#and am far too lazy to re-save it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dastardlydandelion · 1 year

Note

i’ve honestly always wholeheartedly adored kirby tbh. i’ll never forget seeing scream 4 at a formative age and wanting to be just half as cool as her so bad lmaoo. i don’t know if this is really related at all but i think at least in 4, she was a little more flawed as a person than some people really pick up on. and i think those flaws genuinely make her a more interesting character. she’s a little rude, blunt, callous, whatever. doesn’t outwardly care too much about her friend getting brutally murdered right in front of her. still goes to stab-a-thon, has a good time, flirts with charlie, hosts an after party, brags about her movie knowledge. which good for her with the last one ❤️ but she does come off a little self involved. she’s also a teenager so. fair enough. but she obviously has a lot of good moments as well. she seems to care deeply for jill and shows a lot of courage, heart, and vulnerability in that final scene trying to save charlie’s life. she wasn’t perfect and that’s what makes her pretty compelling to me. i think mindy shares a lot of these qualities as well but she didn’t really get a heart and vulnerability moment like kirby did with the trying to save charlie debacle. i feel like she’ll be getting one in 6 though, not gonna lie. idk but i do love them both and i’m excited to see them again <3

agreed in full, buddy, agreed in full!!

and to be fair, as self-involved and blunt as she comes across, uh, even kirby's more callous lines don't compare to robbie tbh. iirc like, olivia's body is barely cold and he refers to her as "the girl who'll now never date me," or if not that exactly, something to the effect of it (now i have to re-watch scre4m yet again). like. fuck man.

also when kirby tried to save charlie (as far as she knew) and started shakily rattling off whatever remake come to mind, hayden panettiere's performance was so raw and compelling that on the first watch i didn't even realize it's supposed to be the film taking a crack at how derivative and lazy so many remakes are!! the commentary totally flew over my head bc i was so wrapped up in her urgency and desperation.

although my favorite kirby moment will always be when she yells at trevor after her interrupts her and charlie. her face is a whole mood, i swear if this movie had come out a handful of years later than it did kirby prolly would've become a reaction gif. 😂

and mindy! yes, ofc i adore mindy. and she is similarly kind of harsh. like when she refuses to go with richie to the basement and he goes alone and like, as soon as the door shuts behind him she's all, "well he's dead," and shoves her hand in a bag of chips. LMAO. to be fair tho, to be fair richie is irritating af and that prolly would've been my reaction too. anonymoose friend, i am sorry if u like richie but he just aggravates me, personally, he was getting on my nerves the whole movie.

i do feel we'll be getting more vulnerability from mindy come scream vi tho, more development for her character in general. jasmin savoy brown has the range!!! and already the super bowl ad heavily suggests her girlfriend is going to get killed.

i keep re-watching it (and all the other ads, ngl) trying to work out the mechanics of that scene.

it looks like anika is already wounded? she's covered in blood. yes, it could be someone else's blood but i'm thinking it's hers bc in the one shot it looks like mindy is helping her on the floor? it's blink-and-miss-it, but it's there, for the life of me tho, which trailer or tv spot was it in?? i don't remember, they're all blurring together. but also it seems that mindy gets on the ladder before anika does, that she's left her in the bloody bedroom (quinn's bedroom?) and that makes me wonder if the plan is for mindy to go first bc anika could potentially successfully play dead if ghostface enters the room, given that she's already injured. if that is the plan it clearly doesn't work, but. still.

anyway, yes, i love kirby and mindy and i'm very excited to see them both again and hopefully we'll get some good interactions between them too!!

#scream #scream 4 #scre4m #scream 6 #scream vi #kirby reed #mindy meeks martin

4 notes · View notes

alsjeblieft-zeg · 1 year

Text

154 of 2023

Random Secrets from Others 2! [True or False]

Created by joybucket

I have a lot of fun making these. These are random people's secrets that I have found online. Put an X next to the secrets that you share, and elaborate if you wish. Have fun! :)

Everyone around me is religious, but I'm an atheist, and no one knows. My friend told me he has cancer and will likely die within a year. ....and he told me not to tell anyone about it. I absolutely loved being pregnant and would gladly carry someone else's child. 🤰 I'm jealous of women who have a happy experience while pregnant. 🤰 I feel like I'm so far behind when it comes to dating that I never really had the courage to ask anyone out. I was raised super religious, and I started losing my faith when I was 23. (earlier) My first two years of college were the best two years of my life so far, and I wish I could go back and re-live them again. I've relapsed with my anorexia. ...I know I've relapsed. I know this could kill me. But it's not enough for me to overcome the messed up part of my brain that says "at least you'll die thinner." I've been dealing with an eating disorder for over a decade now, and it's not an easy battle. My parents don't know I'm gay. If they found out I'd end up homeless. My family doesn't know I walked out on my job nearly four weeks ago, and I'm too embarrassed to tell them, because I don't want any more financial help from them. My depression hasn't actually gotten any better and if anything, it has gotten worse. But I feel so guilty every time I talk to my friends about it, so I stopped talking about it, and now everyone thinks I'm doing better. I don't know what to do. My life isn't perfect. In fact, it's far from it. I just found out I'm pregnant. I haven't let anyone take a photo of me in years, because I gained weight. I haven't been able to feel genuine happiness for a long time now; I've only been able to feel stress, sadness, and anger. It's driving me crazy. I'm soon to be homeless. My high school best friend was gay. ....and he was in a leadership position in the local church. ....even when he was married to a woman, while at the same time sleeping with a man. I just graduated from college, and now I'm really depressed. I don't feel an emotional connection to any of my friends or family. Despite being really happy and satisfied in my current relationship, I still have feelings for my ex. I'm in love with my best friend. One of my biggest fears is losing touch with reality. I've been hallucinating, and I'm scared to tell anyone. I have a chronic illness and I'm making it worse by staying in the workforce, but I get so much of my identity from my career that I just can't leave it yet. I was sexually assaulted as a high schooler, and I still blame myself. I like drinking more than I have a desire to stop, and I'm not sure where that's going to lead me. I've had people wonder dumbfounded at how I'm still single. I'm bulimic. Only my wife knows, and not to the fullest extent. My grades have dropped dramatically since I went to college, and I'm too ashamed to tell my parents. I had feelings for a man that was older than my dad. I don't feel motivated enough to go back to college, but I'm afraid to tell anyone that, because they'll probably just brush it off by saying I'm lazy. I'm sleeping with my coworker. (he’s my husband lol) I have a boyfriend in another city. I weigh more than I care to admit. I don't love him. I just lust after him. I am sleeping with him for his money. I hate his new girlfriend, but I smile when she is around. I'm terrified of having children. I was raped. My best friend saved my life. I'm bisexual. ....and I feel alone at church because of it. I've stuffed my bra. I used to be a Christian, but I'm not sure I would call myself one anymore. I joined a sports team so I could see everyone naked. COVID taught me who my real friends are. George Floyd's death taught me who the true racists are. Technology today makes me feel like an alien. 💻👽 Gambling destroyed my last marriage. The problem with getting to know people is that once you know them, you might not want to know them anymore. I plan to end it all soon. Finally. I am asexual. ....and I don't know where I fit in! Most of the time I feel like a complete loser and failure. I'll never give up. I smoke pot, and I'm afraid I'm smoking away my future. My local public library played a crucial role in my recovery from severe depression. 📚 I am proving to my childhood self that I'm exactly who I promised who I would be. I'm really proud of that. I wish I had spent more time just being a kid. I think most adults are kind of boring...but they don't have to be. Honestly, I'm glad the weddings I had for 2020 were canceled. My friends' weddings were getting EXPENSIVE! 💒 Now that we are forced to be distant, I finally realized I am ready to be close to someone again. My ring is fake. I'm THAT lonely and THAT pathetic. 💍 I want to have ceiling stars in my bedroom even when I'm married with kids of my own. ✨ I feel helpless watching your mental illness destroy you. I'm cheating in my college classes. I'm trying real hard not to panic. Just for once, I'd like to be the pretty girl. It is so hard to make friends in college. College was easy for making friends, even for an introvert like me. It's the "real" adult world that shrinks your friend base. My dad used to spank my mom in front of us. I'm terrified that this might end with you killing me. Never once did I imagine that love might be so hard to find. Maybe it only happens to others. Some people plan vacations; I plan my divorce. I wasted so many years. I really want to be famous, but only so I can meet other famous people. My porn addiction made me unable to feel real love. I am starting to like myself fully for the first time. I've stalked my crushes on social media. My work friends are my only friends. I'm thinking of getting back together with my ex, so I won't have to spend the festive season alone. 🎄 I married a man I didn't love to wound the one who meant the world to me. I'd never known joy until I started traveling alone. Everyone envies that I'm traveling the world, when what I want most is for you to ask me to stay. My personality is dependent on coffee. ☕️ All signs point to God. But I don't WANT them to! I have a chronic disease that is slowly killing me. I'm mad at myself for taking so long to figure out it was rape. I've finally stopped trying to be perfect. I've never been happier. Now that I look the way I always wanted to look, I'm less happy than before. Words cannot describe how thankful I am that your suicide attempt failed. Being gay is much less fun now that we've forced them to accept us. 🏳️‍🌈 My life looks much better on social media. Truth is, I'm miserable. I want another child so badly.

#survey #bolding survey #themed survey

0 notes

cataegisira · 2 years

Text

Lady Faelyn, Deathlord of Zhur

I don't have a sketch for this one I can slap up right now, largely because I am entirely too lazy to open the file up, hide all the layers, and then save just the sketch, and I probably won't finish this particular portrait, but anyway...

This is Lady Faelyn, a character, an 'Immortal', I made for Well of Souls. Her title and the name of her city is a reference to an ancient game series I really like, but otherwise, the place has very little in common with the referenced location.

She is some six thousand years old, and became a revenant when the Lichlord Tsor'an(another 'Immortal', this one a 'Dark Lord') unleashed his necromantic blight in a semi-successful attempt to become a lich in the first place. While he did not intend to murder the inhabitants of his fair home city-state, the spell went out of his control and snuffed the entire population like a hand closing overtop a candleflame.

