#I waffled on whether or not to post this so soon and said fuck it whatever time isn't real and it doesn't matter at the end of the day

[lots-o-doodles]

An homage to the final arc of Trigun Maximum

[lwt28brave]

LT2 masterpost

If it was up to me, we would get an autumn or winter EP. Since it’s not up to me at all, here, enjoy this post with everything we know so far of LT2, which is to say, not much at all. Everything here is hypothetical. I’ll be updating every time I see something relevant. A little disclaimer that while this is a masterpost (kinda), it could be read as discourse (duh, it’s also a theory), AND it’s also by me, and you shouldn’t expect me to be serious at this point.

Due to me restraining myself, there’s no reference to any of the times he’s mentioned his guitar skills and him improving but I hope you know I cried every single time.

I’m also linking my old pinned here. It was written before AFHF and around the free merch thing that didn’t lead to much, but I still think I made some good points.

Possible tracks:

Copy of a Copy of a Copy

Change

Faith in the future??

369??

Possible names:

369

Faith in the future

When is the album coming out?

Your guess is as good as mine

Friday 28th of January 2022. Almost two years after Walls. It’s a Friday. It’s a 28th. What else can I say?

Here you can find @want-to-be-loved timelines for every month.

Here you can find @berlinini’s timeline of what Louis has been up to this year (2021).

The rest is under the cut. And here you can find a PDF version where Tumblr can't tell me how many pictures I can add.

2020

He said back on May 2th 2020 he wasn’t writing anything new yet.

(x)(x)(x)

Interestingly enough, he’s said many times after that that the album’s not ready cause he has no new experiences to drawn from. I won’t call him out because he does it himself.

May 4th. He liked a tweet from DMA’s Johnny Took saying they had to go write together again. Louis has been credited as an influence for them and (kind of) participated in their previous record, so I’m assuming he meant for their music and not his, but you never know.

Nothing(literally nothing??? how did we survive) until 11th of July. We all know what happened that day. We all celebrated it. Nonetheless, that’s not what I’m talking about here.

(x) So, by the beginning of July 2020 he was working on concepts and ideas for the new album. That was fifteen months ago. I know perfection takes time but…

Brief summary of important things that happened from then until the next mention of new music:

Louis left Syco!!!! 10 days later he rescheduled the tour for the first time. He followed Matt Vines on Twitter, probably so we could publicly shame him into doing something. Also, the 10thanniversary. He followed more people I wish he hadn’t.

Then more nothing until September. Not even a single tweet. The first merch drop was on the 28th of August but he just RT’ed the tweet. He first mentioned Free my Meal on the 25th of September. Then on October 1st Walls hit #1 on a lot of countries and Louis was incredibly happy and excited about it ^^

And then, that same day, October 1st, 2020, he dropped this bomb:

(x)

He also said it was too soon to be sharing new lyrics with us (x)

And, obviously, this tweet which is actually what made me start this whole post. I would hope you know mate.

(x)

He also told us he was cooking "banger after banger" and that he was incorporating more social themes into his music (x)(x) (I believe any social issue is a political issue but that’s not the point rn).

COPY OF A COPY OF A COPY?!?!

These next paragraphs are brought to you by my mind not remembering things and me not having any links. I’m assuming COACOAC came from those writing sessions that supposedly happened in October. Or in LA but I have no idea if he actually was in LA at any point other than a Daily Mail article putting him there on December which would have been too late, but I do remember that someone said he was in the studio in LA last autumn???? A rumor. Maybe. IDK. Did I mention already all of this is very hypothetical?? Well, this is it. I can’t even remember if this was October or November or what. So, take this with a grain of salt.

I’m also… taking the liberty to assume, if you must, that Copy wasn’t meant to be a Walls reject because it sounds more mature and darker and it has a vastly different tone that Walls songs. I know he’s said that song probably isn’t getting into the album, but I want to have faith (in the future) that I’m getting a studio version. (But also, Louis, if you’re reading this, first of all GET OUT OF MY BLOG second of all, please don’t ever feel pressured again to add a song to the album because we have already heard it before. It’s your art and it should always be under your own terms).

So yeah, I believe that Copy is either one of those four songs (then imagine the other three??!!) or was written around the 1st of October date.

---End of the Intermission---

Then not much important (other than sharing more about Marcus Rashford fight against food poverty and the 2nd merch drop) until he announced the livestream on the 24th of November. (x)

It wasn’t until a few days before the livestream date we even thought again about new music (jk, I know we’re always thinking about new Louis’ music). So, December 9th/10th, 2020. Nine months ago. We got our first taste of new music!

He made sure we knew Copy of a Copy of a Copy isn't a cover! (x) (x)

(x)

Ok, so that’s it for 2020. (I feel like I’m missing something from September 17th because tweet was deleted but maybe he was still talking about cucumbers. We might never know. Unless I understand how Tumblr tags work). Expected, cause Walls was released in 2020. We needed to let it sit for a while.

2021

Another Summary: Louis third tweet of the year was telling the UK government off. So was the fifth. What a good beginning. On the 26th of January, he said he prefers pancakes over waffles. I hope he meant pancakes other than his own. More importantly, he tweeted the infamous “you lot read into things too much”. Don’t get me started, Tomlinson. Don’t. Then the 31st came around and Walls was one. He tweeted this. How wise. And Project Defenceless happened!!

15th of February!! Who cares about Valentine Day when the next day we got this? ♥

(x)

(x)

So…AN EP?? AN EP?? PLEASE RELEASE AN EP.

“I’m sure I will have something out this year but unlikely that will be the album”. Unlikely but not impossible. Also. A single would be good. This is the second time he mentions releasing something in 2021 and he sounds surer about it than the first time around.

He also said that he isn’t sure we will get a studio version of Copy. And that the best bridges from Walls to LT2 are Walls, OTB, KMM and Copy. Can’t wait!

Then we jump to March 6th when he announced he was going to create his own management company. “Sometimes action is needed first to encourage the motivation and belief”. As we can tell he was already manifesting some stuff which will lead us to the numerology stuff/Tesla… kidding. Or not. We might never know.

On the 22nd of March he answered some questions:

He told us music was still his main focus ♥ mwha. (x) I included this tweet to guilt-trip him into giving us music in case he’s reading this even after I told him to leave. ILY.

(x) I’d love to get a visual EP this autumn. Just saying. It sounds like a lovely concept.

(x)

…next (I will get into it, I promise. I’m just mad).

On the 25th he left for Mexico until April 10th. You could assume it was just for the documentary where we got ten seconds of footage or admit the obvious: LT2 its a Mexican baby!!

On the 26th (so, not so far apart from that first 369) we got the first Faith in the Future mention: (x)

Back then we were innocent people who had no idea what was coming upon us. We still have no idea because what the fuck does he mean with these. Please explain. I have one braincell and I don’t use it enough for this. I’m linking some theories.

On the 30th of March he confirmed he was already working on the documentary. So AFHF was already on the works. Will it take this long for us to get the Veeps numbers? We also got this tweet: "Got a decent chorus idea down" (x).

Same person that got the “something out this year” exclusive. If you know something share with the class. Also. Is this Change? I feel like this could be Change but I also assume he wrote Change after hanging out with his friends or being in Doncaster. But who knows.

(x) And the second mention to 369.

(x) 15th of April. The second "Faith in the future".

On the 19th of April he announced that he had something BIG for us later on the year which turned out to be the Away From Home Festival ♥♥ (x) I love him so much.

Then on the 28th he announced the 369 merch drop (which it’s probably the Walls drop? Except that the TOU and KMM ones were “drop 1 and drop 2” and this was drop 369 which, again, makes no sense) but we still don’t know what 369 means.

Into May’ 21 we go.

He rescheduled tour again. And dropped another bomb (x).

He announced he has signed with BMG as an independent artist by RTing this tweet on May 10th. The article also says that he’s already working on writing and recording LT2. The timing… we don’t know. What this deal involves… we don’t know either. Bear with me here because I have a lot to say about this.

I think the deal is only a distribution one, but that BMG are interested in Louis and what he (us) could bring to the table. They were either present at the festival or watching it, but officially they had no involvement at all with it (everything is credited either to Louis own company, 78 Productions, or Charlie Lightening’s company). That’s the case for both giveaways too; the vinyl one and the tickets for the festival.

I think it would be an unbelievably bad move not to test the waters with BMG now or soon-ish. At least a single, to see how it performs. Due to the circumstances, it’s obvious there’re certain limitations on place but I want to see how they push it, whether the radio play exist this time around and if the song is playlisted and promoted and all that… I would also love to know, since it says he signed with BMG UK, but it also states it’s a global deal, how things are going to go on the US and other countries.

Yes, yes. I know those are all questions and no answers. But I know the same as you, sadly. If any of you know more than you’re letting on… again, share with the class.

Where was I? Yes, on the 25th of May Louis had a great day writing (x). Since the first time he had mentioned he was officially writing to this date there’s almost eight months. And I believe he was writing before October’ 20.

He followed Robert Harvey that day and, on the 28th of May (why is it always the 28th???) he was spotted at the studio for the first time.

June was an interesting month for the fandom ♥. Lots of LHL content which I will love and cherish for the rest of times. On June 4th, June 9th, and June 10th he was spotted at the studio, but I believe he was there more days.

(x)

This was posted on June 6th and captioned Studio. Charlie also shared it with “Mega tunes being put down, can’t wait for this @louist91 #louistomlinson #LT2” as the caption. This gives me 2019 (Elton-Joint) vibes. I like it. Feels like we’re getting closer to something.

He added the Milano date on the 9th too which I’m mentioning because I’m going alone. Anyone wanna go with me please? I’m nice and I never eat anything before a concert so you can have my food. On other news. It didn’t come home.

During July he was at the studio at least three days too. Probably more. Feels like more with all the fan pictures we got. Or was that June? Anyway, July 1st and 9th we got some videos from Robert Harvey and wearesuperhi, which is who Louis has been working with the most, that we know of. I don’t know for sure they’re from that day. And on July 5th we got an article and lots of pictures of Louis looking really good outside the studio.

On the 12th of July the first fans started getting the free, 369 bucket hat and print. We still don’t know what the purpose was other than to thanks fans. Maybe that was it. I want answers and I still think it relates to a future project (see theories above), but it could also just be a bridge with the Walls breaking.

He didn’t tweet about anything interesting for a while, mostly because he lost his phone (he either throwed it in the air or smashed it who knows). Then on the 29th of July he announced the festival!

I’m glossing over it because there’s already been a lot of talk about it (rightfully) and while it was a wonderful thing, it doesn’t have much to do with LT2.

Let’s talk Change!

On August 3rd he tweeted this about the setlist.

(x)

And this (x) on the 28th! I can’t stand him.

We didn’t get it, obviously. Because who was going to get that. But we read too much into things. Alright.

On the 16thof August Dave Gibson shared this post tagged #LT2 with the eyes emojis 👀👀👀. I believe this has to do both with Change but also with whatever else came out of that Mexico trip.

(x) Last relevant tweet related to LT2 is this one.

So, on the 30th of August we got Change and we cried, and we know that Change is going in the new album. He said it. With those exact words. He also said he was “getting a feeling for it”. This has to meant he already has a general idea of the vibe of the new album and what’s going in it!!!!!! (Right? RIGHT?).

Anyway, let’s go back a few weeks because some other things happened on August. He was at the studio a few more times. Or it was suggested that he was there. On the 17th and the 18th. (Why was it so time-pressing to be at the studio instead of rehearsing for the festival? There was no studio at all on the documentary. Which makes sense, but again, then why?).

On the day of the festival we got another mention of Faith in The Future that made me feel part of a cult ngl. The words were flashing on the screen for less than a second. Okay.

And then he tweeted those words again after watching the livestream/documentary on the 4th of September (x). This is what makes me suspect it's either the name of the album or of the single.

On the same day, we got some interesting quotes about LT2 on the documentary.

“Soon I’ll have to think about me second album, which in my head I’ll get the tour out of the way and then I’ll address that. So, I hadn’t really given it much thought, to be honest”.

“When every day is the same is hard to feel creative and it’s hard to have any kind of proper inspiration”.

“As season started to come back, I started writing again and it was great and some of these songs turned out alright”.

And I think this is it. I might be overlooking some important details but that’s what we know and what we don’t know.

So. Conclusions. That’s what you missed on Glee. I do believe the album is, if not mostly done, partially there. And yes, this post is pointless and never-ending but it’s all in here if you need to tell Louis “Hey, you said this, mate”.

[nighttimepixels]

TALK TO US ABOUT MASS EFFECT I HAVE BEEN AN INSANE MASS EFFECT/SHAKARIAN TRASH PERSON SINCE 20-FUCKING-11 AND LEMME TELL YOU THOSE FEELINGS HAVENOT TARNISHED A SINGLE FRACTION IN THOSE TEN YEARS OH MY GOOOOOOODDDSSSS!!!!!!!

I DEMAND A PLAY-BY-PLAY UP TO THE MINUTE OF YOUR REACTIONS TO EVERYTHING!!!!

you are so valid and I totally see why everyone I've ever mentioned it to loves the hell out of it

aksdjlsdfj I meannnn if you want to hear my rambling about it then hell yeah

Okay, gonna put this below the cut to save everyone else XD also- since I'm not leaving this Mass Effect obsession anytime soon, if you're not interested in seeing occasional posts about it, please feel free to block the tag "night plays ME"~

(mild spoilers ahead??)

((also for real I mean it when I say this is rambling as hell lol, apologies and no stress if absolute no one reads all this))

OKAY SO Mass Effect 1-

Stars help me, I was honestly hooked right from the start?? Like even in Legendary Edition (the combined trilogy just re-released in one "can play it on one system + minor improvements", for anyone who doesn't know) where it's smoothed out, of course it's obvious that ME1 is a decade old... but the foundation for these relationships are all there and gods I love them already.

Like - Kaiden right off the top is a delightful good fightin lad, what the hell. I've heard that he's viewed as 'bland' by a good portion of the fan community but I dunno, he's a delight and even more complex by the time 2 rolls around and you encounter him on Horizon, it was honestly Ashley I was way more meh about - mostly because before you can learn about her family history/etc, she comes off as hella xenophobic and I was immediately offended for my growing space family that she didn't like/trust all the aliens around, pfff.

(she gets redeemed a bit through further actions/evolving thoughts, but I thought in retrospect it was a bummer that they didn't flip the order there, give her a chance to be liked before the complicating factor of being so rude about aliens >:c that then she could grow from... ah well. Apparently she has a good arc but uh, let's just say I chose Kaiden at the "key junction" in the latter part of the game so I won't be seeing anymore of Ashley uh... anytime soon, haha.)

Garrus??? Is??????? The ABSOLUTE best???????????

I liked him from the start, I'm always a bit of a sucker for a rogue-detective "the system won't bring this bastard to justice, so I've got to" type and all their moral shadiness XD But he just gets better, honestly, and where I'm at in ME2 (right before the Reaper IFF mission, as of typing this, with everyone's loyalty!) I am only digging myself deeper into this hole-

-*wheezing* okay anyways -

Wrex is AMAZING I love fightin' middle-aged krogan bastard, gods. Liara is great too, I'm a sucker for a wlw relationship (playing fem!Shepard, so) - buuuut I'll admit she's a bit more one-note in ME1. Last week while I was still on ME1 I remember hearing (while trying to dodge spoilers) that her arc is really good, though. I think they leaned a little hard on the 'innocent but sexy' sterteotype on her (so despite the yikes aspect of a few of the things I've learned in ME2, lol, I actually really like the complexity that's been added to her character.)

Saved Liara first, so by the time I got to Noveria and had the standoff with Benezia there was the chance to have emotions over Liara having to face her TwT and of course, I made the questionable but quality decision to free Queen Rachni heheh. no ragrets

More than a blow-by-blow of my choices though I totally wanna take the chance to say that even in the mild jankiness of ME1 (goddammit, the Mako.... please..... please just go up this impossible cliff I just want to resource hunt-) the way that the lore, both obvious/key to main plot and the lesser/filler/background/world-building kinds... I just love it. It incorporates it well, you can go ham in the codex learning more, or just dive into the basics - it's clearly a complex galaxy (and they do an even better job in 2 of fleshing it out further), and it never really felt overwhelming. It was pretty natural figuring it all out-!

Plus the interesting implications of resource hunting amongst the sapient races, and the little side missions you better bet I did every one of- there's so much rich depth in the story if you do 'em!! (And that lead with that Keeper side mission...? Looking back, damn, clever foreshadowing-!!!)

And oh my gods, Ilios??? hell yeah. I loved that mission so much, especially having Garrus & Kaiden with me when talking to the hologram/computer, and more than anything, that last sprint in the Mako trying to get to the jump before it closed-???

yeet the boi-

Also mannn I love a good setpiece, and having to go up the side of the elevator, space-side?? such a cool setup!!

Plus it felt good having been Paragon enough (as simple as the good v bad vibe system is, I don't hate it, lol) to avoid one of the Saren fights, ngl. And the er, "second fight" with Sovereign-Saren.... hell yeah

... I'll admit I had to double check my choice re whether to save the Council. I did in the end, but I swear, sometimes the way they phrase things I'm like ".... okay but Garrus is right, defeating Sovereign is more important than these few leaders??????" woops. Listen, priorities, is all I'm saying..... (￣ヮ￣|||)ゞ

'Course later they emphasize (in ME2) that there were 10,000 people on that same ship and I was like well I wouldn't have second guessed if I'd known that, I mean c'mon-

Also I did indeed romance Liara in this one, so I got that scene ;Dc But,,,, I also knew by the end that I was totally gonna romance Garrus in 2 since he's an option then finally,,,,, lemme tell you the guilt as I waffled over whether to romance Liara bc of it. hahaha.

Aaaaand Mass Effect 2-

So I'm only up to right before the Reaper IFF Mission, so I don't know the ending, etc etc lol. That said, I've just finished every side mission I've found with the exception of the Shadowbroker Quest and the Arrival Quest (I've heard the latter basically leads into ME3, and the former is best either right before the Omega 4 jump or in postgame).

So from the start - fuck yeah fuck yeah what a high adrenaline start Shepard noooooo but also yes save Joker aH-

The motion comic too hot damn nice job

I loved this setup, seriously - especially forcing Shep into this situation, having to work with/for Cerberus, and the compelling reasoning given behind "why" they do what they do (I especially found it a good point that the Salarians have the Task Force, the Asaris the Commandos, the Turians the- etc... like, true, when you put it like that, having a similar group advancing human interests/solving human interstellar problems is pretty reasonable...). That said, I love too that it really isn't shied away from how Cerberus is nonetheless fucked up - or its at least done fucked up stuff.

Listen, I still think some messed up stuff is gonna be revealed in 2's endgame......... after that Horizon mission and the Collector's ship???? TIM I SEE YOU YOU SHADY MF-

aaanyways lol...

I'm so so glad on a gameplay level they nixed the Mako style exploration. A few Hammerhead missions are fine and a lot more focused than the slippery ass navigation in that glorified ATV, pfff. The probes are a neat way of getting after similar resources - and more importantly, having good levels and some good hubs (the Zakera Wards, Omega, Ilium, etc) is way way more fun than having a more 'sprawling' space that is.... a lot of empty nonsense, lol.

Then there's the fact that we get Joker right off the bat and you can interact with him so much - and him and EDI??? Get out gods I love them. Kasumi is so right when she says they sound like a bickering old married couple lol. I have a terrible feeling that some shit is gonna happen with EDI..... but I don't think she's evil as-is, at least.

Side-eying the hell out of those "access forbidden" parts of her that she doesn't even know.... and the fact that her AI core has a locked door access................... something's gonna happen gdi LEAVE OUR ADOPTED AI ALONE.

(Also Joker pls stop fracturing your thumb on the mute button)

Also please save me there are so many hot aliens in this game,,,,, the xeno/monsterfuckers really comin' through strong in the sequels............... doin' the lord's work........................................

In general, I love how many levels ME stepped up in two with complexity and interwoven narratives!! Like, to the point it'd be almost a drag to replay ME1, even though it was fun going through it (if occasionally a bit tedious with the cookie cutter rando planet science/mine facilities, lol). Like, just from how fun and interesting ME2 is, mostly! more of all the pre-introduced races, plus new ones, plus more filling in of intragalactic politics, and more interesting implications of all these space-faring races mixing....

