't keep it straight. Anyway, it's the Flame of Tar Valon! Where the Fang stands for male channeling and channelers, the Flame stands for the ladies. In this case, it's a representation of Moiraine's cold pragmatism.

Rand moved stiffly from the ache of the long ride, wondering if there was any way he could walk the rest of the way to Tar Valon.

Rand will eventually walk to Tar Valon, but he'll start a lot closer.

“You must handle it,” Moiraine said in answer to something unheard from Lan. “He will remember too much as it is, and no help for it. If I stand out in his thoughts. . . .”

Odd choice of words there. Were Myrdraal supposed to be mind readers on top of everything else?

Egwene marched along without a word, her back straight and her head high. It was a somewhat painfully hesitant march, to be sure, for she was as unused to riding as the rest. She was getting her adventure, he thought glumly, and as long as it lasted he doubted if she would notice little things like fog or damp or cold.

Rand, I'm pretty sure Egwene is deliberately stiff because she's noticing the inclement weather and she's trying to power through it.

Rand hurriedly copied the Warder’s pose—at least insofar as putting his hand on his sword. He did not think he could achieve that deadly-seeming slouch. They’d probably laugh if I tried.

Not yet Rand, but you'll get there. And note that Lan trusted you to understand what to do if he fiddled with Perrin's stance, but not the other way around. After the hay loft incident, Rand's definitely the one Lan likes the most.

A low, delighted laugh floated from Moiraine. Egwene clapped as if watching a performance at Festival, then stopped and looked abashed, though her mouth twitched with a smile just the same.

Good to know that Egwene is just as stupid as the boys at heart. Shame they didn't give her literally any kind of weapon to join in the showing off how tough they were. Lan, Thom, we all know you have back-up knives, so I am blaming Jordan's sexism for this. Girl needs something in case she gets taken out by Shadowspawn.

Hightower muttered half under his breath, growling for them to keep the horses still and stay to the center, out of the haulers’ way. He shouted at his helpers, chivvying them as they readied the ferry to cross, but the men moved at the same reluctant speed whatever he said, and he was halfhearted about it, often cutting off in mid-shout to hold his torch high and peer into the fog. Finally he stopped shouting altogether and went to the bow, where he stood staring into the mist that covered the river. He did not move until one of the haulers touched his arm; then he jumped, glaring.

There's something delightfully like a horror movie about all of this, as if the draghkar might descend upon them at any moment and they all know that something's out there, even if the Ferry folk don't know what.

With the fog to hide them . . . well, when what they do is hidden, men sometimes deal with strangers in ways they wouldn’t if there were other eyes to see. And the quickest to harm a stranger are the soonest to think a stranger will harm them.

Lan, you're the one who was worried about being robbed so you had everyone show off their mad skills. You also jump from "This dude would sell his mom to Trollocs", to "Can you really see this guy ferrying the Trollocs over for gold?" It's... really the kind of thing that doesn't stand out right now, but keeps you and Moiraine sketchier a lot longer than you should be.

The ferryman hesitated, face pushed forward as if he smelled danger, but at the mention of silver the haulers roused themselves. Some paused to seize a torch, but they all thumped down the ramp before Hightower could open his mouth. With a sullen grimace, the ferryman followed his crew.

Poor Hightower is just clever enough to understand what's up but not capable enough to avert his fate. Moiraine wrecks his shit.

For a moment Hightower stared at the gold, glinting in Lan’s hand in the torchlight, then his shoulders hunched and his eyes darted to the others he had carried across. Made indistinct by the fog, the Emond’s Fielders stood silently. With a frightened, inarticulate cry, the ferryman snatched the coins from Lan, whirled, and ran into the mist. His haulers were only half a step behind him, their torches quickly swallowed as they vanished upriver.

Frankly if it weren't for a mention in a later chapter, I'd assume they were all eaten by Trollocs as soon as the gang was away. The haulers may well have been.

“You all want explanations, but if I explained my every action to you, I would have no time for anything else.”

No Moiraine, if you people talked to each other, you'd have the Dark One sealed up again in seven books instead of fourteen! That said, Jordan uses a good trick in this section: by highlighting one apparent oddity in Moiraine's plan and explaining it, the reader assumes that anything else they might think of might also have a good explanation, especially since most won't know all the rules of the setting yet. Further, it's not hard to infer that Moiraine is making sure that any river crossing done by the Shadow is done slowly - and if you don't infer that, you continue to have reservations about her like the characters are about to.

“You expected us to stop here?” Egwene said in surprise. “It seemed a likely place,” Lan replied. “I like to be prepared, just in case.”

On the way to Emond's Field from Baerlon, Lan set up sixty-two possible nap spots. Only one was discovered, and since it was by a rabbit, the mission remained uncompromised.

“Oh, they can still run. They will run at their fastest, if we let them, right up to the second they drop dead from exhaustion they never even felt. I would rather Moiraine Sedai had not had to do what she did, but it was necessary.”

Good magic has trade-offs, and here's the weave that Moiraine was using's flaw: it affects the horse's awareness but does jack shit about their actual condition. And even that leaves her personally exhausted when she's bragging about how she's literally in the Tower's top ten power users. Since Rand isn't too weary, just stiff, it makes me think he didn't do quite the same thing as her.

“And you really think I can learn?” Egwene asked. Her face shone with eagerness. Rand had never seen her look so beautiful, or so far away from him. “I can become an Aes Sedai?” Rand jumped up, cracking his head against the low roof of logs. Thom Merrilin grabbed his arm, yanking him back down. “Don’t be a fool,” the gleeman murmured. He eyed the women—neither seemed to have noticed—and the look he gave Rand was sympathetic. “It’s beyond you now, boy.”

Unspoken: "Be grateful it's a woman she's found who can channel, and not a man."

I wonder if Thom thinks that the reason Bela isn't tired is because Egwene was channeling. Moiraine wouldn't think this because she would have sensed it, but Thom's got every reason to make that assumption right now - including denial about Rand when he must have ideas about why the Shadowspawn are here.

Men like those of whom the Aes Sedai spoke were rare—he had only heard of three in his whole life, and thank the Light never in the Two Rivers—but the damage they did before the Aes Sedai found them was always bad enough for the news to carry, like the news of wars, or earthquakes that destroyed cities.

I saw recently some Tumblr users questioning this because the Two Rivers is so strong in the power it should be producing male sparkers. Later on Rand or another EF5 POV will reflect on how there were a few dudes who just went weird, so it seems that in the Two Rivers they either get the taint so quick they don't have a chance to be harmful, or they start channeling but can't get the knack and die.

The old blood is strong in Emond’s Field, and the old blood sings.

You all are super heavily inbred. That's literally the only way this makes sense in Jordan's world because there's absolutely no reason for bloodlines to special otherwise.

“Of course not,” Moiraine snapped. “Things do not have the Power, child. Even an angreal is only a tool. This is just a pretty blue stone. But it can give off light. Here.”

There's plenty of ter'angreal that manipulate the Power, so Moiraine's being pretty snippy here. I'll assume she's too tired to consider the bigger picture beyond her lesson; she can't do the usual "lies we tell to elementary schoolers to be replaced by lies we tell to high schoolers" etc. gig because she can't lie.

“Now you are behaving like a foolish village girl. Most who come to Tar Valon must study for many months before they can do what you just did. You may go far. Perhaps even the Amyrlin Seat, one day, if you study hard and work hard.”

F- f- foreshadowing! Everyone's got some now! In exactly twenty months, Egwene will be raised to the Amyrlin Seat. Hopefully it won't take me quite so long to get there even at this rate, and more hopefully Rand stops rooting for his friends to fail because he is not happy about this at all. But we can deal with his unhappiness next time, because this is another chapter finished.

[glitternightingale]

Weird Questions for Writers (because writers are weird)

Taken from this list

As I said, this is just me comprising the asks so that I remember which ones I've already answered!