Afterwards, the vast majority of the populace rose as undead, though not under his control. Among the few exceptions is Lady Faelyn, whose rage at Tsor'an for inflicting such a tragedy upon their people burned so bright her soul tore itself free from the grip of the gods, and re-inhabited her body.

The act transformed Tsor'an not just into a lich, but into a Dark Lord, a being of admittedly immense might, but the title is more than a title; such things as Heroes and Dark Lords are entities with such 'weight' in the world that they wear a groove into the fabric of the world itself, forever marking Tsor'an as the perpetrator of a heinous crime alone.

So he fled. He ran far, to the other side of the continent, away from his guilt, away from his hunter, where, for the last few centuries, he has made his home in the frozen wastes to the north of Greater Breman, setting the mortal races of man there on edge with his presence alone.

The Zhurans, however, do not have such freedom, not even the Lady Faelyn. After some time, the second Deathlord of Zhur wrenched control of the undead citizens from the living spell, co-opting it for her own use.

(Everything past this point is what is known in world.)

Today, she sits quietly in the Dead City, watching, waiting. Seemingly at random, the undead of Zhur will rise en masse, crawling from the earth to march on a neighboring nation, Lady Faelyn at the head of her host. No one can discern her reasons for doing so, as she never takes and holds territory, just hurls her soldiers against the keeps and castles of her neighbors. Even in the event that a city or fortified position falls, she and her army sits in it for a few days, perhaps a week, and then simply... turns around, and marches back to Zhur, where the tide of dead disappears.

Silver Age records indicate that Zhur is even older than the Silver Empire itself. Whether Deathlord Faelyn has been in control of it the entire time or not is also unknown.

The Silver Empire attempted to purge the Dead City multiple times, using multiple methods, and never succeeded, for all their vaunted magical and martial might.

Each time an invading force sets foot into the area that Zhur claimed as its own, the land itself attempts to crush and swallow them, with thousands of skeleton hands thrusting up from below the surface to grasp at the legs of horses, men, the wheels of supply carriages, anything foreign to the region.

Even the Dark Lord Kai, responsible for the near-complete massacre of every Silver Elf alive during the Empires reign, steered clear of the place.

Curiously, small bands, such as mercenary companies, adventuring parties, and merchants' caravans, are allowed to move through the place unmolested, though the gates of Zhur never open for them, no matter how much or what they shout to the lifeless guards atop the walls.

Similarly, attempts to invade by sea meet with nighmarish undead sea-beasts, leviathans and not, surfacing from below the waves to wreak havoc, spread disease, and drown entire fleets.

Again, small groups are allowed to pass through Zhurs seas without ill effect.

Again, attempts to dock at Zhur are rebuffed. Ships may sail into harbor, but will find the gates sealed with impassive, skeletal faces blankly staring into the distance, ignoring any calls.

Still, despite this, few try to travel though Zhur, for fear that has changed, or they were exaggerated rumors to begin with.

#original art #oc artist #undead #fantasy art #tabletop rpg #ttrpg #female character #brown hair #white eyes #undead blight #well of souls #Lady Faelyn is one of my favorite creations for Well of Souls probably literally ever she's amazing I love her

0 notes

ground-zero-idiocies · 2 years

Note

So how would Fallout 4 companions and faction leaders (nuka world included) react to nearly getting trapped in a fire fight, then suddenly a British man comes in and shoots all the enemies down effortlessly.

He pulls them up to their feet saying, “On your feet, we are leaving!” https://youtu.be/o77LwJEVxcg

When they ask who then man is, they simply state that they’re well acquainted with SS.

(I intended for this to be a normal react, yet here we are. I'll re-do this if you want lol)

Here's the deal:

It's tuesday. No one really wants to do anything, but saving the Commonwealth isn't a job you can just put off until the weekend. A massive joint force, Talon Company + Gunners, is teaming up to hit Diamond City. Without DC, the Institute would have no one to broadcast their propaganda, the Brotherhood would have nowhere to resupply, the Railroad would have no one to recruit, and the Minutemen...well they just like helping. And the Nuka World raiders wouldn't have anyone to enslave/exploit, so they begrudgingly decide to help aid the city.

The moment comes. It's 7 AM, and everyone is barely awake. A line is formed to direct the bad guys into an abandoned hotel, where the main fighting force is sitting on the second floor.

The Gunners and Talons arrive. They're steered into the collapsing hotel, plasma bolts melting the brave freedom fighters on the way in. They pour into the hotel, uncontrollably firing off into the crowd in the grand lobby. They storm in, but are taken down by the Nuka World raiders...until the gatling units show up.

All of a sudden, three, no, five, no, a dozen power-armored soldiers storm through the double doors, miniguns and RCW's in hand. They quickly plow through the raiders, taking down wave after wave of expendable bodies.

As if to rub salt in DC's proverbial wound, one more power-armored soldier bursts in, holding the most destructive weapon one man could wield: a pipe pistol MERV launcher. Tiny nukes crash down upon the second floor, collapsing the ceiling on those who weren't murdered in the explosions.

Huddled in the corner, the companions try to catch their collective breath, Stimpaks and Nuka Quantum flying into bodies and caved-in walls offering the illusion of protection from the remaining fighters.

The doors of the hotel swing open once more. In steps a sharply-dressed man, black tie quickly gathering dust from the nuclear explosion. The gunners and talons turn to face him, but they're already dead. With a slight grunt and a single bead of sweat, the man throws aside a large chunk of concrete under which the companions are stuck, blood from the dead talons beginning to run down his face. He helps the companions all up, and dusts off their outfits.

It's Cait who first turns to the man, then back at Nora, then back at the man. "Who the fock is that? Why didn't you tell me you had some insanely sexy man who can just take on ten thousand raiders like that??"

The man laughs, a bit taken aback by the compliment. It had been a while since anyone had called his shaggy-haired self 'sexy'.

"I assure you, I don't just pop out of nowhere. I was just a little late to this defense party, is all. Nora, good to see you, as always. How's young Shaun doing these days? The robot, I mean. Not the God cosplayer."

Nora shoots up from the ground, a smile quickly overtaking her face. "James! It's been far, far too long. I swear, you really do need to come from England more often. I know you say it's too far a trip for a lazy Sunday but I really think you should visit more often. Did you know that we actually just built a settlement on an island just for Feral Ghouls?"

Curie walks over and touches the man's face and torso, studying his physique and form.

"A rHeal British person. How fascinating."

James chuckles once again, his accent now giving away his place of origin. He bends down to help up Danse, crushed under a large bar of steel.

"On your feet, soldier. I believe there is still an invasion to repel. We are leaving."

...James will return

#ignore the fact that this makes no fucking sense #fallout #fallout 4 #companions #companion #companion react #fallout 4 companion #video games #fallout 4 companions #fallout new vegas #gunner #talon #talon company

27 notes · View notes

tea-and-spoons · 3 years

Text

Today’s Tips: Crutches

Hello hello! I have been a part-time crutches user for the past… three years? So today I’m going to share some little tips I’ve learned along the way. I have never used a cane, but I think a lot of this might apply to canes too.

-If you’re trying to decide if you need a mobility aid or not, the answer is yes. You don’t have to be unable to walk without it to use a mobility aid! If you think it would help, go for it! Using my crutches lets me walk farther, with less pain, and less falling, and the freedom is wonderful. I’m pretty sure that if you’re debating, it’s definitely worth a try. And if you’re here because crutches are already required for you, that’s good too and I hope you still find what makes them work best for you.

-Decorate! Personalize! Bedazzle! I am a huge advocate for changing the look of your mobility aid to whatever makes you happy. I scraped all the logos off my crutches, spray painted them blue, and added flower stickers on the cuffs, and it always makes me smile. Just because they only sell what you need in boring medical colors doesn’t mean you have to keep it that way. My theory is, I’m going to get stared at either way, I might as well have crutches I like:)

-If you leave it standing up, it WILL fall over. Seriously, it seems like every time I try to leave my crutches propped up against something, they fall down and make a ton of noise at a very inconvenient time. If you have to leave them standing up so you can reach them, I wish you luck, and suggest putting them somewhere that minimizes getting bumped into. Sometimes I lean mine on my legs under the table and that works pretty well. But most of the time, I lie my crutches down alongside a table or wall, or underneath my chair. Bonus, this also keeps people from stepping on them so much.

-Forearm crutches vs underarm crutches. I generally see your regular underarm crutches used for more short term things, like a sprained ankle, but they might also be a better choice if you have limited arm strength. They also feel more stable if you can’t put any weight on one leg. I was told that forearm crutches take way more strength, but in my experience, it’s not as bad as I was told, even though I have floppy, spaghetti-noodle Ehlers-Danlos arms (although I do also have the special forearm crutches for people with EDS) It’s really nice that the forearm crutches are shorter, so they’re easier to store and don’t stab you in the armpit if you’re walking on uneven ground. In my opinion, they’re just overall easier to maneuver and better for when both legs need support. Plus, I can let them hang from the cuffs and have my hands free for a moment. The other thing I noticed with underarm crutches vs forearm crutches is how people treat me. With regular underarm crutches, I got a lot of “Oh no what happened?!” and “Get well soon!”, none of which apply to me. With forearm crutches, people seem to get that it’s more of a lifelong disability deal. I was trying to write an unbiased paragraph here, but I guess it’s pretty clear I have a strong preference! But really, the best option is whatever meets your needs.

-Proper fitting. If you have access to a physical therapist or other professional who can help you fit your crutches, I would highly recommend taking advantage of that. Crutches that aren’t adjusted right can wreak havoc on your posture and alignment, and even cause secondary injuries (which is the last thing you need!) If you don’t have access to a PT, I think these links have some good information:

https://www.physicaltherapy101.net/forearm-lofstrand-crutches/

https://www.physicaltherapy101.net/walking-assistance/crutches/

-Pace yourself. If your situation allows you to gradually work up to how much time you spend with crutches, you’ll be much less sore! If not, try to take breaks before you really need them, to prevent the worst of the ouch.

