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dreamescapeswriting · 3 years

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Write Up ~ KTH [Request]

WORD COUNT: 2.3k

GENRE: Fluffy, jealous, established-relationship

PAIRING: Taehyung x Fem!Reader x Seungmin (for like a couple of paragraphs)

A/N: As soon as I saw Puppy dog crush I had to make it Seungmin! Hope you enjoy!

Staring over at the clock on the wall you hoped it was just a little fast and that you weren't being stood up by your boyfriend Taehyung, time seemed to be moving slower now that you were staring at the clock on the wall. It was a Wednesday afternoon which meant it was his afternoon off and he could come and spend the afternoon with you in a small cafe in the middle of Seoul. It was the cutest cafe in the whole of the city, right down an alleyway which meant that hardly anybody knew that the place existed and that you were free to just let your hair down. The two of you had been together secretly for the last year and a half and this was one of the weekly routines that you would do together in this one spot. The owners knew you both well and would always make sure to have your orders waiting for you whenever you came in to work in the shop. You'd been working as a songwriter for years in the industry, working with people not just in the Kpop industry but with Western artists too. It was something you were very well known for since people liked to collaborate with you a lot, forming friendships and business relationships with different singers and groups was intimidating but something you'd always longed to do.

A couple of companies had gone to you with the task of creating some love songs for their performers, all you were told about them was that the people that would be singing the songs would be female. You weren't allowed to know anything else except for that which was why Taehyung had offered to come by and help you with writing. Writing songs alone wasn't normally an issue but you'd been struggling a lot with this one, Taehyung offered to help as a way of couple bonding with you. Spending time together while getting to write about your love life in a song that would be able to be heard by people all over the world.

Tae: I got caught up, reschedule for next week? You smiled down at your phone, at least this time he text you telling you what had happened and you weren't left waiting. It wasn't like you were mad at him for being late or not showing up, you understood what it was like for him being so busy all of the time.

You: No problem baby, I'll head home after writing down some ideas x It wasn't as though it was a big deal having to write on your own but Taehyung felt bad for making you do it. He wanted to be the one there helping you out with the lyrics. In a way, it would be "your song" without everyone knowing that it was about your relationship. No matter how hard Taehyung had tried this week he couldn't seem to catch a break, no matter what he did everything seemed to pile on top of him more and more. Although he was supposed to have every Wednesday afternoon off he'd been so caught up and behind with recordings that he didn't have the chance to have the day off. It felt as though he was being rushed off his feet all of the time and had no chance for time to himself but he was going to make it up to you.

"Y/n?" You looked up when you heard an unfamiliar voice call out your name and smiled when you saw who was standing there. You couldn't believe it when you saw who it was it was as if the universe was throwing you a bone since Taehyung wasn't coming to meet you.

"Seungmin?" You questioned as you looked up at the boy you used to know really well. You and Seungmin had gone to the same school for years and got along well with one another but after graduating you grew apart and ended up losing touch with one another. He didn't look much different than before only a lot taller and his hair was dyed black rather than his natural brown colour but it felt so weird to see him after all this time.

"What brings you out here?" You laughed softly as you pushed the chair that was in front of you out from under the table so that he could sit down with you. It had been so long since you'd even seen him it felt odd to just bump into one another while you were out and around the city. You figured he would be too busy with his own group to come to smaller places like this. You'd watched him on his show and always sent moral support online whenever you could, not knowing if he'd see it but still wanting to be there for an old friend.

"I come here a lot, I've never seen you before it's normally some couple sitting here," You felt the heat rise up over your body as you thought about someone see you and Taehyung here together and you nodded. Clearly, no one knew it was Taehyung since he was always in a disguise, the same hat, sunglasses and mask to keep himself hidden away. The booth was normally reserved for you and Taehyung to sit in by the couple that ran the cafe, they always made sure your spot was free.

"Guilty, it's normally me and my boyfriend," You smiled at Seungmin and he smiled back, the huge puppy dog smile you loved so much spreading across his face.

"Do you want to join me?" You asked as you waved over the owner who had been staring at you wondering who it was that had decided to join you.

"You look busy, I don't want to interrupt anything..." Seungmin said slowly as he looked at the papers that were covering the small table. Even though he really wanted to stay with you and do nothing but sit with you all day he didn't want to stop you from doing your work. The truth was that Seungmin had always had a crush on you even when you were in school together, he'd always had a puppy crush on you. Although everyone else knew that it was obvious you were oblivious to it all, just thinking he was a close friend.

"I'm just working on a song but I'm struggling. Maybe you can help?" You suggested as you showed him everything you already had down which was half of a drawn spider-diagram with the words, "Lovesong," written in the middle.

"Love songs? Not your field of expertise?" He asked as he sat down in the chair and looked over the notebook, small doodles of hearts and things were drawn around the edges but not much else. It was a lot like most of your work in school with the doodles around the outside edges.

"You would think I'd be great at them but I always seem to write the same thing over and over again." You admitted as you scratched the back of your neck, normally you would be able to write non-stop but when it came to love you only knew one kind and you didn't want it to be one-note for everything.

"Can I get my usual please Zyliara?" You asked the owner who had already taken out her notebook and wrote it down before turning to look at Seungmin for his order.

"Oh, can I get a strawberry milkshake and taiyaki?" Seungmin thanked Zyliara and you laughed again at the thought of his order. Some things never changed after all the time in the world,

"It's still your favourite? I remember you would only ever order that whenever we went out for lunch in our final year," You smiled as you remembered fond memories from your time in school. Seungmin made the process of something that was normally terrible that much more bearable.

After catching up with one another the two of you finally got down to working on some love song lyrics. You had a small mp3 player with the track you'd made which made the process a lot simpler but what both of you had failed to notice was people seeing you both. Passing you in the nearby window and noticing that it was Y/n Y/l/n famous songwriter and Kim Seungmin from Stray kids. Once photos were taken of the both of you it spread like wildfire but neither of you had noticed since you were so lost in your own worlds. You'd gone home that night happy that the song was almost complete, you had some minor adjustments to make to the chorus and backing tracks but other than that the song was perfect. Seungmin had been a great help to you, you both exchanged numbers so you could catch up again and even work for him sometime in the future if his company allowed it.

"Alright! I'm coming jeez!" You called out to whoever was frantically ringing your doorbell at 8 am on a Thursday morning. It was far too early to be woken up like this, you scrambled over to the door and angrily swung it open to see who was standing there,

"Tae?" You questioned rubbing your eyes as he made his way into the apartment with an angry look across his face. He was red in the face as he burst through the door but you couldn't think why he would be so mad at this time in the morning. The last time you'd spoken to him was before you went to sleep after leaving him a voicemail telling him that you had finished the song you were working on and didn't need help anymore.

"I thought we were going to work together...I thought it would be nice to write about our love life..." You frowned as he spoke so fast you could barely understand what he was trying to say to you. Shutting the door to your apartment you walked further into the house to ask him what was going on,

"Tae what are you talking about-" You stopped questioning him when he pulled out his phone to show you articles after articles about you and Seungmin sitting together. Photos were splashed everywhere with different titles, one of them being,

"The collaboration of a lifetime." And another of you and Seungmin rather close together edited with hearts around your heads and labelled,

"Kim Seungmin and Y/n Y/ln spotted cosying up to one another...Another hot love life or another hot single coming to the charts?" You stared at the phone for a second before looking back at Taehyung.

"Tae, he's an old friend..." You tried to tell him but nothing was going to stop Taehyung from being hurt by the way fact that you were writing a love song with somebody else. Somebody that wasn't him.

"Does he even know you have a boyfriend?!" He snapped out jealously as he looked at you, throwing his phone down onto the sofa behind him as he waited for you to answer him. All he could think about when he saw the images was how everyone was going to assume you were a couple with him now. That his girlfriend was going to be seen with other male artists who were

"Yes, he's seen us together before but he doesn't know who you are since you're always in disguise. Tae we're just friends," You told him again as you tried to make it seem as though it wasn't a big deal. Which it wasn't. Seungmin had always been someone you saw as a younger sibling, nothing more and nothing less.

"But why did you finish the song with him...I thought we were going to do it together? We should have done it together, we're the couple here..." You knew why he was upset over it so you tried not to get angry at him for this.

"Tae. You've been so busy I thought you would have been relieved not to have to stress out over another song with me." You admitted as you took his hand in yours, trying to calm him down as much as you could you gave it a small squeeze. You didn't want this to turn into a huge unneeded fight between the two of you.

"It wouldn't have stressed me out...Writing with you is one of my dreams Y/n...We've spoken about it for months," He admitted as he looked at you you smiled weakly as you met his gaze, he looked tired. More so than usual now that you looked at him properly. He had bags under his eyes and looked like he hadn't slept much in weeks.

"How about we write a different song together, our own song? One for you and me alone?" You suggested as you reached up to cup his face in your hand and run your thumb over his skin. His eyes slowly fluttered shut and a tired smile began to grow on his face at the contact of your hand and he leant against it, snuggling against your hand as he enjoyed the feeling of being there with you.

"That sounds good." He moaned out tiredly, enjoying the feeling of your hand on his skin too much to fight back against it, not that he wanted to. The idea of you having your own song sounded better than someone else singing about your love together.

"Do you know what will sound better?" You asked him as you moved your hand down to his shoulders and began to massage him through his clothes,

"Hmm? What?" He hummed as he opened his eyes slowly to look at you,

"I run you a nice hot bubble bath, I give you a massage and then we order in? Let me make you feel good Tae," You suggested as you looked at him he nodded happily. Nothing sounded better to him right now than spending the entire day off. Since he'd already called in sick to the boys anyway, there was nothing back home that he had to get home to and he could spend all his time with you instead.

Tagline: @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @rjsmochii @fan-ati--c @kneel-begyourpardon @taestannie @bisexualmess007 @innersooya @sw33tnight @sweeneyblue1 @jin-from-the-block

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ladyyatexel · 3 years

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I Went On A Manga Binge

So you don't have to

For those of you who have wisely avoided the shreds of it I've left around the blog thus-far, I had some weird notion to go re-experience Yu-Gi-Oh uuuuuh a week ago? We'll go with that. Time is meaningless.

I'd been able to read a good portion of the early manga at the end of highschool, and somewhere in my stacks and stacks of paper is fanart from this dark time, so you know I cared. I also still own a Dark Magician action figure somehow, so. I'd also watched a large portion of the anime with my brother because it had been laced with some kind of crack and we couldn't look away? I remember when we both were just like shit, wait, don't change the channel, I can't stop looking at it. And the next thing we knew we were waiting for new episodes and I was doing research on the Japanese original because I was that kid.

Anyway, unnecessary backstory out of the way, here are some... let's call them Observations and Consequences of having read somewhere in the neighborhood of 300 chapters (and growing) of a manga primarily hinged on card games from a spectrum of sources ranging from boringly lawful to sketchy as fuck.

Surprise actual character that develops in typical shounen fashion being Jounouchi. My limited experiences with the 4Kids dub and only early manga had not painted him in a particularly good light. I don't know if episodes were being aired out of order or if I had just missed the ones that established that he was making shit up as he was going along, but Wow I liked him a lot more going through the manga than I ever did watching the (dubbed, heavily edited and censored and thrown into a slurry machine) anime. I'd managed to come out with the impression that he was just as reasonably experienced with the game as Yugi back in the day. Wild.

I'm now reading every single comic-style post on Tumblr backwards.

Striking inverse to first point, wow, I don't like Seto Kaiba. Though he gets points for his general philosophy of the future, and the line I read in my sketchy online combo of scans and scanlations in which he said, "If God is in your way, you run him down," was Metal As Fuck. I somewhat shame-facedly admit to enjoying him a lot more as an Abridged Series character. (I watched Abridged as it came out back in the day! The experience of watching the anime with my brother had been so fresh that I got all the in jokes about the way things were edited and dubbed, it was great. Series remains influential part of my life to this day, which is hella weird.)

I almost understand how Duel Monsters works now. I don't want this.

That said, wow a lot of the decisions made in the anime made everything a lot more ridiculous than the admittedly already ridiculous original. I got the distinct feeling in the manga that the Duelist Kingdom stuff we were seeing was designed to be used and exploited in ways that don't make sense in an actual cardgame just played on a table like a normal person and this was part of testing everyone to think higher, differently. Maybe this is obvious to everyone already, I don't know. I had always liked that it was very, 'Not so fast, I'm going to blow up the moon to change the tides,' but I'm not really sure the anime gave enough explanation that this was an extra layer added to things for that event? You can see people actively getting used to it in the books, and people who aren't considering the real or 3D nature of it getting owned, but my memory of anime version is everyone just like, 'oh, shucks, fuck me, I forgot to consider the phase of the moon before i played this card, can't believe I forgot.' No one calls Yugi on any of this stuff because it's valid play in that situation. Plus Yami Yugi had mad trickster energy in the beginning and it suited him to think of ways to do things inside these little simulation boxes the way it suited him to set perverts on fire. I imagine the real card game trying to emulate this element as something that would be to its detriment, but I neither know nor particular care haha

Ryou Bakura.

Really, though. I think he became kind of casualty of 'wow, we have a lot of characters who really aren't able to do anything in this story anymore,' despite the fact that his whole inner life could have been as interesting as Yugi's. I always like thinking about the possibilities of stories in which main character falls into magical world and is given magical item and told they're the hero and then they find out they've been the bad guy the whole time. The first several volumes of manga were about the quiet weirdo kid that no one talked to who was always blacking out and turning into a fucked up version of himsef because he was so attached to his ancient Egyptian jewelry, so like, Bakura could have much the same shit going on. I want to know what's happening with him so much. He clearly doesn't love being possessed, but he's also so drawn to the ring. Despite it having stabbed him at least twice and him knowing it's a danger to him and his friends, he keeps being pulled back into it. You see so much more of him being like, 'Oooh, a creepy thing, I love that! :D' in the manga than ever in the anime, which I'm all about. Also more blood. I'm very about that as well. Though my memory of the anime also made it look very much like normal regular daily Bakura was just a weird facade in places before he ever would have been. I think that was it trying to compensate for what people didn't see from the Toei anime, but okay whatever, that I love everything about this guy is not news, I don't need to talk about Bakura excessively here, I'm pretty sure that's gonna show up on my blog by itself

On a related note though, damn, more of these people need to talk to each other. Can we have some existential crisis support clubs or something. Can we get like some apologies or something? "I respect you as a duelist." "Cool, but you literally built a tower designed to specifically assassinate me and my friends? You were supposed to get Better after I retaliated by putting you in a coma, but you kinda didn't." "Why would the coma have made it better" "I just told you it didn't" ---- "Sorry I went along with the plan of your evil parasite stabbing you, misled you, and then also jumped in and took up some real estate in your head too." "I understand, I also have an evil thing inside me that does things while I'm blacked out." "...no, I was conscious for all of that." "Oh." "..." "..." "..." "Do you like Ouija Boards?" "sure okay" ETC. Like damn we are reading shounen manga because no one is talking extensively about their feelings here and I'm tapping my foot angrily.

Holy shit there are so many mythologies happening at once. The ancient family guarding the Egyptian Pharaoh has a surname that's a Mesopotamian goddess. None of the god cards make any Egyptian sense except Ra, and just like. Baaarrrrely. Somewhere either Evil Ring Bakura or Mar/lik makes a reference to cremation and spirits being taken to heaven with smoke which several things, but definitely not Ancient Egyptian. Marik/Malik meanwhile is clearly trying to head Arabic, along with Rishid, but then, hey, our sister is just Isis. Goddess McGoddess. Sometimes they're the same goddess! Her name could be Isis Isis or Ishtar Ishtar. Meanwhile, all the obviously 'occult because Christians think it is freaky' stuff. ~ancient egyptian pentagrams~~~This isn't a complaint, I guess so much as a 'Wow, I can kind of see the cultural spot the author was coming from and where he was aiming' kind of thing.

Wonder where things would have gone if the card games had not been latched onto the way they were.

Managed to forget how gross the pre-cardgames stuff was on the sexual harassment front. I'm glad there was a sort of explanation of everyone drifting away from being dick heads and that that decision was made. It got way more comfortable to read after no one was bringing Yugi p*rn on VHS.

Yugi looks better with a nose, glad we got that upgrade.

Interesting to watch the series style shift as it goes away from being horror to being over the top cardgames and friendship (with blood!). The first picture of Mokuba is fucking Jarring. Also noticed that the nicer a character is, the less their teeth are defined.

Glad manga did not go as completely off the fucking the rails about Marik's face. I never got as far as seeing him back in the day because college occurred, but I remember seeing pictures and stuff and being like, "what in the Fuck happened to that dude, I think the house style has collapsed in on itself"

Things the author Really Likes: motorcycles, belts, SHOES, holy shit the shoes. These are some of the most lovingly rendered sneakers I've ever seen. All the detail on his characters goes straight to their feet and then it's stretched upward until it forms stiff peaks. Gently fold in 3000 years of trauma and bake face down in a crumb coat of scattered mythology. Remove when you roll two zeros.

Where the fuck am I going to put the extremely large omnibus volumes of this comic I purchased in order to balance out how much I would be reading for free on the internet. I should have grasped that a three in one edition would be Thick and yet somehow I was still :O when it arrived. Have I strategically purchased volumes that contain my favorite parts, maybe, what's it to you will i eventually get the whole thing because incomplete book series gnaw on my soul? yes

Wish the transition from "I've murdered several people in delightfully karmic ways" to "all you need is friendship in your heart and cards in your hand" Yami Yugi/Pharaoh had been discussed more/transitioned better. Buddy, where did you get this approved for television high horse? Please go back to strangling people with yo-yos or at least tell me why you stopped.

I still can't tell anything that looks like a big robotic monster apart from any other big robotic monster. My dude, I can't tell cars apart, all these monsters look the same.

Yami Yugi fascinated me way more in highschool? Maybe because it was still super early and the anime was like 'we need to torture you about his origins WeEkLy. Now I'm just like 'wait hold on, can we go back to Bakura and Marik for a minute, there's some extreme unpacking to do here?' Those two are paying so much more in baggage fees here my guy wow

Violently uninterested in any of the spinoff media

#yugioh #yu gi oh #ygo #there you go i can't imagine any other way you would decide was necessary to tag this #perhaps now that i have thrown this up i can #something #i don't know how i was going to finish that sentence #shut up lady

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alixanonymous · 4 years

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How A Demon Commissions An Angel ~ A Daminette FanFic ~ Chapter 9: An Opening For Options

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Sent you an email for Jason’s jacket. Had an idea I think you might like.

