#for reference he's an old project of mine that i got nervous about

[stellarhistoria]

^ THIS BITCH MADE ME REMEMBER HIM. NOW I WANNA SEE IF PEOPLE WANNA GET INVOLVED IN HIS GROUP

AUGH!

[baby-yongbok]

Baby its 9:30 am on a MONDAY. And here i am thinking, brain rotting over sex worker!seungmin and undiscovered pain slut!reader.

Like she knows what shes into, shes read the fanfiction, she knows what gets her going bit shes never acted it out with anyone, ya know?

So when seungmin grabs her by the hair and spits in her face shes 🫠🤤 "do it again"

9:30 am... IT WAS 9:30AM when you sent this. I was getting ready to see my THERAPIST. You made me wanna curse with the all the FILTHY thoughts you got running through my head🫠😭 As a masochist I love you for this request.

Masochist?

Sex Worker!Seungmin x Fem!Reader

A/N: Seungmin is referred to as Sky + Started a new medication so writing this beat my ass. My brain isn't mine yet, I'm sorry if it sucks

Word Count: 1,753

Warnings: Hair Pulling, Slapping, Spit Play, Cursing, Degradation, Biting, Choking (Sorry If I missed any)

✨Masterlist✨

You had to try it. You had to know what it was like but you couldn’t do it with anyone you knew and there’s no way that you’d trust a random guy from a bar to fulfill this need; they probably couldn’t even make you cum if they tried. That’s how you ended up here, in a motel room that was surprisingly clean and a hot guy that you hand picked like a thanksgiving turkey standing across from you leaning against the wall by the window. You fiddled with the hem of your shirt trying to look anywhere but at him. If someone would’ve told you that you were gonna hire a sex worker in the future to test out your pain kink you’d laugh in their face yet here you are doing exactly that.

“I take it that you’re nervous?” His tone is dry yet curious. His eyes haven’t left your frame ever since you two got to the room, you figure that he’s studying you so that he can do his job in the best way possible but you also have no fucking clue how this works.

“Uh, yeah.” Your words come out quieter than you wanted and you internally curse at yourself for it, you must be the most boring client ever.

“Then what’s the point of this?” His tone is flat and a bit harsh. It should bother you but it has you pressing your thighs together instead, something that the man in front of you noticed right away. “Are you a virgin or something?”

You look forward for a second trying your best to work up the courage to look him in the eyes but his raised eyebrow and crossed arms make you feel nervous all over again. You settle at staring at his feet instead.

“No, I’m not a virgin.” You scoff a bit at the question before sighing. “I just want to try something.”

“Alright? Spit it out.” Your thighs press together again at his rough tone confirming his suspicion. He internally smiles at himself for figuring you out. 

“I just, I want to try out this kink and I’ve read about it and I’ve watched porn on it but I’ve just never done it so I -” You’re cut off by the man’s annoyed groan as his arms fall to his sides and he shifts his position against the wall.

“What are you, a five year old? Get to the damn point.” He watches you carefully taking in your body language which is the same as before only this time you whine a bit under your breath.

“I think I have a pain kink and I wanna try it out.” Your words come out in a shy whisper and the man in front of you scoffs.

“Can you speak? Why are you whispering?” He takes a step towards you, bending forward a bit to catch your gaze. You glance at him for a second before looking away.

“Repeat yourself.” He hisses at you as he straightens himself back up. The truth is that he heard exactly what you said but he enjoyed watching you react to him way too much to take it easy on you and from what he could tell you were enjoying it too.

“I- I said that I think I have a pain kink and I want to try it out.” You projected your voice this time, forcing yourself to sit up straighter and look up into his eyes for a second.

“Oh.” He clicks his tongue and nods his head as he slowly takes a couple of steps towards you. “You’re a pain slut?” 

Your eyes flutter shut briefly before you shake your head. “I guess.. I haven’t had the chance to actually try it, hence why you’re here”

He slowly steps towards you until he’s right in front of you. You stare down at his black combat boots, too shy to look into his dark gaze. “So you want me, a complete stranger, to rough you up?” 

His tone is teasing and condescending and you absolutely love it. 

“Yes.. sir” He scoffs above you, squatting down in front of you, he successfully catches your gaze this time and you feel like you have no choice but to hold it.

“Call me Sky, not sir.” You nod your head at him and he lightly rests his hand on your shoulder. You jump ever so slightly at the sudden contact but he doesn’t seem the slightest bit concerned or bothered by your reaction. He actually seems to be entertained by it. 

“Is that your real name?” You ask out of curiosity and he laughs sarcastically.

“You think I’d give some lonely girl like you my real name?” He shakes his head at you, his dark eyes never leaving yours. “Be forreal.” 

“Sorry.” You look back down at your lap as an embarrassed blush runs over your cheeks.

“Will you just fucking look at me, already.” His hand quickly moves from your shoulder and laces into the roots of your hair, yanking your head back and forcing your eyes to land on his. A loud moan erupts from your throat as the sting from his grip sends chills down your spine and a wave of lustful heat washes over you.  “We can talk about your fantasies all night or I can fuck you. You’re the one paying me so you decide.”

You swallow hard as your breathing picks up a bit, you take a deep breath mustering up all of your courage before speaking. “Do that again.”

A wicked grin tugs at the corner of his lips before it fades into an expression of faux confusion. 

“Do what again?” He mocks you, tilting his head slightly. “This?” 

He fists the roots of your hair again pulling you up with him as he stands. A pained hiss followed by a deep moan leaves your parted lips as you rise to your feet. Your hands instinctively wrap around his forearm in an attempt to ease the pressure. 

“How pathetic” He hisses before he purses his lips and spits in your face. You feel his saliva paint your cheek and a groan escapes you. He pulls you closer to him so that your faces are no more than an inch from each other. “You liked that didn’t you? You like being spit on and treated like a slut?”

His free hand comes up to your face and wipes the spit from your cheek. 

“Open.” You part your blushed lips just enough for him to slide his spit covered fingers into your mouth. You lick the saliva off of his fingers mixing it with your own and he shakes his head at you as he watches you melt into his grip on your hair. “Disgusting”

He lets go of your hair with a slight push causing you to stumble back into the bed. 

“If I do something that makes you uncomfortable just ask me to stop, think you can do that?”

“Yeah.” You meet his gaze with a new found confidence. You cross your arms against your chest as the two of you stare at each other for a few seconds too long “I’m not paying you to stand there.”

A grin stretches across his lips, he steps forward lacing his fingers around your throat and pushing you back into the mattress. “Someone’s feeling good now, huh?”

He hovers above you, supporting himself with one hand on the mattress next to your head while the other moves from around your throat and lands a sharp slap onto your cheek. You groan at the sudden sting, pressing your thighs together. He slaps you again this time a bit harder while he wedges his knee between your legs and presses it firmly against your cunt. 

“Fuck, Sky.” The words leave your lips in a breathy moan as he wraps his fingers back around your throat pressing firmly at the sides and drawing a deliciously sexy whimper from you. He fights back his own satisfied groan as he leans down into your shoulder and bites at the exposed flesh just hard enough to leave a mark. 

“She likes slapping, hair pulling, choking, and biting.” He pulls back from your shoulder, admiring how red your skin got from his previous actions, that’s sure to leave a pretty bruise for you to remember him by. “But can she cum from it?”

“Yes.” You moan out as you grind yourself against his knee, the soaked fabric of your panties causing the friction to feel even better. 