-Carrying things. This is going to be frustrating, but it also gets easier as you adjust and learn what works for you. First things first, it’s totally okay to ask for help! You are not a burden, you are not lazy, no matter what anyone else tells you. It’s okay to need help. And for when you are carrying things by yourself, here are some tips: Pockets! Very very good. Backpack or fanny pack or purse is also good. I’ve seen some people attach a bag to the crutch itself, but in my experience, that makes it hard to control the crutch and you lose your balance a lot. I’ve also perfected the art of holding something with my pinky and ring finger, while still holding the crutch handgrip with the other side of my hand. Sliding things along a table instead of carrying is a great one for cooking. Getting everything you need within reach and then just sitting is also a good strategy to save spoons.

-Actually getting around! I think the best thing might be to practice with your crutches on a day you don’t actually need them so you can experiment. I know that’s not always possible though, and I promise you can also learn as you go too. For me, doors are the hardest part, so automatic openers are my friends. My best tricks for doors without automatic openers are: open door really far and speed through, or use crutch leg or tip to prop door open while you go through. Although I have gotten my crutch tip stuck under the door like that before so maybe that’s not the best advice… Again, it’s totally okay to ask for help! And you’ll get the hang of it with practice.

-Crutches in winter. Not fun. If you’re using regular long crutches, they’re going to get stuck in slush or snow on the sidewalk. I haven’t tried them, but I also know they sell special crutch tips for ice, because regular ones are slippy. I don’t really have any advice here, so this is more of a caution, and a suggestion to plan ahead!

-Especially if crutches are new for you, you’re going to be all kinds of tired. The way you walk is now totally different, and you have to re-adjust how you do just about everything, which takes a LOT of mental energy. It’s totally okay to be frustrated and tired and sad. It won’t always be this hard, you’ll find adjustments that work for you. And don’t be afraid to use the resources and accommodations available to you! They’re there to help you and you deserve support.

I hope you found this helpful, and I would love to see if you decide to decorate your mobility aid too!

Edit: I just learned a new trick for crutches and doors! When you’re trying to open the door, make sure you’re standing clear outside of the arc of where the door swings. Otherwise you’ll be trying to inch backwards and drag the door with you, and that’s a great way to fall down. So just move to the side and let the door swing open.

#chronic illness advice #teaandspoons #disability #ehlers danlos syndrome #crutches #forearm crutches #accessibility

176 notes · View notes

sourholland · 3 years

Note

Ooooh angst “what about us?” “there is no us, there never was.” with tom plssss! Really love ur work 🌸

Last Kiss || Tom Holland

Summary → After a fling you and Tom had started while filming a movie together, he tells you that you two can’t be together anymore. Once you get home, Tom let’s you know that he made a mistake.

AN → This was supposed to come out yesterday, I just got lazy and waited to edit it. I can’t tell if I like how this came out or hate it, either way, I hope you guys like this. Also in honor of the Fearless re-record!!

Pairing(s) → Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Warnings → Strong Language, Suggestive, Alcohol Use

Prompt(s) → 38

Word Count → 1.9k

The ringing of your phone sounded through your apartment loudly, the sound of the rain pattering loudly against the windows out-looking New York City. You set down the remote, feet padding against the cold hardwood while you looked for your buzzing cellphone.

You didn’t bother glancing at the caller ID, picking it up bringing it to your ear all in one quick motion.

“Hello?” You said, pulling a wine glass down from the cabinet.

“Y/N?” Tom’s voice came through the phone.

Your heart dropped, a breath catching in your throat while you stood in your kitchen. He was across the country, wanting nothing to do with you. He repeated your name through the phone, asking if you were there.

“Yeah, I’m here,” you answered, pouring more wine than you’d originally intended into the glass.

“Isn’t it like one in the morning in England?” You asked, listening to the muffles coming through the speaker.

“Yeah—yeah, it’s late here. I just couldn’t sleep, and I started to think of you. Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have called.”

You sat at one of the barstools, swirling the red contents of the glass around. You wanted to yell at him, or maybe you wanted to tell him how much you loved him. You sat silently for a few moments, bare legs cold from the draft.

“Tom,” you started. “I just don’t get why we have to rehash the past, you know? I came back to New York, just like you told me I should. You’re working on whatever new movie, I’m doing the same. I don’t know—I just think we should leave whatever happened between us alone. You made it very clear that it was me that you didn’t want,” you mumbled, pulling at the sleeves of your sweater.

He audibly sighed, the ruffling of sheets coming through the phone. He was probably in bed, if he wasn’t so far away you’d have asked him if this was a sad attempt at getting you to sleep with him.

“I was fucking stupid, and I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so fucking sorry, I’ve said that a million times,” his voice was hoarse and tired.

“I’ve already forgiven you, Tom. I just can’t keep doing this—this thing with you.”

You both went quiet for a minute, the only sound being the noise from outside in the bustling streets of the city and the rain. You knew you should hang up, block his number and forget about anything you two ever had. You’d tried a few times, unable to bring yourself to doing it.

“What about us?” He asked lowly, a twinge of hurt in his tired voice.

“There is no us, Tom,” you replied. “I’m not even sure there ever was.”

He didn’t say anything, you wanted to let out the repressed cry and tell him you didn’t mean it. That you were sorry and that you thought about him more than you’d like to admit. Something in you knew if you didn’t do your best to cut it off, you two would continue down the same everlasting cycle.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay.”

The line went silent for a moment, and then your home screen lit up. The call had been ended. You downed the remainder of your wine, ditching the cup and just going for the bottle. You thought about calling him back, about apologizing and booking a plane ticket like some lovesick teenager.

You opened Instagram and began scrolling through your feed of posts, liking and commenting occasionally. You weren’t anywhere near drunk, merely tipsy and heartbroken. Your finger lingered on the button to go live, wondering if you really wanted thousands of people to see you in this state.

You left the kitchen and instead propped your phone against the couch, taking a seat on the white rug of your living room. You wearily pressed the go live button, raising the bottle to your chapped lips once more. You are pathetic, you thought.

“Hey guys!” You smiled at the camera and outpouring of greetings in the comments. Within a few minutes you’d racked in a few thousand viewers. You grabbed the guitar sitting against your wall and strummed the cords lightly while it sat in your lap.

userone: you are so adorable

usertwo: can you please say hi?!!!??

userthree: it’s my birthday y/n!

“I’m sorry I haven’t been very active on social media, guys. It’s been super crazy traveling back and forth from London to New York and then having to leave again in a few weeks. And now I’m sitting on my living room floor with a bottle of wine,” you laughed. A few familiar people popped into the comments of the live, some you’ve worked with and some you’ve yet to meet in person.

florencepugh: y/n!!!

gracieabrams: might just bust out the wine just for u

“Florence, I can’t wait to see you soon!” You smiled, “Gracie, I swear it’s making everything like a hundred times better.”

userfour: i’m in love with her

userfive: y/n saving 2021???!!!

“I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to be singing,” you flushed. You did sing, before getting into acting you’d post a lot on Instagram and TikTok. It’d always been more of a hobby, something you loved to do, but weren’t good enough to pursue.

“I’ve had a little too much to drink,” you added. “So don’t get upset if I’m a little pitchy, guys.”

usersix: if she’s pitchy i’m not sure what i am

userseven: sing taylor swift!!!

“Okay, okay!” You chuckled, scrolling through the hundreds of comments saying to play Taylor Swift. You’d only just been crying to like three of her albums a few hours before.

“How about the chorus—and maybe the bridge too, yeah, that’ll work,” you mumbled to yourself, fiddling with the strings. “Alright, guys, Last Kiss it is. I won’t bore you all with the whole thing, though. I could never do Taylor justice.”

“And I’ll go sit on the floor, wearing your clothes”

Getting involved with him was singlehandedly the most stupid decision you’ve ever made, you thought. Late nights in his flat after long nights on set, ordering in and just talking, you two would talk as if you’d known each other your whole lives. It was something about the way he’d let you wear his clothes, or the way he’d tuck your hair behind your ear while you told him about whatever insignificant thing that had happened that day.

“All that I know,

I don’t know how to be something you miss”

The car ride to the airport was the worst, it was grey and cold outside. There was makeup running down your face, mascara covering your eyes generously. You’d wrapped filming a week earlier, unable to bring yourself to walk away from him.

You couldn’t tell the driver to turn you around, or could you? Tom had already made it clear that you were both in different places in your career. This wasn’t what he wanted. You weren’t what he wanted.

“I never thought we’d have our last kiss”

He had held you just a little tighter, you ran your fingers through his hair for just a second longer. The taste of each other lingering on the both of your lips. Like you knew it would be the last time he’d hold you without knowing.

His stupid smiled, the way he pulled away and ran his thumb over your swollen bottom lip. You were almost wrapped around his finger, absolutely sickened with desire and infatuation for him.

“I never imagined we’d end like this,

Your name, forever the name on my lips”

The day you’d left to come home to New York started with a huge argument between the two of you. He’d basically just told you that you’d both known from the beginning you wouldn’t last together. It wasn’t a matter of how much you cared for one another, but that it was impossible, as he put it.

His eyes glossed over and bloodshot, you a complete and utter mess. Slamming the door behind you as you left was one of the most painful things you’d ever endured. Even more painful, the fact that he never came after you.

“So I’ll watch your life in pictures like I used to watch you sleep”

“I can feel you staring at me, love,” he murmured against the pillow.

Your face heated, eyes averting to the stream of light through the sheerness of the curtains. He leaned into you a moment later, his lips soft on your own. He was warm, he was always so warm. You cupped the side of his face gently, pulling him in a bit harder.

“And I feel you forget me like I used to feel you breathe”

You dropped your bags, stepping into your apartment after months of being away. It felt quieter than usual, desolate and empty from your being away. It was dark out, the illumination of the bright city lights from your windows.

You glanced down at your phone for a moment, not a missed call, not a text, not even a fucking notification. He’d simply told you to go home, nothing more nothing less.

“I keep up with our old friends just to ask them how you are,

Hope it’s nice where you are”

You’d texted Harrison a few times, regretting it almost immediately after. He was sweet, telling you that Tom would come around eventually and to just be patient. You’d relied on those kind words for some time, eventually deleting them all together.

After Tom’s first text, you’d realized he wasn’t coming around or regretting what he’d said to you. He was lonely, maybe even a bit desperate. For months you had been there to listen to him and hold him, and now you were gone.

You’d fed into it the first few times, sitting on the phone with him for hours at a time. Then you started to feel worse hearing his voice, silent sobs escaping as you’d listen to him ramble. Then your finger would linger over the decline button a little longer than usual when he’d call, until eventually you started to use it.