Now, onto the mess that is my writing routine:

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

2. If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil?

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

My writing ritual is to obsess over an idea for weeks, thinking I haven't thought it out well enough, and when I do want to write the fic/next chapter I avoid it for the majority of the day. It gets late and I get tired but feel like I haven't been productive. That's when the first word garble appears!

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

"Apprehensive"

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

Hmm, my superstition is (not only when it comes to writing but just about anything I create) that when I'm proud of something I've made it's probably mediocre for everyone else. Surprisingly, my "best" is usually my "Meh...", so I try to avoid feeling overly confident! (But it also helps to sketch everyone's favorite prophet before I start a new project--)

6. What is your darkest fear about writing?

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

I would choose to write a story without dialogue. Because, and here it becomes sneaky, I could say just as much through interior monologue or describing the characters' facial expressions and body language. (Or even write 10k of exposition)

9. Do you believe in ghosts? This isn’t about writing I just wanna know

No, I do not. My opinion changes, however, when it gets dark and something's lurking behind the door, ready to fry me with lasers.

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

WIPs haunt me. They're like incomplete circles and I can't start something new without them being finished. (That's why I don't like writing multi-chapter fics. The needed commitment is just super big.)

11. Do you believe in the old advice to “kill your darlings?” Are you a ruthless darling assassin? What happens to the darlings you murder? Do you have a darling graveyard? Do you grieve?

12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules

Wish 1: AO3 doesn't destroy my format when I import text from Google Docs.

Wish 2: Writing comments on other people's works comes more easily to me.

Wish 3: Just... everything I write is enjoyable(?)

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you to write about? What is easy?

14. Do you lend your books to people? Are people scared to borrow books from you? Do you know exactly where all your “lost” books are and which specific friend from school you haven’t seen in twelve years still possesses them? Will you ever get them back?

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends?

*cringes at the thought* Nope, I like my books clean and basically unused (so that I can make some profit if I decide to sell them later). It's a different topic if the text is digital, though. The pens that come with most tablets hafta be used!

16. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?

I've made this Harry Potter wand out of wood, hot glue, and sparkly stones once. It served its purpose to weigh down the book pages but then it slid off and broke. Oh, well.

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

"Ah-ha! Here it is!" he exclaimed, holding the mysterious object aloft between his bony fingers. 

The young girl squinted at the colorfully-striped cone, only realizing it was a party hat when Tío Bruno managed to attach it to the donkey's forehead. 

She squealed in amazement as she saw the picture-perfect mythical animal blinking at her in all its radiant glory. However, this did not erase all the dreadful thoughts she had."

Right, so, I do watch Encanto quite often and there are always new things to discover. Then, while I was standing in front of the mirror, trying to make my eyebrows look symmetrical, I connected the party hats Osvaldo gave to Mirabel (in the "Not-Special Special" Basket) with the scene where Luisa's jumping over pink clouds with her unicorn donkeys. Party hats look like cones and cones look like unicorn horns-- Dumb, I know. But know who else would have these dumb ideas? Bruno.

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

20. If a witch offered you the choice between eternal happiness with your one true love and the ability to finally finish, perfect, and publish your dearest, darlingest, most precious WIP in exactly the way you’ve always imagined it — which would you choose? You can’t have both sorry, life’s a bitch

21. Could you ever quit writing? Do you ever wish you could? Why or why not?

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story?

26. How do you get into your character’s head? How do you get out? Do you ever regret going in there in the first place?

27. Who is the most stressful character you’ve ever written? Why?

Aside from the fact that writing anyone ever is pretty stressful, I'd say it's Félix (Encanto). I couldn't pin down his personality at first without it seeming ooc and picturing his role in the Madrigals' dynamics.

28. Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why?

29. Where do you draw your inspiration? What do you do when the inspiration well runs dry?

30. Talk to me about the role dreams play in your writing life. Have you ever used material from your dreams in your writing? Have you ever written in a dream? Did you remember it when you woke up?

31. Write a short love letter to your readers.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

33. Do you practice any other art besides writing? Does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate?

34. Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

36. They say to Write What You Know. Setting aside for a moment the fact that this is terrible advice…what do you Know?

37. If you were to be remembered only by the words you’ve put on the page, what would future historians think of you?

38. What is something about your writing process YOU think is Really Weird? If you are comfortable, please share. If you’re not comfortable, what do you think cats say about us?

39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up?

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.

(Don't judge me for this one lmao.)

The glass is dark, your reflection green

What do you feel when you fall on your spleen?

Is it pain? Is it greed?

Or are you-- freed?

[hyperthinks]

15 questions for 15 mutuals ^_^ i was tagged by @socialbunny!

1. are you named after anyone?

nope to both my birth name and chosen name! my motivation behind picking the name miles was that it 1. had the same first initial as my birth name and 2. PEOPLE COULD ACTUALLY SPELL IT LMAOOO

2. when was the last time you cried?

i graduated college last weekend and i dont know if id consider it a Full Cry because all i did was tear up but when i gave my favorite professor a hug after i went onstage i was screaming and crying and throwing up on the inside

3. do you have kids?

nope!

4. do you use sarcasm a lot?

yeah but in a lighthearted way! im a goofy guy but i dont ever want my jokes to come off as too mean spirited

5. what sports do you play/have you played?

HELP im so shit at sports 😭 my hand eye coordination and depth perception are both awful so im not good at any of them… when i was in the 3rd grade my mom put me in cheerleading and i had such bad social anxiety as a kid that when it was my turn to cheer i would just CRY. it makes for a funny story though

6. what’s the first thing you notice about other people?

ooh this ones tough. uhhh it depends on the situation i first meet them in but generally their voice and speech patterns? when i was a kid i didnt inflect a lot (autism.) so i had to “study” other people… i think that’s kind of a holdover from that ?

7. eye color?

brown! ^_^

8. scary movies or happy endings?

hmmm. depends on what mood i’m in and also how well its written!

9. any special talents?

well i just graduated magna cum laude (CUM? 🤨) with a BFA in graphic design so i HOPE i’m good at that LMAOOOO

outside of that? im decently good at digging through code and messing with hex editing for someone who has no formal coding experience outside of HTML and CSS

10. where were you born?

the united states! i was born in missouri but i’ve lived in georgia most of my life

11. what are your hobbies?

ooh lets see. i like researching unused content and the effects of glitches in video games (lifelong special interest. teehee) in addition to, well. actually playing the games. i used to draw a lot more (if you’re reading this and you followed me from my furry twitter: I’m Sorry) but i’ve shifted a lot of my creative energy towards writing (check out my tycutio fanfiction) and graphic design (i need to post some of my stuff here… my senior project was sims 2 themed even)

12. do you have any pets?

i do! we got my dog daisy (lab mix) when i was really little, and she’s 15 now!

we also have a tortoise named tortimer (after the guy from animal crossing) but we just call him torti

13. how tall are you?

5’8” but i used to be 5’9” before scoliosis nerfed me (<- coping and seething)

14. fave subject in school?

in high school it was probably literature, but in college i’d say typography? i like letters. teehee

15. dream job?

please for the love of god i want a job making promotional materials for a game company SO BAD.

i tag… YOU!!! >:D nahhh jk but i AM gently tapping my mutuals on the shoulder if they want to do this . ^_^

[zippocreed501]

AUTHOR EXTRAORDINAIRE

1. On individuality: 'Everybody has at least one story to tell.'

2. On interruptions: 'The only thing that’s bad for writing is being interrupted. You have to have time to write. And while that seems obvious, you're probably living a life with a lot of interruptions.'

3. On unused writing: 'Writers are like cooks. They keep everything in the refrigerator and put it all in the casserole. What doesn’t go in for dinner tonight, well, it’s gonna show up next Sunday.'

4. On staying engaging: 'There's only one rule of show business, or writing. And that's don't be boring.'

5. On brevity: 'If you can tell a story as briefly as possible, it's more dramatic. If it's too long, then it has the problems of pacing, it could get a little slow. But the shorter you can make a story, the better.'

6. On writing from diverse points of view: 'It's very important to project your own imagination into someone else—for instance, if you're a fairly young person, to write from the point of view of an older person. It's so much more interesting.'

