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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 1 year

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Words: 4,721 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female!Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: S10/S11, The Reapers Warnings: references to past injury and trauma (nothing graphic), honestly this part is mostly FEELS A/N: This is Part 5 of a series! Find all the parts on my pinned post, the Master List Summary: Daryl and Y/N finally have some time alone to start catching up on their time apart.

Part 4

Daryl was already on the couch when you came back in from getting DJ settled for the night. He looked up at the sound of your soft footsteps and your heart leapt. You sighed and sunk down on the other end of the couch, one of your legs pulled up and tucked beneath you, your body angled toward him.

“All good?” he drawled, and you nodded.

“Yeah. He’s stoked about the bed,” you laughed. You leaned your head on your hand, propped up on your elbow on the back of the couch. Daryl nodded and anxiously chewed on his bottom lip. “Here’s a question: what the hell were you thinking bringing up that squatter? Highly inappropriate for kids!” you laughed.

Daryl shot you an amused look. “Yer the one that actually did it. I wasn’t gonna tell ‘em the whole thing…”

The laughter between the two of you died down and the silence was suddenly tense and thick between you. “Hey, will you tell me,” you paused and gestured to your own cheek and eyebrow, “how you got this scar?”

“Oh—” Daryl shook his hair back out of his eyes and put a hand up to it. “It’s stupid. Ain’t really nothin’.”

Your brow furrowed. “Doesn’t look like nothing,” you said.

He sat up straighter on the couch and nodded. “Nah, it’s dumb more than anythin’. I was livin’ way out—"

“—way out?” you interrupted him.

“Yeah. Way out of Alexandria,” he drawled, avoiding your eyes, consciously or otherwise because of the nearness of the topic to Leah... “It was after Rick—ya know…”

“Oh,” you said, nodding. “Maggie mentioned something about that but there was so much to cover we never circled back to it. “You were looking for him.”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah. Anyway… I got in a tight spot with some walkers in this old house and—damn metal shelving came down right on my head. One of the shelves, I think, got me in the face. Split it right open.”

Your brow furrowed. “Ouch,” you said, affecting a wince. “Jesus. That must have been a headache. Not to mention a good bruise.”

“Told ya it ain’t a good story,” Daryl drawled.

“Well, you could have lied and dressed it up a bit. Though I have a feeling you have plenty of badass stories on your own without inventing them. And plenty of scars that came with them.”

Daryl gulped and nodded again. He was quite sure it was the same for you. “Uhh—ya said somethin’ ‘bout a book?”

“Oh—right! Yeah. Hang on.” You got up and went to your small pack which was still sitting by the door to the garage. You pulled out a leatherbound book that looked like it had seen many travels. The cover was well-worn and the pages looked somewhat wrinkled from moisture. You came to sit on the couch again, but this time you sunk down right next to Daryl. You held it out to him. “I don’t know what to call it really. A journal? I don’t know.”

He took it from you with curiosity and started unwrapping the leather cord wrapped securely around it to keep it closed. The leather was soft and supple under his fingers. He cracked the spine open and looked at the first page. It was blank except for your name, printed in your distinctive hand, in the middle of the page. He thumbed through a few more pages and they were all covered in your writing.

“The first section isn’t light reading,” you warned him, watching his blue eyes traveling over the pages. “I started it just after we got separated. I think I just needed somewhere to go with all the—all the bullshit in my head,” you laughed dryly. “But that’s not what I wanted to show you. Here.” You flipped to a later section and you stopped at a page that had a Polaroid picture taped to it. It was DJ—but as a still slightly lanky infant. You smiled as Daryl’s thumb smoothed over the white border with your handwriting on it, denoting the date and location. “I didn’t have the camera until he was a few weeks old.” You reached over him and flipped to the next spread. There was a picture of you with him in your arms, looking exhausted but happy. You looked almost exactly the way he remembered you when the two of you had lost each other.

Daryl shook his head a little, fighting an upwelling of emotion that threatened to swamp him like a bubble of cold water rising from some trench in the ocean. “He was so tiny,” he said. Baby DJ had a small shock of dark hair just on the top of his head. Daryl smiled and let out a little laugh. “I dig the hair,” he said, tilting his head slightly toward you, but not tearing his eyes away from the photo. His thumb moved aimlessly to touch the white border again, as if he was hoping to somehow reach himself into the scene and really be there.

You smiled at the softness on Daryl’s face and glanced back at the book open on his lap. “Yeah. I called him Alfalfa until he was about two. Took that long for the rest of it to grow out and match. And then he had these little curls in the back—unbelievably cute. I never wanted to cut his hair.”

Daryl’s heart was soaring just seeing the photos, but it was soaring with an ache in it that couldn’t be cured—it was the ache of lost time, of missing out on incredibly precious moments he couldn’t get back. Maybe you sensed something in him, because you shifted a little closer on the couch and Daryl glanced over at you, suddenly realizing how close your face was to his, only a mere five or six inches away. His blue eyes flickered down to your lips and back up to study the hues in your irises. But you ducked your head the next moment and turned your attention back to the little book even as Daryl’s heart was still racing.

“This has everything in it,” you said. Your voice was low and soft and he found it calming in a way nothing else ever calmed him. Daryl shot you a questioning glance. “Well—not everything, but I wrote summaries in it through the seasons of our life, me and DJ. You’ll find the most important things in there along with the few photos I have, more when he was little because they just change so fast then. But—I found myself writing a lot of it to—to you,” you said. Daryl looked over at you in surprise. “I don’t know why, but a lot of it came out as if I was writing you letters. I don’t know if I really thought you’d ever get to read them or if I just hoped you would but—I wanted you to know our son and our life apart I guess.” Daryl’s blue eyes flickered between yours again. He was overwhelmed at that. “I always wanted to put something else on the first page,” you said with a soft smile. “Um—remember at the prison—Glenn and Maggie had that Polaroid camera? And we borrowed it and took that—"

“—picture in bed that day,” Daryl finished. “When it was rainin’ outside and we’d spent all day hidin’ from it and everythin’ else together.” You nodded. “Yeah. I remember… How the hell could I ever forget that?” His deep voice with that hint of gravel sent goosebumps rising up on your skin.

You sighed and subconsciously bit your bottom lip. Daryl looked at the dark fray of your lashes fanned out toward your cheeks. “I wonder what happened to that picture. God, I wished I had it in my pack when—in Atlanta, I mean. I had this weird fear that I was going to forget your face, like all the horrible shit I kept seeing, all the bad shit that kept happening, it was going to just… push everything good out of my head.” You paused briefly and swallowed down the lump that had suddenly formed in your throat. “But I hope it was just lost and… went into the ether somewhere. Unseen by anyone else but us,” you said, catching his eyes again, managing a sad sort of smile. There was a queer expression on his face. You cocked your head. “What?”

Daryl gulped and cleared his throat. “Ain’t nobody else that’s seen it, but it ain’t in the ether somewhere,” he drawled. Your eyes widened in amazement and there was a stunned silence.

“You—you still have it?” you asked in disbelief.

He bit his bottom lip and nudged his nose up in a nod. “Yeah. It was in your pack back at the church and—s’the only picture I had of ya.” Your wide eyes were a bit glassy.

Your teary smile widened. “Can I see it?”

Daryl nodded again and then handed you back the book, rising to his feet. You expected him to go somewhere to retrieve it but instead he simply slipped off his vest and then reached for his knife in its sheath on the side table.

“What are you doing?” He’d pulled his knife out and was arranging his vest on the coffee table in front of the couch.

He spared you a glance and shrugged. “I—I was worried ‘bout losin’ it somehow, with all the shit that happens out there, ya know.” He skillfully slit open a small seam in the lining on the left side of his vest and quickly pulled out a little plastic bag with the distinctive shape of a Polaroid picture in it. He looked at it for a long moment and then held it out to you.

Instead of looking at the picture right away, you were staring at him with a furrowed brow and slightly wide, soft eyes. “You sewed it into the lining of your vest?” He only ducked his head and nodded. It wasn’t lost on you that it had been in the left side near the chest—closest to his heart. “Daryl Dixon…” you said softly, shaking your head, your eyes brimming with tears now again.

He’d never showed it to anyone—never even told anyone he had it. Not even Rick or Carol. But there was a reason he always wore his vest everywhere, a reason he was so protective of it, why it had been the one thing that was the most unbearable to have taken from him by the Saviors—even over his crossbow. The idea of Dwight wearing that vest around with that picture of you and him in it, his only photo of you, a special and intimate moment captured when things had been so good and had felt like they were going to be that way indefinitely, it was almost too much to cope with.