“And I hope the sun shines and it’s a beautiful day,

And something reminds you,

You wish you had stayed”

Once you started to go out with other guys, Tom’s ‘I miss you’ texts became more infrequent. Paparazzi would snap pictures, and the next morning they’d be plastered all over the internet.

There was no doubt he was seeing you going out with other people, watching article after article about who you were dating surface. Would he be jealous? No, you thought. Tom was probably doing the same thing as you. Hopeless hookups, meaningless blind dates.

“You can plan for a change in the weather and time”

One early morning, you found yourself in a sweatshirt you’d stolen from one of his drawers and forgotten to return. Listening to the morning rush of traffic and hugging yourself, noticing the lingering smell of his cologne.

You wondered if he knew you’d taken it, if he would think you were pathetic wearing it months after you two had broken things off. This only made you clutch yourself a little tighter, closing your eyes and trying to remember.

“But I never planned on you changing your mind”

#tom holland imagines #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader

402 notes · View notes

krakenartificer · 3 years

Text

When I got my ADHD diagnosis, I looked at the questions on the screening form and thought, "If this result comes back positive, then I'm definitely not the only person in my family who has it." Questions like

"Have difficulty finishing one activity before starting another one" and

"I finish others' sentences before they can finish it themselves" and

"have trouble staying on one topic when talking"

...I thought were just weird quirks of my family, but no. When I got my results, I contacted my cousin, and she contacted her sisters and mother, and .. .. yeah. Basically everyone in my dad's side of the family is ADHD.

Now there are some problems with that, obviously, (getting family reunions to stick to a schedule is lol no) but there are some really fantastic perks. For one thing, no one in that family minds if I interrupt them while they're talking ... everyone's happy to keep 3 conversations going at the same time .... and no one minds if you fidget constantly.

But the best perk -- at least that I've found so far -- is that all of our parents have coping mechanisms, and passed them on to us. When I found myself unable to handle tasks with more than one step, my father didn't say "WTF are you talking about? It's easy! Just do the thing! Stop being lazy!" No, he could relate completely, and he sat down and taught me how to handle that.

So today, I'm going to pass on to you the coping mechanism my dad taught me for handling the "cannot put tasks in order / cannot get started / forget what I'm doing" problem. You'll need to adjust it for your own needs and your own struggles, but hopefully it'll be helpful in setting up your own process.

I'm going to walk through it with a big project I'm doing at work, just to have a concrete example. That will make some of the discussion specific to computer programming and technical writing, but I do the same thing for all my projects, so hopefully it'll be generalizable.

So to set the stage:

I was supposed to modify this piece of code -- we'll call it "Rosetta" -- to make it handle call data as well as what it was already doing. I did that.... but we now need the code to be able to handle calls (if that's wanted) but also to be able to handle NOT having calls (if THAT'S wanted).

Which is just .... ugh. So much. SOOOOOOOO much.

So. Break it down.

Step one is to get some recording mechanism - pen and paper, whiteboard, blank computer document, whatever

(Technically, this is a different coping strategy, so we'll just take a quick detour: WRITE THINGS DOWN. Your brain is shit at remembering things, and anyway you've already got limits on your working memory; why would you choose to tie up some of that limited resource in something that could be accomplished with literal stone-age technology? Don't even try to remember things. WRITE THEM DOWN.)

I like sticky notes: they're readily available in all offices, they're pretty cheap, and (most importantly) they can be rearranged if it turns out that I forgot a step or put the steps in the wrong order (which, like, let's be honest, I am definitely going to do). But they kill trees and create unnecessary methane emissions, so I've recently switched over to using virtual sticky notes. That's the format I'm going to use for this example, but you can use anything that meets your purposes.

So, you've got something to write with, you're ready to start.

The first question is: what are you trying to accomplish here? What would "done" look like? What is our goal?

I need to end up with a version of Rosetta that will make the correct results if you don't want calls, and will also make the correct results if you do.

The goal here is that you end up with a statement that you can definitively say (a) Yes this is what I wanted or (b)No this is not right because _______

In this case, in order to do that, I'll need to define "correct results" for both call- and non-call versions. But if I have that nailed down, then this statement meets that criterion: I'll be able to say "Yes, this is what I wanted: see, it makes the correct result for calls, and it makes the correct result for not-calls". Or else I'll be able to say, "No, this is wrong: see, it makes the correct result for calls, but on not-calls it does X and we wanted Y."

I have a clear, definitive standard about what I need to do and whether or not I've done it.

But there was a prerequisite there: I need to define "correct results".

So that goes on a sticky note: Create test that will compare my results to existing call!Rosetta-results and to existing not-call!Rosetta-results.

[ID: Two blue boxes, one on top of the other. The top one says in white text "Create test to compare my results to call!results" The bottom one says "Create test to compare my results to not-call!results"] OK. So now we know what we want. The second question is: what do we need to do in order to get that? Here's where the sticky-note recording system really shines, because you don't have to answer this question sequentially. You just start writing down every single thing that is not the way you want it to end up.

I need it to remove commas in the python script, not the bash script

I need to delete the first part of the get_runs() function, which doesn't do anything

I need to delete the rest of the parameters passed to build_query_script() function, because runs encompasses all the others

while we're on that subject, runs doesn't even need the group_variable, so let's pull that out of the parameter document

we also have a dmf defined, which the bash script demands but doesn't use; let's change that demand

since we're changing the structure of the parameter document, we don't need to pull new metrics for each run, so let's move that outside of the runs() loop and only run once

right now the parameter document is ALMOST but not quite "one row per template". Make it so it's actually one row per template.

among other things, that's going to require making it possible for a template to be followed by nothing at all, since it's the assumption that a template will have a metrics block after it that makes it not quite one row per template. So make it possible to publish a template with a null block

the other thing that's weirdly hard-coded is the definition of what a block looks like. Would it make more sense to separate that out into an input file, like the parameters document? On the one hand, that would make it much more flexible; on the other hand, that's another piece that can break. Don't know. Put a question mark on it.

etc

Here's what it looks like at the end of this step:

[ID: A black and white background showing many boxes in two different shades of blue, all with white text. Some of the boxes are overlapping each other.]

As you can see, at this phase you don't need to worry about any of the following:

ordering the tasks. Just stick 'em right on top of each other for now

how you're going to do any of this. Right now we just need to know what, not how

sticking to only one project. As I was working on this, it occurred to me that this whole process would have been a heck of a lot easier if someone had just made a user manual for this, and since I have to go through all the code line-by-line anyway, I might as well write up the documentation while I'm at it. (To help out future-me, if nothing else.) So I put those tasks on another color of sticky note.

making notes that make any ***ing sense to anyone else. This process is for you, and only you need to understand what you're talking about it. Phrase it in ways that make sense to your brain, and to hell with anyone else.

on that topic, also don't worry about making steps that are "too small" or "too dumb" to write down. This is for you. If "save document" feels like a step to you, then write it down.

You also don't need to get every single step involved in the project right now. Get as many as you can, to be sure, but the process is designed on the assumption that you ARE going to forget important steps, and is designed to handle that.

When you can't think of any more steps, then the third question is: what order does it make sense to do these in? Are there any steps that would be easier if you did another step first? Are there any that literally cannot be done unless another step is complete?

This is also a good place to group steps if they fit together nicely. When I used physical sticky notes, I used two different sizes; digitally I can of course make them whatever size I want.

So I have several documentation steps that (a) do need to be written to make sense to other people and (b) I really need to know what's going on before I can do that. I could write them now, but if I did, I'd just end up re-writing them based on things that change as I'm coding. So we'll move those to the end:

[ID: Three dark blue boxes with white text. They read "Create step-by-step instructions for creating your own metric agg", "Create step-by-step instructions for modifying a metric", "Create step-by-step instructions for modifying a query."]

These parts, though -- if I had all the variable structures written down, I could look at them while I'm coding. Then I won't have to keep scrolling back and forth in the code, trying to remember if it's an array or a dictionary while also trying to remember what part of the code I was working on. Brilliant. Move that to the front.

[ID: Seven dark blue boxes with white text, three large, four small. The first one is large and says "Write up explanation of how Rosetta works." The second one is large and says "Document structure of all variables." Attached to that one are four smaller boxes that say "All_blocks", "Runs", "metric", "New_block". The third large one says "Document what qb_parameters.csv contains"]

Also, while I'm at it, I should get the list of variables I need to document -- then I won't have to keep scrolling to find them. Make those sub-steps.

I definitely keep needing to look up what's in the parameters document, so I should write that down, too. For the user manual I also should write down what's in the metric document, but I don't need that for myself, so I can send that to the end.

[ID: The same three dark blue boxes from two screenshots ago (create step-by-step instructions for metric agg, modifying a metric, and modifying a query), now with another dark blue box in front of them with white text that says "Document what granular_metrics.tsv contains."]

These five are all small steps, and are all related in that they don't actually (hopefully) change the functionality of the code; they're just stuff left over from prior versions of this code. So we can lump them all together.

[ID: Five light blue boxes with white text that say "Delete first part of get_runs()", "Have build_query_script only receive the "run" parameter" "Delete dmf" "Move metrics=get_metrics() outside build_all_blocks (all the way up to the top level?" "Delete group_variable from qp_parameters"]

My brain likes this better, so that I can keep track of fewer "main steps", but that's just a peculiarity of me -- you should lump and split however you prefer to make this process easier for you.

[ID: The same five boxes from the prior screenshot, now all made smaller and attached to a larger box that says "Remove Legacy Code"]

Keep going, step by step, sticky by sticky, until you've got them in order. If -- while you're doing this -- you remember another thing you need to do, write it on a sticky and slap it on the pile; you don't have to stop what you're doing to deal with it, because it's written down and it's on the pile and it will get processed; you can just keep working on the thing you're on right now.

[ID: All the same boxes from the first screenshot, now in a neat row. Some of the original boxes have been grouped together. The ones that were said to be at the beginning of the process are on the left and the ones that were said to be at the end are on the right.]

Step four: for the love of all that's holy, SAVE THIS LIST.