Mr. Postscript: I see popular culture references strike again.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Is that a problem?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Cause I’m not even sure “Hit me with your best shot” would be considered a pop culture reference. I mean isn’t that song from like the 80’s?

Mr. Postscript: 1979 but I think it has less to do with when the source material was released and more with how often the reference is used in modern times, which in this case would be much too frequently.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Did google help you come to that conclusion?

Mr. Postscript: …

Mr. Postscript: All online research must begin with the use of a search engine.

Mr. Postscript: At least I don’t use Wikipedia as a resource.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Everyone uses Wikipedia.

Mr. Postscript: Clearly not everyone.

Mr. Postscript: …

Mr. Postscript: Do you?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Of course! I even donate to them every now and then!

Mr. Postscript: I see.

Mr. Postscript: I’m beginning to reconsider our friendship.

Mr. Postscript: I just don’t know if I can forgive this egregious offense.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Really, Mr. Drama Queen? My friends and their interrogations won’t scare you off but my support of the largest archive of free information will?

Mr. Postscript: Your friends were perfectly in their rights to see if I was worthy of your friendship.

Mr. Postscript: I believe I passed the test.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: You were great Damian! Honestly, thank you for putting up with them. Maybe you’re not as bad with people as you think.

Mr. Postscript: Yes, well it does help if they are more than three thousand miles away.

Mr. Postscript: There’s also the fact that I’ve admired Ms. Tsurgi’s fencing style for a while now which may have something to do with it. I’ve been following her career for years.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: …

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Damian, how do you know who she is? We never told you her last name.

Mr. Postscript: Right…

Mr. Postscript: It may have come up in my initial search for your identity.

Mr. Postscript: I don’t imagine there are many girls your age named Kagami who know how to fence, live in Paris, and have close ties to your class.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Okay, that explains that.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I mean it’s still pretty creepy mind you but I went into this friendship knowing how it started.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I guess it’s just weird to think that you know so much about me and I still know so little about you, not even your last name.

Mr. Postscript: You know more about me than anyone besides my family, angel. I wouldn’t want you knowing my last name to make you think differently.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Because you’re famous?

Mr. Postscript: In a way, yes.

Mr. Postscript: You could probably find out who I was if you wanted, you have enough information to work with but I wish you wouldn’t.

Mr. Postscript: I don’t think you’d like what you’d find.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Trust me, I know better than anyone that people sometimes only see what they want to. A little bad publicity won’t make me think differently of you.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Besides, I already told your brother, Damian. You get to decide what you tell me and when.

Mr. Postscript: I should’ve given you the same choice. If I’d known the kind of person you were beforehand, I would’ve.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: That’s the thing, you can’t know who people are before you get to know them.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: You have to give people a chance, Dami.

Mr. Postscript: What if they end up being like Ms. Rossi?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: If we constantly think the worst of people, we’ll end up like Lila, calculating and manipulative.

Mr. Postscript: I suppose I see why you might think that.

Mr. Postscript: You know…

Mr. Postscript: If my family ever finds out how we met, I’d hate to have to deal with their disappointment. I think Todd already wants to adopt you.

Mr. Postscript: Be on alert for another phone theft.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Well, they may never know. After all, they’ll get these amazing gifts for Christmas that will obviously show a lot of thought and consideration.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: They’ll never suspect we had a rocky start.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: But back to the subject of amazing gifts, do you like the wording? Is it not his style?

Mr. Postscript: Oh, Todd will love having that across his back.

Mr. Postscript: I just have a question about the “o” in shot. It’s supposed to be a target right?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Yes! Well sorta?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I want to make it look like a poker chip with a target on it.

Mr. Postscript: Oh. I can see that. Why a poker chip? I don’t recall it coming up in our earlier discussion.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I mean it did in a way.

Mr. Postscript: Oh? How so?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: The poker chip would be stitched on the back of his right shoulder meaning he’d have a chip on his shoulder.

Mr. Postscript: …

Mr. Postscript: I approve the design. The double meaning in your designs will be incredibly entertaining for me every time I see my brothers wearing them.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Well, like I said. Subtle details are my specialty. But I don’t recall any double meaning in Grayson’s design.

Mr. Postscript: Right.

Mr. Postscript: I stand corrected. I simply meant there are a lot of subtle details.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Okay! That reminds me! I’ve started Grayson’s sweater.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Just sent a progress update to your email.

Mr. Postscript: It’s looking exactly like your drawing. I approve the choice of yarn; the colors are appropriately vibrant.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Great!

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: So what were you thinking for Drake’s sweater?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I think I remember you mentioned a drawstring hood.

Mr. Postscript: I did, yes. However, I’ve been rethinking that idea.

Mr. Postscript: I can picture my family accusing me of trying to suffocate Drake.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: …

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Well, we wouldn’t want that!

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: You know maybe the “hit me with your best shot” thing wasn’t the best idea either.

Mr. Postscript: It’s not that concerning with Todd. I’m sure he’ll just love that across his back. Drake and I have a more complicated history.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Didn’t you say your inside jokes with Jason were your attempts on each other’s lives?

Mr. Postscript: Yes but it’s Jason. He antagonizes everyone.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Got it. But Drake’s different?

Mr. Postscript: Yes. Everyone loves Drake. Well, except for Todd but we’ve established that Todd hates everyone.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: So why are things complicated between you too?

Mr. Postscript: Correction: Two

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: …

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: You know what? Okay. I stand corrected. Question still applies.

Mr. Postscript: I may have treated him poorly when I first joined the family. He was the most recent addition to my father’s collection of orphan children and I may have tried to claim his place in the family by forcibly removing him from it.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I see. So you felt threatened by his presence and handled it poorly?

Mr. Postscript: I would say that is a drastic yet not wholly inaccurate interpretation.

Mr. Postscript: However, I’ve since realized that my initial concerns were unnecessary. Drake is a threat to no one but himself.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: But your family still holds it against you? They still think you might actually hurt him?

Mr. Postscript: Well, I was a bit extreme and while I no longer harbor the same intentions, no one could accuse us of being particularly warm.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I see.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Have you tried apologizing?

Mr. Postscript: You mean sincerely and not because father ordered me to?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Yes.

Mr. Postscript: Then no.

Mr. Postscript: However, before you begin what would surely be a fruitless campaign to get me to change that…

Mr. Postscript: Might I remind you my family isn’t big on addressing our feelings? I believe Todd’s tried to hurt Drake before too and I highly doubt he ever issued an apology yet they seem to be on good terms again.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Right.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Well, as your resident people skills instructor, I think I’m supposed to give you some kind of advice like two wrongs not making a right but frankly I’ve begun to realize that is utter bullshit, pardon my english. So I can understand why an apology would not be on the table.

Mr. Postscript: I’ve never understood that saying and I’m glad that I will not have to hear it from you.

Mr. Postscript: Do not mistake me, I understand the sentiment in a way however, I’ve always felt it to be too general and way too easy to use in a non-applicable, negative context.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Good to know where on the same page there.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Damian, I don’t mean to pry but can I ask you a question?

Mr. Postscript: You may ask and I may answer.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Do you feel like your family holds you to a higher standard?

Mr. Postscript: …

Mr. Postscript: I don’t know if I’d call it a higher standard.

Mr. Postscript: …

Mr. Postscript: I simply have more to catch up on. I started with less knowledge of some basic things than the rest of my brothers. However, I wouldn’t say I’m treated differently in any case. You should see Todd and father argue sometime.

Mr. Postscript: I just hate feeling behind. I’m used to being the best, the favorite like I was when I lived with my mother. So failing like I have recently has been frustrating, especially with what’s now on the line.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: You mean the threat of moving?

Mr. Postscript: I wouldn’t call it a threat. I actually feel like I should mention that the place he wants to send me to is actually somewhere all my brothers have attended so it’s not like I’d be the first to go there in any case.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Oh, so it’s like a family tradition?

Mr. Postscript: I suppose you could say that.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: So would going really be that bad?

Mr. Postscript: Honestly?

Mr. Postscript: In theory, it wouldn’t be the end of the world or anything. In actuality? I can’t imagine it would be pleasant.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Okay. If there’s one thing that makes you not want to go, what would it be?

Mr. Postscript: Is it not self-explanatory? Why would I want to start over again and lose all I’ve earned since coming here? I spent ten years of my life without my family, is it a crime to not want to waste any more?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Okay, I would say that does sound rather awful to put it lightly but would it really be like that? I mean it’s not like you’re going off to war or anything, right? You’d still talk regularly and video chat and stuff?

Mr. Postscript: I’m sure we would, angel, but they’d still be here, all together and I’d be miles away, with only people I’d have no clue how to interact with for company.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Right.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Are you worried about feeling like an outsider again?

Mr. Postscript: No.

Mr. Postscript: Not quite…

Mr. Postscript: I’m more worried about feeling like a failure. Nothing is more shameful than being a disappointment. Especially when I have three brothers who aren’t even related to contend with that seem to be doing him proud.

Mr. Postscript: Except for Todd but he’s turned disappointing father into its own type of game and at which he’s winning.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Aren’t your brothers older than you? And haven’t they been with your dad longer? Surely it doesn’t make sense to compare yourself to them?

Mr. Postscript: Please!

Mr. Postscript: When Drake was my age, father was already training him to take over the family business.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Damian, in any case it’s not a competition, right? You’re not competing with them for your father’s regard.

Mr. Postscript: Maybe that’s so. I still feel like I’m losing and I hate that.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Yeah, I imagine you would.

Mr. Postscript: How helpful.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I mean, you’re always allowed to feel how you do.

Mr. Postscript: Thank you for the permission. I do so appreciate it.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Okay, Mr. Sarcasm, do you really want to know what I think?

Mr. Postscript: …

Mr. Postscript: Go on.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Okay, you might not want to hear this and of course this is just my opinion but it seems to me like you have really high expectations to meet, maybe they’re other people’s or maybe their your own. Whether or not you actually have to contend with your brother’s achievements, you obviously feel like you do and I can see how that would be hard to turn off. So maybe some distance from the situation would be a good thing?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I know that having to meet new people especially when socializing isn’t your strong suit sounds daunting but I kinda feel like you’re selling yourself short. Sure, you’ve had trouble in the past but you’ve made progress right? Moving to a new place doesn’t erase any of that. I get that the first time you had to start over was hard but now you’re older and wiser and have family to support you and a wonderful friend/moral compass to help you (aka me). Plus, I don’t know, it just feels like you’re really focused on doing what you think people expect of you and not what you really want for yourself. I don’t know, maybe some time away from expectations and legacies might give you some perspective.

Mr. Postscript: …

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: …

Mr. Postscript: Withdrawing now, giving up and moving on, wouldn’t that be like quitting? Is quitting not another form of losing?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: If you’re looking at it like that, I’d ask yourself this: Is winning worth it if you hate the game you’re playing?

Mr. Postscript: …

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: …

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: So, totally overstepped there, didn’t I? Sorry!

Mr. Postscript: No need to apologize.

Mr. Postscript: I’m just not sure how I feel right now.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: That’s okay! I’m not trying to force you to make any big decisions right now or anything. If you just want some time to think, that’s cool. Whatever you end up doing, you deserve to have a choice in it so let’s come up with something for Drake’s sweater so your dad doesn’t force your hand okay?

Mr. Postscript: Okay.

Mr. Postscript: Marinette?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Yes?

Mr. Postscript: Thank you.

Mr. Postscript: Everything you’ve done and said so far has shown a level of care for me I’ve done nothing to deserve and I know you’re always just trying to help me and I'm very grateful. I just want you to know I will do my best to be as good a friend to you too.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I know, Damian. You may have your faults (we all do) but loyalty is not one of them.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: For whatever it’s worth, I think your family also wants what’s best for you like I do. It just has to be up to you to decide what that is.

Mr. Postscript: Right.

Mr. Postscript: Well for starters, I think it would be best for me to avoid being accused of attempting to suffocate Drake.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Yeah, I agree.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: So would you want just a regular sweater for him then? Or I could make a drawstring hood that doesn’t close completely? I could make it so there’s always a gap left to breathe through.

Mr. Postscript: I like that last idea best.

Mr. Postscript: My original vision was that Drake could easily shut out the world and fall asleep in it so we don’t have to deal with his insomniac coffee zombie antics all the time.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I want my business card to have “insomniac coffee zombie” on it.

Mr. Postscript: I highly doubt you’d get a lot of business that way. It’s a poor marketing strategy. It comes off as unprofessional.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Please, my clients are normally the reason I pull all nighters. I would give it credit for illustrating my dedication to my craft.

Mr. Postscript: Don’t get me started on Drake’s work ethic.

Mr. Postscript: The thought that you and Drake might actually have a lot in common is quite unsettling.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Really, anything else we share besides a coffee addiction and ambition?

Mr. Postscript: Well, you both are child prodigies in a way. For all our differences, I can’t deny Drake has done much for father’s company at a young age and you have created a whole brand for yourself at only sixteen.

Mr. Postscript: I’d never thought about the logistics of balancing schoolwork and commissions. Is it difficult?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I mean, yes and no. There have been times when I stretched myself too thin and paid the price in sleepless nights. But that’s the perks on being your own boss I guess. I just learned to pace the commissions and be selective with my clientele. It’s worked pretty good so far.

Mr. Postscript: That’s a relief to hear. However I hope my order didn’t come in a bad time. Did you already have a lot on your plate?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Nah, I usually keep the holiday season light so I have time to make Christmas gifts. Although, I suppose that’s not as much of a concern this year.

Mr. Postscript: Oh?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Quite a few classmates have been crossed from the Christmas list this year.

Mr. Postscript: I see.

Mr. Postscript: I don’t know whether I feel happy or upset for you.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Ha! Me neither.

Mr. Postscript: I suppose it is both then. I am happy that you are standing up for yourself but upset that they have forced you to.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Thanks Damian. I can’t help but feel a bit like I’m being petty.

Mr. Postscript: Petty is a word people use when they hold you to a higher standard than themselves.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Now I want to put that on a t-shirt!

Mr. Postscript: Hm. I would order one.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Really? You’d match shirts with me?

Mr. Postscript: Well, no. I wouldn’t wear it around you per se, I don’t think I’d pull it off as well. However, I’d happily parade it in front of my brothers.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: You know what I’ll take it.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Shelving that design for now, let’s get back to Drake’s sweater. So I got a general sense of his taste from the pictures you sent me although I already see I’ll have to take some liberties when it comes to fabric because these pieces don’t look like they were made particularly for comfort and that’s a priority here right?

Mr. Postscript: Yes. I trust your judgement when it comes to fabric.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Great! All that’s left is the design and for once I actually have an idea right off the back.

Mr. Postscript: Is that so? Consider me impressed.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Well, it all hinges on Drake being as big of a coffee lover as you make him out to be.

Mr. Postscript: Trust me angel, coffee addict is literally Drake’s personality. I don’t know how that’s possible but he managed it.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Okay. It’s time then.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I’ve had this idea in the back of my mind for a while now and I’ve never taken the time to fully develop it but if I pull it off it may well be the greatest piece I ever produce.

Mr. Postscript: And of course, it goes to Drake. He’ll never let that go.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I’d hope not. He should feel honored to be the recipient. T.G.Y.T.T.B.: However, I’ll need two things from you to make this work.

Mr. Postscript: Well?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I’ll need you to take a picture of your brother’s coffee, after he’s poured and added whatever he adds (although if he’s truly a coffee addict that won’t be much).

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: It is CRUCIAL that you make sure to show me the exact shade he drinks, understand?

Mr. Postscript: Now you’re even starting to sound like him when he’s in a coffee-crazed state.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Do. You. Understand?

Mr. Postscript: Yes. I can do that. What else?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Right, I’m gonna need you to trust me on this, okay? The design is going to be so much more than meets the eye so I’m not going to show you any drawing or photos before you get it in the mail, okay? T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I know that’s kind of a lot to ask but I think you’ll understand why in the end.

Mr. Postscript: …

Mr. Postscript: I’m not going to pretend any of this isn’t ridiculously strange but since you obviously know what you’re doing and Drake actually loves a good mystery, I’ll allow it. Use your idea.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Yay! You won’t regret it!

Mr. Postscript: So is that all you need?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Yup, Grayson’s sweater is already started, I’ll go shopping for the materials for Jason’s jacket tomorrow, and Drake’s can be started as soon as I get that picture of the coffee.

Mr. Postscript: That won’t take long. I should have it to you by tomorrow at the latest.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Great!

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Um, Damian. I really have to go. There’s an akuma.

Mr. Postscript: Yes. I got an alert. I signed up for them when you mentioned the situation. Is it close? T.G.Y.T.T.B.: it will be ill text you tomorrow okay?

Mr. Postscript: Yes. Be safe.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: thx bye1

From:[email protected]

To:[email protected]

Date:November 10, 2021 7:00 P.M.

Subject: (No Subject)

Postscript: I would like you to know that I found your use of the phrase “Pardon my English” after swearing to be the pinnacle of comedy and would like to request permission to use this myself someday? - Damian

From:[email protected]

To:[email protected]

Date:November 11, 2021 7:30 A.M.

Subject: RE: (No Subject)

P.S. Permission granted. :)

- Marinette

Hello Tumblr! It’s been a while, sorry for that. Life has been a rollercoaster these last few weeks and unfortunately not the kind that only goes up my friends. On to better news however, this chapter being posted means Tumblr is finally caught up to where the story is at on AO3. Even better, chapter ten is mostly finished. Everything is written and now I just have to go over and edit it one last time. I do plan on posting it today which feels so weird to say because writing this chapter was so different than my usual experience. It totally breaks my usual chapter structure and I feel like I wrote it at a snail’s pace. Here’s hoping it will have been worth the wait! I’ll see you again soon but as always AO3 will be updated first! <3

Master List

#MariBat #Daminette #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Damian Wayne #FanFiction

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madasthesea · 4 years

Note

I’m sorry for being so mean. I had a really bad day and didn’t mean to say such awful things. But I am frustrated my fics always get ignored, especially by the big names in the fandom such as yourself that claim to support everyone. I’ve written so many fics in this fandom and have been doing so for over a year, yet I only have 30 subscribers. I get really frustrated and feel like I’m a bad writer because everyone ignores me and my fics. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m sorry.