Finally, you looked down at the photo. It was exactly as you remembered it, except that you and he seemed even younger than you had pictured in your mind. You were lying in bed next to each other, tucked under the covers. You were curled into him with his arm under you, your hand resting on his chest, looking up at the camera with content and blissed out, sleepy smiles. “Feels like a lifetime ago and yet—like just yesterday.”

“Yeah,” Daryl drawled, staring down at his hands, which were now fiddling with his knife anxiously. You held it back out to him and he shot you a furtive glance. “Nah. Maybe ya should keep it now. I’ve had it the last ten years. Ya can add it to the book where ya wanted it.”

You shook your head. “No. I think you should put it right back where you had it. Unless you think it doesn’t belong there anymore.”

He didn’t hesitate to take it back from you and he took another good long look at it, biting his bottom lip thoughtfully, before he slipped it right back into the lining, and you felt your heart skip a beat at that.

“I can sew that for you in the morning,” you said. “I didn’t realize my request was going to have you cutting a hole in your vest.”

“Nah, s’alrigh’. I been sewin’ it closed again for ten years. I’ve got it down to a science,” he drawled with a dry laugh. Electricity seemed to materialize between the two of you again as he glanced back at you—the air was swollen with it like the atmosphere before a lightning strike.

You felt suddenly warm and tore your eyes away from his. Chicken, you thought. “You can hang onto that book for a while if you want. It’ll catch you up faster and—you can at least see DJ grow up in a way. A lot of it is written to you anyway…”

Daryl nodded and accepted it from you again. “Yeah…” He nervously scratched at a non-existent itch on the back of his head. “I ain’t got anythin’ like this for ya. Wish I did. Just got a long line of memories, some foggier than others.”

“That’s okay. I’ll just pepper you with questions,” you said, jest in your voice. He laughed and nodded.

His mind turned to more practical matters, perhaps as a distraction for the way he was feeling, like he was barely managing to balance on one foot at the end of a precipice, about to tumble over if he just let himself tilt forward... He badly wanted to reach for you, but you had just gotten here, weren’t even settled… and some part of him needed to tell you about Leah before—before anything happened. If anything ever would happen? He was wracked with self-doubt. But if he didn’t tell you about Leah, if something could happen between you and him, it wouldn’t feel… honest? Daryl slipped away from those thoughts and focused on how to keep his family afloat. “I was thinkin’, we need supplies in a big way, especially with bringin’ ya’ll in. We ain’t got any backstock or livestock or crops since the Whisperers and the horde trashed everythin’. Probably need to make a run tomorrow and not come back until I’ve got somethin’.”

Your brow furrowed again with concern. “Okay. Yeah. Hey—I’m in,” you said, gently touching him on the arm. “But don’t forget—DJ wants a bike ride,” you said with a smile.

“Can’t forget that,” Daryl drawled. There was a beat and both of you were searching for something else to say when a door opened and soft footsteps came padding down the hall. RJ appeared in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. Daryl was immediately on his feet, your book still clasped in his hand. “Hey, bud. Ya alrigh’?”

RJ shook his head. “I had a bad dream about Mom,” he said.

“Aww, no… Hey—it’s alrigh’. S’just a dream, but I know that can be real scary. Why I don’t I come help ya get back to sleep?” RJ nodded and Daryl shot you a look over his shoulder. You smiled at him and gave him a nod.

“I’m gonna head to bed too,” you said. “Hope you have only good dreams now, RJ.” The two of them disappeared down the hall and you extinguished all the lights except for a battery-powered lantern by Daryl’s vest which you left on dimly.

Settling into the soft bed next to DJ, gently kissing his cheek and stroking his hair away from his face, you were finally able to close your eyes and let yourself sink deeply down into slumber in a way you hadn’t since your home had fallen.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You awoke early the next morning and the house was still silent and dark. The sun was not yet high enough above the horizon to touch Alexandria as you peered out the window at the still streets. DJ was deeply asleep and you pulled on the only change of clothes you had, much cleaner than what you had been wearing, and moved through the house silently. You were surprised to see, when you reached the doorway into the living area, that Daryl was asleep on the couch. Your journal was beneath one of his hands, dropped down onto his chest as if he’d fallen asleep reading it. On the coffee table beside him, the photo of you and him that you’d taken at the prison was out again from its safe place in his vest, lying face up on top of the worn leather. You felt a stirring in your heart as you looked at him and a profound desire to wake him up so you could look into his bright blue eyes and tell him—tell him everything that wanted to burst out of you. Instead, you took one last long look and tried to memorize the scene, before letting yourself out quietly through the front door.

You walked around the interior of the wall and passed a couple people on guard at the section that was being repaired. Otherwise, you saw no one until you paused in front of a large building that was built out of lumber that still looked fairly new. Then, you heard soft footsteps behind you and your hand strayed to the handle of your knife in its sheath as you spun around.

“Whoa! Sorry,” chuckled the man in front of you. He was tall and lean with a salt and pepper beard and held his hands up in a gesture of goodwill. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

You swallowed the tightness in your throat down and breathed a small sigh of relief, but your hand stayed on your knife. He eyed it and a small smirk tugged at his lips.

He pointed to it. “You were out there a while,” he said. It wasn’t a question. “Anybody with reflexes like that has sure as shit been in the shit.”

You still didn’t say anything and eyed him warily. He seemed at ease despite your stoic reception of him.

“I, uhh—I saw you come in yesterday with the rest of the new crew,” he explained. “Planning to stick around? I know it doesn’t look like much but—” he shrugged, glancing around at the construction at the wall and the half-ruined buildings. “—this place ain’t bad.”

Your brow furrowed and you stared at him. “Who the hell are you?” you finally asked.

“Uhh—” he shifted his weight a little anxiously and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Knew we’d get to that eventually,” he said with a wry laugh. He smoothed a hand over his short hair and for the first time seemed uncomfortable. “I’m Negan…”

You nodded. “Okay. Negan.” He was watching you carefully as if to read your reaction but your expression was blank, perhaps purposefully so. It wasn’t lost on him that you’d walked in with Maggie and the rest of her people. He could only assume that his name had meaning for you.

“I just—I saw you had a kiddo with you,” he said, ducking his eyes from you for the first time and replacing his other hand in his pocket. “Thought maybe it would help to know that this is—this is actually a good place.” He hazarded another glance up at you but you were still unreadable. Your hand was still on the handle of your knife too.

“If I thought otherwise, do you think I’d still be here?” you replied.

He chuckled nervously and nodded. “Fair point.” He hesitated for a moment, at a loss of where to go next with this failure of a conversation. “So, do you—”

“I know who are you, Negan.” The muscle in your jaw tensed as his hazel eyes, now narrowed almost in a wince, met yours. “I know what you did. Not all of it, yet, but enough.”

“Yeah…” He hung his head again, his shoulders seeming to sag on his frame.

“And that kid?” you went on. “My son. His name is DJ. It’s for Daryl Jr,” you said pointedly. Negan’s eyes shot back up to yours immediately and went slightly wide.

“Ah, shit,” he swore under his breath. “Look, I was just tryin’ to have a conversation. I’m—I—,” he said. Then he paused again and glanced back up at you. “Daryl has a kid? He’s got a kid that old? How the hell did—” His curiosity suddenly overwhelmed his shame about his past and his concern that the archer would hear he’d been sniffing around you.

Your eyes narrowed dangerously. “You think I’m going to explain our story to you? I don’t even know you, and the bits I do know—” you cocked your head, “—not a fan. So, just do me a favor and stay the hell away from DJ, and from Hershel, and from Maggie. If you don’t, I’ll be the one to kill you. Not her. Deal?”

He nodded. “Yep… Deal. Got it.”

You turned and left, heading back to Daryl’s, hoping you’d gotten your point across well enough. Maggie had of course told you what had happened at the line-up, how she’d lost Glenn, and what the Saviors had done to the communities and the war. She had also told you that Daryl had been taken prisoner, though she didn’t know any details about what that had been like for him. She said he never spoke about it to anyone, except maybe to Carol. Maybe Negan was different now. Some of your old family seemed to believe he was, but some things were unforgivable in your mind…

When you quietly entered the house again, Daryl was awake and softly moving around in the little kitchen. He turned when he sensed you come in to the room. “Hey,” he greeted you. “Everythin’ alrigh’? I thought ya were still sleepin’,” he drawled.

“Yeah, all good. Just took a walk when I woke up,” you explained. “I, uhh… I met Negan,” you said, carefully watching his expression. His face immediately darkened.

“The hell was he doin’?” Daryl growled.

“I don’t know. He must have been doing the same thing I was, I guess. Taking an early morning walk?”