7. On reading: 'I would say almost dogmatically that you can't be a writer unless you're reading all the time and reading with purpose.'

8. On experimentation: 'Writing is a matter of experimentation. And all writers do a lot of revision. So, first you might write a paragraph, and then you might rewrite it, and you might rewrite it again, and then you might write a page. And then basically you keep rewriting to find the rhythm and the voice that's suitable for that story.'

9. On building an audience: 'I think it's very important for writers, whether young or older, to have an audience—to have people who are sympathetic and supportive, but also fellow writers who have critical ideas and constructive suggestions.'

10. On having fun: 'I think one of the main things to remember when you're writing is that writing should be pleasurable. It should be fun. It should be exploratory. You should be writing about things that surprise you.'

11. On looking within: 'Writing is like a spiritual manifestation of something deep within us we don't really know is there.'

12. On giving a voice to the oppressed: 'Another very strong motive throughout history is bearing witness, particularly for people who can't speak for themselves—writing about people, telling the stories of people who have been muted or silenced or even exterminated, and being the one to tell their stories in some historic forum, or as journalism, or as fiction, or poetry. I think that's a very strong impulse.'

13. On playing with structure: 'It's very exciting to experiment with structure. I think that many stories are best told in some elliptical way or some unusual way.'

14. On journaling: 'Keeping a journal sharpens our senses. It's like an exercise in writing. If you're describing a scene, you are practicing the act of writing—which is very important—and thinking in language. Otherwise, you just sort of go through the day with stray thoughts floating around in your head of no particular distinction. But if you're writing things down and really thinking about something and observing, that gives a certain sharpness to your powers of observation.'

15. On the necessity of storytelling: 'There is an instinct in our species to tell stories. It's a way of explaining the universe and explaining our world.'

16. On learning from masters: 'You may want to read Faulkner, Hemingway, James Joyce, Kafka, Thomas Mann, Virginia Woolf. You may want to aim very high because the more you read and the more you're absorbing. When you start to write, you're gonna write on a higher level than you would be if you didn't read these people. It's like the old saying, ‘If you want to learn how to play tennis, you play tennis with somebody who is better than you.'

Author Extraordinaire Joyce Carol Oates

16 quotes on writing

source: www.masterclass.com

[leashade]

40 Questions (2023 edition)

Answering these 40 questions for the first time.

https://github.com/kepano/40-questions

What did you do this year that you’d never done before?

Traveled to a different country to get a visa and also travelled to new continents.

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions?

I don't even remember my resolutions for 2023 honestly. But I am alive, it's already an achievement.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

Almost.

4. Did anyone close to you die?

Not yet.

5. What cities/states/countries did you visit?

Seattle, USA. Jakarta, Indonesia.

6. What would you like to have next year that you lacked this year?

This year was so packed with events, that I'm more afraid that I won't be able to meet the same level of expectations.

7. What date(s) from this year will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

Last week of October, it felt magical.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Got to work at The International 2023 on-site in Seattle.

9. What was your biggest failure?

Not really my failure, but still: contract with Valve was terminated because of Tundra.

10. What other hardships did you face?

Hard to fit all the cool ideas in terms of time

11. Did you suffer illness or injury?

Nope.

12. What was the best thing you bought?

Laptop/PC upgrade, I think? I didn’t have the access to my PC for a while, and this laptop essentially replaced my PC altogether.

To a point when my PC is just standing here unused for a couple of months now, because I just don’t have time to do something about it, and don’t really need to do anything about it for now.

13. Whose behavior merited celebration?

Not sure what the question means exactly, but what Sheepo and other talents did for me this year was spectacular.

14. Whose behavior made you appalled?

A certain pro org’s CEO.

15. Where did most of your money go?

Tech upgrades and food.

16. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

Going to TI12.

17. What song will always remind you of this year?

kendall :3 – Blue Shift

18. Compared to this time last year, are you: happier or sadder? Thinner or fatter? Richer or poorer?

Happier, about the same, definitely richer, but also with way more expenses.

19. What do you wish you’d done more of?

More travelling and socializing, more work. I feel like I could’ve done more, but don’t do enough.

20. What do you wish you’d done less of?

Procrastinating and worrying about stuff.

21. How are you spending the holidays?

Not sure yet.

22. Did you fall in love this year?

No, it happened before.

23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?

No.

24. What was your favorite show?

Kinda hard to say.

Out of everything I watched this year… Probably House of Dragon actually.

UPDATE FROM FUTURE ME: Just finished Loki (Season 2) and now THAT's my favorite show of 2023.

25. What was the best book you read?

Didn’t really spend that much time reading, and most stuff didn’t really make that strong of an impression.

Asimov’s “Naked Sun”, I guess?

26. What was your greatest musical discovery of the year?

Ermmm… Taylor Swift, I guess? Everything else was kinda discovered beforehand.

27. What was your favorite film?

The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent

28. What was your favorite meal?

Nothing out of the ordinary. At least can’t remember.

29. What did you want and get?

Going to TI12.

30. What did you want and not get?

…nothing?

I’ve got everything I wanted, but also I didn’t really want that much to begin with. And I also don’t remember many things.

31. What did you do on your birthday?

I don't remember. Probably working.

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

It’s good enough as it is.

33. How would you describe your personal fashion this year?

Regular dude, I guess? Nothing that looks good or stands out.

34. What kept you sane?

Doing cool things.

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you admire the most?

Nobody really.

36. What political issue stirred you the most?

The same one from the last year.

37. Who did you miss?

Not sure, nobody comes to mind.

38. Who was the best new person you met?

Mary, Chase and Brian. And, well, many more, but these three are the best.

39. What valuable life lesson did you learn this year?

If you act hard, do your best and treat people well, things will get right back at you eventually.

40. What is a quote that sums up your year?

…idk

[dovenymph]

a film by peter parker

authors note: this was inspired by another thinkerpete tweet that read "peter probably watches the bit from "a film by peter parker" where he's in the car with tony over and over when he misses him" and@peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology’s summer of love prompt list💛💛 also the video edit was made by me so please do not screen record/save and repost it even if you do credit me (also this is unedited so sorry for any typos, i’ll probably go through it sometime this week, i just wanted to post it first)

prompts used: 2. making the backyard/rooftop into a movie theater

my masterlist

warnings: mentions of tony’s death, other than that, nothing but fluff

word count: 3.9k

Peter hated the summer.

Peter hated not having anything to busy himself with; no homework, or academic decathlon, or seeing Ned everyday who could wrap him up in his graphic novel fan theories or the drama in his on and off relationship with Betty. It was petty drama and minor stimulation, but it was something to distract him momentarily. But now Ned was in Aruba with his parents for the entire month which meant Peter had to suffer through the scorching heat of Juy all by himself.

Peter knew he didn’t have to be alone each day, -Aunt May had spent many dinners trying to get him to join her at the movies or the mall, even offering to let him have free reign of the lego store (when he said no to that, she knew he was in worse shape than she thought)- he had a handful of trustworthy and dependable friends he could hang out with for the afternoon like MJ and Betty, or even Flash who had been uncharacteristically nice to Peter ever since he found out he was Spiderman; this having happened only a few weeks after Tony had died and Peter had let him in on his secret to console a sobbing Eugene who, honestly, seemed to be more broken up about the news than Peter was. But even with his expanding friend group, Peter had found the most his body could endure was the contents of his bedroom.

He tried to get back out there after Tony’s passing, he really did, but at the first Iron Man tribute he admired on patrol, his body completely shut down and he swung back home, tears dampening the material of the mask.

So a lonely summer was what Peter submitted himself too, and he’s come to terms with it. He’s rewatched his favorite old shows, started binging some new ones. He’s taken apart and put together his lego death star four times now, each time faster than the last. But he’s been particularly fond of staring out the window. His apartment complex was quite close to the building besides his and he could look down into the backyard everyone had to share. Peter’s building had one as well, but since he was pretty sure he was the only person under 35 who lived there, it went unused.