Write it on your cubicle whiteboard where it won't be erased

write it on a piece of paper and tape it to the office wall

send an email to yourself

take a picture with your phone

I don't care but save it.

When I used physical sticky notes, I kept them all on the hood of my cubicle's shelf. Now, as you can see, I use Powerpoint, which is irritating af but does allow me to keep everything in a single document, which I can write down the path of.

[ID: White text on a black background says "open ~/Documents/Rosetta\ Modifications\ and \Documentation.pptx" The next line says "Notes in Rocketbook pg 10-12, 16" The next line says "Turn that into documentation that can be used for making modifications."]

And now (finally) you can answer the question "How would I even get started on that?" You look at the first thing on the list, and you treat it as its own project. You can hyperfocus on this step and completely forget about everything else this project requires, because everything you need to remember for the rest of it is written down.

If, as you're working a step, you think of something else you need to do for the big project, write it on a sticky and slap it on the pile. Don't even worry about trying to order it or identify sub-steps; as long as it's not blocking the thing you need to work on right now, you don't have to care. Just stick that bugger anywhere at all on the list, and go back to what you were doing. When you un-hyperfocus and come back to look at your list, there'll be a big sticky note stuck sideways across all the rest of the steps, and you'll remember to file and order it then.

Other benefits of this system

1) The first question really helps with unclear directions from your boss. You can take whatever they told you to do, and translate it into a requirement that is clearly either met or not-met, and then run it back by the boss.

If they say, "No, no, we want ______" then phew! You just saved a huge miscommunication and weeks of wasted work! What a good employee you are! What an excellent team player with strong communication skills!

If they say "Yes, that's what I want," then you know -- for sure -- what it is you're trying to accomplish. Your anxiety is reduced, and your boss thinks you're super-conscientious.

(And if your boss is a jerk who likes to move the goalposts and blame it on their subordinates, then have this conversation over email, so you can show it to their boss or to HR should it become necessary.)

2) Having this project map means that when you spend an hour staring at the requirements and trying to figure out how to get started (which, let's be honest, you were definitely going to do anyway) ... When your boss/coworker comes by and says, "How's it going?" Instead of having to say "I haven't even started 😞" You can say, "Pretty well! I've got all the steps mapped out and am getting ready to start on implementation!" and show them your list, and they think you're very organized and meticulous. 3) Sometimes, especially in corporate jobs, you and your coworkers will run into a problem that's too big for even Neurotypicals to hold all in their heads. At that point, the NTs will be completely lost -- they've never had to develop a way to handle projects they can't just look at and know how to get started. So then you pipe up in the meeting and say, "OK, well, what exactly are we trying to accomplish?" and everybody at the conference table looks at you like you're a goddamned genius and you don't have to tell them that you use this exact same process to remember how to make a sandwich 😅

4) Having this project map makes it so much easier to stop work and then start it up again later, but this post is already really really really long, so I'm going to address that in a separate (really really long) post.

#adhd #adhd life #tips #semi-solicited advice #gpoy #your mileage may vary #long post #very long post #sorry I wish I wrote more concisely too

117 notes · View notes

ladyalienist · 3 years

Text

So what happened yesterday is that I posted a rant about fatphobia in radical feminist spaces. And today I woke up finding some notes, some I had already seen yesterday but I didn't bother to reply, which I deeply regret.

Yes because I would like to offer a shoutout to that one single person who reblogged it with a series of tags that proved the point, but sadly some hours later she changed her mind and erased the tags, thus forbidding me to offer her the attention she clearly deserved. I managed to take one look at them and they were along the lines of "you're a lazy and not feminist dipshit", so luckily the concept of such a profound insight has not gotten entirely lost, even if the poetics of the wording has. Food for thought, my ladies, food for thought!

However, another reply I managed to save:

@september-morning-butch I hope you don't mind me making another post to reply to your insight, which I indeed found fascinating.

See... I find it fascinating that you automatically assumed I never once in my life spoke to a sporty person.

I was a sporty person. Some posts earlier I wrote about the sports I've tried and sometimes kept on doing for years, and since I am human and I live in a society, I also have had interaction with fitness enthusiasts, coaches and casual sporty human beings. Most of my friends hit the gym on the regular or practice some other kind of physical activity. When I have spare time I, too, do so.

Maybe I should have asked more expert sporty people. Like this man, for instance. Or this woman. Or, why not, this guy. The list goes on, and on, and on: maybe not every sport enthusiast will tell me the same things.

I find it also fascinating that you assume I do not know the criteria for a diet to be actually working. Do you by any chance think that fat people do not ever try to go on diets, or that I, personally, did never try? Because I did.

And now I will share with you what usually happens when Average Jane, who just needs to keep off those 10 kilos and then she's fine, goes on a diet-and-gym-new-lifestyle:

Average Jane decides to go to a nutritionist, who will (usually) tell her to cut all processed foods, all sugars and most carbs and invest on proteins. She then will subscribe to the gym and receive her personalized (which is usually just a standard one but let's not become too pedantic) programme. She starts the next day, full of good intentions. At first she's enthusiastic: she's finally losing those ugly ugly fat rolls! She will be in shape! Her lifestyle will be healthy and good, no more food guilt! Then, usually after a month or two, she starts noticing that the weight loss is slowing down and she's stabilizing somewhere that's not her ideal weight. Let's say she wants to weigh 50 kilos: she weighs 55 and can't seem to go under. At the same time, gym is getting increasingly tiring and she's starting to crave sugar and carbs, she dreams of full plates at night, every waking moment is spent in food obsessing. At some point she'll either understand that she needs to restrict more, and then more, and then more, in order to keep those rolls off herself, and I don't know how to tell you that this is usually called an eating disorder, or she'll give up and order takeaway one evening, gulp it down, immediately feel better, and in a year she'll have all of her previous fat back on, plus some more in most cases. Two months after she decides that after all it wasn't that bad, and goes back to the nutritionist and to the gym and the cycle restarts. This is called yo-yo dieting and it's far, far more dangerous for health than just staying fat and eating balanced meals.

Now, am I being catastrophic? A little. But I'm not making this up, I'm paraphrasing words from at least one trainer who bragged about her own weight loss journey and how she had spent the last few years never enjoying a social gathering because she cannot deviate from her diet in any way. Not so different from what you told me, but she was totally bragging about... being miserable during celebrations. How is this in any way good for her?

Does this mean "go get stuffed on McDonald's"? Absolutely not. Following a healthy lifestyle and a good diet and exercise regimen is essential! And it's true that sometimes lifestyle changes can and will do wonders for your body! You could cut off McDonald's for anticapitalistic/antispecistic reasons and realize you're losing weight, and that's amazing! However, that's not how most people work and I don't know how to tell you that being constantly hungry because "that's my new lifestyle and I need to keep the weight down" is not healthy in the slightest!

You were unlucky, living with an ugly disorder that requires loads of attention. I understand this and I fully see where you're coming from. Making eating choices that are good for our health sometimes is a hard path that requires willpower, and I am not saying that it doesn't do wonders and that your life quality doesn't improve a lot when you manage it.

But framing the "not working-ness" of dieting as a matter of willpower and basically saying that the only reason they don't is that fat people are not enthusiastic enough about their health... is again re-framing that you think fatness=laziness and moral failure.

So thank you for expressing your point of view in an articulated way instead of just hurling insults, but my point still stands.

#radblr #radical feminism critique #radical feminsim #radical feminist safe #radical feminists please interact #some people are fat #fat acceptance #why do you keep on derailing stuff #useless ramble

36 notes · View notes

sparksflamesembersashes · 3 years

Text

**Spoilers for 11.4** Some babbles concerning "Rendition":

Dog barks so much, he'd be a total liability in a real ZA. And it's always the same audio bark loop, I mean, c'mon, that's as lame as it is lazy. I don't have to hear Dog to see him, and in a ZA, no one should.

How realistic is it that Leah is the only woman among fifteen savages like the Reapers, and isn't being passed around among them like a tray of party snacks?

I want Dog to kill Leah in the end. Not Daryl. Not Carol. Dog. Leah clearly still has a thing for Daryl. This is why (in my mind) he can't be the one to kill her. It would be just too cold for our redneck archer, who is a soft and fuzzy teddy bear inside. And Carol doesn't need to be further stigmatized by slaying her soulmate's ex.

The way Leah chloroformed Daryl is sneaky and cold as hell. If he had any illusions about what might exist between them, it should've ended there.

Water boarding. Afghanistan. Shades of Guantanamo, Blackwater, and the Bush regime. That's not an accident. For anyone who hasn't noticed yet, Season 11 is especially political.

Where did Leah find a cosmetologist to color her hair in the ZA? It looks blonde to me, not gray. Speaking of hair, how much does Leah look like Carol in some scenes, it's like a mirror. Her hair (long & swept back), her stance, her sheer badassery? Even down to the locks of hair dangling alongside her face. @gunmetal-ring (I think, apologies if it was someone else) refers to this as Evil Carol, and I have to agree. It's so obvious.

Daryl in a concrete box again... hey wait, I've seen this movie before... except this time, he's clothed and not tortured with "Easy Street" and eating dog food sandwiches.

Oh goodie, religious fanatics. Pope talking in tongues is a nice touch to ramp up the crazy. Just when you thought the Whisperers were as whacked as they get. Also, is it just me, or is Pope the spitting image of Walter White, aka Heisenberg? I see you, AMC.

Leah: "Couldn't have been happy. Not in a world like this." I see this as foreshadowing for Caryl who WILL find happiness in their world.

I really really don't want Leah to redeem or sacrifice herself to save Daryl, please don't make her that would be too fucking much to stomach.

Pope tells Leah, "I just see a guy who wants to get in your pants," "...who couldn't stop gazing at somebody he loved." (Caryl Caryl Caryl, cuz we know how Daryl gazes at Carol, riiight?) Ok So maybe Pope needs new glasses cuz I didn't see that at all re Daryl gazing at Leah, but whatever...

Love how Pope told Leah he trusted her more than the others, then tried to fry her crispy in that shack with Daryl. Reaper love is weird. And Leah telling Daryl "you left me." Bitch, you ran off and abandoned your DOG. So, don't even.

Also, how is it they can start all these fires on TWD and they never blow up into a conflagration that burns half the state? That's what would happen where I live.