Also gods WREX and his planet holy shit,,,,, fuckin' hell yeah my man get their shit together and also adopt Grunt yes good-

And Mordin??? My singing semi-evil scientist best friend forced to confront his choices more than he thought he ever would have???? With some of the best ongoing general report chatter of all the companions??

(when I tell you I choked on my coffee when I talked to him after confirming romance choice w/ Garrus and that 'pamphlet' and 'anaphalactic shot if ingesting-' kajsldkfjsldfjk)

Like, fuck, the fact that they actually dive into the mixed morality and horrors of the genophage, and you can confront Mordin on it, for good reason, yet he still stands his ground, until finally some bits of his loyalty mission seem to... affect him, and I'm guessing might set up things for 3 with him? Unsure, but either way, damn, the fact that they start to dig into it...

And Taliiiii my beloved forbidden alien wife TwT her loyalty mission was SO GOOD. I love how varied they all are?? Getting to defend her and discover what she'd unwittingly been a part of-!!

Zaeed is a bastard but tbh I love that he is and that he's unapologetic in him - and Kasumi omg, best thief. A heist?? Gods, yes- I love our couch lounge chats XD

Samara is..... illegally.......... she's an illegally powerful and beautiful and eloquent MILF...........................

(.... listen I'm sapphic as hell and I'm kicking my own ass for picking her up last aksjdlfksjdfl - but her loyalty mission, damn. And seeing how there's this interesting cultural subset, and the struggle with the Asari in that they unquestioningly accept/respect justicars, but also know that the impact outside their culture is a diplomacy nightmare waiting to happen-)

,.,,,,,T,,, Thane,,,,,

I am weak for morally implicated murder dads okay?? And that voice??? His mannerisms?????? How you first see him, and that prayer after assassinating her...???????? And his history/his people's history with the hanar, gods I love how messy it is, it feels so much more real!

Also Jack is a mess and I love her (and want to get her some therapy, omg), and her and Miranda nearly duking it out after you've done both their loyalty missions??? so good and makes a lot of sense-! Honestly I would love more interactions between teammates on the ship, but there's already so much the devs had to balance I can't blame 'em for minimizing, heh. But suffice to say I also love Miranda and Jacob, even if I'm softest for my alien crew XD Hell yeah Jacob, we'll get loud and spill drinks on the citadel indeed TwT

.... I could write a whole essay on how much I love Garrus oTL Perhaps because he and Tali are the throughlines from 1 on your 2 crew, I have some of the strongest feelings about them... but genuinely, he was one of my favorite companions in the first game, and how you find him as Archangel in two? Getting to help him fight his way out after he's gone nearly 48 hours straight fighting off three gangs alone, jfc. His vengeance quest and what can happen there.... That line? fuck me, that line -

It's so much easier to see the world in black and white. Grey? I don't know what to do with gray...

How DARE you come for my heart like this, devs holy shit

(also, some other choice faves so far from the series from him include We can disobey suicidal orders?? and This wasn't in my training manual... [in 1, if you have him with you @ th Thorian fight] and his whole.... pop the heat sink - in his romance ;Dc)

asdasdfksadjfkl like I said I can write an essay on him PFFF suffice to say I'm very looking forward to his romance scene and where things go in 3

But yeah gods I'm just gonna keep rambling if I'm not careful lol. Gods I don't even know what to talk about it's all so good and while I can understand people roasting the obviousness of Paragon V Renegade (v neutral) choices/alignments, I think they do a pretty damn good job in 2 of pushing it further - to the point that there were some times that I accidentally got renegade points and I wasn't that mad, haha. There's so much fun in the interactions that I just have a good time anyways~

I have so many thoughts about TIM (The Illusive Man) and Cerberus.... theories evolving galore............... and like, what the hell!! Omega 4 going to the center of the galaxy is such a cool twist, goddamn - though my heart still breaks at losing Kaiden (his line if you haven't romanced him?? about feeling like he lost a limb when he lost you??? holy shit.... but I also can't blame him for not trusting Cerberus to the point of it affecting his ability to trust Shepard... like fuck Shep go after himmmm) I'm really excited to see where that goes since he comes back in 3, and what the fuck happens with Cerberus bc while I love the fact that obviously there are a lot of people in it for the right reasons, doing good work, there are those that are doing the opposite, and I have a very bad feeling about where TIM will end up landing....

All that said though I need to do the Reaper IFF mission (where I'm lightly spoiled as to getting That Boy, but not how/what happens to make it so - just that it's apparently wise to have all your side missions done before getting him...) and the actual Omega 4 jump. So we'll see what happens and what I think about it from there heheh!

.... major kudos and genuine props if you made it here to the end, I am so sorry for not editing on condensing all this, and appreciate you so much ;w;

[sonnetthebard]

Sypaul getting ice cream?

You know that SAF Horror Movie post that was supposed to be headcanons and I wrote it into a oneshot instead? Yeah, I'm back at it. Look, there's nothing I love more than those two wholesome gay werewolves. Genre: Fluff/ Romance Words: 2054 TL;DR: Paul and Sybilus go out to get ice cream? Is it a date? Not officially. Could it be? Very possibly. TW: There's literally none. It's all wholesome. It’s just a lot of gay panic.  ________________________________________________________

Paul sighed, walking down the streets aimlessly. He was back in Connor Creek, just for a visit. He liked to visit as often as he could- especially around the full moon. It made things a *lot* easier on him. Because even if he hadn't gone full werewolf yet, he did still experience a lot of the struggles that came around that time of month. It was good to be around other wolves- especially Desmond. And of course with the silver reserves, most of the less-than-ideal urges that came up that time of month were kept at bay. The full moon happened to be in two days, so... here he was again.

He wasn't quite sure where he was going. He was just walking, a bit bored. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he pivoted... so quickly that he fell flat on his ass. Smooth, Paul. Even worse: It was Sybilus. Sybilus, the one person he didn't want to see anything like him flat on his ass. Paul had developped feelings for Syb. He had always though Syb was cool, but... he'd started to catch himself daydreaming. He was good looking, sweet, smart, and... god, he had the coolest name! Paul hadn't meant to fall so hard, but... damn. Both men blushed at the situation they found themselves in. Paul felt bad, reacting like that. He was a bit jumpy... especially with the full moon so soon. Sybilus offered him a hand gently, and Paul took it, standing up.

"T-terribly sorry to have startled you." Sybilus blushed. "I, um..."

"Nah, my bad." Paul chuckled softly. "I'm just jumpy."

"I only meant to say hello... and ask you if you had any t-time- ah! P-p-plans?" Sybilus bit his lip nervously.

"Well... hello." Paul smirked. "And no I don't. Why?"

"I-I was thinking p-p-perhaps we could go into town." Sybilus proposed. "Not this town... the r-real city. M-m-maybe get something to eat?"

"Oh... I actually just had lunch at the Dead Canary." Paul told him. Shit. What was he doing? He actually wanted to go out with Syb.

"We could get ice cream, then. For d-dessert." Sybilus offered.

"Oh yeah! I would be so down for that!" Paul grinned.

"I only say we go into town b-b-because... I-I was going to suggest ice cream anyways. W-w-we don't have a-any real i-i-icecream places here." Sybilus sighed, walking with Paul. They now knew where they were going. To his car. "I-I would start one myself, but I'm rather busy with my other work."

"Maybe I should move here and start one." Paul thought aloud.

"Oh, Paul... y-you've got a very important job." Sybilus shook his head. "We need people like you t-t-to keep sharing the important news with the world."

"Oh yeah, but... I could podcast from up here. Drive into the city to record when I need to..." Paul theorized.

"Well... if you wanted, we could live together." Sybilus offered. "I-I mean you could live a-at my house. You're welcome."

"You know, I'm genuinely considering this." Paul chuckled, climbing into the car. "This could be fun. And it makes sense for me to be here, right? Why just... keep visiting for full moons?"

"You make a v-v-valid point..." Sybilus considered.

"Are you actually cool with me crashing with you?" Paul checked. "Because like... it makes sense, with the two of us being wolves."

"O-of course." Sybilus assured him, starting the car. "And you're right."

"Well that settles it. I'm moving to Connor Creek, running an ice cream shop, and working on my podcast from here." Paul decided.

"M-maybe you should think it over a little bit m-m-more." Sybilus chuckled, driving down the road.

"Yeah, you're right." Paul chuckled nervously.

There was silence in the car for a bit. Neither Paul nor Sybilus knew what to say. Paul had honestly just kept talking about the ice cream shop because he didn't know where to stop. It was awkward, but not tense. Overwhelmingly, if either one had been paying attention, they would have noticed the romantic tension. Both were very evidently interested in each other. But they weren't even able to look at each other with nerves. Paul tapped his fingers nervously. God, now he’d committed to *living* with Syb. He was so nervous that he couldn’t look at the guy but apparently he was going to live with him now. God, he was an idiot. Paul rested his head on his hand, looking out the window. 

“So... have you any idea w-what season three of Wayward G-guide is going to look like?” Sybilus asked. 

“No clue. Lesly hasn’t even told Artie and I that we get to do it yet.” Paul chuckled. “Who knows who it’ll go to.”

“Oh.” Sybilus frowned. “But you and Artemis did so well with it!”

“Yeah. Lesly’s weird like that.” Paul sighed. “Last I heard he’s looking for siamese twins. Who are also podcast hosts.”

“Have y-you considered podcasting independently?” Sybilus suggested. 

“I mean... kinda.” Paul shrugged. “But like... I don’t know. There’s something about Wayward Guide specifically that I just... I loved it.”

“Do you know what in specific that s-s-something might have been?” Sybilus tried to help. 

“I... not really.” Paul admitted

“Could it have been the s-story you were t-t-t-telling and not the actual podcast itself?” Sybilus pointed out. 

“You know... you could be right.” Paul realized. 

“Well... m-m-maybe you could do a podcast on the h-history or Connor Creek while you’re here. S-s-set up a little studio. My office is always rather quuiet, so you could use that.” Sybilus suggested. “M-maybe you could do a podcast on p-paranormal and s-s-supernatural histories throughout our country!”

“You know, that would be really cool.” Paul agreed. “I’ll talk to Artie about it. You know, since... we’re a pair.”

“Oh, of course!” Sybilus nodded. 

“Yeah...” Paul bit his lip. He looked to his feet. “Hey, Syb, can I ask you a kinda weird question?”

“Of course.” Sybilus assured him. 

“Is there anyone in Connor Creek who’s LGBTQ+ other than Donny?” Paul asked. Oh god. What was he doing? Where was he going with that question. How was he going to play that off? He got an idea. “I mean... just in case APN wants to use that kind of information to celebrate during Pride month.”

“Well... let’s see...” Sybilus thought aloud. “I believe that C-Crispin and Odie Doty were seeing each other before Odie’s unf-fortunate demise. Madison once brought a girlfriend to town council. They’d met at a ‘S-Small Town Law Enforcement Summit’. I always wondered what happened t-to that girlfirend- she was l-l-lovely. And, erm... I’m gay.”

“You are?” Paul started to beam. He caught himself too late, a blushing mess. Goddamnit he was giving himself away!

“Erm... yes.” Sybilus blushed. “I-I’ve never technically come out... no one really d-does in Connor Creek. You just sort of show up with a p-p-partner or two and everyone knows.”

“Huh.” Paul hummed. “I’m bi.”

“Oh.” Sybilus nodded. Paul nearly groaned at what he’d just said. He was real smooth, wasn’t he? Both drove in silence again for a moment. Sybilus pulled into a driveway. “We’re here! T-this is the ice cream shop.”

“So I can get the scoop on my competition.” Paul smirked. 

Internally, he was killing himself. Why was literally everything he was doing and saying to this man today the cringiest, most embarassing stuff in his playbook? Seriously. As far as impressions went... he was not making a good one, and he was sure of it. Well at least Sybilus was gay. He had half of a chance. Maybe if he could just calm the fuck down (or whatever it was he needed to do to stop acting like a total dumabss) he could talk Sybilus into getting dinner with him sometime... or maybe he would somehow manage to drive Syb away after he had made the first move. Paul froze. Oh god. Syb had made the first move.

“Are you okay?” Sybilus checked, already out of the car. 

“Hm? Oh, yeah!” Paul blushed, getting out. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be s-sorry.” Sybilus chuckled. “I get lost in my head sometimes too.”

“Right...” Paul sighed, walking into the ice cream shop with him. Even though it was a hot day, it was just the two of them and the teenage girl behind the counter. Sybilus walked up to the counter ahead of him, knowing how things worked there. 

“H-hello... I was h-hoping- ah! liking- ah! I-I would like two d-double scoop waffle cones please.” Sybilus stammered out. 

“Sure thing.” The perky sales attendant smiled knowingly. “What are the flavours on those scoops?”

“Y-you go first.” Sybilus blushed, looking at his feet. 

“Um... I’ll take one scoop rocky road, one scoop chocolate chip cookie dough.” Paul told her. 

She got to work scooping that. And that’s when Paul found himself doing somethign far too quickly to stop himself: he patted Sybilus’ back to comfort him. He could see how distressed the werewolf was, and... he felt bad. He shouldn’t have to be ashamed of his impediment. Both men blushed, looking to the floor. The tension was high. Paul was frozen, unsure of whether to own his actions or... retreat as fast as was humanly possible. But... he decided to own it, going further and rubbing his friend’s back. Sybilus was blushing even harder. Oh god. Had that been too much. He thought so until... a small smile creeped onto the werewolf’s face. Paul smiled back softly. What in the actual hell was going on with those two?

“Alright, here you go hon.” The attendant smirked, passing an ice cream to Paul. She turned to Sybilus. “What about you, sweetie?”

“One b-birthday cake and one cotton candy.” Sybilus told her. She scooped those two fairly easily. 

“Those ones are always so soft.” She told him, still smiling brightly. She handed him the cone. “Here you go.”

“H-how much d-do I owe you?” Sybilus asked, reaching into his pocket. 

“Those are on the house guys. Happy Pride.” The ice cream scooper winked. 

Both Sybilus and Paul blushed, looking at each other. They seemed to be silently asking each other if they let the girl do that for them. Paul shrugged as if to say ‘why no?’, and they both looked back to her. Paul smiled softly. 

“Thank you.” He sighed, taking Sybilus’ hand and walking back outside the shop. There was a little table out there, and he sat them down at that. 

“Well...” Sybilus chuckled nervoulsy. 

“Yeah.” Paul blushed, chuckling with him. 

“I suppose it would be appropriate to wish you a happy pride...” Sybilus smiled shyly at Paul. “I-I... suppose we’d make a handsome couple- o-or at least she thought so.”

“I mean, she’s not wrong...” Paul shrugged, before freezing. Him and Sybilus just stared at each other for a second, and Paul immediately felt guilty. “I am so sorry if that made you uncomfortable, it just-”

“I agree.” Sybilus cut him off. Both just stared at each other, a look of mutual realization hit them. 

“So, um... maybe she wasn’t so wrong then.” Paul tested. “Thinking we were a couple...”

“M-maybe she wasn’t.” Sybilus sighed. There was a pause. 

“So... is this a date?” Paul checked. 

“I-if you would like it to be.” Sybilus bit his lip. 

“Yeah... I think that would be great.” Paul smiled softly. 

“I-I know of a walking trail nearby i-if you would like to go- ah! W-walk for a bit.” Sybilus offered. 

“I’d love that.” Paul beamed. 

And so the two men got up and started down the road, still eating their ice creams as they went along. Paul hesitantly reached out and grabbed Sybilus’ hand, squeezing it. Sybilus blushed, looking over and him ans smiling softly, squeezing back. Paul supposed now that he had a boyfriend he’d probably have to come out to Artemis... if she didn’t already know. He was like 99% sure she was a lesbian though, so he should be fine. Twinsense... he supposed it made them both gay. He was pretty sure that he couldn’t be any happier than he was in that moment. And he was pretty sure Syb felt the same way. It must be the pride month magic, bringing them together- or maybe it was always meant to be this way. Who knows? Paul was just excited for the journey.

[audacityofhugefics]

Hysto journal #2

Long overdue for this, but as I’m sitting here watching this egregious, horrific stuff going down in Kyiv I thought, “Why not pull my mental real estate away from this and focus on something a little less rage-inducing.” And I do mean A LITTLE. The hysto is indeed ALSO causing me rage. But we’ll get to that.

First I guess I should talk a little bit about what all went down with the surgery. My dad went with me to the hospital. I love my dad more than I can ever really adequately express. I mentioned in my last post that I found my old journal and that I could see how my grief colored a lot of my personality, and my relationship with my dad is a really good reflection of that. I was an absolute monster to my dad after my mom died. He could never do anything right, as far as I was concerned. I thought of him as this old, bumbling idiot. With the wisdom of hindsight I can see that this was related to grief. I missed my mother. I wanted my mother, and he was not my mother. And that was a PROBLEM. So I lashed out. Irrationally, emotionally, and illogically. 

This was on my mind when we went to the hospital on the morning of my hysto, because he was taking a day off work to support me in my voluntary sterilization (even though I know he would LOVE biological grandkids), and is willing to help me with this whole phallo thing later in the year. So I apologized to him about how mean I was as a teenager, just in case I died on the operating table. He said that all his kids have been mean to him over the years, and he’s used to it, and he doesn’t hold it against us. But still, I’m real fuckin’ sorry about it. The dude is my fucking hero. I would never be so mean to him now.

But I digress. We arrived at the hospital and were very quickly separated so I could prep for surgery. They made me take a damn pregnancy test. LOL. As an ace forever alone asshole, that amused me. I’m not exactly sure how long it’s been since I’ve had sex with a biological male, but it’s definitely double digits. But protocol is protocol. I told the nurse, “Even if I am pregnant somehow, go ahead and take the uterus anyway.”

Next I had to get naked and cozied up on the stretcher after wiping off with some pre-surgical wipes. They put in my IV and, weirdly, gave me a whole bunch of drugs to swallow orally, including some narcotics. They said it was to help the pain when I woke up, which, like.... Sure. But the other effect was that I was completely blissed out by the time all these people involved with the surgery came by to meet the person they were cutting open. I was cracking jokes and making everyone laugh. They put that shower cap on me and I was like “Oh I think I saw this on Project Runway.”

I had been waffling back and forth on whether or not to keep one my ovaries. Taking both out essentially means that I have no risk for cancer or cysts down there, but I am committing to taking hormones for the rest of my life, because bad things happen when there are no hormones in the human body. I told the doc I wanted both out just so I’d never have to think about it again, and I do intend to continue with testosterone until I eventually die in a motorcycle crash. So who cares. But a part of me was like, “What if you get old?” But you know what? Fuck it. Taking them out will keep me accountable. And they have those nifty T pellets now, maybe in another five years those will be more readily available and I can get those put in for E-Z hormones. So when the doc came by before the surgery I said, “OK we’re good, get these things out of me.”

Anyway. I went under, they did the thing, and I woke up. I had a lot of nausea after I woke up, way more than I remember having after my top surgery in 2007, or when I had my wisdom teeth taken out, which are the only other times I’ve ever gone under general anesthesia. I didn’t have a lot of pain, I just felt nauseous and tired and bloated from the gas they inject so they can maneuver in your abdomen. But pretty much as soon as I woke up I was slurring jokes to the nurses, although sadly I cannot remember what I said. They had one nurse who watched you while you were still in that phase where you can’t quite stay awake, and then another who takes over when you can sit upright in a recliner. The sleepy-time nurse was sad to see me go, I could tell. I can’t even remember her damn name, but she was very kind and always seemed to be around whenever I needed something. 

The next nurse also loved me, although I think she was annoyed when I banished her from the bathroom when I tried to pee. I was like “I have trouble peeing under the best of circumstances.” Which is true. I’m not a good pee-er. Peeing is actually one of my main and only sources of gender dysphoria. I don’t like having to sit to pee. Unfortunately, peeing is like the entire focus of the recovery room after anesthesia, because they need to make sure you can do it before you can leave. I was able to get a few drops out, but then I started to REALLY feel like I needed to barf so I pulled the cord and they brought me back to the recliner. I had the barf tray in front of my mouth, that’s how close I was to barfing, but then the nurse waved this PEPPERMINT STICK thing in front of my NOSE and I NO LONGER HAD TO BARF. Has anyone else ever heard of this before??? It was a fucking miracle!! All urge to barf, gone immediately. I’m keeping some of those peppermint things in my bathroom from now on.