Next door, there was always a different activity occurring in order for the patrons to beat the heat, and Peter often thought about how easy it would be for him to just go downstairs and introduce himself, and ask to join. It’d really be as simple as that and he’d meet some new people, get a free lunch and a chance to swim in the plastic pool they set up; maybe they’d laugh at his jokes and clap when he did flips, but it was all just a maybe, just in his imagination because his brain never let him wander to far before squandering the idea of getting close to someone again, for if history has taught Peter anything, it's that anything he gets close to, is not meant to stay for long and will be soon snatched away from him in the cruelest of ways.

And this thought is what resigns him to slink back behind his window and pout the day away, as he was doing now, vision blurring as he stared at nothing.

“Hey!”

Peter jumped, his eyes focusing on the target of whoever pelted his window and they landed on your form, slumped against your open windowsill, chin resting on your hand as you gazed back at him.

“Can I help you?” Peter bit back after lifting his window half way, his tone unconsciously laced with annoyance. He really didn’t even notice it anymore since that’s how he’s been speaking to everyone in his life for months now, but when you flinched at his tone, guilt started to creep up his spine.

Before he could ever begin to stumble out an apology, you cut him off “Yeah, is there a reason you stare into my room everyday?”

Peter's face flushed red and he opened and closed his mouth like a fish. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had spoken so bluntly towards him, and honestly, he liked it. He was getting tired of everyone walking on tiptoes around him, he just wanted things to go back to how they were, where he was just Peter Parker, your friendly neighborhood student.

“Or could you at least give me some money for some curtains if you just can’t give up the beautiful view of a concrete wall?”

“S-sorry, I- I didn’t even know you were there.”

Lie.

Peter knew you were there, he always knew when you were there.

Peter Parker isn’t a stalker, though! Sure, he’s gone through some fucked up shit on Earth and in space, so yeah, he wouldn’t call himself the most …sane person he knows, but he really wasn’t a creep. With your buildings being so close and your rooms directly across from one anothers, he was bound to notice you at some point.

And at some point he did. It was the first day of summer and Midtown let out at 12 instead of 3 to mark the occasion, so Peter had been mulling about in his room for quite some time already, thinking about how he heard all his classmates amazing summer plans and how the farthest he was going to go was probably the Thai restaurant down the street, and even that was a maybe. Peter sulked in silence until a couple hours later he heard a door slam closed, thumps from things being tossed on the ground, and a loud groan as he peeked through his windowsill at you who was currently flopped on the bed, window wide open without a care, scrolling on your phone.

At first, he was taken aback by your beauty, a small, small feeling of intrigue spiked his system, but it flew under the radar due to the seemingly everlasting dread that’s been weighing down on Peter's shoulders for months. But he couldn’t look away. You’d been doing nothing but looking at tiktoks mindlessly, occasionally cracking a half smile if a video was particularly amusing, but you still remained cemented to your mattress with no plans on moving anytime soon.

This brought comfort to Peter as he fished his phone out from the bottom of his bag and pulled up Ned’s messages and started to look through the media he sent him, almost two months worth of funny memes and videos that he hadn’t been bothered to look at, and he sat there along with you, aimlessly letting the time pass by. He enjoyed it, knowing he wasn’t really alone in his lazy and distracting behaviors because the pretty neighbor girl was doing just the same.

Ever since then, he’s just been …aware… of your coming and goings. He figured you had a summer job as every other day you were gone for a few hours, a solid shift. But on the days you were home, you also spent it mainly up in your room, every now and then, playing music from your record player, and if he was really lucky, you’d, unknowingly, give him a private concert as you sung out whichever niall horan or ariana grande song struck your fancy that day. He grew quite fond of the music, having added some of the regulars to his own playlist. And he enjoyed knowing you were right there, and he was right here; each of you living your lives, as uneventful as they may be, but you were together in some sort of way.

He’d never spoken to you, the ability of being able to just push his window up and call out to you at any time was what he liked, and each day he thought he’d do it but chickened out, and now it seemed like he’d have to make introductions whether he was ready or not.

“Mmm, right, so you haven’t seen me change or anything like that?” You asked and the content of your question and the inquisitive tone brought a flush to his cheeks.

“N-no! Of course not! I-I’d never do that, why would I even want to look at you? I mean! I don’t think you’re ugly or anything I… I just…”

Peter’s ramblings were cut off with your laugh as it bounced off the summer air and into his room. You were fully leaning out your open window now, and Peter had found himself in the same position, as if he was drawn to you.

“I was only joking with ya, but it's still nice to have the confirmation. I’m Y/N, your neighbor! Obviously.” You trailed off at the end, knowing that information was unnecessary since the boy next door obviously already knew that.

He was like no boy you’d ever seen before, only read about in books. He had a sweet disposition and inviting brown eyes that matched his soft chestnut hair. But he was built like a man, a strong jaw and strong arms. You’d seen him leaving his building everyday on your way to school, and when he’d get dropped off in a big black SUV during the late hours of the night, but he walked in the opposite direction or darted inside so fast,you never really got a chance to take him in.

“…Peter?” His tentative tone snapped you out of your daze and you realized he was introducing himself.

“Sorry, Peter! I- I… got distracted… by your… death star!” You let out, eyes focusing on the black and grey figure resting on his bed.

Peter felt his cheeks heat up as he moved to push it to the ground.

“That’s pretty cool! I finished the star wars series last summer.”

Peter’s eyes snapped up to yours and the friendly smile you were giving him along with the genuine interest in your tone seemed to break something inside him, snapped the band of hesitation that wrapped around his heart. “You did? For the first time?”

“Yeah! I know I’m like super late, but there’s like nine movies!”

Your laughs melded into one as you leaned out your respective windows and began talking about your favorite movie series. Peter was aware that this was unnatural for him. He had been more open to this stranger in the past few minutes than he had to his own Aunt in months and the same guilt from earlier crept up on him. But Peter was having a good time talking to you and he felt his insides turn in excitement when he realized you really had no idea who he was. He had a clean slate with you and he could make any first impression he wanted, well he hoped your first impression of him wasn’t that he was a peeping pervert, but we move, as MJ would say.

You were about to start telling Peter about this new dystopian novel you began reading when you heard a woman call out to him.

“Oh, that’s my Aunt May. She must be home from work. I- I should go say hello.” He explained, a sad look crossing his face that you didn’t quite understand.

You felt your own sadness wash over you, though. You didn’t want to stop talking to Peter either. “Yeah, of course!”

“But we can talk tomorrow right?” Peter asked, his tone laced with uncertainty.

“Oh well, I work double tomorrow… so I probably won’t be home ‘til late.” You said and the way the brown haired boys face visibly fell felt like a punch in the gut and you were scrambling for a reason to make him smile.

“B-but hey! I also get paid tomorrow so if you want, you can come over on saturday and we can have a movie night and we can order a shit ton of take out?”

“Come over to your place?” Peter asked, and he felt himsef involuntarily tense at the idea of leaving his room for the first time in weeks. It was safe in his room. But the pleading look on your face and hopefulness in your tone encouraged him to take the chance.

“I’d love to y/n.” Peter said with a soft smile and you smiled back shyly at him before closing your window and making your way out your room, making sure you were safe in the hall, away from his prying eyes to do a little happy dance.

Peter was unable to wipe the grin off his face as he walked out his room to greet his Aunt.

She heard his feet padding down the hall as she was setting out dinner, “Sorry its not ready yet, Petey, today’s been crazy, but I’ll get started now.” She rushed. Recently, she’s been hoping food’s the key to lift her poor nephews spirits, so each night she’ll either order or make something more fattening, cheesy, and delicious than the last.

“It’s alright May,” Peter let out easily as he turned the counter and placed a kiss on her cheek, “why don’t you let me cook tonight?”

May’s jaw dropped and she blinked a couple times. She could barely get two words out of Peter recently, and they were always either a meak thank you for dinner or an it was good when she asked about his day. She felt her eyes tear up at the slight sliver of her old Petey back.

“O-oh, really, you wanna cook?”