Every time I heard "Bossie," a cow mooed in the back of my head.

If he's only got 15 people I don't see how Pope made the good call by frying one of them in the campfire.

Carol was religious once, too. Just a random thought.

Where is Dog? What happened to him?

Once again, Leah levels the business end of her shotgun at Daryl. You think he'd learn.

Of course Leah has feelings for Daryl. He's a man of honor.

Pope: "human nature is to run when you are scared.... It takes divine strength to face your fear head on. To risk everything for someone else." Remind you of anyone?

The smouldering embers on Daryl and Leah's clothing as they escaped the burning shack was a nice effects touch.

Did I mention I am thoroughly enjoying S11, so far?

Caryl need to suffer a long separation, if we want an epic Caryl reunion that double duties to wake their asses up. Therefore I won't be shocked or dismayed if they are still apart at the 11A finale.

#caryl

34 notes · View notes

chockfullofsecrets · 3 years

Text

Critical Role: Embarrassing and Undignified

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: Caleb doesn’t smile much. It’s something he rather likes about the man, that he prefers to save his pleasure for that which is truly worth it - but there’s nothing else he can call the expression that briefly narrows those blue eyes. “Reacting like that in front of a friendly tiefling?” he says - teasing, almost, and Essek feels his stomach flip. “I am not so sure.”

Essek's time in the hot tub goes a little awry.

Wordcount: 3.3k

A/N: Fill for this anon prompt! (i’m so sorry for taking 2+ months to write this... i love Essek so much and he needs more tk content)

---

Essek is no stranger to being - unusual. He often welcomes it, really. Achieving a status such as his for the better part of a century comes with its fair share of eccentricities, his floating among them, and at this point hovering just above the rest of the Dynasty has become something of a favored routine.

And yet, it seems, the Nein have him beaten at every turn.

He had meant to take his leave directly after dinner, unsure of his place among Yasha’s solemn questions of loneliness and Beauregard’s transparent attempts to pry information from him and Jester’s threat to invoke a Zone of Truth for idle gossip -

(and the slight jealousy, he admits, if only to himself, of seeing Caleb, ambitious and focused and loved, among them - )

But. Lonely and friendless he is, as has been quite thoroughly pointed out to him through the evening, and he’s intrigued enough by the rarity of this hot tub to clamber up awkwardly onto the enclosing stone wall and dangle his feet into the water while his hosts bustle around and shuck off various pieces of clothing.

Caleb sits next to him, rolling his own pant legs crisply to the knee and lowering his feet in. “What do you think?”

He looks over - thank the Light, Caleb’s still wearing his shirt. “It’s - nice,” he says. He drags his toe through a slow stream of bubbles rising from what he assumes must be the hottest parts of the depths. “Unfamiliar, but quite impressive that you’ve constructed it on your own.”

Caleb raises an eyebrow. “The hot tub, or -” He traces a small circle with his index finger, encompassing himself and his companions. “- all of this?”

Decades of court experience well up unbidden on his tongue. “The compliment extends to you either way,” he offers smoothly.

Caleb squints at him, but before he can say anything more the rest of the Nein are joining them with pleased exclamations and a thoroughly distracting amount of splashing. Essek watches, bemused, as Jester flops in belly-first before even unbuckling the last clasp of her outergarments - she wrestles them off, finally, crumpling the dripping green cloak into a ball and flinging it away, and he winces on behalf of the fine Kryn fabric.

She looks around, eyes lighting on him, and her hands fly to her round cheeks with an excited gasp. “Essek! Your legs!”

Startled, he looks down - they seem quite normal, with his boots off and his neatly pressed trousers folded at the knee, if a little more purple than anyone else’s present. “I would prefer to keep my clothes dry, yes.”

She leans in, eyes wide. “Are they re-al?”

Light be with him - she’s hardly said anything, but he struggles not to flush under the scrutiny. “Ah, yes? Why should they not be?”

Just then, something brushes lightly over the sole of his foot - he startles, and -

His seat is well made, certainly, but not enough to stand up to the Nein’s shenanigans; as he recoils, his center of gravity shifts right off the narrow ledge and he’s tumbling backwards before he can do more than blink.

Light, if this is how he dies -

He flails for a solution - it’s been years, at least, since he’s done something so pedestrian as fall, and there are spells for this, certainly, but what he’s prepared for today is more showy fare, in case the Nein asked for a demonstration, why can’t he think -

A hand closes roughly around his bicep, then another around the opposite shoulder, and then he’s dangling from Caleb’s grip with his back nearly parallel to the floor - he reaches out too, panicked, and crumples the front of Caleb’s shirt in a death grip.

“Good reflexes,” he says, breathless. Blood pounds in his ears. Caleb stares down at him, blue eyes wide and jaw tight -

“Ooh, now kiss!” Jester hoots.

The rest of the Nein burst into laughter behind them. Caleb goes bright red and hurriedly turns away, looking over his shoulder. “One of you jokers come here and help me, please,” he chides, strained, “I am not the muscle of this group.”

The tension in Caleb’s face becomes infinitely more explicable - finally capable of rational thought, Essek flicks his fingers and casts a weight-lightening cantrip just as another strong hand latches onto his knee and bodily tows him upright. Yasha nods at him, chest completely bare, and wades back to her corner as Veth pops up from nowhere with her long ears twitching maniacally. “I’m SO sorry,” she screeches, insistent far beyond the point of sincerity. “I brushed against your feet COMPLETELY ON ACCIDENT.”

“VERY ACCIDENTAL,” Jester agrees loudly. Next to her, Fjord winces.

Veth’s voice softens, then, as she pats him gingerly on the leg. “I didn’t think you would do that - are you okay?”

“It’s all right,” he says weakly. Her ears droop in what seems to be genuine relief - it is pointless to care, perhaps, but he feels better for having reassured her.

He sucks in a solid breath for what feels like the first time in minutes and turns to Caleb to thank him. There’s still a guarding hand resting warmly against his back - and worse still, he realizes belatedly that his own hand is still fisted in the buttons of Caleb’s shirt.

He snatches it hastily away, ears burning. “Ah, my apologies. I shall pay closer attention to gravity, for the rest of the night.”

Caleb doesn’t smile much. It’s something he rather likes about the man, that he prefers to save his pleasure for that which is truly worth it - but there’s nothing else he can call the expression that briefly narrows those blue eyes. “Reacting like that in front of a friendly tiefling?” he says - teasing, almost, and Essek feels his stomach flip. “I am not so sure.”

A friendly -

Surprised, he glances over at Jester and finds her wearing a smug expression that might not be out of place on Da’leth himself, if significantly sweeter. “E-ssek,” she wheedles, wide-eyed with delight, drawing every syllable to its maximum extent. “Are your feet like, super ticklish?”

Essek blinks - ticklish? But he hasn’t - really, he can’t remember the last time he might have known. As a child, perhaps, when Verin used to tempt him into playing by tackling him straight off his feet and -

Oh. Oh, dear.

At least that particular piece of evidence is decades out of date - a poor excuse to discard it, but he’s willing to compromise in the face of Jester’s ever-sharpening grin and the traitorously pleased squirm in the pit of his own stomach. “What? No, of course not, I was merely surprised-”

“You can be surprised and ticklish,” Jester corrects, skipping forward with a splash. Essek shirks back into Caleb’s hand, millimeters from tumbling off the ledge again, and she giggles. “And I’m pret-ty sure that you’re both.”

The hot tub, for all of its excellent qualities, is unfortunately not large enough to keep her at bay for longer than that. She reaches out as he’s still deciding which direction would be the best to flee in and scoops his ankle up in a grip like steel. “Ah-” he sputters. “I - Jester, wait-”

She drags a fingernail up the arch of his foot.

It feels like one of the few times while developing a lightning-based spell that he’d electrocuted himself - but the feeling doesn’t stop, shooting up his leg and tickling at his lungs too to make them shiver, and it’s silly, and he just -

He panics, jerks back against Caleb’s hand again, and in a moment of brash stupidity the animal instinct of his brain decides that the only safe place to hide is Caleb himself. He buries his face in Caleb’s side and grabs him around the waist just in time to shriek as Jester repeats the same lazy route up and down the sole of his foot, pausing only to scratch tingling patterns into his heel. “Tickle, tickle! Aw, guys, he’s so ticklish, look at how much he’s laughing!”

The fabric of Caleb’s shirt isn’t much of a barrier to Jester’s teasing - or to his own ticklish laughter, embarrassingly high-pitched and loud in a way that makes his whole face heat with shame - but at least they can’t see him blush.

Caleb jumps a little as Essek latches onto him, but his hand stays put, stabilizing, and starts to rub gentle circles on his back as Essek dissolves into cackling at another spidering assault on his arch. “Jester, please be gentle,” he says, amused. “I am not sure that is a good idea.”

Essek’s not sure how he feels either. It’s terribly embarrassing, and undignified, and if this was happening in front of any other being in the Dynasty he would have to learn some sort of memory erasure spell, but - the Nein have never cared for his layers upon layers of decorum anyway, have they, always prying for indignation and confusion and warmth that he’s not certain he even possesses.

Caught between Jester and Caleb and a vat of hot water, with the rest of the Nein making relatively amused noises behind him, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt warmer.

Jester just laughs. “I’m barely doing anything!” she teases, shaking Essek’s leg lightly. “He’s just so sensitive - oh, Essek, is it ‘cause you never walk anywhere? Is that why your feet are so soft and tickly?”

He’s giddy, even with the sudden reprieve, giggling too hard to speak. “I - ha - I dohon’t - ehe-”

“Of course it is,” Beauregard says smugly from a distance that seems far too close, “waving all those secrets and magic over our heads and he’s hoisted on his own fuckin’ petard-”

“What’s that?” Caduceus asks. Essek vaguely remembers the term to describe some sort of bomb, but Jester chooses that moment to send her mischievous fingers exploring under his fucking toes and it tickles like absolute hell. He shrieks even louder than before, if such a thing were possible, and makes a solid attempt to burrow his way straight into Caleb’s ribcage as his entire leg jolts in involuntary protest. No amount of desperate attempts to flex or curl his foot make the sensation any more bearable - it’s like the sucking feeling of a Teleport spell, like everything inside him is unmoored and floating in a sea of mirth and the only way he can get any of it out is to scream.

