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elves-n-angels · 4 years

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How Sebastian Stan Went From Winter Soldier to 'Winter Swoldier'

To keep up with the Chrises, Stan upgraded his diet, training, and worldview. And 2020 is shaping up to be his best year ever.

BY LAUREN LARSON

DEC 19, 2019

THE COFFEE-SHOP staff is having a silent meltdown. The peppermint tea I ordered was forgotten as soon as Sebastian Stan walked in. He orders a coffee, receives it instantly, and goes to put it down on a table. The lid isn’t fully on, and the coffee spills. It’s almost a “stars are just like us” moment, but then a barista suddenly materializes with a paper towel in his outstretched palm. “It’s wet,” he says eagerly.

Stan, 37, is wearing black shorts, a black T-shirt, midcalf black socks, and a gray hoodie missing its drawstring. He looks very off-duty SoHo, which he is: He’s back home in New York City on furlough from preparations for The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, an extravagant collaboration between Marvel and newborn streaming service Disney+.

He’s also wearing a blue baseball cap, which sits slightly higher on his head than it might on the head of someone with less va-va-voom hair. That hair sent the Internet into a tizzy recently, when a poster for Falcon showed Stan with a short cut. In the past when Stan has played the Winter Soldier (né Bucky Barnes), he’s had shoulder-length hair. Next to his forehead, which is giant—the White Cliffs of Dover of foreheads—the longer style made him look very sinister.

Stan is somewhat less recognizable in street clothes, but women still side-eye him on their way to the bathroom. Maybe they recognize him; maybe he’s just a little too strapping not to be famous.

As Stan talks, he maintains an unsettling deadpan, verging on a glower. “People always ask me if I’m okay,” he says, still glowering. “They’ve said I have ‘serial-killer resting face.’ No matter what I do, I’ve always had dark circles under my eyes that never really go away. Lately there might be a little moisturizer happening here and there, just in case. Preserving a couple years, or whatever.”

The more reserved the actor, the more likely he is to become part of Hollywood mythology. Between Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014) and Captain America: Civil War (2016), a rumor circulated that he had gotten too ripped for the arm he’d worn in the earlier film, a wraparound contraption meant to look like a machine prosthetic. Redditors called him “the Winter Swoldier” and “Bulky Barnes.”

Stan laughs when I bring it up and clarifies that he used a new-and-improved arm in each successive film. With the first iteration, he had to apply lube to slide his real arm into what was essentially two rigid metal tubes. “It was like having a massive hammer attached to me,” he says, “but it looked unbelievable in the movie, and it actually informed a lot of my body language.”

Subsequent arms were more mobile, and Stan doesn’t have to lube up to get in there anymore: There’s a sleeve inside the arm for his next appearance as the Winter Soldier. But, he concedes, he did get too big for the arm used in Civil War. “I was so insecure being around these massive fucking guys, so I started lifting really heavy and ate a lot. I remember I showed up, and I was a little bit bigger than I had been in The Winter Soldier. The arm was a bit tight,” he says. “I was losing circulation.”

Stan is not a new arrival in the Marvel universe: He made his superhero debut in 2011, with Captain America: The First Avenger. But recently he’s enjoyed a burgeoning late-term fandom as his roles (and arms) have ballooned. Beyond Marvel, he starred alongside Margot Robbie in 2017’s I, Tonya, as Tonya Harding’s jackass boyfriend. When we meet in October, he’s just returned from shooting the spy film 355 in London, with Jessica Chastain, Penélope Cruz, Lupita Nyong’o, and Diane Kruger. Another insecurity-inspiring roster.

With Stan’s constellation of anxieties—he says he’s “terribly self-aware, to the point of detriment”—he is uniquely suited to stardom in 2020. A decade ago, audiences wanted actors to be pillars of Hollywood hubris, strutting around in latex Marvel suits, muscly and impenetrable. We still want the muscles, but we also want stars to be genuine.

Marvel films can seem at odds with that national craving for authenticity. Steve Rogers, for example, becomes Captain America instantly, in the first ten minutes of The First Avenger: He goes into a machine and emerges fit, huge, and self-actualized. I ask Stan whether that narrative—man gets muscles and immediately earns the admiration and attraction of everyone in his midst—isn’t a dated, unrelatable picture of masculinity.

“When I was watching Steve Rogers,” Stan starts in, “I saw him question his identity, his alliances, the government. ‘Who am I? What is this? What made me come into this is very different than the role I am in now.’ I think it was very timely, in the sense that you could see that character evolve. Then he gives up his shield and is like, ‘I’m out. I’m going to do my own thing.’ He chooses his own life. It’s actually more relatable.”

There’s an obvious metaphor there: Stan is Captain America, and stardom—and the press tours, the scrutiny, and the training that come with it—is his government, always invading his carefully fortified sense of self. As a result, he can appear very reticent in public, offering only occasional glimpses of the unguarded Sebastian Stan. Audiences live for those moments.

Stan is the anti-celebrity in the year of the anti-celebrity.

And his ambient hostility toward questioning is offset by the behavior of his Falcon costar Anthony Mackie. When alone in interviews, Stan can seem deflective and bored, but he gets an enormous kick out of Mackie, who has jumped in to rescue many an interviewer left to writhe on the hook by Stan. He is the Sebastian Stan whisperer, midwife to a charm that can be difficult to coax out.

“When I’m trying hard to find the honest moment, he sort of unlocks me a little bit. We both laugh and we find a way to have a good time,” Stan says. When I tell him that I’m planning to mine Mackie for gossip, he laughs. “Here’s what he’s going to say: ‘He’s way too serious. It’s boring. He slows everything down. It’s always these questions and, like, the stare. Give this kid a Yoo-hoo! Somebody get him a chocolate milk. Good God, put a smile on his face!’ ”

Mackie is the enthusiastic extrovert to Stan’s pensive recluse. Even though I reach him on the phone at 9:00 p.m. after a long day of shooting in Savannah—“I’m already going to bed,” Mackie says in a N’awlins drawl that sounds sleepier than usual—he’s forthcoming about Stan. He describes his costar as a hermit, a chronic Irish-goodbye-er who doesn’t offer much of himself at first. “If the FBI ever needed to get anything out of him, they’d be in very big trouble,” Mackie says. “I don’t know what the male equivalent would be of ‘resting bitch face,’ but Sebastian has nailed that 100 percent.”

His first impression, which lingered for a long time, was that Stan was a very quiet, very reserved actor. They shook hands when they met, but it wasn’t a buddy-com bromance at first sight. It wasn’t until much later, when the two were on a press tour for The Winter Soldier, that they hit it off. Mackie hung out with Stan and a few of his closest friends, and they “unlocked” Stan for Mackie the same way Mackie now unlocks Stan on press tours.

Their chemistry also plays well on set. They share a dedication to their work, and they both come from classical acting backgrounds. (“He went to Juilliard,” Stan says of Mackie. “He can do anything.”) Beyond that, they’re opposites, reining in each other’s moods to a perfect, workable middle. “He calms me down when I’m ready to rage against the machine,” Mackie says. In turn, Mackie bullies Stan into having fun.

Case in point: When they were on a press tour in Beijing, they had one of those endless nights that make press tours seem glamorous. “It just went on and on and on,” Mackie recalls. “We had to do press the next morning, and he’s like, ‘I’m going to bed.’ I’m like, ‘Nope.’ I took his wallet and his cell phone so he couldn’t get into his hotel room. Then, by the time we got to the press, I was fine. He just looked like he’d gotten hit by a car.”

Hollywood has always relished actor partnerships—from Robert Redford and Paul Newman to Ben Stiller and Owen Wilson—but now more than ever, buddying up feels like an imperative. Pairs perform, especially on social media. In November, when Stan and Mackie took over Marvel Studios’ Instagram to announce that they’d begun filming Falcon, fans were as thirsty for their friendship as they were for the show. Their dynamic is the stuff of memes: “[I] want someone to look at me the way Sebastian Stan and Anthony Mackie look at each other,” one fan tweeted.

I know what that fan meant. When Stan does look at you without suspicion—when, perchance, he laughs at something you say—it’s like winning a battle.

WHEN IT COMES to fitness, Stan has also benefited from the influence of a charismatic spirit guide. He played soccer and basketball at his Rockland County, New York, high school, but he didn’t start running and going to the gym until he was in college at Rutgers University. And he didn’t get really into fitness until 2005, when he was cast in a film titled The Covenant, which Stan calls “really classic.”

Really classic, indeed: The Covenant also stars Chace Crawford, whom Stan would later join on Gossip Girl (another classic), and Taylor Kitsch. Stan plays one of five prep-school boys endowed with supernatural gifts and sick abs.

“I got a call,” Stan says. “And one of the producers said to me, ‘Look, you’re going to have to look like John Travolta in Staying Alive.’ He’s just glistening with muscles. It’s ridiculous. I was like, ‘Oh my God.’ I started to work out with a trainer, but it was my buddy

Taylor Kitsch who got me into it.” With the trainer and Kitsch as his gym shepherds, Stan began exercising in earnest.

Then, in 2013, ahead of The Winter Soldier, Stan teamed up with trainer Don Saladino, who’d also sculpted Ryan Reynolds, John Krasinski, and Liev Schreiber. That same year, Stan starred in a Broadway revival of William Inge’s Picnic, playing a character whose defining trait is his hotness.

“Inge was writing something very important about vanity and how people were perceived in terms of being quote-unquote good-looking, beautiful, or pretty,” Stan said in a Playbill interview in 2013. “In the play, there’s something shameful and dirty about it. Our obsession with beauty has not changed. When we see something that turns us on, we either appreciate it or judge it. It’s so primal. We still dismiss people if they’re pretty; we don’t care how they feel, because they should just be happy looking the way they do. That’s something we were trying to say with this production.” Stan is less philosophical about his Picnic bod these days. “I had to be basically shirtless every night, like eight shows a week,” he says. “I really zoned in on diet, and everything transformed.”

He prefers exercising on an empty stomach, so he generally starts his day with coffee—and a rice cake with some almond butter and honey if he’s feeling depleted. Today he was feeling very depleted, he says, so he had some scrambled eggs with Brussels sprouts and aioli. “I’m not going to tell you the place where I got that,” he adds, unprompted and wary, as though I might start dining there daily in a stalker vigil.

Stan is a proponent of “quality over quantity,” but that doesn’t mean he skimps on his workouts; he just knows that a 20-minute session that catapults his heart rate into the red zone is as effective as an hour of low-intensity bullshit. He runs (“I’m not going to tell you where”) when he’s feeling meditative.

In advance of the Falcon shoot, Stan started lifting weights every morning and knocking out stunt training for the fight scenes. He points out that filming an action movie is a workout in itself: You spend whole days running around and sweating in a heavy suit. “I mean, next to Evans and Hemsworth and all those guys, I feel like I’m 50 miles behind. I don’t think I can get to that size, to be honest,” he says. That aside, Stan feels, in his late 30s, better than ever. “My body right now is probably the best it’s ever been.”

THERE'S A PHOTO of Stan, age 15, on his Instagram. It’s a headshot from Stagedoor Manor, an acting camp that he attended while in high school. He’s recognizable from the brow up—he has the same broad forehead, the same voluminous hair. His arms look pale and soft, like overcooked linguine, and he’s staring down the camera with theater-kid intensity.

Stan lived in Romania until he was eight years old. Shortly after the Romanian revolution, he and his mother moved to Vienna and stayed there for four years before heading to New York in 1995. No, he says, he didn’t have a foreign exchange student’s social cachet in middle school. “Maybe if I was from France or something. But I am Eastern European. We left communism,” he says. “When I came here, I just wanted to be like everybody else.”

I ask Stan which of his mannerisms are typically Romanian. “You’re kind of putting me on the spot to define a whole nation—a guy who hasn’t been there for years,” he says. But he thinks for a second. “For me, based on my mother, the ‘Romanian temperament’ is perseverance—being able to handle more than you think you can. At 27, my mother was working two jobs in a foreign country where she barely spoke the language. There’s a sense of family and perseverance that’s deeply ingrained in the blood.”

Even for someone who has experienced a certain degree of stardom, Marvel fans can be a shock to one’s sense of family. Certain Marvel stars acquiesce to the attention on some level, greeting fans with a Chris Hemsworthian openness to scrutiny. Stan’s boundaries are reflexive and firm, as though his sense of self is always under attack. (Which, to be fair, it may well be: “He’s so reserved,” Mackie says, “but in this day and age that’s a very good quality.”)

Stan is more protective of his personal life than most actors. Celebrities often use social media to dispense calculated chunks of themselves in exchange for privacy. Stan occasionally opens up on Instagram: “Been working with this guy through years of self judgement and mental wars when it comes to fitness and LIFE,” he wrote of Saladino in a caption accompanying a gym selfie. But questions about the people in his orbit ping ineffectually against his poker face.

He attributes this to only-vaguely-alluded-to incidents in which his family and friends were subject to public attention. As a public figure, he has opted into that attention, he explains, but they haven’t. It upset him when they were the targets of scrutiny, particularly when that scrutiny came from his fans. Stan seems to be looking for earnestness in an industry that, on the whole, disdains earnestness. He “tries hard to find the honest moment,” as he himself puts it (much like how he saw a profound statement about “our obsession with beauty” in William Inge’s horny play).

In this, the Marvel universe is an improbably good fit for him. We speak the week after Martin Scorsese said Marvel films “are not cinema,” and Stan is as defensive of the films as he can be without disrespecting Scorsese, one of his heroes. “All I know is that all movies affect people,” he says. “I’ve certainly experienced firsthand many people who have been affected and helped by Marvel movies.”

Captain America fans lean earnest. People have told Stan that Bucky Barnes helped them cope with their PTSD. During Q&A sessions, he’s asked questions like “What would Bucky Barnes’s major be?” and “What happened to Bucky Barnes when he fell from the train?” Stan fields those questions without sarcasm or diversion.

“They think we are these people,” Stan says, again without condescension. He’s content to take questions about Bucky Barnes, especially if it distracts fans from asking questions about Sebastian Stan. “Now we’re much more obsessed with the personality rather than the actor. We take people and swallow them and digest them and chew them up, and then we spit them out the other side. Then we’re done,” he says. “We’ve done that with numerous celebrities—people. I’ve seen people have massive ups and downs and stuff. All I can do is just try to be as honest as I can. And do my job.”

Men's Health Magazine, December 19, 2019.

#sebastian stan #bucky barnes #winter soldier #mens health #long post

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cosmic-navel-gazin · 4 years

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In which I chronicle my Legacy of Kain journey and bridge it with your boy Adam Warlock! (Part 5 of many, and MASSIVE, I MEAN, HUMOUNGOUS SPOILERS for Soul Reaver 2 and the 1970’s Warlock)

Awwwwwwwww yeah we are going there, these compositions are most definitely on purpose.

This is where I realize that my true purpose in this world is to draw and talk about obscure or forgotten works of fiction, and I embrace this destiny.

Ladies and gents, laughing times are over (not really though), sh*t gets very real again.

I guess it’s a bit late for this but if you have even the slightest interest in checking any of these properties out, do yourself a favor and go experience them first hand. If you just want to see me lose my mind and don’t really care about spoilers then please, proceed.

You know, when I started this little crossover of sorts, I was just having a laugh you know? It was just a cute little thing, I’ll write this one post and maybe I’ll get enough material for a second one and that’s it. THIS IS THE SEVENTH POST (even though it says Part 5).

Never, and I do mean never in my wildest dreams did I think I would be here one day, talking about having your past and your time-travelling-future selves meet and clash, of seeing your sanctimonious attitude and overall the worst about yourself personified and given free reign to go on bloodthirsty crusades showing off how much of a hypocrite you’ve bee- but wait, I am getting a bit ahead of myself.

I’ll get there I promise, let’s go back a bit.

Where we last left off, we managed to travel back to an even more distant past than we’ve been before. To the time of the great Vampire Purge, so that Raziel can meet this infamous ancient vampire who knows all the lore and might have the answers we seek on what exactly is causing the corruption of our world.

As we step out into this era of History we notice the fields covered with the Sarafan Order banners, and the impaled corpses and chopped-off heads of vampires. No different no doubt from the kindness vampires showed mankind later when they gained the upper hand during Kain’s 1.000 year old reign. Raziel seems a bit distraught by the sight since he assumed the Sarafan to be virtuous and heroic:

“For all the butchery of Moebius’s crusade, this massacre was somehow more chilling. The killing fields of the Sarafan betrayed a kind of orderly ruthlessness, the cold-blooded righteousness of the true believer.”

“Here at last in the flesh, I beheld my former brothers-in-arms, the warrior-priests of the Sarafan order; their lives devoted solely to the annihilation of the vampire plague. And while I confess I felt a twinge of longing, a pang of grief for what I had believed was my lost virtue, I regarded them now with none of the reverence I formally felt. For I had seen the human face of the vampires, and now I beheld the monstrousness of these men.”

While on the topic of genocidal holy wars, my boy Adam here had a bit of a run with a similar pious little group that goes by the name of Universal Church of Truth, who were going about doing a bit of cleaning throughout the galaxy:

Things don’t go so well:

Interestingly enough, I’ve learned of a deleted cutscene for Soul Reaver 2 that plays out very similarly to Adam’s first encounter with this “holy” order. There was this minor female vampire character that was being hunted down and would be executed by vampire hunters right in front of Raziel.

This scene was probably removed because they knew that almost 20 years later there would be some asshole on the internet trying to compare their games to obscure marvel comics of the 70’s.

But yeah bummer for Adam here, we’re a couple of pages in and he’s already failed to save someone. However, through the power of the Soul Gem, he’s able to retain her soul for a brief moment, letting us know more about these holy inquisitors:

Some of these methods don’t seem that far off from the Sarafan, especially on the twisting of good intentions part, but on a galactic scale:

Aye, a great bunch o’ fellas all around, if you submit and “fit in”:

Damn.

Hush Adam, I’ll get back to your predicament give me a moment. I just want the good people at home to keep both this church and the Magus, the god they worship in mind for later.

Now, back to the game. In the Sarafan Stronghold during the first hour of gameplay, Raziel made comments on the vampire he’s currently seeking while looking at some stained glass depictions:

“So this was the legendary Janos Audron - reputed to have been the most ancient and diabolical vampire to have ever existed. According to folklore, he lived high in the cliffs of Nosgoth’s northern mountains, and preyed mercilessly on the defenseless villagers below. His reign of terror ended when the Sarafan finally hunted him down and tore his throbbing heart from his still-living body. (…) But I wondered - could Janos Audron truly have been as monstrous as depicted here? Or was this merely artistic licence by the Sarafan, who sought to lionize themselves by demonizing their darkest enemy?

Keep these stained glass images in mind, they’ll also be important shortly. Neetheless to say, the hype was very real to meet this Janos Audron.

And as I kept hearing about this gentleman, I thought: “I really love this cast of pricks, where everyone speaks in half truths and is hiding something and has some hidden agenda, but you know, I kind of wish there was some slim ray of hope, of goodness and honor, just some good old plain chivalry and honesty. Maybe this Janos lad won’t be as bad as he was depicted back in the Sarafan Stronghold.”

It took us a while but we’re finally make it to his retreat.