“Show me then.” You nod your head as you continue to work your core against his knee, surely leaving a stain on jeans. Your body trembles as you close your eyes and arch your back, The pressure of his hand around your neck bringing you dangerously close to the edge. Just as you settle into the sensations a new one is added, you gasp as you take in the sharp pain of your sensitive nipple being pinched and pulled between his fingers. You let out a loud moan as your  peak of pleasure sneaks closer and closer. 

“Oh my god” You arch your back further into his body as you feel yourself come undone, your body trembling as pleasure floods through you. 

“So she can cum from it.” Your eyes flutter shut as you try your best to catch your breath. You want to say something, anything but you simply can’t form any words. Instead you find yourself smiling out of pure satisfaction and pleasure.

“More.” You breathe out as you start to crave the high all over again. “More, please.”

“She’s begging, huh?” He lets go of your throat and lands another sharp slap across your face before spitting down at you. “Your desperation is pitiful.” 

You moan at his words, your hands blindly searching for a place to rest. You sigh lightly when you brush across the tent in his jeans. Your eyes open and land on his before trailing down his torso and finding the bulge of his hard cock. “Fuck me.”

“Gladly, but first..” His hand slid into your hair again, fisting it tightly and pulling you up off of the bed. You stand with him and before you can place both feet on the floor he pushes you down by your shoulder until both of your knees meet the motel carpet and you’re gazing up at him. Your glazed eyes meet his dark ones as he bends forward slightly. 

“Beg for it.”

[lepoppeta]

Is there a ship or song you've been wanting to talk about? If so, share it! (I can't think of a ship other than the ones I've already asked about...)

current fandom interest would be hazbin hotel (unfortunately) so... i guess ill be talking about that.

out of all of the rarepairs ive concocted for that questionable amalgamation of a cartoon, my favourite has to be alastiel, or alstor and zestial (i saw one person refer to it as "victorianradio" but as far as i know zestial died during the rule of the tudors). i was inspired by the fact that zestial is the only male character, let alone the only person, that alastor treats with an iota of respect. zestial is so powerful and long-lived that he even makes alastor visibly nervous, which is saying something. zestial, despite his lofty rank, seems to admire alastor for his air of mystery (he calls him an "enigma", almost fondly) and alastor takes this as "quite the compliment". theyre both terribly old fashioned and i think theyd at least get along very well.

as far as songs go, ive only found one - their vibe is really hard for me to pin down because im essentially working from scratch. i dont have any prior songs that really fit them.

the song in question is valentine (laufey), and it would be from alastors point of view.

ive rejected affection for years and years, now i have it and damnit its kind of weird. he tells me im pretty, dont know how to respond. i tell him that hes pretty too - can i say that? dont have a clue.

i love the idea of alastor being the bashful party for once - in most, if not all, of his popular ships (radiostatic, radiobelle, radiohusk, radiodust) hes either got a cryptic upper hand by way of riddles and his magic, or hes dissolved into a flustered rage by a bombardment of sexual innuendo. zestial is old as the hills and patient as death and in my opinion not terribly into the whole sex thing either, so hes perfectly happy to wait until alastor stops fumbling and figures himself out.

if im to be frank, its a bit of a projection on my part too - alastor is canonically somewhere on the aroace spectrum, and i also consider myself as such, and considering a potential romance with zestial is kind of me thinking about a sort-of personal fantasy of mine and how i approach love and intimacy, both in fiction and in real life. id love to write it for the public one day, and maybe someone else who feels the same way as i do will be comforted.

[satanlikedmyunhappylife]

2nd November 2022 - Blog 11

So today's class ran a little bit differently because I was in a car accident the week before. I am joined online on teams that the entirety of this week as I don't feel comfortable driving in at the minute.

In Kim's class I briefly heard them speak about propaganda and how it can be censored. An example Kim gave was how Elon Musk is now charging to allow free speech. She also stated then that people were given "big words" that we have to present in two weeks time. People are put into groups and the word was then researched.

Kim then called me one-to-one to make sure I understood what was going on. She told me that I had the word Schadenfreude. I was quite excited to learn about this word and think about the meanings behind it. Kim went on to give me some research points. She described it as a human abilities laugh at someone's misfortune. The research points were why is it only a German term, why don't we have a English version or why does another language have their version of the word, what is the origin and what is the psychological and emotional meaning to the word.

Callum then got in touch with me and told me that I was then in a group with him. We had the word culture. Suddenly I got a message from Ayesha which was telling me that I'm in the group and she was telling me about the project. I then got a little bit confused and messaged Callum asking him what was going on because he was in class. He said that there was a miscommunication between Kim and Stuart and I could decide which group to go with. We have a uni group chat and I saw that Callum had asked if Jack and Norten were going to be coming in. I decided to go with Callum so he could have someone to communicate with in the session. So culture is my new word.

Instantly I set up a visme project for this. This is just a quicker way of creating a more sleek PowerPoint design. I also set up a Trello workspace for his old. When Lee introduced it, I didn't really see me gelling with it but after using it for his project, it really works well it helps you and your team be aware of the tasks at hand and the tasks that need to be completed.

I created a Pinterest Moodboard that links together a couple different ideas of the word culture and words that can be linked and connected with culture. By this I mean culture heritage, culture appropriation, culture in modern day society et cetera.

I then also went on to research what the word culture actually means. I decided to visit two websites and have a look at the Collins English dictionary that I have at home. It's just played for a more varied group of sources. These are all added to a Google document under the title bibliography. I decided to use Google Docs because whenever I update it it automatically updates for everyone if I share the link. I added the link into a section on our Trello workspace so everyone can upload theirs and then when we decide to come together and make the presentation we can just take all of the references straight out of there.

Today in Leonies session she had mentioned the business cards that I printed off last week and asked if any of us handed them out. I wasn't able to really had any of mine out because they weren't cut up. This was because they only had tried to find a guillotine but she couldn't find one that works properly in the college. I also wasn't really able to have any out because I was a little bit nervous meeting all them new people. I think the more I go to the creative garden events and the more I don't use to creative networking sessions, I will be able to do this.

She reminded us we had six weeks to the presentation with Lee was supposed to be in so we really don't have long. I think as a group we are maybe a little bit behind but it's not something that unsalvageable.

So in today's session we were asked to look online for InDesign template so we can use for the project report which has to be about 2000 words. We also have two research what exactly a professional project proposal in the creative industry is and if we have time, revisit the website creation.

So what actually is a project proposal?

This website helped me slightly to understand what is needed to create a professional project proposal. It has stages that need to be implimented when creating a succesfull project proposal:

Objective Instead of offering a broad outcome, be as specific as possible. Don’t just say “create a website”. Break down the outcome that you and the client establish after your initial meeting.

For instance, if they already have an existing website but want to increase revenue by a certain percentage with it, figure out how to do so by using design and marketing tools for a cohesive overall message. So a better objective would be “to help the client build a user-friendly website so their revenue can increase by __ %.”

Scope The project should have clearly defined inclusives. Don’t make the mistake of being vague about what you hope to accomplish, because that is the main ingredient of scope creep (more on this as we go along). Instead, write down all of the included and expected tasks involved, and how you intend to accomplish each one.

For example, if you will be providing content for a website, how often will you do written or researched work for it? Would you do the uploading of the content yourself? Are original images part and parcel of your agreement? Do you need to coordinate with programmers and other people involved in the project? Identifying the roles you need to fill for the project will help prevent clients from sneaking in other tasks that can cost you time, effort, and money.

Working Period You will need to establish a realistic timeline to accomplish the project. Come up with a doable working period to finish every task you need to do to get to your desired outcome, then leave some wiggle room for improvements and revisions. Should complications arise, you and the client can refer to the timeline and see if you are on the same page as scheduled or if adjustments need to be made.