(2/2) For a fan community that claims they are inclusive, everyone sure doesn’t act that way. Everyone already has their friends and people like me who don’t have many friends get ignored. The big names in the fandom don’t support or read the fics by the new people. It’s not just me. I’ve never received a single kudo or comment from you or anyone else that’s popular like you. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong but people don’t read my fics.

Ok, I’m answering this in the middle of the night in the hopes that not a lot of people will see it so it won’t become A Thing and then as soon as this fic exchange is over I am turning my anons off forever. Anon, I guess I have to give you credit for coming to apologize, but I have to say, where before I was perfectly capable of laughing off your extremely rude message, I have to say, now I’m annoyed. Because there is not a single instance or bad day or frustration that makes what you said acceptable. You came into my inbox and threw a temper tantrum because you knew my name and I happen to have anons on unlike most of the “fandom big names.” You told me I had the worst fics in the fandom, told me I publish outlines instead of stories and accused me of writing incestual pedophilia because you had a bad day? I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you’re young because that is the only possible excuse I could give you. As I said in my original response, if I were already an anxious writer, you could have caused me to delete all of my fics and put me off of writing forever. Someone commented on your original message and said that they don’t post their writing because of messages like that one. You’re right you shouldn’t have taken it out on me, and you wouldn’t have if your name had been associated with it. But here we are, and I’m going to try to make it so this never happens again, at least with the two of us.

Now, onward to your frustrations. I am sorry that you aren’t getting the attention you want, but one) yelling at me on anon isn’t going to fix that. Two) not to be like callous and insensitive, but that happens to almost every writer I know. I’ve been writing fanfiction for 12 years. This is the seventh fandom I’ve written for and no one ever read my fics before this. My first year on AO3 I published six stories and had 500 views total. I get the frustration, but sometimes you just have to get the perfect combination of exposure, plot, and interest. Three) Do you have any idea how many stories get published in the Peter Parker & Tony Stark tag a day? I’m sorry, I can’t read all of them. I don’t want to read all of them, in fact I have 14 different tags blacklisted. Just because I am a “big name” does not mean I owe you a comment or a kudos. If I like your story, I will tell you. Chances are, I haven’t even seen one of your stories, because I’m an adult with a job and hobbies and writing of my own to do. Most of the “big names” are the exact same except a lot of them also have school. If you want someone to read your stories, ask them. Say “hey, I respect you and your opinion, could you look at this for me?” They will probably say yes unless they have a good reason not to. Don’t just sit there and wait for it to happen and get mad when it doesn’t. Also, this is the third time someone has yelled at me for not reading or commenting on their fics and it makes me less inclined to leave kudos in general in case someone comes and gets mad that I read their fic but didn’t comment. So uh… don’t do this again.

As for the community, do you want to know how to make friends? Send asks (nice ones) not on anon. We can’t interact with you if you don’t know who you are. Reblog our fics. Comment on our posts. You can’t make friends if no one knows you exist. And the only way to show you exist is show yourself in our notes, in our inboxes. Sitting in your corner of tumblr and being bitter isn’t going to help anyone. This fandom is welcoming and it is kind and it is supportive. You saw how many people came to my defense tonight. If you talk to those people, they’ll talk back, but they can’t reach out to every single Irondad blog, it just isn’t feasible.

And finally, how to get your fics read more. Like I said, part of it is just… luck. I got in at the very beginning, as did losingmymindtonight, parkrstark, several others, and had already established myself before IW came out and the fandom got bigger. Lucky break on my part, but I’m also a good writer because I’m 25 and I have a Master’s in a writing heavy field and I’ve been writing my entire life. Sometimes it just takes practice. But there is stuff that all good fics have in common, so here we go:

1) Good grammar, good spelling, good punctuation.

I don’t know who you are so I have no idea what your writing is like, but this is stuff I had to tell college students as a teacher, so I’m just going to go over it.

Are there line breaks between every paragraph? No? There need to be. It’s hard to read when all of the words are bunched together, meaning automatic exits will happen, regardless of content.

Do you start a new paragraph every single time a new person speaks? You should.

“When someone is speaking,” I asked, “do you put a comma before the speech tag?” Commas, not periods. Not periods then commas. Punctuation goes inside the quotation marks.

Are you writing in first or second person (I or you)? Don’t.

Pay attention to your tenses. It is very confusing reading a story that switches tenses every sentence.

Are you capitalizing the beginning of every sentence and proper noun? You have to. Reading all lowercase takes energy and concentration and readers don’t like to put more effort in than they’re used to. Also it’s just pointless.

Get a beta reader. Get grammarly (but the free version, don’t pay) or another editing service. Google anything you have a question about. EDIT YOUR WRITING.

2) New ideas

Every fandom has tropes they love, but not every fic can be a trope fic. Every fic I write is, if not completely new, a spin on a popular trope.

Yes, there are some popular field trip fics, but most of them get lost in the weeds because they are all the same. And most of the people I talk to don’t even like them. (This counts for May dies fics, sensory overload… If you’re going to write it, you have to make it different and you have to make it good.)

Look to other movies or books for ideas, check out irondad-fic-ideas, something. Write something new, something only you can write, and at least some people will notice.

3) Good characterization

Now apparently everything I write is OOC, so maybe I’m not the best person to be giving advice on this :/ (I’m still annoyed. I’m getting over it)

BUT–the best way to write a well-known character is to know the source material. Listen to the way they talk, watch how they move. Ignore fanon. It’s hard, but try. Peter isn’t actually a perpetual ray of sunshine, chatter box 12 year old like we often write him, Tony isn’t 100% sarcasm and incapable of recognizing his own feelings.

If you can hear the character say it in their actual voice, it’s probably a good line.

4) Misc.

Fandom rule of thumb: cute fluff and hardcore whump win out over deep character studies on convoluted plot lines. If you’re just looking for hits or maybe a fic to establish yourself, that’s a good way to do it.

If you’re posting a multi-chapter fic, don’t post it all at once. People will comment on each chapter as you post and you’ll get more hits.

Respond to comments, especially at the early stages. It makes your readers more invested, it builds friendships, and it makes your stats look better.

There’s a blog that supports little known writers in this fandom! Rec your fics there!

Make sure to never, ever put “I suck at summaries” or “fic is better than summary” it is an instant turnoff. If you can’t write the thing that makes me want to read the fic well, why would I think I want to read the fic?

Tagging on AO3 is vital. Tag the right relationships, tag the right emotions (angst, fluff, hurt/comfort). I often sort just by these. Always put in the category, (M/M, F/M, etc.) and the rating. There is no reason not to, but not doing so makes people less likely to read. Always tag triggers.

Never steal fics or ideas. If a story inspires you, you can ask the author if you can write something similar and then link in your story back to theirs. Nothing will make you less popular in a fandom than stealing work.

Lastly, I know authors constantly talk about how important comments and kudos are, and they are so important to bolstering spirits, I get that, but if you aren’t writing for yourself first, you will always be disappointed. You should enjoy your fic as much when you read it in your word doc as when you read it online with comments and kudos. And maybe you write really niche stuff that doesn’t appeal to a lot of people, but churning out carbon copies of the Fandom Tropes and hoping for hits is not going to satisfy you and you will keep being frustrated.

Let’s not do this again, shall we? Next time you have a question, ask me nicely.

#answered #it is 2:30 in the morning but I was so annoyed I couldn't sleep so here we go :)))))#Anonymous

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youngbugandtonystank · 4 years

Note

Please write an irondad post about how peter feels about tony!! I feel like the directors make peter’s view of tony more subtle than Tony’s view of peter and it’d be awesome if you could decode it! ;0

Hi!

God, Tom’s words really got me♥

I’m going to use the movies and novelizations for this, especially the Homecoming novelization since I think no one talks about it and I want to point out certain things.

Ok, check this out:

Tony’s POV:

Peter's voice was as exuberant and light as ever, something Tony both secretly admired and feared. This battle would be no place for someone as green and unbroken as Peter Parker.

Tony smiled as Peter stood tall in the center.

"Yeah, that makes sense" Peter said, and Tony's heart broke. Even hanging off the side of a spaceship hurtling into space, seconds from dying, Peter Parker was still just open and trusting as he'd always been.

Peter’s POV:

"What if she’s expecting someone like Tony Stark? I mean, imagine how disappointed she’d be when she sees me."

dorks.

I just wanted to be like you.

And I wanted you to be better.

You know that feeling you get when you admire someone and at the same time, you feel like you can actually understand them? Yeah, this is them. They work like a mirror. This is how Peter feels, just like Tony sees himself in the kid, Peter identifies himself in Tony. Peter and Tony both react the same way when it comes to their relationship. They both think the other is ‘better’ and at the same time, they can understand each other pretty well.

Tony’s POV:

At the same time, Tony knew there was nothing he could do to keep Peter away. Just like Tony, Peter had a code.

Peter’s POV:

Of course, Mr. Stark hadn't believed him. He'd seen right through him.

Peter has stated before that Tony made him feel okay and normal, something he never thought he’d feel again. He knows that if he gets Tony’s approval then he gets to feel that normalcy again. He feels understood.

It was probably the only place in the city where I fit in. You had your overachievers, genius-level-yet-stressed-out-obsessive-compulsives, inventors of the Next Big Thing, all with at least one overblowing backpack, all wiling in to forge new ground and show the world that nerds really would inherit the earth. I was surrounded by students showing off their newest advances in AI technology, “rebels” furiously hacking their way to exposing corruption online, friends discussing string theory, and the probabilities of Stephen Hawking’s multiverse.

This is how Peter thinks of himself, he thinks his school is probably the only place he fits in. I think I mentioned this before in my homecoming analysis but Peter’s need to be an Avenger is because 1. he truly wants to make a difference, 2.he’s bored, he’s a genius kid and school is not doing enough for him anymore and 3. he feels like Tony is the only one that can understand him.

I don’t understand exactly why but some people think Peter is dumb. He can be clumsy sometimes but this kid is a genius and he understands the struggles of having a brain like his.

“Do geniuses know how normal things like backpacks even work?“

“Yes, we are familiar,“ Peter replied with a weak smile. If only she knew...

“Right as always,” Ms. Warren said, her praise causing Flash to stare daggers at me. Whatever.

“Yeah, my parents feel guilty working all the time, you guys would really get along, Peter” Her joke hit a little close to home, and I looked down a little.

He looked from the ship to the other kids on the bus to see if anyone else saw it. Nothing. Just him. As usual.

Peter not only wants the understanding that comes from Tony, but he also wants someone he can relate to. And I’m not talking about money or fame, I’m talking something deeper.

When they were on the plane, Peter criticized Tony’s choice of food as if telling him that what he was eating wasn’t enough to be considered ‘food’ and then proceeded to only have some juice and sleep the rest of the trip because he recklessly pulled an all-nighter. lmao irondad stans you guys are always accurate with your fics.

Also, are you really going to tell me that this is not what a relationship between a father and a son look like?

"I really don't want to sound like my old man here. Look, kid, Just forget the flying man. Stay closer to the ground in Queens, build up your game helping the little people. You know, like the old lady who bought you that churro." That churro. Happy had told him everything. "Look, Tony—uh, Mr. Stark," I started. --

My suit agreed. "It does seem unwise. Trespassers are prosecuted. Or shot' "It's worse than that—if they find me in here, Mr. Stark is gonna kill me!" I started to panic. I had to get out of here! --

"Okay, sorry, Mr. Stark" I sighed. "I know you said to keep a low profile, but I gotta get out" I started banging on the door.

Tony Stark's words echoed in my head: Keep doing what you're doing, saving the little people.... Except these weren't just the little people"—they were my friends. As long as they were safe, everything would be okay. I didn't need to wait for that call to be an Avenger. I was already Spider-Man.

I just love how they unconsciously treated each other like family.

Peter, just like any other teenager, looks for validation from people he admires. In the Homecoming Novelization Peter congratulates himself every time he does something good and loves it when it comes from Tony for the same reasons I listed before.

Finally, we pulled up a safe distance from the apartment, so we didn’t attract too much attention. We sat in some seriously awkward silence for a moment before Mr. Stark finally said something.“Ya did good, kid,”

“I did good? I did good!“

“It’s yours,” Stark replied. “You earned it.” My heart was going a mile a minute. “Awesome!”

Look at them mirroring each other when it comes to them and how they feel.

Peter’s POV

“Yeah, and pretty soon it’s going to lead to a real job with him,” I said, trying to convince both him and myself.

Something really cute about them is that they both are exactly as you guys picture them in fanfics. They don’t say each other’s first name but think of each other that way.

Peter’s POV

“I thought I was gonna freeze up after Tony yelled out ‘Underoos.”

That churro. Happy had told him everything. "Look, Tony—uh, Mr. Stark," I started.

Tony’s POV

Tony had only continued onto the ship because he felt certain that he'd gotten Peter safely out of harm's way.

"Kid! Where'd you come from?" Iron Man asked, his voice sounding a little too relieved and grateful for his taste.

They refuse to call each other by their names even if in IW they already had a more solid relationship than in HOCO, for them it’s ‘Kid’ and ‘Mr. Stark’. They even have other nicknames, as you already know but one of the cutest nicknames is ‘boss man’. Tom Holland calls RDJ that in real life and they used that nickname in the novelization.

When RDJ said this:

The amount of betrayal Stark has had to deal with and what it's like to try and open up to someone new. The actor points out that Peter is young and that treachery comes with age. That his character is more willing to trust Peter because of his age. And how the relationship was established in the previous film when Tony shuts Peter down after he's been hurt. Not a move Tony would've done with most of the other Avengers, expecting them to push through just as he would.

He’s absolutely right, as you can see, they both banter but at the same time Tony opens up to Peter without hesitation.

trust

"So where are you?" I asked, looking around suspiciously. I half expected to see a drone In the sky spying on me.

"India." came the response. "I thought I'd hit up a Hindu temple. Center myself. That sort of thing."

banter

"Thank God this place has WI-Fi or you would have drowned."

"I had a strategy." I did not have a strategy.

'What, to die and fight him in the afterlife?"

Another example of them mirroring each other is in IW. It's been said in the novels that Tony making Peter an Avenger when did was something he considered a big choice and major sacrifice. He truly didn’t want him on the team, not because he thought Peter wasn’t capable, but because he wasn’t ready for Peter to be that. Meanwhile, Peter, who knows Tony is pretty much capable on his own, said he stuck himself to the side of the ship in IW because he thought about Tony.

The same level of protectiveness, same thoughts.

Like a mirror.

Also how cute are Peter’s thoughts about Liz?

Liz walked by with the rest of the Homecoming committee, and the entire world seemed to melt away around her.

“It’s working for her.” I stared at her outfit and agreed that it was definitely working for her. OUR SPIDEY BOI IS FLIRTY AF

She was thinking of me. The warm fuzzies started.

Liz defending Peter from Flash?:

“I can’t believe we’re catering to him. We don’t need this dork.” Good. There was my opening to break it to them that—“As team captain, I disagree,” Liz cut in.

"No way!" he objected. "You can't just quit on us and then turn around and stroll up here and—" "Flash. Liz cut him off, her voice leaving no doubt as to who the captain was.

Liz smiled at me as I took my seat. Don't blush. Don't blush. I blushed and gave a small smile back as I settled in next to Ned for the trip to Washington, DC.

And Peter’s eternal beef with Betty either sharing Ned or with Spider-Man. I love for this friendship lmao

#irondad #spiderson #tony stark #peter parker #mcu #marvel #tom holland #rdj #endg #infinity war #homecoming

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renaroo · 4 years

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That Time Ted Kord and Barbara Gordon Invented Sexting in the DCU

[Birds of Prey (1999-2009) #25]

There’s a lot of things I would like to end the decade on, and I’ve got a Cassandra Cain post I want to get up, but I am called to talk about one of the most important, most obscure parts of the DC Universe that happened 20 years ago. Also I’m shameless and encouraged by @secretlystephaniebrown and @shobogan so here we go.

DC, and most comics really, have this bad habit of minimizing or erasing past relationships of characters in order to “simplify” romantic narratives with an endgame pair.

In some ways, I suppose I get it. There is a certain joy I can take from the notions of pure love and meant to be, and with these two characters in particular -- Ted Kord (Blue Beetle II) and Barbara Gordon (Batgirl I/Oracle) -- I have very passionate feelings toward other pairings with them.

But my god. What is lost in the world and in your perspective on both of these characters if you do not know their history together. No, seriously! It’s great!

Ted and Babs are both well established nerds in the DCU even before the 90s. On every team Ted’s a part of he is one-half prankster and one-half tech support, to his continued chagrin. And Babs’ technical skills and eidetic memory are among her most famous traits, even when she was the Batgirl of the Bronze Age.

By the 90s both of them had also been through a lot -- Ted had gained and lost a dozen teams it felt like by that point, Barbara had survived her attack by the Joker but had only begun to establish herself more widely in the superhero community as Oracle, and the Birds of Prey were literally just starting out.

Babs had Dinah, but was still not revealing her identity to Dinah, she needed a friend. And, online in a techie forum, she made one:

[Birds of Prey (1999-2009) #2]

This friendship blossoms for a while as purely digital space across quite a few issues -- a lot of good issues of the early Chuck Dixon run which is an under-read treat these days, I feel. It still has its... Dixon on it, but the characters are great and this relationship is just one example of them.

Ted helps Babs out quite a bit and finally, they’re ready to meet in person.

[Birds of Prey (1999-2009) #15]

They’re honestly adorable, and pretty much instantly know each other’s identities. For one, Babs knows all the identities on the Justice League roster. For two, Ted can put together pretty quickly what tech-related superhero would have access to that kind of information.

For three, they went to a meet up in color coordination with their hero identities. Which of course is protocol in comics but still.

Point stands.