I really love the entire segment, the hopelessness and feeling of dread while making your way through this place, probably my favourite puzzle area of the game. I also really love the music and architecture here.

When we do make it to the top, BOY OH BOY were my prayers answered!

Lo and behold, enter Raziel’s new daddy/mentor figure, my man JANOS AUDRON! Proabably the one decent and kind creature I’ve seen yet in these games (if you don’t count helpless human npcs who are just trying to live their lives but are caught in all these wars, slaughter and destruction).

FINALLY an understanding, moderate, compassionate man in the midst of all the lies and deception. I love him! Oh and he has what seems to be a Romanian accent. Maybe a nod to the granddaddy of all vampires: Dracula? I think his design is cool as well, so that helps.

Before we go into huge lore dumps and while on the topic of having a brief father/mentor figure for your protagonist when he’s utterly lost, alone and confused, I thought I’d bridge it with Adam’s own once foster parent, the High Evolutionary:

From the few minutes you get to know these dads they’re very different characters with different backstories and motivations. Janos is this sad lonely old man, the last of the ancient vampires and one who has been keeping himself alive solely for his sense of duty.

While the High Evolutionary was once a man called Herbert Wyndham who performed an experiment that evolved him into a godlike being. This experience proved to be such an assault on his senses and perceptions that he chose to encase himself in this armour. Like the name suggests he is obsessed with genetic manipulation and tampering of various kinds, it is his life’s ambition.

Despite his somewhat villainous appearance, he’s never portrayed as such from what little I’ve read, he’s just…a bit creepy. Like, he takes Adam in and is super stoked about adopting him, but he also values him not so much as a person per se as you and me would, but more as one would value an impressivly carved piece of work:

I don’t know, maybe it’s his metal face that doesn’t emote much; his sometimes questionable morality; maybe it’s the fact that Adam was 5 years old at this point, a baby boy, and this pink armoured deity is super hyped about him; there’s something a bit unsettling about this guy. Have some more dubious quotes I’ve stumbled upon:

All in all, I think he did care about him, in his own strange way:

Anyway, what’s important is that these adoptive dads serve a somewhat similar purpose, and that is to push/urge our ”“”“"heroes”“”“” (I say with many quotation marks) into a more benevolant role: to guide them in their messianic mission and save a corrupted world. Basically there to provide a chance for them to be good boys. Up until now their track record leaves much to be desired, and they’ve been quite lost on what they’re supposed to be and do.

Raziel:

“So it’s all true, then - what Kain and Vorador have told me - I really am some kind of unholy vampire messiah…”

Janos:

“Unholy? -no. Messiah… perhaps.”

Raziel:

“I don’t like that word - it smells of martyrdom.”

Janos:

“Raziel, your role in this world’s destiny is more crucial - and more benevolent - than you’ve allowed yourself to believe. Your journey will not be easy - dark powers are allied against you.”

Oh and both dads give their sons their toys (Soul Reaver and Soul Gem):

Back to the meeting with Janos, we finally learn tons of things, both new and others that have been hinted at throughout, namely:

Janos has been living a life of a recluse, alone, on top of the Aerie;

Janos knows of Raziel (some old legend I think) and has been waiting for him to hand him over the Soul Reaver, saying it is the key to save Nosgoth;

The Pillars of Nosgoth were erected by the ancient vampires and they were the rightful guardians. Janos was called to be th 10th guardian, the Keeper of the Reaver;

Over time this ancient race started to die out, with their history slowly being forgotten;

Humanity prospered and since the Pillars choose their guardians from birth and vampires were no longer born, humans were called to be their guardians but were “wholly ignorant of their true purpose.”

The Circle of human guardians is led to believe (by whom we do not yet know) that vampires are a cancer in the world. Janos warns that “with their vampire purge, the members of the Circle have assaulted the very architects of the Pillars they are sworn to protect (…) With every vampire they kill, the humans are slitting their own throats.”

Janos being a cool level-headed guy here when Raziel says he must hate mankind for all the suffering they’ve brought to him:

“They fear what they don’t understand; and they despise what they fear. But no - I do not hate them.”

I find it funny how Raziel asks if humanity should be forgiven for trying to exterminate the vampire kind and doesn’t realize that: one, he himself was exterminating vampires just a couple of moments ago back in SR1; and two, how he is just like how Janos describes humanity to be:

“They don’t understand what they’re doing. They are simply unenlightened… and vulnerable to manipulation.”

Again, this last line, completely unlike a certain blue shambling corpse I know. Not like him AT ALL.

Then, as they head inside, we learn something odd as Janos presents Raziel with the Reaver. You see, the two times Raziel has been close to the Soul Reaver still in its physical form, reality started to bend and distort (I show it off in this previous post).

When we met Kain and decided not to kill him, he explained that when: “two incarnations of the blade meet in time and space, a paradox is created, a temporal distortion powerful enough to derail history”

This distortion, or sense of displacement however, is nowhere to be found now when Janos presents the blade to him. Raziel feels nothing and says that “this nothingness is somehow worse…” and to get it away from him.

We learn the Reaver was forged by the same ancient vampire race that erected the Pillars (which we’ve seen hinted at when we explored the land and came accross all sorts of old murals).

But now THIS is when the game first impales me through the heart.

Me and Janos are interrupted by the Sarafan warriors who arrive carrying Moebius’ Staff (which disables vampires to the point of being barely able to move at all).

And of course! OF COURSE! Of course the moment my boy Raziel finds a truly positive influence in his life to guide and enlinghten him, and that was willing to put himself in danger in order to save him… he is axed! HEART RIPPED FROM HIS CHEST!

And by whom you ask? Who would do such a deed and kill my last ray of hope?

WHY, ME!

TWICE!

“Me” because I was the one to open an entrance to Janos’ up until then impenetrable retreat, and literally me: human Raziel of the Sarafan that lived during this time period and was head inquisitor!

A bit different from what was depicted back at the Sarafan Stronghold, we found several centuries later (putting the same image here again so you don’t have to scroll up to compare, am I swell or what?):

The Sarafan escape with Janos’ heart and the Reaver, while wraith Raziel has a final moment with Janos.

This part destroys me:

Raziel:

“Forgive me; I’m sorry… I failed you.”

Janos: (gently)

“No, Raziel. Perhaps this was my true purpose - simply to save your life this once.”

Raziel: (distraught)

“While I have taken yours…”

That last bit is probably my favourite line-read in the entire series so far (which is the most impossible thing to choose since there are so many great ones). But I think it’s the overwhelming sadness in Raziel’s voice that makes it memorable, you’ve never seen him feel like this for another creature.

Breaks my stone hardened heart every time I listen to it. And here’s why I think it’s an effective emotional scene, even though we only get a few minutes with Janos before he is murdered - it is because of contrast. Up until now everyone you meet is some degree of a bad or manipulative person, and you don’t really have a true friend or someone to confide in, there’s no one that really brings out the best in Raziel and it sucks because there is potential there. So when you introduce the apparently only decent and noble person in this god forsaken land and you’re so used to by now suspect and mistrust everyone, it is impactful because he was truth and honesty in a sea of deception and moral relativism. He was my light in the midst of the fog and the one who saw good in me. And right when you’re finally relaxing and getting confortable the game pulls the rug from under you.

Now, while on the topic of having your past and future meet, there was a little something about the meeting between Adam and the Universal Church of Truth that I’ve been saving up until now. If you remember, Adam was interrogating the young woman who was killed by the inquisitors about the church and the god they worship. When suddenly:

Good news is, Adam must’ve taken a left turn somewhere and ended up on the set for “Monty Python’s Life of Brian”, where he learned some latin:

This helped him quickly figure out the Magus’ identity:

Learn your dead tongues kids, you never know when it might come in handy when meeting your time travelling, thousands of years old future-self:

So as you can se, we have a similar self-discovery journey going on but reversed in a way. In Raziel’s case you play as his future self, who time travels back in time, meets his past self and sees what a hypocrite he’s been his entire life. In Adam’s case you follow his present self, who meets the Magus (his future self), who has travelled back in time 5.000 years, in which time he has built his empire. Meeting and confronting said empire/future self, leads Adam to see what a hypocrite he’s been his entire life. You see, both Adam and Raziel have always been their own worst enemy (their own shortcomings and character flaws). So it would be only natural that we get embodiments of the worst in them: Raziel, the human Sarafan Warrior and the Magus, their past and future selves respectively.

Oof, this was a long one, and I’ve reach the character limit. In the next post I’ll elaborate more on their characters and different selves; and we go through the roller-coaster of emotions that is the endgame for both these stories.

Look foward to me losing my mind even further while I go into time travelling, paradox shenanigans… oh, and look foward to happier times with COSMIC SUICIDE! See you in the near future.

#the infinity legacy #legacy of kain #soul reaver 2 #raziel #adam warlock #the magus #marvel comics #marvel cosmic #this post drained my spirit #my fan art

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erikthedead · 3 years

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entry #4

Started reading FYODOR DOSTOYEVSKY’s ‘Notes from the Underground,’ and I just got into the second half of him rambling and reflecting on his behaviour in detail. I never would have thought a Russian man from the 19th century would make me feel a little bit less alone in this world (or at least the ‘character’ delivering the narrative). Yet the more I read about what goes on in peoples’ heads the less insane I feel, or at least comforted by realising that everyone is a little bit insane, as long as they’re being honest. Should that be comforting? I feel like that should actually be disturbing, but I kinda like being disturbed. The bit that struck me to get writing about myself was how he recurringly mentions this need to be seen and heard and be a noble member of society, but flip flops between that and a state of isolating himself and being a recluse, ashamed by how his own face looks. I hope I’m interpreting it right, as I’m not so sure I’m smart enough to fully understand everything the man was trying to convey. The whole thing reads as him trying to make sense of himself, if anything. But if I am right in that, I can totally relate, and it causes me much distress as it seemed to have tormented him too. His way was to throw himself into busy streets and bars, never feeling comfortable with it from what I’ve read, and possibly did it on purpose to feel uncomfortable, because he was getting bored with the current discomfort of isolating himself in his room with his books. That’s the interesting thing about it, he never once says he ‘leaves the comfort’ of his own home, like you’ll hear many well-adjusted introverts say. People who are content on their own. He obviously wasn’t content, he was bored, sick of his own brain, he tells us how he would break down into tearful fits from some sort of mental anguish that he tried to escape from through consumption of literature. I do exactly the same thing with media of all kinds, not because I ENJOY spending time with myself and my things, but because it helps me COPE with it. I am so envious of consistently introverted people who relish in their alone time. That SHOULD BE ME. All the same, it annoys me to death when someone complains about being ‘stuck in the house’ all day when they want to go out and mingle and see the world, because that is too exhausting a thing to wish for compared to creature comforts and solitude, surely. Both of them irritate me because I’m jealous of their seemingly consistent understanding of themselves, their desires and what makes them content on a regular, general basis. I’ve been trying to hard to figure out my own. I’m twenty-six now, yet I still feel juvenile as hell. I still feel like a child that goes up to the next thing that catches its eye and wants to ask, ‘can I have a go?’ And of course, to an innocent child, you let them have a go, without any expectations. You don’t get that luxury as an adult. You are expected to choose, commit, KNOW what you want. But again, I can’t help but think this isn’t me being special, that everyone probably feels this way, you certainly hear it from a lot of old people who humbly state that they are still always learning and discovering new things. Then again maybe they miss the point. Discovering things is fine, all the time. Learning is appreciated and encouraged. But actually changing or choosing not to change (both can be bad, right?), that is unsettling. We’ve given up good and evil for behaviourism and yet still people like me, Fyodor and to name a few other people I relate to when I read their autobiographies, Russell Brand, Stephen Fry, Steve-O (oh yes I compare myself to the greats, in all my unheard mighty feats), people like us can’t even get that right. Creative, expressive, bipolar people. People with big heads and sensitive souls, I’d say. Although I connect deeply to people like this I’d never want to be around them for too long. I know their torment and quite frankly my own is enough to contend with. There is a feeling of ‘pay attention to me but leave me alone.’ ‘Love me more than anything but don’t care too much about me because I’m bound to hurt you or make a fool of myself.’ Actually, in Notes from the Underground, Fyodor talks about man’s unconscious desire to smash up something he has been building, because he is unconsciously terrified of what to do what he has completed it, and Brand actually mentions this quite a bit in his Bookywooks. How he’d personally reach a level of fame and notoriety but then sabotage it, fearing the peak or what comes after – the come down. I hope I’ve interpreted these guys correctly, because it does make sense to me. The only thing that really sets me aside from these guys is my utter lack of ambition. At least in these peoples’ hypomanic states they were achieving something. What do I do? I’m the classic, slightly mentally ill underachiever that never sticks to anything. The sheer magnitude of my unconscientiousness could be used as an example of how not to be during a Jordan Peterson lecture. My downfalls were not self-sabotages, conscious or unconscious for the first half of my life. The rest you can blame on me, that’s fair enough, but puberty hit me early and like a train, and all that meant was I was spotty and got a bullied a bit, but that didn’t excuse me from performing well in my exams and essays. I was predicted to come out with some of the top grades in the whole school. I even started finding my confidence and standing up for myself to bullies after a few years adjusting to adolescence. Then my mother died suddenly one night from an overdose when I was fourteen, and my whole world flipped upside down. Like an anime main character backstory right there. It wasn’t perfect beforehand, anyone who knows my whole childhood situation will agree, but I had a bloody good chance up until she died. After that, I became nihilistic, rebellious, promiscuous and generally self-destructive. ‘How would your mother feel if she could see you now? She wouldn’t have wanted this.’ Oh how I wish I slapped anyone that said this to me. How dare they even try to assume what she would have wanted, having never known her. Of course, I said it to myself all the time, I still do sometimes, but I have that right. The rest of you don’t. Hah, rights. What a joke, even as I try to be dominant through typing to imaginary figments of the past and the future, I’m not even convincing myself.

The inconsistency, of my desires, my attitudes, my cognitions, my emotions and ultimately my behaviour is what pains me. I would rather be a complete abolition that was sure in himself than be like this. What’s even more frustrating is that it’s not that uncommon for people to be like me in that sense, but they just go with the flow with it, seemingly unaware of their inconsistency, and become incredibly defensive when you point it out. It’s understandable, I get defensive with myself, which could be an early sign of schizophrenia, who knows, time will tell. At the moment though I am without doubt an anxious, depressive, inconsistent muddled mess of a person, and even the HOPE for my future self comes and goes in powerful forms. I have the grandiose fantasies of being interviewed by people because I’m just that interesting and my achievements are that remarkable, and I also have the sheer terror while preparing to talk to the shop assistant when I’m buying something. Oh yeah, buying things, that’s a tricky one for me an’ all! The trick with me is not to give me too much choice, because if I have I will never decide, or I will make a silly last minute decision or pick the third thing after debating with myself for ten minutes between choosing from the first and the second. Not only indecisiveness, but impulsiveness plagues me. Not just buying things I don’t need, or don’t even want yet because I haven’t finished the last thing, but even charitably so. I saw a stranger E-begging by chance and decided to send him money. I have no idea why. Am I just a good person? I don’t have enough money for myself, and even if I do have some to spare, that should go to others who have helped me financially before a stranger on the internet. Maybe I’m not a good person, and I just did it to cleanse myself of some feeling of shame or guilt for wasting money on myself. As well as the positive fantasies of my future where I am destined to greatness through nothing other than my own conviction and virtues, I have the other vision in the crystal ball that shows myself destitute and addicted to hard drugs, homeless or institutionalised, ultimately suicided. Addiction and suicide run through my veins afterall, and I’ve been close to becoming the 3rd generation of my bloodline to go out by my own hand. The decently sized scar on my arm from a self-inflicted slash that was intended for my neck, that nearly severed my nerves and would have left me with a malfunctioning left hand had I gone any deeper. Sometimes I look at it and feel ashamed for doing it, for trying to throw away my beautiful, special life, and other times I look at it and feel ashamed for missing my real target, my consciousness. I battle with my consciousness a lot, I try to minimise it through drink and drugs or healthy mental exercises, distract it with my media, sublimate it through writing and drawing, but rarely do I get peace from it. Then other times, I count my blessings and praise the universe for bestowing onto me just the ability to think and feel and be a person. Neither approach to life is crazy to me, what’s crazy to me is not being able to bloody pick one and settle on it for more than a couple of days at a time. Like Fyodor describes his character going out into a busy bustling area in his urges to be part of society after a stint of isolation, I will go out some weekends and do the same, but that’s only a more recent, probably more healthy advance in my development than what I have been doing for a long time which is going online to provoke and debate people with my thoughts and opinions, and sometimes cheeky insults. I really resent when people who know me call it ‘trolling’ when I go off on these episodes. Trolling to me is when you put something out there that you don’t actually stand by, but you know will get a reaction out of people because you’re bored and want to mess with people. Now fair enough, there’s a lot to be said for that last part, but I have no reason to say things I don’t really think/feel/believe when the things I say genuinely are enough to upset people on their own, things I sincerely believe are correct. I’ll feel ever so right and convicted during these online tirades, then the next day want to delete all my social media and wipe my name from the planetary database. Perhaps I could just delete my existence while I’m at it. Seems like my self-doubt and my self-assuredness play equal part in my misery, because like everything else, I can’t choose one. The same happens if I go out and meet new people on the weekend, I’ll exchange numbers and add people with all intention of meeting up in the future, only to ghost them afterwards. I don’t know why.

#rambling #4 #entry #entry 4 #four

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maddie-grove · 4 years

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My Top Five Twentieth-Century (Ish) Romance Novels

Notes: Romances set during the twentieth century are among the hardest for me to categorize. First, romance novels (as we know them today) began to emerge as a distinct genre in the twentieth century, so it’s entirely possible for two romance novels, one historical and one contemporary, to be set during the same decade. What do I do with that? Second, I think twentieth-century historical romance falls into three distinct categories with little to do with each other: Edwardian-ish (post-Victorian but pre-WWI), World Wars (WWI, WWII, and everything in between), and Cold War (roughly 1947 to 1991). I lump in nineties-set romance with contemporary romance, partly because I am a very self-centered early-nineties baby, and partly because of some pivotal events that took place in the early nineties (the end of the Cold War, the popularization of Internet usage, the Old School/New School schism in romance). Also, I’ve yet to see a nineties-set historical, which isn’t the case for the seventies or eighties. This is not a science.

1. Scandal of the Year by Laura Lee Guhrke (2011)

Exact Setting: 1900s England.

Premise: Years ago, Julia, Lady Yardley, used the unwitting Aidan, the Duke of Trathen, to trick the world into thinking she’d committed adultery with him. It got her a divorce from her abusive husband, but it also dragged the very proper Aidan’s reputation through the mud. Since then, Julia has become a motorcar-racing, cigarette-smoking firecracker. Maybe Aidan should resent her, but instead he misses her and dreams of doing what everyone thinks they did.

Why I Like It: This was the first post-Victorian historical romance I ever read, and it blew me away. Looking at it objectively, I know it has its flaws--it contains very little conflict, and Julia’s past actions towards Aidan aren’t taken seriously enough--but I love it still. Their odd-couple friendship is endearing, and their sexual chemistry is off the charts. I really appreciate that Guhrke put in one spectacular love scene, rather than three repetitive ones (as is the custom). I also like the inclusion of exciting technological developments, like cars, and Julia’s post-divorce hellion ways.