Cost This is where your talent fee, overhead costs, and other tools that will help you with the project figure in. Make sure your pricing method is reasonable and consistent so as not to scare away potential clients. When computing for costs, clearly state if the total is inclusive/exclusive of taxes.

Revisions and Approval Ask for feedback at specific points of the timeline so you will know if you need to revise something, or if it’s good to go. Have the client sign off on each accomplished and approved task so that there will be no misunderstanding down the line. You can allow for a certain number of revisions within reason and anything exceeding the allotted amount can come with a fee.

Terms of Payment Include the total contract cost and the working period (how many months). Then, break down the payments you expect from the client, whether it’s 50% upon signing of contract and another 50% upon project completion, or in increments of monthly payments. Include mode of payment, and if you or the client are willing to cover fund transfer fees, currency exchange discrepancies, etc.

These are all, apparently, vital for a creating a project proposal the works professionally for the creative industry.

I think the way in which I will complete this is to break it down into these points into paragraphs. This way I will be able to make sure that every point is explored and hopefully score a good grade from this.

But what actually is it? Accoring to the website above,

“The Project Proposal is the initial document used to define an internal or external project. The proposal includes sections such as title, start and end dates, objectives and goals, requirements, and a descriptor of the proposed solution.”

This has given me some kind of idea what I need to consider when thinking about writing my proposal.

Leonie also shared a padlet that included some project proposal examples.

Indesign research:

To start with, I went on adobe stock. This website has loads of templates, some free, that you can add on to your indesign doccument.

Upon first examination, it's quite difficult to find a template that's actually free. There's no filter on the website to make sure that I'm only viewing three templates and you have to buy the license which you can only buy a pack of five for about £29.

[ifmywishescametrue]

omg now im jealous about all of the breaking up and making up stories!!! they're all so wonderful but is it okay to ask for a steve/tony one? i know you've made one inspired by ts (amazing) and this time, maybe they meet/bump in a coffee shop? idk angst potential but also hopeful/happy ending aahhh. your stories are amazing esp ivy!!! thank you! <3

thank you so much!! it ended up being more cute than angsty, but I hope you like it!

Steve's pencil drifts idly across the page of his sketchbook with no end vision in mind. He's killing time until Nat shows up, which could be anywhere between the next five minutes and the next two hours with her vague text that simply said running late. When he looks up to reach for his near empty coffee cup, he freezes with his hand in the middle of the air.

At first he thinks it might not even actually be him. Tony's hair was never quite this well styled before, always a tangled mop on his head that sometimes fell into his eyes. Steve used to spend hours sometimes running his fingers through those wild curls while Tony slept on his chest. It's been tamed since then, cut shorter and held into place by some type of product. The facial hair is new, too. He remembers a time when it would always come in patchy and uneven, and Tony would pout as he shaved away the latest attempt at looking older than he was. The eighteen year old boy in oversized hoodies and stained jeans he met years ago has been replaced by a man in a well-pressed, expensive looking suit with a leather briefcase, like he just stepped out of a boardroom a minute ago. From what Steve has read about his life since they broke up, he probably did.

Steve stares without fully meaning to and for much longer than he would have if it was intentional. He watches him order his drink and smiles when the barista’s eyes widen at what he knows is an overly complicated order, wondering if Tony ever did finish his quest to find that perfect combination of syrup flavors, sugar, and cream that only he would ever like.

He catches the double take when Tony notices him there, right as he’s taking his first sip of the iced drink, and the cough when he chokes on it is anything but subtle. Steve looks away with red cheeks and tries to pretend he wasn’t staring, but it’s a futile effort. He can’t say he minds, though. Not when it means Tony walks over to him and unceremoniously drops himself into the chair across from him.

His mouth forms a familiar smirk, and he says, “You seem to have a staring problem, Rogers.”

Suddenly, Steve is nineteen again, falling hopelessly in love with the boy in his introductory chemistry class. It felt sort of like fate at first when they were paired together for the final project, and Steve remembers thinking that his chances were shot to hell when Tony sat down next to him and said those exact words. He never was any good at being discreet.

Back then, for that first time, all he could manage was a stuttered apology in response. But eventually it became their thing. Something just for them that no one else could ever understand. When Steve would watch him from across the room at parties, because he knew how much Tony loved having his eyes on him, and Tony would saunter over with that same smirk and those same words, there was only ever one reply.

“Guess I just really like what I see,” Steve says, and Tony’s face splits into a grin that matches Steve’s own. He’s still beautiful, even if it’s different now. Less softness to his appearance and more defined edges and sharp lines, but heart stoppingly beautiful nonetheless. He doesn’t quite say as much, but he does comment, “You do look good, by the way. Different, but good.”

Tony’s smile softens into another familiar one. It’s his smile for compliments, when he’s thinking self-deprecating thoughts that he won’t voice. Instead he’ll turn the attention back around, shifting the spotlight.

“So do you. The good part, but not really the different part.”

Steve runs a hand through his hair, contemplating if not looking different contributes to the good or not. He should look different somehow, shouldn’t he? After two and a half years not seeing each other in person and what feels like a lifetime’s worth of heartbreak in between then and now, he should look as changed as he feels. As changed as Tony looks now, like he’s someone new entirely. He’s pretty sure the t-shirt he’s wearing now is one he owned back then.

“Thanks,” Steve says anyway, for lack of anything better.

Just before it has the chance to fall into awkward silence, Tony says, “I didn’t know you were in New York these days. I would’ve called or something if I’d known.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Would you have?”

“I don’t know, maybe. I would’ve thought about it, at least. You know, stalked you online, found your number, dialed and hung up a few times.”

Steve laughs, fiddling with the straw wrapper from earlier to give himself something to look at other than Tony. “I moved back last year. Thought about calling, but I figured you were busy. Didn’t want to waste your time.”

It’s only a partial truth. He did think about calling when he came to Brooklyn after his year-long internship in London ended, but he didn’t want to know what Tony would say if he did. If he would have some sort of transparent excuse to avoid seeing him or if it would be an outright rejection.

“I would’ve made time for you,” Tony says, so painfully sincere that Steve has to look up again to meet his eyes.

He wonders if Tony is thinking of that last fight, if it’s a purposeful or coincidental reference to some of what Steve said. It was by far the worst fight they’d ever had, all over the phone with an ocean between them and so many things that Steve still wishes he could take back. Accusations flew on both sides until the entire thing was blown so completely out of proportion, yet impossible to reel back in. He should have just hung up the phone before it went that far. Before he could tell Tony that he always felt unimportant compared to everything else in his life, which was sometimes true but entirely unfair. Before Tony could say that Steve talked about Peggy in the same way he used to talk about him, and he didn’t have to finish the thought for Steve to understand the implication.

“Are we talking about it?” Steve asks.

Tony shrugs, feigning casual, but just the corner of his lip is between his teeth in that way that means he’s nervous and trying to hide it. “I guess that depends on what this is.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we said back then that maybe it was just bad timing. You were in London, and I was in Boston until graduation, and it was always going to be a bit of a mess, but there was always that someday chance, right? So maybe this is someday, and we talk about it, and try to get it right this time,” Tony says. “Or maybe that was just something we said and didn’t mean, and I ask you about your life, and you ask about mine, and we talk and laugh and pretend that we’re friends again for the next half hour or so before we go our separate ways.”

It’s an easy choice, really. If there’s one thing that Steve’s sure of, it’s that it’s always been him and always will be.