I should mention that by this point my dad had been sitting out in the waiting room for about 8 hours. Which is WAY longer than I thought we’d be there. It was all my fault, the nurses thought I was ready to go but I was so worried about not being able to pee. I was apologizing to my dad over text and to the nurses constantly, and they were all like “Dude literally shut up.” In a nice way of course, but still. Heartwarming.

This hospital where I had the hysto is working on getting a whole trans health program up and running, and I believe I was possibly the very first trans patient this OBGYN (who will be associated with the program) had done a hysto for. Eventually this facility will be doing other surgeries for trans patients too, like phalloplasty and vaginoplasty, which is rad. Unfortunately they won’t be offering the type of phallo I’m looking for (which is abdominal), but it’s nice to know there are doctors literally right down the road from me that are offering the other kinds (RFF and ALT) if I change my mind. All the nurses know that this is something that’s being set up for their hospital and they were very curious to hear about phallo in general. I ended up being the last patient in the unit for the night, so the nurse spent a long time chatting with me about it until I felt ready to go. She wheeled me downstairs, asked if she could give me a hug, and then my dad took me to his house.

I don’t live with my parents anymore but I stayed with them for the first few days. I was up and walking pretty much immediately. Really, I felt fine. The worst part was the gas, just like everyone says. It basically felt like I always needed to fart, but I could never, EVER fart. Farting would have involved strain, and strain hurt. Luckily that phase passed after a few days and basically as soon as I was pooping again, I was ready to go home. So my dad took me back to my apartment and I’ve been here ever since.

On the Friday after the surgery “Horizon: Forbidden West” came out, so I basically played that every waking moment. In case you’re curious, I liked it but I had some big issues with it. Where are the cubes on the minimap that point you to datapoints??? Why do I have to scroll through so many damn things to find my potions??? Where’s the whistle command??? But I loved the story a LOT. Overall, 7/10.

Now let’s talk about the infuriating part: The insurance is denying all my claims!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You have to understand, I work in medical insurance. I know how this works. I know how the game is played. I KNOW these services are covered. I KNOW the insurance company is making a mistake in my benefits administration. But it doesn’t make it any less stressful. I called them a few times trying to get a straight answer about why these things were being denied, finally I talked to a supervisor (who was also trans!) who confirmed that they are being denied because the diagnosis (F64.9 if you’re curious) is excluded. So this is not something I can fix by calling the insurance anymore. I went right to HR. So the benefits team at my HR department is looking in to it as an urgent matter, considering they’re going to end up denying about $40,000 worth of eligible expenses for me.

I’m trying not to be worried about it. If anyone is equipped with the tools to fix this, it’s me. But if HR comes back and says the claims are denied correctly, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I wouldn’t trust them with my phallo, that’s for sure. Most likely I’d go looking for another job. Shit, maybe I’ll go back to Starbucks. They definitely cover phallo.

The thing is, “Transgender surgery” is SPECIFICALLY listed as a covered benefit. I think what the insurance company wants is for the providers to bill with the diagnosis F64.0 instead of F64.9, and if that’s the problem then that means I have to wait to be billed by ALL these providers so I can call their billing department and ask for supervisors until I can find someone who understand that they need to change the diagnosis codes on their claims. It would be ridiculously time consuming and difficult, for essentially no reason. Here’s what these codes stand for:

F64.0: Transsexualism F64.9: Gender identity disorder, unspecified

Excuse me, WHAT? Are you trying to say that gender identity disorder is not a valid reason to have transgender surgery? Do I need to call the insurance company and explain that the nomenclature of the word “transsexual” is steeped in history and debate among the trans community and there’s nothing that makes it more valid or medically legitimate than “gender identity disorder,” and that to claim otherwise is disingenuous? Am I supposed to call up an outsourced customer service department in India and say “Your insurance company is truscum?”

Anyway, I’ve rambled long enough. 

TL;DR: The hysto was very easy, but now my insurance company is being a butthead.

[molnlycke]

100 DAYS OF SUNLIGHT BY ABBIE EMMONS REVIEW

As a disclaimer I want to say that I found the Youtube channel of Abbie Emmons by one of her ‘write with me’ videos. Following that I watched some of her WritersLifeWednesdays vlogs and thought, this woman has tremendous passion and work put into her craft. She actually gives valuable advice, and the themes of her videos are pretty good. So when I saw that she has a novel of her own published, I wanted to see how she incorporates the stuff she talks about into practical work. This is how I started reading her debut novel: 100 Days of Sunlight.

I was curious, okay?

But oh man, what is this?

This book… I’m sorry it’s just so bad. The mess of glaring problems, plotholes, the …characterisation. Abbie Emmons says every good story is character driven (which I wholeheartedly stand by if it is executed well!!!) but what should I get from this, honestly?

There are too many things screaming PROBLEMATIC here.

But let’s start at the beginning.

The exposition––the first chapter’s building don’t make no sense. It has a twist in it alright, but why start with something that turns out to be a dream (or a scrap of a memory in this case) of the actual past, only to get dumped with everything else that also happened following that scene? All of this is told from the protagonist’s reminiscing of said happening.

- To be clear the book starts with the scene of an accident–the accident in which the protagonist, Tessa loses her sight. A drunk driver with a pickup truck runs the red light crashing into the car Tessa and her grandmother are in. Soon it turns out that’s only a recurring nightmare and she’s been home for one or two weeks (maybe? I don’t remember precisely). By this time she has already lost her sight. Tessa runs the audience over all that happened after the accident (basically in those weeks she got discharged from the hospital etc. etc.) Now my question is why not start the book from the accident itself? It all gets narrated either way.

The next problem is the way first Tessa’s grandparents, and then the WHOLE BOOK just downplays consent. Why? Why would you do that?

- Tessa’s grandparents “know better what’s good for her than she does”–that’s an actual quote from the novel btw. Nothing glaringly alerting in that, I mean adults often have this way of thinking about children. Until… they try to arrange a stranger to help Tessa with transcribing her work. Tessa is a poet with a blog where she posts her work on schedule. Ever since the accident, she doesn’t feel like writing (or blogging for that matter). She’s shut herself off from the virtual world, doesn’t touch her laptop, nor speaks with her internet friends. (Because ofc she’s homeschooled, doesn’t like to go out at all and only has internet friends in the first place.) She’s in her room for most of the day, cries a lot and tries to cope. Whether her coping is good or bad I’m not qualified to say, but she thinks of herself as selfish, lazy, cynical, and depressed most of the time––everything she never wanted to be, things hates with every fibre of her being. She blames herself and basically detests life for beating her down to the ground. She feels she can’t get up even though she’s told, her blindness is a condition that can go away in ninety-something days’ time. I think feeling these emotions are pretty reasonable for a teenager. It’s been like three weeks since the accident, and her newfound blind perspective of life. That can’t be easy. BUT her grandparents know this isn’t healthy, Tessa needs to write. “I haven’t written one verse, one line, one word of poetry. I have no desire to. I have no inspiration, no joy. It’s all gone.” - Tessa from ch.1 So what do Granny and Gramps do following their infinite wisdom? Play the girl. And I’m like, sure dude, harass the child into doing what you want. Sure, don’t try to get her professional help or a psychotherapeutist or something if you think she’s faring so terribly. Sure, run an ad for hiring some part timer to transcribe for the poet who doesn’t want to write anymore. Sure, do it all behind her back. I mean she has PTSD and is blind for now, but yeah, this will most definitely help. Good job! For goodness’ sake they treat the girl like she’s been locked inside her room for months?!

When they share this brilliant plan with Tessa, she freaks out so much the elderly retract the ad. But not before the son of the newspaper’s owner gets a scrap of this new, possible past time activity and decides to be a creep and essentially stalk Tessa. But that’s for later.

Tessa explicitly tells her grandparents she doesn’t want to meet new people, doesn’t want to write, what she needs is time. So the next thing Granny does is pushes an unknown, teenage boy into her blind granddaughter’s room for a chat. Against Tessa’s repeated objections! There’s so much nonsense going on in the sequence of the story. Like one day there comes a boy–a stranger, knocking on the door, saying he’s this and this’ son and wants to help. And because, at a glance, he has prosthetic legs, you invite him first into the house then into your blind teenage granddaughter’s room? Without actually knowing if he is who he says he is? Without knowing the first thing about him? But even if that part is true, and he is who he says–the son of the newspaper’s owner, let’s not forget the mildly stalkerish way the guy’s been acting.

Granny shares a shit load about Tessa’s problems, then flat out tells her to meet Weston. “I told you I don’t want help. And I certainly don’t want anyone touching my laptop. I don’t want to write. I don’t want some stranger coming into my house and feeling sorry for me!” That’s Tessa speaking with Granny prior to the meeting. I mean it’s no biggie if she’s against the whole idea because he could help, right? Is this the American way of handling things? Someone give me a spoon that I can boink myself in the head with to get around this type of mentality.

At the first meeting Tessa has meltdown, screams at Weston and cries. Tells him she doesn’t need help. Tells him not to bother. Tells him she wants him OUT OF HER ROOM. Weston leaves before telling her he’ll be back the next day. And Granny and everyone else is fine with that. So in the following days the nuisance has the audacity to come over, small-talk the grandparents into loving him because he’s so charming everyone is in love with him a little. (That’s another thing from the book, I shit you not, the dude straight up thinks things like this. Yes, I know it’s self-deceit.) Weston forcibly takes over Tessa’s room which is basically the last place she feels comfortable at? Never mind, now someone’s popping in randomly when they think it’s cool, telling her what to do––“I know you don’t need me. But you need to write.” Bitch I think you need to fuck off from people’s lives who don’t want you in it. Just an advice.

One time Tessa wakes up to Weston barging into her room (“...he walks into my room without knocking, at 9.00 a.m., when I’m still in my pajamas”). Granny’s off to do her things leaving the boy to stay and make himself at home. Huh, quite reasonable.

Weston forces Tessa to accept there’s no fleeing this situation––one, the three of them (him and the oldies) constructed for her. Because it’s helping.

That’s basically the question of: where’s the line between wanting to help someone and pushing them even deeper when they’re already at a bad place. But since this is a YA romance everything is nice and good and sorted at the end so Tessa can thank her loving family for forcing their volition on her.

- Here’s another lovely example of consent portrayed in the novel: “I told you I don’t want to go outside.” Weston laughs. “You also told me to get out of your house and never come back.” “And you directly disobeyed my wishes.” “And you’ve been enjoying it...” Please tell me I’m not the only one seeing what’s wrong with this whole dialogue. It’s so disappointing and frankly, discouraging, to see an attitude like this written by a woman, targeted at a young, female audience.

- Oh, there’s their first kiss as well. It’s really really romantic. Weston asks for permission then doesn’t wait for the answer! “I’m gonna kiss you. Is that okay?” It’s not fair, because I don’t give her any time to reply. Instead, I press my lips against hers. Without permission.” ...So why did he even bother to ask? To seem nice? Well, as the saying goes it’s the thought that counts… So is this how consent works? NO! But consent never stood a chance in this book at the first place.

Next up; Characters.

*not @me side-eyeing Abbie’s video about how to craft a strong female protagonist* - I’m not gonna say a lot about Tessa. For me she falls flat like a cut-out. She’s paper thin, and dumb, although she’s the novel’s protagonist. Funny though, I feel she has less to give to the story than Weston, and it’s not just the length of their respective chapters. There’s like 600-700 words from Tessa’s POV (mainly about Weston 80% of the times), then we get a 4k word count chapter from Weston (mainly about his own journey and overcoming his struggles). Tessa’s chapters are either shallow or about her time spent with Weston. Opposed to this Weston has a full arc of him getting over the loss of his legs and standing up from it (quite literally). See what I’m talking about? All I get from Tessa before the accident is that she’s a writer, homeschooled, likes her colour coordinated books, and waffles (like Abbie ha!) (*whispers* and she wears her hair in a messy bun, ofc she does). Oh and she can’t live without WiFi. All I get after the accident is that she’s hurting, angry and blind. And now she has Weston. So her backstory is…..?

- Weston. Oh man where to start. Now he has a backstory. From it we can conclude how idiotic he is. That’s not recklessness or being a teenage boy. I’m sorry but his behaviour is simply idiotic. Sometimes he’s really grown up (taking care of his baby brothers and all) other times he has like 1 (one) braincell operating in his head. Bearing weeks of pain, and not saying anything about it to anyone because that’s not superhero like? WHAT??? He experienced, at the least, three weeks of torturous pain and several days of fever and dizziness, popping Advil like it’s candy. Still, the only one who realised this is his best friend at school and his 10 year old brother who was at the scene of Weston injuring his legs in the first place. What about the parents one might ask. Well Idk. Obviously a 13 year old is so good at deception and sneaking around that adults can’t catch on! On this note I want to gift Parents of the Year Award to Mamma and Pappa Ludovico. With parental supervision like that I’m baffled the child lived up to the age 13.

Weston is the nightmare male lead people usually salivate after in k-dramas stuffed into the body of a 16 year old American boy. Now I’ve never understood those people and their preferences of the bratty, entitled, but oh-so-handsome males and I still don’t understand to this day. Where’s the appeal? Don’t ask me.

I’ll just put down some quotes: “It’s the first time in three years anyone has ever met me without that look of pity on their face. The first time anyone has ever looked at me and not seen me. The first time anyone has stood before me—with perfectly normal legs—and complained about their own problem. The feeling is exhilarating.” So basically this is the so called ‘No one has ever treated me like this. Except this girl, my God, she’s intriguing’. Weston enjoys Tessa’s rude behaviour. “So she’s stubborn. She’s rude. She’s a spitfire wallflower who lost her sight and now hates anyone who tries to help her. Game on.” ...Are you five? “Tessa is the only Dickinson who doesn’t like me.” I have no idea why that could be. But, listen, listen: “I turn around in the desk chair, throwing her a hard look over my shoulder. She’s still sitting rigid and stoic on her bed, staring at nothing. She’s actually really pretty. Her eyes are bluer than mine—the enhanced kind of blue you see in contact lens commercials. She has freckles, too. Just a few, thrown across her nose and cheeks. Her hair is braided today, less messy. She looks so serious. I liked it better when she was screaming and crying.” Idk somehow this sounds like every badly composed romance I’ve ever seen. Let’s just say the progression of the relationship between Weston and Tessa infuriated me 90% of the story. You can help others without being an ass. You can also help others without being a horrible love interest, but that’s for another day. YA contemporaries don’t work like that.

Oh Weston, what a knight in shining armour. Three years prior, he had this thing with Clara Hernandez–a girl from school. It wasn’t real dating but they spent some time together (he walked her to class ooooh~~~) so she became “at the time, my unofficial girlfriend”. Things change after Weston’s accident, of course. He tells her he doesn’t want to continue their ambiguous relationship. And that’s alright, it’s his choice, BUT he then kind of passes the girl to his best friend, so she won’t annoy him anymore? The way he narrates the whole thing is...ugh. “But she wasn’t even dumping me, and we weren’t even dating. We were thirteen years old, for crying out loud.” See, this is Weston thinking about what happened. And this is him telling Rudy about it: “What were you talking to Clara about?” he (Rudy) asked. “I dumped her.” Following in another chapter they talk about how now that the coast is clear––Weston and Clara are through, Rudy should hit on Clara: “He wanted to resist the whole thing and deny his obvious crush on Clara Hernandez. But he couldn’t do anything except laugh and shake his head. He knew I was the best friend he could ever ask for.” Such a kind and caring person for handing out the girl he doesn’t really want to his best friend. Give him a medal for that one. Idk this whole business irked me to no end, like Clara was his possession or something. (Yeah, and the poor girl eventually ended up with Rudy, not like she had any other choice…)

- Downplaying female friendship. Yeah, that one happens as well. When Tessa talks with her friends (her blogging circle) the only thing we as readers can glimpse about their conversation is “Tell us more about the boy,” like... really? Because once again that’s the only thing a group of friends can talk about when one of them suffers an accident resulting in trauma. And Tessa’s answer? “At first, I didn’t like him. I thought he didn’t understand anything about me—even though he acted like he did. And I’m not sure that he understands much, even now. But he’s kind. And patient. And he kept coming back to type poetry for me, so I’ve kind of been forced to make friends with him.” The reply of her friends… “Aw ... He sounds really cute.” Yeah, really cute, forcing you to be friends with him. “How can you not be in love with a boy who makes you waffles?” Well, friend no.5, it’s not that hard… But there’s more. After Tessa gets her sight back the only thing we get from this supporting bubble of warm friends is as follows: “LIV: TESSA HOW ARE YOU FEELING ME: a lot better actually ME: my headache FINALLY went away MARIA: yayy!! ALLISON: PRAISE THE LORD ME: yeah fr KATE: So glad to hear you’re doing better, Tessa! It must be quite a transition omg… GRACIE: I can’t even imagine ME: it’s been pretty crazy ME: but good ME: I guess ME: ugh idk mixed emotions LIV: ???? LIV: TELL US EVERYTHING LIV: if u want to lol ME: ahhh well ME: Weston is kind of not talking to me anymore,” That is it my friends. Two to three sentences about her condition and it’s time to talk about the boy. Is this really how shallow anyone would want to describe the protagonist and her close-knit group of friends talking for the first time after one of them lost their sight? Then again, talking for the first time after she got her sight back? I’m disappointed to say the least.

- I didn’t care for any other character enough to jot down my observations. They were bland, they were there to help the main couple, nothing more, nothing less. Weston’s kid brothers were cute and Rudy seemed like a normal, sane character (I applaud him for that). All I can say is the families in this novel are something else.

The romance.

Okay, let me state before anything else: I like romance if there’s balance. I like romance when the people involved are equals. I believe a relationship, and a good one at that, should have cornerstones. One of them has to be that equality. It also doesn’t hurt if none of the involved parties are assholes. The romance can be of any trope as long as the happy ending is tied to said relationship being healthy. And I don’t mean sorely the end product; the way that relationship is constructed step by step should resemble these things. If not, at least call them out for it. I’m not the advocate of perfect characters or relationships (any kind, not just romance) because that would be really unrealistic. It can be bad, yeah, it can be toxic, or a little messed up in the middle. But for crying out loud reflect that in the storytelling! Do it especially if the story is planned for a younger audience! Now let me make another statement: What I don’t like is that in mostly American YA het-romances there are rarely any of these things.

- This one here is probably supposed to be the writer’s well liked trope of hate-to-love romance, but I feel the concept of kindergarteners is more fitting. The boy forces, the girl yields. But it’s okay because he likes her and wants to help.

There are some cases of harassment sprinkled in, as in one party objecting the other’s closeness or presence and the latter not giving a damn about this. Real respectful; but, hey, that’s part of consent too so I guess it simply flew over our heads in this particular story. A fresh and original concept on romance, wholesome and healthy. And the thing is, Weston actually knows these things. He literally says so in the book, “...until I intruded on Tessa’s life, however it happened.”

And of course Tessa is more pure than fresh snow on white lillies; she’s basically a lotus. Weston is the first boy stepping into her room. Give me a second to freak out about that. It’s so exciting! (Mostly by knowing the circumstances in which he did that.)

The other thing that annoyed me was Weston’s entitlement and holier-than-thou attitude. He knows everything better than Tessa. He knows Tessa better than she herself does WHEN HE DOESN’T EVEN KNOW THE FIRST THING ABOUT HER. That’s the moral of the story. No, but I’m not kidding, some of his thoughts set me on fire. “She wrote about sunlight and oceans and falling in love, when I’m pretty sure she has no idea what it feels like to fall in love.” I’m sorry, but do you know Tessa? (besides stalking her via the grandparents)???? The audacity, I’m cackling.

- Can someone tell me why Tessa speaks with Weston if she doesn’t want to? I mean besides that this way the story can go on. She actually starts their conversation on the second day. Me, personally, don’t talk to people whose presence I can barely tolerate. How silly, I know.

- Weston annoys the shit put of Tessa for like five minutes but he talks to her, (for his own selfish reasons may I add––Weston, honey, if you want people not to pity you try helping blind little kids who actually want your help) and brings her flowers, and chocolate so I guess it’s reasonable that approximately four days later Tessa’s attitude shifts to comparing him to sunlight. “Weston is everything And all at once. Weston is gentle And harsh. Weston can be blindingly bright But then he can also be Delicately soft. Weston is a paradox.” – Oof girl.