Ted stays in the picture for a long time after this, he’s a good friend and confidante to Babs and they’re genuinely interested in each other’s company. Platonically or romantically? It doesn’t seem to really matter until it’s finally the end of a long and tough arc, and Ted is forced back into wearing his Beetle suit again.

And they have a serious conversation about their relationship that ends like most interactions with Ted do: a good laugh.

[Birds of Prey (1999-2009) #25]

Ted and Babs actually relied on each other a lot as friends after that. Ted was Beetle on and off again, but Babs could tell that something was up and was firm in pushing Ted to go to a doctor to get himself looked at.

If she hadn’t, Ted could’ve gone without treatment for a severe heart condition that had already cost him 3 heart attacks without him realizing it.

[Birds of Prey (1999-2009) #40]

And, the first person he tells, is Babs.

[Birds of Prey (1999-2009) #41]

Unfortunately, about this time is where comics get. Weird and difficult because as writers move books or even just as storylines naturally shift for bigger parts of the stories, things get dropped unless it’s picked up elsewhere.

A few comics like Formerly Known as the Justice League (2003-2004) would call back to their relationship and it would be in the pseudoromantic and fun banter that had had for the 90s and early 2000s, but it never picked up as a focus again.

[Formerly Known as. Justice League (2003-2004) #5]

By 2006, Ted was dead, murdered by Max Lord after he got on the right trail for what was happening with Checkmate and the OMAC Project that Bruce had on the back burner. And he was alone, after almost all of the superhero community ignored or downplayed the importance of what he was finding (except for Booster).

Unfortunately, that included Barbara.

She’s not outright dismissive and she’s not cruel or condescending to him in the ways other heroes are at the final hour, but her attention is elsewhere. They grew apart from where they were, Ted’s reputation was at an all time low to other heroes while Babs’ and the Birds of Prey were at their height.

So she gave him the final clues that would lead to the discovery of OMAC. And would send Ted to his death.

[Countdown to Infinite Crisis (2005) #1]

One thing I do appreciate, though, is that unlike a lot of comic character deaths, Ted’s did actually have impact, and it had it for years. Especially for those closest to him.

I could (and probably should) do an entire history lesson on Booster Gold and the impact their relationship has had over the years, but we’ll stick with Babs here, because Babs was allowed to grieve and honor her friend, too.

Something that wouldn’t happen in the future with other characters important to Babs’ life.

Ted was special, though, and Birds of Prey knew that and had an issue that spent a lot of very good time honoring that and his history with Babs and the rest of the team.

Which is where we get our confirmation that Babs and Ted were Cyber-Doing it before it was ever popular in one of my favorite exchanges of all time

[Birds of Prey (1999-2006) #96]

Now, am I going to wax poetically about the tragedy of Babs and Ted’s forgotten fling to force the diehards into multishipping admittance with my undeniable canon fact?

Yes.

I mean no! Not really -- I’m a diehard Boostle shipper who doesn’t budge for much and my shipping opinions for Babs are pretty firm as well.

What I’m attempting to get at here is that they have a good history, that their characters and understanding their relationships with others, make them more interesting and complex characters with fun and joy to be explored in multiple angles, even when you have your penned, perfect ending for them.

And I think erasing that in favor of perpetuating this idea that people come out of the womb with this set romantic path that any deterrence there from has to be either meaningless or actively horrible is at best less fun you can be having in these expansive universes, and at worst actively hurtful to people’s world views and expectations.

But also.

Babs and Ted were actively sexting in 1999 and that is an important - neigh, historically significant -- event in the wider DCU so.

Booster Gold has to have a storyline someday where he has to save this moment from never happening. And I will co-write it with you, Dan Jurgens, please.

#Barbara Gordon #Ted Kord #Oracle #Blue Beetle #Batgirl #DC comics #meta #long post #Rants of Unusual Size #opinions opinions opinions #Birds of Prey (1999 2009)#Formerly Known as the Justice League (2003 2004)#Countdown to Infinite Crisis (2005)#hilarious #character death tw #sex tw #kinda #They Cyber Did It

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drunk-and-howling · 4 years

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Strike Swiftly || Layla & Salva

TIMING: 2-3 days ago PARTIES: @laylacooke, @drunk-and-howling SUMMARY: Layla bears her heart and pleads for help, and Salva vows to protect her. A heartwarming friendship ensues. CONTENT WARNINGS: Light blood/injury

It was two days before the full moon, and Salva was feeling eerily calm, like the heavy clouds before a storm. He prowled down the sidewalk, reaching into his pocket to retrieve his Zippo and a cigarette, as his mind considered what was going to happen in 48 hours… he'd have to make some preparations around the house to wolf-proof everything, but he had some time. Salva was lost in thought as he came up on that vegan restaurant, unaware of anyone leaving.

Layla had dropped into her favorite spot for a bite of lunch. After Ari had taken her there on the very first day they had met, the good memories and good food seemed to draw her back for more. However, as she walked out of the small cafe with her veggie burrito in hand, the redhead ran directly into a man walking near the door. Burrito hitting the ground, and Layla feeling slightly embarrassed, she quickly looked up to apologize, until she had recognized the man’s face from online, “Dude, you made me drop my burrito.” With a small pout, she bent down and picked it up, grateful it or hadn’t completely spilled out of the container it was wrapped in. She could still salvage it.

Suddenly, his route was interrupted by someone exiting the establishment (go figure that someone was leaving right as he passed). Salva started to growl something ill-tempered at her when her scent hit him like a brick wall, and his grumpy snarl subsided into animal curiosity. "Oh, sorry," he said absently, watching as she bent to pick up her food - why did this girl smell (and look) so familiar? Salva's head tilted slightly, and he leaned further toward her as she straightened, giving her another deep sniff. "... Do I know you?"

Once Layla was upright and her food was tucked safely in her grip, she let her attention focus back on Salva. She had ignored the growl, but it did alert her to the fact that he was like her, well that and a very strong and familiar scent that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. With narrowed eyes, she looked back up at him, “It’s cool, and I…don’t think so. But you totes have one of those faces.” Realizing where she had seen him, she paused for a moment, “Now, I know why you look familiar. I’ve seen your picture online. You’re that old creepy dude who acted like a total douche when I tried to warn you about the mimes.”

Her manner made Salva instantly regret spending one of his rare apologies on her. She was definitely a wolf, that much was already certain, and he supposed he was a fool for assuming she'd be meek and apologetic like some of the other wolves around town. The older werewolf raised an eyebrow at her, and he paused to take a long drag from his cigarette. "I see that my reputation precedes me," Salva answered in a deadpan tone, hardly amused at her insults but altogether numb to them. "Where do you come from? Parents?" This can't be her….

“Ah, there it is.” For some reason, she wasn’t afraid of him. It was quite the opposite. Most of the other wolves she had encountered, she was intimidated by, especially Ulfric, but Salva was different. He just kind of pissed her off, and she couldn’t quite figure out why. “You know those things will kill you right?” She motioned to the cigarette, “But why am I even telling you this.” Why did he want to know where she was from or who her parents were? Did he know something or was he sent to...Wait. Layla sniffed the air again. She knew that scent. It had been repressed, aside from catching wind of it on herself. But it couldn’t be him. She didn’t even see his face, “Why do you want to know where I’m from? That’s a little weird…”

That was it… what he was looking for. A flash of recognition in Layla's face, a brief haunting, which told him everything he needed to know. Suddenly an event from long ago slammed into Salva, and he eased back into a position of relaxation, flashing his teeth in a smile. "Why does everyone I meet these days tell me what I should do with my lungs?" the man mused, and confidence oozed from his tone. "I don't need you to tell me where you're from. Your parents were those hunters in the mountains." Salva spoke quietly, but intensely, watching Layla's face for a reaction. "You're that girl that I bit all that time ago."

The light from her eyes disappeared and her expression turned cold, “It wasn’t years...It was eleven months ago. Eleven months ago when you ruined my life and turned me into...into this thing.” Tears filled the brims of her eyes and showed through her steely gaze. This was the man, no, monster that had ruined her life. Her chance at being a normal teenager who had big plans for college, despite her parents path laid out. And all he could do was stand there with a smug grin on his face. A grin that she was quickly coming to hate, and before she could even think about what she was doing, Layla moved in, pulled back a firm fist, and laid it straight into Salva’s face as hard as she possibly could with all the pent up rage and wolf energy that resided in her tiny body.

That punch was not at all what Salva was expecting. The cigarette flew from his mouth, and he was sent staggering back, nearly falling over if not for his experience in confrontation. Once he recovered and stood, shoulders hunched in the middle of the sidewalk, Salva touched his face with two fingers, and felt blood. She just broke his fucking nose. Luckily the lunch crowd had subsided, and what few people surrounded them quickly walked away so they wouldn't be involved. Salva wiped the blood off of his face and snarled at her. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't-" Then, something made him stop. His expression turned from rage to confusion. "Who the hell taught you how to punch that hard?"

She watched as he staggered backwards. It would have been more satisfying had he just went down, but when she had noticed that she had done some damage, Layla was pleased with herself. Violence wasn’t her thing. It never had been, but ever since becoming a wolf, she couldn’t seem to get away from it, which had broken her heart in more ways than one. She wasn’t exactly the same gentle person, she was before all of this had started on that fateful night. Knowing she was probably in trouble, she watched him closely preparing herself to run, until he stopped and posed a question, “Are you forgetting that my parents were hunters? Or could it be that because you’re technically my wolf daddy, that maybe, just maybe, you’re the reason…” It was probably a lot of things. Anger. Sadness. Frustration. She didn’t know much about Salva, except for what he had done to her that night.

Salva considered her information, blood already beginning to drip from his chin. He supposed it was accurate that her lycanthropy was founded in the Sauvage blood, and that meant she was already ahead of the game from the common mutts running around… it made sense that she had a certain strength already. If funneled correctly, this girl could be quite a force to be reckoned with, an unending wealth of destructive potential. Salva titled his chin upwards and stared at her unblinkingly. "I have to say, I'm impressed with your spunk. It takes balls to punch someone like me in the face." He took a step closer to her, retrieving another cigarette and reaching up to light it. "What's your name, pup?"

Layla hadn’t expected him to react the way he had. He seemed more interested in her than he did the night he bit her and left her for dead. The redhead still bore the massive scar on her leg from where his fangs had ripped into her flesh. A painful reminder every time she noticed it. “Yeah, well I kinda hoped this day would come considering how you ruined my life.” Meeting Salva in person had given her a bit of relief though. The punch was cathartic, to say the least, and something she had needed. “It’s Layla. Guess you already know my last name.” She crossed her arms and continued to look him square in the face. None of the usual signs of submissiveness and respect to be found.

Salva couldn’t help but feel a little bit of pride at the hatred in her tone… he remembered that night just like she did, but to him, it was one encounter of hundreds in his lifetime, hardly worth recollecting the details. But now, his creation stood in front of him, for once, and she might as well have been a trophy of his hunter-hunting successes… living proof that his Gevaudan ancestry would live on. “Layla,” the older werewolf repeated, and the syllables rumbled from deep in his throat like a snarl. “I am Salva du Sauvage.” He took another step closer, not for one moment breaking that crucial eye contact… this little wolf had to realize who was the alpha here, no matter how stubborn she was being. “I think you and I are going to become good friends. But the next time you try to attack me, I’d prepare for a little different result, if I were you.”

When he spoke his name, a lightbulb had gone off in her head. She knew exactly who he was. A werewolf her parents had strongly urged her to be aware of. He was a member of some of the most fearsome wolves known to man; the Gevaudan line of heritage. No wonder rage was a constant in her small form now. Sure, she had every reason to be angry, but there seemed to be a smaller nagging that lay just a little further down. Arms still crossed, she held her ground as he moved in closer. While she resented him, Layla knew she could learn a lot from him, but for now, she wanted to be away from him and the way he made her feel. With gritted teeth, she responded, “Understood.” But she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of leaving first. Shoving her shoulder into him as hard as she could with a low growl, Layla moved past him. Her heart was beating hard in her chest from both nerves and anger, but she had gotten answers to a lot of questions that had been plaguing her mind for so long thanks to their chance encounter, and only time would tell where all of this would lead.

Figuring she would prefer to leave first, Salva allowed her to, and stood steadfast as Layla walked past him and made sure their shoulders collided. Once she was melting back into the clusters of civilians, the older wolf's expression split apart in an uneven grin, teeth so tightly clamped on his cigarette that the thing was nearly chopped in half. What a perfect thing this was, meeting Layla like this. Salva rolled his shoulders, wiped his face off with his arm, and set off down the sidewalk in the opposing direction. Yes, she'll be a fine pup to teach, Salva thought, taking a deep drag and inhaling the smoke into the sunny afternoon air. And if she isn't... just add her to the body count.

#wickedswriting #with: layla

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kaiamcrgan · 4 years

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⌠ COURTNEY EATON, 22, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, KAIA MORGAN! according to their records, they’re a THIRD year, specializing in ADVANCED ENCRYPTION + RESEARCH & DEVELOPMENT; and they DID NOT go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of ( messy black hair, chipped polish nails, can of energy drink, baggy knitted sweatshirt, saccharine hum of weezer's island in the sun ). when it’s the virgo’s birthday on 9/18/1997, they always request their CREAMY SPINACH PIZZA from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation.

I have no shame and just copy paste lol did i edit? absolutely not ehehe but love me. [ @gallagherintro ]

trigger warning: abduction mention

HISTORY

KAIA MORGAN was a descendant of one of the biggest landowners and stewards in Oahu, Hawaii. Her family’s goal was to procure land to build eco-friendly business establishments that would provide livelihood to the community and at the same time, shoo away land developers that could possibly abuse and eradicate the island’s natural resources. Eventually, they also tapped into government services because well, people loved the Morgans.

Despite the good nature of the family’s legacy, it could get a little messy behind the scenes. Business tycoons came and gave them offers to flat out some hills and cut down trees to build hotels and factories that could possibly poison the sea. Some of these people had been aggressive, threats had been made and even went beyond crazy just to get what they want. When throwing rocks with notes at their home was not enough, they thought that abducting eight year old Kaia would shake them off from where they stood.

Through special services, Kaia was swiftly recovered from her abductors, people involved where stripped off of their business permits and served their jail time but it left Kaia permanent emotional and mental scars. There was no getting over that. At least, not for a very long time.

The incident left her being overly cautious of her surroundings, she avoided talking to people, too scared to put her trust in someone. She had been constantly felt being watched, if not by her family’s enemies, it would be by bodyguards her father hired to casually look after her. They almost didn’t bother her but having them around made her feel uncomfortable but she really couldn’t complain because she knew it was for her protection.

It was when she turned to something that didn’t really require social interaction, the internet. For the time being, it made her happy, forget her childhood trauma and help her gain friends through playing online games and joining forums that stimulates her opinions on current pressing issues. It became her comfort zone. She get to open up to people who she didn’t personally meet only know her by her username.

Came high school graduation and Kaia did not exactly know what to do. She was done with the hellish years of her life and she was not ready to jump into another hellfire. While she was learning the ropes of the good and the dark side of the world by web, she was sort of disconnected in real life. Her mother would get in fights with her, whining at how she was wasting her life away as she all she ever wanted was to play video games and keep her virtual connection strong.

Her fight with her mother had gotten worse when they found an acceptance letter to this Ivy League she didn’t really apply for. Turns out, her bodyguards were Gallagher bred and they did more than just looked after her.

It wasn’t like it didn’t pick her interest. In fact, she did her own research. Though it was something she might have been interested in, she didn’t think she was cut for that.

AT GALLAGHER….

At first glance, it was obvious that Kaia wasn’t really the ideal embodiment of a Gallagher girl if one would simply judge her by her demeanor. It didn’t mean she didn’t earn her place.

Surely, she had struggled fitting in but it wasn’t new to her. Surprisingly, she had like it. It was a far cry from any educational constitution she had been before. It also helped that it was a little exclusive so she didn’t really feel a lot of pressure when it came to social interactions

She had a lot of firsts in Gallagher and whether she admits it or not, she was glad her family encouraged her to go to Roseville. She was not sure if her parents were fully aware of where they sent her off too but really, it wasn’t that bad.

PERSONALITY

Kaia is very timid, doesn’t speak much and from time to time, she stutters but she is trying her best alright. Getting two sentences was a little bit too much for her already until she is already comfortable with you because she will ramble a lot.

Kaia keeps people at arms length although it doesn’t really last long because she likes attention ( although she didn’t like being in the spotlight ). Opening up is not something she would do and she would rather not have an conversation that revolves around her.

Kaia is unfortunately a pushover. She will probably do things for you as long as you leave her alone afterwards.

Kaia is either hyper-focused or slipping her attention into something else mid-conversation. She is focused too much when she does something like swimming or drawing that she gets a little lost in it and during normal conversation, she will probably stop you from talking because she saw a cat passed by.

Her humor is so bad (or the way she delivers it ). Almost every joke she crack, she almost regret saying it. Most of the time she laughs at her own jokes and puns.

She is very moody and one person probably can’t tell because she is meek.

Kaia can be easily motivated just as she is easily demotivated. Despite being smart, she has very low opinion about herself. She had a tendency to give up easily when things didn’t go as plan.

MORE FACTS

She is 5′10 and hates it. She slouches a lot because she doesn’t like to draw attention.

She has a fat Russian blue cat at home named Meowth and has a picture of him on her bedside table.

Kaia doesn’t really express herself much so she pours it all in her journal with unfinished songs and drawings. She has more patience in texting than engaging in a conversation, with the exception of people she was very comfortable with.

Honestly, Kaia is a little spoiled. She struggles with keeping her room tidy because she was used of someone cleaning after her.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

BEST FRIEND ( 0/1) - Kaia only met them during her first year since she didn’t really have friends in high school. If not, then they were someone she met online and when they met

MOM/DAD FRIEND ( 0/?) - Kaia doesn’t really take care of herself so someone has to! She needs a lot of those.

CLOSE FRIEND ( 0/? ) - it could be like study buddy, video game buddy, lab partner, just someone that Kaia tolerates and tolerates Kaia. One of the people she the people she didn’t mind hanging out with, the kind of person PJ can nerd out with.