Daryl’s eyes were still narrowed and he felt a swell of protective anger. “The hell did he say? Look, if he was botherin’ ya, just tell me and I’ll deal with it. I’ve been lookin’ for an excuse to punch him out as long as I can remember.” “It was—it was fine, Daryl. He came over to introduce himself or something. Said he saw us come in yesterday and wanted to tell me Alexandria was a good place… because he saw DJ with me.”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “I’ll talk to him. Tell him to fuck off,” he said darkly, the muscle in his jaw tensing as he clenched his teeth together. If there was any one person he wanted to stay away from you and DJ, it was Negan Smith.

“It’s okay. I already did,” you said. “I told him if I see him coming near DJ or Hershel or Maggie that I’ll kill him.”

Daryl shook his head and actually let out a small laugh. “I—I shoulda known ya’d already have it taken care of.” He leaned back against the counter behind him, his arms crossed over his chest. It seemed to make the broadness of his shoulders and the tapering of his body to his waist more pronounced and you felt a wash of heat in your chest.

“Yeah, it’s alright… He knows about DJ. I wanted to make that clear.”

Daryl nodded. “Okay.” He sighed heavily. “He ain’t—he ain’t like he was. But I still dun trust him all the way. And I definitely dun fuckin’ like him,” he growled.

You nodded. “It doesn’t change what he did, though, even if he isn’t the same now as he was.” Daryl ducked your gaze and nodded, now anxiously shifting his weight from one hip to the other.

“No. It fuckin’ doesn’t.”

You sighed. “Sooo… How far did you get in that book of mine last night?”

Daryl was about to answer you, suddenly realizing of course that you must have seen him passed out on the couch when you left this morning. But suddenly Dog came barreling into the room, quickly followed by a smiling RJ and Judith. It wasn’t long before DJ was also up and about, probably awakened by the noise you all were making in the kitchen. Soon you were heating up the last little bit of stew from the night before on the stove for the kids, while Daryl was setting the table. You couldn’t stop glancing over your shoulder at him and and smiling because he was smiling and because after so long he was made real in front of you, and he was different but the same too. As you were sure you were. After the makeshift breakfast, Daryl and Judith washed the dishes together while you and DJ helped dry. It was positively domestic. You felt as if you’d stepped through a magic door into a different dimension. Finally, Daryl turned to DJ and smiled at him.

“Well, what d’ya think ‘bout takin’ a ride on that bike I got?” he asked him. “As long as yer mom is still good with it. We can see if there are any rabbits out there, maybe set some new snares—get some dinner for everybody.”

DJ glanced over at you with a pleading smile on his face and you grinned. “Of course. You’ve got a helmet for him?” Daryl nodded. “Good. Alright.” You bent down to his eye-level and put your hands on his shoulders. “You stick right with him, okay? And you do whatever he says if there’s any trouble.”

“I know. I will,” DJ promised you. You kissed the top of his head and met Daryl’s blue eyes.

“We won’t be gone too long. Ya mind watchin’ Jude and RJ?” Daryl asked, tilting his head toward the living room where they were coloring on some scraps of paper with Dog laying down as if on guard.

“I don’t mind. We’ll pay Carol a visit and see what we can do to help around here,” you said.

Daryl nodded. “Alrigh’. We’ll only be a couple hours and then—uhh, if yer still up for it, you and I can head back out. We’ll have to see if Maggie and maybe Rosita and Gabe can watch the kids.”

You nodded again. “Yeah. I can swing by and see.”

DJ came running back out with his small pack on and his bow in hand, absolutely grinning from ear to ear. His knife was in its little sheath on his belt too.

Daryl ruffled his hair with light in his eyes that seemed entirely new. “Alrigh’, boss. You and me. Let’s do it. See if we can get yer mom some dinner.” He headed toward the door and then looked back at you as you called a last goodbye.

“Be careful,” you said.

Daryl nudged his nose up in a nod. “Hey—I ain’t gonna let anythin’ happen to him.”

You smiled and nodded. “I know.”

He gave you a long look, as if he was memorizing the sight of you. Maybe he was. “We’ll see ya later.”

“I know that, too. Good luck.” And with that, they were into the garage and you soon heard the roar of Daryl’s bike droning into the distance.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl x y/n #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles #protective!daryl

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makethosenarratorsfight · 1 year

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UNRELIABLE NARRATORS; SIDE C

Dr. John Watson Propaganda:

He literally admits that he changes his stories. "One day the true stories may be told"? Do I need to say more?

Gideon Nav Propaganda:

(Spoilers for Ht9) She just. Fully ignores most of the magic plot happening around her in the first boom to be a dyke. In the second book it’s even less reliable and it’s fully fucking insane. It’s first person but she’s telling YOU (harrow) what is happening and it’s impossible to decipher. The appearance and personality of every character is fully morphed by Gideon’s mean dykishness.

MASSIVE spoilers. Like even mentioning that this is a thing is a huge fucking spoiler. I normally don’t care about spoilers that much but I legitimately feel awful for anyone with even a passing interest in reading these books who has this spoiled for them. Anyway. Yeah turns out the second-person narration is actually a first-person narration by the dead girl living in Harrow’s head whose death traumatized Harrow (and the entire fandom) so badly that she literally lobotomized herself to forget it and give Gideon a chance at not having her soul digested.

constantly adds her own commentary, does not pay attention to the interesting moving parts of the plot bc she's too busy looking at pretty girls, cannot be trusted to read her own intentions correctly never mind anyone else's. I love her dearly

she just doesn’t notice or doesn’t give a shit about a ton of plot-essential information. Harrow and Palamedes are talking about a necromantic theorem that would blow open the entire story if we could hear them? You can instantly feel Gideon’s eyes glaze over and her mind wander to the nearest available hot girl, and our attention goes with her. It’s handled so smoothly that you might not even notice it happening until a second or third read.

More Propaganda under cut!

Gideon Nav is all but useless as a narrator, and we love her for it. So first of all, she knows absolutely nothing. She grew up under a rock. Almost literally. When the plot is happening near her, she almost never tells us about it. Politics, history, and the magic system are boring. Let her know when there's something she can FIGHT. She also has very selective emphasis and focus that can change a scene completely without ever actually lying. She can tell the same story—to us, in her third-person narration as a factual recounting—and in one version the incident will be a schoolyard scuffle, while a later telling will reveal it to have been a near-homicide. She'll confidently interpret other character's motivations and emotions, only to later be proven wrong. But the thing that makes her REALLY unreliable? She lies to HERSELF constantly. She will tell us in her narration that she doesn't give a shit where someone disappeared to, and then spend the whole day searching for them. She'll say she hates someone, when. Well....

okay so i am actually going to do one segment about her own book and one about harrow’s so many apologies and also many spoilers ahead okay? okay so in gideon the ninth it’s a well known thing that she’s an unreliable narrator on two fronts: she lies to herself and therefore us about how she’s feeling and what she’s thinking, and also she isn’t paying attention to the plot at all. the only things she pays any attention to are hot girls, swords, and hot girls with swords. at one point she watches their only way out be sealed off and is so bored about it that she goes to sleep watching it happen, taking absolutely no note of “oh hey they’re trapping us here”. later someone asks IN FRONT OF HER “hey where did all our shuttles go” and shes like “😌😌😌😌😌😌😌😌😌” and still does not make the connection. babygirl. but THEN!!!!! in HARROW the ninth (MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD) gideon is the narrator the ENTIRE TIME (except for the revised canaan house parts) and not only does she editorialize, she also straight up lies about events and motivations! partially justified by her being inside harrow’s head, but like. babygirl. beloved. the interjections of “holy fuck” and “pommel” and othersuch things is so important to my mental health and wellbeing. thank you. thank you for lying to us so so much.

#gideon nav #gideon the ninth #the locked tomb #dr john watson #john watson #watson #sherlock holmes #unreliable narrator battle #unreliable narrators #polls #side c

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ladytauria · 6 months

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Jaytimkon high School fic???? Maybe with popular skater boy Tim 🥺🥺🥺

Sending love and inspo!!!

i adore hs aus xD i did reference skater tim, though maybe not the popular part so much ^^;

i decided to go established timkon & pre-jaytimkon for this one~ i hope you like it!! thank u sm for the prompt <3

>> AO3 <<

“Oh my god, Tim. Just ask him out already.” Kon hisses, startling Tim out of his thoughts.

Or. Well.

He wasn’t really thinking so much as he was stealing glances across the library, where Jason has his nose buried in a book. He always does. Even at lunch, Jason doesn’t really sit with anyone; just picks an out of the way table to read while he eats.