“I don’t want to go separate ways,” Steve says. “The first time was hard enough, and I never really moved on. I got better, but I don’t think I’ve been more than just fine in a long time.”

Tony nods slowly, “I kept thinking you would call, you know. Back then. I thought you would call and tell me that it was a mistake and it would be okay again, but you never did. Although, I guess I could’ve called, too.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“For the same reason as you, probably. I couldn’t risk it if you didn’t want me again. Couldn’t risk getting back together just to break up again, either. We weren’t exactly the poster children for making long distance work.”

“We were terrible at it, weren’t we?”

Tony’s smile is tinged with the pain of the past. “It’s kind of funny because I remember thinking that it might be a good thing for us when you told me about London. Can’t get sick of somebody if they’re not always around.”

“You thought I would get sick of you? You never told me that.”

“Why would I?” Tony laughs. “Just put all my insecurities on display like that? Come on, Steve, that doesn’t sound like me, does it?”

Steve laughs with him briefly, “No, but I could’ve told you back then that it wasn’t possible. Told you that I wanted you around all the time and I missed you every second you were gone. I might’ve even stayed if you had told me. I was thinking about it, you know? I almost turned the internship down. Probably would’ve if you’d asked even once for me not to go.”

“It was your career. I never would’ve asked you to give that up for me.”

“There would have been something else. Another job somewhere closer to you.”

“I still wouldn’t have asked,” Tony says. “And I would have told you to go if you’d said you were staying.”

Steve knows that, which is why they never talked about it much before he left. Tony pretended to be happy for him, and Steve pretended to be happy for himself, when really it already felt like the beginning of the end. A year apart is longer than it seems, and it didn’t take more than a few months to realize it.

“I never…” Steve starts, trailing off when he doesn’t quite know how to finish the sentence. “There was never anyone else. Not while we were together, and never with Peggy.”

“I know. I knew back then, too, that you were never that kind of person. Jealousy’s just a real bitch sometimes.”

“There’s really not been anyone since, either,” Steve adds, and Tony’s mouth quirks into a half smile. “I mean, a couple of people here and there, but nothing like what we were.”

“There’s not a whole lot out there like what we were, is there?”

Steve smiles, leaning back in his chair, “No, there’s really not. But I do remember reading a rumor that you got engaged.”

Tony groans, and it’s so much like he used to sound when he was nine pages deep into a ten page essay at three in the morning that Steve has to laugh.

“Don’t you dare laugh. That rumor haunts me, Steven,” Tony says, belied by a grin that he seemingly can’t control. “Do you know how I found out about my supposed engagement? When my mother called and asked why I hadn’t told her I was planning on proposing.”

“So I’m still the only person you’ve ever proposed to,” Steve teases, just for the way he knows Tony will get indignant about it.

“How many times do I have to tell you that one didn’t count?”

“You were on one knee, you asked a question, and you had a ring. All the boxes are checked, sweetheart.”

“It was a blue raspberry ring pop, and you ate it,” Tony argues. “Not to mention that I actually asked you to marry me someday in the distant future. That’s not a proposal.”

Steve laughs again, thinking about that day in the middle of their living room, just a few weeks before Steve got the call that would take him to London and change everything. It was almost like a joke, and for anyone else it would have been. Not for them, though, because Steve remembers the look in Tony’s eyes when he dropped down in front of him, spur of the moment and impulsive like almost everything was back then. He remembers how it still felt like a promise, even if it wasn’t the real thing.

“But I said yes, which I think technically means we’re still engaged.”

“Absolutely not,” Tony scoffs. “It’s going to be a production when we get engaged. Elaborate and planned and romantic as hell.”

“When, huh?” Steve grins.

Tony’s cheeks pinken a touch, but he doesn’t take it back. He reaches for Steve’s hand on the table. “Yeah, when. Is that alright with you?”

Steve threads their fingers together, holding on tight. “That’s alright with me.”

[princessozera]

The Obey Me cast doing the egg drop project

A/N: Unlike the very cute baby project head canons, that i can’t find in this exact minute but I will tag once I do, mine is purely stupid but it’s my favorite science “experiment” so let’s gooo...

MC not overly present, referred to as ‘you’ (2nd ppov)

Word count: 1.2k

Egg drop is the name of the game

No magic

No adhesives

and limited supplies.

And, from MC’s personal experience, you are NOT allowed to have a sibling hold the egg and push them off the building.

How well do the demons handle a classic elementary school experiment?

Lucifer

Damn you MC, stop giving Diavolo ideas, he already has too much shit on his plate

Thinks it is a waste of time and has half a mind to just throw the egg off the balcony by itself.

But like hell he’d willing lose any sort of competition.

Swaddled his egg in cotton and old shirts before  packing that tightly into an old shoebox. Dropped the egg straight off the balcony with no pizzaz

Egg: survived

Mammon

Thought it would be super easy, if human kids could do it of course he could too!

forgot about it until the morning of

a quick internet search and a stop at the convenience store; he put his egg in a jar of peanut butter, constantly checking on it throughout the day to make sure Beel hadn’t eaten the peanut butter.

Checks the egg one final time before confidently pitching it off of the balcony, watching in horror as the lid falls off because he didn’t screw the lid on tightly this final time

It was hard to see what he was yelling about from that height but you got the message pretty clearly when the egg lands before the bottle, covering your entire front in raw egg.

Egg died; Mammon disqualified

Leviathan

Leviathan was surprisingly ecstatic for this competition, it was time to show off his superior egg knowledge and impress MC and show up his brothers

has a thorough plan laid out, referencing  takes good care of the egg while he builds his drop. 

The day arrives and Levi is a bit nervous to throw the box, mostly because he’s grown so attached to this little chicken egg. 

In his hesitation to put the egg in, it starts to shake a little bit. Levi thinks it’s his own hand, but then there is an unmistakable tapping sound. Diavolo and Levi are there to witness the first ever chick born in the Devildom.

:0

“...Levi. You did use store bought eggs, correct?”

“...”

“They’d need to be in an incubator to grow at all Levi. Did you put the egg in an incubator?”

“. . .”

Egg is SUPER alive, too alive to continue the experiment.

 Levi may be disqualified but he’s a dad now!

Satan

Took this surprisingly seriously, more so because he wasn’t allowed to use magic.

Like, he literally made a full technical drawing with all of the components labeled and how they’d contribute to the overall design.

Made his with exactly 14 items, and was the lightest one from all of his brothers which he was very smug about. 1 shoe box, a Styrofoam cup, the egg, cotton, 6 skewers, and 4 rubber bands.

He was SO confident that his would work that he threw it down upside down

Egg survived ofc

Asmodeus

You were interested in seeing Asmo’s ideas but he kept them hidden until the day off, sneaking off to buy supplies in the dead of night. 

You had no idea what he could be planning but at least he seemed enthusiastic about this competition, even if it wasn’t usually his speed.

Asmo threw a little black box off the balcony the way a bride would toss back a bouquet and it landed with an unceremonious THUNK.

The egg inside? Unbroken, but covered from top to bottom in stickers and nail polish.

Debate #1

“You said no adhesives, and I didn’t use any!”

“Asmo, whats on the back of stickers? Directly touching the surface of the egg?”

“... That doesn’t even add much!”

“Well, nail polish increases the shell’s durabliity, enough coats and you could probably toss the egg by itself and it would be okay. That disqualifies you”

“You never said anything about changing the strength of the egg shell!”

“That’s what the adhesive rule was about!”