- Let me tell you kids just because someone annoys or teases you and you tolerate it––that’s not the get-go to life changing love. Even though he’s the first real life boy whom you’ve ever spent casual time with. But he’s the first boy who ever showed you real attention, you say. Well then, that’s a grace girls have to accept. Or so this book and so many others try to make us believe. The sad thing is, there actually could’ve been a conflict––if one wants to write about opposites attracting each other so much––without making the story so cliched and weak.

Plot-holes.

- Maybe it’s nitpicking for some, BUT… why was Weston in his dad’s office in the first place? I never got around to the reason of that. He loiters around there once a week, that’s what the book states. Well, okay, he is there inspecting the motivational quotes collection on the wall while his father just works away. And am I supposed to believe the man is all cool with this? What is Weston doing there? For what reason? The answer is easy: he simply had to hear the phone call of Tessa’s grandfather retracting the ad.

- Now why does his father–the owner of the newspaper–accept calls regarding ads in the first place? Is this really how things work? Other employees do nothing? I’ve worked at a small printing company in the past. The management only accepted calls regarding ads if there wasn’t a single soul anywhere near the perimeter of the office. There’s a department for jobs like this. Bosses don’t qualify.

- About the already mentioned beautiful first meeting, where sparks fly, and the lovely couple can roll off a great start... If Tessa didn’t want to meet anyone why didn’t she lock her door? That’s a pretty easy task. At first I thought maybe there’s no lock on the door. But wait; after the disastrous meeting she locks herself away. “The door is locked, and Grandma has stopped trying to open it.” Sooo there was a lock after all…...okay…….

- Why is almost everyone in this book freckled with blonde hair and blue eyes? Okay, this really is just nitpicking, but like, is there some symbolism in that? *bounces eyebrows* Ehem, if you know what I mean.

- I’m not sure if this is an actual plot-hole but I was really surprised by the lack of anxiety Weston’s approach triggered in Tessa. Essentially, Weston is a stranger at the start of the book, with whom she gets locked into a room, without anyone else in there, when she’s still adjusting to the fact she can’t see. I especially looked out for it; Weston closes her door every time he’s over at their house to speak with her. I mean the first time she’s angry; but what about later? She doesn’t even seem nervous or affected by this at a time when her blindness is still fresh. Yet, when they go to Barnes & Noble, a public space with people around, Tessa is anxious the minute Weston leaves for a bathroom break. Like okay, some strange dude tries to pick her up and she’s rightfully terrified, but all she has to do is call out. Now both of these scenes are pressuring and scary, but where’s the difference? Tessa is nervous when the stranger approaches her in the book store, a big and open space with people around even before said stranger tries to initiate skinship. She tells him to leave her alone. But she did just that when Weston first went to see her. And Weston didn’t give a shit about it, much like the high schooler at the book store. And I’m supposed to believe with Weston she wasn’t apprehensive at all? Of course she wasn’t… he’s the love interest.

The whole book store scene makes me so uncomfortable and NOT because of what you’d think. It’s simply distasteful to create a scenario like that only to draw it back to… yes, you guessed it, Weston. He’s the saviour sweeping Tessa off her feet with “Get your hands off my girl” and chasing away that jerk. Why is it that still, in the year of *looks at smudged handwriting on hand* sometime past the 1890s there’s the need to use The Jerk™ hitting on the girl and The Nice Guy™ saving her by making her seem like his property? Oh did I forgot to mention the jerk smelled like cigarettes, and his pants were falling off his ass. I’m surprised he wasn’t wearing a leather jacket or had piercings just to fit the look to a T. That usage of my girl ...ugrghgh I can already feel white hairs sprouting from this. Look, I’m not against the idea of belonging to your beloved. If you want to say it, cool, do it. But when it’s not consensual, and you’re not a couple who already expressed to one another the wish to be viewed that way maybe DON’T FUCKING USE IT. Not to one up another guy trying scare the baddie away. Man, don’t do that. *channelling my inner LE to rap the last line really loud* What’s even better than this? Tessa’s reaction: “Despite the gravity of the situation, I can’t help but smile and get butterflies all over again.” REALLY???? Please donate braincells to this girl. She really needs it.

The dynamic of relationships.

- This is mind bogging for me. Almost all relations (excluding the most fundamental ones) serve a sole reason: cheer on and make the main couple happen. This book is promoted as a love story, one, not limited to romance. It’s a love story of family bonds, love between brothers, and grandparents, and friends. And that’s true for Weston… but for Tessa??? I don’t think so. But maybe that stems from how underdeveloped Tessa’s character is.

- The main couple’s dynamic is so stilted. Weston basically caused the state he is in, Tessa suffered an accident caused by outer circumstances. She’s the victim of a drunk driver, while quite frankly, Weston’s the victim of his own stupidity. And yet, since Weston decided to fight for himself he expects Tessa to do the same. Now that’s a nice thought, even if it’s about someone you barely know and met maybe two times in your life. Is that a reason to harass the other and tell them what to do, not taking no for an answer? I highly doubt it. Weston wanted to get better so he pressed himself, but he made that choice himself. It’s beautifully written down not once, not twice, but multiple times; how hard it was for him to choose between 1, the easy way––the flat grounded desert and 2, the hard scaling and rocky mountain range. He chose the mountain range and that’s admirable. What’s not admirable is, that from what I get from this book, Tessa never had the luxury of a choice. Because other’s never gave her time or let her decide for herself. Tessa says Weston is stubborn and obnoxiously optimistic. I think he’s just obnoxious, period.

- At the end of the book Tessa narrates how ashamed she feels and how her heart is breaking “Because of what Life has done to Weston.” For one, is Life responsible for what happened to Weston? I’d liked to read about how Weston tells the story of losing his legs to Tessa with a straight face, because all thorough the book he never once did that. To anyone. If that happened, he ought to admit how incredibly stupid he had been. As well as the consequences of his own decisions, every time he went on without saying a word or asking for help. That stubbornness is his character trait. Yes, it is, but we never get to see how that affected his family, there wasn’t one paragraph about his parents talking about it with him.

- On this note why is Tessa always so ashamed, feeling like she’s the brute, saying sorry to everyone at every chance? It’s not like others apologised to her once. This character trait only perpetuates the notion how everything others impose on her is fair trade because they only want to help. And either way, she only feels apologetic about standing up for herself.

Mentions of notable things that annoyed me.

- The judgement if a girl need makeup or not, because *banging pots and pans* she’s beautiful no matter what in the boy’s eyes. And he tells her just that. “Are you wearing makeup?” I ask, without thinking. Tessa smiles just a little. “Yeah,” she says. “Grandma helped me with it. This feels like… a special occasion.” “You don’t need it, you know. You look beautiful without it. But you look beautiful with it, too. You always look beautiful. Even when you’re crying.” Tessa really needed to know your opinion about her wearing makeup Weston. Kudos for you for telling her she doesn’t need it because she looks beautiful without it, but it’s okay to wear it as she looks beautiful with it too. Great input man!

- At this point I’m not even surprised, but there really was the girl staring at something, asking if it’s pretty. (Okay, Tessa couldn’t stare but she was probably imagining––here it’s the sundown, bc of the whole sunlight theme). Then the boy answering, “Yeah, it’s pretty.” Not as pretty as you, he thinks while staring straight at her. Hello, is this a Disney production?

Conclusion.

All in all is this the worst book ever? No. Are there unforgivable problems with it? Not explicitly.

My biggest problem is what message it sends about relationship patterns, patterns I hate with a fiery passion. It’s the same old shit I grew up with, and it’s the same old shit that doesn’t seem to change after twenty years. Not even now when,––with the help of the era of internet––everyone is suddenly so woke. But are they, really? All I saw about this novel is the raving reviews praising it to heavens. And there are themes in it that deserve praise––the acceptance of one’s self, the loss, the forgiveness, the overcoming of hardships of life––but what about all that’s left? What about the execution?

Bottom line is, because this is a book, everything gets resolved and all is happy and fine at the end. However in real life, coercing others to do things against their will isn’t a glorious idea. Disregarding consent isn’t acceptable. Helping with the stubbornness of a mule isn’t really helping. And last but not least, perpetuating a mindset and a budding relationship like the one presented in this book––for a young audience shouldn’t be okay.

[missyslittlepet]

((Requested - It's readers birthday and Heartman surprises them with vines.

It's not very long but I really hope this is kinda what you were after????? Enjoy!!! 👍🏻💙))

Happy Birthday Raven! I Can't Swim.

"What do you fancy for breakfast?" You asked Heartman as you walked to the kitchen.

"Now that you've gained some strength back after your surgery you can have whatever you want. My treat."

You were so happy that he finally got a heart transplant meaning he didn't have to stick to his twenty one minute cycle anymore. You had been together for about a year when he agreed to it having fully moved on from the search for his family.

"Can I get a waffle?" He asked with a grin. He had been on strick healthy foods to help with the recovery so he was ready to get his teeth into something tasty.

"CAN I PLEASE GET A WAFFLE?!" Your brain had the words out before you even thought about it. The reaction was so natural considering how long it had been since you had watched that video.

Heartman jumped at your sudden outburst making his glasses go askew. You laughed again at his reaction, he was so cute sometimes.

"(F/n), you can't go making me jump, I still don't know just how much this new heart can take." Heartman joked.

"I know," You laughed. "I'm sorry Heartman. It was instinct, honestly. I used to love vines."

"Vines?" Heartman asked carefully adjusting his glasses before looking over them at you.

"Yeah, Vine." You grinned excitedly.

Heartman squinted in confusion and you felt your smile drop.

"Oh come on! Please tell me you know what vines are!"

"I can't say that I do (f/n), sorry. What are Vines?"

"Oh my God, how did you miss out on vines?! They were short videos on the internet before the Death Stranding. Just a few seconds long but they were so hilarious! Me and my friends used to communicate solely in vine references, it was great!"

Heartman smiled at your enthusiasm despite not having the faintest idea what you were talking about. He could tell that these 'Vines' meant a great deal to you.

"Ah well," You sighed fondly at the memory. "I'll get you those waffles!"

You beamed at him before returning to your task.

He watched from his chair as you pottered around the kitchen making him his food. The smell floated through the air and made his mouth water. He adored you and appreciated all that you had done for him over the past few years. You were his rock when he lost him family and when the Death Stranding finally ended he realised that you had become his world. You were always helping him in some way. Whether that be through his mourning or getting him waffles.

Heartman knew your birthday was tomorrow and he was yet to find a gift for you. Despite knowing you so well he still struggled with finding gifts for you. He had been searching for a way to show you how much you meant to him but nothing was as heartfelt as you deserved. He had considered proposing to you but he didn't want to be cliche and wanted to make it really special.

However, now that he had found out about your love of 'Vines' he thankfully had a few ideas. He decided he would wait until you went to your meeting with Die-hardman before getting started since he knew you would be trapped there for hours.

Heartman had missed his research and now he had something new to get his teeth into. Due to Sam successfully connecting the Chiral Network it meant that he now had access to archives from before the Death Stranding. He quickly typed in 'Vines' into the database and thousands of folders popped up. At first all he could find was information on plant samples but he was determined to find what he was looking for.

After an hour and a half of searching he finally found a folder containing videos and social media posts. From what you had described he thought he was in the right place. He browsed the video titles and found one called 'Iconic Vines That Cured My Depression And Watered My Houseplants' and decided it was a great place to start. He opened up the video and watched intently not sure what to expect.

"Two bros chilling in a hot tub. Five feet apart cuz they're not gay!" The video was of two men and lasted only a few seconds.

"What on earth?" Heartman said pushing his glasses up his nose. He leant in closer to the screen.

"Every time you yell at your kids put a quarter in your no yelling sock and pretty soon you'll have a weapon to bea-"

Heartman couldn't help chuckle at that one. The more he watched the more confused he became in the most wonderful way. The humor was ridiculous but he loved it and found himself laughing along with them. Before he knew it he had binged several compilation videos and had a whole set of notes to create some birthday surprises.

Your cuff flashed as you sat in yet another meeting signaling you had received a message. You were thankful that this was the last meeting of the week. They were getting more and more frequent as they were discussing plans for repairs to old delivery equipment. Of course this meeting just so happened to be on your birthday. Lucky you right?

You hadn't gotten the chance to speak to Heartman before you left. He still slept a lot despite his recovery almost being over meaning he was still fast asleep when you were getting ready. He looked so peaceful and you kissed his forehead and snuck out the door, careful not to wake him.

After half an hour more of listening to renovation plans the meeting finally came to an end allowing you to check your mail. You felt a smile tugging at your lips when you saw Heartman's name pop up. You always loved seeing what he wrote to you.

"Good afternoon love, I'm sorry I wasn't awake to see you off. I hope you're having a great birthday and I can't wait for you to come back home to me. Missing you always,

- H x "

You grinned at your cuff before making your way back home. You knew the drive would take forever.

Heartman stood back to admire his creations. Truth be told he was really proud of himself. He never considered himself good at gift giving but this time he was excited. He couldn't wait to see the look on your face when you saw what he had been planning. With a grin Heartman placed the last tray down on the table and waited for you to arrive home.

When the door finally slid open Heartman jumped up and ran towards it to greet you.

"Happy birthday (f/n)!" He said as he wrapped his arms around you tightly and gave you a kiss.

"Close your eyes." He said before you could come any further into the house.

You looked at him suspiciously before doing so anyways. Heartman took your hands in his and began leading you through the house and into the living room area.

"Okay (f/n), you can open them!" He said awaiting your reaction eagerly.

Slowly you opened your eyes and were met with trays of food on the table.

"Welcome to Chilies! I hope you're hungry!" Heartman's grin grew wider.

"What is all this?" You laughed looking at the strange choices of food.

"Could I interest you in some Freeshavoca-do?" Heartman asked pointing to some guacamole in a bowl.

You felt your smile widen.

"Or perhaps some hurricane tortillas?" Heartman could tell that his references were being recognised.

You were beaming at this point. You couldn't believe what he had done for you. Now all the foods made a little more sense to you.

Heartman gestured at a plate of chicken strips.

"Fuck ya chicken strips!" You both shouted in unison. Heartman's new heart melted at how happy you were.

"Oh Heartman!" You pulled him into a hug. "Thank you so much, this is the best present ever!"

He wrapped his arms around you and kissed your forehead.

"This is actually your present." He said taking a step towards the table and picking up the gift box from it. He handed it to you and waited.

You bit your bottom lip as you took the lid off. When your eyes fell upon the wrapped object you started to laugh knowing full well what was under the paper. You quickly ripped it open and put on your best child's voice.

"An avocado... thanks!" You giggled and placed the box back on the table.

"Actually," Heartman laughed. "This is your real present." He pulled a small box from his pocket and handed it to you.

You took the second box and opened it still laughing from the avocado. Inside was a USB stick. You looked up at him and raised your eyebrow.

"It contains thousands of vines so you will never have to miss them again!" Heartman looked so proud of himself. "Happy birthday (f/n)."

You brushed your finger over the USB stick and felt tears come to your eyes. To anyone else they were just stupid videos but they held so many memories for you. They transported you back to before everything went to shit, made you relive moments with those you had lost a long time ago. No one had ever given you a gift that thoughtful before.

"Heartman... I... Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me... How much you mean to me..." You smiled blinking away your tears. "I love you so much."

"And I love you too (f/n)." Heartman rested his palm against your cheek and you nuzzled into it. "We could make a night out of this and play them on the big screen if you'd like? I've grown quite fond of them."

"I'd love to!"

You quickly ran to set it all up while Heartman shut out the day light and set the lighting to pink and blue.

The whole night was amazing. You both cuddled up and feasted on the vine related food while laughing like a pair of hyenas. You were over the moon that he seemed to enjoy vine humor just as much as you did. When it started getting late and you started yawning Heartman stood and switched the screen off.

"Come on, you look tired." He smiled warmly, hold out his hand to you.

You took his outstretched hand gratefully with another yawn. You went to start grabbing the plates but he stopped you quickly.

"Don't you worry about those love, I'll tidy this up. It is your birthday after all." Heartman smiled grabbing the plates from the table. He hummed to himself as he made his way to the kitchen area.

"This bitch is indeed empty. Yeet." Heartman chuckled loudly throwing the plates in the dishwasher.

You shook your head and laughed at the butchered attempt of a vine quote and wondered how you ever got so lucky. This truly was the best birthday you could have ever asked for. Vines, food and Heartman. What's not to love?

[seraphicwiing]

Video Analysis #5- CRISIS CORE (The Truth/’You Will Rot’) 

Alright folks, the wait is over. As promised, I finally have written up my analysis of this very pivotal point in Sephiroth’s tragic timeline. After all of the posts I have made leading up to this, we have learnt of his compassion, his friendship, his loyalty and his martial prowess. Tonight, we’re going to delve into the start of his madness. Buckle your seatbelts peeps and grab some popcorn, this is gonna be a long one. The clip is 3 minutes long, hopefully the analysis I write doesn’t ramble on for too long. Sit back, relax and enjoy the read! (Also testing out a new format for these types of posts with more structured topics and headings <3)

Context

Before we talk about the scene linked below, we must first talk about the events leading up to Genesis’ being an utter douchebag to his little brother and pulling him further into the madness that would lead to his downfall. Sephiroth and Zack arrive at the Nibelheim reactor and quickly discover that not all is as it seems. The pods containing experiments from past JENOVA projects are revealed to the two SOLDIERS and it begins to make Sephiroth question his entire existence. He had been deprived of the truth his whole life, and even now at the cusp of it all his mind is breaking because he can’t tell what is right and what is wrong anymore. Even with Zack trying to help him, the information thrusted at him is all too much for him to bare. 

ShinRa had no idea how fragile Sephiroth’s mental state actually was, nor did they consider the fact that maybe sending Sephiroth to Nibelheim may not be such a good idea considering what was hidden there. But that’s a story for another time, let’s get this started!

‘Am I... A human being?’

Here we begin to see the slow breaking of the once proud hero. The way he says those words, the tone of which he conveys his shock and utter sadness at the fact that the life given to him is most likely nothing more than a fruitless lie. This is such a stark contrast to the Sephiroth we all knew and loved when speaking to his friends in past analysis videos. It hurts a lot more for me since I absolutely adore this character and just hearing him slowly lose his mind really hits me in the gut. After this we see Genesis confirm albeit in the most cruel, heartless and condescending way possible that Sephiroth was an experiment and while Sephiroth really didn’t need to believe a word Genesis said, his psyche had already been broken. All this information being thrown at him is such a huge tidal wave of emotion, it’s no wonder Sephiroth felt overwhelmed. 

(“No such luck. You are a monster.” Okay small tangent for a second: Genesis in this scene is doing himself no favours at all. He wants Sephiroth’s help so that he can live right? Why tell him that he’s a monster and droll on and on about how his life was a lie and that his mother wasn’t actually a real human being but an otherworldly cosmic entity AKA a Monster? AND THEN PROCEED TO ASK HIM FOR HELP THINKING THAT HE’LL JUST WILLINGLY ACCEPT? As I told a good friend of mine: Genesis is such an idiot. I AM SORRY GENESIS RPERS OKAY, I LOVE HIS CHARACTER BUT THE WAY HE ACTS IN THIS SCENE IS SO FUCKING DUMB)

Genesis calls Sephiroth the ‘Greatest Monster Created by the Jenova Project’. And this is 100% truth, we’ve all seen just how strong he is, how special Sephiroth is. This is Genesis trying to turn him onto his side by appealing to the monster and detaching him from his human self. But this was a completely wrong way to do it, especially with a fragile mind like Sephiroth’s. He wanted to be human but he knew he somehow wasn’t in a way, he was always detached. And while he always opened up to people in a manner of which was incredibly kind hearted, he always felt like his brith wasn’t normal. Now finding out the truth, he DOES NOT want to be a monster, he DOES NOT want to be considered compartively to the beasts that were in the pods and with Genesis’ continual insistence that Sephiroth is nothing more than a monster, the small rope that was keeping his mind in check was slowly breaking under the large weight of the truth. 

‘Poor little Sephiroth. You’ve never actually met your mother.” 

Here is where things get super bad for our soon to be psychopath. Genesis throws out all of his cards onto the field, revealing the truth about Sephiroth’s existence and also revealing the truth about his mother: JENOVA. Genesis was right, Sephiroth had no idea who his mother was other than the supposed truths that ShinRa told him. I like to believe that when Sephiroth was growing up, they gave him a forged picture of what his mother looked like AKA JENOVA and from that day onwards, Sephiroth has always conjured that image in his head, that same picture is on his desk back at Shinra HQ and he cherishes it. It makes it hurt so much more watching the scene with this in mind as Genesis further digs into Sephiroth’s heart by mentioning that she was nothing more than a monster and whatever he clung onto was a giant fat lie. 