Favorite Scene: The one spectacular sex scene.

2. Let Us Dream by Alyssa Cole (2016)

Exact Setting: 1917 New York City.

Premise: Bertha Hines, a black cabaret owner and suffragette, is dealing with opposition from all sides. A racist white official is trying to get her shut down, the more “respectable” suffragettes won’t even take her money, and (more pleasantly) the hot dishwasher at her club is critical of her dance routine. Said hot dishwasher, Indian-born Amir Chowdhury, is having his own problems; he’s sharing an apartment with three roommates, he’s been dodging immigration officials since he jumped ship, and his ambitions of being a chef have stalled. Can these two prickly, passionate people ever get along? Can they maybe even help each other out?

Why I Like It: I’m a little disappointed that so many World Wars historicals are set in rather bland small towns where it might as well be 1890 . Let Us Dream is a delicious exception. Set on the eve of the Harlem Renaissance and women’s suffrage, during the waning days of WWI, it captures a vibrant historical moment. Bertha and Amir are both unique protagonists with a great dynamic; when they clash, it’s not because they don’t share values or respect each other, but because they’re both so ambitious and self-assured. Plus, the food descriptions are really good.

Favorite Scene: The dancing lessons.

3. Morning Glory by LaVyrle Spencer (1990)

Exact Setting: Early 1940s Northern Georgia.

Premise: Will Parker, fresh out of prison and half-starved, finds refuge with “Crazy” Elly Dinsmore, a reclusive pregnant widow with two little boys. Unable to run a small farm by herself, she’s taken out an ad for a husband, but she and Will sensibly agree to take things slow. Nevertheless, things...evolve. Can they get through childbirth, the tail end of the Great Depression, World War Two, and a murder trial? Are they gonna have to wait for their lives to be over?

Why I Like It: Lord, the sheer tenderness of this book. Elly and Will treat each other with kindness from the start, even though neither has received much of that in their life. Their relationship grows even lovelier as they get to know each other and weather the challenges that life throws at them. It also made me think of my grandparents, who also married shortly before WWII. Finally, there’s a lot of good stuff about responsible land management, which is very appealing to me, someone who struggles to responsibly manage an apartment and a Toyota.

Favorite Scene: Will gets the imperious but secretly nice town librarian to take an interest in Elly.

4. Let It Shine by Alyssa Cole (2015)

Exact Setting: Early 1960s Virginia and Mississippi.

Premise: Sofie Wallis, a black college student, has always done the proper thing, not wanting to upset her anxious father since her mother’s untimely death from a sudden illness. The Civil Rights Movement is gathering steam, though, and she’s not about to sit it out. Through her activism, she becomes reacquainted with Ivan Friedman, a reserved white Jewish boxer whose terminally ill mother employed her mom as a housekeeper when they were kids. They were friends back then...can they be more now? And how is the Freedom Summer going to go?

Why I Like It: Cole expertly captures both the idealism and the ugliness of the early 1960s, making for an exhilarating and thought-provoking story. The dynamic between Sofie and Ivan--both quiet, intense, and conscientious people--is both moving and sexy. There isn’t a whole lot of conflict between them; they have internal stuff to sort out (Sofie’s fear and grief over her mother’s death, Ivan’s attempts to channel his righteous anger into constructive channels) and some external obstacles to overcome (racist opposition to the Freedom Riders, somewhat disapproving but mostly scared parents, the fact that interracial marriage wasn’t legal in Virginia until 1967), but they’re pretty much always on the same page. This could make for a less-developed romance, but instead you get this incredible sense of rightness: that these are two people with shared values, great chemistry, and a deep respect for one another.

Favorite Scene: Sofie and Ivan practice for the Freedom Ride.

5. Simple Jess by Pamela Morsi (1996)

Exact Setting: Early 1900s Arkansas.

Premise: Althea McNees Winsloe, a young widow with a three-year-old son, has no wish to marry. She doesn’t trust any man to truly look after the interests of her firstborn, and frankly none of them do it for her anyway. Unfortunately, she owns one of the best pieces of land in her small Ozarks community, and that community is full of busybodies. Instead of marrying to oblige them, she hires Jesse Best, a local man with cognitive disabilities, to help her out with her land. The arrangement satisfies them both--she likes his ideas for improving the farm, while he likes being treated as a capable person for once--but things get complicated as their mutual liking turns into something...sexier. Can it work out between them? Will the community, which refers to Jesse as “Simple Jess” way more than necessary, accept their love? And will Althea’s other suitors ever be able to put down their burdens of toxic masculinity and achieve true happiness?

Why I Like It: A book with this premise is either going to be great or a fucking mess, and Morsi hits it out of the park. Society has a bad habit of conceiving of “disabled” and “non-disabled” as two mutually exclusive categories; non-disabled people are “normal” and capable of doing everything they need to do without help, while disabled people are aberrant and generally incapable. Jesse has serious, life-altering cognitive disabilities; he has trouble remembering things, takes a long time to process things mentally, and often doesn’t pick up on when people are manipulating him. The people in his community see these disabilities and feel the need to “simplify” him into someone who has no intelligence, no sexuality, and no agency. Yet Jesse is capable of many things, and he knows what he wants. Meanwhile, the “normal” people of the community, including Althea, also need help from others: to farm land, to raise children, to be happy. The community is also well-drawn, sometimes infuriating yet always very human.

Favorite Scene: Althea sees Jesse’s farm improvements and is like “fuck yeah that’s some good shit” (paraphrase). I am also fond of the scene where Althea’s secretly gay suitor tells his asshole father to fuck off and moves to New Orleans.

#romance novels #scandal of the year #laure lee guhrke #let us dream #let it shine #alyssa cole #morning glory #lavyrle spencer #simple jess #pamela morsi

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broadway-book-badger · 4 years

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Let’s talk about books

Back in the day, about three years ago, I went through a phase of posting monthly write-ups of what I’d been reading on here. In these trying times there seems to be a little bit more time for reading, plus escapism and procrastination are always fun, so I though I’d share a few recommendations. There’s a few different genres (amazingly, hardly any YA fantasy), and I’ve mostly read these in the last year or so. I’ve kept my thoughts as spoiler free as I can. Read them under the cut.

1. The Hunger Games Trilogy by Suzanne Collins

Everyone and their mother has read The Hunger Games. I have read The Hunger Games before. But, a couple of weeks ago, I reread the trilogy for the first time since my first reading, which was around Christmas 2011. And to be perfectly honest, these books hold up! I think maybe it’s because I read so many not so good dystopian YA novels after I first read the Hunger Games that I thought less of this trilogy, but I don’t know. This is a solid series. If you’ve never revisited it (or if you’ve never read it at all), now could be the time! I love the fast paced writing - once things kick off, they do not stop and I burned through the whole trilogy in about three days. The world building is decent, and it doesn’t back away from some pretty heavy stuff. I remember certain scenes being much more gory, but that’s probably just because I’ve read much worse in the past 9 years. Also being older, I appreciate Katniss as a character a lot more. I remember 13-year old me getting annoyed, but now I kind of like that she is allowed to be confused about her feelings and struggle with what she’s been through and generally be a pawn rather than a flawless 16-year old rebel commander as seen elsewhere. The love triangle also isn’t as bad as I remember, although I was reminded of my own love for Peeta. Some people complain that he’s boring, but I think he’s a lovely boy.

2. The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon

I’ve been wanting to read this since I saw someone on the internet pitch this as something along the lines of “The queer dragon fantasy epic you’ve been waiting for.” I did a lot of waiting for it to come out in paperback, because it is an absolute behemoth over 800 pages, and while incredibly pretty, the hardback was just too big. It was, however, well worth the wait. I haven’t read a ton of adult fantasy, because a lot of it is so big, but this was a good place to start, because the writing style is pretty easy to read and also its a standalone, so the story is told by the end, it’s not the first of like 6 800 page bricks. While the plot and the characters and the love story between a queen and her handmaiden who’s a badass sorceress in disguise are all enjoyable, the thing I loved the most was the worldbuilding. I love the time and effort that was spent developing the religions and mythologies of all the different kingdoms and how they clash in ways such as different takes on the legend of St George and the dragon, and the contrast Western dragons as monsters to be slain by knights vs benevolent Eastern dragons that kind of echoes real world mythology. I saw one review of this describing ‘Priory’ as ‘a feminist successor to Lord of the Rings and Game of Thrones.’ While I think you could definitely say that that is the case, I would say that equally being more feminist than either of those titles is not a particularly high bar, given that there are only about 5 named women in the whole of Middle Earth, and most of the women in Game of Thrones are assaulted and brutalized for no good reason.

3. Red, White and Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston

This book made me so happy, you have no idea. An enemies to friends to lovers story about the son of the first female American president and the Prince of England, that reads kind of like fanfiction but in the best possible way is exactly what the world needs right now. Everything about this book is delightful, from the characters to their relationships to the pseudo-alternate history that its set in. I think the thing that increased my enjoyment of this is the fact that the main characters are in their early twenties. It seems to me that most protagonists, regardless of genre are either 16 or pushing 30, and while I still enjoy their stories, there was just something infinitely more relatable about a character the same age as me. If anyone knows of any more books with characters in this age range, please let me know, because they seem few and far between. Back to this, however, I think I was grinning like an idiot through most of this book. I laughed, I may have shed a little happy tear, I fully recommend.

4. The Broken Earth Trilogy by N K Jemisin

Another foray into adult fantasy, this is such a good series. The books aren’t too long and the writing style is easy to digest, but it is DARK. It’s set in a world which experiences apocalyptic natural disasters every couple of centuries. There are people with powers that can help control this, but they’re super oppressed and treated as evil, rather than potential saviours. The story follows a woman searching for her missing daughter in the wake of an apocalypse, a young girl coming into her powers and others, and it is so well done. It’s such a unique and diverse world, and there are some great reveals as to why the story is being told the way that it is, as well as interesting takes on things like living vs surviving and systems of oppression.

5. The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid

An aging and reclusive Hollywood star decides that the time has come to share her life story to an unknown journalist and it’s amazing. This is so well done that its easy to forget while reading that Evelyn Hugo is not a real person and you cannot go and watch her films. I first heard about this book and thought it sounded interesting, as I have a love of Old Hollywood musicals. I then promptly forgot all about it, until I heard other people on the internet talking about how it had a bisexual protagonist, which both reminded me about it and made me want to read it more and here we are. Evelyn Hugo had a hell of a life, with seven husbands and another great love story, and I thoroughly enjoyed reading about it. This book does a great job at showcasing both the glamour and less glamorous underside of the era, as well as the lengths people are willing to go. It also had me sobbing at 1am because I couldn’t put it down, and if that isn’t the mark of a quality book, I don’t know what is!

6. Circle of Friends by Maeve Binchy

A coming-of-age story following two childhood friends as they move from their small town to Dublin for University in the 1950s. Quite a chunky book, but a lovely story and I found it read pretty quickly. As I was saying about Red, White and Royal Blue, it’s rare to find books about characters of this sort of age range. Equally rare I think are books with a university setting - the only others I can think of are Fangirl, the Magicians and the Secret History - any recommendations, let me know! I enjoyed the characters growing and finding their confidence and independence, as well as the period setting. I also greatly appreciated the ending, in terms of the main character’s love interest, as it’s something that you don’t often see in this type of book. I may have to read more by this author.

7. Everything I Know About Love by Dolly Alderton

This is one of those books that I just happened to read at the perfect time in my life, and for that reason it means a lot to me. I read it at the very end of 2018, when I was feeling really down and not myself, and something in there just spoke to me and maybe gave a little perspective. I don’t read much non-fiction and this is just the memoirs of someone as she navigates her teens and twenties. I can see why someone might not like it, but I really did. There’s some relatable content in here. As the book went on and I read all these parts about bad dates and third-wheeling friends, I kept waiting for the part where she said, ‘but then I met so-and-so and it all changed’ but that NEVER happened. By the end of this book, this woman is still single and praising all the types of non-romantic love in her life, and that I think is a bit of a revelation. It is so rare for a woman to stay single at the end of a book (see every YA love triangle ever, even when both boys are terrible), and so this resonated deeply with me. I laughed, I cried, I go back and reread bits every so often, and I wholeheartedly recommend.

8. Chain of Gold by Cassandra Clare

There are those who say that Cassandra Clare needs to stop, but I wholeheartedly disagree. As long as she wants to keep writing Shadowhunter books, I will keep reading them, because they are a hell of a lot of fun. I’ll admit, bits of the OG Mortal Instruments series aren’t the best thing I’ve ever read, but the historical series are in another league altogether. I adore the Infernal Devices trilogy, which features one of the few good love triangles in YA, and Chain of Gold is a promising start to a new series about the children of the Infernal Devices characters. I think there’s something about the historical setting that just works so much better than the modern series, it could be the angst that comes from things like marriages of convenience and ruined reputations, but I digress. I really enjoyed getting to know this new cast of characters, while also getting some appearances from old favourites. The plot was solid too, and I liked the new expansions to the mythology, while wondering what they mean for what’s coming in the rest of this trilogy. I think the fact that I read this in less than 48 hours, mostly sitting in the same spot tells you everything you need to know.

#booklr #books #reading #the priory of the orange tree #chain of gold #the seven husbands of evelyn hugo #lizzy reads

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sourwolfstories · 5 years

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Hey!! Can you rec some of the most famous sterek AUs in the fandom please? Btw, I love your recs. Thanks :)

The Comic-Con Incident by raimykeller

Stiles and Derek are actors on the same show, but secret boyfriends in real life. What happens when Stiles accidentally spills the beans at Comic-Con?

Starstruck (Or Not) by literaryoblivion

Derek takes his daughter Lia to a convention of her favorite TV show because he’s a good dad (and can’t seem to tell his daughter no) and ends up meeting a special someone.

#OTP: Assholes in Love by stilesanderek (minxxx)

After being outed as bisexual in a sex tape scandal by his ex-girlfriend Kate, Derek struggles to find an acting job until he finally lands a promising role in an HBO supernatural show called Shapeshifters, in which he plays the main character. Derek instantly falls in love with the cast, with whom he has immense fun with, especially Stiles, whose relationship with Derek consists of mainly sarcastic and teasing remarks.

Which is why when Jackson shows him a fanart of Stiles and him having intense sex he gets confused and doesn’t understand this whole “Sterek” thing Jackson is talking about.

Hiding in Plain Sight by inmydreams

Popular talk-show host Stiles Stilinski has to interview movie star Derek Hale live on tv. The only problem is they have been in a secret relationship for the past couple of years and they have to get through the interview without anyone finding out.

Here’s to the Static by matildajones

Stiles spends most of his college break in a coffee house where he stares after Derek Hale. For some reason, Stiles is unaware of the fact he’s quite the musician, and Derek amuses himself at Stiles’ obliviousness.

soulmates tbh by bleep0bleep

“It’s been five months,” Derek says darkly. “Why am I still getting these proposals? You know these are probably all fake marks.”

Five months since the paparazzi had snapped that photo of him with the overzealous fan tugging at his shirt, five months since millions of people on the Internet realized that the birthmark revealed was in fact, the mark, five months Derek was inundated by claims from people who desperately wanted him to believe that they were his soul-mate.

How The Light Gets In by dryersheetz

A Teen Wolf / Notting Hills AU

Stiles Stilinski’s life as a comic book store owner in Beacon Hills, California had been satisfying enough, but he’s been inevitably becoming increasingly bored and antsy with the cyclical nature of his life in a smaller town.

Enter Frame: The famous Hollywood bad boy and contender for Sexiest Man Alive, Derek Hale, who proceeds to turn his world upside down, but somehow brings him closer to the things he knew were most important he had lost sight of along the way.

(Title from the Leonard Cohen Poem)

Play Crack the Sky by WeAreTheCyclones

Excerpt from “Hale Pulls the Plug on the Future of Rock,” Rolling Stone, Issue 1203 – Oct. 2014“Fans and music industry vets alike are left reeling in the wake of bassist Derek Hale’s sudden departure from Smokes for Harris. At a time when the foursome from Beacon Hills, California seems to be on the cusp of rock superstardom after just one double platinum record, Smokes has everything to lose.”

Excerpt from “Smokes for Harris: Gladiator,” SPIN.com – Feb. 2015“Smokes for Harris gives in a little to the pop punk of yesteryear in their sophomore effort, but rather than pandering to fans of a lost era they elevate the genre in a way that hasn’t been seen in quite some time. Frontman Stiles Stilinski works double duty as singer and primary songwriter and proves that he can handle the task even without former bassist Derek Hale.“

Trust Fall [Into My Bed] by ofherlionheart

Stiles’s eyes light up. “Did you see him, though? No wonder the dude is an Oscar winner. He’s amazing. I mean, I’ve worked with, like, Liam Neeson and Natalie Dormer. But Derek is something else – I don’t know, I can’t describe it. There’s just this, this thing about him, when we’re in a scene together, it’s so easy to just click with him, and you know some people hate how much I improvise, but Derek just takes it and rolls with it and adds stuff of his own –” He breaks off when he finally notices Lydia smirking. “What?”

“You’re rambling,” Lydia observes.

“And?”

“I guess you aren’t too tired to talk about Derek.”

—

In which Oscar-winner Derek Hale and sidekick-to-the-top-guns Stiles Stilinski are thrown together to star in a new, powerful film. Mix in feelings, long days, late nights, terrifyingly omniscient agents, the Hale clan, Canada, and some UST, and come out with a long story with liberal amounts of UST and fluff.

Sourwolf Candy by relenafanel

When the Sourwolf Candy franchise offers a $10,000 annual scholarship to the school of the winner’s choice, Stiles jumps at the chance to enter. It doesn’t matter that the other prizes are a day with one of the Hales and a lifetime supply of Sourwolf Candy. The sacrifices are worth it, because if there’s one thing that Stiles hates more than Sourwolf Candy, it’s Derek Hale.

So of course he has to spend a day with the guy who made the catchphrase ‘Don’t be such a Sourwolf’ popular: Sourfaced Derek Hale himself. If he doesn’t, he doesn’t get his scholarship money.

Derek just wants a little sugar. Or a lot of sugar, as the case may be.

A whole case of sugar.

(He stress-eats sugar, ok?

If We Could Match by forestofbabel

As Stiles waits behind the camera during an interview, he thinks he should maybe quit. Because, in all honesty, despite the charming smile the actor is pulling out for EW, Derek Hale is kind of a jerk.

my heart’s been offline by thepsychicclam

31/M/New York. Rich, lays in bed all day, likes to read (aka Derek Hale, son of an Oscar winning actress, brother of one obnoxious reality star and one rebellious fashion designer, hates the paparazzi so much he’s a recluse)

26/M/California. Boring office job, likes to read (aka Stiles Stilinski, co-owner of a 100 acre organic farm with his dad and two best friends, writer of obits for a newspaper, has absolutely no life)

Or, where Derek and Stiles meet online, and Stiles has no clue Derek’s part of a famous family.