Barbatos settled it; since you didn’t explicitly mention changing the egg’s properties, Asmo was not disqualified.

Egg; survived

Beel

doesn’t get the point of this, but goes along with it anyways, asking you to hold on to his egg until the day he has to throw it.

goes with a classic main vessel + parachute design; borrowing 2 of Belphie’s pillows, tying them together with wire, and recyling old snack bags into a parachute

He even manages to go the entire school day without eating the egg! 

:D

Then everyone watched as the egg slips from between the pillows and the parachute all but catches fire, never fully opening on it’s descent

D:

Egg died; Beel, tried, but disqualified

Belphie

jumped

Yep. Belphegor JUMPED off of Diavolo’s balcony holding the egg.

You couldn’t help but scream even if it all turned out fine; Beelzebub caught Belphie before he hit the ground. 

Debate #2

“You said I couldn’t throw my BROTHERS off the ledge, you didn’t say anything about myself.”

“THE SELF-PRESERVATION INSTINCT WAS IMPLIED!”

“You’re just mad because I scared you”

“NO SHIT EDGE LORD”

“Demons can’t die from heights. Our bodies aren’t that fragile.”

“If you already knew that, it wasn’t an experiment then, was it!?”

“I was experimenting with my brother’s reflexes, loyalty and whether they cared enough about me to try to catch me, even knowing I’d be fine.”

“........”

The egg did survive, but Belphegor was ultimately disqualified because the experiment had to be physics/engineering/invention based and not psychological horror.

Diavolo

was excited but put in way more work than needed

Built a glider for his egg, gave it a cushioned seat and everything

It was beautiful to look at, but now you all had to wait a full 10 minutes for it to fall

Egg survived; Diavolo, Bougie

Barbatos

Is your fellow judge

offered you a change of clothes and an umbrella after both Mammon and Beel’s failed eggs

Simeon

tried being creative and made a dodecahedron out of straws, with the egg nestled in the center, suspended by panty hose

Good in concept, but the height proved to produce too much momentum and too high of a stopping force; the egg shot straight down, within the dodecahedron, and slammed into the ground

Egg died; Simeon disqualified

Luke

decided to put his cooking skills to use, testing out massive amounts of jello for shock absorption

he did ultimately place the egg in between layers of jello before encasing that within more jello, creating a behemoth 6 foot diameter jello ball

 The entire jello ball shatters on impact, one particularly large chunk knocking Mammon on his ass, but the ball was thick enough to take all of the impact force, the egg survived!

Egg, survived: Luke was given a bonus award for edibility and “wow I really did NOT think that was going to work”

Solomon

Solomon had never done this so he was excited to try it. He saw Luke’s idea and took some inspiration for it!

He threw a cake off the balcony.

Debate #3

“It has an egg IN it. Multiple in fact!”

“A cake is NOT an experiment”

“With Solomon’s cooking... it kind of is....”

“Then the eggs were in fact broken before they left the balcony! Disqualified!”

Ultimately, it was declared that Solomon’s experiment DID count, and the egg technically DID survive because the cake remained whole and even bounced after hitting the cobblestones.

[santigarcia]

Floppy Disk 💾

Human Touch Part Six

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

word count: 1.2k

rating: T for sexual references, some angst

summary: You see something you weren’t supposed to and things get heated. 

a/n: thank you all so much for reading this series! let me know what yall think! thank you to @punkpascal​ and @sergeantkane​​ as always!!

“So, are you coming with me or not?” You ask Nathan from your bed. He’s in the bathroom brushing his teeth, the door is open so he can hear you. “My mom is dying to know if you’re coming.”

You’re going home for the holidays, and you want to bring Nathan with you. Especially now that you’ve been together for almost a year. You miss your family, and you want to introduce him to them.

“I don’t know,” he spits in the sink and leans against the doorway. “What if they love me more than you? I don’t want to hurt your feelings,” he slowly starts to smile, and you throw a pillow at him, which he catches.

“Are you worried they won’t like you?”

“Oh, I know they won’t like me,” he laughs. “I don’t need their approval, but I know you do.”

“Is that what’s been bothering you?” you reach for him as he sits down on the bed. “Something is bothering you. Makes me nervous.”

“Nothing to worry about, okay? Now you get some sleep,” he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Where are you going?”

“Burning the midnight oil. Got a new idea, I need to work out the kinks.”

“Don’t stay up too late ok? And please decide. What if I say yes that you can fuck me in my childhood bedroom?”

“Fuck really? Then count me in as a yes!” he throws you a wink. He taps the doorframe with his hand before he leaves for his lab.

Since you can tell you’re going to be alone tonight, you get out of bed and make your way to the kitchen. You grab a snack (some chocolate- you made Nathan get you some when new freight came in) and go into your bedroom. Not the one you share with Nathan, but yours. The one he gave you.

Each room in the house is temperature regulated, some of which are for Nathan’s projects. His bedroom is a few degrees colder. He runs hot and if he’s too warm he gets drowsy. And he’s a little shit and turns it down colder so you’ll curl into him and your nipples poke through your shirt. But your room, your room he has a little warmer. If you’re ever in there it’s because you’re sleeping without him, and most times those are occasions like this when he’s working into the night.

You take your chocolate and curl into your bed, enjoying the warmth already. You’re not quite sleepy yet, so you pick up the TV remote and decide to watch some “Nathan TV” as you call it. His lab is on one of the channels, and you flick it over to watch what he’s doing.

What you see shocks you.

Nathan has another woman pinned up against the wall. He’s naked and so is she. You can hear his groans and you watch as he thrusts hard into her. You turn it off in horror before you can see anything else. Your mind starts racing, your blood runs cold. Surely, he didn’t bring another woman into the house without you knowing. Right?

You sit trying to catch your breath. The chocolate is half eaten and now melting in your hand. You scream and launch the chocolate bar at the TV and swing the bedroom door open. You storm down the hallway towards Nathan’s lab.

The door is closed, but it’s not locked. You shove it open and you find a very naked Nathan writing something down, he’s leaning over the tall tables in the lab. Normally you’d have delighted in seeing his ass, but not right now.

“Who is she? Where is she?” you start crying as soon as you open your mouth.

“Who?” Nathan turns, his expression quizzical and it makes your blood boil.

“You know who. I saw you on the TV.”

“You sure that wasn’t some footage of our greatest hits?” he smirks, “I like to play those sometimes.”

“Nathan, you ass. Her hair is a different color than mine! I thought you were better than this.”

“I hate to break it to you, but I have had other lovers here. Like I said, old footage.” He shrugs and goes back to making notes.

“Ok, then why are you naked?”

“What’s with the interrogation? Fuck. Sometimes I like to work naked. And yeah, okay I fucked a robot. Happy?”

You’ve had arguments before. Every relationship has disagreements. Most of your arguments with Nathan are small, easily resolved. Most revolve around habits he has due to being alone for years. Either you interfere with a train of thought, or he works too much and leaves no time for you. But those are worked around.

But this, this one feels different. You feel betrayed, and he’s acting so cold.

“A robot? So now you have to lie to me?”

“It’s not a lie.” His voice is dry, he very intentionally does not look up from his notes.

“Right, I forgot, you don’t mince words. And I guess that answers that then. I’ll go home alone.” You reach for the door, unable to look at him before he whips around.

“No, it doesn’t, don’t walk away!”

But you do. You don’t want to hear it. Robot or not – it still hurts. He picked them over you. You saw the woman, she had curves in all the right places you didn’t.

Why did she have to look so perfect if this was for science? And why is he so defensive? Are you not good enough?