Peter ducked his head down at the ingredients in front of him to avoid looking in her eyes, his heart dropping at the glossiness that overtook them. He truly hadn’t realized how closed off he’d been. “Well, how about we do it together?” He began and the face splitting grin that spread across May’s face was all he needed to know he was taking a step in the right direction.

“G-good idea, honey. Can’t have the house burn down, can we?”

“Hey!”

May laughed and kissed Peter’s head as they began winding through the kitchen, making casual conversation. It was just like the old days, May thought. Before the wave of devastation drowned Peter as he lost a father figure, once again.

“So what did you do today, P? Do you know when Ned get’s back? I’m sure you’re both excited to see each other.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I am. I don’t know when he get’s back actually, but that’s okay-“

“I know you like your peace and quiet, I really do, but I do think it’ll be good for you to get out of the apartment for a little bit, see if Michelle is available. Oh! Or maybe that Lisa, Liz! I liked Liz, see if she’s available-“

“May! Its okay. I don’t need to hang out with Liz Allen,” Peter grumbled, “I- I made a new friend actually.”

May looked over at Peter in confusion since he hadn’t gone out or had anyone over in weeks, that she could remember; and Peter took her silence as an opportunity to continue.

“The neighbor.”

“Mrs. Wozniak?”

“No! Y/n, she lives in the next building over. And my room is right across from hers. We’re gonna hang out on saturday.”

“Oh?” May raised her brows at her nephew and bit back a smile, much to Peter’s chagrin. “Is she pretty?”

“And that’s relevant why?”

“I don’t know!!” May drawled and Peter just rolled his eyes and kept chopping the vegetables in front of him, the blush adorning his cheeks refusing to go down as he thought yes, yes she is.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

You yanked the door open as soon as you heard Peter’s knocks against it. He jumped back a bit, his arm still partially raised from when he knocked and you silently berated yourself for being so eager, but the spreading smile across his face made you feel not so bad.

“Oh, sorry, I was just-“

“It’s alright.” Peter replied with a soft smile, and you let yourself trace the golden flecks in his eyes before he cleared his throat, once again, snapping you out of a daze. You seemed to be in a dreamy state around him alot.

“Can I come in? I brought my Star Wars DVD collection by the way, I know you’ve seen them, but this one has the director's cut which I thought totally changed the course of the first trilogy!” Peter explained, rocking on the balls of his feet in excitement.

You bit your lip at the sight, his cuteness was rubbing off on you. “Yeah, that sounds great, but actually we aren’t gonna be watching in here.” You said, grabbing the bag of Chinese food and snacks and stepping out.

Peter’s face sputtered as you both walked to the stairs. He’d spent all day building up his courage to just go six feet from his building, there was no way he’d be able to go around the city with you for the fear of seeing something that’ll remind him of the avengers or crime.

“Y’alright?” You asked, noticing Peter’s stony silence as you walked down the last flight and made your way to the back gate.

“Yeah, sorry, I guess I’m just nervous. I haven’t really hung out with anyone new in a while, well, with anyone at all really.”

You smiled in sympathy, “I get you, I haven’t either. All my friends are out of town, so I’ve mostly just hung out in my room, too.”

“But you already knew that, don’t ya stalker?”

Peter rolled his eyes and shoved your arm as you laughed, glad you got his nerves out of his system. You unlocked the gate and lef Peter to the back garden.

“Woah..” Peter let out. There was a large white sheet hung up between two trees, and a projector set up on the table behind where a blanket lay, covered in a mess of pillows. The setting sun lit up by strung lightbulbs.

“You like? I figured since we both seemed to be home bodies, we could have the fun of the movie theatre, but here!”

Peter felt his heart swell at your words. You’d only known him for two days, and you already treated him with so much consideration and kindness. “I- I love it, y/n. This is amazing.”

He saw how you tucked your cheek into your shoulder in bashfulness and felt his spirits raise even higher. You were adorable.

“I’m glad you like it. I hope the projector works though, it took me forever to translate the instructions.”

Peter walked over to it and gave it a once over. “It seems fine to me, but I can always look at it if you want.”

“Oh yeah? You good with tech?”

“Good enough to get by. I needed it a lot while working with Mr. Stark” Peter began, forgetting that he wasn’t talking to an old friend.

“You worked with Tony Stark?!?”

“Oh.. oh yeah, only for a little! I was an intern.” He said quietly, beating himself up for even bringing up the topic of Tony. The last thing he wanted to do was cry in front of a pretty girl.

“Wow, that must’ve been amazing. You, you must miss him a lot then, huh?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled lifelessly. “Yeah I do.”

“But no matter, we’re here to have a good time right?”

“Yeah, yeah we are!” You grasped his hand and gave him a sympathetic squeeze -neither of you blind to the sparks that shot from the place your hands met- and got settled on the blanket.

Two and a half moves later, the sun had set and the two of you were sitting in the darkness, the only light coming from the flickering of the projector as the abandoned movie played. You and Peter were sitting cross legged, facing each other as he told you another story about working with the Avengers.

“Yeah, it was so crazy!! We were in this airport and he went from being like two inches tall to two hundred feet, it blew my mind. But it was okay though, because I had this idea-“

“Wait, wait, wait. You were there? Why?” You asked, loving every adventure filled anecdote he told you, but it wasn’t all adding up. For just an intern, he seemed incredibly close to Mr. Stark himself, but then again, you’d only known him for less than a week and you also wanted to go everywhere with him.

Peter worried his lip, thinking about how he could worm his way out of this one. Why would a teenage intern be at the Avengers civil war? He figured he could lie, or even just run away and buy black out curtains. Maybe he could convince Aunt May to switch rooms with him even. But you’d already brought so much light to his life in multiple aspects, and he thought, just maybe, you’d be able to bring light to that aspect of his life too.

“You know what, lemme just show you! Wait here, I’ll be back!”

Peter ran back down, his Chewbacca flash drive in hand, adrenaline running through his veins. He plugged it into your laptop and dug up a folder he hadn’t touched in almost eight months.

“What’s this?” You asked as he sat back down next to you.

“You’ll see.” He said, eyes glued to the screen in front of him.

A Film by Peter Parker, read the title as a compilation of videos featuring Peter, Happy, Aunt May, the Avengers, and Tony projected before you both.

Peter heard you gasp as the camera flashed to the suit, and saw, from the corner of his eye, how your head snapped towards his as he backspringed across the battleground. The film continued and neither of you could tear your eyes from the screen. Peter felt his eyes well up with tears as a scene with him and Tony talking to the camera began and he thought that watching this was a bad idea and he was about to turn around and turn it off when he felt your fingers intertwine with his.

He sucked in a sharp breath at the warmth you brought him and he squeezed back, his brain nearly malfunctioning at the speed in which he tried to memorize the feel of your hand in his. But his senses were overloaded as he picked up on your accelerated heartbeat.

The two of you continued to watch the video, neither moving even when it autostarted from the beginning, and this time you laughed outwardly at the funny parts, and asked him questions about why Happy didn’t seem to like him.

“What did you do to him Peter?”

“Nothing I swear!”

“Likely story.”

And he felt the steel blanket of grief fall off his shoulders. The feeling of intrigue and excitement for going back to life was no longer a small trail buried deep within him, but now a firecracker that ignited his insides and aurated off of him. Things were going to be alright, he was going to make it out this summer with more than just the memories from his bedroom, and he’d make it through whatever else life would throw at him, as long as he had you by his side.

Because you didn’t make his heart beat faster out of fear, you made him feel flustered and full of affection.

And you didn’t hold him roughly, with the intent to harm him; you held him delicately, and he could only wait to be able to hold your heart the same way.

[thursdaygirlgn]

do not leave me in this abyss | 1.4k | ao3

“You said I killed you-haunt me, then! [...] Be with me always—take any form—drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!”

A couple of weeks after Chuck’s defeat and Dean still hasn’t washed the handprint off the jacket. Instead, he prays.