FRENEMIES ( 0/2 ) - probably someone that annoys Kaia( and probably blackmail her ) into doing their bidding. It could also be a video game buddy that she gained a unhealthy competition with.

EX-FRIEND ( 0/2 ) - the falling of the friendship can be mostly blame of Kaia’s part, like she was probably unavailable when she needed them or they did something that turned Kaia away from them. Or something happened between them that put them in an awkward situation.

EX-SOMEONE ( 0/? ) - the kind of relationship I wanna explore was her first one in which a disaster because Kaia didn’t know what to do so she probably end up avoiding this person. Another is the one that ended ugly, like this person cheated on Kaia. Or something that Kaia thought was serious but just a casual one. Another is one that just simply didn’t work, one of those friends to lovers thing that didn’t work as lovers.

BAD INFLUENCE ( 0/2 ) - Kaia couldn’t avoid being social forever. Basically just an enabler of her curiosity about these sort of things.

MUTUAL FEELINGS ( 0/1 ) - someone she hangs out with, they are not quite a friend but they are special to her. Sometimes they kiss. They cared about each other but there’s no label in it, not after the string of disastrous relationship she had been.

FAMILY ( 0/? ) - self-explanatory really but you know, cousins but not limited to family friend or a relative of her stepfather she had met several times.

ANYTHING UNDER SUN REALLY - we can also always brainstorm if none of the mentioned above really fits

IF you reach this part, you are amazing!!!!!! Like I wouldn’t bother myself most days to be honest. Just reply if you want me to hit your DMs to plot or like hit my dicord at batnips#8030

#gallagher:intro #tw: abduction mention

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yellingmetatron · 4 years

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I Just Need to Get This Out (Political Content Warning)

Now more than ever, I am going to be avoiding politics on Tumblr. This is, with any luck, the last political post I will make on my blogs. It is meant to serve as an explanation of why I’m going to be a lot less tolerant of political content on roleplaying blogs. TL;DR, I don’t fit in on the right or left and I’m fucking tired of seeing politics everywhere. I deal with it at work, and I deal with it at home. I don’t want to deal with it here. I’m going to start unfollowing people when I see it. That doesn’t mean our friendship is over, it doesn’t mean we can’t RP. But I’m so tired of it all. If you want the long explanation, keep reading.

From about middleschool to shortly before the election of the current president I considered myself an ardent conservative. Listing out a lot of my positions, this might have seemed not to be the case: I’m not religious (try as I might to be so). I’m pro-LGTBQ+. I’ve always been a proud member of what Rush Limbaugh used to call the Wetland Gestapo. I think anthropogenic climate change is a real thing. I want pot legalized. I think military interventionism is a mistake in all but the rarest situations (granted this is a more recent position). I think the welfare state is necessary and in places ought to be expanded. I am enthusiastic about multiculturalism. On the other hand, I am pro-religion despite not being religious, and feel religious conservatives shouldn’t be compelled to violate their own religious beliefs as long as it’s not hurting anyone (and my definition of ‘not hurting anyone’ seems to be a bit broader than most progressives). While I’m not anti-union, I think that unions can be corrupt as any other institution, particularly at a national level, and that the Left is too inclined to overlook that. I’m solidly pro Second Amendment. I consider illegal immigration a bad thing (mostly because it’s an excuse to exploit the poor and undocumented). I think “states’ rights” is not just a dogwhistle term for racists, but something that really does need to be taken into account given the way the American republic works. I could have expanded the above to paragraphs, but they’re already ungainly and, I’m sure, a pain to read through. Where am I going with all this? Well, first I wanted to establish that I COULD consider myself “an ardent conservative” while holding a lot of varied opinions (like literally everyone on the planet has). Secondly, I want to establish that I hold all of the above views, and have for some time, while bearing a specific label—right winger. I’ve ended up rejecting that label, and rejecting what for want of a better term I’ll call “the conservative movement”, but my positions haven’t changed. And, most importantly, stopping thinking of myself as a conservative DOES NOT mean I’ve come to think of myself as a progressive. Let me try to tell a story. I’m decent at stories. Metamun in middle school and high school was a lonely creature. He was sick a lot, and pretty socially awkward, although he could make up for it by being funny and knowing some trivia. But he mostly kept to himself. Since being on the bus made him sick (it was at a time of life when people experimented with scents that screwed him up at close quarters) usually his dad picked him up after school. That’s where Metamun picked up his politics, those drives home with dad. Dad listened to a lot of Rush Limbaugh, and so Metamun did too. Metamun was already sort of inclined to conservatism—he had a pessimistic view of the world, distrusting the US government and feeling that people ought to be able to protect themselves (i.e. own guns). Rush did not convert Metamun, but he did affirm Metamun. He didn’t usually say anything that seemed greatly outrageous to Metamun. (Mark that “usually”.) Now, as Metamun was living in suburban New England, it happened that conservative politics did not go unchallenged as they might have, say, farther south. To Metamun it seemed as though he was in a tiny minority, especially where authority figures were concerned. Looking back he’d realize this wasn’t the case— particularly not in terms of his actual views. But remember, Metamun didn’t get out much. And furthermore, although he considered himself conservative, he found he usually didn’t like the company of conservatives— they tended to be less interested in the things he was, like books and acting. So most of his friends and acquaintances tended to be, if not self-identified progressives, at least the kind of people who sneered at conservatives and made the obligatory comparisons of Bush II to Hitler. Because that was who Metamun dealt with day-to-day, he was left with the impression that this was the norm for the society he lived in. Most of what was on TV, with the exceptions of Fox News and South Park, seemed to confirm this. And so Metamun became genuinely terrified of people learning that he was not like the majority. Being homebound so often, Metamun spent a lot of time online. That did nothing to lessen his terror. Lonely as he was, Metamun went looking for conservative blogs. Pajamas Media was the big one, but there were plenty of smaller ones. One important thing he learned was that post 9/11, there were a lot of people who sort of fit his description—socially liberal, but mistrustful of leftist politics for various reasons. Ex-leftists. Neo-Cons.

One important factor was patriotism: It seemed like all progressives genuinely hated the United States on principal. Unflattering and quite often spurious comparisons to other countries seemed to abound on the Left. One of Metamun’s new acquaintances explicitly wrote on their blog that they’d always wondered how the Right “co-opted” patriotism before concluding the Left simply threw it away. This acquaintance, a gay Seattleite, would be a touchstone for Metamun’s sense of political self for some time. During the Tea Party era, the Right genuinely felt more fun and open than the Left. Metamun still felt like an underdog, but also like he was part of a ragtag resistance movement with real emotional bonds. And yet, even with all that, his prime political emotion was fear. (Mark the recurrent theme of fear.) Some of you might see the shape of this narrative and guess that Metamun was fed a steady diet of paranoia by nasty wingnuts. Yes and no. The conservative blogosphere was a scary place—it told him that his basic values were under constant assault. That some of the “basic values” in the package were not actually his was beside the point, because Metamun just generally hated the thought of State force being used to coerce people into violating their own principals. Metamun was happy to fight for values that were not his own, on that account. It did bother him, sometimes, the assumptions conservatives made, but by this time he had gotten used to thinking of himself as a minority, so the majority being different wasn't so jarring. Of course there would be a few differences of opinion. But the Right accepted those differences in the way that surely the Left would not. And he knew that this was true, because he’d seen it with his own eyes. The Left was VICIOUS to conservatives, sometimes in a very personal way. In some ways, sick and often absent though he was, Metamun still got the basic high school experience as he watched insults and worse fly fast and thick. Leftists expressed GLEE at any conservative misfortune. They made absolutely insane comparisons between conservative pundits and Nazis. “Republican” was a punchline to very cruel (and sometimes racist and sexist) jokes. Sometimes they seemed to outright lie. Metamun remembered a novelty song about Satan claim he was “in all Rush Limbaugh’s rants”, and Metamun KNEW that was untrue because he’d been listening to Rush for years and couldn’t recall the man even referencing scripture outside of holidays. Metamun heard people casually cite Glenn Beck as routinely opposing gay marriage when Metamun had heard the man himself arguing that the government shouldn’t even be involved with marriage (and thus that it couldn’t compel churches to validate gay marriages, sure, but that seemed a separate issue). But it was watching his conservative friends’ comments sections and twitter feed that solidified the image of progressive-as-persecutor. It was blatantly apparent that these people hadn’t come to engage, they just wanted to take potshots. Ad hominem abounded, total lack of reading comprehension was displayed, and just general delight in cruelty was rampant. He was particularly appalled by the treatment of minority conservatives, who received all sorts of abuse based on race, sex, and orientation. Something that stuck with Metamun for years was watching conservative women get rape threats, death threats, and admonitions to kill themselves. One of his best friends got such an admonition in response to mentioning on twitter it was her birthday. That was it. Nothing political. Just excitement for a special, personal day. And none of his Leftist friends seemed to understand what their own wing was doing. They talked about the Right doing such things, which baffled him—he’d never seen anything like that, or, if he did, it was only once or twice and never anybody HIS friends actually associated with. Every movement has a few bad apples, right? (Mark the irony.) It didn’t help that once, depressed, Metamun DID admit on twitter that he was a conservative, and moreover that he was afraid people would stop being his friends over that. He promptly lost two friends. When he asked a third friend if they could please ask if he’d been unfollowed on purpose, they said they’d do it. And then THEY never talked to him again, even when he reached out. He was convinced the only reason he didn’t lose everybody was that they hadn’t all seen the tweets—he deleted them quickly. So there Metamun was: Lonely, convinced that even if he didn’t line up perfectly with conservatism that at least conservatives accepted him, and very angry at the Other Tribe that was so cruel and callous to him and his friends. But he was starting to grow up, and as he did he began noticing certain discrepancies. Now and then the movement that was supposed to have a Big Tent felt oddly crowded. People sometimes rubbed each other the wrong way. Metamun particularly hated it when the term RINO got thrown around, because he was all too aware that might apply to someone like him. Then there was the lack of nuance. He slowly came to realize people on both sides of the aisle would sometimes use “nuanced” as a snide insult. When the Dalai Lama described himself as anti-capitalist Metamun was disappointed, but understood (and also His Holiness was on record as saying when someone’s shooting at you it’s reasonable to shoot back, which Metamun thought made up for a lot). He did not expect certain conservatives to not only sneer at His Holinesses “nuanced” relationship with capitalism (accepting material support to fight against Mao) but actually accused him of being a PRC puppet. What? Hadn’t they read anything about the man’s life? Or his own writings? Yes, he’d tried to work with Mao, but that fell through because Mao hated religion unequivocally—how could any religious leader work with that? Why were they jumping to such insane conclusions? This wasn’t what conservatives were supposed to do! There were a thousand other cracks in the façade, but two stand out. First, Metamun admitted to a dear friend, full of apprehension, that he voted for Mitt Romney. And not only did she not cut him out of her life, she explained WHY she wouldn’t do that. Metamun was elated but also very confused—this wasn’t how the script in his head went. He was admitting this because the pain of keeping a secret was too much, and he fully expected to pay a price for that. He was (and remains) a drama-addled moron that way. He was also a creature who put a lot of stock in narrative, and this narrative was nothing like he expected. Next, Metamun himself cut two friends out of his life over politics—years apart, but the number is important. The first hurt, but felt very justified. The second haunted him. Metamun was easily haunted, but by this point he’d started really struggling with intrusive thoughts. Around and around they went in his head, and although there was extreme, maddening monotony, now and then he’d see angles he’d missed before. The number was important. Two friends he’d definitely lost (he was never really sure of the third). Two friends he’d rejected. Why did he reject them? Because he figured they’d hate him if they knew he didn’t agree with them. He figured they had made their positions so strident that it was just inevitable that they would cut him out if he didn’t cut them out first. And he realized, stupidly, after years of realizing nothing, that maybe that’s exactly how the people who left him had felt. Oh, perhaps they didn’t. But what if they did? What did that say about what, ultimately, they had in common? We’re getting closer to the present, so I’m going to start talking about myself in first person again. I recognize this version of myself more easily. As time went by I grew more and more jaded with American conservatism, but I still thought of myself as a conservative. A lot of people were like that, children of the Tea Parties who had thought that the Right was the only alternative to all the abhorrent things we saw on the Left. But familiarity breeds contempt, and soon we were well acquainted with abhorrent things on the Right. It seemed as if there was a rot spreading, something that had started as a speck and was now growing. The spirit of fellow feeling was starting to evaporate. There were a few things going on, but by this point I was barely paying attention to any of them. I hadn’t looked at a conservative blog in years. I didn’t listen to Rush. The fracture of American conservatism could probably be better documented by someone who still gives a damn, but we all know what was the final crack in the glass. Donald Trump’s candidacy split the Right seemingly overnight, and not neatly down the middle. The big question is, of course “love him or hate him”, but even people who don’t go to those extremes get caught up in the animosity. This, really, was when I couldn’t call myself a conservative anymore—no, not because his election was an indictment of conservatism, but because as the jagged rift grew, I suddenly realized that literally everything that scared me about the Left was present in the Right, both the MAGAheads and the Never Trumpers. All the bile. All the cruelty. All the callous disregard for our shared humanity. All the absurd stereotyping and reductionism. Everything I’d seen on the Left that made me feel that the Right, imperfect as it was, was my only refuge, was suddenly EVERYWHERE, from quarters I’d thought were safe. A lot of my conservative friends were hit even harder than I was; a few people desperately tried to reconcile people who had once laughed and dined together, but were now swearing never to speak again, or worse, verbally assaulting each other on a daily basis. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This was not the way we were supposed to work.And then, at last, I realized that the only reason I was just seeing all this awfulness NOW was because it hadn’t been directed at me and mine in the past. And here we come to the main point I want to impress on everybody who’s bothered to read this far: My short-sightedness was in no way unique. We always try to show our best face to our friends—and to our Tribe. We are thoughtful and considerate of people on our side. We roll our eyes at the people on our fringe—silly things, aren’t they? Imagine someone taking them seriously. Our enemies do not see our best face. They see our war face. We fight them tooth and nail. We exult in their defeats, which become our triumphs—somehow. And we see this horrible, poisonous crest at the top of their wave that threatens to engulf everything—their fringe. A leftist is not going to be threatened and insulted for being a rightist—at least not consistently outside of “purity” arguments. A leftist will be more cognizant of the threat posed by rightist fringes, because those fringes are not attacking the Right, per se. And you know, this goes for all conflict. You don’t see a problem as clearly if it’s not directly shoved in your face every day. And you will become convinced that the problems that ARE shoved in your face every day are the only ones really getting worked up about, because everything else seems so ephemeral. I read people scoff at their own fringes—“Oh, nobody REALLY believes that stuff, and people who complain about it are just showing their white fragility/race baiting/gay agenda/whatever the key phrase to stop critical thought is in a given situation”. Guess what? Those fringes are constantly needling at the other side. THEY are what is representative of your tribe to the Other Tribe. They are loud, and they are cruel, and ignoring them because the other guys “deserve it” or you hope “now they’ll know how it feels” is fucking insane. And yes, one of the reasons the Other Tribe sees it so often is that they go looking for it, but they go looking for it BECAUSE THEY ARE AFRAID OF IT and they want to make sure they know what it’s up to. The only thing worse than seeing the devil is losing sight of the devil. I’m no longer a conservative because that ideology is poisoned by hate. But I didn’t become a progressive, because that ideology is also poisoned by hate. Or maybe both ideologies have actually been abandoned, and now we just have two flavors of hate in opposition to each other. Please believe me, I do not WANT to be apolitical. Everybody hates the apolitical—we don’t even like ourselves much. And anyway, I’m one of nature’s conformists; I like belonging to a group. But at this point committing to ANY political movement feels like I would be sacrificing my integrity. And I would not want to be part of a movement that accepts people without integrity. I call myself a localist these days. Something risk analyst Nassim Nicholas Taleb came up with. Keep power close to the ground, don’t try to manage everything from the top down, resist interventionism in communities where you don’t have skin in the game. Not aiming for a world without blowups, but keeping them at a smaller scale than we currently experience. Forget fussing over socialism and capitalism; both are bad at large scales. Both can work together at smaller scales. The false dichotomy is a tool of tyrants. I want my country to get better. But that’s not going to happen until people admit there are malicious, corrupting forces even in their own Tribes. It’s not all the Other Tribe’s fault. I still see people I love treating other people I love as subhuman. And when I point this out, tentatively, people nod their heads and tell me I’m correct and then go back to thoughtless hatred. What I want people to understand, please, is that I want nothing to do with political mass movements. It’s all about different flavors of hatred. It’s all about hurting people. It’s all about hypocrisy and cruelty. Fuck it. I am going to try to be a good person without hitching my ego to too many abstractions. I am going to try to make the world around me a more pleasant place, and I am going to do that without giving a fuck about whatever sacred cows the Left Tribe and Right Tribe are busy genuflecting to. So. I’m going to work harder not to deal with it here.

#out of voice #this is really just a personal political essay #it's not funny and it's not thought provoking #i've just been sitting on it for years #i don't fit in any political clique and i no longer have any desire to do so #block this tag if you don't want to see politics #update: maybe i just won't come back to tumblr #but this would be a decent epitaph

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cuteshinymew · 4 years

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Tag game

I was first tagged by @selinissa-yune on my side blog @fives-the-magnificent, but shortly after I was also tagged by @ahsokathegray and @captainrexsoka so I’ll just answer all three in one go

Instructions: answer the questions and texts and followers would like to get to know better

Name: I go by Tabby online, which is a nickname I tried to give myself in high school but it never stuck.

Gender: female but I don’t particularly care about it. Like, this was the one I was assigned at birth but recently someone told me that even cisgenders care about gender and that not caring could mean you’re non-binary? Idk I’m probably gonna stay with female though.

Star sign: Gemini

Height: 1.80m (I think that’s 5’11” in US units?)

Sexuality: Bi

Favorite book: I think LOTR, even though that’s not one book

Current time: 15:42

Average sleep: pre-Coronas usually slept from nine till seven, but since the whole pandemic I’ve been sleeping less. Think from midnight till five. Probably one of the reasons why my mental health is not doing so well right now.