It’s cute. Especially when he gets really into it, and forgets he’s in public; mouthing the words, making faces, even uttering soft noises.

Tim would feel bad about sneaking glances if he didn’t know Kon’s been doing the exact same thing.

“I— The whole school knows we’re dating, Kon.”

“I’ll go with you.” Kon shrugs, twirling a pencil between his fingers. “So he knows it’s chill.”

Tim glares. “Then why can’t you ask him out?” he hisses. Tim’s not the only one crushing, here. Why does he have to be the one to ask?

Kon rolls his eyes. “Because I asked you out,” he says, like that has any bearing on anything whatsoever. He pauses, then adds, “Also, you liked him first.”

“Yeah, which means you have experience.” Tim chooses to ignore the second part.

“Also means you’re in desperate need of some.” Kon rolls his eyes. Tim pouts at him, but Kon stares back at him, unimpressed. “Dude. You are like… one more longing sigh away from leaving him anonymous love letters. Just ask him out.”

Huh.

Love letters… Tim hadn’t thought about that angle. Jason’s social media presence is pretty sparse, except for a book blog he updates two or three times a week. Hadn’t Jason said something about the secret admirer trope in romance a bit ago? But was it positive or negative…? Hm.

“Oh my god. Babe.” Kon put his face in his hands. “That’s not a suggestion. Please don’t make me call Cassie.”

Tim stills. If Kon calls Cassie, it’s really only a matter of time before Cissie and Bart get involved. And while it’s possible they could take Tim’s side— Tim doesn’t want to listen to it.

“We could sign the letter?” he offers anyway.

“Tim.”

Ah. Kon’s no-bullshit tone has entered the chat.

Fair enough. Tim would probably end up spending weeks just trying to compose the damn thing before giving up entirely. Fine. Okay. Tim can wing it. He’s great at that.

He drags his hands down his face. “Okay. Fine," he says. "I can do that."

Kon pats his arm. “You’ve got this, babe.”

Tim appreciates Kon’s confidence, even if he doesn’t share it.

It takes Kon’s foot nudging his ankle for him to stand. The space between their tables seems insurmountable, like Jason might as well be separated from him by an ocean. Tim looks back at Kon.

Kon, again, looks unimpressed. The raised brow and crossed arms are very Ma Kent. Tim almost tells him so, but thinks better of it. Instead, he turns.

Okay. Ask Jason out. Tim can do that. He’s done scarier. Asking a cute guy out is nothing compared to getting his ass kicked at the skate park. Besides, he knows Jason. He’s the only reason Tim passed English last trimester, after all, and he was… surprisingly patient about it. Well. It was a little rough at first, but. Then something shifted, and it got easier, and Tim. He’d thought he’d liked Jason before, but actually getting to talk to him—

Well.

Maybe Kon had a point about his pining.

At least if Jason rejects him, he'll be nice about it.

The insurmountable gulf between them is surmounted in but a few measly seconds—just barely long enough for Tim to get his bearings. His heart is still beating a touch too fast.

Jason looks up from his book. “Can I help you?” Tim can’t help but think he looks like a disgruntled cat. It’s cute. His expression shifts, a little, when he realizes it’s Tim. “Oh. Hey, Timmers. Need somethin’?”

Now or never. “Yeah,” he says. He grips the back of an empty chair, just to have something to do with his hands. “Do— Kon and I were planning on getting ice cream after school today. We were… wondering if you wanted to come?”

Confusion creases Jason’s brow. “That… I wouldn’t want to intrude on your date,” he says slowly.

“You wouldn’t be,” Tim says, immediately. “You— We want you there.” He pauses, and then, to clarify, adds, “On the date. ‘Cause. It’ll still be a date, if, um. If you’re okay with that.”

Jason looks at Tim. Then he looks over at Kon, who winks.

Huh.

Tim’s never seen anyone turn that shade of red before. The color paints all the way down Jason’s neck, and under the collar of his uniform. “I—“ His tongue darts out, wetting his lips. He looks nervous. Tim can relate.

He pulls the chair out with his foot, sitting. “I know it’s probably kind of sudden,” he says. “Um. You can say no, if you want to. And—um. If you need more time to think about it, that’s okay too. We can go out another day.” He pauses, the wheels of his mind spinning. “It’s not a trick, either. I promise.”

He almost holds out his pinkie, because he’s embarrassing like that, but. He manages to stop himself.

Jason’s mouth works a couple more times before he finally manages, “I’d like— Ice cream sounds good.”

Tim sinks back into his seat. His cheeks ache from his grin—he’s pretty sure he looks like an idiot, but. He doesn’t really care. “Cool,” he says.

Jason smiles back. “Cool,” he repeats, softly.

#jaytimkon #konjaytim #timjaykon #cheetahleopard #asks and answers #tauriawritesfanfic #i wrote the first part of this fic the night you sent it~#and then after that i had a few more possible ideas for hs aus xD #but i decided to keep going with this one~#jason reading at the lunch table is inspired by the fact that i used to do the same thing #i didnt have the same lunch block as my friends (well. friend. i didn't have a lot of school friends lol) so #ALSO now im thinking about jaytim and/or jaytimkon but where they actually go the anonymous love letter route...

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aurorawest · 9 months

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Reading update

A Psalm for the Wild-Built by Becky Chambers - 3.75/5 stars

I hate myself a little bit for using this word to describe this book, but it's a meditation on modern (western) culture, the drumbeat of living a purposeful life, and, imo, the millennial condition.

It also, separately from that, made me think of the song 'New Constellations' by Ryn Weaver: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=13EX7qGdUGI

The Secret Lives of Country Gentlemen by KJ Charles - 5/5 stars

This book features Gareth Inglis, a member of the gentry whose father shipped him off to his uncle when his mother died. Gareth never saw or heard from his father (who remarried and had another child) again, and no one knew he existed because his father was a piece of human garbage. Which meant I couldn't stop thinking about my former father-in-law, who had two sons from his first marriage whom he, as far as I could tell, never had any contact with after remarrying and having another child. Life imitates art?

Anyway, it's KJ Charles, so you pretty much can't go wrong. I saw someone refer to this as enemies-to-lovers and realized my toxic trait is railing against people who want to apply enemies-to-lovers to everything. Spoiler alert, this is not enemies-to-lovers. But it is lovely, and includes Gareth and Joss Doomsday (a smuggler) bonding over beetles.

The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi by SA Chakraborty - 4.5/5 stars

It was no Daevabad Trilogy, but then again, I remember finishing City of Brass and being like, yeah, it was fine, I'll probably pick up the sequel at some point. It wasn't until Kingdom of Copper that I grew to really love the series, so I'm hoping the same happens with this. This book was a lot of fun, and the fact that all the characters were middle-aged was pretty delightful. I'm definitely excited to see where this series goes.

The Long Run by James Acker - 5/5 stars

Excellent YA book about two lonely jocks in New Jersey.

Feel the Fire by Annabeth Albert - 3.75/5 stars

His Accidental Cowboy by AM Arthur - 4/5 stars

Brida by Paul Coelho - 1/5 stars

One of the reviews for this book on Storygraph says it 'aged like milk' and I can't put it better than that. This is a soul mate AU where souls undergo cell division, essentially, and your soul mate is from your same base soul from before the soul split in half. Okay, great. Oh but wait, the soul always divides into male and female. And your soul mate is always someone of the opposite sex, even though that doesn't make sense because as souls divide again and again, that means there are a lot of people out there who came from the same original soul as you. Also, witchcraft? Also also, even though the book is called Brida and is ostensibly about the title character, her whole journey was really just to serve the unnamed male character, the Magus. This isn't implicit either, it's completely explicit. At the end it's like, 'sometimes young women come along to show men the way' (I'm paraphrasing but...not much).

This went straight to my give away pile, and I hated it so much that the rest of my Coelho books joined it (except The Alchemist).

Enlightened by Joanna Chambers - 5/5 stars

Or, For The Love Of God Please Give David Lauriston And Murdo Balfour A Break, And Preferably A Happy Ending.

They got one, btw.

Song of Silver, Flame Like Night by Amélie Wen Zhao - DNF

Honestly, the Mad Libs YA title should have warned me off of this one, but I always give my Illumicrate books a try. Cartoonish villains and protagonists I find myself liking less the more we get to know them. The prose is quite good but not enough to make up for the character deficiencies.

Solomon's Crown by Natasha Siegel - 5/5 stars

Blurbed by no less than Tamora Pierce (Song of the Lioness supremacy!), Rainbow Rowell, Freya Marske, and CS Pacat. Did I go into this book with insanely high expectations? Yes. Did it mostly meet them? Yes! If you're a Captive Prince fan, this one's for you.