The ice in Dean’s whiskey glass has long since melted but condensation still drips down, marking a path on the floor as he sets the glass down and picks it up over and over, never drinking but pretending he could.

Twenty days past Chuck’s defeat and Dean has nothing to show but empty spaces. At times it doesn't even feel like he’s free, like he managed to escape, and it's just the AuthorGod of his life knows that what he’s doing is too boring to present to the audience. The man never knew how to write about a lack of action.

Across from Dean’s perch on his bed and draped across a chair is the jacket, the one he’s mysteriously unable to find any time Sam comes in to do the laundry, but resurfaces the moment the door is closed. With nowhere else to go, his eyes drift to it.

The handprint. It stares at him; bright red against the green background and Dean may have never taken an art class but he’d passed through enough towns with Christmas as the main event to know how the colors pop. A faint ache in his left shoulder, the arm he’s been using to hold the glass. If he closes his eyes he could trace the faint white lines of the handprint even now, 12 years after it was burned more than skin-deep.

Once, when helping Sam study for a test, he’d read about a man who’d been in an accident—something happened to his brain—and that man lost the ability to make memories and so had to leave his family to be protected by strangers, scientists. He couldn’t remember anything about his new life, everything he had was from before, but he was able to form muscle memory despite having no knowledge of how.

That’s Dean. He’s stuck here, stuck with no ability to move on and become someone else, rooted in a past he clings on to as the present. Repeating this over and over again, going through the motions until he goes to sleep and hopes that maybe this time, when he wakes up, Cas will be back. That’s how it happened once before, right? Coming back from the dead and Cas’ number on his phone and sheer relief striking through Dean hot and quick that he had managed to survive.

He doesn’t know when it happened, but every move he makes turns to Cas, some habit that had snuck up on him. In the dead of night, he’d wake up, arm numb, and discover that he’d been laying on it in his sleep, right hand clutching the scar.

When that happens he never returns to his dreams, dark as they are, choosing instead to stumble once more to the Bunker library, searching for ways into the Empty. Sam’s found him more than once passed out over a book older than the country. He learned quickly not to wake Dean when he’s like that.

Setting the glass down, Dean closes his eyes, takes the end of the jacket in his hands—avoiding the handprint—and starts his prayer.

“Cas,” he begins, voice already thick. He speaks at no more than a whisper but feels every nerve alight like he’s screaming this to the world.

“It’s been a couple of weeks since you left me, and this world is still turning. Well, turning again, there have been some advancements in the plot since you last saw us. I’ll tell you all about them when I see you again.”

He thinks he may have just quoted something. Cas and his angel-granted pop culture encyclopedia would know, though he wouldn’t be able to use it right. Warmth blooms in Dean and he ducks his head, feeling the smile tugging at his lips. It doesn’t quite make it to launch, but Cas has always been able to bring one out of Dean, even in the darkest times of the darkest times, when the light at the end of the tunnel bled red.

“But we did it Cas, we won, like I’ve told you before. I’d say I couldn’t do it without you but I did because I had to, even though I wish I didn’t.”

No, really , he thinks, remembering what it was like to stand his own against Chuck. He may have fought for free will, for an ability to write his own script, but Dean’s words weren’t his own: they were Cas’, some of his last.

He doesn’t know if thought counts as part of the prayer—never got the courage to ask—but he hopes it does. From what he’s heard of the Empty, he doesn’t want Cas to be alone.

“And I—I know you get scared sometimes when we find something new,” Dean continues. “Believe me, I do too. Chuck may have monologued about how you’re a beacon of Free Will but I know you, and I know you’ve made some choices you regret. But when I get to you, when I manage to break into the Empty and rescue you for once, I need you to let me.”

He breathes hard, his chest burning. One, two. Somewhere in the Bunker Sam drops something, a crash followed by a muffled curse. So many rooms unused when it’s just the two of them; Dean hasn’t touched the Dean Cave in weeks. After a beat, he adds:

“Besides, I’ve made you sit through Star Wars enough times, you’ll know your lines.”

For all that Dean has been unable to think about anything but Cas since the handprint left on his shoulder, none of that thinking has gone into the future. His plan so far is this: research, find something (a spell, a tablet, a god, a witch, anything) that can reach into the Empty, and use it to save Cas. He moves past that point and it’s all static, a radio caught between frequencies.

But he thinks, in the quiet ways, in moments of sharing movies and music and a son and a life, it all proves that what comes next can’t be totally hopeless, that Cas couldn't have been totally hopeless. For twelve long years, Cas knew Dean before Dean knew himself, so why is this different?

Cas said he couldn’t have what he wanted, but Chuck is dead and free will hangs high in the air like laughter. And Dean says so.

“You told me that you couldn’t have what you wanted, the one thing you wanted. Me, right?” The words are hard to choke out, but he forces himself to be brave the way Cas was. “Well, when the world thrives, when the apocalypse is over and we have time to breathe, that’s when you get to move past needs, that’s when you get to have your wants. Do you hear me? I need you to hear me.

“You say I changed you? Prove it then. Come back. Be changed. You’ve saved me from gods and angels and monsters more times than I could count, but you also saved me from myself. I’m returning the favor, but don’t you dare think this is a quid pro quo.”

No response on the one-way street. He keeps his eyes closed, lets the darkness settle over him like a skin. The fabric is rough and sturdy underneath his fingertips and he imagines reaching up towards the shoulder and his hand coming away wet as if Cas only just cashed in on the deal that's left Dean breathless ever since. Dean could just grab his hand, still dripping blood, and bandage it even though angels don’t need it because taking care of Cas like this is the only way he knows how.

But he doesn’t risk it, doesn’t want to contaminate what he has left of Cas.

“I’ve told you before that I need you,” Dean says, rounding out the prayer. He should get up, check on Sam, wash the dishes piling up in his room. A million steps to take before he can truly, deeply sleep. Who knows who will be at his side when that happens. “But I never let you know that I want you. Never let you know a lot of things, I guess. But I do, Cas.

“I really, really do.”

[hockeyboysiguess]

three french horns -> three goal horns | n. mackinnon

a/n: and like clockwork, here is fic number three in my 12 days of christmas series! i wrote this one a while ago and i hurt myself re-reading it to proof it, so i hope you all like it! rest of the christmas series linked here.

word count:  4,037

warnings: alcohol, drinking 

“Hey, Nate?” you called out from the living room when you heard the back door open, signaling his reappearance in the house after letting the dogs outside. 

“Yeah, baby?” he asked as he stomped his boots on the mat, shaking the last bit of the early Denver snow off. 

You asked the question you’d been asking him since two weeks after his birthday, the same question you’d been asking a variation of for the three months before his birthday. “Nate, what do you want for Christmas?” 

The sound that left Nate’s mouth was barely human, a groan coming from deep within, from the place that never knew what he wanted for any major gift giving holiday of any kind. You tried to be original, get sentimental things, but it was hard to buy for someone who could literally buy anything they ever wanted. Nate didn’t have big, expensive wishes, so if he wanted something, he often just bought it on the spot and you were none-the-wiser until it showed up at his house. This penchant, this bad habit, carried throughout the holiday season; it was a perpetual state of being for Nathan MacKinnon. This meant that items Nate ordered for himself were as likely to show up December 24th as any other day of the year, which was eternally infuriating as a person in his life trying to buy him gifts on the semi-regular basis. 

“I don’t know,” he answered you, like he did every other time. “I’ll like it because it’s from you.” 

That response was sweet the first, second, and half-sweet the third time he’d used it on you. Now, that response was worn out like an old pair of jeans, with holes in the thighs and the knees hanging together by a thread, absolutely unusable at this point in time really. Yet Nate continued to say it, like that string of seven words didn’t light a fire in your stomach completely unlike the kind crackling under the stockings on the mantle right now. 

“Nate,” you groaned, all too similarly to how he had when you asked your question. Spend enough time with a person and you pick up their habits. You and Nate were a completely unoriginal example of that. “You know I hate when you say that.” 

Nate rolled his eyes and shrugged, “Well, I don’t really know. A hat trick? But you can’t get me that, I’ve got to get that for me.” 