Notice how Sephiroth turns away from Genesis, the natural smile is gone. His stance, his posture has gone. He’s almost lurching forward, his confident strides naught but small steps forward. His eyes are wide and close at times, he is trying so hard to process everything but it’s all coming too fast for him to handle This form of coercion employed by Genesis may have worked on Angeal but Sephiroth? Hell no. It’s also quite amusing that Genesis knocks Sephiroth out of his confused state by calling him by his full title. SOLDIER: 1ST CLASS, SEPHIROTH. He says it similarly to how a general would do a roll call of his cadets before training, and this is literally conveying Genesis’ belief that he is in full control of Sephiroth, he holds the cards, he holds the power over his little brother this time. He believes that Sephiroth will give him what he wants. Little did he know how wrong he would be however. 

‘What do you want of me?’ 

Genesis’ motivations are finally made clear and we learn what makes Sephiroth so special when it comes to the JENOVA Project. We finally learn of the project where Angeal and Genesis originated from as well as the the one where Sephiroth was from. I’ll let Genesis say why in the video becaue he’ll explain it better than I can, I’ll end up butchering it if I tried. Basically what he wants is Sephiroth to share his cells so that he can stop his degradation. He’s slowly dying a painful death and Sephiroth can stop that because his cells have been perfected. Sephiroth has remained quiet this entire time, pondering the truth while Genesis flaps his gums about being saved, he has already made the decision in his head of what he wants to do. 

‘The Truth I have sought all my life. You will R O T.’ 

And here we finally reach the end. Sephiroth with no remorde left in his heart, his mind deadset on now learning the truth of his birth, denies and what I believe he also does is disown Genesis as a friend and brother. All the memories they shared, all the times they recited and enacted ‘Loveless’ together with Angeal, all of that is now dust in the wind. His expression, the deadpan stare that he gives Genesis is a lot more similar to the evil Sephiroth scowl we all know and love. The way in which he speaks, gone is the relatively light hearted, dry humoured tone of the hero that everyone looked up too when trying to become a soldier. No, he speaks with rage and grief in his tongue. He is legitimately torn asunder after the revalation. Whether it be lie or truth that came from Genesis, he’s done with his brother. Their friendhip is over. And at last, he delivers probably the most scathing, delicious and satisfying burns in Final Fantasy. Not only does he reject Genesis, he literally tells him to ROT. To DECAY! He tells Genesis in the most fitting way to just ‘GO DIE’. ‘THEN PERISH’. It’s one of my favourite insults in Final Fantasy ever. It’s nice to see the sarcastic wit hadn’t died with Sephiroth’s kind hearted nature. 

The scene ends with Sephiroth heading to ShinRa Manor to find further information of his existence while Genesis is left at the reactor. The closing words being: ‘ I see, perfect monter indeed...’. Genesis was actually surprised when Sephiroth denied him, it was quite a priceless reaction if I do say so myself.

I guess this is a fitting way to conclude with a very salty Genesis and a very angy Sephiroth. I want to thank you all for sticking with it this far I know this was a lot longer than normal but there was so much information to digest. I hope I didn’t waffle or state anything that was super obvious from the clip. This’ll probably be the last one for a while as this definitely took a lot of steam out of me. But yes, I’m glad so many of you enjoy this, if you have any scene requests that you'd want to see me have a shot at IM me <3

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

sorry for the wait between posts - i’m not great at the time management thing lol. this one is kind of a continuation from the last one, but not really. anyway, enjoy! (also sorry for the weird formatting, i don’t know what happened!)

You know you’re an outsider and that the people of Hawkins apparently don’t take well to outsiders. Especially the female population of Hawkins. Sure, they were pleasant enough when they saw you out and about, but the whispers started up just as soon as they thought you might be out of earshot.

Normally it doesn’t bother you - you learned long ago not to care about other people’s perceptions. But today, with your pregnancy hormones raging, the whispers that followed you from Family Video to the library to the grocery store, were just getting to be too much.

“Fifteen years! Can you believe it?”

”Knocked-up. Thought he was smarter than that.”

”Sure knew how to trap him quickly.” You turn down a different aisle in the grocery store, your free hand resting protectively over the small curve of your stomach. It wasn’t even noticeable - not unless you wore a tight fitting top. But the loose Duran Duran tee-shirt tucked into jean shorts obscured the evidence of your new pregnancy. There was nothing you could do about the age difference between yourself and Hopper. And sure, you’d only been dating just shy of a year when you found out you were pregnant, but that wasn’t so unusual.

What the gossipy, bored housewives of Hawkins hated was the fact that you and Hopper weren’t married. Or maybe they really did just hate that you had “trapped” him when none of them could. You hate the fact that Jim had slept with most of them, not because he’d had an active sex life before you came into the picture - you’d slept with a handful of men before falling for Jim -, but because these women thought it gave them a claim, a stake in his personal life. You throw three boxes of Eggo waffles into your basket and head for the check-out. It’s time to get out of the public area of town and head home. You keep your head down as your groceries are rung up, not wanting to attract more attention. But the whispers continue - about your too short shorts, your lack of wedding ring, the absolutely inappropriate way you had kissed Hopper at the Memorial Day town picnic just a few weeks before. Biting the inside of your cheek, you offer the teenage cashier a tight smile and pay, quickly scrambling to your car with the groceries.

————

Hopper comes home, just before dinner, and finds you curled up on the couch. He frowns when he realizes that you’re staring blankly at the TV, ignoring the opening music of the 6 o’clock news.

“Sweetheart?” he leans over the back of the couch and rests a hand on the top of your head. “You okay?”

“Hm?” you blink a few times, rolling your neck to face Hopper. “Oh, hi, baby,” you say quietly, giving him a small, tight smile, “Fine, just a little tired.”

He squints at you, evaluating whether or not to probe a little more. Eventually he chooses to believe you. “Everything good with the baby?”

“Mhm,” your smile is more genuine now. “I can almost feel her flipping around in there.”

“Her?” he raises an eyebrow and comes around the side of the couch to sit with you. He opens his arms and you settle against his broad chest, draping one arm over his stomach.

His arms lock around your shoulders and you shake your head. “Just a feeling. I could be wrong,” you mumble into his shirt. He smells like cigarettes, even though he was supposed to have quit when you found out about the baby. He must be stressed.

You can sympathize.

“Another little girl would be nice,” he says quietly, only a little sadness in his tone. You squeeze his hand and he squeezes back.

You cuddle with him quietly for a few minutes, neither one of you really wanting to move. Suddenly, he asks, “Hey, shouldn’t El be home for dinner?”

“She’s hanging out at Joyce’s. They’ve got some crazy D & D campaign happening. Joyce is ordering them all a pizza,” you reply.

“Got the house to ourselves?” Hopper asks and you can hear the smile and suggestion in his voice.

Any other night and you would’ve already had his clothes on the floor, but the murmurs and gossiping behind your back has really burrowed its way into your brain. You shrug and try to get even closer to Hopper. “Not really feeling up to it, Hop,” you admit quietly.

His hand - warm and large - rests against the middle of your back and rubs slow circles. “Okay, we can just relax and enjoy a kid free night.”

You shrug and feel Hopper shift under you. He gently pulls away and looks down at your face, a concerned crease forming in between his eyebrows. 

“Okay, what’s the matter? You’ve been quiet all night and I sure as hell know that’s outta the ordinary for you.”

You hesitate and then admit flatly, “They’ve been talking about us.”

Hopper’s face sets into an angry scowl. “Thought I made it perfectly clear that you n’me aren’t a gossip topic for this town?”

“You can’t stop people from thinking and whispering to each other,” you mumble. “At least they’ve stopped saying shit to my face.”

“I’m the fuckin’ chief, and you’re my girl,” Hopper growls. “Think they’d show us some respect.”

You let out a joyless laugh, “It’s not like they’re making up lies about me, Jim. I’m 29 and knocked-up with my boyfriend’s baby. I’m a fucking stereotype. At least I’m out of my teens.”

Hopper goes silent and you hold your breath, blinking back tears. He can’t even deny it - everything that’s been said about you is entirely true. Well, except for that fact that you plotted and planned to trap him with a pregnancy. That was entirely Mother Nature’s doing. Damn antibiotics cancelling out birth control.

“It’s fine,” you say, waving a hand in the air and trying so hard to sound casual. “I’m happy with you and El and the baby. I don’t care if a bunch of gossipy women think I’m just an unmarried harlot.”

“What if you weren’t?” Hopper says slowly and it takes your brain a minute for his words to register.

“Weren’t what? A harlot?” you ask, leaning away from him a bit and tilting your head in confusion. “I didn’t think I was.”

“No, no,” Hopper shakes his head quickly, a strangely nervous look settling over his handsome features. “What if you weren’t unmarried?”

You sit up fully, leaning back on your knees to stare at him. “I’m sorry? What was that?”

Jim grins at you - the audacity of grinning when your heart is beating right out of your damn chest - and grabs your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. “Said, what if you weren’t unmarried?”

“James Hopper,” you narrow your eyes at him, a slow, disbelieving smile threatening the corners of your mouth, “is that what passes for a proposal in your mind?”

He digs his free hand in the front pocket of his work pants and produces a small velvet box. Your jaw drops slightly. “Would a ring make it a better proposal?” he teases, using his thumb to flip open the lid. A small, sparkling diamond set on a thin gold band greets you.

“Oh!” you gasp, covering your mouth with your free hand. “Jim?” you look up at him, tears gathering in your eyes.

He grins even wider. “Didn’t really plan on doin’ it like this, but what the hell. Y/n, mine and El’s lives are so much better ‘cause you’re in them. Will you marry me?”

He’s not big on romantic words, but you can’t help but feel like Jim Hopper just composed a fucking sonnet on the spot. You nod vehemently, lunging forward to grasp his face in your hands and kiss him soundly.

“That a yes?” he mumbles against your lips when you break for air.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, Jim Hopper!” you exclaim, “Of course it’s a yes!”

He slips the ring on your finger and you admire it, smiling softly to yourself.

“Looks good on ya,” he comments.

“I love it,” you reply. “I love you.”

“Yeah?” he asks, as if he still doubts your love and commitment. He casts his eyes down at the ring and hesitates. “Wanted to ask you months ago. Kept gettin’ nervous. Then I didn’t want you to think it was ‘cause of the baby.” Your smile falters a bit. “It’s not, right?”

Subconsciously, your right hand traces the curve of your stomach - the baby changed a lot, but you hoped it hadn’t been the reason for Hopper to do something he wouldn’t have done otherwise. Hopper’s gaze tracks the motion and he shakes his head.

“El and I picked the ring out around March, was gonna do it then and there, but the kid convinced me it should be special. She and Max had ideas,” he laughs, remembering the onslaught of romantic actions he was supposed to have taken.

“I don’t need special, Jim,” you say quietly, resting your hand on his knee. “This was perfect.”

Hopper still looks a little sheepish, a little embarrassed, but there’s a happy twitch to his moustache and he pulls you forward into a hug. Kissing the top of your head, he mutters, “Anybody in this damn town thinks they’re gonna say shit about my wife, fuck they’ve got another thing comin’.”

You giggle - his wife. You’re going to be Jim Hopper’s wife and officially El’s stepmother. God, what a wild turn this day had taken.

tag list: @0hour9am @joemhazzello @technicallykawaiisoul @loonimoonylooni @fangirlinginspace@pixiehex1985 @harleyh1989 @fingersock1 @bitch4bagels @pulplorrd @wearethebrokenones@crazyonesarethebest @thatisthemagic @thatprettymvthafvcka @daniphee @hufflepuff25@pwoperfangirl @laneygthememequeen @ayatimascd @kakyoin-cherryboy @justalittlebum@anxietysasshole @l0ve-0f-my-life @billyrussosbutt @onceuponathreetwoone @hartonsleeve-blog @ithisismyusernamebitch @daydreamerzk @coolgh0st @w0nder-marie @cainanelea @leia-saveourskins @happy-hopper @that-aesthetic-wannabe @winterxblogger @girlwiththenegantattoo@gellus-bitches @anmactireaonair @yipthegoddess @thesimsnextdoor @mybulletproofheart7 @aisling1985 @uglyshirts  

[gluupor]

audoldends replied to your post “Okay, first off I have to say that you are one of my favorite fic...”

YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO ID KILL MEN FOR YOU TO FINISH THIS!!! OR AT LEAST ADD A REUNION SCENE!!!! PLEASE OH PRETTY PLEASE YOU GIFTED GENIUS!!!

Your wish is my command. Do I get to choose which men you kill?

The fight was chaos. It took almost all of Andrew’s considerable concentration to keep an eye on Kevin while cutting his way through Riko’s guards. Neil flitted into Andrew’s peripheral vision from time to time, taking full advantage of his raven form by dive bombing the unsuspecting men and pecking and clawing at their eyes.

This was not what Andrew had planned. It was supposed to be a stealth mission, in and out like a scythe, leaving only Riko’s bloody, dead body behind. He should have known that it wouldn’t be that simple. Neil was involved, after all.

It had been a long couple months, travelling across the Kingdom to get to the capital of Evermore. They’d had to keep off the beaten path to avoid being seen and recognized. Kevin, pampered by his life of luxury, had not coped well.

He’d whined and complained and waffled over whether or not he want to be complicit in the murder of the prince. Andrew had seriously considered killing him and being done with it. Only his promise and the potential to end his curse had stayed Andrew’s hand.

It was a cruel twist of the curse that Andrew was the one who was human by day. He envied Neil’s ability to simply fly away when Kevin became too annoying.

As they neared the capital, Kevin grew more and more sullen as the effects of Riko’s instability and mismanagement became more and more clear. Rumours of beatings and murders and thefts by the crown were common. Once they passed through a small village that had been razed to the ground for insulting the prince, Kevin became absolutely resolute. Staring at the bodies of men, women, and children that were strewn through the formerly picturesque village, Kevin had at last conceded that Riko must die.

He was easier to deal with after that, but he was still Kevin: arrogant but still fearful of the wrath of the royal family. He’d taken to training Neil in swordplay in the early evenings after Neil’s transformation, much to Andrew’s satisfaction. He’d always wanted to teach Neil to defend himself but after their curse he had no way to do so.

When they were a day outside of Evermore, Andrew had sat Kevin down and gone over their plan. It wasn’t foolproof and it carried quite a lot of risk, but it was the best they could come up with considering their resources. Therefore, it had been incredibly surprising to find that they had more resources than any of them had known.

They found them a couple miles from the town gates. They were entering during the day because trying to sneak Andrew in wolf form into the city was impossible. Instead, Neil was going to fly over the stone walls and meet them inside, hopefully not getting shot down or captured by any of the city guards. Again, Andrew hadn’t been particularly happy about it but he couldn’t risk being seen with a raven; especially here, where all ravens were thought to be the property of the crown.

Neil had been the first to alert Andrew to their reinforcements. He’d been flying high, surveying their path to Evermore, before giving a shrill cry and swooping low to circle Andrew in increasingly erratic circles. He’d led Andrew and Kevin deeper into the trees surrounding their path, until they camp upon a busy, makeshift camp filled with familiar people.

“Finally,” sighed the sentry, Matt Boyd, as Andrew came into camp. “We hurried to get here, but we worried we missed you. How dare you stage an assault on the castle without waiting for us!”

Andrew hadn’t answered, instead looking around in amazement at the people getting ready for battle. He and Neil had taken shelter in Palmetto after they’d been cursed. They were circumspect and tried to keep to themselves—turning spontaneously into an animal was a good way to encourage a mob to burn you at the stake. Neil, of course, had been noticed by the townspeople and had even made friends. Andrew wasn’t particularly surprised. Neil was the type who inspired loyalty easily.

However, it wasn’t only Neil’s friends that had come to help them kill the prince. Andrew glimpsed his own twin brother and his cousin, along with Renee, the woman who had taught him everything he knew about how to properly wield a blade. They all caught his eye and nodded in solidarity.

After that, a plan was made. Kevin and Andrew would still sneak into Riko’s rooms, but they had a distraction now. The others would take care of that.

Still, Riko, the coward, had a fair number of guards in his private rooms that stood between Andrew and his goal. He stabbed and parried and deflected his way through them on the way to Riko.

He was almost there when he heard a cut off raven’s shriek. He froze as he looked up and caught sight of Riko holding Neil in a death grip. Riko had scratches down his face, bleeding profusely. He grinned sadistically at Andrew, his teeth red with blood.

“Take another step and the bird gets it,” he threatened.

“Let him go,” snarled Andrew, relaxing his stance. The guards backed off to witness the tableau in the middle of the room.

“Not until you drop your sword and surrender,” sneered Riko. “If you do that, I’ll let you both survive with your lives... although Nathaniel might wish he was dead as he spends his nights entertaining me.”

Andrew couldn’t help the growl that escaped him, as close as he could get to his wolf’s while in human form. He took a step forward.

“Ah, ah, ah,” chided Riko, holding Neil tighter. “Get a hold of yourself, dog.”

“Fine,” Andrew grit out, taking another step forward as he moved to lay out his sword at Riko’s feet. At the very last second he sprung, swinging his sword to slice through Riko’s arm like butter. Neil fell to the ground with a thump, still held in Riko’s severed hand.

Riko screamed and stumbled back, scrabbling against the floor as Andrew advanced on him. The guards started forward, but we cut off with a yell from the outer chamber: their backup spilled into the room and started fighting.

“Get him, Andrew!” shouted his cousin, Nicky.

Riko was crying and begging, interspersed with threats about how Andrew was going to pay for his actions. Andrew ignored him, easily sliding his bloody sword into Riko’s heart.

As soon as he did so, he was hit with an invisible force and was thrown back against the wall. His bones felt like they were on fire, like they were snapping and adjusting as he changed shape. But changing shape had never been this painful.

The agony left abruptly, leaving him panting on the floor. It took him several moments to gather his wits; when he did, he looked up to see Neil lying naked in a pool of sunlight on the grimy, bloody floor, staring at his hands in wonder.

He grabbed for the closest covering he could see—the curtain from the window behind him—and rushed to Neil’s side, wrapping him up before anyone looked too closely. His eyes watered since he didn’t dare blink; it had been so long since he’d seen Neil with his human eyes that he didn’t want to miss a single second. He ran one hand along Neil’s neck, revelling in the feeling of warm skin against his own, and tangled his other hand into Neil’s hair. He’d forgotten how red it was in the sunlight—he had been unable to see red as a wolf and Neil was only ever human at night.

Neil, for his part, was looking up at Andrew with awe, tracing his fingers lightly along his jaw.

“I forgot how short you are,” he said in choked voice. “You always look so big when I’m a bird.”

Fuck, thought Andrew, he’s such an asshole. After forced to be apart for so long, that was the first thing Neil said to him? He loved him so much.

The fighting around them had calmed—Andrew spared a glance up to make sure that his allies had won—as he leaned down to kiss Neil desperately. He broke it off before anything more could happen, standing and hoisting Neil into his arms.

Neil whined in complaint, but Andrew shushed him. He had plans. They had to get a private room and Neil had to be thoroughly washed and then their bodies had to get intimately reacquainted. They could wait until they were alone. They had all the time in the world now.

[thrillingdetectivetales]

So I know you haven't been writing much in Mag7 lately, but I was hoping you might be inspired to write some Varaday for one of these prompts?? ❝That was said so horribly wrong but you sounded very cute while trying. A for effort.❞❝I don’t go shopping, I get and retrieve. I have a narrow focus, unlike some people.❞❝Whiskey is a breakfast staple, anyone who says otherwise is fucking lying.❞❝I installed a stripper pole while you were gone because it made me think of you.❞ (I'm bad at favorites)

So I’ll admit that I waffled on whether I wanted to write a fill for Mag7 or not, because it has been Awhile, but I’m so glad that I did, so thank you so much for this prompt! I went with “That was said so horribly wrong but you sounded very cute while trying. A for effort.” I changed the actual literal dialogue up to make it sound more character accurate but the spirit of the prompt still absolutely stands.

I’m putting it behind a cut because probably not everyone wants to read about asshole cowboys in love, but if anyone else would like to play, the Obscenely Domestic Starters Meme is here.