His cheeks hurt and he realizes, suddenly, that he’s beaming.

Jester cackles. “Come get his other foot, Beau,” she urges, easing off to just pinch his big toe between two fingers and wiggle it. “He totally loves it, he’s not even kicking-”

“Uh-huh,” Beauregard says, and there’s another splash. “Maybe I will.”

Caleb’s still rubbing his back - he stops, briefly, and from his huddled position Essek feels that Beauregard has jostled his other side on her way past. “His feet might be worse than yours,” she murmurs. He can hear the grin in her voice. “Better hope Jes doesn’t remember and go after you next.”

“Don’t remind her,” Caleb says, strangled. It’s remarkably friendly for Beauregard, though, and Essek is once again caught up in the paradox of this little group - merciless but fiercely protective, reluctant but trusting. It’s hard to be regretful - or wistful, maybe, one of those feelings that twinges in his chest every time he thinks of the Nein nowadays - with Jester tickling her way up the back of his bare calf and cooing over the way it makes him wriggle. But his heart, a traitor to the last, manages. There are so many secrets between them still.

Beauregard seizes his other ankle, hauling it up from the water, and he realizes for one terrible moment that if they were to, say, force him out of hiding and keep tickling, he might be inclined to spill some of them. “Scoot over, Jes,” Beauregard says, and there’s a squeak that, for once in the evening, doesn’t come from him. She chuckles. “Good thing he’s not trying to tickle you back, huh?”

He expects Jester to sputter and redirect her, as he would, but she sounds entirely unconcerned at the prospect. “Oh, Beau, do you want to have a tickle fight? We totally could, after this-”

“No,” she says, not entirely drowning out the little panicked noise that Caleb makes. “Not the kind of wrestling I want to do when half of us aren’t wearing shirts, if you know what I mean-”

“Beau!” Jester shrieks, giggling. Fjord groans loudly from the other side of the hot tub, and Essek, still squirming, is very sure that he’s blushing enough for it to show on the back of his neck, under his high collar. “Who do you want to wrestle with? Is it Yasha-”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, moving on.” Beauregard interrupts hastily. There’s a popping noise that takes a second for Essek to place as her cracking her knuckles. “Hey, Essek - you think you’d trade another favor to get us to stop?”

Essek flails for something resembling a complete sentence as Jester’s fingers curl teasingly behind one of his knees. “Nngh - heh-”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” She squeezes the back of his other knee, barks out a laugh as he jumps. “Jes, stop messing around, let’s get his feet.”

That makes him kick, but at this point his entire lower half is restrained - all he can do is take one last breath before fingertips are scribbling over both his soles and he’s cackling so forcefully that his laughter peaks into agonized wheezing with each fresh gulp of air. “Hhh - ha - ahahaaaa, hA -”

Caleb shifts a little, bending until one of the strands that always hang stubbornly loose from where he ties his hair back brushes the tip of Essek’s burning ear. Essek shivers. “You can tell them to stop, you know,” he murmurs.

Essek’s almost entirely sure that he’s crying into Caleb’s shirt, tears leaking from squeezed-shut eyes as Beauregard and Jester torment his feet, but Caleb seems - fond, oddly - as he starts to rub his back again. “They’re not trying to be cruel - I believe they’re just excited that you’ve. Ah. Lowered yourself to our level, perhaps.”

And what level is that, Essek wants to ask, suddenly conjuring a mental image of Caleb in the same throes of helpless laughter. But he’s barely capable of that, as he’s currently dying, so he just tightens his grip on Caleb and shakes his head. He can barely even register Jester and Beauregard’s teasing anymore - he doesn’t think he can speak right now without embarrassing himself even more if he tried.

“Fuck, alright,” Fjord says abruptly from somewhere miles away, “I think he’s actually crying now, the Dynasty is going to have our heads if we break him.”

“He wouldn’t let them, he’s our friend,” Jester trills, but she does stop tickling, ghosting a hand up over his heaving shoulders to pat him gently on the head. “His ears are really purple though, like magenta purple, I think he’s blushing.”

For some reason - perhaps because he can finally think - it strikes him, fighting through the warm and pleasantly tingling haze of being touched and gentled back into himself, that as much as the casual label of friend pleases him he cannot afford this kind of vulnerability.

“Or suffocating,” Beauregard says a moment later, dropping his foot unceremoniously back into the water. “Thelyss? You alive in there?”

And, a beat later, when he doesn’t reply - “Are you just, like, smelling Caleb now?”

“Gross,” Veth squawks. “Get him off, get him off!”

Caleb smells quite pleasant, actually, but that’s not the point - his self-awareness is slowly trickling back in as he remembers who and where he is, and what he’s done to the Nein, and now they’ve broken him and he would rather die than look any of them in the eye for the next year.

Caleb pats his back. “Come on, friend, chin up.”

And he’s right, Essek can’t afford to cling to this veneer of comfort any longer - but to his immediate and eternal shame, he whines and nuzzles further into Caleb’s ribs. Just a moment to gather his wits, maybe, and he’ll be able to Misty Step to the front door and don his mantle-

“No? Alright, then - I’ll go to work too, if I have to.”

The hand on his back lifts away and walks itself on two prodding fingers neatly up under Essek’s arm, gently wriggling into the hollow until he can’t bear to keep his arms up any longer. “Nnn, hnn! - eheh, thahat’s - enough, please-”

It’s. It’s not, is the problem - he tries to stir up anger, distaste, but there’s only fear. He would deal with this indignity again, suffer it gladly, even, just to have them speak to him kindly. It’s new, and terrifying, and he needs to think it over alone with a generous glass of wine in his tower.

He shrinks back in on himself, still snickering at the tickling under his arms, and Caleb takes the opportunity to grab him neatly by the shoulders and sit him back up - Essek catches a glimpse of his blue eyes shining with rare merriment and promptly swivels to look away from all of them. No one stops him as he rolls his pant legs down and shoves his feet into his boots, heedless of the damp. He can feel their curious gazes prickle on the back of his neck - shifting into an unconscious competence that’s carried him through many anxieties before, he’s already floating off the ground before he can remind himself otherwise. “I’m going to go now,” he says, rushed, still too terrified to turn his head. “Thank you, I -”

“Essek, wait!” Jester says, confused, and Beau scoffs, and he’s not going to think about how he can recognize their voices without even seeing them, he’s not -

Yasha’s voice, at last, breaks through the hubbub, and it’s only in deference to their conversation before dinner that he pauses to listen.

“Hey,” she says, quiet and certain enough to shake him. “You said that you’re lonely, right?”

The noise fades away. He inches down to the ground with it. “Recently, yes,” he replies, just above a whisper, fighting to keep his voice steady with the enormity of this, this feeling -

“I didn’t say so before,” she continues, perfectly calm, “but it’s a little scary, right? To not be so lonely, anymore.”

Essek says nothing - he knows, without the mantle, that they can all see the slight tremble of his shoulders.

“Go away, then,” she says confidently, and then, hastily, “oh, no, that’s not right -”

“Yasha,” Jester squeaks, horrified, and Essek, to his own surprise, laughs. More of a chuckle, really, but. That’s a relief, after all this.

He can place her roughly in the rightmost corner of the hot tub, turns just enough to catch her heterochromatic gaze in his periphery. Her mouth drops slightly open before she gathers herself. “I just, I meant -” She inhales nervously. “I used to leave all the time, to go do - things - and come back when I was ready. You can do that too, if you want, we won’t mind, as long as you come back. And the tickling - we’re all ticklish, you don’t have to feel bad about it - ah, maybe someone else should say something.”

Caduceus pats her shoulder. “Nah, that was pretty good.”

Essek agrees, despite his better judgment. He rolls his shoulders, forcing them loose. “No, no, that’s - helpful,” he assures, and then, taking a deep breath and praying that his cheeks have cooled, he turns to look at them all. “I am to show you my abode tomorrow, yes?”

Caleb looks extraordinarily stressed. “Ah, you don’t have to, if you would rather-”

Beau punches him in the shoulder harshly enough to make him wince. “Yes.”

“Yes, and breakfast pastries!” Jester cheers, clapping her hands together - he’ll have to talk to his staff tonight.

“Until tomorrow, then,” he says, and spares only a brief smile before casting Misty Step to take him to the door and then again to the street.

He’s not quite ready to lose all his dignity, yet.

#tickling #critical role #shadowgast #essek thelyss #jester lavorre #caleb widogast #chocfic #it's been a long monday and i needed to post this before i give in to the impulse to collapse hhh

125 notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Toxicity - ao3

- part 2 -

The situation with the Wen sect continued to deteriorate.

Not too long after finally conceding to his friendship with Lan Xichen and taking on Meng Yao as his exceedingly competent deputy, it became clear to Nie Mingjue that there was no way he could leave his sect to Nie Huaisang with the issue unaddressed. For his brother to live free and carefree as he had always wished for him, the Wen sect would need to be completely eradicated, leaving no remnants that would come back later to harm his brother, with his mediocre cultivation and laziness and desire to live a worry-free life.

If that was what it took to make Nie Huaisang’s dreams come true, Nie Mingjue would devote the few years he had left to seeing it through.

“I want you to go back to the Cloud Recesses when the war starts,” Nie Mingjue told Nie Huaisang, holding him tightly in his arms in relief after hearing the reports of the horrific indoctrination camp at the Nightless City that all the other sect heirs had been forced to go to.

Nie Huaisang had not gone.

When the request had come to the Unclean Realm, Nie Mingjue had told the messenger that the Wen sect could not force him to comply without starting a war, and that if they wished to do so, he would welcome it. He had activated all of the defenses he had spent a lifetime building for Nie Huaisang’s protection and refused to budge one bit on his refusal no matter how much Nie Huaisang said that it would be all right, that he would handle it, that surely it wouldn’t be so bad, that it would give them more time to prepare...

In the end, the Wen sect had backed off.

In the end, the other sect heirs had not been all right.