You hoped this day would never come. But it hurts too much to stay. You call your cousin and it’s not long before she picks you up.

You fly home for the holidays, and you don’t fly back. Nathan texts you and calls you multiple times a day, but you ignore them. It hurts too much to talk to him. And you don’t trust yourself with him. With one word he could have you crawling back and you’re angry.

You’ll grow to regret ignoring him, but after some time the texts and calls stop. The last you hear from him is a few months later when boxes of your stuff arrive at your front door.

Months pass. A year or two goes by and you thought you moved on. You’re engaged now to a man named Jack. He’s kind, but honestly boring. You thought that’s what you needed, but there’s no passion in your life anymore. But he’s safe, and after what happened with Nathan, it’s more your family’s decision than it is your own.

Your life is simple. You live with Jack on his ranch, with little reminders of Nathan out there.

Until one day, you see a news story.

“Bluebook CEO, Nathan Bateman, survives a near fatal AI accident.”

You gasp seeing the story, causing your fiancé to look at you with question. You grab your phone and search all news stories related to him. From what you can gather, one of his AI’s stabbed him. Twice.

Tears well up in your eyes. What if you had been there, you could have stopped it. And you feel bad for him, this wasn’t how he would have wanted to show his AI masterpiece to the world.

“That’s not about your asshole ex is it?” Jack asks with a snort.

“Yes, it is actually,” you shake your head and continue to read. You look for where he’s recovering, you want to see him.

xx

tagging: @pascal-isaac​, @wasicskosgirl​, @velvetmel0n​, @huliabitch​, @shadow-assassin-blix​, @writefightandflightclub​, @aellynera​, @softboywriting​, @veuliee2​, @spider-starry​, @mylifeliterally​, @millllenniawrites​, @ntlmundy​, @foxilayde, @writingletterstothefire​, @mandoplease​, @anetteaneta​, @feelmyroarrrr​, @artsymaddie​, @shakespeareanwannabe​, @poedameronsbeard​, @deanfanatic67​​, @magicsuperheroes​​, @phoenixhalliwell​​, @that-one-weird-one​​, @mariesackler, @yourbucky084​​, @woakiees​

[your-lips-are-very-red]

St. Vincent x Emma Madden Interview

This is the text from the St. Vincent interview that Emma Madden was asked to not use. Since Miss Madden has decided to take it down, I wanted it to be available somewhere online - in case she manages to get all the cached versions taken down, too. 

SOURCE: https://archive.is/wFkLN

About a fortnight ago I was commissioned to interview St. Vincent, an artist I have been inspired by, impressed by, turned on by, compelled by, curious of, in awe of, occasionally suspicious of—for the better half of a decade. I try not to think about other journalists too much, but St. Vincent has developed a reputation for intimidating us. For her last press cycle, she made her interviewers crawl into a pink box; she would play a pre-recorded message on a tape recorder if a question bored or irked her. I found that quite funny—irresistibly imperious—but I considered it an act of degradation rather than an interesting switch of power. I love famous people but I also find them quite silly, like a Schnauzer wearing a bowtie.

  I didn’t know why, but for around two hours after our call ended, I was reeling with nervous energy. I was vocalising it and trying to get to the other side of it, the way I sing songs when I’m walking through a haunted house. I woke up the next morning with a voice message from the editor who assigned this piece. I am fond of this person and I will not name them. MBC, the team in charge of St. Vincent’s publicity (which is helmed by Barbara Charone, who also works for Madonna, and is considered one of the more powerful and intimidating publicists in the industry) had been on the phone to this editor, demanding the piece be pulled. My editor’s words: “They said she’s terrified of this interview coming out.” The publication didn’t have a leg to stand on.

"Terrified"? That word didn't seem to square. I thought I had done a not-so-good job the night before. I ended the call thinking I hadn’t asked the right questions. St. Vincent and I didn’t feel like a good match in conversation (or at least not in this conversational setup set-up, for which I was given thirty minutes, and continual reminders from the person on St. Vincent’s team, who remained on the call with us, that we’d need to wrap up well in time for St. Vincent’s Instagram Live session with Paul McCartney, which directly followed our interview.) St. Vincent tended to interpret my questions in bad faith. I assumed she believed me to be a Bad Reader; presumptuous, judgemental, simple, anti-curious—all qualities that her latest album ‘Daddy’s Home’, which I’ve interpreted as a counter to the folly, inadequacy and meretriciousness of moral purity—counters. Anyway, she read me wrong. I love Lana Del Rey.

  I got a call from MBC later that morning by a man who sounded quite nervous. I told him I was confused, I asked him what the matter seemed to be. He wasn't totally sure, he said, "she found the interview aggressive." Aggressive? I complimented her and cowed to her and laughed at her jokes. "Well, the message has been passed down a line of many messengers, she might not have actually said that." The man on the phone said that this—one of his artists demanding an interview to be pulled—had never happened to him before. It hadn't happened to me either. I felt annoyed by how easy it was for St. Vincent to kill something I had researched and expected money for. But the interview started to seem valuable to me after I was told that she didn't want it out in the world. "Can we draw a line under this and just kill the piece here?" said the man on the phone.

Below is the full transcript of my interview with St. Vincent (save for a short and-forth about Tool which didn’t make sense when turned into text). My questions are in bold, her responses are in italics.

**for the sake of this post, Madden’s questions are bold and Annie’s answers are not** Hi, how are you? Good how’s it going?

Not too bad. What’s your mood for today? My mood for today, well it’s good, I’m getting on an Instagram Live chat with Paul McCartney in a couple minutes so my mood is a little bit nervous but good.

I’m excited to talk about this album, I think it has a sick sense of humor that I appreciate a lot. I’ve had a really fun time listening to it.

Oh I’m glad, thank you.

I’m sensing there’s kind of a 70s trend at the moment in terms of fashion and the ways some other bands are presenting themselves. Is that something you were anticipating, is that something you feel you belong to, or was it just kind of accidental?

Accidental.

Do you feel bummed about that? No I don’t, I always just kind of do my own thing.

Do you think there’s a reason why people might be inspired by the 70s today? Do you see an analog with our world today and with the 70s? I guess this album is based in 1973, right?

Between ‘71 and ‘76, so post flower children idealism, post the Summer of Love hangover, but pre escapism of gay disco and pre nihilism of punk. Life was bad but music was good, kind of vibe.

Kind of when the trash aesthetic was taking hold, especially by Andy Warhol. Does trash inspire you? Um like literal rubbish?

No like the trash aesthetic, I guess in the PR you call it sleazy, grimy. Yeah but the difference with sleazy is that sleazy tries to present as glamorous but there’s something off, trash is just trash. I don’t know if trash pretends to be anything other.

  Can you have glamour without sleaze? Sure, absolutely. I mean, like the 20s Greta Garbo way, I would say Golden Era Hollywood, I mean behind the scenes it was probably a nightmare but you look at it and it is very genuinely shiny and beautiful.

I love the sitar on this album especially on ‘Down’, the riff is so sick. How did you get to the sitar? Well it’s not a sitar per se, it’s a choral electric sitar guitar and so it was I think George Harrison made them kind of popular in the ‘60s, I think the one I have is from ’67 and it plays like a guitar but it has a resonating body on it so it sounds sitar-esque. It was made very famous in the Steely Dan Do it Again solo.