“Jesus Christ,” Faraday groused, sagging against the boulder at his back and mopping his sweat-soaked brow with the rolled cuff of his dusty gray sleeve. “It’s hotter’n hell out here.”

Vasquez snorted and leaned over to spit into the dirt. “Dime algo que no sepa, guero.”

They were posted up on a high outcropping overlooking a narrow valley pass just outside Blackwater, with squat wedges of barren red rock and withered husks of scrub grass the only cover from the brutal late August heat for miles. The sun had meandered across the sky some hours before to hover stubbornly overhead, glaring yellow eye trained viciously upon them where they were waiting on Sam and Miz Cullen to drive a wagonful of banditos—helpfully infiltrated by their own Billy Rocks—into the pinched channel.

Goody was belly-down on a narrow overhang about halfway up the cliff face with a rifle in hand and Red was supposedly loitering somewhere on the opposite ridge, though they had lost sight of him as soon as they parted ways down by the shallow creek at the bottom of the bluff and likely wouldn’t spot him again until the bullets started flying. All in all, warrant hunting seemed to be mostly a whole lot of hurry up and wait, with a hearty side helping of blistering derision courtesy any one of the traveling companions he’d rubbed wrong that day, present company included. Faraday hadn’t quite decided yet if he liked it, but this morning wasted boiling alive in the wilds of the Arizona territory certainly wasn’t doing much to convince him.

“You gonna talk at me in Mexican this whole time?” Faraday grumbled, knocking the scuffed leather toe of his boot against the gaudy silver cap gleaming at the tip of Vasquez’s own. The other man shrugged, rolling the unlit butt of a half-smoked cigarillo between his teeth. He was settled near enough to Faraday that their shoulders brushed and an altogether different sort of heat fizzed under Faraday’s skin at the contact.

“Tal vez,” Vasquez offered. “Could talk Mexican at me, too, you know.”

Faraday snorted. “Now why would I go and do that?”

“You could use the practice, mijo.” Vasquez arched an eyebrow and shot a fond, intent look from beneath the sweeping black brim of his hat. “Remember what you said the other day?”

“No,” Faraday said, pointed.

“You told the whole saloon you were pregnant,” Vasquez provided helpfully. “Sheriff Martìnez laughed so hard he spit beer out his nose.”

It was a small blessing, Faraday considered, that he was already flushed red from the heat. With any luck, the flood of sheepish irritation bleeding up from his chest wouldn’t show in his face so clearly as it normally did, though the sudden smug curl of Vasquez’s smirk suggested otherwise.

“How I was supposed to know that’s what it meant?” Faraday snapped. “It’s got ‘embarrassed’ right in there!”

“It was a good effort,” Vasquez assured, voice thick with delighted condescension. He reached up to bump his knuckles affectionately against Faraday’s chest but Faraday caught his hand in the air, wrapping his fingers tight around it and yanking none too gently until they were standing side by side with their arms tucked down between them, halfway to holding hands like idiots.

“Shut up,” he snapped, and Vasquez snickered through his teeth.

“It was!” he insisted gleefully, that wheezing coyote cackle warping his words. “I’ve never seen you try to apologize before, mijito. Though,” he added, leaning in with his voice low and rough, “if it always goes that badly, I can understand why.”

“Fuck off,” Faraday snarled. He abandoned his grip on Vasquez’s hand in favor of half-turning to shove him away, but Vasquez just laughed and rocked with the motion, slipping even further into Faraday’s space on the return arc.

“It was adorable,” he cooed, plucking the cigarillo from his mouth and stepping up in front of Faraday to press him back into the sun-baked rock. Faraday leaned willingly back but tipped his chin so their noses bumped together. “Y tan dulce en tu parte.”

“I told you I ain’t puttin’ up with that Mexican horseshit,” he grumbled.

“Te gusta esa mierda Mexicana,” Vasquez assured easily. He turned his face just a little, so that his beard dragged against the scruff on Faraday’s cheek and murmured, “Besame.”

“I’m sorry,” Faraday breathed snidely into the half-inch of space between them, grinning sharp. “Did you have a request you wanted to make in English, muchacho?”

“Yo se que me entiendes, pendejito,” Vasquez chided fondly. He nudged Faraday’s nose again. “Besame. Vamos, rápido. Before Sam rounds those ladrones up and we have to go to work.”

“I said English, cowboy, or get - ” Faraday started, but was almost immediately cut off by the hot press of Vasquez’s mouth.

His tongue was soft and slick and tasted largely of tobacco after an hour spent gnawing on the very thing. It curled so sweetly around Faraday’s own that a hard shot of lust ricocheted firecracker-bright all the way down to his toes. He reached up and took a fistful of Vasquez’s vest, canting his head for a better angle, and swallowed down the warbling moan that Vasquez licked into his mouth. He set both hands to Faraday’s hips, fingers digging hard enough to bruise, and Faraday sucked a breath past his teeth, short and sharp.

“Well, now,” he teased, voice low and rasping with want. “Ain’t no reason ever to learn Mexican if this is the reward I get for not speakin’ it.”

“Idiota,” Vasquez said, rolling his eyes. He delivered a quick, chaste kiss to the corner of Faraday’s mouth and then pinched his side, hard, just as the thundering rattle of a carriage picked up in the distance.

“The hell was that for?” Faraday yelped, glowering at Vasquez’s back as he turned to peer down into the ravine.

“Being a stubborn ass,” Vasquez supplied benignly. He pulled one of his pistols from its holster at his hip and wagged it in the air, summoning him over. “Let’s go, guero. Showtime.”

“I oughta push you off this goddamn cliff,” Faraday grumbled, gamely drawing Ethel and pulling her hammer back. There was a gauzy plume of dust rising in the distance, bricky orange against the flat blue sky.

“Go ahead,” Vasquez invited cheerfully. “Good luck finding anyone else who’ll put up with you.”

Faraday snorted and swatted him in the shoulder. “Love you too, jackass.”

——–

Translations & explanations:

The joke is that in Spanish, “embarazada” means “pregnant” but sounds to an unfamiliar English-speaking ear like it should mean “embarrassed.” It’s a very common mishap for learners of the language to make. 

Dime algo que no sepa, guero. - Tell me something I don’t know, guero.

Tal vez. - Probably.

Y tan dulce en tu parte. - And very sweet on your part.

Te gusta esa mierda Mexicana. - You like that Mexican shit.

Besame. - Kiss me.

Yo se que me entiendes, pendejito. - I know you understand me, (affectionate form of) asshole.

Besame. Vamos, rápido. - Kiss me. Let’s go, quick.

ladrones - thieves

All Spanish provided with the caveat that, while I was technically considered fluent in the language at one point in time, I haven’t used it regularly in, oh. Seven years or so? There may be some mistakes and I welcome corrections. :)

Thank you again, @gatesofivoryandhorn for the prompt!! I hope you enjoyed it!

[phantoms-lair]

Tempo Trio Au

Now a unified post since the readmore’s are back

An info dump on what I have for my MSA, Marvel AU(mostly C&Ped from discord):

Okay, start 16 years prior to the story start with, of all people, Norman Osbourn. Norman is having a fling that's deepening into a serious relationship with a free spirited woman named Edie Ramone. His father disapproves on every level. She's not politically connected, she's a free spirit she's hispanic. Eventually it seems Osbourn senior has driven her off. Norman grieves the relationship and never starts one with Emily Lyman as in canon and remains single. Thirteen years later he learns the truth. Edie was pregnant and his father had found out and planned to abort the child so  Edie wouldn’t be able to tie herself to Norman that way. She fled to protect their unborn child. She died shortly after childbirth and their son, Lewis Harry Ramone was put into the system where he's adopted and becomes Lewis Harry Pepper.

And Norman is torn. There's a deep greedy instinct to reclaim his son. But....Lewis is happy. What if by reclaiming him Lewis resents him from taking him from where he was happy? What if Norman becomes his own father? He decides to leave Lewis happy with the Peppers, but watch over him. (Lewis totally coincidentally wins a lot of seemingly random giveaway with prizes he would like).

Lewis has two best friends. Arthur is a quiet inventive boy who lives with his Uncle following his parent’s messy divorce. Vivi is bright and energetic and loves to do things like climb trees and talk with squirrels. One day, when Lewis's class was touring an Oscorp facility an experimental spider escapes and bites Arthur. Norman, of course foots the medical bill as his best friend's father a responsible business owner. Soon afterwards Arthur begins to notices strange things. Super strength, inhuman agility, some kind of danger precognition. And he decides to tell no one.  Lance and Lewis would worry when there was nothing they could do and Vivi would be really excited and probably bad at keeping it a secret, especially from Lewis. So he just keeps a lid on it. Until the day Lance takes him to an exhibition match at the wrestling ring he won his belt in.

Arthur isn't like Peter. He doesn't want fame or money, he wants to keep  his head down. He's heading to the bathroom when he realizes there's a guy with a gun robbing the place. He may have super powers but the other guy's got a gun and Arthur's not about that life. He hides in a vent, texts Lance to tell him to keep low, and calls the police. He doesn't come out until he hears an all clear from the cops. At which point he sees Lance being loaded into an ambulance. He learns that Lance confronted the robber, who was trying to go after some other people. When Arthur bemoans "Why...?" he's told Lance said "All that's needed for evil to thrive was for good men to do nothing." And then he did something. This is going to be Arthur's 'Great power - great responsibility' analog

The hospital manages to save Lance's life  (waffling on whether Lance looses an arm and he gets the replacement), but he's not waking up. The doctors say he may never wake up. Arthur's father come down to set up Lance's long term medical care, then leave again. Everyone kind of assumes he or his ex wife stayed to look after their 17 year old son who's obviously traumatized, and Arthur lets them think that. Privacy works better for him anyway. He's never going to do nothing again.

Arthur’s first suit was made from left over wrestling things from his uncles collection, but later augments it with his own tech. He becomes the scourge of criminals all over the city. Including the secret criminal activities of Oscorp. Norman Osbourn (when not spying on his son) is trying to thwart the Spiderman that keep interfering with his schemes( and giving thanks to the small mercy that said schemes haven’t been traced back to him or his company). He managed to find some of Spiderman’s blood and decides to make a clone to kill and replace Spiderman. It seems to be going well until the clone matures and Oh fuck it’s Arthur

If I kill him, it’ll wreck Lewis

Craaaaaaap

So Norman goes to have a think on this new information. Unfortunately for him the clone is not exactly stable, mentally. (I think I’m gonna call him Mordred, bastard son of Arthur that he is). He despises being a clone. He hates Arthur for being real and Norman for making him. And wouldn’t you know it, there’s a way to wound both of them at once.

Lewis

Pretending to be Arthur, Mordred lures Lewis to an imported statue of an angel in the park and proceeds to try and kill Lewis by smashing his head on the statue. Lewis is big and strong, but Mordred has Arthur’s spider strength. He overpowers Lewis and leaves him for dead. Only the statue isn’t an angel at all. It’s Nemesis, Greek Goddess of Retribution, and she’s willing to cut Lewis a deal.

Lewis gets to come back to life and take revenge on his killer, in return for acting as Nemesis’s agent in the mortal realm. He sees Arthur the next day and is filled with rage. He tries to use his new power on him from a distance but…nothing? It won’t work. Maybe he needs some practice? Just to top it off, Arthur has the unmitigated gall to smile and greet Lewis like nothing’s wrong. Not wanting to make Arthur look like the victim, since he has no proof, Lewis suppressed his hatred until he can figure this out. In order to practice his power he create an alternate persona, Ghost, which appears as a fiery skeleton, to act a a vigilante and practice turning the sins of evildoers upon themselves. He runs into Spiderman pretty early on, and he genuinely likes the guy. Here’s someone risking life and limb to help others and expecting nothing in return, not even gratitude. He’s so naive though, believing criminals deserve mercy. One day he was going to get betrayed, like Arthur betrayed him. What else could he do but watch over the guy?

Soon Lewis learns his power works just fine, on everyone but Arthur at least. He assumes Arthur must have some supernatural protection. He starts bringing some stuff up in conversation, magic talismans, some religious stuff. And while Vivi’s eager to theorize, Arthur gives up nothing. Lewis even tries some old fashioned traps to get him and Arthur keeps just skirting them (Norman is busy trying to find Mordred and realizes none of this)

Arthur, meanwhile, has a lot of concerns about a lot of things. In addition to this new vigilante who seems to have good motivations but is far too ruthless, Lewis is mad at him, and he doesn’t know why. Lewis won’t explain when asked and he’s angry and moody all the time. He’s also asking all these strange questions about magic and old gods and …oh fuck Lewis is in a cult.

So in addition to normal high school life and Spidermanning, Arthur is trying to locate this cult so he can free his friend. He considers asking Vivi or Ghost but once again decides not to. Lewis seems to get even more angry if he tries to get Vivi alone and Ghost might decide to mindscrew every member of the cult, including Lewis! He’s on his own.

This comes to a head when Mordred thinks it’s been just enough time that Arthur might be getting over Lewis’s death. He confronts him in a park, where he’s supposed to be meeting Lewis and Vivi, wearing a black Spiderman outfit.

Mordred: You seem less grief stricken than I expected

Arthur: Why would I be grieving?

Mordred: Dude, that’s cold even for me

At this point Arthur considers himself pretty good at fighting, but that’s mostly due to his enhanced abilities and spider sense. Suddenly against an opponent with the same stabilizes who doesn’t rigger his precog Arthur is vulnerable and terrified. He manages a  quick text to the group chat that there is a crazy fake Spiderman trying to kill him and not to come

Vivi: No one tries to kill my friend Lewis: NO ONE KILLS ARTHUR BUT ME

Lewis gets there first. And sees red. Not only is this guy trying to steal his revenge, but he’s dressed up like an emo version of someone Lewis really respects. He goes to help Arthur and the black Spiderman freezes, while results in Arthur accidentally pulling his mask off trying to get him in a headlock. And neither he nor Lewis know how to react to the fact that it’s Arthur’s face under there. And while they’re still trying to parse that, Mordred has a blue screen of his own. “But I killed you!” At which point some things become crystal clear to Lewis 1)There are two Arthurs 2) His friend was completely and totally innocent the whole time and 3)The guy who tried to kill him is right there

And suddenly Lewis is fire. Mordred doesn’t know what’s going on, but he knows Lewis is still the weak spot of the two he hates the most and tries to attack him rather than Arthur. Lewis is going to take him head on but is suddenly pulled out of the way by Arthur…who’s using web slingers They simultaneous decide this conversation can wait. They gotta deal with Mordred. None of Arthur’s usual techniques work on him and he’s very good at dodging Lewis’s fire and not looking Lewis in the eyes for a Penance Stare.  

Suddenly the fight is interrupted by Vivi running to them and screaming ATTACK! Promptly followed by every squirrel in the park jumping Mordred at once.  Sensing danger and inhuman dodging ability doesn’t help when the danger is everywhere and there’s nowhere else to dodge to. So Mordred flees and Vivi is surrounded by squirrels, Arthur’s standing sideways on a tree branch, and Lewis’s heads on fire Vivi: I think we all have some explaining to do

Then a man with red and black hair wearing small yellow glasses “Yukino Viviane what in the nine realms were you thinki….” Then he notices Lewis “YOU!”

Vivi: (winces) And apparently not just to each other

So it turns out this guy, Mystery, is the Sorcerer Supreme of their world. Also Vivi’s magic bound godfather. He’s started a program helping supernatural beings blend in and live amongst normal humans (something as a kitsune he has a vested interest in). Vivi is one of those, she’s squirrel yokai (or half, still deciding). He does a pretty good job making sure there are no upsets between the arcane and mundane until someone showed up out of nowhere with his head on fire throwing around retribution spells.” He gives Arthur a gimlet eye, but Arthur just ‘Nope, I’m a mutant.“ He’s still watching him.

Lewis tentatively suggests they maybe do this somewhere less public, which Mystery eagerly agrees with. Arthur volunteers his house. Lewis: But what about your parents? When are they going to get home? Arthur: Not anytime soon

And while they’re on their way there, it really starts sinking in for Lewis that he has really been screwing the pooch. He’s spent all this time hating Arthur and trying to get his revenge on him, and Arthur was completely innocent the whole time. Hell, Arthur’s been using his spare time to help other people. (Also the realization of ‘if Arthur didn’t have superpowers, I would have murdered my best friend for no reason’ hits him like a punch in the gut)

It gets even worse when they get to the Kingsmen house and Vivi kinda pulls him aside. “Lewis…does it look like anyone else lives here to you?” Because no. No it doesn’t. “Arthur, when are your parents going to be here?” * shrugs* “Dunno, not anytime soon.” “Okay, let me rephrase. Arthur, when’s the last time either of your parents were here?” Arthur winced, then sighed. “The weekend after Uncle Lance got hurt.”

Months. Arthur had been living a double life alone in his house for months and they never knew.To be fair, he had ready made excuses built in. He never had them over, but it made sense because he famously did no get along with either of his parents. He wouldn’t spend any more time than absolutely necessary alone with them. Also why he would be out at odd hours with his superheroing. Mystery kinda explains the 'we’re trying to keep magic under wraps’. Lewis is “I didn’t know, and honestly everyone seems to think I’m a meta human’ and Vivi’s just 'BTW You’ve been fighting crime together without me how dare!’ 'We didn’t exactly know we were fighting crime with each other, Vi’ 'Oh Spirits you’re not going to get involved in this madness too?’ 'You bet I am’

So Vivi joins the team and Mystery decides to have an overseer role, trying to be strict, but the kids are growing on him. And this insane superhero thing seems to actually be a good idea. It’s a way that supernaturals have a way to act as their true selves and doesn’t even expose them as decades of comics means people don’t associate hidden worlds of magic with superheroes. It becomes a program he can institute on a wide scale. But his favorite place is with these three children. He’s known Vivi since she was a child and has helped her family ( a mix of squirrel youkai and yuki no onna) integrate with humans. And Lewis needs a lot of help suddenly going from normal human to magical. Arthur even comes with a certain relief of not needing to intercede on his behalf and he’s not technically  Mystery’s charge (Mystery tends to intercede on his behalf anyway)

And for a while it goes well. Then Mordred comes back

And it turns out his instability wasn’t just mental. His body has degraded. He’s become emaciated with green skin and eyes and black scelra. The mutation that gave him and Arthur their spider powers has also gotten a bit out of control. His limbs and digits have elongated and he’s grown extra eyes (and maybe limbs, still deciding, but if so I’m thinking an extra set of arms that split off from his and maybe some spindly spider legs coming out of his torso). There is no way he’s getting mistaken for Arthur anymore. He’s also ditched the black spider suit since it no longer fits. Between the squirrels and fire, Mordred has decided that Norman is the softer target and comes back for him. He attacks him and is interrupted by security. Mordred engages them until one declares Norman is dead, at which part he flees gleefully. This wasn’t true, but the guard realized Mordred was an assassin and figured he wouldn’t try to finish the job if he thought it was finished. Norman was taken to a secret location while they tried to save his life, while maintaining the fiction he’s dead. And that opens a can of worms no one was expecting. Because Norman’s will get’s executed and aside from some charitable donations he leaves everything to his only living relative. His son Lewis

So yeah. That’s how Lewis find out Norman is his father, after he’s been killed by a green goblin-like creature. (You see what i did there)

And Lewis has NO idea how to handle pretty much any of this.

Thankfully the lawyer executing the will is loyal to the Osborn family, and thus now to Lewis. Lewis recruits his parents and friends to try and work this out, and they finalize on an idea. They release the information that Norman had a secret son he left everything too, but as the child is still underage he’s going to remain unidentified until he’s old enough to take the helm, with the board running things until then and the lawyer acting as a proxy.There’s actually a trap in this for the board. First of all, by emphasizing Lewis as Norman’s 'child’  they imply he’s much younger than his 15 years and not going to appear for a long time. Meanwhile they’re watching the board, seeing who acts well and who’s trying to seize power.

Lewis is trying to get a crash course in business and all of them are helping him, until Norman recovers enough to be aware and finds out that his will was executed. So now Lewis knows and he has to face his son.

Lewis is MORE than relieved he no longer has to one day run Oscorp, but not sure how he feels about his bio dad who knew he existed but stayed away. Norman ends up being more honest than he liked, admitting his resentment towards his own father and being afraid he’s fall into those habits. "What could I give you? Material things. certainly. A level of luxury beyond your dreams. But could I give you a parent who was home for dinner every night? One who was available to help you with your homework? Could I be sure I would leave my ruthless behavior in the board room and never bring it home? Can I guarantee I’d never become my own father? You were loved. You were happy. You were better off.”