Siegel tells us up front, before the book even starts, that it's a romance and not historically accurate. So don't go into this expecting a historically accurate love story between King Richard of England and King Philip of France. It is, however, a gorgeous romance. The world-building is top notch. Even if it's not totally accurate to the High Middle Ages, it feels accurate, if that makes sense? Siegel really captures the feeling of being in a different world. Lush writing, amazing sexual/romantic tension, lovely sad boys. Highly, highly recommend.

Daniel Cabot Puts Down Roots by Cat Sebastian - 4.75/5 stars

I docked .25 stars because it bugged me that they didn't move in together at the end. Idk, just felt too 'look, I'm subverting romance conventions!' Still good, obviously.

Like Real People Do by EL Massey - 4/5 stars

A very wholesome and low stakes hockey romance. I found myself often thinking that the interactions of the men on the hockey teams seemed unrealistic, but it was charming and sweet enough that I didn't care.

The book reads like fanfiction, which is because it was fanfiction—but it's in a mostly good way, not a bad way (*cough* All The Way Happy *cough*). Apparently the original version was Check, Please! fanfiction, which I am vaguely familiar with as a thing that exists. Apparently it's a web comic? Anyway, I enjoyed the book enough to pick up the sequel.

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thequeenofmyownscreen · 7 months

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Yesterday night was our last session of my first D&D campaign ever

Last night we drank merrily, saying goodbye (for now) to the 4 adventurers in my first D&D campaign ever, for which I was the DM (1st time ever also). I feel very happy and a little sad also, so I thought I could write it all up here - mostly for me, and for you reading if that interests you.

It was more of a Wrap-up session, we didn't play per se, but I wanted to recap the last scenes, and give the floor to my players to ask some questions and discuss what we've been doing. It was a good idea, I think, it went great, we had time to reminisce and remember the beginnings, the roads not taken and the what-ifs, the monsters and the battles they were traumatized by, and what their characters would do now.

Flashbacks and sneak peeks and more thoughts under the cut

When I started to watch Critical Role, I had no idea what D&D was. All I heard were mentions of it in media (tv shows, mostly). It intrigued me more and more, and I started to look at the rules, and the books published, etc. And then one day on an impulse, I bought the Starter Set : Lost Mine of Phandelver, and sent a message to my sister and some friends, asking if they were interested to see what it was about with me.

In April 2021, with my sister and 3 friends, 4 players in total, we created their characters, and we started truly playing in May 2021. At first, we played only once a month, in person, because Roll20 is awesome for battles but not much for anything else (personal opinion). Plus we were going out again after the pandemic, it felt nice. Then in June 2022, one of my friends and players decided to leave, and we recruited another friend at the same time, so I still had 4 players to manage through and through. They were all pretty much novices like me (only 1 had played before), and so we all learned together during the years. In multiple ways ! small but important things like : who's taking care of the scheduling, who's time is it to host and what food & drink will we bring, who has many dice and can lend them, how can we figure the characters without buying expensive minis (we ended up using fèves, which is a very French thing I will explain now : at the beginning of the year, you gather your friends or colleagues or family or whatever to eat the galette des rois, literally cake of the kings, and whether you make it or bought it, there is always inside 1 very small porcelain figurine, and the person finding it gets to be King/Queen for the day. Yeah it's the same country who decapitated the last king, don't ask. Anyway sometimes people collect the small porcelain figurines, and then their grandchildren sell the collection, and we ended up with a lot for practically nothing.).

In late 2022 and throughout 2023, we decided to try and play more, and managed - with a few exceptions - to play twice a month, which we found was a good rhythm : for me, to not have too much prep work, and for my players, to not forget everything that happened last time. In the meantime, another friend of mine with whom I am having lunch at work with very regularly, got used to hear me talking about "the shit my players did last night" and was very interested in following this as a story ; she asked questions, and gave me a space to think, and even ended giving advice and suggestions ! I'm naming her my unofficial co-DM now. It was nice to have someone know all the twists and the structure of the story, and to exchange ideas and jokes.

One thing I was very happy to do, and was very happy when my players talked about it saying I did a good job : PROPS ! The adventure as written has a few examples of message of hiring mercenaries, strange letters sent by a mysterious figure, etc etc. For one, I took time to write in ink (in my teenage years I was obsessed by calligraphy and I still have a quill), and for another I passed the paper in coffee and tea and then dried it to give it an ancient look. Props like this costs nothing but it's awesome.

During 2022 and 2023, 2 of my players had moved far away, but we managed to set up remote video calls for them, while us 3 others gathered 'round the table, and we even had an elaborate if precarious system to film the map during battles (pictured down). And yes for the final dungeon, I printed the map in extra-large, and ended using the wall to show the progress in exploring !

I won't recap all of the story, it doesn't matter in the end, everyone who's ever played knows that you can do an adventure 30 times and it will end up in 30 different stories. What's interesting was that the Lost Mine of Phandelver is described as "a perfect campaign to start playing" : that I agree with ; but that doesn't mean it does not need work. Thankfully the Internet is awesome, and since it's the most played adventure of 5E, a LOT of people have advices, do nots and dos, stories of their own campaigns, useful links and tools, etc. 1st lesson : if it exists already, use that shit. Use it like the world is ending tomorrow. At the start, I was doing this on my own volition, and prepping way too much, while being scared to change things. Then I was inspired reading reddits posts (yes, it happens), and seeing videos, and I started adding more details of my own - or stuff I borrowed from others Internet strangers. The paradox was that I was getting more comfortable while prepping less, because... I got the hang of it, I think it's what happened !

I still have some frustrations, some I shared last night with my players : easier-than-expected batles for my players (the 1st was a conscious act of mercy, and the battle ended way too quickly of course ; the 2nd was I forgot an important detail of the villain's weapon and could not use it, but in the end she had other stuff and the battle was still epic). 2nd lesson : listen to Matt Mercer when he says that as a DM, you really want to use the nuclear option in your opponent’s arsenal on the opening round. If you don't, you will have regrets. My other big frustration is about the player that decided to leave ; we just didn't understand the game on the same-level, but it makes me a little sad that she left before it could click for her, and we could truly talk about it. Especially since last night, I was overjoyed listening to my players talk each about their "epiphany" of how the game works, and how they got comfortable after feeling this truth, and seeing how "you don't win at D&D, the fun is everything else", and I was like yesssssss YOU you get it. 3d lesson : communication ! (it feels like there's still room for improvement, but we have a nice flow going).

All and all, it was an amazing experience, 10/10, will do it again ; and we will ! we agreed we will come back years from now to Faerûn ! and I'll be back as a DM ! and we'll do another written campaign continuing from level 5 (I know there's written options out there). In the meantime though, my sister is leaving our group just for this year, but we're going to keep playing at 4. And this time, I'll be a player !! One of my former players, the amazing @greetingsprogramms will be our DM : she already did 2 one-shots throughout the 2 years, and she did a fantastic job. We're going where a lot of fantasy people have not gone before : spaaaaaaace !

#sorry this post is not well structured #it's more : THOUGHTS ! not in order !#it's also hefty paragraphs but... how can I talk about the thing I did for 2 years and a half without being long. You know ?#the conclusion is : I fucking love D&D and I fucking loved being a DM #critical role adjacent #d&d #dnd stuff #also like :#spoilers for the #Lost Mine of Phandelver #I guess ?#LMOP

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skyfallscotland · 3 months

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Hiii me again! I, too, have questions for the ask game 🍓🦋🥤

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love

I feel like it's redundant to keep saying the same ones, but *whispers* storm in the quiet @justallihere and Political Gain @sarahwyland

But also, in terms of underrated, I just read a little series by Ramzes called The Unseen One, furthering the Sloane/Bodhi agenda (🙏🏼 the lord’s work) and I've also enjoyed The Princess Gambit by JuliLyng so far as well, which is Xaden/OC. Not sure if they have tumblr, but if they're here, hi! 👋🏼

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction?

So I've always been a reader/writer, since as far back as I can remember (maybe three years old?), I'm pretty sure with the knowledge I have now that I'm hyperlexic.

I'm old enough to have been around for dial-up internet, but when I was a preteen, we got broadband (showing my age). This is to say, don't judge my parents too harshly because internet safety was not a thing back then, but...

I found fanfiction because back then, a lot of people either used livejournal or hosted their own sites, so a lot of fansites, had fanfiction. So while looking at Buffy fansites, I stumbled across Buffy fanfiction and realised I could actually read stories!!! so many stories!! where Buffy and Spike got together earlier or things didn't end tragically for them. So yeah, at 11 I was reading very explicit Spuffy smut on the internet 🫢 I had a system set up where I would play The Sims all day or do school project powerpoints, except I was really reading fanfic and I would flick between screens whenever my parents entered the room.