#answered #anonymous #sterek #sterek fic rec #sterek fanfic #sterek fanfiction #famous derek #famous stiles #celebrity au #celeb derek #celeb stiles

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chrysolina · 6 years

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My eternal love

Summary - The feeling of having, knowing and believing you have a totally unrequited love for someone can often make most people feel undeserving of such a pathetic fantasy in the future - but does everyone share that same view?

Pairings - Chris Evans x reader, Chris Evans x Jenny Slate, Reader x OC!

Warnings - swearing, angst, unexpected happenings

A/N - Here it is! Part 2 of My love! Enjoy! <3

“And that’s it, congratulations again Miss Y/L/N. We’ll see you on Monday,” the audition panel smiled and waved you off once you thanked them graciously and signed on the dotted paper, your signature being the last one they needed to begin filming ‘Practicion’.

You quickly wandered out of the studio hangar, zipped up well into your short tartan trench coat and out onto the forecourt where you were met by the cool LA January air that kissed your cheeks eagerly. Picking up your phone from your coat pocket, 6:13pm, the locksreen read. Jack would be here any minute now to pick you up and take you to dinner.

You scrolled aimelssly through your phone, your boredom quickly taking over. You took a quick glance at the three missed text messages you had and decided it should be wise to text back your sister and manager with whatever they were asking about or for. As if on its own, your thumb scrolled through the messages list and almost accidentally landed on the one name you swore you deleted - Crusty Evans - also known as, Chris Evans.

Your heart, mind and face cringed at the old nickname you had given him ages ago. It had been little over five months since you had last heard from Chris. From what the internet blogs, magazines and paparazzi rumours told you on an unnecessary week-to-week basis was that Jenny and Chris did spilt for a short amount of time but are - apparently - still ‘seeing each other’.

They must’ve been doing pretty well together since according to an inside source, the couple were last seen looking very happy out and around Tribeca, allegedly trying to find an apartment to live in together.

Why they had to come and live so close to where you and your family lived was beyond infuriating for you and your family.

However, your papa dismissed the idea that any of you would ever see them since ‘they are nobody’s to us’. ‘I wish I could believe you papa’ you thought to yourself as the words repeated themselves in your head ‘but they’ll always be someone’s in this world.”

Before your mind could digest the toxic thought of the couple together, a car horn cut through the chilly air and diverted your attention to where the noise came from.

An unmistakable sleek all black range rover was parked idle by the gates, waiting for someone - more specifically, you. Jack’s new car was certainly a beauty alright, wherever he went in it and wherever you saw it, the black luxury car demanded attention from onlookers - sometimes making you squirm in your seat on the days you’d accompany him somewhere.

In many respects, the car was very much like Jack himself.

Your face broke out into a smile as you pulled the the pricey car door open and was met by the charming Scotsman’s classic smirk. “Why good evenin’ m’lady,” Jack tried to charm you with his thickest Scottish accent possible which only made you laugh in return “did ya get the role?” He merely rolled his eyes at your laugh and began to turn the car around. “I sure did, got it with flying colours - apparently,” You squealed and jumped excitedly up and down in your seat and took Jack hand from the gearstick and shook it for effect.

“Alright you,” he pulled his hand away from your grip and focused back on the LA roads ahead of you “so where would you like to eat tonight? Wendy’s? Chick-fil-a? In-and-out?” Your stomach grumbled at the mere names of the fast food joints. “Wherever it is tho, food’s on me; got it? No buts, I insist.” Your lips turned upwards at Jack’s gentlemanly manner of buying you food.

Food, yes, that was what you were deciding on. After a second or two of short-wired thinking, your finally decided on where to eat. “How about we just go for a classic McDonalds, hm?” You watched eagerly as the Scotsman thought it through and twisted his face in (fake) thought. “Alright then, McDonalds it is.”

The rest of the car ride to the drive-thru was pleasantly quiet bar the sound of Jack’s playlist humming from the speakers. You weren’t bothered by that, you were just enjoying the sights of golden windows around you as the city lit up for the night.

“Tell me again Y/N,” Jack broke through the silence peacefully, making you whip your head around to the man before you “who and what is your role in this film?” The film - of course. You had even forgotten yourself considering first auditions were so long ago “Well, I am playing the role of the main romantic interest of her businessman-husband who is also a recovering drug addict. I think..” As hard as it was, you tried to pluck out who you actually were in the film through all the paperwork you had to sign today, scraping it as you did so.

“Hm, well so long as they have good teeth, you’ll be alright with kissing them huh?” Jack smirked at you and ran his tongue over his plush lips. You chuckled at the now-auburney haired Scot as you recalled the horror of your prom date all those years ago and how digusting his teeth looked once you got up close to kiss him. “Fingers crossed, just in case though,” you and Jack laughed again and watched as the Golden Arches of McDonadls came into view.

“So, what would miss Y/L/N like for food tonight hm? Burger? Fries? McFlurry? Or how about..Me?”

“Jack!”

•••••••

As if as the norm lately, your weekend spent up in the reclusive estates of Hollywood in your own little rented place was easy, relaxing and consisted of nothing more than eating your own home cooked meals, binge watching your favourite shows on Netflix, learning the new script as best as you could and sleeping until late.

It was a great way to ease yourself back into the rush of filming and took your mind off other minute things that floated around your mind.

Before you knew it, 9am rolled around quicker than anticipated and you found yourself being walked by an assistant to the main studio you’d just left that Friday before. Your eyes were quick to take everything in again, routes to the trailers, toilets etc - they all needed to be mapped out by yourself in due course.

Trotting through the main doors to the first - of many - sets and waited whilst the assistant went to look for the director and other cast members.

In the meantime, to calm your nerves, you began to smooth out your short black pencil skirt and toyed wth the sleeves of your white and black lined tailored jacket. In all fairness, your looks were definitely matching up to your status in Hollywood - clean, sweet and professional.

Everything most directors looked for in an actor or actress.

“Where is she?!” The booming voice of the director could be heard throughout the building, making you wince at the volume of his gruff voice.

All of a sudden, out of a door in the distance burst out a short, slightly chubby middle aged tanned man with a thick lit cigarette hanging from his seemingly chapped lips - lined by a grey black moustache. His hair was a little scarse, Black and grey in areas and cut very short - but overall, he looked pleasant enough.

“Ah you must be the infamous Y/N Y/L/N! Welcome welcome, it’s an absolute honour to have you here today.” The director began to talk to you but all you could pick up on was his familiar New York- Italian accent - one that you’d most definitely have if it wasn’t for travelling the world.

“Please, sir; the honour’s all mine,” you quickly thanked his graces about you and excused them as silly and unfitting for someone like yourself. “Oh please darlin’, you’re worth all the hype.”

The director winked at you and shot you a genuine smile in return, one you mirrored almost instantly “and don’t worry about the ‘sir’ thing Y/N, just call me Joe,” before you could thank him on the comfort of calling him his real name, Joe shouted out - seemingly - to his PA that stood a few metres away.

“Marie! Darlin, call him back in,” the young lady only nodded and trotted off someone to the side of the set behind a wall to find someone.

“I’ve yet to introduce you to your co-stars haven’t I?” Your voice was a blubber out of the new oncoming embarrassment and only trusted your head to do the talking, nodding in agreement. Your newest crew had evidently caught wind of your arrival were quick inforce to come and see, greet and meet you.

“Sir, I got him. He’s comin’ now,” the PA quickly shouted out from the wall she disappeared from and disappeared around it again.Who were they on about? Was it your other romantic interest - the drug addict businessman? Who knows.

Before your mind festered any more, you could hear the imminent of clicking heels aiming from the wall the PA came from. Surely it couldn’t have been a woman - the footing of his person was too deep and long to be that of someone in heels.

“Y/N, I’d like you to meet your main co-star, the Chris Evans.”

‘Oh shit!’

••••••

Time seemed infinate and everlasting as you sat hunched over in the plush leather chair you were given in your trailer. Judging by your emotionless stare into nowhere specific, anyone looking at you would say you’re just daydreaming, sleepy or even bored - but you were far from any of those things.

Your mind was running at a million miles a minute, every stupidly minute thought you ever pushed aside during the past five months had all resurfaced and were causing your poor brain havoc.

You wished it wasn’t true - no, you prayed in your hands and knees that this was all just some silly joke. He wasn’t really going to be the actor you’d actually have to kiss and be romantic to once the cameras were rolling, was he? He couldn’t have been - why Chris?

He had marvel films and soon-to-be broadway appearances to be dealing with, he shouldn’t really be here in reality. Maybe this was all just a big fat mistake; a joke that everyone will laugh off in a couple of hours, right? Well...one can hope, you supposed.

With your back to your trailer’s door, your mind allowed you to think that the assistant who was getting lunch for everyone had come back and came with food, so without caution you just called out “The door’s open,” and expected the assistant to waltz in on her own accord.

“Hey, I - uh - brought some lunch for you.” That voice - damn that smooth Boston accented voice - it was here, right behind you. Just over a metre away from you stood the (anxious) man of your nightmares these past couple of months. At the mere sound of his voice, you shot up out to the chair you resides in and whipped your head around to look at him dead in the eye.

The look of shock-horror plastered your face like a pantomime mask, you just couldn’t help it. It was agiven reaction and so was Chris’ in all fairness. He was bewildered by the look on your face and only sent his brain further into it’s shell, his anxiety picking up that bit more. With the paper bag in one hand, Chris began rubbing the nape of his neck and shoulder - a habit you found to have stemmed from his anxiety.

“I thought maybe we could - uh - catch up or well, moreso me apologising for..everything.” It wasn’t until the end of his sentence he finally looked back into your eyes, your posture suddenly relaxing that little bit more, understanding that Chris had only good intentions from being here.

Moving away from your armchair, you decided to collect your lunch from Chris and serve it up - Chicken Caesar salad - your new favourite. Chris quickly gave you the paper bag and watched you help yourself to cutlery, bowls and bottles of water from the stylish yet homely mini kitchen.

“Would it be wrong of me to imagine that you have a bit of a grudge against me right now?” There it was - you wondered how long it’d take for the confident, assured Chris to come through again - evidently not long enough.

“No, you’d be bang on the money,” you huffed and began tossing the salad in the ceramic bowl, those blue eyes continuously boring into your uncomfortable frame - just like the did the whole time you met your fellow cast members- Chris got on your heels the whole time.

“Lucky me hmm,” Chris hummed to himself, tucked his hands in his tan jean pockets, making the light blue shirt he wore bulge around his Adonis-like muscles and leant against the dresser. Why this had to feel like some sort of meetup by two ex’s was beyond you but you thought nothing of it as you set your salad, bottle and cutlery down in the space you were intending to eat from. That was until Chris wedged his body into you, preventing you from moving.

“Y/N, we - I can’t keep doing this. This whole avoidance game, I’ve had enough.” His eyes looked down into yours with a heat that you couldn’t stand on a day like today. Much like him, his look was strong and confident and it made you squirm in your spot.

“I don’t think there’s much more I can say to get us out of this limbo, Chris.” You dared not to look into those eyes and tried to turn away from him, but in just one breath of air, his muscular form was now pressed up against you; breasts to chest, stomach to stomach, you were officially toast.

“Oh I beg to differ Y/N. There’s nothing more Jack can say for you but I think you’re a completely different picture. You have a lot more to say, don’t you darlin’..” you watched intently as Chris’ hand slid out from his tan jeans and out to play with the hem of your jacket.

The air between you was palpable, you could feel his short warm breaths tickling the apex of your neck, the way his muscles rippled against your body after every movement he made. The air was choking you and you hated it.

“Perhaps I do, but I think you’ll find my words will have a very similar ring to Jack’s,” a sudden burst of confidences surged through your veins and made you straighten your spine in defiance to this beautiful menace. Your confindence led you to look right where you didn’t want to and only found hunger in return. Chris’ eyes were lit up with an unmentionable hunger that you couldn’t digest, making you quiver even more.

“Tell me something darlin’, are you and that McCallister a thing? Are you two..dating?” You continuously locked eye contact with the actor and winched in pain as his smirk grew wider, deeper and more mischievous by the second.

“N-no. We’re just very - very - good friends. Nothin’ more!” You denied all the claims Chris tried to pin on you feverishly, trying through every means to keep your image of Jack clean as possible. However, it was evident in Chris’ furrowed brows and darkened stare, he wasn’t having it today.

“Not even friends with benefits? ‘Cause I’ve seen plenty of pictures of you and him together and nothin’, not one inch of those pictures tell me that you’re just friends.” How it was even possible that Chris’ tone could drop another two or three octaves was beyond you. The deep rumble of his chest against yours and the bitterness of his tone solidified your thoughts, he was jealous.

Deciding that now might not be the time to push any buttons, you tried your best to put out the fire Chris had started. “I - I think that’s something you’d have to ask Jack himself. I can’t comment for him if he does have feelings for me.”

“Oh,” Chris chided mockingly, his hand stopping all movement on your jacket “So he does have feelings for you? Aren’t I a genius..” still refusing to make even the slightest bit of eye contact, you tried to wriggle out of his imaginative hold - failing miserably as you did so.

At the thought of you wriggling away, Chris’ hand flew to waist and gripped you possessively tight - he just had to know if you had fallen for the Scotsman over him - he had to. “And do you reciprocate these feelings for him? Hm?”

“Maybe in d-due time..” They do say that the heart is very very precious and Chris knew no different.

His heart dropped ten miles underground at your confession and his eyes began to prick with the hot tears of nearing heartbreak. You were refusing to give in to him - something was holding you back from him and he had to find out what or die trying.

“And what about now?” He chided coolly, the change in tone made you look at him scrutinisingly. “Honestly Y/N, do you have feelings for him as of right now?”

“I don’t...” to think such a small sentence could lift his heart was unbelievable to Chris but filled him with internal joy all the same. Instead of easing up on his hold on you, Chris chose to close in on you even further and cage you in his arms - your body stuck between his and the dresser behind.

“And do you have any feelings for anyone in particular right now?” You knew what he wanted to hear right now, hell - you were close to giving him it. But with being so close to him and in the full knowledge that he had a girlfriend - you weren’t so keen to give him what he wanted.

“Not especially, no.” You deadpanned your time and took to looking straight into his eyes again, watching his eyebrows shoot up his face in undeniable shock.

“Not even for someone like..me?” He chided at you again and pressed his body closer to yours, angling you in such a way one could call it erotic - you, however, begged to differ entirely.

“I think you know the answer to that question, Christopher.” You snorted at his high-hopes, hoping and praying he’d just leave you alone to eat your untouched salad.

Your heart and mind were tearing apart by the seams, one half of you wanted to slap, kick and hit him in all the places it’d hurt the most, the other half of you just wanted to jump his bones here and now, give in to himself and indulge your worst thoughts.

But that would never come to be.

“I actually don’t, do please enlighten me on it.” His mischievous smirk had returned again for the worse and cranked up the anger metre in your mind.

“Fine! You win! I did have feelings for you, yes; I was bordering on loving you, yes. But that and everything else were all ruined the day you decided that fucking bitch you still call girlfriend!” You yelped in anger, pain and grief and tried to push Chris away by his chest, failing in doing so entirely. The tears that were stashed away were now making an appearance and began to stream down your clenched face, ruining your mascara and eyeliner in the process.

Chris didn’t know what to do with this information, you had just confessed that you were romantically attracted to the man and here he was, dumbfounded and generally reeling. He didn’t believe Jack’s word on the phone, he thought they were just to dig at him but now - now, god he was so wrong. “W-what girlfriend?”

“Don’t play stupid now Chris, you know who I’m talking about..” your voice wavered and cracked at his stupidity over the situation.

“Oh, we’re talking about Jenny now, are we?” His voice was suddenly pointed, shard and bitterly cold and made you shiver in fear over what’d he’d say next.

“Who fucking else would I be on about, Chris?”

“Considering I’ve been single since December, I’m finding it hard to think about any ‘girlfriend’ I’m with as of right now..” you felt his head tilt upwards and a heave of air rush from his lips. “I’m calling bullshit, Chris.” You winced in memory of seeing the claims all across the internet, Jenny spending Christmas with his family, the house-hunting, all of it, how could it all be a lie?

“You really think I’m bullshitting right now? Really Y/N?” Chris’s chin came to rest upon your head and you felt the familiar hands wrap around your shorter frame, hugging you tenderly close to him, your hands still stuck in shock on his chest. “You’d be surprised..” you sighed into the tender warm hold of the actor, a feeling you dearly missed, feelings or no feelings at all.

“You have no clue how much I’ve been hurting these past months Y/N, I didn’t think I could want anyone as much as Jenny..but fuck, did you screw me over..” chris chucked at the memories of him reeling over the new found feelings he had for you, realising you weren’t with him anymore and no longer share the same feelings. “Is that meant to be a good thing or a bad thing? I’m having a hard time telling right now Chris..” he laughed again at your sarcastic, straight-to-the-point question, your charm never ceases to leave you after all this time.

“It’s a very good thing, well..that’s if you still feel the same way as you did back then.” He remived his hands from your frame and cupped your wet cheeks in his hands to look at you thoroughly. You looked at him with such a look of longing chris just couldn’t help what he did next. He’d be damned if he never did it and would regret it for the rest of his life.

Wordlessly, Chris quickly joined your lips together in a smouldering yet very endearing kiss. His lips moved and slid between your perfectly, like a missing piece of a jigsaw, fitting you perfectly. Your hands froze open on his chest, your eyes forced wide open at the sudden intimate contact.

It wasn’t until Chris began to move his lips slowly against your own that you realised it - you finally realised that no matter how much pain was done, how much you tried to combat your feelings with denial, you still loved the bastard with all your heart - and that was something you could never change.

Before Chris could pull away in heartbreak over your refusal of his love, you yanked in shirt forward into you and kissed him as if it was the last time, your hands running up his neck and found purchase on his prickly hairy cheeks. Your kiss wasn’t anything like Chris’, trepardising in some areas and soft; yours was passionate and fierce, the kind of kiss the two of you would have to fight for dominance over.

Pulling away slowly, the two of you held your stare into each other’s eyes and lost each other in them. You wanted to kiss him again, and again and again but instead, you focused only on him, the man you fell for so stupidly. Instead of holding you for longer, chris decided to take purchase in the plush seat on front of the dresser and sat you in his lap, his eyes never leaving yours as he relished in the feeling of you playing with the ends of his slightly longer than usual hair.

“My god..where have you been my whole life?” Chris whispered and shook his head in bewilderment and listened to the melodic tune of your giggle ring in his ear. “Right under your nose, silly..” you swiped the bottom of his nose with your index finger and ran your fingers through his growing beard. This had to have been a dream, you didn’t believe for one minute that this was happening - you were actually in Chris’ lap stroking his face like a lovesick baby.

“How will I ever make it up to you Y/N?” He whipsered quietly, running his fingers along your tack and up and down your arm in a soothing manner. You smiled warmly at the softness of the question and thought over how he could make it up to you. “Well, I think it’d take an awful lot of hugs, kisses, time and attention just for being such a bad boy..” you smiled like a Cheshire Cat once his eyes fluttered closed at the sensation of your hands soothing his face, a knowing smirk then beginning to grow after you finished talking.

“What?” You laughed at the smirk on those heavenly lips “you do know I’ll always be a bad boy when I’m around you, right?” You sighed and shook your head at Chris’ mark and only embraced his frame, your hands wrapped around the back of his neck. “Not in public you won’t, will you?” You whispered into his neck firmly whilst your lips found their way around his neck, sucking and kissing certain areas.