Of course it’s not that simple for Norman. Lewis may be uncertain, but Mr. and Mrs. Chef Pepper are clear in that Norman has to prove himself, and not in a  way that involves money at all. If he wants to be in Lewis’s life, he needs to put in time and get to know his son and let his son known him. Or else just stay away and leave Lewis alone.

In addition to spending time with Lewis, he starts working on creating a better image of himself for Lewis. It helps that he’s made his decision on what to do with his son’s being best friends with Spiderman. Namely it’s the realization that Spiderman is a strictly local hero and Oscorp is Global. Any illegal activity has been moved far away

Ironically Norman works so hard to seem like a better person so Lewis will like his he actually starting to become a better person, even slowly cutting out all activity not above board. He’s not sure how to take that

Random Things:

Vivi’s glasses are a magical trinket that make her look like a normal human and disassociates the her with the idea of being supernatural. She also has the single best information network in the city from every single squirrel being loyal to her. This makes her unparalleled at finding things. Her godfather is also teaching her spellcraft.

Mystery does the dissociation effect with Lewis’s locket, though thus far no one associated the kind and gentle Lewis with the ruthless Ghost. Lewis also discovers much later his powers can also heal if used on a good person.

The first gizmo Arthur added to the suit was a voice changer. He’s also built camera’s in the eyes so he can record things for evidence.

Arthur ends up helping Ironman at some point, including jury rigging part of the suit. Tony looks into him and Irondad commences.

Norman does NOT know Vivi and Lewis are Squirrel Girl and Ghost because of the disassociation trinkets.

If and when lance wakes up, it’s gonna take hi all of five minutes to figure out who Spiderman is.

Chloe is…well no one knows what Chloe is, but she’s a supernatural with a special gift for fabric. She ends up remaking all their costumes.

[littlethingwithfeathers]

Writing Update! 4/4/19

Published this week!

Before the Storms Begin Breaking - Loki/Darcy fic: I’ve had several requests for more from “The Rain’ll Be Gone in the Morning.” And while I had intended it to be a stand alone, there is room to explore the vulnerability in Loki and the dutiful attachment in Darcy that I introduced in the fic… and the giftee of that fic in particular has been asking for more. This new chapter clocks in at well over 10k. Check out the excerpt Below!

***

"So, you were the one that found Loki." Steve said conversationally as he searched the fridge for the coffee creamer.

Darcy nodded with her lips pressed together and kept her eyes on the sausage in the skillet. "Yep." Oh boy, this was going to be awkward. She braced herself for Steve's lethal "I'm mildly disappointed in you" face, accompanied by some form of gentle chastisement for the painfully evident stupidity of her actions, but it never came.

"That was really brave." he said instead.

Darcy froze mid-motion over the toaster. Did she hear that right? Brave? Her? She was pretty sure her ears were ringing, and she had to physically shake herself to find a coherent response. "Well… I mean y'know. If you'd have seen him..."

***

Coming soon!

Hang By Every Word: The outline for my Stucky fic is still coming along but it will be awhile yet before I start writing on it in earnest. Now that “Fourth Estate” is finished and publishing, I’m ready to start picking at a new bigger fic. The basic theme (and I’m sure this has been done, but fuck it) is the undoing of Bucky’s conditioning one trigger word at a time. And each trigger word locked down a memory of Steve. So I have to write things from Steve’s point of view, and all ten memories have to be written from Bucky’s point of view, and they have to tie together into a cohesive narrative but the memories are out of order, but Steve’s time line isn’t and… It’s… a challenge. I’m still largely in the brainstorming phase… writing little snippets here and there. Nothing’s solidly taking form just yet.

A Maelstrom Whirls Below: I’m toying with the possibility of a sequel to my Darcy/Eddie/Venom fic “A Room for Rent in the Fourth Estate.” Right now it’s just some ideas and a few zippy one-liners. But I’m definitely sketching around on it and working on getting an outline going.

Other “Friendship is Unnecessary” fics at various stages:

Stand Still Awhile (formerly called “Rusalka”): Steve/Natasha set sometime before Age of Ultron. Natasha takes Steve as her +1 to a Stark gala at an art museum. The rough draft is complete and clocks in at 8.5k. I’m waffling on whether or not I want to hold onto this one until after Endgame or if I want to go ahead and get it out once I’m done with production next week.

The Night the Wall Came Down:  This is a Steve/Natasha fic set some time after Infinity War. I’ve been working on this one for several months, but it’s hit a few snags. The rough draft is nearly finished, clocking in at 7.5k, but my beta reader @kaminaduck pointed out that the opening is no longer canon compliant because of the Endgame trailers. So I’ve got to go back and do major surgery on the beginning. It’s looking likely that this one will not go live until after I see Endgame and know for sure it can match up. Especially now that I’m toying with the serious idea of doing a final fic for this series that’s post-Endgame. This will definitely will be a sad one… I’m actually using this as a mourning piece for myself for Infinity War, for what might be coming in Avengers: Endgame, and for the end of season 5 of Agents of SHIELD. 

A Little Better to Travel: A plot bunny was gifted to me where Steve and Nat go on a little motorcycle ride sometime between Ultron and Civil War. Still just batting this one around like a cat with a bit of string. Probably will be the first fic in this series to not be explicit. I just have some character stuff I’d like to work out.

Sweet and Honorable: Bucky insists on coming with Steve and Natasha to rescue Sam Wilson. Set post Civil War. This is starting to take shape in my head as a sort of work through for some of the issues that get raised in “Echo in my Soul.” We’ll see how it goes…

Untitled Final Fic: I have begun toying around with ideas for different post-Endgame scenarios. Depending on how things go, I might wrap up the series there. It will just really depend on the fallout of that movie. I’m… not looking forward to it.

[nehswritesstuffs]

One for the History Books - Part 2

Ha, lol, hey everyone you get bonus of this prompt because soon after I posted the first part, I realized I missed writing a decent chunk of it so now here it is and everybody wins… except Clara.

3882 words; takes place immediately after the bit where Clara confronts the Doctor in this weird No-Last-Christmas AU; somehow also turned into a reason for me to write more of Malcolm and Courtney talking one-on-one, which doesn’t happen often despite the fact that’s the lynchpin to the entire AU here;

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Malcolm had wondered how it was he should approach consoling his wife. The particular situation they found themselves in was unlike any he’d been in before and therefore it caused for him to be at a rare loss. He hated not knowing what to do—he wasn’t the Dark Prince of Spin for nothing, after all. It just so happened that he found himself standing in a rest stop in the middle of arse-fuck nowhere, holding his wife while she cried into his chest. A bloody police box from when he was a kid had materialized, popped out her old mate-possibly-boyfriend, and then the bastard left, making it clear that he was not just some randy bloke making a pass where he shouldn’t and that was not a police box from days gone past.

“Come on,” he insisted. “Let’s get you in the car.”

She nodded wordlessly and let him guide her back to the vehicle. He then drove until he found the first place that was open—a Waffle House—and decided that it was as good a bloody place as any. She needed to get something in her, whether that was ice cream or carbs or something that would show him she was still able to somewhat fucking function. They both went inside the diner and were seated in the corner booth by a concerned-looking waitress—fuck, she could tell Clara’d been sobbing hysterically. He excused himself before they sat and ducked inside the bathroom, giving what was undeniably space and a chance for the waitress to offer help to a woman possibly trapped. Just because he wasn’t a fucking abusive psychopath towards his family didn’t necessarily mean that all men dragging their crying wives around at night were as well. He took a piss, washed his hands, and whipped out his phone as he made his way back to the booth.

‘Mam and I decided to stop for a bit—the drive has us feeling British,’ the text read. He sent it and sat down, seeing that there were already menus and coffee waiting, Clara already partaking in both.

“Know what you’re feeling like?” he asked.

“Chips,” she said almost absentmindedly. “I think I’ll just get some chips.” She saw his phone buzz from its spot on the table and stared at it. “Daniel?”

“Yeah.” He swiped the phone open and read their son’s reply. “‘Don’t be British for too long or Toulouse and I are going to bed without you.’ That boy’s sass is getting out of control.”

“That boy’s sass is precisely the level it should be,” Clara said, her mouth twitching upwards in a smirk. Good—that was progress. “If anything, it’s on the low side, considering his pedigree.”

“At least he won’t be wondering and worrying where the fuck we are,” he shrugged. The last thing they both wanted was to go for “a long drive” and come home to find Daniel passed out after waiting up for them… or even worse, still awake. “If they have chips, do you think they’ve got some vinegar?”

“You’d have to ask,” she said. She silently reached her hand out across the table and he took it, stroking her thumb with his as they continued to browse the menu in silence. The waitress eventually came and took their order—two orders of fries and their coffees—relieving them of their menus and letting them be. Clara stared at her hand in her husband’s and exhaled heavily; there was no escape. “I guess you’ve got a lot of questions, don’t you?”

“Yeah, though I don’t know how many of them we should broach here and not wait until we’re at home while our son’s asleep or at school or over at the neighbors’,” Malcolm said. He stared at her until she met his gaze, those brown eyes still red and water-logged. “Who was he? Really?”

“John—the Doctor—is a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey,” she replied softly. “He travels in the TARDIS, that police box he popped out of, which is a bit run-down and broken, since it’s stuck on looking like that. It’s supposed to blend into its surroundings.”

“So… it could look like an American phone booth? A port-a-loo? A car? This diner?”

“Yeah… we could be eating in a TARDIS right now,” she chuckled weakly. The thought of the TARDIS turning into a Waffle House was fairly amusing, but it also presented her with a depressing option. “I fell in with him when I was fresh out of uni—he showed me the stars, showed me wonders…”

“...and you pushed him away because…?”

“It was a rough patch, after Danny died, and he knew that if I ever would need him again, I’d call,” she said. “I’ve just never felt compelled to call until now.”

“...and that was because something he did showed up in our son’s textbook.”

“No, he showed up himself,” she insisted. Clara took her phone out and found the picture she took of the image in Daniel’s book, showing it to Malcolm. “One of the things that he can do is change faces—this is a prior version of him. I know that because this is the one I first met.”

He looked at the photo and nodded—it didn’t exactly look like the man who he had just threatened, but then again, it was also increasingly sounding like his wife had shagged her way through First Contact long before they ever met. He passed her phone back as the waitress returned with their chips, along with a grimy-looking bottle of vinegar.

“This thing looks like it’s been here longer than I’ve been Stateside,” he marveled. “Does your boss keep any stock that isn’t over a decade old, or are we just piss out of luck?”

“It’s what I got,” the waitress shrugged. She seemed less wary of him, which he took as a good sign, and didn’t give him a side glance as she checked in on another table.

“Would you go with him again?” he asked quietly.

“He already asked.” She watched as he nodded at that.

“What if I wasn’t here?”

“There’s still Daniel to think of.”

“You know what I mean—what if…” He swallowed as he thought of the horrific prospect. “What if we never met?”

“I… I don’t know,” she admitted. She chewed on a fry and thought about that. “We’ve been together for so long that it’s difficult to think of my life without you anymore… without our son… without what we’ve done these past two decades. I wouldn’t trade you for anything… but I also thought the same about the Doctor.”

“Sometimes you find things that you love, but are worth letting go,” he said. “Let me tell you: if you told my wee fae journalist arse that I’d end up becoming an American for political and work reasons, I would have laughed at you while kicking you down the entire length of Parliament.” He sipped at some coffee and felt the liquid life pool in his stomach—ah, now that was some good shit. There was something about American diner coffee that simply hit him different. “As long as he was good to you while you were together, then I don’t give a fuck.”

“I didn’t think you would.”

“Then why act like it? You’re nearly everything to me, Clara, and what part of me isn’t happens to be about our boy.” He paused and looked at her, so tired and concerned, and watched her heart begin to crack. “You’re the reason why I’m here, the reason I’m a husband and a father and a senior member of a sitting senator’s strategy team. Without you… I’m nothing. Why would I be cross at you because your old boyfriend was a bent intergalactic space-tit that didn’t know what he had while he had you? If anything I should be pissed at him for abandoning you like that.”

“You have a hard enough time grasping Star Wars… who was to say you’d react positively to the Doctor?” she posed. “Besides, it’s difficult to abandon what pushed you away to begin with.”

“He should have still known better, and he didn’t, so instead now I have a fucking amazing wife and a son by her and a new lease on life that you fucking know I’m not going to let go to waste.” He touched his foot to hers, making her smile. “It takes a lot for me to overlook something as egregious as bringing a cat into the house without my realizing it.”

“Says the man who is going to be an absolute wreck when that thing dies,” she teased. “I don’t think I’ve seen you take to anything like you’ve taken to Toulouse—at least you were expecting and wanted Daniel from the beginning.”

“Mmmhmm, and the fact that cat didn’t find itself back at the pet store that same day is more than evidence that the right people brought it home,” he stated. Clara chuckled at that—for all his blustering, he was a big softie. She watched as he attempted to make the act of eating a chip look seductive—no fucking sell—and broke into a full laugh instead.

The couple made it through the remainder of their late-night snack without incident and went back to the car visibly better off than they were when they’d entered the building. After a long drive home where they chatted about everything and anything, they arrived home to find Daniel and Toulouse snuggled up on the couch together, the two sleeping to the repeated loop of the menu screen on an old DVD—a Hammer Horror that Clara expressly remembered not allowing him to watch the previous Halloween—and with a myriad of snacks littering the space around the tousled boy and his “ginger florf”, as he referred to the cat.

Malcolm and Clara let it go for the time being, as they knew the sound from the DVD menu was going to cover up the absolutely overdue round of sex they were about to get on with—it having been too long since they’d shag each other’s brains out—and the relished in the very normal and domestic situation they were in. They didn’t need a space-man to be on an adventure, and by hell they were going to prove it.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“So… Clara introduced me to someone last night.”

Courtney glanced over her papers and raised an eyebrow at Malcolm, seeing that her elder advisor was trying to be absolutely nonchalant and failing horridly. It was the tail end of their weekly private briefing, where the two confided in one another in her office with the door closed and no one allowed to come in after their afternoon tea had arrived. Few ever found out what sorts of things they discussed, and fewer yet wished to know, as they figured if it ended up being important, they’d hear about it eventually. With the cookies eaten and the drink remnants cold, they were amazingly out of work topics, which meant that personal ones were able to sneak in.

“What do you mean?” she asked, dropping her American accent for the East London she used only when they were alone and not discussing work. “Daniel told me you went on a drive last night.”

“What is my son doing texting you over my whereabouts?”

“When he asks me about which Frankenstein adaptation he should watch based on the amount of time he’s found himself with,” she quipped. “I think he went with Hammer—good taste, your boy.”

“Clara scolded him all through breakfast.”

“...and yet, it has it all: blood, tits, two of the sexiest men of the genre despite one was under nasty makeup…”

“Can we get back to my fucking crisis?”

Courtney raised her eyebrows at that—there was no bite to his words, but there was an undertone of something she rarely heard out of him. “It’s a fucking crisis now? I thought you said that Clara merely introduced you to someone, not gave you a fucking crisis.” She paused, face falling, her attention breaking from him only to check to make sure no one was listening at the door. “Is everything alright…?”

“Better than ever… just…” He ran his hand through his hair and grunted in frustration. “I met the Doctor last night… when Clara and I were out. It was why we took the drive, actually, so she could summon him.”

It was all Courtney had to not let her jaw drop all the way to her desk. “Wait, wait, wait… the Doctor…?! The old caretaker bloke from when I was a kid?! The one that let Clara slip through his fingers…?!”

“The bent space-tit who apparently thinks it’s fine to proposition a man’s wife while he’s standing right there, yeah,” he scowled. He saw Courtney’s expression morph into something he was not used to seeing when it was a private conversation and he wasn’t entirely certain he appreciated it. “It looks like you have something to fucking say.”

“Are you cross?” she wondered quietly.

“Of course I’m fucking cross, but I don’t know who the fuck to be cross at,” he scowled. “Narrowed it down to mostly the Doctor though—the cunt cannae fuck the fuck off.”

“Malcolm, your brogue’s slipping…”

“...as though the wee shites in the office would be able to tell fucking Springburn from Merkinch, and I know you’re having a hard time too based on the look on your face. Used t’run with a mate from there and let me tell yeh, even flitting all over doesn’t always take a lad from his roots.”

“That was way too terribly and cartoonishly Scottish and I’m going to need you to tone that down right now before someone hears you and gets your citizenship stripped,” Courtney groaned. Fuck—she was the one who wanted him there, after all. He grinned at her, signaling that he was still able to have her on if he wanted to do so. “Now, what the fuck happened where Clara decided to summon the Doctor, of all people, last night?”

“He popped up in Daniel’s textbook, apparently,” Malcolm shrugged, voice going back to normal. Well… it was normal to Courtney and that was what mattered. “It was jarring enough to spook my wife, who then decided to dig up a Boyfriend of Adventures Past and make certain he wasn’t meddling or trying to get her attention.” He looked at her and frowned. “Would he do that…? Pop into a history textbook…? Just to get attention…?”

“He would,” she replied solemnly. She fiddled with some papers on her desk and exhaled heavily. “Once the Doctor enters your life, it’s never the same, you know.”

“You were just a nip though… why would your life get changed that drastically?”

“Just trust me: it would.” She saw the concern in her old boss and mate’s eyes and knew that none of this could have been perceived as a joke or dicking around or whatever else might denote that this was less serious than it really was. “It wasn’t my story to tell, so it was easier on me, but I’m surprised Clara kept the secret until now; you and the Doctor do share a lot of similarities.”

“I am by far more attractive, virile, and loquacious,” Malcolm claimed, causing Courtney to snort in laughter. He leaned back in his chair casually, almost triumphantly. “What? Jealous that Miss Oswald landed the better catch?”

“Ugh, gross, far from,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “All I need to know out of you is if everything’s alright and if the Doctor’s face was somehow bloodied last night.”

“No blows were had, but there was a Waffle House waitress that was more than rightly concerned there for a bit, since I’m sure we ticked more than a couple boxes to warrant alerting the undercover cop sitting along the bar.”

That got Courtney. “Wait, you went to a Waffle House last night? Fuck, Malcolm, how far did the two of you drive?”

“Fucked if I know,” he scoffed. “We went up the Fall Line, over the Susquehanna, back—I dunno. I think we stopped in Havre de Grace. It was fucking dark.”

Now completely and empirically past the point of annoyance, Courtney began to rub her forehead in an attempt to stave off a headache. “How Clara deals with you, Malcolm, I have no fucking clue.”

“She deals with me because the sex is still amazing over twenty years on and she doesn’t have to work if she doesn’t want to, despite living in one of the most expensive places in our forcefully-adopted home,” he replied frankly.

“I really don’t need to know that you still have sex,” she shuddered.

“We did last night,” he continued, “and it was amazing. Absolutely worth the backaches we woke up with. You only wish you could have sex that great at our ages, and with a teen and a cat in the house at that.”

“You’re an ancient skeleton running off of Red Bull and pure spite.”

“An ancient skeleton that can still keep it up long enough to let his wife ride him into oblivion. Between that and the spite I can keep going for a good eight months without so much as batting an eye… and she didn’t even need to do all the work.”

“I hate you.”

“You are contractually obligated to not.”

“That’s it—I’m going to call Jamie, have him ring up the rest of the ageing Caledonia Mafia, and get a hit put out on you for deserting.”

“Now in the rare likelihood that I’m killed soon, which I won’t because no one gives a flying shit about political advisors, especially ones that look like me, this conversation will make it look like you caused it.”

“...and anyone who actually fucking knows us will be able to use their fucking brain stems and discern the fact that us speaking like this is a load of bollocks. Besides, why are you so confident in this particular instance, of all instances?”

“I’m fucking invisible, pet; white, male, old, mostly-heterosexual, wife and kid, prescription for some tiny blue pills in my pocket? If I stop rolling my Rs and using the word wee I might actually turn into a fucking ghost around these parts, for better or worse.”

“Get the fuck out of my office,” she said, throwing a pen at him. “‘Mostly-heterosexual’ my arse—you couldn’t be straighter if you were a bloody Tory.”

“You take that back!” he snapped, loving the rush he was getting from this proper spar. “You know better than to lump me in with those limp-dicked, saggy-titted, impotent sacks of shite!”