My mum now has KU and reads dark romance every day, so I guess she comes by it honestly (and yes, I did mean it that way around, I was here first!) 😂

Anyway, when I was 12 I started publishing my first few fanfics on ffnet - Lord of the Rings, Pirates of the Caribbean, and a Harry Potter/X-Men Crossover. Each originally written on paper, they were all ridiculously bad, but the latter had people interested enough despite the writing, which encouraged me to try again later down the line with The Vampire Diaries and Jurassic World. I hadn't written for almost ten years and had never finished anything much until last year, by chance, I decided to finally get back into reading actual books and picked up ACOTAR. I finished the series within a week and I was left like?? That's it????

The archive had such a small number of works, I couldn't believe it, so I decided to write my own. I wrote Fury and Siren over the course of three months. I wasn't game to post anything in case I didn't finish it, because I'd never finished anything before. I also put off starting this little book I'd bought 'Fourth Wing' by three months, because I knew I'd be sucked in and would lose the hyperfixation I had, so I forced myself to finish Siren first. And now you all know my life story lol omg I'm so embarrassing to myself 🫠

TLDR: internet

🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately

Honestly, this is kind of angsty, but this last week I’ve thought a lot about male-dominated fandom spaces and how we’re not welcome in them. We, meaning everyone who isn’t a straight, cis, white male. The Formula 1 community on here seems a little better, probably because it’s female-led, but everywhere else I can’t even look at the comments.

To be honest, I’m tired of being told I don’t belong, or that my opinion means nothing because I’m female. I grew up in a motorsport family, my earliest memories are at racetracks, but men on the internet would have you believe I’m only interested because of what the drivers look like. It’s just…tiring. Those fandom spaces have become a no-go zone for me now, because it just isn’t worth it. We live in a time where no matter what you say someone will attack you which is sad in itself, but it’s so much worse when you’re a woman commenting on a “man’s sport”, not to mention endlessly frustrating because they’re too stupid to tell the difference between equity and equality.

🦋 On a larger note, Palestine. I don’t think more than that needs saying. It hurts my heart.

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queengiuliettafirstlady · 11 months

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A vivacious supper

It was an ordinary night at the palace, almost, for once the lights in the dining room of the foreign affair was on with all the members filling the seat around the table, no one was causing a ruckus, strangely so ... until a clear soft voice resonated in the air,

"But if a mermaid eats fish it is cannibalism ?" everyone's attention focused on her, but Chevalier who was too absorbed in reading and munching his food properly to pay her any attention, dissatisfied from his reaction she exclaimed "I kidnapped a man once." his expression shifted from Good for you to I beg your pardon in the span of few second once ascertained the owner of the voice to be anyone but her, feeling suddenly self conscious under his stern gaze she smiled sheepishly at him "I was joking." a sort of relief mixed with what looked like annoyance spread over his features, she was sure he was to resume his previous activity when he felt her gaze still fixated on her, knowing she would have not let him go off her hook until he gave her an answer he sighed softly "Technically half yes half not, because she is both a human and a fish at once and since fish themselves are omnivores I think it wasn't." satisfaction curled her lips as she looked his way "Thank you." he returned to his reading for few minutes when her voice ringed once more in the air

"If a cook is bald he should wear a hairnet anyway ?" he sighed, his wrist slumping gracefully on the table still holding his book, it was bold of him to assume she was done but he really did not expected her to be so feisty the first time they met, "Even though it may seem useless I think he should anyway." his monotone voice and plain answer did not satisfied her, for she did not hesitated to talk back at him, surprising him with her courage "To avoid his non-existent hair from falling into the food ?" "Well to prevent sweat." it was Luke turn to speak, focusing his gaze on her with a lazy smile on his lips, she smiled at him moving her index in his direction. "You got a point." For a while normality fell back into the room, the only noise was the ones of the cutlery on plates and drink poured in the glasses, everyone seemed to enjoy their meal as it should be minding their own business ... until the servants took off the plates from the table, she waited everyone to be out of the room before nonchalantly intruding in the quiet air that followed the dish waiting

"If you cut the leg of a man and then beat him with it I am hitting or kicking him ?" Clavis mirthful laugh resonated in the air as he focused his gaze on her, an accomplice smile curling their lips while a certain desire to wreak funny havoc glimmering in their eyes as they met "More like scaring him out with 'at." Luke frowned looking at her, beginning to question if Clavis has not spread his whimsicality to her too "Figuratively you will be hitting him with his own leg." Nokto laid again the wine glass on the table staring astounded at Chevalier, who was sat on his place at the head of the table with the the same unfazed air as he was discussing the weather, unable to contain a chuckle hearing Clavis answer "Except as you attach it to your own then you are double kicking him." shaking his head he resumed his drinking activity, paying attention to refill his glass properly because as the questions were becoming weirder he would have needed all the strength he could muster to bear the hellcat and his accomplices both sitting at the same table.

"Do fish get thirsty ?" "I suppose so." Nokto answered, racking his brain to find a proper answer "But like if they live in the water they could not get thirst yeah ?" it was Luke turn to inquire and he wondered if this was not some thing in the air that got everyone so weird all of sudden, maybe some thing imported from Jade or from another country but it seemed this was not the case seeing how calm Chevalier looked, as always, answering her question with promptness that took him aback coming from hi

"How do they drink ?" "Through their mouth when they open to eat." she nodded deep in thought, he hoped the rich dessert would have been to her taste enough to make her forget her question and he seemed to be right ... for a while anyway, until he chuckled hiding his resignation savouring the creamy filling of the cake.

"One sock feels lonely if not in a pair." Clavis was the first to answer, smiling behind his grape juice he sipped gracefully looking at her smiling at him, amused at the originality of each answer of his "Of course all that time all alone in the drawer must be boring." Chevalier sighed heavily returning to his book, listening all the while to their conversation, grateful for the book covering him as he shook his head at Nokto reply while a feeble smile touched his lips "Well if he bickers with the other probably is better off alone." as his was the weirdest answer she had heard all night she focused her bright eyes on him, smiling softly before trail them on Luke "Are you alright guys ?" now he was beginning to question for real if there was not something in the soup that made them this way, even though he doubted it, Luke looked at everyone in turn to ascertain if it was not an trick of some kind orchestrated by Clavis, shaking his head to clear his mind, brushing away all the doubts as he caught eyes of Chevalier still reading his book, a passion bordering on obsession for the written words that signed he was still in his right mind"You shall ask our Belle, she began the mess." a malicious smile curled Clavis lips as he looked at him before shifting his glittering eyes on her once more, taking notice of the shy smile playing on her lips.

"Yeah but she was bored no one was talking before, you are the weirdos continuing it." she chuckled softly at his protective side, finding it quite endearing, she almost was tempted to call it a day for all her questions ... but first she had one still lingering in her mind "What is the synonym of the word synonym ?" her eyes slide on every one of them, thinking of the answer she found only when her eyes meet a pair of light blue ones, mild amusement glimmering in them making him strangely attractive along the feeble smile curling his lips she returned, admiration and gratitude swelling in her at the way he did not let her down at any question she had that night, no matter how trivial "That word hasn't it" that question though put on a stalemate the whole room, unable to find a better answer everyone was grateful for the distraction it come from the knock at the door. All eyes snapped to it, meeting the astounded, and mildly concerned, gaze of Leon frozen in his path his hand still on the doorknob, he thought of slide through before they noticed him, and the other bringing a plate with on top a pink cake and some pastries that immediately caught her attention, her eyes lightning up as she warmly welcomed him "Leon please come in." ignoring the curious gaze of the others he approached the table "Good evening to all. I am here on the behalf of my faction. You see we find ourselves with more dessert that we can eat and thought to share some with you." "Thank you Leon for your kind thoughts." he wanted to ask -Are you guys alright, he really did, but they seemed so engrossed in their strange discussion that he let it fall, sliding back from where he come "I wish you a pleasant dinner." "Otherwise." she waved back at him, while he slid back in the hallways, grateful for the idle and easy going talk that occupied his faction members at each meal, nothing like the sort of whimsical talks they were engaged in, but well if they were having fun, who was he to disrupt it ? Even though he was genuinely curious to know more things he would have done bribing Luke with some honey,maybe obtaining a satisfactory answer to this question in the morning.