“For you darlin’, I’ll be your angel and your devil.”

•••••••

A/N - I just wanna thank everyone for reading this little fic going on and hoped everyone enjoyed it as much as I did! <33

Taglist : @dlb113 @coffeebooksandfandom @chrisevans1fan @badtzmarurogers

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hope-for-olicity · 6 years

Text

Fabulous Olicity Fanfic Friday - August 24th, 2018

Happy Friday! So this is my attempt to both thank awesome fanfic writers for their amazing work and offer my recommendations to anyone who is interested. Here are the fantastic fanfic stories I read this week! They are posted in the order I read them.

Is it a Malfunction? by who_seeks_shall_find - There are problems with Felicity's spinal implant and Oliver struggles to see her in pain. https://archiveofourown.org/works/15701811

And I Wonder (If You Wonder About Me Too) multi-chapter complete by @charlie-leau - When Felicity was eight years old, her father tucked her to bed. He read her a bedtime story and bid her goodnight. When she woke up the next day, he was gone. She never heard from him again. Heartbroken, Felicity decided not to let anyone in, ever again. She just couldn’t bring herself to trust anyone. That was until she met Ray Palmer. She fell for him, he fell for her but she still expected him to leave her. He didn’t. They got married and they were happy for a while. But deep down, she still expected him to leave her. Little did she know that she’d be the one leaving him in the end. https://archiveofourown.org/works/5899057/chapters/13599040

P.S. Hong Kong: Was it Real?!? multi-chapter WIP by @cruzrogue for Olicity trope-tastic award: Fake Marriage - This is off season 3 Flashbacks. When Tommy goes to Hong Kong he doesn’t go alone he takes his friend Felicity as the best information system being to help him locate Oliver Queen. Tommy may leave empty handed but Felicity gets to be a bride… https://archiveofourown.org/works/15025697/chapters/34832747

Love and Little Cupcakes multi-chapter WIP by @christinabeggs - Felicity loved sweets so much that she paid no attention to her lovelife. Until Thea Queen came into her store wanting fabulous cupcakes for her sixteenth birthday. SO ADORABLE! http://archiveofourown.org/works/12400539/chapters/28216053

The Queen's Mage multi-chapter WIP by @the-shy-and-anxious-fangirl - Words have power, and mages, those with the aptitude to draw on that power, are few in number. Thus, their services are highly sought after by anyone who has exhausted all mundane means of solving whatever problem is plaguing them. Felicity is reminded of this fact the hard way when she is hired by Moira Queen, the Lady Starling, to find and return to her son Oliver, who fled his family home five years ago following the death of his father. With a threat hanging over her should she return without Robert Queen's heir, Felicity begins her search. When she finds Oliver, and ends up joining his vigilante crusade while she waits for him to decide whether to return home, the last thing she expects to do is fall in love with him. https://archiveofourown.org/works/14617068/chapters/33781269

Re-Airrow: Episode 2x03 by @lostolicityscenes - These scenes take place after the end of the episode and specifically references the events in the above YT clip (Felicity in the field using herself as bait for the dollmaker). Again, just trying to flesh out Oliver and Felicity’s nascent friendship/feelings. https://lostolicityscenes.tumblr.com/post/177105189894/re-airrow-episode-2x03

Life's All About Changes multi-chapter WIP by Crazyreader2468 - After agreeing to plead guilty to being the Green Arrow in order to get FBI assistance in capturing Diaz, Oliver finds himself in a supermax, a maximum security federal prison, serving a life sentence. As he struggles to become accustomed to life in prison, his family, friends, and teammates struggle to live without him, as well as continually attempting to find a way to get him pardoned. Will they succeed in obtaining a pardon and will Oliver survive until they do? Mostly AU from right before the ending of episode 6 x 22 and after most of 6 x 23. https://archiveofourown.org/works/14936172

The Mantle by @who_seeks_shall_find - Oliver and Felicity enjoy a slow morning in their bed. https://archiveofourown.org/works/15721899

Whiskey and Romance multi-chapter WIP by @mindramblingsfics - Felicity Smoak gets the opportunity of a lifetime to compete for the hand of Prince Tommy Merlyn. She is taken from her normal mundane Vegas life and is soon swept up into a lifestyle full of nobles, drama, obligations and chaos. All the while trying to stay afloat, someone else begins to win her heart, Tommy’s best friend, Oliver Queen. https://archiveofourown.org/works/14441952/chapters/33357156

It's Time by who_seeks_shall_find - Felicity and William made a few phone calls before they left for the protective custody. https://archiveofourown.org/works/15730620

The Eternal Love multi-chapter WIP by Mellowyellowdiamonds - Forced into a loveless marriage to Al Sah Him by her ageing and clearly looney adopted father Ra's Al Ghul, Felicity Smoak tries her best to plot her way out of this "terrible" marriage in a bid to regain her freedom. Her husband however has other ideas and is determined to foil her plans every step of the way. https://archiveofourown.org/works/15328269/chapters/35564142

The Paths We Take multi-chapter WIP by griever11 - Rival CEOs AU. Felicity Smoak, CEO and founder of her own company, is trying to prove herself in the cutthroat world of the technology industry among the other bigwigs in the game. Oliver Queen, recently back from the dead is trying to prove to the world that he's no longer the same man-child who went down on the Queen's Gambit and is finally worthy of his family's legacy. Both equally formidable names in the corporate world. And both with a long, complicated history with each other that no one but themselves are privy to. https://archiveofourown.org/works/15314133/chapters/35530296

Time for a Story multi-chapter WIP by @smkkbert - This fic shows Olicity and their life as a (married) couple with family. Although Olicity (and their kids) are the protagonists, other characters of Arrow and Flash make appearances. YOU NEED THIS STORY IN YOUR LIFE. http://archiveofourown.org/works/3912157/chapters/8757172

To Those I've Loved Before multi-chapter WIP by @felicityollies - Felicity Smoak is invisible. She keeps to herself, does her school work, and is pretty much under the radar in every possible way. Felicity loves love, but has never been able to take that leap of faith to be with someone else. Instead, every time she has a crush on someone, she writes them a letter and hides it away. This was all working well for her until her letters were mysteriously mailed to each of her five crushes. Based on the film: To All the Boys I've Loved Before https://archiveofourown.org/works/15736440/chapters/36588351

I'm Watching You by who_seeks_shall_find - Donna Smoak isn't exactly happy and she has a few things to say to Oliver. https://archiveofourown.org/works/15742068

Pieces of Always multi-chapter WIP by @so-caffeinated and @dust2dust34 - Life continues after Forever is Composed of Nows. Ongoing non-linear collection of family moments for the Queens. http://archiveofourown.org/works/8220479/chapters/18840356

10 Rules of Rebounding multi-chapter WIP by @smkkbert - Oliver and Felicity start a sex relationship as rebounds for each other. What’s supposed to be just fun, soon gets complicated when it turns out that their work lives collide, Robert Queen fears their sexual relationship could threaten his company and an ex comes back into the play. https://archiveofourown.org/works/15403404/chapters/35749620

Unexpected Meeting or Fate? multi-chapter WIP by CaptainSammyAngel - Since she was a little girl, Felicity Smoak has been apart of the League of Assassins. While Oliver Queen for the past six months has been the CEO of Queen Consolidated and trying to keep it afloat. When the League decides to start the hunt of Malcolm Merlyn in the last place he was located, two people will meet but circumstances and pasts will make it difficult for them to be together. Will they find a way or will they be torn apart? https://archiveofourown.org/works/15007139/chapters/34783916

Deep Water multi-chapter WIP by @it-was-a-red-heeler - A Season 7 Speculation fic. https://archiveofourown.org/works/15081917/chapters/34968092

Shut Your Mouth by who_seeks_shall_find - Oliver wants to enjoy a calm dinner with his family but a few drunken men have something to say about the Green Arrow. https://archiveofourown.org/works/15753147

| ONE | (Oliver the Footballer) multi-chapter WIP @someonesaidcake - Felicity Smoak had a plan; to save enough money to kick her monotonous job and start up the company of her dreams. She made good plans, solid plans, attainable plans. He was never part of her plan. His name was Oliver Queen, the reclusive Brazilian football star with a broken smile and a story to tell. He'd never planned on her either. https://archiveofourown.org/works/15005402/chapters/34779542

Falling for an Angel multi-chapter WIP by @missafairy - What happens if an angel falls from the sky? Oliver Queen is a respected club owner in his hometown - Starling City. His life abruptly changes when one night he finds a beautiful girl claiming to have fallen from heaven. With her wings tucked into a jacket he helps her navigate her now human life while trying not to fall in love. Nothing can go wrong even if she drinks all of his coffee and cries in the shower, right? http://archiveofourown.org/works/9368912/chapters/21209975

In a Perfect World multi-chapter WIP by @smoaking-greenarrow - Based on a prompt: "What if Oliver (being cut off from Queens billions) follows his true passion - photography, meets Felicity and they become THE internet famous family of the world?" Oliver fell in love with photography after he received his first camera at sixteen years old. Now, he spends his time alone, traveling around the world and capturing breathtaking moments- like the beautiful woman he meets on a beach one night. https://archiveofourown.org/works/15758463/chapters/36651615

A Parent's Love by @smkkbert - When the Queen Kids come home for a weekend with their parents and siblings, Millie tells Oliver something she has been keeping secret so far. http://smkkbert.tumblr.com/post/177235474400/a-parents-love

Too Much Blood by who_seeks_shall_find - William suffered from terrible nightmares when his dad was in prison although Felicity always tried to help him. https://archiveofourown.org/works/15757143

// @emmaamelia95 // @mel-loves-all // @oliverfel4 // @green-arrows-of-karamel // @coal000 // @miriam1779 // @memcjo// @captainolicitysbedroom // @tdgal1 // @spaztronautwriter // @lalawo1// @quiveringbunny // @wrongshipper // @thebookjumper // @vaelisamaza // @myhauntedblacksoul // @lovelycssefan // @laurabelle2930 //

#FabulousOlicityFanficFriday #olicity fanfiction #fic recs

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whistlingpig · 3 years

Text

I’m going to vanish for a while, but before I do, I think I should explain myself so nobody gets the wrong idea:

A few days ago, I stumbled across a TikTok video of a fat girl showing off her bathing suit. Against my better judgement, I looked at the comment section. It was filled with trolls repeating the same tired fat jokes I’ve heard a thousand times before. At this point, they shouldn’t hurt. But they do. And I haven’t been able to get them out of my head

Every time I’m forced to share the same space with another human being, I find myself wondering... do they feel this way about me? Are they offended by my stomach, my rolls, my chins? Are they just pretending to be nice?

It’d be different if being fat was the only thing I had working against me, but I’m also extremely socially awkward, stupid, and uncoordinated. I stumble over my words, I lisp, I blurt out dumb observations at the wrong times, ask questions with obvious answers. Furniture creaks when I sit on it, I breathe heavy, I’m clumsy/accident prone, and I’m ugly!

If I had my way, I’d live like a hermit. I’ve never enjoyed socializing; it’s draining for me. Even after a positive social interaction, I need to retreat to the safety of my bedroom and recharge for several days As the saying goes: you don’t just marry a person - you marry the whole family. It’s true. And for me, it’s been a never-ending nightmare of awkward exchanges. I’m quite certain at this point that my father-in-law despises me. Why wouldn’t he, after all? I’ve never given him a reason to like me! I believe my mother-in-law simply tolerates me because it’s necessary in order to keep in contact with her beloved son. I think... long before we ever actually met, they formed negative opinions of me based on things Jim told them: that I was an alcoholic, that I was in and out of the hospital for various ‘mystery’ ailments, that I was pushy, physically violent when drunk, mentally ill, and unable to work. I’m definitely not the person they hoped their son would spend the rest of his life with

It’s not my intention to catalogue every passive-aggressive remark my in-laws make around me.. I don’t want to be the kind of person who collects grievances and plays the victim-card. That’s what my sister does! However, because I have such thin skin, I find it difficult to let other peoples’ comments roll off my back

A couple of recent examples:

- My MIL asked Jim and me to take a couple photos of her with her husband. We happily obliged. When we’d finished, she insisted they turn the camera on us. I laughed it off and said I don’t do photos. She just wouldn’t take no for an answer, though.. She kept telling us to pose. Jim could sense I was panicking - he pulled his mom aside to explain that I’m very uncomfortable with having my photo taken. She finally relented and I thought “whew, crisis averted!”. But later, as we were standing on the porch together, she turned to me and said, “if I ever take a photo of you, just know I’m not trying to steal your soul.” I just laughed. She doesn’t know I used to spend hours photographing myself from different angles, then circling the parts of my body I hated most. She doesn’t know I used to cover my mirrors. She doesn’t know how unhealthy my relationship with my own body is. And how could she? It’s my problem, not hers! But her flippant remark not only hurt my feelings, it made me feel as if my past trauma had somehow inconvenienced HER. I should have sucked it up and let her take the photo. She would have showed it to us. I would have spent the night having a meltdown. I wanted to avoid that

- We accompanied my MIL to the church to look at leftovers from a rummage sale. The idea was to get some cheap clothes/shoes. As soon as we arrived, I started looking for things I might be able to wear. Jim wandered off to the other end of the building to look at toys. He kept holding up silly items to show me and at one point I jokingly said, “hey, you aren’t even looking at clothes!!” His mom must have thought I was genuinely angry because she kinda snapped at me that “he can look at other things if he wants.” Jim and I engage in playful banter all the time; neither of us are serious! It isn’t the first time she’s felt the need to rush to his defense when she didn’t like the way we were kidding around. It’s kind of bizarre? She got angry when we were going through his old school journals and laughing at the misspelled words/crayon drawings. We weren’t laughing at JIM! Just at the silly things he wrote/drew.

- Today I was putting together a small package for my mom. I went in the bedroom to get a piece of paper for a note & when I came back out to the living room, Jim was gone. I said, “I never know where my husband goes! He vanished again!” My FIL replied: “It’s a husband thing. He’s doing it to save himself.” Maybe he said protect? I can’t recall. Either way, the gist of the joke was that husbands need to get away from their wives so they don’t go crazy. I laughed and sarcastically said, “oh come on, I know he loves spending every waking moment of his life with me.” Didn’t catch whatever FIL said next, but I think it must’ve been mean-spirited or something because MIL apologized on his behalf. This was shortly before I was reminded of the 4th of July, 2018. When I was pressured into trying to ride a horse, AFTER I’d expressed concerns over my weight being an issue. She insisted I try to get in the saddle, even though I wasn’t comfortable. It ended with her in the ER with a dislocated shoulder. Jack was furious. Today I was reminded about how he had to drive her to the ER and spend the evening in the waiting room with a bunch of weirdos. Just a joke, of course. But not really. Because he really was angry. And it really did ruin his night. But just a joke, of course.

I feel like everyone expected some sort of magical transformation to occur as soon as I was removed from the toxic shithole I used to live in. Maybe they thought I’d “come out of my shell”? That, instead of being overwhelmed, I’d embrace the idea of joining their enormous family and fit right in! The opposite happened. At first, I forced myself to be around them... As time went on, I returned to my reclusive lifestyle. Keeping others at arm’s length might make me look like a snob, but it’s how I’ve always been. It probably won’t change any time soon.

MIL and I are very different. When I get a package, I wait for the UPS driver to leave before I run out to grab it. She’ll meet the UPS driver at the door and have a 45-minute conversation with him

Anyway, the bottom line is.... I don’t belong here. After almost a year, I can say that with confidence. I’m not cut out to be part of a family! This has been weighing on my mind heavily for the past several months. Now I’m beginning to obsess over my weight/appearance again. I’m an insecure mess. I’m also rationing my medications........ it’s a perfect recipe for disaster

The other night, Jim’s cousin asked us over for hot dogs & drinks. I made an appearance - ONLY because it’s been so long since I’ve seen him and his girlfriend. I don’t want them to think I’m avoiding them! I feel like it didn’t go very well, though... As a fat person, eating in front of others is always complicated. On the one hand, I don’t want to offend the host by refusing food they cooked specifically for me. On the other, I don’t want to attract attention by being a fat woman eating a hot dog, lmao. The right thing to do would have been to decline - to give the impression I actually give a rat’s ass about my weight. Jim’s cousin’s girlfriend did that - and she probably only weighs like 100 pounds. I noticed, every time I took a bite of my hot dog, she stared. Why? Because you’re disgusted? Entertained? Are you asking yourself what my husband sees in me? You ignore everything I post on Instagram, but you like everything my husband posts. I notice these things. I wish I didn’t, but I do. I drank a cider. I got tipsy. I laughed a little too loud at jokes that weren’t funny. My teeth were throbbing. I made a bad impression. She kept looking at me, but every time I tried to make eye contact, she turned away

I could lose weight. By that, I mean, it’s physically possible. Do I have the self-control to stop guzzling soda and eating fast food? Probably not. But I’m off the market, I’m married, my husband likes to grind his hard dick against my stomach and knead my love-handles while I lie on top of him. Does it matter what anyone else thinks? I guess it does. Maybe It does when nobody knows he likes me this way. That he tells me he prefers fat women

Yeah, I could lose weight. Do I really want to, though? If I lost 100 pounds & suddenly began receiving compliments from the same people who treated me like a leper when I was fat.... Would I want that? No. You can take your beauty-standards and shove them up your ass. I don’t want to lose weight to win the approval of people who wouldn’t give me the time of day when I was fat

But it isn’t her fault she was disgusted by me. She takes care of her body

You know what I want? More than anything? Money. Enough money to live comfortably. Alone. I don’t want to die. I just want to remove myself from this bad situation. Live in solitude. Give Jim back to his family

And I want to vanish from the internet, too. Because if you knew me in real life, you’d be disappointed. If you like me online, it just means I’ve somehow managed to fool you. I would like to be forgotten! Move on, make real friends, and succeed!

I’m not stupid. I mean, I am. But I’m aware my social media accounts are just a source of entertainment for the handful of people who follow ‘em. I’m not quite... oh, what do they call it on Kiwifarms? A Lolcow? My meltdowns occur on a small, mostly empty corner of the internet. At least they’re still funny

Thanks for reading, if you did. I’ll be going now.

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rustyyart · 3 years

Photo

I did a thing! Drew some actual OCs for the first time in a while. This post is about to get long so I’ll put the rest in the break. These were my first ever OCs so I have a LOT to say. Not that anyone’s reading so I’ll just use this as a time marker for future me.

Tbh I’m pretty sure the redesigns had long sleeves besides the tube top. Whoops.

Drawn: December 4, 2020

You asked for it.

Heart

My first ever OC as far as I can remember? I might’ve created Amber before her, but all of my OCs were named “Girl” or “Boy” for an embarrassingly long time. Hell, these are still named after their symbols. First drawn in 4th grade when I was nine, Heart was originally on the Titanic and was created when I was bored in class and remembered I had seen part of the movie Titanic the night before. She played the part of Rose and I mostly drew the part where it sank LMAO. She gets home to her sister (Flower) and is like “It sank” and Flower is like “Aw.” and then they go off and played video games. IDK I was a master of comics.