“Again: I’ll ring Our Jamie. He was the one who told me all about it! In detail I really didn’t want, thank you!”

“So then you know the truth of the matter!”

“I really don’t think it counts when you’re fucking pissed out of your goddamned fucking mind, probably also roofied to fuck and back, only to get around to trading spit and getting a blowie from someone who realized she was a woman later!”

“Don’t you sully Bernice’s name like that! She had a beard and cock at the time, and didn’t know she was a woman yet either, so you can fucking toddle off.”

“You toddle off—this is my office!”

“Maybe I will!” By now Malcolm was on his feet and headed towards the door. He just knew that for the most part, the staff was used to them ending their weekly one-on-one with shouting, so at least there was no one attempting to actively listen in. At least this instance was one where if they heard and paid even the slightest bit of attention, he’d be able to tell on their faces later. “By the way! Clara wants you over for dinner tomorrow!”

“I think your wife can invite me herself!”

“In case she forgets!”

“I’m a fucking Senator! How do you forget to talk to a fucking Senator?!”

“She’s got her own problems to worry about!” Okay, now it was just getting fucking ridiculous. “Half six?”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

“Fuck off!”

“Gladly!”

Malcolm slammed the door on his way out, everyone in the vicinity amazed he still had yet to shatter the glass windowpane. Courtney began to breathe deeply as she attempted to recenter herself back into Senator Woods—of all the things she was hoping that her old mentor never, ever brought up, the Doctor was on the top of the list.

Her mind went, thusly, back to a grubby wee secondary school in the East End of London, where her parents sent her because it was literally the only place they could go after her parents were given the sack, forcing them to move in with an elderly aunt. She remembered the boredom, the crushing realization of being groomed for mediocrity, the horror at the notion that her school—despite being filled with good mates and bright minds—rarely was able to afford basic amenities until it became a pet project not long before of some titled toff of Arnage or something…

...and then, she remembered Clara—Miss Oswald back then—and her boyfriends. Mister Pink was a sad and broken man, but one who she and all the other students could tell was healing into something better than before as he taught them maths and subtly dropped hints at the true horrors that came from when one stopped playing at soldier; while Doctor Smith was… well… a bit gruff and rough and definitely not from this planet, but made older students swoon and made the younger ones, like herself, believe that they could beat the statistics. They vied for Miss’s attention, though seemingly never tried to trap her. It was odd, that much was for certain, but it was entertainment enough for their audience of tweens and teens…

...until they both were gone.

It had been literal decades since the death of Mister Pink, the disappearance of Doctor Smith, and the depression of Miss Oswald. Now… just when she thought that there had been a form of peace brought about, Malcolm’s confession was still making her feel on-edge. She reflected her thoughts even further inwards… what could this mean for her country of circumstance and situation of choice…?

“Madam Senator?”

She glanced up and saw another staffer standing in the doorway, looking rather concerned. Courtney Woods, former Shoreditch resident melted away and Senator Woods with her American drawl resurfaced. “Yes…?”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah—don’t mind me,” she said. “You know how Tucker and I devolve into shouting matches.”

“I don’t know why you keep him around.”

“A reminder of where I’ve been, where I’ve come from, I guess.” She added a shrug for good measure in an attempt to help downplay the notion.

“You were born in Bethesda, not Loch Ness.”

“You have your quirks and I have mine,” she said, ending the conversation. “Now, what do you have for me to go home with? That looks like an annoying-as-fuck stack of papers in your hand, and I know there’s got to be more digitally.”

She went on. Things had to go on.

[ryukoishida]

QZGS | The King’s Avatar Fic: In which Wenzhou and Shaotian go on a date at a Christmas market.

Title: Urban Sweet Author: ryukoishida Fandom: Quan Zhi Gao Shou / The King’s Avatar Genre: Fluff, romance Rating: PG Character(s)/Pairing(s): Yu/Huang (Wenzhou/Shaotian) For: @syncogon A/N: Who knew my work at the Christmas market would come in handy like this? LOL! Also, I still have carousel music stuck in my head please send help.

Writing Commissions | Editing & Translation Commissions

-

Huang Shaotian’s eyes literally shine gold when he spots the carousel located in the center of the Christmas market.

“You know the merry-go-round is only for kids, right?” Lu Hanwen jeers with a knowing smirk, and as if to prove his point, the jolly sounds of children’s laughter and shouts scatter in the winter breeze as the carousel starts to turn, its red and white lights glimmering cheerfully.

“Then maybe we should buy you some tokens, huh, kid?” Shaotian doesn’t miss a beat when it comes to the youngest Blue Rain team member’s mouthy taunt.

“No thanks,” Hanwen sticks his tongue out before dashing into the crowd, disappearing into a sea of people lining up for foods and beverages amongst the small den of wooden huts that resembles a small, cozy village.

“Hey come back you little twerp, oi!”

Standing beside Shaotian with only a quiet, amused smile grazing along his lips, Yu Wenzhou glances over at the vice-captain of Blue Rain, who can only glare into the huge, swelling crowd of people helplessly as the back of Hanwen gets swallowed up as soon as he’s ten paces away from where they’re currently standing. His cheeks are tinted red — though whether that’s from the cold, chafing winter wind or Shaotian’s ire aimed towards the teenager, it’s rather difficult to tell.

“Well?” Wenzhou asks, an eyebrow arching upward in question.

Shaotian’s eyes linger on the bright, cheerful lights of the carousel before he unwillingly tears his gaze away from it, a hand reaching out for Wenzhou’s wrist with such resolution that it takes Wenzhou by surprise.

“Let’s go take a look around the market, Captain!”

“You sure?”

Shaotian pauses for a second — it’s brief but even so, his silences are usually more telling — and then nods adamantly, “I’m starving anyway. I heard there are waffles — on a stick! — and chimney cakes and churros and stuff, and I want to try them all!”

“Shouldn’t we have something savory first before getting dessert?” Wenzhou chuckles lightly while allowing Shaotian to pull him forward, and soon they both fall into steps with the crowds around them. The paths of the market are narrow and even more difficult to maneuver now that night has fallen and the number of people seem to only increase without the two men constantly bumping into each other, but Shaotian doesn’t even seem to notice how close they’re walking together, his tousled blond hair constantly tickling Wenzhou’s chin and the warmth and herbal scent of his shampoo drifting up until Wenzhou swears all he can smell is Shaotian.

“What are you even talking about, Captain?” Shaotian is shaking his head as if the captain was being foolish, his fingers still firmly encircled around Wenzhou’s wrist. “Obviously when we come to a place like this, we have to try all the sweets first. Come on, let’s line up before they sold out!”

And so for the next hour or so, the two men wander around trying out different types of European desserts: from Belgian waffles (on a stick and drizzled with chocolate sauce and syrup, and after Shaotian takes a selfie while holding the food, he gleefully takes a bite and lets out a satisfied moan as the sweet pastry melts in his mouth), Hungarian chimney cake with crumbled walnut toppings that spreads warmth onto their cold fingers while holding it and sharing it between them, to Spanish churros sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon that leave a satisfying crunch as they bite into the freshly-fried pastries.

“Oh my fucking god! Captain, look, look! Over there!”

As soon as they left one of the stalls that sells fancy, artisanal soaps and scented pouches —Wenzhou having bought a few gifts for his relatives while Shaotian trying to stay as far away as possible because all the mixed floral scents are making him sneeze like there’s no tomorrow — Shaotian shouts and points excitedly at a Christmas tree in the distance like a child who’s discovered a new toy. The warm white stringed lights are wrapped delicately around the tree, the tallest construction within the entire market, and as they flicker like prickles of starlight in the night sky, it’s as if the lights are trying to convey a secret message only to those who pay special attention.    

“Holy shit, it’s a walk-in Christmas tree, what the fuck, this is awesome!” Shaotian dashes into the hollowed tree with his phone turned to its camera setting in one hand and Wenzhou’s arm in the other.

After promising that he won’t be posting any embarrassing photos on his Weibo, Shaotian finally manages to get Wenzhou’s permission to take some selfies together inside the tree. Though Shaotian is chattering incessantly while snapping photos, Wenzhou can’t help but notice that the majority of the people inside the tree are couples doing the exact same thing he and his vice-captain are doing, and the thought of it makes Wenzhou smiles just the slightest, a corner of his lips turning subtly upwards.

“Captain, you have a really scary smile on your face just now. What’s going on? What are you scheming?” Shaotian wants to know, putting his phone inside his jacket’s pocket with a worried frown.

“That’s a rather rude assumption, Shaotian,” Wenzhou only laughs softly as they step out of the tree to let more people stream in, “I was merely thinking what a nice idea this is — having the team taking a much-needed break and having some free time to enjoy themselves.”

“So, you’re enjoying yourself, huh?” Shaotian is looking straight ahead.

“Immensely,” Wenzhou replies.

There’s still some time before meeting up with the rest of the team, so they decide to wait by the entrance, where it’s significantly less crowded than the rest of the market area. They are near the carousel, and the line-up seems to have grown even longer compared to earlier in the evening. For a brief moment, the two men simply watch in companionable silence as the carousel starts rotating, music blaring out from the loudspeakers and making it a little difficult to talk.

Other than a toddler who continues to wail and scream and flail his limbs around wildly as the mother tries her best to calm her child down and balance him on the saddle of the horse properly, most of the people riding looks incredibly happy and warm — there’s a mother holding onto her daughter’s hand sitting side-by-side on separate horses; there’s a family of four settling on one of the benches; and there are many couples and young people taking selfies and cheering as the horses take the same path over and over again beneath the blinding, blinking lights.

“Shaotian,” he calls out his name.

“Yeah?” he turns to look at the captain, head tilted to the side slightly when Wenzhou turns to face him, eyes dark and mouth smiling.

“Hold out your hand.”

“… Why?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Do you always ask such redundant questions?” Shaotian rolls his eyes and holds out his hand with a huff, palm facing skyward.

Wenzhou places two red tokens into Shaotian’s outstretched hand, and for a short second, the blond merely glances up at him with a confused scowl.  

“Um?”

“Tokens, for the carousel,” Wenzhou explains.

“I know that,” Shaotian says gruffly, his fingers closing in around the tokens to keep them safe. “I mean, why?”

“You want to ride it, right? Just treat it as a Christmas gift from me.”

“Kind of pointless if you’re not coming with me though,” Shaotian murmurs, his head lowered so that his voice is travelling straight towards the ground. He can feel his cheeks heating up even as the words leak out from his mouth, muffled by his scarf.  

“What was that?” Wenzhou steps a little closer, his warm breaths ruffling Shaotian’s forelocks.

“I said,” Shaotian’s voice grows louder, his heart bolder, and he looks up, golden eyes almost defiant and much too bright, “I want you to come ride the carousel with me, captain!”

Wenzhou’s lips curl up into a smile, an expression a little less cold, a little less calculating, a little warmer and kinder and loving.

“If that’s what you want.”

-

When Wenzhou crawls into bed that night, he does a perfunctory check of his email inbox on his phone. After that, he taps on the photo app and the first photo — the latest photo that he’s taken — pops up onto his screen, and he can’t help but smile fondly at the subject.

Shaotian was not looking at the camera when the photo was taken, but he was having the time of his life: his hair fluttering in the breeze as the carousel picked up its speed, his eyes warm and bright with exhilaration and happiness, his cheeks and the tip of his nose slightly pink from the cold, and those lips that never stop moving were frozen into a permanent grin.

He was saying something to Wenzhou at the time — something about their latest match, he thinks, though he can’t quite recall, as enthralled as he had been by Shaotian’s expression at the time — and Wenzhou had been unable to stop himself from capturing that one, single moment.

Wenzhou doesn’t update his Weibo often, but he only hesitates for a full second before he signs into his account and begins to type.  

[a-mutual-killing]

Tell me something sad? Please? Lately I've been sort of hovering over some kind of brink and I just need /something/ and I like the way you phrase stuff whenever you post your personal stories but I really, really just need something sad I think. Please?

i’ll tell you something nice before i tell you something sad:

i’ve been in love with my friend’s brother for the longest time. i’m talking i first met him when i was around eleven and haven’t stopped being in love with him since. 

anyway, a few weeks ago, he’d come into the restaurant i work at and we were making small talk when he mentioned that he’d gotten a job at the new aquarium they built the town over and how his favorite part of it is feeding the otters and just generally playing with them. we laughed over a story about how one of them bit his bum because it was upset that he hadn’t yet given it a fish. then he goes, “i’d really love to show them to you, i think you’d really enjoy it.” the way he said it made my heart fill up my entire body and turned me into a puddle because it was so fucking intimate and gentle and sweet are you kidding me. i shoved those feelings aside because it’s kind of a dick thing to flirt with your friend’s brother, especially when your friend knows you’re something of a slut. i told myself he meant it in a friendly manner. 

skipping ahead to today, i found out that we’d been mutually pining over each other, repressing whatever feelings popped up because, like a bunch of idiots, we didn’t want to put his sister in a weird spot. 

i’m to go with him for a private tour of the aquarium on friday and i think i’m going to sink through the floor i’m so, so, so very excited. 

here’s the sad bit:

(i waffled about whether this would be the right thing to share or if it was crossing some kind of weird boundary i’d drawn between myself and this site. i’ve kind of flitted around this before, though, and i think, despite it being very personal, it’s very prevalent right now for me and it’s good to share those things. i’ll consider this as throwing it away, or donating my grief to you, used as it is, junk as it might be to anyone without the sentimental connection i have to it.)

it’s not a secret that around this time last year/early this year (the year before last, too) i was very, very seriously contemplating killing myself. what i did keep close to my chest, however, is how i worked my way through that, excluding shame and guilt, or ego and what have you. 

i don’t know why this instance sticks out so prominently for me when the rest of that time blurs together, but one day i was laying in my bed, wedged between the wall and the mattress, the springs of the box spring digging into my ribs and my breath fetid and my hair greasy. i remember staring out across the garbage piled up on my floor for hours before turning away from it, disgusted by myself. my eyes fell on the ghastly rainbow ceiling fan hanging precariously over the bottom of my bed. 

i had this image, vision, whatever, of pulling myself up, tossing something over the fan blades and stepping off into nothingness. i didn’t have a picture in my head of what i’d use, if it was a rope or a blanket twisted into something skinny enough to tie into a noose. i didn’t know what i was to be stepping off of, if it was my bed, an open drawer of my bureau. i just knew that it was over as soon as it had stated but i was left with this terrible uneasy feeling because i swear i felt my muscles act out those motions, felt my throat and chin screaming, the base of my neck raw. if it hadn’t been for the springs still poking me, i don’t think i would have been able to tell what was real and what was fake. 

i scoffed at myself, ignoring the tears slowly leaking down my face, and turned back to my initial position, this time staring at the wall in front of me instead of my trash. i laughed about how even if the distance was great enough for me to successfully hang myself (i couldn’t tie my hair up in my room because every time i did, i’d bump it against the light bulb in the middle of that damned rainbow fixture), the fucking thing would come out of the ceiling under my weight. 

i think i stared at that wall for a minute or two before my fingers started itching and my mouth felt raw from all the things trying to claw their way out of me. i sat up and lifted a pile of loose leaf paper into my lap and started writing. 

i don’t know if it was that i’d remembered my older sister going to therapy and us having to write fake eulogies for her, in turn getting a letter filled with things she’d say to us before she died if she could; or if i was remembering how in a course i’d taken we’d had to write letters to people thanking them for their place in our lives, having the choice to send it or not and learning that it helps to just spit everything out sometimes; maybe it was something reminding me that my youngest sibling used to always tell me i should write an autobiography or something; but for whatever reason, what i wrote was a letter to my youngest sibling. i felt better after i’d written it. i started writing letters to them constantly, sometimes daily, sometimes spaced over weeks or months.

this is a a chunk from the one i wrote january 30th, 2019, the only bit of it i have in my possession, actually (some parts of it might be confusing because i’m not giving you the background pieces required to really sink into it, but i don’t think that’s important): 

Looking back, life seems somewhat easy, doesn’t it? Or have I wrapped an ugly thing once more in a beautiful packaging, decorated a molding cake in bright coloring to hide the fact that it is, indeed, rotted? I have a propensity to do so. 

I know there must have been bad times, just as there must be something I have a fond memory of, but they all just blur together. I know bad things have happened - I can recount them. I know there have been good experiences - I can recall those, too. I can’t, though, remember the emotions in them beyond what I imagine life through the eyes of a doll would be. Surely I have laughed and cried, but the constant pressure in my head makes those times feel dull and unreal. It’s dissociation, I know. I wonder who I would be without it, if I didn’t feel strangely removed from everything.  Every time I smile, it feels like something is pulling up the corners of my mouth from over my shoulders. It’s hard to cry. 

Sometimes, I think about the way you seem hesitant to laugh. I take in the way you avoid people’s gazes one day and then make nothing but eye contact the next. I wonder if you’ve experienced the same things I have. Has anybody told you your laugh is too big? Your eyes are too unsettling? I know they’ve tried to shame the anger out of you. I’m glad they haven’t managed that yet. Your anger is, sometimes, the only thing you have to keep you going, and there should never be a moment where you are ashamed of that. 

I wonder, too, if I’m just weak. I know it’s embarrassing for me to look at my younger [sibling] and envy the way you seem to carry on despite the weight laid over your shoulders. It should be the other way around, shouldn’t it? You most definitely shouldn’t have had to grow up so fast. I wonder if you will be drawn into the same deep pond i’m currently tied to the bottom of. Will you surround yourself with stuffed animals and soft blankets with even softer pajamas just to give you a tactile reminder that the world is real, that you are real? I hope not. One of the things I hate most about myself is the way I can never seem to get over stroking my fingers across surfaces just to experience their presence and therefore know that my own is real. 

I wonder when I become so needy? When did I start needing to feel things just to assure myself of my own being? I remember life used to unapologetically fill every crater in my being; I used to take up more space than I needed and laugh at the people who would push me to be smaller; my laugh would be as loud as my joy was big; my eyes were just my eyes. I wonder when my shoulders gained this stoop. When did my laugh change from earth shattering to airy? Why are my eyes no longer just eyes? 

My hands are no longer steady, like they were the first letter to you. My eyes are still dry, though there is a prickling behind my lids. My organs have stopped trying to push their way out of my mouth - they’ve settled for the base of my throat, and to be curled in my sternum. Is it the thought of weakness that’s making it so? Is it the thought of how you might take it? Is my body trying to tell my mind it’s not ready to die just yet?  I wonder why being weak unsettles me more than the thought of death. Is it because death hasn’t been a stranger to me in such a long time? You and he have crossed paths more often than you should have, as well. Do you no longer shy away from his company? 

Uncle John died not but thirty-six days ago. You’ve had friends die. Will it crush you if your sister dies, as well? I hope not. It isn’t your fault. Your grief shouldn’t be your ruin. 

Should I tell you some of my grief? I’ve carried it around for a while. Maybe it will help you to know about it. Maybe not. I don’t know if I’m ready for anyone to know it so intimately. Perhaps that’s why I’ve gotten to this point. I can’t exactly hate myself for it. I’ve always been greedy - what’s one more thing to keep for myself?

[whatever i’d written between these is lost to me]

Regardless of how I’ve treated you, know that I’ve cherished you. 

Regretfully, 

[My Name]

this is from march 25th, 2019:

It’s 10:44 p.m. right now. I woke up three hours ago. I know I won’t fall asleep for another nineteen. 

I’m so cold. All the time. “That’s nothing new, [My Name],” you’ll say, “you’re always cold.” This is different. It doesn’t go away, no matter how many layers I put on or how close I sit to the heater, it doesn’t go away. Maybe it’s inaccurate to call it a chill. There’s just this wrongness settled in my flesh that I can’t get rid of. It makes my fingertips tingle. 

I’ve just finished crying into a bowl of cucumbers - the only thing I’ve eaten today. It was over a TED talk, but I’m not so sure how much of it was because of the talk and how much of it was because of me.

those are the only bits i have with me here and, see, i’ve since stopped writing those ‘letters’ (😂 in the one from march, i go on a tangent about how i’m not even sure what i’m writing anymore, or who i am writing them for)–i can’t even remember when the last time i did was–but the thing that’s nausea inducing about the whole thing is that the rest of whatever i’d written is still in my room, at my parents house. the room that they’ve been steadily pawing through for the past however long. my mother is going to read those letters and for some reason i feel disgusted thinking about it. 

maybe it’s only sad for me, personally, but who knows, bro.