Tag list

@kissmetwicekissmedeadly @aquagirl1978 @violettduchess @atelieredux @klutzyroses @scorchieart @randonauticrap @thewitchofbooks @princess-pray-a @itsjudesfault

#my writing #ikemen prince luke #ikepri luke #ikemen prince nokto #ikepri nokto #ikemen prince chevalier #ikepri chevalier #ikemen prince clavis #ikepri clavis #ikemen prince #ikepri

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pbaintthetb · 3 months

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Lol watched Book of Mormon (and hoo boy possibly actually one of my faves I've watched on stage. Plot is average at best but the goddamn choreo and the lights- the act 1 finale? I digress) thoughts

You can never go home again, or more accurately, You can never go to Orlando again. Anyway Price probably needs a few years to resort his head and life before he can go to Orlando and appreciate it because currently I don't think he can seperate what he wants (needs) Orlando to be from what Orlando actually is...

Orlando and Salt Lake City are the same in the sense that neither of them actually exist and they're metaphors (ignoring the fact that they do, both exist). Both Nabalungi and Price songs about their favourite fictional (real) real (fictional) place are kinda tragic because it reveals the things they view about the world as fact. Hence why this place is so special. Yes comparing Price's pretty first world problems with Nabalung's concerns is a bit of a stretch but also it kind is the same thematically.

I do hope Nabalungi can get what she wants from Salt Lake City though, although not necessarily in Salt Lake city idc.

The vibe I had in the interval was that it was possible out of district 9 Price is the only one to have actually read the Book of Mormon, cover to cover. Cunningham explictly hasn't, the conversation about "latter days" made me wonder if the other mormons only kinda read it which-

leads onto my thinking that like Price's relationship with Mormonism is, in many ways, more academic/clinical. Like he's got that kind of obsession with religion that I personally associate with people who don't actually believe but either A. really want to or B. really want to disprove it. Price is firmly in A, but yeah like I feel like Price needs Mormonism to be real where he is in the plot (Orlando. If mormonism is real he can go back to Orlando. And it's worth it.) But he doesn't necessarily actually have that spark of genuine belief the other District 9 elders have ya get me? Like he knows it back to front he knows the logic, adn in the coffee scene talks about how a lot of it has always seemed nonsensical and incoherent to him. It's a set of rules and guidelines but idk if Price actually has like core real belief/faith.

When those extra rows of lights came down for Man Up near the end of act 1? Oh yeah you bet we were all in for a fantastic time then, you know good stuff is gonna happen

The lighting in Sal Tlay Ka Siti was beautiful, like I mean the actress's performance and voice were great too, but the lighting really sold the like kinda hopeful tragic nature of the song. She's so happy most of the time but that song, ugh, the tree branch gobos, the visible beams, the colour KSJDFJS:LKDF

Lol disco ball.

The set? It's so detailed? And they get it up so fast? LIke I know they drop blacks in "You and me (but Mostly me)" so it's more than the black out, but STILL?

Again, how do they get the waistcoats on so bloody fast in "Turn it off"??? (I do actually have theories about this but that's not the point, it's stilll so cool)

Maybe this is just the run i watched, but like the Mormons, other than being dressed the same are all roughly the same height (except Cunningham) so their numbers are so extra cool because they really do kinda blend and move as one unit and it's so cool to watch. Especially Hello and Two by Two where they all have black ties.

Did they just start a new cult at the end? Curious what most of the mormons are gonna do when they leave Uganda. Also curious if their parents got an angry phone call from the mission president and are just like.... why aren't they home yet???

BFN is an elder now? Okay... not gonna touch that and how that happened

Nabalungi's dad is fucking hilarious omg his delivery this guy

The only song I'd heard was "You and me (But mostly me)" but I had been told of the spooky mormon hell song. The latter slapped. Did not have Atilla the Hun playing flute on my bingo card that day.

^I loved the blacks coming in from all sides to trap Cunningham out of "You and Me (But mostly Me)" and leave Price as the star also like I knew the song but teh first "but mostly me" cracked me up

One of the incorrect names Cunningham called Nabalungi was "Nigel Farage" lol. Couldn't hear much of the dialogue after that.

About the incorrect name, Nabalungi has the patience of a saint for sure.

Oh during teh play i couldn't watch half of it because I was too busy watching the district 9 elders, but mostly Price reacting to it. It was hilarious. Price looked so fucking happy but like he was trying to hide it and was clapping Cunningham on the shoulder at one point.

As a musical, it's incredible, and it properly contextualises a few things people have said about it and how long it's been running. By "as a musical" I mean the general production of it n shit. The plot is pretty average, the songs have funny lyrics but a lot of the numbers probably won't hold up so well on sound track for me personally- but when you're watching it??? oh yeah. Oh yeahhh.

Oh, the pipes on the guy playing Cunningham, man. MAN.

You can never go to Orlando again.

#Book of Mormon #this is more for my personal reasons so I can recall my thoughts on it in the future #you can never go to orlando again #I don't think price lost his conviction or faith in mormonism but rather his conviction that mormonism was worth having faith in

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manogirl · 6 months

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My Year in Reading, 2023

For the first time since 2012, I didn't do a GR reading challenge. In every year between 2012 and 2021, I read over 150 books. Some years it was closer to 150, some years closer to 200. In 2022, I read 83 books. In 2023, 79 books.

See, in 2022, my world broke. My brain broke. The big bad burnout turned my brain inside-out and upside-down and I lost reading. In that same long first half of 2022, I realized I had to leave librarianship. Not just my job, but my fucking career. See, I was a fiction librarian. I had this ultra-rare position that was my dream job, and reading was a part of my job. When people tell you not to make the thing you love your job, I know. I know what they're saying.

I spent the second half of 2022 living in a state of nearly constant joy. And I wasn't reading for a lot of it. If you asked me three years ago, I couldn't possibly have foreseen this turn of events. And for some of 2022, I was stressed about how much I WASN'T reading. I am trying to figure out how to express this, because it didn't feel BAD to not be reading. It felt right and it felt like I didn't want to be reading. But it also felt wrong because reading was a huge part of my life, and then....it wasn't.

I decided 2023 had to be different, in terms of how I related to reading, so I jettisoned the reading challenge and just let myself...be. Here's what I found out:

I read a lot of BL manga. I'm not a huge graphic novel OR manga fan, so this was a new and unexpected joy. This probably isn't surprising to you if you know me on tumblr through BL, but it was surprising to me. I figured I would dip into queer romance novels, but nope, it was the manga that I loved.

Danmei isn't for me. No idea why, because it seems like it'd be just my cup of tea, but it isn't. I like it, I just don't LOVE it, and right now I want to love the books I'm reading, especially if it's fiction because...

I read SO MUCH NONFICTION IN 2023. It's what my brain asked for, so that's what I fed it. It also probably contributed to my lower numbers; dense nonfiction takes a LOT longer to read than fiction/manga. I think...I'm a person who feels passionate about learning; I love it so so so much. And when my consumption habits switched to mainly frothy TV shows about men falling in love with each other, my brain was like, uh, you better feed us some facts, lady. So I did.

I...like?...memoirs? In my book club, I'm the person who hates memoirs. Memoirs that everyone loved I scoffed at. Memoirs, yuck. Except...apparently no. Apparently I like a memoir now. I guess this is maybe an offshoot of the nonfic bias but nonetheless, my brain continues to shock me and the people who know me best.

Anyway, here is a short, lightly annotated (not in order at all) list of my fave reads this year:

Tom Lake by Ann Patchett. Fuck yeah she doesn't miss.

Doppelganger by Naomi Klein. Oh this is the real shit, and she also doesn't miss.

Carrie Soto is Back by Taylor Jenkins Reid. Okay, a fiction book that I devoured. Sports + love + grief = a meditation on life.

Monsters: A Fan's Dilemma by Claire Dederer. I sometimes go back and read my highlights from this, because it was so fucking powerful and spoke to me so powerfully.

You Could Make This Place Beautiful by Maggie Smith. I loved this in a way I don't think I can explain. Simply stunning in all the right ways.

Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin. Video games + love + grief = a meditation on life. Fucking amazing.

Stay True by Hua Hsu. Oh jesus fuck this is sad but it is so so so so good.

Bookshops & Bonedust by Travis Baldree. Cozy fantasy that isn't romance is something I need more of in my life. Yes to orcs opening bookstores and coffee shops and very little fighting.

Witch Hat Atelier, all existing volumes, by Kamome Shirohama. I've been sharing these with my 8 year-old niece and it's just the nicest little happy thing.

Vagina Obscura by Rachel Gross. Yes, please explain my fucked up innards to me. Endometriosis ftw!

Fat Talk by Virginia Sole-Smith. Real, solid advice and real, solid evidence, and real, solid writing. Two thumbs up.