  I guess the main PR bulletin point of this album is about your dad coming out of jail. Why did you want that to be the main way that people might read this album? More like an entry point, the title Daddy’s Home to me I mean one, it is literal but also it’s funny and cringy and pervy and also I think more than anything kind of refers to my own transformation into Daddy as it were. Yeah it’s probably not anything I would’ve really thrown out there except that it was made public without my consent but I didn’t really get to tell that side of the story and I don’t bring it up for sympathy. It simply is my story, it’s not intended to be indicative of necessarily anything, it’s just my story and I was gonna tell it with humor and compassion, all of that.

Did you anticipate a lack of sympathy for your dad’s crimes and the subject matter of this album and did that factor into how you shaped this record? That’s the tail wagging the dog my dear. No, no. A lack of sympathy, well, which crime would be the most sympathetic? I didn’t do anything, I’m simply writing about something that I think on some level everyone who’s ever had a parent can understand in the sense of you’re often going “How much of you am I?” and we kind of do identity projection through all these things so no, it’s again, it’s not really there for anything other than my own anecdotal story.

At what point did you transform into this daddy character? For how much of your adult life have you been the daddy? Oh I would just say over the past few years, I’ve just been quite a bit more leaned back and shoulder shrug and say let’s just sit down in the old beat up leather armchair and have a tequila and chat it out you know. Life is complicated, human beings are complicated and I wanted to just write stories about flawed people. There’s a whole lot of judgement going around and not a whole lot of understanding. And judgement is anti-curious. There are some people, perhaps the more sanctimonious and morally pure, who might not be interested in an artist’s reflection on their father’s white collar crimes. Do you have much sympathy for those kinds of people? I mean I think I can get sympathy for all people. If that is the reason why they decide not to spend 46 minutes with my work then I’m sure there’s plenty of other work out there for them that they can enjoy that is morally pure. They should find pure work from pure people and enjoy it.

I guess last year’s riots brought abolition towards the mainstream, during the time you were making this record, which is partially about your father’s time in prison. How did that square with your thoughts on prison and the US carceral system? Well I have plenty of thoughts on it, I’m not totally sure how it’s relevant to this.

Well I was wondering if you have a standpoint on it or if you’d rather just be ambiguous? I have so many thoughts and opinions, I don’t presume that my thoughts and opinions are relevant on every subject though. I don’t have that much hubris.

I understand. I was wondering about the Candy Darling inspiration, how does she come into the fold? Oh I just, Candy Darling to me is such a beautiful heroine in that she came from Queens and went not geographically far but worlds away to Manhattan and became her true self and in that particular kind of combination of glamour and toughness, where you feel like her name should be on the marquee and yet she could stick you with a shiv if you said the wrong thing. And I just find her inspiring and really beautiful, and I didn’t know but I found out a friend of mine was close with her and was at her bedside when she died so I was just picturing Candy Darling’s ascent to heaven as taking the final uptown train.

Wow. Did you feel like you were embodying her on this album or presenting as her? No not as such, but definitely taking inspiration from some of her energy for sure. I do hear a bit of her voice on the title track, I was wondering if you were kind of modeling your voice after her? On Daddy’s Home? Oh, no.

I love the sultriness of that song, even though it’s just about signing autographs in prison. I found it really funny. Yeah it’s definitely again, I’m writing about my own story with humor and compassion and self-effacement, all that.

Do you see this album as a movement, does it have a narrative? Yeah. It’s a full story, it’s a full collection of short stories. It has a shape and everything.

That’s just how I listened to this album, as a series of short stories. I was wondering how they interlink in your mind? I guess you have the person on Broadway, you have your dad, you have the person who’s maybe thinking of having a baby or not having a baby. I just could write stories of flawed people doing their best to get by because I’ve been most of the people on this album at one point of my life or another. And again I could write about them without condemnation and judgement just, here we are.

Are you a nostalgic person? No not generally.

Not even during the creation of this album? I’m thinking of the humming tracks, your mum cooking in the kitchen. Not exactly, I think that this particular kind of music with its sophistication and some of the jazz language in the harmony and its sense of time, it was a kind of music that I’d loved for so long but never really dipped into myself, and I think we kind of learn things a lot of times when we’re ready to, and I think I was kind of ready to learn some of the lessons that this kind of music had to teach me.

Do you think about shame a lot? Um, I think that shame is the reason why most people do the violence that they do. I think violence is an expression of impotence.

What was it about the post-idealist era in particular that you were drawn to, why not go through the flower power utopia sort of 60s route? I think that there’s an intellectual orthodoxy that is involved in utopian thinking and a lot of times it doesn’t allow for either a complex set of incentives or it doesn’t allow for the totality of human nature in its equation, and then it fails and because the structure of any kind of power is really complicated so I think in general the desire… and I understand that we’re living in, in some ways, I think just with the internet part of it, in some ways unprecedented times. And I understand people’s desire for certainty in times economic strife, cultural upheaval, all this stuff. I completely understand the desire for certainty. But I don’t think it’s as simple as demanding moral purity and punishing anyone who doesn’t fix the orthodox criteria. I understand the desire but I’m not sure it’s gonna get to where I think we want to be, which is just general more equality, whether it’s wealth equality, wealth disparity, all that kind of stuff I just think the matrices of power are really complicated.

You were saying earlier about Daddy and how you were thinking about your dad and the overlap between you two and how we all possibly become our parents. I was wondering how you consolidate the influences of your parents? I don’t know anything about them obviously but I know that your mum was a social worker, your dad was an entrepreneur, and those seem like two totally opposing worlds. Yes, my mother is a social worker and she instilled in all of us I think the idea that the work we do should be meaningful and she’s definitely really humanistic and that kind of thinking I think, that had an impression on me. My dad wasn’t an entrepreneur, my dad was a stock broker I think? But I grew up with my mom and my stepdad and my stepdad was a very different kind of guy, just was an army brat and grew up really poor, and was just coming from a different mindset and they’re just very different kinds of people. Not a judgement thing, just very different. Yeah my mom definitely errs on the very humble side. And yeah, my dad is a complicated, charismatic person who’s also very intelligent, and who went down a path that was full of consequence. Yeah they’re really, really different people so it’s funny to kind of square who was who.

What does your dad think of this album? Oh he loves it!

Yay, that’s good to know. Did you ever rebel against your dad’s lifestyle growing up as a teenager? I didn’t grow up with him, and he was in Tulsa Oklahoma. I don’t know what lifestyle you’re necessarily presuming but..

No I’m not presuming, just wanted a little background on your relationship with him I guess. So he wasn’t in your life that much where you were younger? I would go and we would spend summers there and Christmas, but I grew up in Dallas for the most part with my mom and my stepdad.

Was this album in any way an opportunity to get closer to your dad? Not in any way consciously, no.

  But are you finding with age and with time you’re getting closer to him? Well him being out of prison helps in terms of just proximity. Yeah, here’s what I’m finding. I’m finding that we live by the stories that we tell ourselves and that sometimes we realize that the story we’ve been telling ourselves for a long time was either wrong or lacked a certain amount of information, and then we have the choice of whether to reject the new information because it’s too painful to rethink the story that we’ve been telling ourselves, or assimilate the new information and go, wow life is complicated, this is an interesting wrinkle. I choose to do the latter.

  Yeah, it’s very easy to bullshit yourself, right? Yeah, it's true in all kind of ways you know?

This story, the story of your dad, it almost seems redemptive. I mean I would say so, and that’s not in any way what I intended and you know, a lot of times when you’re making something, I mean you’re a writer you know, you have the compulsion to make it but you’re not necessarily sure where it’s coming from or why or any of those kind of questions, but I think there is the possibility of redemption, I do, I think there is the possibility of people to change and I think there is a possibility of things like forgiveness and growth. And if I didn’t think that there was a possibility for human beings to change, to grow, to take in new information and then continue to write their story, then I don’t know what we’d really be doing, you know? And that’s not really the world I want to live in, we’re a moving picture we’re not a still photograph.