Heart is in a really weird place. She was this really tough tomboy who protected her more feminine sister and got into trouble a lot. She’s always been a self insert, but from 2009 - 2011 she was more of a power fantasy. She talked back to teachers and spent tons of money on whatever 9yo me wanted at the time. I remember Flower scolding her that they could only play on the computer for half an hour once a year.

When I hit middle school, and thus a new school and new people, she became a shy, almost reclusive character to fit me. I discovered anime when I was 11, so she got tsundere style mood swings. Sun and Cloud were created around that time, I think. Embarrassing real world counterparts later and she, like me, can/could barely function in their presence. A complete 180 to original her. Wow, a look into Heart’s character progression and I see myself devolving into the hermit I am today.

Obviously Heart (as a concept) is a major part of my person. RustyyHeart with my older usernames being Heart*something*. I probably just exposed more middle school cringe to the internet than I’m preparing for, but whatever. RustyyHeart was a rebrand to get away from the feminine nature of the word “heart” or straight up announcing I was a girl. I’ve since accepted the name Rusty instead, despite 14yo me fretting it sounded like a guy’s name. RustyyHeart was the work of a random name generator and I’ve loved it ever since.

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Flower

Heart’s twin sister Flower has been about the same the whole time she’s been around. Besides the Titanic sinking, she’s been by Heart’s side almost all the time. I made them have drama here and there, but they’ve always made up somehow. She isn’t particularly based on anyone, but would occasionally mold into whoever was my best friend at the time. I made her because I always felt lonely whenever I couldn’t hang out with my best friends from school. Go a step further, make a twin sister.

I’m drawing a blank on her character development, to be honest. Flower has just kind of been... there. Generally upbeat and happy and always slightly better at everything than Heart. Pre middle school, she was basically Heart v2 except she did the Dreamworks face way less often. Post middle school, she was the accidental pretty girl and Heart was jealous. She gained a bust sometime after my discovery of anime and I even occasionally made sure to draw that she wore frilly underwear. Can you tell I watched the wrong kind of anime way too young? Flower unintentionally ended up stealing the interests of Sun and Cloud.

I’m not proud of her design at the moment, but I like that I kept the pigtails on the sides of her head instead of moving them. It makes her stand out in comparison to Heart. I don’t really know if I’ll leave either’s outfit like this, granted Heart hasn’t changed much since 2012, but I want to fix them into real characters instead of whatever young me threw together.

I also noticed that somewhere in a redesign phase, Flower got significantly lighter than Heart. I made this whole post and idea about this specifically. Teenage me actually committed colorism against my own OCs. Heart was redesigned in middle school to be “ugly” to mimic all my crushes turning me down, while Flower was “pretty.” I realized that while drawing the two for the first time yesterday. Heart is overweight, darker skin tone, and painfully shy. Flower is hourglass figure, lighter skin tone, and outgoing. Something’s wrong here. In all my comics and drawings they were identical in tone or it wasn’t colored at all. I changed the skin tones within the past couple years. Holy internal bias.

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You wanna talk forgotten, dumpstered OCs? =D has got you covered. Yes her name is “Equals D” and I hate it too. She’s probably my first exploration into bisexuality TBH and was based on Kari from the Incredibles. She first met Heart and Flower when they went to a spa and she was their... idk servant I guess. She washed their hair because that’s what 9yo me thought happened at spas. I made her a punching bag character, Heart and Flower making fart noises to get on her nerves. Again, comedy genius over here. Imagine the twins’ shock when I made her their permanent live in babysitter, once again taking from her source. So they Home Alone her until she’s like “I find farts funny too!” and the twins were like “:o She’s cool!” Bam! Conflict solved!

I’m impressed at the fact younger me drew her differently than the other two. She had braces and a ponytail. Ok, I didn’t say it was an original design, it’s more of a fan art situation, but I tried something different. Every girl in my comics had the swirl pigtails besides her. She eventually lost the braces because I got tired of drawing them and they started escaping the boundaries of her mouth every time. I remember in the original comic I drew her smiling for the first time in a good amount of pages and put braces on with a caption “Remember these?” I was the only one reading my own comic YES I remember my own stolen design.

I think I changed her to older sister in the redesign in middle school. How weird would a permanent, live in ex-spa employee be? She’s the no-nonsense type who frequently injures herself attempting to be a mother figure. Think Nani from Lilo and Stitch being her main source from that point on. Her only appearance in the comic before I stopped writing it was her burning her hand and hitting her head making breakfast. She drives them to school and they never come home~~~ AKA I got started on my self insert fanfiction phase where my OCs got locked away for 2 years. She never got any attention since then and has only changed designs away from Meroko from Full Moon. Showing your stomach was strictly forbidden in my hyper holy Christian household growing up, so having her have her stomach out was a mark of being an older person. Winking Equals D, later renamed Jix, is/was near constantly shirtless as he is a male version of her and I had no guys IRL to base him off of.

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WOW that was a lot. Thank you for getting through it! I’m sorry I rambled so much. It’s 7:13 am and I finished =D at 6:08. I wanted to get all my feelings down so if I ever redo them, I can look at this and see what I thought. Feel free to leave a suggestion. I want the twins to keep their pigtails and =D to keep a ponytail though, just to keep their origins together. I’ve tried renaming them Scarlett, Flora, and Nina, but the names just don’t stick.

#My OC: Heart #My OC: Flower #My OC: Equals D #The thing on Flower's head is a headband and I still can't draw those RIP #It's actually fun to draw in younger me's doodle style with the db legs #Heart's cowlick was actually only on the left side whoops

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natasha-cole · 7 years

Text

Ready Steady Part 13

Ok, I feel like I really hurt everyone’s feelings with Part 12… so, here you go. Have some more angst. I might have fixed things?

Summary: Reader has just broken Rob’s heart and spends weeks ignoring him. She focuses on a new career in music, but her plans may be derailed when the unexpected happens.

Word Count: 6061

Warnings: mostly angst, mention of vomit which might be gross, fluff

Note: For the sake of the remainder of the fic, I’m using some old Louden Swain songs and making them new ones. Also, as you can tell, my reader is a singer/songwriter and a country girl at heart… so for her, instead of trying to write my own lyrics, I’m using songs by Miranda Lambert and claiming them as the reader’s own. Hey, this way, you can listen to the actual songs after you read!

In this part, the Reader performs “Things That Break” by Miranda Lambert.

Another Note: There’s a lot of time jumping going on here, I just wanted to get it across that the reader hasn’t seen or spoken to Rob in a couple of months.

Catch up: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

*Unrelated gif, just because he’s a cutie.*

The following weeks were not easy. You had collected your things from Rob’s place and left, holing yourself up in a hotel for a while. You followed through with the restraining order against Chris, knowing that it might be the only thing you could do to get him to leave you alone. You did your part, filing the paperwork, receiving a temporary restraining order for a while, and then having to attend a court date. The hardest part of it all was being in the same room as him. You were forced to relive the past abuse, something that had never really come easy to you. You had enough proof that he was dangerous to you; threatening text messages and a photo of your most recent run in with him, which Rob had insisted on taking after he had seen the bruise. You felt grateful to him for that since you didn’t have anyone to serve as a witness to the past few years of your relationship with Chris.

After some time in the court room, you eventually got your restraining order. You breathed a sigh of relief as it stated that Chris couldn’t be within 100 feet of you, forced him from your residence (since the home you had shared was in your name), and made sure that he stopped contact with you in any way.

You were eventually able to return to your home. Only now, it didn’t feel like home as you stood in your living room. It had been weeks since you left Rob. But, you still felt yourself missing his company, missing his place and how safe you felt there. Sure, you had a restraining order against Chris now, but you knew it was a piece of paper. A document that didn’t really protect you from anything. You only felt slight relief in knowing that Chris wasn’t a complete idiot. He wouldn’t do anything to get himself into trouble.

You began to work on erasing your past from your home, hoping that it would help you to move on. Every photo and memory that you shared with Chris during your tumultuous relationship went in the trash. You had no regrets as you worked at getting rid of him completely. The only regret that you felt now is what you had done to Rob. As you worked and cleaned, you kept replaying those words in your head, “I should have never told you that I loved you.” Your heart ached all over again at the lie, in fact, it had never stopped aching. You had spent the past few weeks thinking of him, no matter how hard you tried not to. You had hoped that you had hurt him enough to keep him away, but the weeks had been filled with phone calls that you didn’t answer and text messages that you left on read. No matter how badly you wanted to answer his calls and talk to him or how much you wanted to text him back telling him that you made a mistake, you remained strong in your decision to not have him involved in this.

Sometimes, you would listen to his voicemails that you kept saved on your phone, just to hear his voice. A move that you knew was stupid, because it only made things worse. You would replay them, crying at how hurt he sounded as he questioned what had happened and why you had done this.

Not only were you screening his calls, but you found yourself avoiding calls from his friends. You knew that they had to know by now. The group had just been at a convention in North Carolina a couple of weekends ago, you knew because it was one that Rob had insisted you attend with him. But those plans had been shattered. Now, you were sure that they recognized that their friend was not okay. Perhaps he had told them everything. They had to know something had happened, because you were getting calls and texts from Kim, Briana, and even Rich. You had opted to ignore them completely, especially their voicemails. You really didn’t need Rob’s friends telling you how horrible you were for hurting him.

You avoided social media, as you usually did. You were all too familiar with how these conventions popped up all over the internet, fans discussing the event in depth, photos of the cast and crew plastered all over. You couldn’t bring yourself to know what he was doing and how he was doing right now.

After spending most of the day cleaning and gutting your house, you sat on the couch. You felt suddenly alone, and sad. Even with all of the memories gone, it still felt foreign to you. You hadn’t been home in over a month, and you began to feel like this was not where you belonged. You knew where your place was, but it couldn’t happen. Not when you couldn’t be sure that Rob was safe and not involved in this. Getting the restraining order did not necessarily guarantee his safety, you knew that. Hell, it didn’t even guarantee yours. You knew that this was the only way. You had to keep yourself away from Rob.

You had been back home for some time, learning to be on your own again. It had been another couple of weeks before you decided to get back to work. The pain that you constantly felt over losing Rob never did subside like you expected it to. But you still kept your distance, and used your music to vent instead. You wrote constantly now, playing sad music on your guitar, crying to yourself as you sang the new songs you had been writing. Every time you opened the journal that Rob had given you, you felt immense guilt. Guilt over how you had ended things, guilt over having lied to him so much, You were wallowing in self-pity and you knew it. You hadn’t even left your house in days, you were too sad, too focused on releasing your pain into songs. After a few days of this, you knew you had to do something. You had to do anything to keep yourself from losing it.

You spoke to a friend in the business who was willing to give you some time in the studio.

“What? You’re abandoning the reclusive songwriter persona to become a performer now?” he had asked jokingly as you walked into the studio, your old acoustic in hand.

“Something like that,” you laughed, “I’ve just been working on a lot of things for a few months, and they’re just not songs that I want to give away,” you thought about Rob’s comment to you considering songwriting. He had told you once that he couldn’t understand how you could give away your words to someone else. You had laughed it off at the time, but now you understood what he meant. Sometimes, certain words weren’t meant for anyone else.

You spent the entire week in the studio, just recording everything that you had poured your heart into. By the end of the week, your agent had called, asking about your recording session. You sat in the studio, guitar still in hand as you answered his questions. You explained to him that you felt ready to branch out.

“Really?” he asked you as you spoke with him over the phone, “my elusive poet… what changed?”

You thought hard at the question, knowing exactly what had changed your mind, “I don’t know Mark, just life I guess. I no longer have someone telling me that I can’t do it. I met someone who told me that I should sing… “you trailed off, thinking about Rob again.

“Well, I don’t know who this person is, but I’m glad someone got through to you. I’ve been saying for years that you need to sing your own songs.”

“I know, it just took some time for me to realize that I could do it,” you replied, smiling at his statement.

“Look, I can check into maybe booking you somewhere to play live. Might be something small, there are enough people who are at least familiar with you as a songwriter, I’m sure we could get a great turn out.”

“I think that would be a great idea,” you said, unsure of what was coming over you. You had always been very quiet, not wanting to be known. But here you were, making plans to get yourself out there as a musician.

“I’ll keep in touch and we’ll get something put together.” Your agent assured you, “and hey, I really am glad you’ve finally decided to do this.”

“Me too,” you said. You silently praised Rob for this. He had been the one to encourage you. Although you had damaged that relationship beyond repair, you had never stopped loving him. You never stopped thinking about him. In a way, you were doing all of this because of him. He had believed in you and you felt it your obligation to give it a try, for him… no matter how much he must hate you right now.

You left the studio that evening feeling excited about everything. It felt good to be doing something that you had always wanted to do, but were told that you would fail at. You pulled your phone out as you walked to your car, immediately thinking about calling Rob to tell him what you had been up to. Of course, you stopped yourself, kicking yourself for even thinking about it. You often found yourself doing this; getting the phone out to call him, as if it were nothing. No matter how long it had been since you had even seen him last, he still felt like home. He still felt like the only person that you could turn to with these things. You pocketed your phone again and made your way to your car.

As you worked at unlocking the door, a sudden wave of nausea came over you. You stopped, feeling slightly dizzy, steadying yourself with one hand against the car. You forced yourself not to vomit right then and there, and eventually the nausea passed. Great, now you were getting sick just as you were working on your songs. You shook your head at your luck. “If it isn’t one thing, it’s another,” you said out loud to yourself. When you were sure the nausea wasn’t coming back, you got into your car and made your way home.

Suddenly exhausted as you entered your house, you didn’t bother with changing your clothes. You plopped down on your bed, willing away another round of nausea that hit you. You thought about what you had eaten earlier, you were sure that it wasn’t anything that would make you sick. You and your friend had ordered from a restaurant that you ate at regularly with no issues. You figured you were just coming down with something, so you laid in bed until you fell asleep.

You woke up, darting out of bed, making it to the bathroom just in time to realize that you willing away the nausea wasn’t going to work anymore. When you had finished, you splashed your face with cold water from the sink, looking at yourself in the mirror. This was no time to get sick. You looked exhausted, and you felt it too.

You made your way back to your room. Finding your phone, you called your friend at the studio to let him know that you weren’t feeling well and had to take the day off. You hung up and changed into comfier clothes before crawling back into bed to rest. You laid in bed for a few hours, watching episodes of Supernatural. You had started them while in Nashville and never really had the time to keep going. You knew you were only putting yourself through unnecessary pain as you were on season 4, because you knew Rob’s episodes were coming up. You felt that you could push through them though, but when his face showed up on the screen, you could only shut the TV off. It was still too painful. And you felt so sick right now that you didn’t want to add heartbreak to the equation.

Your agent called as you were lost in thought. You answered and he began to explain that he had found a venue for you to play and that there was already interest in the music industry for some big wigs to come see you play. You offered “uh-huhs” and “yeahs” in response to his plans, still fighting back the urge to vomit.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” he asked, concern in his voice.

“Nothing, I think I’ve just come down with something… the flu maybe. I’ve been throwing up all morning.”

“Dang, that’s too bad. Have you at least eaten today?” he was using his dad voice now. You laughed at his concern. He always did treat you like one of his kids.

“No. I can’t leave my house. I’m pretty miserable and don’t think I can fend for myself,” you whined, looking for sympathy.

“I’ll have something sent over,” he offered. You thanked him before ending the call, grateful to have one person who cared for you in your life still.

You were able to climb out of bed and answer the door when the delivery came. You thanked the young mad for bringing the food, being sure to tip him for his troubles. You glanced at the receipt, noticing that your agent had sent over some soup and a sandwich. Your mouth watered as you realized how starved you were. The meal would be light enough to not make you feel worse.

However, when you opened the cup of soup, another bout of nausea hit you as you smelled the aroma. You raced to the bathroom again, not sure why you had such a sudden aversion to the smell of chicken noodle soup. You had nothing in your stomach, you only waited for the dry heaving to pass; feeling more miserable than ever.

You sat on the cold bathroom floor, thinking hard about what had made you so sick. You hadn’t eaten anything spoilt, in fact, you had felt fine all day yesterday… even hours later after your last meal. You hadn’t been around anyone who had been sick. You thought about your symptoms for a moment, trying to piece together what this was.

Sudden nausea, exhaustion, food aversion… then it hit you. You felt your heart race at the realization. This couldn’t be happening right now, but it was the only thing that made sense.

“Fuck,” you said out loud, running your hands through your hair as another wave of nausea rushed over you.

Days later, you sat in the studio again. You had been feeling a bit better, still battling the nausea occasionally. You were able to push through more recording even though singing the songs made you even more emotional now than when you had actually written them. After a particular difficult take of a song, you decided to take a break, relaxing on the sofa for a moment. You held your phone in your hand, hovering your thumb over Rob’s name in your contact list as you had noticed yourself doing for the past couple days. You knew you had to call him eventually. This wasn’t something that you could keep from him, it was too cruel.

You thought back to the day when the realization had hit you. You had managed to force yourself from your house to get to the store, somehow making in there and back without throwing up everywhere. You had returned home, shaking as you waited for the dreaded result to show up on that stupid little stick. What felt like hours of waiting, had only been mere minutes as the plus sign appeared. Beforehand, you weren’t sure what you were feeling. You were sure that you were pregnant, and you didn’t feel too panicked about it at the time. It wasn’t until you saw the result that you lost it, curled up on your bathroom floor, crying harder than you had ever cried.

After the initial shock, came the numbness. You had gone through the past three days almost oblivious to any emotion. Even after seeing the doctor, who confirmed that you were pregnant. Your breakdowns in the studio were not so much a result of being overly sad, you actually didn’t know why you were crying half the time. You chalked it up to hormones.

A million thoughts had been racing through your mind. You thought of how stupid you had been… how stupid you had both been. Not only did you rush into the short-lived romance, but neither of you had even thought to be careful about it. You thought about Rob a lot. You thought about where he might be, what he was doing, who he was with. You wondered if he was okay. The phone calls and messages had died out recently. You knew that he must have finally taken a hint and realized that you didn’t want to talk to him. A larger part of you wished that he was still blowing up your phone. You missed him. You missed him terribly. But you reminded yourself that you had broken his heart and left him giving him no real explanation, you had successfully ignored him for going on two months in an attempt to keep him out of the mess that Chris had created. You felt sick at the realization of how long it had been since you had seen him last. It wasn’t getting easier, and your current situation made it that much more difficult.

You decided again, not to call him. You knew you should, he deserved to know. But you didn’t feel ready for that yet. You weren’t sure if you would ever feel ready, but all you could do was keep trying to find that moment when you would break it to him.

Before you knew it, another couple of weeks had passed. You still hadn’t called Rob, and the guilt that you were feeling about that began to gnaw at the back of your mind. You thought about it constantly. Wondering why you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

Now, you had to prepare for this show tonight that you had foolishly agreed to. You were surprised at how much interest was shown. Your agent told you that there were some important people who would be there. The tickets themselves sold out surprisingly quick. You remembered that although you weren’t a performer, many people were still familiar with your name as it was attached to some popular songs recorded by big artists. At least you had a small enough following of people who respected you as a songwriter. You were beginning to have second thoughts though.