Maybe someday I'll do a post about how I've been tracking my reading since November 11, 2004. I guess we're hitting the 20th anniversary this coming year, after all.

I guess I do know one thing: I'm never NOT going to read at times. I still do love it, even if my needs and wants around it have changed. Happy New Year, all!

#a year in reading #fave books 2023 #former fiction librarian #best reads 2023 #best books 2023

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pianostarinwonderland · 1 year

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Girl say it louder FOR THE ONES AT THE BACK!! Azul is not a crybaby and his confidence is NOT faked C'MON!!!

Funny thing, someone told me they'd never seen an azul stan such as me who adored him sm, BUT I'M SORRY YOU NEED TO BE GETTING A CROWN FOR THIS, I am literally an amateur in front of you.

Also, I read that anon ask of yours where you both admitted to almost crying with azul, and now I feel kinda pathetic to say it hyped me up and I was disappointed it ended so quickly 💀 (also I didn't even realize he was crying until I logged onto tumblr wtf) it was more like "he's crying? is he? OMG AZUL IS CRYING?!?! LESSGO LMAO THIS IS INTERESTING" mind you I ADORE azul and I did even before book 1, but I just have this tendency to insult my favourite characters 💀 love-hate relationships <3

SPEAKING OF AZUL, I USED THAT BITCH IN MY ENGLISH DESCRIPTIVE WRITING IN MY EXAM. Yeah I used his personality, and mostro lounge's interior, and an angry client and some contracts bs💀 except I switched the tweels for a blue eyed woman u h. I ALSO NAMED THE AZUL CHARACTER JONES TF 😭 and he also had azuls glasses AND I WANTED TO ADD MORE BUT my English teacher isn't a boomer and there is a HIGH chance she'd played or HEARD of twst, so I didn't wanna embarrass myself. Now I hope azul charms my paper and I get a good grade sksjsjsj

[Reply to this reblog!]

I am so sorry this is so late HAHAHA BUT FKDFKNSDFKLSDF THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT and trust me, this may not be the last time I'll talk about this because who knows, something might inspire me to make a third post. But I won't try to bog this blog down either.

Anyway, onto the main anon, kjfsdnfkjdskjnjksdnjkdskf a lot of people have said that to me as well xDD I think I've gotten a couple of anon asks about it. I can't help but be loud about Azul here, he's my joy and light. But hey, loudness doesn't equate to how much one adores someone, I'm sure you adore Azul a lot as well (and please bug me about it so we can scream together, I need more Zuzu stannies)

As for the anon ask, ok I can't find it right now HDFKFJKSFKSD but noo don't worry too much about it. I know some Azul stans who also reacted the same way xD first impressions are first impressions, after all, plus not everyone will react the same way. Like ,, I love Riddle, but I was laughing when he cried the first time because the sounds sounded funny 💀 What matters more is understanding and the willingness to understand what's happening, why a character acted the way they did, and how they are as a person in general.

LMAOOOO good job anon, hope you got the grade you wanted. I've also used Azul in so many of my school outputs 💀💀💀 like, I used him once in a 17k word fic that I submitted in class HAHAHHAHAAHAHAHHAHA I never got my grade for it but hey . it was worth it. I have a novel now that I could potentially publish if I just revise and edit.

#azul ashengrotto #ask

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makethosenarratorsfight · 1 year

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UNRELIABLE NARRATORS; SIDE C

Apollo/Lester Propaganda:

Bro thinks everyone is in love with him and only waiting for him to ask, to do anything he wants, but no one actually cares about him <3 He learns through the books, though

Gideon Nav Propaganda:

More Propaganda under cut!

#apollo #lester #trials of apollo #unreliable narrator battle #unreliable narrators #polls #side c #gideon nav #the locked tomb

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dragonmuse · 2 years

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I'm still very fucked up over 'wake myself in the shadows,' in a way I think I've only been fucked up over your Eddy/Izzy AUs. The line "Charlie doesn't like his bruises much," made me wonder how violence fits into his relationship with Charlie. Does he ever witness it beyond Izzy telling the occasional handsy-not-in-the-good-way club goer to fuck off? How does Charlie react? Do they ever have an honest discussion about what he does for a living? Since Charlie seemingly lived a rich boy apple pie life that he clawed himself out of, does he ever find himself taken a bit by Izzy's absolute horror show of a past and profession? Will I ever be okay about anything you write?!

I can answer all of those except the last one. The last one I can only say, I hope not! Living the dream making my headcanons other people's problems honestly.

Charlie sees far more of Izzy's violent side in wmits then Lucius ever does in the main verse. Mostly because Charlie is willing to put himself in far higher risk situations. The 'don't fucking touch him' scenes have resulted in: unconsciousness, head wounds, vomiting and several broken fingers. Possibly a broken wrist, they didn't stick around long enough to find out.

Charlie loves it, in a desperate sour way. It doesn't turn him on. They've never had sex directly afterwards or even in the same night, but it feeds Charlie's need to be protected and cared for. He will absolutely dote on Izzy afterwards, clinging, kissing, hugging, patching any minor wounds he's picked up, which clearly does not act as a deterrent against future events.

As to honest discussion of the work, Izzy idly critiques a scene in a book they're both reading right around when Charlie's getting ready to move away:

"Anyway, people don't say meaningful shit when they're dying like that."

"What do you mean?" Charlie glanced up from the muffin he'd been picking at.

"Blood loss makes you all..." Izzy waved a hand around his head. "People say stupid shit mostly."

"Iz," Charlie said carefully. "How do you know that?"

Izzy stared at him, "Work."

"Yeah, I know you spend a lot of time beating people up, but you're not an assassin."

"I'm not," Izzy agreed. "Forget it."

Charlie did not forget it. He thought about it a lot. He moved. Izzy visited. On the second or third visit, they were in Charlie's too small bed, Charlie sprawled on top of him, Izzy rubbing a hand between his shoulder blades.

"You know a serial killer is defined by three or more murders." Izzy's hand went still. "As long as there's some space between them. Otherwise they're just sparkling spree killers."

"Is that so."

"Yeah, fun fact: I do not give a shit."

"You should," Izzy said quietly. "You really fucking should."

Charlie laid his head down flat so he could hear Izzy's heartbeat steady in his ear.

"Did you enjoy it?"

"No. Didn't feel any particular way about it."

"Going to do it again?"

"No. Jackie doesn't need it and I'm about done there anyway."

"Would you ever hurt me?"

"Fuck no."

"Then yeah, I don't really care."

After that, Izzy told him stories. To Charlie, they're really just that because Izzy tells them so simply it's hard to take them very seriously. The people Izzy talks about seem like bad news and Charlie figures, in a very distant unprocessed way, that they probably deserve it.

"Then I shot him."

"Did you stay to make sure he was dead?"

"In too much of a rush. That's why I shot him twice, demon."

"Make sense. How'd you get away?"

As to Izzy's childhood....One of the things I didn't get too far into, but you are exactly right about, about Charlie in this verse is that he is a Trust Fund Baby. Charlie in the main verse is rich, but mostly doesn't spend it in obvious loud ways. Charlie in wmits is Rich. His money is another shield that keeps the world at arm's length. He will wear bitchy expensive sunglasses, make problems disappear, and travel first class only.

He mostly confronts Izzy's past at odd angles because of that. The way Izzy will use every last scrape of a jar of something, and is adamant about finishing leftovers, or won't throw out an old t-shirt even though he's not sentimental over it. Charlie gets baffled by all that and Izzy has to explain what it is to not have enough.

Then there are the times that Izzy will sit bolt upright in bed in the middle of the night, startling Charlie awake and after a few times, Charlie makes him explain, so Izzy tells him what it's like not to feel safe in your own bed, and then Charlie has a few sleepless nights.

"Is there anything that helps?"

"Waking up next to you. Reminds me things are different," Izzy nudged him with his elbow. "Don't worry about it."

Charlie, not prone to worrying about anyone, does. And he tapers away sleeping at hook ups houses and then eventually stops altogether. He'd rather be in his own bed anyway.

What Charlie never is, is scared of Izzy. He probably should be. He's watched Izzy be scary. Knows exactly what he's capable of, but Charlie is used to being scared of all the wrong things and not scared of the right ones.

And of course, it creates more of that 'world of two' feeling. Because Charlie knows who Izzy is when no one else does. He's very protective over that.

Lucius never knows any of this in this verse. He knows Izzy has a lot of scars, but he knows that Eddy does too and leaves it there. He doesn't need to know.

I'd happily flush out more! I love these two horrible lovers and their oblivious third wheel very much.

#leda house and the kraken verse #ask answered #wake myself in the shadows #charlie bonnet #izzy hands

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