Dogs or cats: I can’t choose. Honestly, I kind of prefer dogs because they are more open about how happy they are to see you, but I have a cat and I really love her (even if she ruins the wallpaper and sleeps all day)

# of blankets I sleep with: One right now but it depends on the weather.

Dream job: professional hacker

Favorite animal: idk I can’t choose I love them all (with exceptions. Looking at you, wasps. I know you’re important, but I don’t like you and I’ll try to keep you away from my campsite. thank you.)

Blog established: I don’t know. This blog is ancient. I made it in 2011 or something like that, I don’t remember. And then I abandoned it until 2015 after only posting like three posts. I kind of picked it back up again because I want to follow some fanart accounts. And then Tumblr dragged me back in. My sight blog, @fives-the-magnificent is much more recent. Only a few weeks old I think. Time hasn’t felt real since the whole COVID-19 stuff.

# of followers: 240 for Fives and 41 for me (though I only count 27???)

Reason for url: kind of an old story, but in elementary school I had a friend with whom I always used to roll play Pokémon, I am I would always play a shiny mew. I lost contact with that friend when I started high school (we were both institutionalized back then, that’s how I knew her. But I wasn’t allowed to keep her personal information and all I had was her first name. I kind of hope she can find me someday. I eventually found her on Facebook but she never accepted my friend request. It’s OK though, we would’ve grown apart anyway. The name stays because I don’t want to think of anything new

Something I’m grateful for: honestly, the new friends I’ve made since this lockdown began. I’ve made a lot of new friends on Tumblr and that’s pretty great. I just hope I’ll be able to keep the friendships after this is all over, because then I won’t have as much time to kill on Tumblr. Which is a good thing, because this lockdown isn’t good for my mental health. But still. So if I disappear soon you’ll know why. And we are slowly opening back up again because unlike the US we actually did something about COVID-19. No offense to any US residents but your country isn’t handling it well and I’m really concerned about y’all

Im not gonna check if anyone has been tagged already. @lilrexsoka @keysupersam you know what screw it the whole group chat can consider themselves tagged (those it in twill know who they are) I suck at remembering urls) @queenofthesenate @thepanakinanakin

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kaiamore · 5 years

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⌠ COURTNEY EATON, 22, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, KAIA MORGAN! according to their records, they’re a SECOND year, specializing in ADVANCED ENCRYPTION + RESEARCH & DEVELOPMENT; and they DID NOT go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of ( messy black hair, chipped polish nails, can of energy drink, baggy knitted sweatshirt ). when it’s the virgo’s birthday on 9/18/1997, they always request their CREAMY SPINACH PIZZA from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation.

This is a long ass thing to read tbh I’m sorry. You can just hit me up to save yourself from trouble. I got lazy to really but hi I’m Madie, Slytherin, Aries bitch, INFJ, and I cry a lot. It’s like 4 in the morning hiiii. You can check also check her PINTEREST, WANTED CONNECTION PAGE and BIO. Under the cut is my baby.

trigger warning: abduction

HISTORY

It wasn’t like it didn’t pick her interest. In fact, she did her own research. Though it was something she might have been interested in, she didn’t think she was cut for that.

AT GALLAGHER….

At first glance, it was obvious that Kaia wasn’t really the ideal embodiment of a Gallagher girl if one would simply judge her by her demeanor. It didn’t mean she didn’t earn her place.

PERSONALITY

Kaia is unfortunately a pushover. She will probably do things for you as long as you leave her alone afterwards.

Her humor is so bad (or the way she delivers it ). Almost every joke she crack, she almost regret saying it. Most of the time she laughs at her own jokes and puns.

She is very moody and one person probably can’t tell because she is meek.

Kaia can be easily motivated just as she is easily demotivated. Despite being smart, she has very low opinion about herself. She had a tendency to give up easily when things didn’t go as plan.

MORE FACTS

She is 5′10 and hates it. She slouches a lot because she doesn’t like to draw attention.

She has a fat Russian blue cat at home named Meowth and has a picture of him on her bedside table.

Honestly, Kaia is a little spoiled. She struggles with keeping her room tidy because she was used of someone cleaning after her.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

BEST FRIEND ( 0/1) - Kaia only met them during her first year since she didn’t really have friends in high school. If not, then they were someone she met online and when they met

MOM/DAD FRIEND ( 0/?) - Kaia doesn’t really take care of herself so someone has to! She needs a lot of those.

FRENEMIES ( 0/2 ) - probably someone that annoys Kaia( and probably blackmail her ) into doing their bidding. It could also be a video game buddy that she gained a unhealthy competition with.

BAD INFLUENCE ( 0/2 ) - Kaia couldn’t avoid being social forever. Basically just an enabler of her curiosity about these sort of things.

FAMILY ( 0/? ) - self-explanatory really but you know, cousins but not limited to family friend or a relative of her stepfather she had met several times.

ANYTHING UNDER SUN REALLY - we can also always brainstorm if none of the mentioned above really fits

IF you reach this part, you are amazing!!!!!! Like I wouldn’t bother myself most days to be honest. Just reply if you want me to hit your DMs to plot or like hit my dicord at batnips#8030

#gallagher:intro #tw abduction

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raisingsupergirl · 5 years

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Havok Publishing Hits Realm Makers 2019!

I'm in shock. Or maybe it's awe. I'm humbled, for sure. And tired, too. Definitely tired. But all the other things are overpowering the sleep deprivation, like they usually do post-conference. But this year it's different. I didn't come home with a head full of mush and a bag full of notes. No, this was not a "learning" year like those in the past. Not in the strictest sense, anyway. Though, I certainly am still processing all of the unexpected happenings and possibilities. But to understand what I'm talking about, you first need to understand what I've been up to.

The last few months, I've been talking about how I've been so busy, and stressed, and overwhelmed, and blah, blah, blah. Some of it had to do with my day job as a physical therapist, but most of it revolved around my writing and editing career, the majority of it being work for my company, Havok Publishing.

Yes, I have a publishing company. But it's not "mine," exactly. Not completely, anyway. Almost a year ago, I took the reigns from its previous owner (Ben Wolf) with one stipulation: I'd have gobs and gobs of friends helping me run things. And after splitting the managerial strain with two spectacular women (I run the editorial department while a kraken runs the marketing and tech departments and a jackalope runs the operations department… that probably makes more sense to them than it does you…), I "hired" on almost twenty more volunteers to fill out the ranks. And since then, we've been busting our tails to create something that's so much bigger than any one of us.

But you may be asking why in the world twenty-something people would volunteer for anything so involved as a publishing company. Well, it's because of the spirit of said company. And I was reminded of that in a big way this past weekend.

The Realm Makers writing conference is the summer highlight for a very specific group of about 300 people. You see, we're all Christians, writers, and… kind of weird. That is, we're geeks and nerds. We collect Marvel comics, write dragon stories, and wear ridiculous costumes. And we never feel more at home than when we're among our own people.

Becky Minor and a faithful few created this conference several years ago, and I've been a part of it since the beginning. Which means I've formed some deep friendships with some amazing people, most of whom I don't see in person anywhere other than this conference. And over the years, I've had the joy of watching them grow from scared, flightless writers to bold, soaring authors. So many of them have forged their own path into the wild world, and many more have joined the ranks as wide-eyed newbies. And we all continue to have the same spirit of inclusiveness and excitement for the craft and industry of fiction stories, but unfortunately, we often also share the pain of rejection in said industry. And that's exactly where Havok Publishing comes in.

You see, there are a lot of readers out there. And there are also plenty of writers. But sometimes, getting good stories from writers to readers can be tricky. Polishing stories takes time. As does packaging them and delivering them into the right hands. And time is money, so many writers simply don't have the resources to get the job done, which is exactly why publishers exist. But publishers need to make money, too, which means they're often only willing to offer publishing contracts to the biggest and most well-established names in the industry. And only to the most exciting and well-packaged novels. And all of this leaves a very big hole in the process: providing new writers with an opportunity to improve their craft and put their polished stories in front of readers (other than their grandmas). And when I almost let Havok die last year, that was the only reason I didn't. We truly were a company that provided the bridge for those new writers. And we were one of the only ones in our corner of the industry doing it.

Since then, we've grown at a staggering rate. We've flipped our production and delivery model on end. We've turbo-charged our marketing. And we've been met by hordes of supporters that continue to push us forward toward great things. But, as I said, we're all volunteers. So twenty-something hours per week of pouring in without getting much back except "Good Job" stickers can take its toll. So when we were starting to feel beat down, I encouraged us all to wait until that always-magical Realm Makers weekend before losing heart. And, if I must say, I was right.

The weeks leading up to the conference were a blur. We were busy curating the best stories we'd acquired over the past six months into our first anthology, and unless you've ever published your own book (correctly), I can't possibly tell you how involved the process in. But just know that we barely made it in time. We didn't do everything right, but the final product looked amazing, and seventy-two copies of it came with us for sale in the conference bookstore.

And less than twenty-four hours after the conference began, we sold out.

Yes, all seventy-two books that we ambitiously printed, loaded up, and put on display among so many other amazing novels, anthologies, comics, and crafts completely sold out in less than a day. And I was completely floored. And through the rest of the conference, other writers and fans continued to ask how they could purchase our anthology. They bought t-shirts and went online and bought the anthology there (which you can do by clicking on this link to amazon.com). And it took me a while to figure out how in the world that could have happened.

But slowly, it dawned on me: it was the spirit of Havok. We foster and nurture eager young writers. We build them up. We guide them. We give them hope. And we set them up for success in what is oftentimes their first real publication. And they, in turn, are the ultimate rockstars and advocates for what we're doing. Probably half of those seventy-two anthology copies were bought by authors who were published in it (for gifts for their friends and family), and the other half were snatched up by Realmies (the affectionate name for the Realm Makers tribe/attendees) who felt the palpable excitement generated by those of us involved in the magic.

I think there were eighteen of the Havok Hive (the name for Havok's collective volunteer staff… you will be assimilated) in attendance at this year's Realm Makers. And as a small token, Cerberus (the name for the aforementioned three heads of Havok, myself being one of them. Yes, I know. We have a lot of strange titles. Didn't I warn you that we're weird?) gifted them with bright orange Havok lanyards. And as the Hive busied itself about the conference, helping here and there where needed, it unwittingly lightened the tensions weighing on those young writers whom we love so much. As one woman told me on the last night of the conference, "Every time I see an orange lanyard, I know the person wearing it will be encouraging. Like I can actually do this thing."

And that's when I knew we'd won. We'd accomplished, for the moment, what we set out to do. We'd given back to a conference and a culture that had already made such a difference in the lives of so many. We'd played our small but essential part in the process. And we will continue to do so. We're acquiring hundreds of stories each year. We're putting the best of those stories in beautiful anthologies alongside some of the industry’s biggest names. We're putting our energy and resources directly back into our authors and projects that will benefit them. And we're doing it all because we love it. And we love them. And we couldn't do any of it without that constant reminder. So, thank you, everyone, who has supported Havok Publishing along the way. You're helping us make a difference in the lives of so many creatives. And, in turn, you're helping their stories make a change in this world.

We're doing good work here at Havok, and it takes a village… or in this case, a Hive… or a Horde. I don't know. Maybe we do need to reconsider how many strange labels we're putting on everything. But you get my drift. Together, we’re weird. We’re writers. And we’re wonderful. Write on!

#realm makers #realm makers 2019 #havok publishing #flash fiction #amwriting #amediting #short stories #science fiction

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black-king-white-knight · 5 years

Text

Nicoletto Giganti

Pairing: Romantic pining Logince. (They’re both Gay Disasters, what can I say?) Platonic Moxiety. Mild background platonic LAMP?

Word Count: 4,921. I swear it was supposed to be ~500. I am truly incapable of keeping my mouth shut.

Warnings: Logan’s oblivious, and despite the fact I didn’t really have time to include it, Roman’s pining too. A tiny little bit of swearing... oh and mentions of sword fighting, but it’s fencing classes and mentions of a competition. Nothing else I can think of, but let me know if there’s anything else anyone wants me to tag for.

Oh, and I know nothing about fencing other than what I remember from a couple of terms of it at school about a decade ago. Plus whatever I can dig up online. So any mistakes are, of course, mine.

Since I don’t have a beta, there might be some tense switches here that I haven’t fixed, if so, please let me know.

A/N: To my good friend and one of the two best artists I’ve ever seen. Happy Birthday Elli! I hope you like it. =)

“So, have you asked him yet?”

Logan didn’t open his eyes, just gave a small sigh as he stopped counting and shifted position slightly. Eighteen seconds. Well, I had thought it would be Patton who asked, not you, Virgil.

“No, Virgil, I have not asked Roman anything yet, because, quite frankly, I don’t know what you except me to ask him or him to say in response.”

There was a short pause as Logan felt the unimpressed stare from Virgil and the... he wasn’t quite sure what kind of look Patton was giving him.

They’d both been acting strange since finding out about his... aesthetic fascination with Roman. That’s all it was, he’d quite clearly stated that, but for some reason, Virgil and Patton refused to accept it as such. They kept on trying to push for a confrontation and confession for illogical reasons Logan couldn’t decipher.

Whatever Logan’s interest in Roman was, Roman, very clearly did not reciprocate. It was nothing to be concerned about. Anybody looking at Roman could see the aesthetic appeal he held, and that’s all Logan was admiring about him. That’s it. Nothing more than that.

Virgil snorted off to Logan’s left, but thankfully didn’t press the subject any further. Patton was clearly worried about something, as evidenced by his constant fidgeting. It was a habit Virgil used to feel a little guilty about, thinking he’d inflicted it on Patton, but between Logan and Patton himself, Virgil had eventually been convinced that such a notion was rubbish.

“Don’t worry, kiddo, maybe he’ll ask you out...” It sounded like Patton mumbled something else after that, but Logan couldn’t make it out. If he was of a more fanciful nature, he might have guessed it was, “sooner than you think.”

Nevertheless, Logan’s brain short-circuited for a few seconds, involuntarily caught up in the notion of spending time with Roman. As much as he enjoyed the company of his other two friends, spending time with the theatre student would be...

No, it’s just an aesthetic attraction, Logan. You know this. Anything further is illogical. It was a mantra that Logan stuck to rigorously, especially recently. It had shielded him from the pain of rejection for several months now. Not that there was anything to get rejected over, of course. Wait...

“Patton, why would he need to ask me specifically? We’ve all agreed already that we would go as a group.” It sounded kind of weak, even to Logan’s ears. He didn’t even bother denying to himself that he wanted Roman to ask him specifically, despite how guilty it made him feel about excluding his other two friends.

He wanted his... definitely-not-a-crush to be reciprocated, of course he did, but not at the expense of his friendship with Roman. It was not a definite outcome, and Logan couldn’t bring himself to face such uncertainty.

Patton didn’t answer the question directly, but did send a quick glance at Virgil, again with that face that Logan didn’t know how to interpret. Something was clearly going on here, the two boys had a plan about something, but he couldn’t work out what it was and that made him a little uncomfortable.

When Patton and Virgil started plotting together, it was best to just hope you could stay out of the way. Patton didn’t look it, but he’d perfected his puppy dog eyes over many years and knew just when to deploy them to get out of trouble.

The teen in question shifted closer on Logan’s right side and gently pressed his outstretched leg to Logan’s and started carding his fingers through the other boy’s hair, and then moved on to gently scratch his scalp.

Logan wanted to pursue the subject further, and was about to ask Patton why he was clearly trying to distract him with physical affection when Patton hit that one spot right there.

This one particular spot on the back of Logan’s head had always been his weak point. It was a well established tradition between the four boys. They’d been best friends since before any of them could remember and had long ago grown so comfortable with each other that physical affection became a major method of communication, especially when they were feeling anxious about something.

Logan eventually gave up, just enjoyed the stroking, scratching sensations on his scalp as Patton moved his hand around, idly doodling puppy paws on his leg with his other hand. Virgil crouched against the tree, headphones on and looking like he was blocking out the world, but all of them knew that face well.

Roman had initially joked that it was Virgil’s ‘Taskmaster Face’, but the joke quickly proved to be a reality after Patton had gotten hurt in their first competitive fencing bout. Virgil had turned into a demon then, pushing them all to practice as much as they could to prevent any future injuries even after Patton’s protestations that he was fine.

At first they’d all rebelled against it in their own ways, but after Virgil had revealed his anxiety... Logan shuddered internally. The realisation that Virgil had been suffering in silence for years because he hadn’t wanted to bring them down had... not gone well for any of them, but at least Virgil was more open with them now, Patton especially.

Virgil wasn’t touching Logan, but he was offering his own silent comfort. Before Logan could demand an answer why, the bell rang out across the campus, and the three friends started walking back towards the buildings, Patton’s left hand having dropped from Logan’s head to his side, fingers entwining with his.

“Where’s Roman?” Logan asked, surprised that the theatre student hadn’t made an appearance all through lunch. A certain tardiness on Roman’s part wasn’t unusual, he had a habit of either getting distracted, especially when Logan was around, for some odd reason, and he often stayed behind to help the drama group.

Which they all did during productions, whether or not they were officially involved in them, but Roman did it year round, mostly tutoring the younger students.

But for him to not appear all throughout lunch was... odd. And Logan could have brushed it off as Roman being Roman except for the fake nonchalance that the other two on either side of him immediately came down with.

They knew something, and Logan wanted to find out what it was.

There was a moment of silence before Virgil shrugged, “He’s around.”

Seeing that Logan wasn’t satisfied with such an evasive answer, Patton jumped in with, “It’s nothing bad Lo; apart from that... It’s a surprise, you’ll see later. Just, trust us, please?” Patton then pulled out his puppy eyes, and Logan immediately caved. None of them were able to deny Patton anything when he pulled out that expression.

Virgil snicked and when Logan looked at him, he peeled away with a quick two fingered salute and headed towards English, while Patton and Logan moved to History, still hand in hand.

Logan felt out of place throughout his afternoon classes. He and Patton didn’t share many classes with either Roman or Virgil, since Roman was one year younger and Virgil was two, but even so, the lack of Roman and the secretiveness of the other two... stuck in Logan’s mind.

He knew Patton, the teacher and several of his classmates were all looking at him, wondering why he was so quiet, but Logan was too wrapped up in what his friends had told him during the day.