They been used as bait for a wretched beast in a cave. Several smaller sect heirs had died; Lan Wangji had ended up with a broken leg and Wei Wuxian with wounds all over and both of them starved half to death, Jiang Cheng with his feet bloody from running all the way back to the Lotus Pier, Jin Zixuan who’d never known a day of hardship in his life thin as a rake from vomiting up the poor food they’d served him for weeks and with a twitch in his eye from the constant ambushes they’d faced in their escape…the best and brightest of the youngest generation, and Nie Huaisang was far away from their standard.

He had been right to refuse to let him go.

“The Cloud Recesses, da-ge?” Nie Huaisang asked, surprised. “Not stay here?”

Nie Mingjue shook his head. “Even if we can get agreement with all the other sects on a response, which I think might be possible now that their heirs were so mistreated, the Wen sect will redouble their efforts to attack us as their greatest threat. We can’t win a war by sitting inside our walls, and that means whoever is left behind here will need to protect our home against a siege with virtually no manpower.”

That person would not be Nie Huaisang. His gentle younger brother - no, even if he could, Nie Mingjue would never permit it.

"You’ll be safe at the Cloud Recesses,” he continued. “Xichen took me to tour their defenses the first time I visited. They were extremely strong, just as you’d expect from a places as reclusive as that, and those were just what they were willing to show me. It will reassure me to know that you are there and safe.”

Nie Huaisang’s shoulders slumped in silent agreement, and then a moment later he brightened. “At least I’ll be able to spent some more time with Xichen-xiong, who my da-ge likes so much…”

“You brat,” Nie Mingjue said, rolling his eyes and pulling him in for another hug. “Stop making fun of me.”

“I’ll stop making fun of you when you finally confess your feelings to him! You’ve liked him for such a long time, and you’re so straightforward about everything else. Why won’t you do this?”

Nie Mingjue hesitated.

“…da-ge?” Nie Huaisang asked, sensitive to such things. “Is there something I should know?”

Nie Mingjue licked his lips. “It’s been getting worse,” he confessed. “The – every eight years.”

Nie Huaisang went as still as a statue.

“You know how I always spend my birthday in my room, even on off years, just in case? There was always a little pain. It used to be just a bit on the date itself – minimal most years outside the eighth, but still present – but recently...”

“Recently, da-ge?”

“Recently I’ve started having the same sorts of pain at other times, randomly,” Nie Mingjue confessed. “And after what happened at the last one…I barely survived it then. The next eight year mark…if it’s as much worse than the previous time as that time had been from the time before that, then there’s no way that I’ll make it through.”

“Da-ge,” Nie Huaisang whispered, his eyes wide and glistening with tears. “That’s – there’s only five more years left.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Nie Mingjue said, pressing their foreheads together. “I had hoped that I would have longer.”

It didn’t seem fair that he was doomed to lose his mind at the age of thirty two, leaving Nie Huaisang to inherit the sect at the age of twenty-four, but there didn’t seem to be anything he could do about it. Meng Yao, who did not know the details of the curse, was very solicitous of him and Nie Huaisang both. He was always helping them find new efficiencies, new ways to delegate work, to make their lives easier; he helped Nie Huaisang, who suddenly devoted himself to learning about sect leadership with a fervor and occasional jags of crying, to find teachers and did not ask too many questions, undoubtedly assuming the cause to be the war; and as for Nie Mingjue, he always finding medicines that seemed to help stem the pain without ever asking for an explanation.

The medicines helped, but Nie Mingjue knew that it would only get worse from here on out.

The Wen sect, he concluded grimly, would need to go before then.

Despite his best efforts, the war dragged on, long and slow and painful. The Wen sect had amassed a considerable following, and while Nie Mingjue’s personal gifts were enough to protect him and sway the battles he himself engaged in, it was still not enough to fight their vast armies, nor to face up against the monstrous cultivation of Wen Ruohan, two or three generations his senior but with a face younger than his own.

At least Lan Xichen visited often, acting as a courier between the various battlegrounds and sects leading them, including his own. He brought news of Nie Huaisang, reassurances that Nie Mingjue’s brother was well, and Nie Mingjue was always immensely glad to see him - and not only for the news.

Through some coincidence and a variety of reasons, Meng Yao was never available to meet with Lan Xichen when he came, and Nie Mingjue was too selfish of his limited time with Lan Xichen to really complain. When they’d finally won a large enough battle to make a real difference, with Nie Mingjue taking Wen Xu’s head in a fair fight on the field of battle and getting dubbed ‘The King of Hejian’ for his troubles, he finally invited Lan Xichen to spend a full week with him, thinking that he could finally re-introduce the two and let them spend some time together. After all, it had been Lan Xichen who had sent Meng Yao, and he undoubtedly missed his company, and Nie Mingjue, who was doomed to leave Lan Xichen alone within a few years, had no right to be possessive.

And yet, right before Lan Xichen was scheduled to arrive – he’d been delayed by an unexpected downpour in Yunmeng that had caused some disaster for the common people there, and Jiang Cheng had requested his assistance in particular – Meng Yao approached Nie Mingjue with a plan to go behind enemy lines as a spy.

“I share a bloodline with the Jin sect,” he explained, wincing a little, and Nie Mingjue, far too familiar with the promiscuous tendencies of Sect Leader Jin, winced a little in return. “Between that and my role as your deputy, it would not be difficult for me to position myself as a ‘catch’ for Sect Leader Wen. I can use that to get into his confidence and feed you information, and perhaps we can end this war faster.”

Nie Mingjue was reluctant at first, thinking the risk too great even given the promise of rich reward, but Meng Yao was insistent, and in the end he was his own man, free to do what he wished. Nie Mingjue could do nothing more than wish him well.

“It’s a pity he left before you could see him,” he remarked to Lan Xichen, who smiled and nodded.

“You speak so highly of him,” he said warmly. “I would be happy to meet him.”

Nie Mingjue blinked. “Meet him? I thought…he came to me on your recommendation. Had you not met him before that?”

Now it was Lan Xichen’s turn to blink. “On my recommendation…? I don’t recall...You said his name was Meng Yao?”

Nie Mingjue frowned, but then thought of Meng Yao’s wince as he described his parentage and thought that perhaps he had adopted a new surname. “He shares a bloodline with the Jin clan?”

“Oh!” Lan Xichen exclaimed, and seemed surprised. “Oh, yes – I suppose – perhaps it truly is someone I know, and well enough to recommend to you, too. I hadn’t realized A-Yao had reached out to you…I wonder why he didn’t mention it to me?”

“A-Yao?” Nie Mingjue asked, arching his eyebrows, distracted from his concerns by a strange twisting feeling in his stomach that he knew the cause for but refused to acknowledge. “You are that close, then?”

Lan Xichen smiled. “If your Meng Yao and my A-Yao are the same, then yes, quite close. He saved my life once, long ago, and I consider him my younger brother.”

The tension in Nie Mingjue’s belly disappeared at once. “Oh, well, then,” he said with a shrug that he tried to make nonchalant. “In that case, it is truly a pity that you missed him.”

Lan Xichen was looking at him with fond eyes. “I am happier to see you,” he said, and reached to take Nie Mingjue’s hand into his own.

Nie Mingjue swallowed hard. “Xichen…”

“I am not blind,” Lan Xichen said. “I have held back only because you do not seem to have any interest in pursuing what you feel.”

“It’s not –” Nie Mingjue tried to speak and tripped over his own tongue. “There’s no lack of interest…”

“If this is about you dying, I won’t hear another word about it,” Lan Xichen said, and pressed his lips, warm and dry, to the back of Nie Mingjue’s hand. “I know a war is not the best time for such things, but please, think about it. Or do you think I would mourn you any less because the opportunity had slipped through our hands instead of us having seized it?”

Lan Xichen left not long thereafter, and Nie Mingjue thought his words over at length, the thought ringing in his ears until it seemed to consume everything. Even the by now persistent pangs of the poison seemed almost eradicated, as if he were healing instead of deteriorating, and in the end he decided that Lan Xichen was right.

He only had a few years left before the end – he didn’t want to die, to leave Lan Xichen behind when they were just starting out, but if he did, then let him leave those he loved behind with full hearts and happy memories, rather than regret.

Once decided, Nie Mingjue first sent a letter to Nie Huaisang, asking his permission – he received it joyfully, as he’d expected, but he wanted to be cautious about such things – and then the next letter to Lan Qiren, asking if he could send Lan Xichen his way at the next opportunity to discuss a personal matter of some importance to them both. Asking, furthermore, that if Lan Xichen still felt the way that he did in their previous discussion, that he grant them his approval.

The letter he received back was – slightly unusual, in truth, but for all of the mystifying references to size and scale, age and experience, and related concerns that seemed all directed at him rather than at Lan Xichen as he would have expected (he was taller, but only but a little; judging by appearance, older, by a little; and certainly no member of the Lan sect could be expected to have experience, and yet for some reason Lan Qiren seemed to be trying to offer him advice about not being overwhelmed), the letter contained the approval he had requested. That was the most important thing.

He smiled down at the letter, barely able to think from sheer happiness.

“Is it true, then?” Lan Wangji, who had brought Lan Qiren’s letter in person, asked. “You’re courting xiongzhang?”

“I am,” Nie Mingjue admitted, because he of all people knew how important the approval of younger brothers could be. “Your uncle has approved my suit. Is that all right with you?”

“Xiongzhang can do as he likes, of course,” Lan Wangji said, and he seemed almost – impressed, with Nie Mingjue? That seemed to be right, but he really wasn’t sure why. “And he agreed? To your suit, I mean?”

“He indicated that he would be willing,” Nie Mingjue said, a little uncomfortable at how Lan Wangji was staring at him as if he had just announced his intention to scale a very large mountain. “It was I who was – slow to understand.”

Lan Wangji raised his hands and saluted, bowing very deeply even though Nie Mingjue had long ago told him not to bother. Nie Mingjue got up and went over to try to pull him up at once, but Lan Wangji persisted.

“Chifeng-zun is a brave man,” Lan Wangji proclaimed in that serious way he had. “Noble and upright, steadfast and unflinching. I wish you both happiness.”

“Thank you,” Nie Mingjue said, now completely uncomfortable, but luckily Lan Wangji didn’t seem interested in saying any more and left shortly thereafter.

Lan sect, Nie Mingjue thought to himself, utterly bemused. He would never understand them.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #lan xichen #nielan #my fic #my fics #toxicity

93 notes · View notes