Maybe it was nerves, or the fact that you constantly felt sick and exhausted, but you really began to regret your decision of going through with this. You weren’t even sure if you could get up there in front of everyone and sing without breaking down. The crying was happening so often now. Your out of control hormones mixed with your sadness that you still felt over Rob were really making you a mess. But you had to do it. A lot of people had went through so much to get this set up for you.

You got ready at home, taking your time, still uncomfortable with the queasiness in your stomach. You had been trying everything you had read about to ease morning sickness. Not much was working and you worried that you might be so nervous tonight that you would lose it on stage. You pushed those thoughts away, focusing on getting ready before you had to leave.

You arrived at the venue, realizing only now that this was the same venue that you had watched Rob’s band play in months earlier. It was the same place that you broke his heart. You felt a pang in your chest as you replayed that night in your mind. You wished that you had paid more attention to where this thing was set up at, maybe then you could have avoided it altogether. Sighing heavily, you forced yourself out of the car and made your way inside.

Your agent, Mark, was already waiting for you when you entered the room.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, bringing you into a hug, “are you excited? Nervous? Need a drink?”

You smirked at him, “so excited I could throw up, so nervous I could literally run out of here right now, and I’ll take a hard pass on the drink,” you answered him truthfully causing him to laugh loudly.

“That’s my girl!” he said, clapping his hand on your back, “let’s get you set up, you’re on in about an hour.”

You gave him a nervous smile and followed him as he led you to the stage that you were all too familiar with. You quietly began to unpack your guitar, setting it up before you began to place the microphone stand where you wanted it.

“You still play that old thing?” he asked, motioning toward your guitar.

“Yeah, I find that my others don’t really have the same soul to them as this one does…” you trailed off, running your hand down its neck, “we’ve been through a lot together.” Mark smiled at your sentiment.

“I’m sure she still sounds amazing.”

“Oh, she does. I’ve written a lot of songs with her.” You faked a smile, only remembering all of the songs that you would sing tonight were going to be painful ones.

It all happened so quickly, the start of your first show. You were suddenly up on stage, lights blaring in your face, the room filled with people that you didn’t know. You felt sick to your stomach the entire time, but managed to keep it together for the most part.

You played a handful of songs, trying hard not to cry as your emotions built up over the meanings behind them. Near the end of your set, it had become a little easier. You were talking in between songs, sharing short stories about the writing process. You glanced around the room, trying to take it all in now that you weren’t so nervous. You were actually smiling and feeling happy to be there. The crowd was great, cheering you on and applauding you after each song ended. You wanted to see their faces, all of these people who had come out to support you. As you were scanning the room, you began to explain your final song.

“This one is called, ‘Things That Break’ and I guess it’s about not really understanding love…” you trailed off again, still scanning the crowd. You glanced toward the back of the room and your heart skipped a beat. You stopped on the man standing in the back. “It couldn’t be…” you thought to yourself. But the harder you stared, the more you recognized him, even with these lights in your face. You didn’t want to look uncomfortable up here in front of all these people, so you cleared your throat, finishing your train of thought, “it’s about hurting people and realizing that it’s best to stay away from things that break so easily.”

You never looked away from him as you said these words. You couldn’t bring yourself to. Strangely, it was your way of explaining everything to him the best you could. You wondered why he was there in the first place. It had literally been months since you had seen each other, yet there he was. You felt the ache return as you began to play.

I was born a bull in a china cabinet Drawn to the delicate like it’s a magnet Perfume bottles on a mirror tray Tempered glass on a window pane Timeless face on a pocket watch Time is ticking I leave it all in ruins Cause I don’t know what I’m doing I’m hard on things that matter Hold a heart so tight it shatters So I stay away from things that break

You played through the song, trying hard not to stare at Rob in the back of the room. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, nervousness coursing through you as you tried to comprehend the fact that he was there. You didn’t want to see how he was looking at you, you were sure he was there to eventually confront you over what you had put him through. You closed your eyes tight, trying not to cry. You couldn’t deal with this right now, but you finished the song, only struggling through at the last verse and chorus.

Me, I don’t ever wanna get too close Or be held responsible For all the pain that you can’t see Somebody once broke me I leave it all in ruins Cause I don’t know what I’m doing I’m hard on things that matter Hold a heart so tight it shatters So I stay away from things that break

When you were done, the crowd cheered louder and it seemed as if the praises would never stop. You averted your eyes to the floor, thanking everyone, waiting for the moment when you could leave. You had felt pretty confident up there, right up until you spotted Rob. Now, all you could think about was escaping and going home. But you knew you’d have to stay to mingle.

Luckily, when you did leave the stage, you were quickly surrounded by some of the guests from the industry. You half-listened to them praise you and discuss recording and getting you out there as an artist. Things that should have had your complete attention were lost to you right now. You found yourself glancing around the room, checking to see if Rob was still there. You didn’t spot him though, even after searching for a while. You figured that he had left, realizing that he shouldn’t have been there in the first place. You relaxed a bit, losing yourself in the conversations and excitement over your first performance.

The night had ended, guests and fans had slowly trickled out of the venue. You were left with Mark, still basking in the excitement of the night.

You took his arm as you headed for the doors to leave.

“That went amazingly well, Y/N,” he told you, “people are really excited about this.”

You blushed, “Thanks. It felt really good.”

As you stepped out into the cool nighttime air, you watched Mark as he headed out, smiling fondly at him.

You turned to head in the opposite direction, only taking a few steps before you stopped suddenly when you saw him standing just a few feet from you.

“Rob,” you said quietly, still shocked to even see him there.

“Hey,” he said, giving you a pained smile. He shoved his hands into his pockets nervously. The two of you stood there, staring at each other for a while, both unable to find the words to say.

“I saw that you were playing here tonight,” he began after what seemed like forever, “I really thought hard about coming back here… especially after everything…” he swallowed hard, still looking at you with sadness in his eyes.

“But,” he continued, “you wouldn’t answer my calls or my texts… and for some reason I thought it would be a good idea to just show up.”

You still didn’t know what to say to him. You stayed quiet, waiting for him to tell you off because of what you had done. God knows, you deserved it. But he didn’t. He didn’t yell at you or tell you what a horrible person you were. He waited for you to speak.

“Rob, I know this has been hard… it’s been hard on me too, but you shouldn’t have come here tonight. I don’t know what you want from me,” you were still trying to push him away, trying to be cold and unfeeling.

“I sort of feel like I at least deserve an explanation.” He explained. You could see the tears begin to well up in his eyes.

“I don’t have one for you,” you replied.

He scoffed at you, looking away, unamused by your coldness toward him.

“I know you do. I know that something happened that night that made you freak out. I know you didn’t mean what you said…”

“I’ve been ignoring your calls for a reason,” you said, cutting him off. Even you flinched at the harshness in your words.

“Then tell me why?” he asked you, “why are you ignoring me? Why did you push me away?”

You were getting upset again. A mixture of anger at the situation and the pain of seeing him again began to grow within you. You began to cry, pissed off at the fact that any of this ever had to happen. You wanted to continue to lie to him because it was easier. You wanted to pretend that you didn’t love him and you wanted to tell him that you never wanted to see him again. In your mind, you knew that you couldn’t lie anymore. This had all been so unfair. You still wanted to keep him away from you and the possibility of Chris coming back to make your life hell again.

“I did it because I love you!” you shouted, tears streaming down your face. You hadn’t meant for that thought to leave your lips.

He stared at you, confused by your statement.

“I don’t understand…” he said, shaking his head, “how can you do that to me if you love me?”

“Because I just wanted to protect you,” you choked out, “I didn’t want you mixed up in my life anymore.”

He was silent again, so you used it to explain everything to him.

“He had someone follow me to your show that night. Some woman that I didn’t know. She told me that he had sent her there, to let me know that he knew where I was and who I was with. He knew about you. I freaked out because I know what he is capable of… and I didn’t want you to be involved in that. He was threatening you, and I had to keep you out of it.” You felt the weight that you had been carrying around for months lift off your shoulders. The weight that you carried knowing that you had lied to him and hurt him for so long.

“Y/N… why didn’t you just tell me the truth?” he asked, only now moving toward you.

“Because I’m not good at facing the truth.” You said softly, ‘it’s easier for me to just not get close to anyone, it’s easier to lie. I only ever seem to screw things up.”

Before you could continue, Rob took your face in his hands. You looked up into those blue eyes, heart racing with thoughts of what would happen next. Without saying another word, he crashed his lips into yours. You felt like you should push him away, but the feeling of having him kiss you made you change your mind. You grasped onto him, pulling him close. He moved his hands to the back of your head, fisting his hands in your hair. You kissed each other as if you had been starved for it. Your head spun and your legs weakened at the taste of him. It had been so long. You could still feel your tears staining your cheeks as he kissed you feverishly. You knew that this was not the route to take if you still wanted to keep him out of everything, but you didn’t care anymore. If he was willing to stay despite your fucked up life, you knew you couldn’t resist him forever.

When you pulled away from each other, gasping for air, he rested his forehead against yours. You hummed in appreciation at the habit that he continued to do after every time he ever kissed you.

“Please, Y/N,” was all he said after a while.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, “I never should have hurt you. I never should have lied to you.”

“I understand why… but I can’t keep going on like this,” he explained, still resting his head against yours, “I’ve been a wreck the past couple of months. I was so angry with you, I thought I could just get over you on anger alone. But I couldn’t. I can’t… I just can’t,” he stuttered out the last part of his sentence.

“What do we do?” you asked, unsure of whether or not he was trying to get you back or if he was going to choose to walk away.

“We just get through this,” he answered, moving back to look you in your eyes, “I know you don’t want me involved in all of that, but I am and I have been. I want to be.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. While you had done a damn good job of pushing him away and avoiding him for so long, you couldn’t help but feel relieved that he was still willing to fight for you.

“I was so horrible to you,” you replied, “I didn’t want to be. I just wanted to make you hate me…”

“I know, but I don’t hate you, I couldn’t.” he pulled you in to his body, holding you as if he were afraid to let go. You relaxed into him, head resting against his chest again. You breathed in deeply, getting lost in his scent for a moment. God, you had missed him so much. You didn’t know how you had become so fortunate to have him here right now after everything.

“I-I didn’t mean any of it…” your words came out stuttered, “all of those things I said to you… I didn’t mean them.”

He didn’t respond, he just continued to hold you, running a hand through your hair. After having spent months feeling so alone and sad; you found that in this small moment, you felt at home again. You weren’t sure if this would work again, especially after what you had done. But he was here, and he was fighting for you. You allowed yourself to melt into him, not wanting to ever let go again. You thought about the reasons why you had left in the first place, and you still felt that it wasn’t fair to allow him to be involved. You still wanted him safe.

But, you realized that the two of you had something that not many other people got the chance to have. You had rushed into this from the beginning, moving faster than you had ever moved with anyone. You thought back to the song that the two of you had written together when you returned from Nashville. Every time you thought that the two of you were being ridiculous, thinking that love could happen so quickly, you thought of that song. Those words were how you had felt at the time, they were still how you felt… and you knew that they were how Rob felt.

“I love you Rob…” you started, pulling away so that you could look at him, “I love you so much that it scares me sometimes.”

He turned his mouth up into a grin, running his fingertips along your cheek. “You have to know that I love you too, that’s why I showed up here. We just need to go through things together. No more pushing me away. No more hiding things from me.”

You smiled softly at him before returning to resting your head against his chest. He squeezed you tighter and you closed your eyes, thankful for having him with you again. It wasn’t until you let his words echo in your head again that you felt panic run through you. “No more hiding things from me.” You felt that familiar queasiness in your stomach return. You knew you had something to tell him, something that you had been hiding from him for weeks. You only hoped that he could be as forgiving about this secret when you finally found the opportunity to tell him.

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#rob benedict fanfiction #rob benedict x reader #ready steady

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rueur · 4 years

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Morning Pages No. 63

Wednesday 26th August - 11:57am

There’s three minutes left of the morning, and I consider that to be a victory! Also, just have to add that I’m weirdly excited that tomorrow is going to be my 23rd and a half birthday AND #64 in the morning pages, which is the square root of 8, and the answer to the equation 16 x 4 =. I’m not a maths-oriented person, so I forgot what a square root number is. It’s like the opposite of a prime number, but it’s mathematically gorgeous. Evan found us an exercise bike on Marketplace for $250! And it looks insanely nice. It’s in a superb condition, it’s exactly what we were looking for, and it’s WELL within our price range. What a freaking steal, and I also just have to add: what immensely good karma. I feel like we’re deserving of this, and it also definitely feels like such a positive sign that this was a great idea on our part. I’m feeling infinitely more keen to get rid of the futon and streamline the room we’re both currently in into being a lot more health-conscious and thus, a far better room suited to entertainment. The futon is also keeping me from doing Ringfit on a regular basis, so we’ll see once we get the bike how much easier it’ll be for me to work out at home and get myself to a more tolerable level of fit.

I’m keen to play Breath of the Wild again today because it’s been a couple of days since we last played and Evan ordered another copy from [REDACTED] this morning, so we’ll just be waiting for that to arrive today. I also want to do a bit more work on the site, because my meeting with Julie will be a week from today and I need to get it to a level that I’ll be happy to present it at, even though I know Julie will want to make some adjustments. I feel like her main gripes will be with the colour scheme, which is perfectly fine with me. That should be more than easy to adjust. And the fonts...the fonts are doing my head in. I’m still not sure how to add extra font packs. And to also connect this Squarespace website up with cPanel and VentraIP, but again, that’s not a high priority issue. We’ll need to get the website to a place where we both feel it’s good enough to publish before we even think about moving it over to VentraIP.

I’m always thinking about work. And because it’s lockdown, I’ve been thinking about when orders we’ve placed will be arriving. We’ve been ordering a fair amount of stuff, and I’m not sure if it’s out of boredom or necessity. Perhaps both? We want to break up the monotony of the day, but doing that with retail therapy seems a little reckless. We have the internet, gas, and electricity bills due and water is also most definitely on its way. And RENT, because it’s the end of the month. September 1st is going to be a Tuesday, so we’ll need to pay before my next payday, which is a touch depressing. But also I suppose it’ll be nice to know that I can retain 100% of the pay that I’ll be receiving next week! That is unless I make an online purchase.

It’s 12:06pm. I like the idea that it takes me about ten minutes to write out a page of stream of consciousness, so three pages should take around a half an hour. That’s ideal, but usually what happens is I get distracted from this process by Evan or by the animals or just generally by things that I need to do (base biological urges), OR I forgot a word, like what just happened when I was typing out ‘base biological urges’ as a gentle code for having to take a dump. So graceless, always. That’s my style, eh?

Sarah wants to have another phone call at some point today, and I think it’s mostly to chat about the way the group has been heading. People have been leaving and apparently she received her first bit of negative feedback. I’d be curious to hear what it is. I’m curious to know why Nichole left. I know she wasn’t really keeping up with the days so I suppose it makes sense? But Amy’s also not overtly keeping up with the days, which is genuinely surprising to me. I feel like Amy would be all over some well-intentioned mindfulness challenges. Sam just sent me a message that contained a painful pun. We were joking about the ethereal science that is the healing properties of cats. So cat purrs can actually heal human beings because the vibration or the frequency of the vibration has been known to promote feelings of peace in human beings. It relaxes our minds and bodies and heals our cells.

EDDIE DROPPED OFF OUR GAME! IT WAS SO GOOD TO SEE HIM and it was also just a real treat, man. He was sick last week so up until this lovely afternoon, I hadn’t seen him for like two weeks. So now Evan is playing the game AGAIN finally! Oh my fucking lord I have waited so long for him to pick up this game, he’s an idiot. And I am speaking all this out loud as I type because he’s in the room and he can hear me and I love terrorising him. AND HE DOESN’T GIVE A FLYING FUCK BECAUSE HE ON HIS PHONE THA DUMB. What a stupid smug grin. What a cute face. Aww.

He’s distracting me from this chore. No, this is all a part of my morning pages for today. You can’t say this isn’t properly a part of it, it’s STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS, fool. Do you know what stream of consciousness entails? It’s literally typing/writing as you think. So anything that I’m thinking, belongs in these pages. Get out of the room. I have to finish this first and you are distracting myself from my own mind, you dumb bass. Yes, I meant to type out ‘dumb bass’, because I want to imply that you are a mute fish. I am so distracted from this task, it is infuriating. Also, please be at least a little bit impressed by my touch-typing abilities. Aww. He just said he’s always impressed by everything I do. How sweet. Man, this is going to be so chaotic to read a year or so from now! All I need to remember, future self, is that Evan was in the same room as I in 847 flying high (but he was sober this morn), playing Breath of the Wild for the second time, standing up and leaning against the wall because Kelley Starrett says that we should consider sitting to be a cancer. And that for each hour of sitting you need to do however many minutes of physical activity.

Fuck, I just remembered that I told the boy that I would make pancakes for breakfast this morning, and I haven’t done that yet. And also it isn’t the morning anymore. Whoops. I am so happy that I got to see Eddie today though. I’m also just glad that he’s okay, I was worried that he had the ‘rona. Can you put the switch on the TV? I want to see you play. That’s the whole point of getting both games. Give me a second. Okay, he grabbed the remote. This isn’t actually promoting mindfulness too much, because of all the activity around me. But look. I’ve maintained this practice pretty damn well for the past week. I’ve written around 2000 words each day for ten or so days straight now. That’s pretty neat. I’m happy with this. I also kind of hope that I can make time to take Lonzo out again today, hopefully well before 5:30pm, so I can talk to Sarah without feeling too fatigued.

I’m fighting the urge to end this third page here. I just want to go on with my day! And I don’t know how many epiphanies I’ll be having in these pages today. I mean, I wrote my last three pages so dang recently, this entry just feels quite arbitrary. But I suppose that’s my own fault. I shouldn’t have done yesterday’s pages at 10pm last night, that’s just basic. Morning pages 101: do them in the morning. Otherwise they’re not as fresh, and your next entries are going to be incredibly close together. I honestly just feel like Saturday has thrown me off so much. I can’t believe it’s Wednesday and I’m still trying to play catch-up because being at work on Saturday and typing out that day’s entry over hours and hours was just...bleh. I have no words other than ‘bleh’. I’m tapped out.

The soundtrack for this game is actually so soothing. I don’t mind how minimalistic it is. In fact, the minimalistic soundscape kind of just enhances the game’s natural atmosphere and built environment! Evan just found a boomerang! Those are quite rare. Not a lizal boomerang, like an actual boomerang. I feel like I shouldn’t be watching him play or even listening or even in the same room as I finish these pages off. It seems like a major distraction. You found the Duelling Peaks stable! He’s trying to climb a shrine. Lord help me. Oooh. That must’ve been painful. Sorry, Link. Ma man a dumb bass.