Roman was off, somewhere, doing something secret. It was a surprise that he would discover later, apparently, and then there was the issue of Patton’s insistence that Roman might give Logan a shot if he were to confess his feelings.

Logan couldn’t help himself; he started re-examining all of his past interactions with Roman. How distracted the theatre student was around him, frequently daydreaming and not paying attention to the tutoring help that Logan gave him. How, when they were fencing, they learned that out of all of them, Roman learned the worst when he was paired with Logan; it was like he was unable to focus full the way he was with Virgil or Patton.

But that was- surely his friends couldn’t be right, could they? Logan had seen enough romantic movies on movie nights between Patton and Roman, but everyone knew popular media didn’t imitate real life.

But Logan couldn’t (and to be honest, he didn’t want to) crush the spark of hope that was blooming in his chest.

“Lo?” Patton asked from above him. “You okay, kiddo?”

Logan looked up, realising with shock that class was over, and Patton had his arms full of his books and head cocked to one side as he looked at Logan.

“Uh, yes, everything is satisfactory, Patton.” Logan muttered, adjusting his glasses and trying to fight down the senseless blush that suddenly spread across his cheeks. Patton smiled at him and the two boys exited the classroom, only to be greeted by Virgil who was hanging around on the other side of the corridor, bag slung over one shoulder, hood up and headphones on. When he saw them though he pulled out his phone and turned his music off, pulled his headphones down and linked arms with Patton while they followed Logan to his locker.

He was still feeling off, but that feeling only spiked when he got close to his locker and saw other people looking at him before turning away, or people walking away giggling.

Logan turned the corner, gently but firmly working his way through the crowd that was milling around in the corridor, wondering what on earth was happening and-

...

Well.

That certainly explained what Roman had been occupied with.

Behind him, the sound of flesh smacking into itself, sounding very much like someone face-palming could be heard.

“When I said make it obvious enough even Logan couldn’t be that oblivious, that is not what I meant, Princey.” Virgil muttered from beside Logan’s right shoulder, and the gasping noise at his other side marked when Patton first saw the display.

The thing was, it was, almost, tasteful. There weren’t as anatomically inaccurate stuffed hearts as Logan would have expected, but what Roman had done was adorn them in the shades of black and blue that Logan tended to wear.

Roman was standing in front of Logan’s locker with two piles of hearts on his right, three on his left, a bunch of flowers in his hands, and a bright red blush on his face. On top of each heart pile was a large stuffed bear, each of them holding a letter or question mark to form the word, PROM?

Each bear was a miniature person.

The three outer bears, the ones holding the capital ‘P’, capital ‘M’ and the question mark, were miniature Logans. The two inner bears flanking Roman, the ones holding the capital ‘R’ and the capital ‘O’ were miniature Romans.

The three of the bears had been given Logan’s tie, glasses, shirt and slacks, but after staring in shock for a few seconds, he realised that not only did the bears have hair, it was his hair.

The Roman bears had the white Prince uniform, complete with gold trimming and red sash that Roman had worn in the only production he had so far directed, and it was Logan’s favourite performance he’d ever seen Roman give. The bears’ hair was also styled the same way it was in that performance.

Roman and whoever he must have had help from had given each one of the bears hair and clothes that was not only in his colour, but his style too.

Idly, Logan realised that such an effort must have taken hours, especially with five large bears to work on.

He was... amazed. Flattered. He couldn’t-

“Oh dear, I think Ro broke him...” he could hear Patton say from behind him, and Virgil snickered, saying something about “Windows”.

“Logan? Would you like to go to prom with me?” Logan was aware of Roman speaking, but he couldn’t seem to make his mouth work.

“Lo? Kiddo, you really should answer him...”

Logan snapped back to his senses, just in time to see Roman’s smile start to crack a little around the edges, like splintering glass.

“YES!” Logan yelled, rather louder than he meant to. But it did get his point across. Roman’s face burst into the biggest, most radiant grin Logan had ever seen across his face.

“Finally,” Virgil commented from behind them, and Patton sighed happily.

“Aww, they’re adorable together, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, Pop Star. Yeah, they are.”

“What do you mean you had a crush on me?!”

“Logan! Sit down, please. You’re ruining my hard work,” Patton scolded from behind him, and Logan resumed his seat, chagrined.

“My apologies, Patton. I was just startled.”

Logan looked at Roman, who just shrugged, trying to pass it off as nonchalance, but failing spectacularly.

In the week after Roman’s promposal, Logan had come to realise many things, including that not only Virgil and Patton, but also most of the student body and the teachers all knew about Logan’s crush on Roman and, apparently, his crush on Logan.

It seemed as though the only two who didn’t know were the boys themselves.

“That’s why I asked you to prom like that, I needed something with extra oomph!” Roman replied, looking up in shock from where he was painting his own nails. Having done everyone else’s nails and make-up, he was now pushing through, trying to get his own done before their transport arrived. At Logan’s confused look, Roman continued, “That’s why I took Virgil’s advice and tried something more direct. Because I’d asked you out several other times and you never acknowledged it as anything more than friends, so I thought you were trying to let me down gently, but the they insisted you were just oblivious.”

They were standing in Roman’s bedroom, getting ready for prom that night. Patton was working on everyone’s hair, and Virgil was sorting out the finishing touches for his and Patton’s cocktail dresses that they were already wearing, and fishing the other boys’ suits out of the wardrobe.

And Logan was sitting there, unsure of how he could have missed all of these apparently obvious signs when no-one else did.

“No, of course I didn’t know. If I had I would have-” Logan sputtered.

“Would have what, Logan?” Virgil asked, from where his head was buried in Roman’s extensive walk-in wardrobe. “Here, this one’s yours,” he said, passing a suit-bag to Logan.

Tried harder to understand. “Thank you, wait, why is my suit in Roman’s wardrobe?”

“Because he had to make sure that your suit complimented his, of course,” Patton said from his position behind Logan, gently running his fingers through the other boy’s hair, styling it with the superior skill they all knew he had.

“I don’t understand. You were that sure I’d say yes?”

“Logan-” the other three say simultaneously, with varying degrees of exasperation.

“Logan... kiddo, the way you and Roman were staring at each other... you weren’t subtle.”

“Not even slightly,” Virgil added, his head still buried in fabric.

The teenager in question just stood there in shock, thinking that, if that were true, how had he missed out on it? He remembered realising Roman was staring at him a lot but he’d never...

“Hey,” Virgil said, nudging his shoulder, “Pat’s done with your hair, now go get changed before you start bluescreening again.”

“Yes. Thank you, Patton,” Logan said with a smile at the other bespectacled boy who grinned in response before shooing him away and making grabby hands for Virgil, who rolled his eyes and obediently sat down.

Just before he walked into the ensuite bathroom, the tail end of Virgil’s sentence caught up to Logan, and he turned and asked, “I’m never going to live down my reaction to that promposal, am I?”

The other three just stared flatly at him.

“Of course not,” Logan muttered, as he closed the door, but he couldn’t help his small smile at the thought of Roman’s display. And he knew that the others had seen his smile too, Roman in particular.

He unzipped the bag and pulled out the suit and gasped, in spite of himself. It was a charcoal grey, with a silk shirt of such a dark blue that it looked nearly black, with spots of silver glitter on the shirt, forming what looked like... no, forming what were constellations.

Logan’s love of astronomy and space was well known, but for any of them, or all three of them to go to such lengths just for his prom suit was... deeply touching.

The silk tie was a deep, royal red, presumably complimenting whatever Roman’s suit was going to be, and there was even a pocket square, which Logan attempted to fold many times, but then gave up, resigning himself to the fact that he would have to get one of the others to do it.

The make-up that Roman had so carefully applied to his face was... wonderful. Logically, Logan knew that Roman’s make-up skills were as impressive as Patton’s skill with hair, but there was a substantial difference between seeing it in action, and simply knowing about it.

Most of the make-up Logan couldn’t keep track of, he just sat back and trusted Roman to do what he did so well. Also, Logan was more than a little pre-occupied with not freaking out given his crush was so close for such a prolonged period.

The eye shadow was the same as his tie and the pocket square, dark blue and glittery. The eyeliner wings were ‘sharp enough to kill a man’ as Roman was so fond of saying, and Logan could certainly see what he meant.

There was also a faint shade of blue lipstick, lighter than his eye shadow; it matched the blue of Logan’s hair dye very pleasingly.

Shaking himself out of his stupor, remembering that they were all on a time limit, he got dressed, automatically sucking in his stomach a bit to get into the trousers, but pleasantly surprised to find they were perfectly tailored. How, he didn’t know, but recent events had taught him that he was clearly far less observant than he thought he was.

After he finished, he exited the bathroom, draping the empty suit bag across the back of one of the empty chairs before turning to the room at large.

“Can someone help me with my pocket square please?” Logan asked, stepping out of the bathroom. Virgil and Patton suddenly turned away from him, as Patton said, “Uh, sorry Lo, we’re both busy with this... thing. Maybe Roman can give you a hand?”

Logan was about to question them on their obviously fake excuse when he turned around and-

...

“Yep. I’ve definitely broken him this time.”

Roman stood there, looking the best that Logan had ever seen him. By a lot. Which considering Roman’s normal looks, was really saying something.

His suit was the same grey as Logan’s, and his shirt was the same red as Logan’s tie, but the glitter in his shirt was coloured white and gold. It took Logan a minute to work out what his glitter formed a picture of, but then it clicked. Castles and crowns.

A prince indeed, was the thought that went through Logan’s mind.

Roman plucked the dark blue and glittery pocket square out of Logan’s limp fingers and swiftly folds it into the ‘Three Stairs’ fold for Logan, Roman’s own pocket square, done in the ‘Four Peaks’ design, looking like a red and gold glittery crown on his chest.

“Roman, you look... splendid. Amazing,” Logan breathed in awe.

“Thank you, Logan. You look almost perfect yourself, there’s just one, final, touch...”

Logan felt a tugging on his cuffs and looked down. Roman was holding a small, velvet covered box, and blurted out a question before he even knew what he was saying.

“What- Roman, are you asking me to marry you?”

There was a crash from behind Logan that made all three of them turn around in shock to find that Virgil was currently laughing hysterically from his position on the ground, where he’d tripped over a chair in shock at Logan’s question.

“No, Logan, I’m not asking you to marry me,” Roman said, failing to keep the laughter out of his voice as Patton helped Virgil up.

“Oh, okay then,” Logan said, not quite sure how he felt about that.

“After all, we’ve got to save something for after the prom, don’t we?”

Logan was sure he couldn’t have heard that correctly, but Roman grinned at him, then went back to the box. Which, when he opened it, turned out to contain cufflinks, not a ring.

The cufflinks themselves though turned out to be another surprise, since the design on the links was the logo of the team the four of them had formed together.

Again, Logan felt his heart swell with love for the three people around him. Even without his new relationship with Roman, (which he still couldn’t quite believe) the deep love he had for the three people around him, and the love they had for him was something he would hold onto for the rest of his life.

Logan caught Roman’s eye, just as the other boy raised an eyebrow in a silent question. Logan nodded mutely, and extended his arms, giving permission for Roman to press the cufflinks into the end of his sleeves, standing closer than was strictly necessary, but Logan had zero intention of pushing him away.

“There. All done. Now, you look perfect, Logan.” Roman said softly, he took a step backwards, running his fingers down Logan’s forearms and across his hands, sending electric sensations up Logan’s spine, which made his fingers twitch in response to Roman’s ministrations.

Logan inhaled, and he didn’t know what cologne Roman was wearing, he couldn’t even really say what it smelled like, all he knew was that Roman smelt fantastic.

Logan turned around, feeling his face heat up as he felt Roman’s fingers slip into his own, and they turned and looked at each other before both blushing, looking away, and catching sight of Patton and Virgil, who were looking at them with what had become their standby expressions over the past week.

Virgil’s fringe was hanging down in front of his eyes, with his lips turned up in a small smirk, but this one was his private, ‘you’re a dork but I love you anyway’ that Virgil kept just for the three of them. Patton, meanwhile, was looking at the two of them like they were puppies he’d just been handed.

A honk of the horn outside confirmed that their transport had arrived, and the four of them hustled downstairs, quickly slipping into their shoes, (heels for Patton, dress shoes for Logan and knee-length boots for Virgil and Roman,) and hurrying outside, to be greeted with the sight of an actual limousine.

They all started talking excitedly, getting more and more excited for what the night promised, as they walked towards the limo.

They climbed inside, spreading out across and sinking into the luxurious leather upholstery as the driver shut the door, settled into the front and pulled out into the traffic, heading towards the tower the prom was being held in.

The trip was quiet, mostly, because despite the fact that Roman and Patton were almost constantly talking, with Virgil occasionally joining in, it didn’t annoy Logan like it would have if it were other people.

He just leant back, still not quite able to believe that he was this happy, this fortunate just a week after being so sure that he would be attending tonight more for his friends than he would for himself.

When they arrived, they found the entrance to the tower was filled with students from their high school, all milling around in their own little friendship groups. As the four of them walked past towards the lifts, Logan heard someone mutter, “Damn, Patton wears that dress so well,” and Logan couldn’t help but agree. So did Virgil, but there was something about the way Patton moved, that just made his dress look a lot different, despite them being identical except for the colour.

They took the lift up to the 21st floor, exited the car and found their way up the stairs to be greeted by the sight in front of them. The ballroom had a dance floor and stage immediately in front of them, a bar tucked into one of the far corners of the room, opposite the kitchen doors and well out of the way of the tables spread throughout the far half of the room. Floor-to-ceiling plate glass windows completed the effect, with a pair of French doors leading to a balcony.

They took their seats at one of the tables near the front, joining a few of their other friends who they spent the first part of the night chatting with, as they ate dinner.

Eventually, though, Roman and Patton both jumped to their feet as the rest of the table hurriedly vacated, along with most of the other students. Logan and Virgil looked up sharply, Virgil’s eyes already widening, no doubt fuelled by his anxiety, when Roman said, “Come on, Lo, we’ve got to dance!”

What. “I beg your pardon?”

“Dance, you know, that thing where you move your feet and body in time to a piece of music?”

“I’ll have you know I’m well acquainted with the concept of dancing, Roman. I just wasn’t planning to dance tonight.” Which was true, Logan had no intention of dancing tonight, but seeing Roman’s face fall, to be quickly swallowed by a neutral expression hurt him deeply.

“O-oh, well that’s okay! Pat’ll dance with me!”

“Wait, Rom-!” But the two boys were gone before Logan could finish.

Virgil looked at Logan sympathetically. “Scared you’d look stupid on the dance floor?”

“I... do not understand, dancing. It’s a sequence of steps in time to a beat, it’s almost mathematical, yet no matter how much I try, I am unable to even acquire basic efficiency at it.” Logan said, still trying to work out how to fix the sudden problem he’d caused.

“Logan, look at them. Not Roman, you’ll just end up feeling hurt. Also, Roman’s great at this, he’s not my point.” Logan was confused, but let his eyes drift across the other students, seeing them dancing, laughing, having fun.

“Really look at them, Logan. What do you see?”

“Teenagers dancing. What am I supposed to be seeing, Virgil?”

“Teenagers dancing badly. But they’re having fun doing it. If someone’s dancing like that, they’re thinking about more than looking stupid on the dance floor. If you go out and dance badly, no-one’s going to look twice at you. All four of us fence, but Patton does ballet as well and Roman... is Roman. People expect them to dance well because they know they can. People don’t expect it of us, so if it turns out we can’t do it, then it’s not a problem. They don’t take any notice of it.”

“That is... surprisingly observant of you, Virgil.”

“Yeah, well, that’s anxiety for you. I’ve had a lot of time to spend watching from the sidelines. But if it makes you feel any better, they’ll do some slow songs later. Slow dance with your man. No skill required, and you get to hold him close.”

“Thank you, Virgil. I will certainly... try, to do that.”

“That’s all I’m asking, Pocket Protector.”

The song ended, and almost in answer to some unspoken wish of Logan’s, the band switched from a fast song to a slow one.

Patton and Roman returned, cheeks flushed with exertion when Logan suddenly sprang up. “Roman, would you please dance with me?”

“What? But I thought you didn’t-”

“I do! I was just, surprised.”

“Oh. Yes. Yes. I mean, I would certainly love to dance with you,” Roman said, the flush on his cheeks deepening a little as he grabbed Logan’s hand and they walked briskly towards the dance floor.

The two boys turned to each other and had to take a few seconds to sort out who was holding the other where, but eventually they got themselves sorted and Logan leant his head on the taller boy’s chest as they swayed together slowly.

They spent the next few hours like this, either on the dance floor, sometimes in pairs, sometimes all together, sometimes all alone in Roman’s case, or all together at the table, eating or resting.

Around midnight, when the dancing was starting to wind down and the room was starting to get to everyone, Logan suggested they go sit out on the balcony for some fresh air, and Virgil decided to ask Patton to dance for the first time tonight. Unwilling to say no, the two left, leaving just Roman and Logan together.

They both rolled their eyes at the total lack of subtlety the other two possessed, but were also grateful to them, so they left it at that and headed outside.

The balcony was quiet, the cool air pleasant on Logan’s heated skin as he leaned into Roman’s side, both of them staring up into the night sky, quietly admiring the constellations as the sound of the bell striking midnight rang out across the city.

“I love you, Logan.”

“I love you too... my prince.”

End Notes: The title is another awful, awful pun. Except this one isn’t really a pun. You do get to see a cute puppy if you understand it though.

There’s a lot here I want to change and expand, but since I’d also like it to be done *before* the end of the year, this is where it ends.

Oh, and if you’re wondering about the dresses Virgil and Patton are wearing:

https://au.shein.com/Fit-and-Flare-Sleeveless-Glitter-Dress-p-551409-cat-1727.html

Obviously, the purple one for Virge, and a lighter shade of that blue for Pat.

And finally, I do apologise if the quality seems a little... lacking. I wrote all but 179 words of this in about 16 hours. So... yeah. Actually, subtract all the time I spent distracting myself... it’s probably closer to six hours. I have a cramp in one hand, it is now 2:41AM and I’m off to bed. But I do hope you enjoyed, despite all that. =)

I somehow forgot to tag anyone. >.<

@ellistruggle @pipapatton

Thanks for the reminder Pipa. =)

Edit: I’m not sure what’s happening with the spacing, why it won’t separate like I want it to, I’m sorry about that, I’ll try and get it fixed as soon as I can.