The infamous illusive hat trick. While it wasn’t those dreaded seven words, you were pretty sure you had heard about this hat trick that was alluding him every other day at this point. In all fairness to Nate, the amount of times he had scored twice in the first two periods of a game this season and been held off the scoreboard in the second was absurd. Commentators were joking about it, his teammates were chirping him over not one, not two, but three missed empty netters that would’ve sealed it, even though Nate liked to say those didn’t really count as hat tricks. Greater than all of that, Nate was starting to incredibly frustrated with himself and his performances. You knew Nate was a competitive guy before you even went on your first date with him, but his competitiveness ran deep and honestly you weren’t sure your relationship would work if you were even an ounce more competitive than you were. Nate had to win, he had to achieve his goals. This goal was quite simply just three goals, but it continued to be just out of reach this season and coming up on the holiday season, pushing the halfway mark, Nate was starting to think it might not happen this year. 

“You’ll get one, Nate,” you sighed. “You’re so close and you’re too good not to get whatever you put your mind to.” 

“I got a good feeling about the game tomorrow,” he replied, sliding up next to you on the couch to throw a Christmas sweater-covered arm around your shoulders. “My good luck charm is going to be there, right?” 

Nate wasn’t superstitious in the slightest, but he said he always scored more whenever you came. Statistically, a complete lie, but it made you feel special all the same. He kissed your temple softly as he relaxed into the couch cushions next to you. 

“So, what are we watching? Classic or trashy Christmas?” 

That question itself somehow encapsulated every single reason you loved Nathan MacKinnon, despite his pension for buying his own Christmas presents, his overly competitive nature, and the difficulty that came with trying to buy him a present. Nate didn’t love Christmas movies; he wasn’t a hater like some people you’d dated before, but you adored them, both classic and trashy alike. Nate jumped on board with whatever you liked, no questions asked. He always said you didn’t sign up to date all of his teammates that walked through the door scrounging for homemade food or the long hours alone, the least he could do was be as supportive of the things you liked as you were about hockey for him. Nate’s support came in casual, steady waves of constantly and consistently showing up, no matter how tired he was, no matter how long the day before had been. He might fall asleep twenty minutes into the movie, but Nate was here and active and present for as long as he could stay awake. He’d cross deserts and move mountains for an hour with you, and some days that’s what it took, but Nate showed up and jumped on board, which made him the easiest person in the world to love in spite of everything else. It made him the only person you wanted to spend this Christmas and every other one in the future with.

The next day, with his last name on your back and a Santa hat on your head, you found yourself in a position that felt all too familiar this season. You were watching the ice with eager eyes among the other wives and girlfriends. Your breath caught in your throat halfway through the first when you saw two seconds after him that there was nothing between Nate and the net but open ice and a goaltender. You slowly stood up, leaning forward as if those all important inches would help you see the ice better. You didn’t miss the puck sailing over the blocker’s side of the goaltender, or the eruption of cheers from everyone around you as the goal horn rang out, hopefully the first of three for Nate this evening. Mel hugged you, as if you had anything to do with Nate scoring. You adjusted your hat, pulling at the fluffy white edge until it sat a little less haphazardly on your head as you cheered. 

“Two more, right?” Mel waggled her eyebrows at you and you rolled your eyes. 

“For my sake, I hope so,” you laughed. 

Going into Christmas break without this elusive hat trick meant the next four days would be spent with Nate’s mind half at the rink, trying to scheme and plan and game his way into a hat trick, as if the part he was missing was anything other than luck. Maybe he didn’t need regular luck though, maybe just a little bit of Christmas would do the trick tonight. Your third beer in, a vain attempt to calm your nerves with alcohol, and five minutes into the second, on the power play, you watched as Nate easily sailed in his second goal of the game from the high slot, causing the ever familiar cheers and the ringing of the Avalanche goal horn to sound out across the arena. 

Two down, and hopefully one to go. 

“Hatty watch,” one of the other girls sang out from behind you, giving your shoulders a squeeze. 

You let out a loud, long breath, causing a wave of laughter to ripple across the other women around you. Mel teased you about it; they all did. Nate’s quest was well known among the group, something they were equally supportive and teasing about. 

“He’ll get one,” Mel assured you with a comforting pat to your leg. “He’s too good not to.”

You really thought he had it. You watched as Mikko and Nate peeled off from the defenders caught on an odd change, leading to a two-on-one with a lone opposing forward doing his best, but poor, impersonation of a defensemen. Mikko passed the puck to Nate, which Nate passed back easily and set himself up for the perfect slap shot on the return. The quick passing had sent the other team’s player sprawling over the ice. It was just Nate and the goaltender, who was frantically shifting his eyes from Mikko to Nate, tilting back and forth on the ice. Mikko’s pass was perfect, right on the middle of Nate’s tape and Nate was ready for the pass. It was tracking high glove side, exactly where Nate wanted it to go, right into the back of the net. The goalie was facing Mikko, two key seconds behind the actual action. Except out of nowhere, the Grinch stole Christmas and Nate’s hat trick when the goalie’s glove suddenly appeared in the path the puck was taking and wrapped around the puck, just on the wrong side of the goal line for Nate. 

The referee blew the whistle and signaled no goal. Nate’s hands dropped down, stick hanging low. His head tilted up toward the ceiling of the arena and you could practically hear the groan rise from deep in his chest. It was absolute robbery at its finest and the entire arena knew luck wasn’t on Nate’s side that night. You slumped down into your seat, preparing yourself for yet another two goal game and a frustrated Nate waiting for you in the tunnel when it was over. There were another twenty minutes left in the game, but if the first half of the season had taught you anything, third periods weren’t where Nate racked up anything other than wins and assists, both of which he loved, but he just wanted a third goal, just once. Mikko and Gabe each having one already this season, all six goals involving Nate as either the primary or secondary assist, didn’t help either. 

“I think you need to pray or something,” Mel told you with a laugh. “Pray to anything and anyone out there at this point.”

You cleared your throat and looked up at the ceiling of the Pepsi arena, “Santa, I know this isn’t how you take requests,” Mel and the girls around you were already laughing, “but please, pretty freaking please, can we just get some Christmas miracle magic vibes in here? It’s all he wants for Christmas. Please and thank you and I hope you have a Merry Christmas.” 

“Are you supposed to say amen if you pray to Santa?” someone behind you asked. 

“Look I’m not opposed to it,” you sighed. “It just didn’t feel like the right ending when I was asking for a Christmas miracle.”

The girls all laughed and you just stared up at the ceiling. Maybe Santa might grant your unorthodox request delivered via an even more unorthodox method. Maybe you should’ve written him a letter and dropped it into one of those charity red mailboxes at Macy’s. Maybe Nate just wouldn’t be getting the one thing he wanted for Christmas and there was absolutely nothing you could do about it. You knew he was joking when he asked for a hat trick for Christmas, but joking or not, it was the only thing he even sort of mentioned wanting. If sending out a Christmas wish audibly in the middle of the Pepsi arena was what it took, you were more than happy to do it. 

You grabbed your fourth and fifth beer together during the intermission, knowing full and well that you didn’t want to miss a second of one of Nate’s shifts in case something good happened. If after all of this time, all of this waiting, all of Nate’s back and forth debating, if you missed his hat trick goal because you were grabbing another beer, you would have to guess that higher powers didn’t exist and the hockey gods loved laughing at you and maybe Christmas wasn’t that magical after all. 

The third period was half over when you finished your fourth beer. Your right leg had been bouncing on the concrete since the period started. Nate was getting some good looks, and added another assist to his point tally for the night, but you and everyone knew what he actually wanted tonight. A slashing call with eight minutes to go put the Avalanche back on the power play, and you knew Nate was going to fight to play every bit of those two minutes he could get, which meant you were about to be in for a mentally exhausting two minutes. Mel offered her hand to you, already knowing you would need her to ground you through this. 