Ooh these pages have just completely gone to shit. But I’m still going to finish them. I’m at around 1600 words, well just over. That means that I have about 400 to go. I’m about or over 75% of the way through! Huzzah! Ew. I don’t even like saying that sarcastically. But it makes me think of ‘Dungeons and Dragons’, and I think I’d like to play that at least once. Maybe some time after lockdown ends I can go to a game with Malith. Gale does them, so that may be a great opportunity to hang out with that gang again. I also want to do pub trivia again! I can’t believe how many innocuous events and happenings this lockdown has had me missing. It’s absurd that there was ever a time where I had the opportunity to do all these activities whenever I liked, and I just never took them, or at the very least seldom took them. But if I’m going to be completely honest with myself, I still see myself being somewhat of a recluse even after lockdown ends. I will indulge in all the newfound freedom once we do find it again, as all Melbournians will, but I won’t be going crazy. I won’t be going out every weekend. If the world opens up again, then that will mean the responsibilities of the world will be opening up again too, which is a contributing factor to my wanting to stay home and be on my own. That, and there’s always Lonzo. I don’t want to leave HIM on his own, because he never wants that, and he never gets to have a say.

This shrine looks difficult. I want to be attentive, but it looks as though I have about 100 words left, which is nothing. I’ll need to start my website for uni soon, I haven’t even thought about that at all. I’d like to pen an online essay, that’s a new experience. And Wordpress should be easy enough to master. I mean, I’ve done it before, for one. Squarespace is just so clean, though! Definitely will be using this to start up BROKEN media. I’m looking forward to that.

I’m on the fourth page now, but only at 1970 words. I feel like I’m cheating if I don’t at least get to 2000. I used a lot of paragraphs for this entry, because I mean I had a lot of distractions. 2003 words. I’m going to sign off here then. 2012. 2013. 2014. I need to stop. 2020!

#morning pages #stream of consciousness #63 #artistsway

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davidsilvercloud · 6 years

Photo

Terry David “Butch/Butch Naked” Silvercloud,

DavidSilvercloud.com (Blog)

ButchNews.com (Video)

ButchNaked.com (Photo Stream)

SeriousThunder.com (Art)

ElectronSpeed.Tumblr.com (Physics... The Speed of Light)

Visual Artist, Photographer, Physicist (Particle, Sub/Atomic Physics/Relativity)

I'm a friendly, but pretty blunt, kind of guy. No time for beating around the bush. I like to say what I mean and mean what I say. I'm 73 years old. Time is not on my side. You don't have to like me. I'm a social recluse, anyway. I share my life, in photos, to let you into my life and hope to inspire you to be a productive and useful human. I have old age issues but will continue to post, here, while I'm well and able. I talk a lot... I'm told it's part of my OCD and ADHD. Come direct at http://ButchNaked.com Sign in if you wish to see me naked.

....... The DAILY GRIND..... what's up today.

11 Million photo views, to date at ButchNaked.com. Thank you.

Now keep reading.

Friday, 17 November, 2017. Sunny and cool today... very nice day. The low pressure area has moved south over California giving us a day, or so, of sun before the rain returns. I wuz up about 9:30am... had stayed up late. I'm on day 8 of my hormone cycle which is peak time and I have more energy... thus stay up late.

Today the library closes at 6pm so I'll get downtown late in the afternoon to get online... I can't afford internet, just now. I live on a couple of very small pensions and a government rent supplement. Once I get out of debt, again, I'll get my own online connection. Meanwhile, I adjust my day around going downtown each day to get online, get out and about, and do grocery shopping, etc. I live about five miles south of downtown.

I'm 73... old skool, and grew up in an era of different sexual relationships among men and women. Being gay was illegal and could have you sent to jail. I find it interesting how events of public figures... being outed for poor sexual conduct, is happening so frequently this past few weeks. Something is going on in social relationships and I can't quite put my finger on what. The fact that young people can meet more easily, no matter what their sexual inclinations, by way of online web sites, and by Smart Phone applications has changed everything. People who are much older, lived in a different world of heavy sexual repression and a world where men had more social rights than women, and queer/gay people had no rights at all. I think this will take several more years to sort itself out... old ideas to die off, and new moral standards applied to society... what is acceptable behaviour.

100 years ago it would not be weird for teenagers to go off to war, or get married, and for much older men to wed much younger women. That has changed, dramatically, in the past 20 years. Women want and demand all the same rights as men and it's hard to say how that will play out over the long term. It totally ignores physical and emotional differences between men and women while not seeking ways to take advantage of those differences. It poses all kinds of new situations which will change the future... large numbers of children growing up in daycare, with working mothers and fathers while, at the same time, the number of children in families will be very low... 1-2 children.

The social changes will not be apparent for a generation, or two, but it seems we are entering an era of very conservative social thought. Conservatives are a danger to themselves and everyone around them. I expect those who don't conform to the new social order will be severely outcast. Kindness and conservatism do not go together... the very idea of Connservatism is 'every person for themselves and f**k anyone who isn't part of the group".

THIS IS THE END OF THE DAILY GRIND.

"I've been USED!!! Just like that condomn on the ground over there" Cleveland Brown, The Cleveland Show. .............................

If you don't know me, the following might help you get to know what kind of person I am. I don't expect you to understand me. I can be a bit OCD and ADHD.

"They've already got more blow jobs than we'll ever get" Steve Smith (American Dad), talking about college freshmen.

"Now let us touch testicles and mate for life" Alien on The Simpsons

l'm here to teach you things. While I appreciate other people's opinions, I really don't give a crap what anyone thinks. Until you prove your worth, I will be nice but you have to earn my respect. You should assume that I don't trust anyone. I've not met a single trustworthy person in my entire life. I've met nice people who aren't too bright... well intentioned folk who know little about anything, people who are nice, most of the time, until you say something that offends them. Honourable people agree to disagree.

#Artist #Photographer #Physicist #David Silvercloud

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mrtuckerlane · 7 years

Text

A Glass of Scotch

Moving to Charleston was a little bit of a leap of faith on my part. It was 1,600 miles from home, I had never been to the South, and I had literally no connections to anybody my age.

To add to the story, I took the job as graduate assistant wrestling coach at the 11th hour, so it was not like I had much time to plan out my big move. I just knew that I was going to Charleston to coach wrestling and further my education; the details would sort themselves out when I got down there. If you know me, you know that is not the way I live a life, but I was determined to make it work. Juggling MapQuest, Google, and Craigslist, I was able to find a bedroom for let in a location close to campus. After one call with the landlord, I agreed to sign a short-term lease, sight unseen. It was one of the only places I could afford on my paltry budget and I figured that if I got there and hated it, I could always find a new apartment after I’d had a chance to check out the city. Despite having my car robbed and being constantly harassed by panhandlers, I loved the place and ended up staying for three years. I’m just like my dad--a creature of habit.

Even though I liked my room, I’ve got to admit: Those first couple of weeks were pretty spartan. A naturally reclusive being, I rarely went out exploring the beautiful sights of Charleston, and I had nothing to keep myself busy with the wrestling team still on summer break and my graduate classes yet to commence. I had no Internet, no smartphone, no television. I was sleeping on an air mattress we had found abandoned at the Telluride Bluegrass Festival several years earlier. There was a hole in it and despite my best efforts to patch it up, I constantly had to get up in the middle of the night for re-inflation purposes. My only other furniture was a fold-able lawn chair, and I ate my meals off one of the three moving boxes I brought with me. I remember spending entire days confined to that room, stifled by July’s unyielding southern heat, reading and re-reading every book in my collection, sweating through every pair of underwear I owned.

After school started, I had less free time on my hands, as wrestling practice and graduate school kept me occupied. Still, a young man, no matter how self-restrained, can get restless from time-to-time. I wanted to find something fun to do.

Throughout my coaching career, it has always been my philosophy not to fraternize with athletes. I feel like it is unprofessional and can put the program in a bad position in the event that trouble were to arise. It was tough for me to adhere to my self-imposed rule during my years in Charleston because there was not much of an age difference between the athletes and me.

But I made some exceptions for Odie Delaney.

Odie was one of the best wrestlers in Southern Conference history, and I was brought to Charleston, more or less, with the understanding that I had one job: To help Odie reach the All-American podium. The head coach made it known that Odie was likely to jump off of something of a not-insignificant height or, perhaps, bash his head against something not-so-soft if he did not reach his goal, so it was an objective I did not take lightly.

Still, even though the pressure of my task weighed on me heavily, I never really considered myself Odie’s coach. We were so close in age and ability level that I looked at myself more as Odie’s mentor and confidante, his sounding board when he was feeling moments of doubt. I was his training partner and conscience, the person willing to push him into a dark corner and make him fight to escape. Above all, I was that guy who could walk side-by-side with him into battle, someone with whom he could empathize when the going got tough. It was something he had been lacking, and I was the guy to fill the role.

The other reason that I made some exceptions for Odie was that given our social settings at the time, we did not exactly fit the norm. I was the new guy coaching a fringe sport at a military school, and he was a 5th-year student who no longer had to conform to the cadet lifestyle he had known for the past four years. We were two civilians trying to get by in a culture of uniformed rigidity, and while everyone else was going on their parade marches and getting yelled at by the commandant, we passed the time wrestling and studying. Wrestling and studying. Wrestling and studying.

But a person can only read and wrestle so many hours in a day.

The windows in the wrestling room were steamed over, the mats glistening with perspiration after Odie and I had finished another one of our epic grind matches for the evening. We sat at the edge of the room, our knees pulled to our chests, our heads leaning back against the wall in utter exhaustion.

“You know, Tucker,” blurted Odie, breaking the calming rhythm of our heavy breathing, “I’ve gained a lot of respect for you since we started wrestling and if you know me, that’s not something I say lightly.

Wrestling you is really freaking frustrating. It actually kind of sucks. It’s like trying to wrestle a damn wood-chipper. You’re really strong and you never stop moving, just like a wood-chipper. That’s what I’m going to call you from now on: The Wood-Chipper.”

“Thanks,” I chuckled. I wasn’t sure what to make of my new nickname, but I gave Odie credit for the creativity.

“No, I’m serious, man,” Odie rejoined. “After training with as many pussies as I have over the years, I have nothing but respect for a man who refuses to give up. It’s beautiful, man. Frustrating, but beautiful. We’re going to do some big things this year.” He rose from his crouch, gave me a fist bump, and threw his shirt into the corner of the room. There was a resounding splat as it hit the mat, sweat spraying in all directions. “So what are you doing this weekend?”

I thought for several seconds, even though there wasn’t much to think about. “I’m not really sure. I’ll probably just read and do some homework.”

Odie pursed his lips, making that face where he tried to look like he was thinking about offering a suggestion, but had really already made up his mind what he was going to do. “What do you think about you and me hanging out tomorrow? You’re a wood-chipper on the mat, but I think you’re a really interesting guy, and I want to get to know you better.”

Even though I had my qualms about hanging out with an athlete outside of the wrestling room, I felt comfortable with his overture, given the situation and our relationship. “Sure,” I replied. “What do you want to do?”

His response was immediate. “I’m going to come over to your house, and we’re going to have a philosophical conversation about The Bible. Just me and you, two men building our understanding of important matters of the universe.”

I smiled at the fervor with which he offered his proposal. It was definitely not what I had envisioned for hanging out on the weekend. “I don’t know,” I responded equivocally, “I probably don’t know as much about The Bible as you.”

“Tucker, that does not matter one bit,” Odie responded vehemently. “I spent YEARS of my life consciously avoiding The Bible, purposely refuting anything I heard, but, somehow, I always find myself coming back to it because it’s such an amazing book. I’m going to share with you everything I’ve discovered, and I look forward to any questions you might have.

I’ll be at your place at 2:00 tomorrow afternoon. What’s your address?”

Odie showed up at exactly 2:00, The Bible in one hand and a stack of commentary in the other. He had obviously come prepared, and I was not sure I was ready for whatever he had planned. I invited him in, grabbed him a glass of water, and joined him on the futon in the living room to commence our philosophical discourse.

Odie lit up when he talked, passionately trying to convince me of the Truth he had discovered within The Bible’s hallowed pages. I listened along quietly, making mental notes on several different points. Whether I agreed or disagreed with what he was saying is irrelevant--it was in my nature to be contrary, and I wanted to put his theories to test. Whenever Odie would take a breath from his harangue, I would sneak in a question to keep him on his toes.

In general, he did a great job of squelching my queries with thoughtful, well-researched rebuttals. After several hours of heated discussion, however, my annoying, fiendish little questions started to take their toll on his patience.

“Odie,” I pondered, diabolically, “One thing I’ve been wondering: If Jesus is love, and the Holy Trinity does, in fact, exist, then why do the early prophets allude to the fact that God hates midgets?”

Odie was nonplussed. “Tucker, what in the HELL are you talking about?”

“I’m just saying,” I continued, “I read a chapter from The Bible one time, and the only thing I really gathered was that God felt like midgets had no right to live.”

“OMG, Tucker, I’ve read The Bible so many times, and I’m almost 100 percent sure that nowhere does it say that God hates midgets,” he answered, glowering at me in frustration. “And even if it did, then it’s not meant to be taken literally as ‘God hates midgets.’ A lot of times, God uses stories, which are called parables in biblical terms, to make a point on morality or other spiritual constructs.”

I was cracking myself up as I continued my argument. “I don’t know: You’re just sounding like another one of those street-corner ministers. When something in The Good Book conveniently fits with the point you’re trying to make, it’s an undeniable Truth; however, when you encounter something you don’t like, it’s ‘not meant to be taken literally.’ You’re not going to convince me with that old chestnut. I think that God hates midgets.”

Odie stood up, no longer able to conceal his frustrations. “Tucker, you know what you are? You are a sophist. I remember talking about them in one of my classes, and that’s what you are--a damned sophist! You make all of these arguments that sound good to the average person because you are a clever guy and have a big vocabulary, but there is really nothing of substance behind anything you say.”

Loving every minute of what was transpiring, I responded, “Yeah, well, you’re a sophist just for accusing me of being a sophist!”

“Touché, my friend,” Odie answered, “but I’m tired of this talk for the night. We shall continue at a later date. None of your questions can dissuade me from what I know is true, and I will come back more prepared next time. But what do you say: How about we go get something to eat? I’m starving.”

“Sounds good,” I said, “what do you have in mind?”

“OMG, brother, there is this place downtown called Mama Kim’s. I promise you: The best Asian food you’ll ever have in your life.”

“Let’s do it!” I replied enthusiastically. “I’m always down for some Asian.” As we drove down to Mama Kim’s, Odie let me know how nice it was having me around, someone who was on the same page as him, someone to understand him. He told me how he was going to introduce me to all of Charleston’s quaint little charms. He had lived there four years. It was his city.

We finished the meal and stepped outside, a refreshing evening breeze tickling our faces. Charleston was always so much nicer the closer the sun got to the horizon, almost perfect.

“Oh, man!” Odie exclaimed, stretching his arms above his head in satisfaction. “Mama Kim knows how to do it right. That’s my spot--I could eat there every night. Mama Kim’s sure going to miss me when I’m gone.”

“Yeah, it was good,”I agreed. “Thanks for bringing me.”

“So what’s next?” Odie asked inquisitively.

“You tell me,” I answered. “I thought Charleston was your city.”

Odie scratched his face in thought. “Hmmmm.....well, I’ve already taken you to Mama Kim’s, so we can’t do that.....I’m just trying to think. It’s kind of hard when they keep you locked up on campus all of the time. There’s not much chance to get out and explore. I don’t know. I guess we can walk down to The Battery. A lot of people like to do that.”

We made the walk down to water’s edge and considered the cresting waves and the ported ships across the harbor. “Yes,” Odie muttered sarcastically, “the mighty Atlantic. Hmmmm.....just a couple of guys watching the water together.” He notoriously had the attention span of a hummingbird toward things that did not impress him. After a couple more minutes, he was ready to leave.

“Well, not much more to see here. Let’s find something else to do.” We took off walking, it obvious that despite his longer tenure in the city, Odie had no more idea where we were heading than me.

As we passed Halls Chophouse, one of the more elegant establishments on King Street, Odie and I stopped briefly and shot a knowing glance at one another, intrigued by the mystery of what lay within. He was the first to ask what the other was thinking.

“What do you say, sir: A glass of Scotch to quench the thirst of a couple weary gentlemen?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” I replied, and I followed him inside.

The host told us that it would be about a 45-minute wait for a table, but we were undeterred--we only wanted to drink. We spied a couple of open seats at the bar in the very back of the building and made our way in that direction.

We passed a sea of Charlestonians in their salmon-colored button-downs, bow ties, and fancy dinner jackets as a jazz saxophonist played chic numbers on the side. I do not think we could have possibly stood out anymore in our Bulldog Wrestling Camp t-shirts and buzzed heads.

We mounted up at the bar and asked the bartender, dressed in black shirt, black vest, and black tie, what he had in the way of Scotch. He ran his hand through his perfectly-coiffed hair and rattled off a bunch of esoteric jargon about vintages, labels, and finishes, but the only thing I kept hearing was the $25, $27, $30 per drink that was included at the end.

When he finished explaining his Scotch menu, he asked us our preference. Odie and I looked at each other, both thinking the exact same thing: Was our whimsical little foray into the world of Scotch going to cost us most of our month’s stipend? Did we have the balls to walk out without actually getting anything? We turned to the bartender and told him we needed a few minutes to decide.

After what seemed like no time at all, the bartender returned and asked if we had made a decision. We fidgeted in our chairs and stuttered something about so many great options making it hard for us to choose. Luckily for us, the bartender was an astute individual and figured out the cause of our delay.

“Listen,” he said emphatically. “I have a bottle of Glenlivet 12. It is the absolute lowest-shelf Scotch we have in-house. It’s $9. Do you guys want it or not?” We looked at each other and tried to pretend we were still contemplating our options. We muttered that we were really looking for a quality Scotch to numb the palate, but maybe we would start off with the Glenlivet and go from there.

“Neat?” he asked, as he pulled out a couple of tumblers and placed them before us. I don’t think either one of us understood the question, but apparently we said something that signaled our assent, and he poured us each a glass of the worst Scotch his restaurant had to offer.

“I’m assuming you guys won’t be starting a tab,” he sagely inferred as he handed us our ticket and turned to attend to his more promising tip candidates.

When the bartender got out of earshot, Odie and I exchanged a knowing smile, twirled our drinks in the palm of our hands, and toasted each other to sipping Scotch with the finest Charleston gentlemen. Despite our fantasies of being refined and sophisticated, that first sip was more than we were ready for. Neither one of us could keep a straight face, and we started coughing to extinguish the burning in our chests.

“Mmmm, that’s some good Scotch,” Odie said, his voice still raspy from his first drink. “This is living, let me tell you what.” He flicked at his glass for a little while longer before saying, “Who am I kidding? This is like drinking straight fire. I say we just slam the rest and call it a night.”

I agreed and after a count of three, we summoned our courage and finished our expensive little mistake. Retching, we slammed our glasses and threw down a dollar for the bartender and stumbled toward the front door, the judgmental eyes of the Charleston aristocracy following our unceremonious exit.

When the friendly embrace of the nighttime air welcomed us once again, Odie and I were in much better spirits. The cheap Scotch had just enough effect to kill any awkward feelings that lingered on our way out. We started laughing uncontrollably.

“OMG.....talk about two people who did not belong anywhere near that place!” Odie exclaimed.

“I know,” I answered, “it’s like the whole restaurant was smelling the most disgusting fart the entire time we were in there.”

“Oh, man, that is going to make for a great story one day.”

We skipped along the Charleston sidewalks, our warm guts lifting us as we made our way home.

#memories #scotch #wrestling

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