#tw: Swearing #Sanders Sides #Sanders Sides fanfic #Logince #Virgil Sanders #Patton Sanders #Roman Sanders #Logan Sanders #Happy Birthday Elli =)#Bkwk writes #My writing

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kittyit · 6 years

Text

on lying

introduction

i need to write an essay about compulsive liars. the main reason is because i am a recovered one.

first, let me establish a few things. this essay is about and for female people, my feelings are simple about male compulsive liars - run, and don’t look back. but this isn’t to say the same advice can’t apply to female liars. i will be expressing a sympathetic view towards female liars in this essay because my own feelings toward female liars are partially sympathetic, but certainly not without exception. i just want to be clear that if your life has been fucked up by, or if you’ve been controlled and abused by a liar, you are under no obligation to feel any sympathy towards liars. the same for if it hasn’t been and you just dislike liars for any reason! i know i hold these views for a specific reason and my analysis comes through a specific lens. please don’t think i am excusing the damage liars do by talking about some of the inner workings that result in the lies. there will be a section of how to spot liars that may be helpful if you want to just skip the rest.

so with that groundwork laid, the first complication is that i separate liars into two types of categories. the first is the kind of liar i am recovered from being, the kind i call a compulsive/habitual liar and exaggerator. the second is a sociopath or narcissist. this is tricky because i believe that lying all the time results in a certain loss of empathy for what it means to be lied to. the lack of empathy that would normally separate sociopaths/narcissists from non-sociopaths/narcissists is blurred. there are two categories i name within compulsive/habitual liars & exaggerators, and there is more on this in the section how to spot a liar.

this is a very difficult and intimate essay to write and i hope it helps at least a few women. if you have clarifying questions or want to discuss this further, feel free to message me. what it was like to be a liar

"the liar fears the void." adrienne rich, on lies, secrets and silence (read here)

i’m completely sure of the first time i lied or why, but i think it was this: as a child, i witnessed another child being struck by a car and killed. i believe this witness of traumatic death and the response i got for sharing about it is the root of my lying. i remember being at a children’s church event where the event had been discussed, most likely to ask for prayer for me, and i was cornered by two older boys and grilled about the experience. they wanted to know the details, but above all, they wanted to know if it was cool to see someone die. it hadn’t been, and they weren’t impressed by the details. they recounted for me more gory examples they’d seen on tv and left me sitting on the ground, stunned. there was no big decision from a little girl to stop being vulnerable by telling the truth, but that’s exactly what happened. i had gotten the message that what happened to me was not a good enough story, and i would carry that into adulthood.

i tell this intimate story to present one of the core concepts of my understanding of compulsive/habitual liars & exaggerators: they lie because they believe the truth is not worth telling - “nobody would care about me if i told the truth.”

i started telling exaggerated, gory versions of the story to other kids. the reactions were much more intense. this resulted in intense, conflicting emotions; it was much more satisfying to have a reaction that mirrored the intensity of what i felt, but it was also compounded by the pain of feeling like what i went through wasn’t good enough and the knowledge that i was lying. this is another core concept - liars are unable to feel/receive the genuine empathy/sympathy they are being given because it is being given to a false, constructed personality & a falsified trauma history. this compounds the feeling that “nobody would care about the truth if i told it.” this results in someone who cannot move forward in their trauma healing even with support, even with the appearance of moving forward, because not only are the actual wounds not being addressed, the liar is stuck in a self-perpetuating cycle of minimizing their own actual experiences by presenting exaggerated narratives with the same core.

so, with these seeds of becoming a liar planted, i discovered the internet, and that’s where things started to well and truly get out of control. at a very early age i had grasped the basics of catfishing and encountered (although i didn’t realize it then) different online communities that were full of liars. it was like a battlefield of who was having the worst life. i spent a lot of my preteen and teen years on livejournal in toxic communities, trying to keep up with all the lies. i believe this is when lying transformed from a defensive mechanism into both a compulsion and a method of control.

by lying, i could control two things one conscious, one unconscious. it was obvious to me i could control how people thought of me, but i didn’t understand i was also controlling how i thought of my own life and trauma. things had extended well past the root trauma of witnessing vehicular manslaughter and had extended to varied childhood sexual trauma and physical and emotional abuse. the false narratives i threw up around the actual experiences and the reactions they got made me believe “a lie is better than the truth”.

things grew from there and began flavoring my relationships with people i wanted a friendship with in earnest, not just brief or shallow encounters with strangers online. it became more and more compulsive and habitual to lie and exaggerate. i started using the lying to avoid accountability in situations where i’d done something wrong - for example, in fleeing a situation, i left a room a friend had let me stay in for free during a period of homelessness incredibly filthy and damaged, but in the retelling it became that he’d kicked me out because of my “bad mental health” and i became the blameless victim. while there were instances of him being cruel to me about mental health struggles during this time, the fact remained that i did not hold up my end of the deal he offered (cleaning in exchange for staying there) and fucked up his home before running away from the situation. to avoid dealing with the shame of my responsibility, i simply lied it away.

many liars become functionally addicted to avoiding accountability, blame and shame. when the process of rewriting a narrative has already been established, it’s a pretty easy & natural leap from making your trauma seem more “worthwhile” to making your SELF seem more “worthwhile”, all the time while having the internal experience of your experiences and self being seen as utterly worthless without the lies. one pattern that was the most difficult to shake was the habit of exaggerating. i think of exaggerating in this context as the process of intensifying a real experience. i'll share an example i find particularly shameful - i had a pattern of being given upsetting looks or being laughed at in public and, when reporting those incidents, exaggerating them into outright, blatant street harassment, being pointed at, or approached. never mind that i HAD sometimes experienced outright and blatant street harassment, being pointed at, or approached, it needed to be every time something happened for me to feel comfortable reporting how fucked up it made me feel.

the longer you lie, the more distorted your thinking about the truth is. by the time i got around to recovery, i genuinely believed that the things i had gone through were insignificant because of how they looked in comparison to the lies. i also believed no one could love me knowing that i’d lied. i was also totally incapable of trusting anyone else because of my untrustworthiness. i'd also begun lying about insignificant things in a compulsive way. the habit of controlling the narrative had gotten so far out of hand that i was unable to reliably report something as simple as how many pieces of toast i had that morning or what color a cat i saw was. the positioning of lying as safety and telling the truth as vulnerability was completely in control of my life and my ability to communicate with other people.

i did not start recovering from a lifetime of lying until about 4 years ago, about a year into my current relationship, and a year before i joined the gender critical & radical feminist community. how to spot a liar

i said in the introduction that i believe this is an essential discussion in our community of women, and i hold that belief whole-heartedly. within the category of compulsive/habitual liar & exaggerator, i think of there being two more subcategories: controlling liars & passive liars. i think that my names for these categories are not ideal but i'm not sure what else to call them. i know that one category named as "controlling" seems to imply that there is a way you can lie about that is not wrong, hurtful and harmful, but that is not my belief. the difference between the two is how the lies are used.

passive liars lie when asked about or offering stories about their life, whether on a larger scale (life stories) or a day to day basis. they lie in conversation. the control they exert is over the narrative. controlling liars do all the same things, but extend to using the controlled narrative to control other people. i understand that some people consider and categorize lying itself as an inherently abusive act, and i would never deny the trauma that can come from finding out you've been lied to. the difference between a controlling liar and a passive liar is an active process of abuse and control instead of the more "passive" effects of lying that come with all lies.

i am mainly writing this section of the essay to try to raise awareness on the tactics and processes used by controlling liars so that potential victims of them can spot them. controlling liars wreak havoc in communities and many abusers are controlling liars. they are frequent and often skilled utilizers of emotionally controlling a situation, gaslighting, and many forms of manipulation. however, by saying that they're skilled, i don't want to imply that any given controlling liar could successfully con and control any person. controlling liars thrive in communities of traumatized, hurting, loving women. women who have been hurt and believe other women about being hurt are perfect targets for controlling liars. controlling liars are discerning in who they select to groom and eventually control, abuse and target women who are naive, compassionate, and/or generous.

one of the first things a liar (controlling or passive) often does when entering a relationship is testing their possible victim. this generally involves dropping a very intense, painful story of trauma in the lap of the person they're lying to and seeing how they react. i find that many passive liars do this in a much more subtle way, but controlling liars will lead with it. they are looking for big responses, an outpouring of sympathy. if they get it, they will often share several more traumatic events in succession, sometimes slowly increasing the severity or unlikeliness of these events. they are counting on empathy, compassion, and guilt (of doubting a woman's trauma) to keep your skepticism and analytical mind in check. it's very difficult to talk about this part of the process because it is undeniable that many super traumatized women do not have well-made boundaries of where and when and how much it is appropriate to share trauma - just because someone dumps a ton of trauma on you with very little warning doesn't necessarily mean they're a liar. and as i tried to establish in the first section, it also doesn't mean she's not traumatized even if she is lying.

if someone is doing this trauma dump on you and you suspect she's lying or exaggerating, there is no need to tell her that. i recommend strongly against it because of the damage that could to do to a woman who isn't lying. one thing i would suggest for handling this type of situation is setting a boundary within it. controlling liars (and really, any kind of abuser), hate boundaries. saying something like, i really feel for you but i don't want to talk about this right now, or other boundary-setting and then watching her reaction both in the short and long term can be very helpful. controlling liars will often react to boundaries with anger and hurt that lingers throughout the whole relationship, attacking you for setting the boundary (how dare you, you don't know what i've been through, etc.), by threatening suicide or other extreme declarations of worthlessness (i guess i'll just kill myself, nobody can help me, i'm beyond saving) or by guilting you in other ways (i thought you were actually going to care about me but you're just like everyone else, etc.)

controlling liars can be extremely sympathetic and kind at first. if you are mutually talking about your traumas, they will often share very comparable situations to your own. it can feel amazing to meet someone who you feel like understands you so well and has such parallel experiences (meeting someone like this for real is a life-changing experience!). there is often an outpouring of details and information on both sides. this is extremely dangerous for the woman who is talking to the controlling liar. the liar's victim doesn't realize that the authentic connection is one way and that the information they have shared is now a liability.

one very important thing to understand about controlling liars is that they are often very easily able to display emotion that reads as authentic or even IS authentic. as i said in the introduction of this essay, the kind of liars i'm talking about have a traumatic core to their lies. there is genuine pain inside a liar, but i can't stress enough how THIS IS NOT YOUR CONCERN when dealing with any liar, controlling or passive. liars choose to lie, and controlling liars choose to use those lies to control and abuse people. but i point this out because especially in real life, it is very hard to keep up an analytical or critical lens when someone is sobbing in front of you or displaying other distressing behaviors. the presence of genuine emotion does not mean the absence of lies.

controlling liars escalate their behavior within the relationships, beginning to use their false trauma narratives to justify cruel and abusive behavior. of course, people also use TRUE trauma narratives to justify their abusive and cruel behavior, but the unique and flexible nature of being a compulsive liar adds specific control tactics. there are a few red flags for these controlling behaviors. one is if someone's trauma (or illness) constantly one-ups yours. this constant one-upping can be subtle or extreme. many liars (from both categories) like to position themselves as the most hurt/damaged/suffering of all, as this gets them the maximum amount of pity, allows them to feel generous by assuring you that your lesser trauma is "still bad" and/or always having a leg up on you if it comes down to a pissing contests.

when you have upset or hurt a controlling liar or you are trying to confront them about something they've done to hurt you, they will immediately begin constructing a narrative to you in which they are absolved and you are not being properly respectful of their illness/trauma. this is often when the sharing that you've participated in earlier will come into play. controlling liars have no qualms about using the things you've shared against you in a variety of ways. they may express a previous abuser was right about you being an awful person (etc.), compare the details of your trauma and their trauma narrative, and just generally do everything they can to gain control in the situation and get you feeling guilty and apologetic.

another red flag of controlling liars is using new, undisclosed details of their trauma as a control tactic, whether it's derailing a situation to put the focus back on them, generating hype and sympathy if they feel like your interest is waning, or just further testing the limits of your loyalty and what they can make you believe. their stories get bigger and bigger, bit by bit. this is also part of how a controlling liar can slow boil you, starting with more reasonable stories but revealing more and more as time goes on and you're acclimated, so a story that would raise eyebrows if given at first just becomes natural, because you love this person and believe her incredible story of suffering and pain.

the last thing that controlling liars are very prone to is isolating (like most abusers) but also triangulating. triangulating is used for a few different things within the language of psychology (here's a writeup on its use in trauma informed therapy and two about its use in discussing narcissistic abuse) so i'm just going to explain what i am specifically using it for here. triangulating is a manipulation process used by controlling liars (and many other kinds of abusers) in which 3 people are involved. sometimes the controlling liar goes back and forth between two people, telling each that the other is mistreating the liar. this way they gain double sympathy and always have one of the people to fall back on if the other one gets out of the cycle. this can be used as a grooming tactic from leaping from one relationship to the next - a controlling liar says they are being abused and positions the person they're grooming as a savior, making it possible to begin abusing the savior as soon as the time/sympathy/support in their current relationship has run out.

i cannot emphasize enough that controlling liars prey on loving, compassionate, traumatized women. it's so horrible to me that having a kind and believing heart can be such a liability in a group full of women who are hurting and isolated by patriarchy, but i have watched controlling liars burn down the lives around them several times within this community, and countless times in other close-knit communities i've been in. once a controlling liar has you, it is incredibly difficult to extricate yourself from the situation, so i'm hoping this guide provides a framework for staying thoughtful and critical even in very emotionally intense situations with other women who are sick and/or hurting.

for more information on big name controlling liars, i would highly suggest these two documentaries: The Woman Who Wasn’t There and TalhotBlond. it's hard to find examples of controlling liars because the lines between them and sociopaths/narcissists are blurred. i think all sociopaths/narcissists are controlling liars, but i don't know if all controlling liars are sociopaths/narcissists, even if their actions are sociopath and/or narcissistic. i think that maybe the distinction isn't all that meaningful except within the context of addressing compulsive lying as a whole. how to stop being a liar

while the last section was addressing the tactics and details of dealing with controlling liars, this section is addressing passive liars directly. it is a very good sign if you read this far that you can, and should, stop lying. here are some of the steps i took.

the very, very first thing i had to do was face the harm of lying, both the harm to myself but especially the harm to other people. for a long time i didn’t really think about my lying and exaggerating that much. i just did it. i felt permanently, inescapably alone. no one except another liar knows how alone you are with your lies, and i’m telling you, i know. i was in a prison completely of my own making telling people who genuinely cared about me a bunch of fake shit to selfishly try to protect myself. it is selfish to burden people with false stories. it turns something that can be intimate, healing, and beautiful into a farce. on the side of it being harmful to myself, there was a reason i felt alone - because i was. if nobody knows the real you and what you've actually been through, the real you is incapable of accepting love, understanding your own experiences, and ultimately moving forward in the long, hard process of healing trauma.

it comforted me that i wasn't a controlling liar, and for a long time i'd felt superior about not using my lies to control people in the ways i've described above. this was a bullshit thing to feel superior about. facing that my lies still had the ability to control and hurt was one of the hardest things i've ever done in my life. i was lucky enough to have a loving, supportive partner and supportive and understanding friends. once i'd told the people i was closest with that i was a liar and had misrepresented a lot of things from my past, the processing of stopping lying and untangling lies from truth began.

one thing i didn't expect to deal with was a surprising amount of confusion about what was false and what was fact. the combination of lying from an extremely early age with the distorted, cracked, and gapped memories of a traumatized child and young adult who often abused drugs that affected memories meant that this process was painstaking and confusing. the shame was intense - to admit the reality of situations in which i'd lied about to disguise the actions i'd taken and the blame i'd shared was so difficult. to be vulnerable about the things that had actually happened to me instead of the narratives i'd hidden them behind was terrifying on a level i can't describe. the worst was realizing some things i'd told myself were lies weren't lies at all.

i feel frustrated because writing these few short lines can't tell you, my fellow liar, what it would be like if you decided to confess you're a liar and try to stop lying today, right now. it feels fucked up. you will have to face not only the breaking down of the internal walls that have kept your secrets safe for all these years but also the reality that you are not a trustworthy person and that people may not respond to you as a trustworthy person after you tell them that you're a liar. when i was lying, i was found to be extremely trustworthy, and giving that up hurt so badly, but i'm both pleading with you and challenging you to do it.

i can't describe to you how incredible it feels to tell the truth. the truth will genuinely set you free. knowing that what you're saying is true and that you fought hard to say it is one of the most fulfilling feelings i know of. working hard to speak and act with integrity and regaining trust from some people feels amazing too. i have made more progress in these few years that i've been recovering from compulsive lying than i did during the rest of my life. i have friendships in which i've never lied now. there are people who only know true things about me. when i feel the compulsion to lie, i've gotten to a point where 99% of the time i can simply say, "i feel like lying about this but, (telling the truth)." when i do tell a lie, i try to admit to it as quickly as possible, within the day, and apologize and explain why, and 99% of these lies are strange, inconsequential lies that might be categorized as "harmless" by some people. i don't know if i can categorize them as harmless, because of what they mean for the way i've acted in my own life.

it's hard to tell you how to stop lying in a list of steps or bullet points but i'll try to sum it up

- face the harm you've done and decide that it matters - tell the people you've lied to that you've done so - understand and accept that people may be angry with you, not want to speak to you, or hate you - do the internal work of facing the truths behind your lies - take responsibility for the things you're responsible for - call yourself out when you want to lie - stop lying & start telling the truth

if you didn't read that adrienne rich essay before, read it now. i was lucky enough to be recommended it pretty early on in my radical feminist journey. i'll leave you with this excerpt

"Truthfulness, honor, is not something which springs ablaze of itself; it has to be created between people.

The possibilities that exist between two people, or among a group of people, are a kind of alchemy. They are the most interesting thing in life. The liar is someone who keeps losing sight of these possibilities... The possibility of life between us."

the indescribable joys of genuine connection, integrity, and honesty await you. thanks for reading.

#compulsive lying #radfem #abuse

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