The first shot on the power play from Mikko ended up in the opposing goaltender’s glove. Nate lined up for the next face-off and you swore you didn’t breathe as soon as the puck left the referee's hand. Nate swept it back easily to a waiting Gabe. You gripped Mel’s hand hard, grateful you both did this for each other often enough that she didn’t mind. Nate slid up through the low slot and you saw the stars aligning as Gabe sent the puck perfectly in Nate’s direction. Nate was already ready for it when it came, the puck on his stick for less than a second. Your eyes went wide and you felt like you were about to break Mel’s hand as the goaltender shrugged his shoulder up to block Nate’s shot, but he came up short and the puck hit the back of the net. 

You were screaming as you jumped to your feet, arms wrapping tightly around Mel as someone else hugged you from behind, again like you’d done anything other than practically give yourself a heart attack watching it. Nate was surrounded by his teammates on the ice, earning a swift pat on the top of the head from Gabe. A glance up at the Jumbotron showed you the wide, bright smile on his face, filling with relief and absolute joy. Mel grabbed your hat by the pom pom and chucked it down towards the ice, making you laugh and a smile that rivaled Nate’s come across your face.

“Finally,” you breathed out a sigh of relief as the arena calmed itself, calming you with it. 

You plopped back down into your seat, hatless with half a beer and your pride in Nate left to coast you through the next ten minutes. You knew Nate was going to be in a good mood, and you just wanted to get through the next ten minutes of the game to get to him and congratulate him yourself. The score was heavy in favor of the Avs and they weren’t in any danger of losing this game, so you got to drink your beer and let out a long breath you’d been holding since Nate first came home after back to back two goal games in October without a hat trick in sight. 

You were practically bouncing on your heels as you waited in the tunnel for him, fingers fussing with the frayed edge of your denim jacket to get out some of your anxious energy. The second he rounded the corner, a wide, gorgeous smile on his face, you ran toward him. Nate wasn’t the type for large public displays of affection, but satisfaction from your incredibly competitive boyfriend was a hell of an influencer and he opened his arms wide for you. You jumped into him and he stumbled a second before catching you easily, one hand guiding your legs around his waist, the other supporting the back of your thighs. 

“Congratulations,” you mumbled in his ear as he laughed at your openly shared excitement for him. 

“Thanks, baby,” he told you, the smile he was wearing evident in his voice.

“Proud of you always,” you reminded him as you untucked your head from his neck. 

You said it after every single game, win or lose, five points or no points, goal or no goal, you told Nate you were proud of him after every single game. The stats sheet didn’t matter to you. You loved him and you saw the grueling work he put in every single day, every single second he was on the ice. You were proud of him no matter what, and it was one of the thousands of reasons he had come to love you for. Your support, your pride in him and the work he put in never wavered. It was steadfast, something hard to come by in a life as crazy as he lived. You were his rock, his home, and he felt it like the gradual, comforting warmth from sitting by the fire on Christmas Eve, when the world seemed a little more good than it actually was, when you told him you were proud of him. 

Nate smiled as he pressed a soft, quick kiss to your lips before gently guiding your feet back to the ground. He pulled you in tighter, collapsing you into him as he let out a long breath that had been holding his tension for months, caught in the hollows of his chest, finally working its way out into the open air. It had been haunting him, like a ghastly Halloween hangover that dared to last until Christmas. Thankfully, it was December now and Nate felt lighter and freer than he had in months. 

“You got what you wanted for Christmas,” you mumbled into his chest, causing his chest to vibrate with laughter. 

“Guess I sort of did, yeah.” He kissed the top of your head softly. “Ready to go home?” 

“Ready for four days of you and me time?” you teased him a little. 

Despite your teasing, his response was entirely genuine, “Been looking forward to it for weeks now.” 

Your smile in response to his words stuck with you the entire way home. Nate loved you in actions, but sometimes it was nice to hear words from him as well. You kicked off your shoes at the front door, just in the knick of time before the dogs could come and greet you both. 

“Want me to crack a bottle of wine or champagne?” you asked Nate as he dropped his bag by the front door. 

“Champagne,” he told you before dropping a kiss to your temple. “We’re celebrating tonight.” 

You slid into the kitchen, dogs hot on your heels, as you made a beeline for the champagne in the fridge. You’d slid it in before you left for the game on the chance Nate finally got his hat trick tonight. You hadn’t wanted to drink warm champagne if that was the case and now, holding the cold bottle of champagne and two flutes, you knew you had made the right decision betting on your boyfriend tonight. He rounded the corner into the kitchen a few moments later, game day suit still on, jacket and tie lost back in your shared bedroom.

“Glad you got yourself what you wanted for Christmas, Nate,” you smiled teasingly at him as you started to fuss with the gold foil over the champagne cork. 

“Before you pop that,” he told you, reaching a hand out to place over yours as you worked on the foil covering the cork, “I, um, I have something for you.” 

“Nate, it’s December twenty-third,” you sighed, setting the bottle down on the cool stone counter. “Can’t it wait a couple of days?” 

Nate smiled softly at you, a smile that seemed to mean he knew more than you in this exact moment, “I’ve actually been holding on to this gift for a long time and I think tonight is the perfect night to give it to you. Are you okay if I blow up Christmas a little bit?” 

You sighed again and gave Nate a stern look up and down, but the softness in his blue eyes and the innocence in his lazy smile pulled you in and had you nodding in approval. Your nod caused nerves to dance in Nate’s eyes and his hands to slide into his pockets, fidgeting with their contents. He shifted softly from one foot to the other. His eyes dropped to the floor for a moment to watch his feet move before he slowly lifted his head back up in time with a bounce on his heels. 

“Okay, here we go,” he mumbled softly to himself. 

He cleared his throat before speaking, “I told you I don’t know what I want for Christmas. Hell, I told you that I didn’t know what I wanted for my birthday and that was back in September. The truth is I’ve known what I’ve actually wanted the whole time. The hat trick was nice and all, but it wasn’t really what I wanted.”

“Whatever it is, you could’ve told me,” you chided him a little. 

Your words were met with an anxious smile and more shuffling of his feet across the floor. He shook his head softly and let out a tight breath before continuing. 

“The only thing I want for Christmas is something you can give me, but you can get it for me,” he told you softly, his voice shaking as he spoke, the nerves in his eyes and his feet and his hands tightening and constricting his voice resonating in his chest. 

Nate slowly pulled a hand out of his pocket before purposefully, and painstakingly slowly, dropping down on one knee in front of you. Your hands flew over your mouth on instinct and your eyes clouded over instantly. Nate smiled softly at your reaction, trying desperately not to let what he hoped your actions meant take over and make him too hopeful of your answer to his question to prevent him from asking it. He carefully opened the small black box in his hand to show you your early Christmas present, a beautiful ring nestled among the black velvet inside. 

“For Christmas, I’d like for you to say you’ll be my wife,” he continued slowly and as steadily as he could. “The thing I’m most proud of, of everything I’ve ever done, is being your partner. I love you so much more than I say, but I hope I show it enough that you want to sign up for me forever because it’s just you. It’s just you forever, for every single day, every single holiday, every single moment. I want to spend every single Christmas for the rest of my life with you. So, what do you say? Will you be my wife? Will you make my Christmas wish come true?” 

The cliches hung thick in his words, but the emotions behind them, the sentiment was so true you could feel it in the very core of who you were. Nathan MacKinnon saw you, faults and gifts and everything in between and loved you in the steadiest, most true way you had ever known. In the light of the Christmas tree, in the home you built together, with the life you build together palatable around you, Nate was asking you to build the rest of it together. You didn’t have to think about your answer. 

“Yes, Nate. Yes, I’ll marry you.” 

Nerves gave way to relief which even more quickly gave way to joy on Nate’s face as he slowly slid the ring he’d had tucked in the back drawer for months onto your finger where it belonged. Nate let out a long breath at the sight of it finally on your hand before slowly standing up in front of you, his hands reaching out to cup your face gingerly. 

“Best early Christmas present ever,” you told him with a wide smile on your face. 

He smiled back just as widely and happily as you grinned at him, “Merry Christmas, my future wife.”