Do you want to try and change the world, do you feel like you have that power, do you feel hopeful that there can be a better future? Sorry for the cheesy language. No, I mean I don’t think that many people would accuse me of being an optimist in a lot of ways, and I don’t think in terms of my “power to change the world” I mean I think all I can do is try to study the human condition and write about the human condition in some way that resonates and then maybe people will hear that and that will resonate with them and I think that ultimately the best case scenario for music is empathy because it’s like psychologically this is why we like to listen to stories or this is why we like to watch movies is so we can go down the empathy exercise and you can see yourself as that person in the film, see someone who isn’t like you in any way, shape or form from a just box ticking kind of way, but then realize oh, we’re very similar in some ways or what would I do if I was in that situation, we do all these things and we live by these stories and I think those stories well-told can encourage empathy and empathy can go out into the world and have a kind of transformative experience. I don’t really think about, I mean I think once I make a thing and then it’s out in the world and it’s for other people to assimilate or enjoy or not, whatever, however they take it, is absolutely fine by me. But it’s for them, it’s not my place in any way to say how people should or should not enjoy it or assimilate it.

Yeah the reason I brought up prison abolition earlier is because that might be how some people contextualize this album. I would say that that’s one lens. That to me would not be the main lens.

[I’m told to wrap it up]

Yeah let’s wrap up. So Tool cover album next? No, I wish.

Someday I’m hoping. I love Tool.

I feel your Paul McCartney nerves Yeah, I’m gonna go shower.

That’s always a good idea. Okay take care, thank you again for you time Thanks, bye.

[translations-by-aiimee]

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 3

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3 - Mortuary

There were always one or two friends in your life who you're never afraid will scold you or hang up on you in the early morning hours, even if the reason is because you had a nightmare about potatoes in your home growing lots of hair. Yin Zhou was this person to Lin Yan. He had two long strands of messy hair on his head, always wore unwashed shirts, and the eyes under his glasses could never focus because of how long he had spent gaming.

They grew up in the same neighbourhood, attended the same elementary school, middle school and high school, and they were each that "brilliant other child" in the eyes of both their parents. Since childhood, Lin Yan, regardless of how hard he worked, achieved the high grades that Yin Zhou could have achieved if he didn't skip class every day. No matter how good his grades were, his parents would praise Lin Yan for his diligent and hard work. After the college entrance exam, the two drank a glass of wine as a farewell and celebrated them parting ways. Unexpectedly, Yin Zhou missed half a page of questions while writing the math papers, but he still went to the same university as Lin Yan, so almost two. So the friendship continued with the constant cycle of loving and hating each other.

Later, they were divided by their majors. Yin Zhou studied electronics and Lin Yan studied history. From then on, there was little crossover with the two majors. Without the pressure of competition, the two of them became much closer, playing games, flirting with girls, talking about politics; there was no end to their activities.

The 'regular place' referred to the bar.

When Lin Yan walked in, he saw Yin Zhou shooting his shot with a girl at the bar unsuccessfully. Lin Yan called his name several times before he turned around. Yin Zhou opened a bottle of beer and his eyes widened: " Yo, you weren't responding to any of my calls or texts. Were you on a date?"

Lin Yan drank half the bottle in single breath, and said calmly, "I've got lost and was going around in circles."

"Got lost?!" Yin Zhou stared at him for a long time. Seeing that Lin Yan wasn't joking, he couldn't help but smile and said, "Are you feeling alright? If you're feeling sick, let this brother take you to the hospital."

Lin Yan was in a weird mood because of all the strange events that had happened. Now, his voice wasn't very strong either. He simply put down the beer bottle, put his hands on the table, raised his voice and shouted into Yin Zhou's ears: "I! Saw! A! Ghost!!"

His voice was so loud that most of the people at the bar heard him. They turned to look at him like he was crazy.

Yin Zhou hid his face behind his hand and muttered about how embarrassing it was. After thinking about it, he raised his head and said with a dazed expression: "Was it a female ghost? Was it pretty?"

Lin Yan was at a loss for words and the muscles on his face twitched.

Then Lin Yan explained all the night's occurrences to Yin Zhou in extreme detail, but he started regretting it halfway through. Yin Zhou obviously was eating it up, and a pair of unfocused eyes were shining with an excitement that couldn't be matched in ten thousand years. He rubbed his hands together and stammered when he heard the section of the figure under the street light: "This is too unscientific, or maybe it's too scientific. I'll apply to use one of the labs tomorrow, maybe I can figure this out!"

Lin Yan wanted to smash the beer bottle on his head.

"You seem busy, I'll head out first."

Yin Zhou caught him before he walked away and scratched his head: "Alright, alright. I'm just kidding. Have a drink first and we can go back to my place afterwards."

"Let's be optimistic. If that thing is a guy, then you've got to get rid of him immediately. If it's a woman, then she should definitely get down on her knees to see what is under your jeans."

Lin Yan was actually very grateful to him when he drove Yin Zhou all the way to his house. He thought that unreliable people would have unreliable benefits. No matter how weird things were, he would really listen to them, but he immediately regretted it once they reached his apartment. The reason was simple: Yin Zhou's room was dirty and no living person would ever be found in this room.

The sight that Lin Yan was faced with when he stepped in the door made him scream inside. It's better to go home and be scared to death by ghosts. God only knows how he lives like this. It was a 10-square metre rental with rubbish and clothes littering the floor. There were mountains of instant noodle boxes on the table. Some of them were being used as ashtrays and there were cigarette butts floating in the murky soup. He had no idea how long they were left there, but they were exuded a rancid smell.

The laptop was thrown on the bed, and there was a line of characters moving across the screen. Yin Zhou rushed to take a look, and groaned: "It's been going on repeatedly. The program has to be changed." After he was done talking, he didn't pay any more attention to Lin Yan. He leaned against the headboard, flipping through his notebook and clicked to stop debugging, tapping on his keyboard with his long fingers.

"There is food in the cupboard. If you get hungry, grab something to eat."

Lin Yan opened the cabinet and inspected Yin Zhou’s selection. Various brands of instant noodles, rice vermicelli, pickled mustard greens, a large number of ham sausages that were about to expire. . . If this guy croaks one day, the number of preservatives in him would help him survive for at least thirty more years. If ancient people had eaten things like this, it could've saved conservation historians so much time.

"Do you have any clean clothes? Mine are soaked from the rain. Could you lend me some dry clothes first."

"There's some on the ground. Grab those."

After feeling Lin Yan's murderous glare, Yin Zhou reluctantly got up and slowly opened the wicker basket at the foot of his bed: "Yes, yes, my mother comes to wash my clothes once a week, and the clean ones are here."

After speaking, he threw him a graphic t-shirt.

"You earn so much from your projects yet you live in such a shabby place. You don't even own a washing machine, and that quality of life is catching up with you. Aren't you afraid that your arrogant old man won't give you money to marry a wife in the future? Lin Yan took off his shirt, stretched the t-shirt over his head and put it on. With the shirt over his head, he asked in a muffled voice: "Help me find a pair of pants."

Yin Zhou threw his hands up and said with disdain: "You're being so picky. A person uses so much stuff when they are alive but when they're dead, they only need a coffin. Why are you being so particular about this?" After finishing speaking, Yu Guang looked at Lin Yan with a smirk. : "Xiao Linzi's figure is good, the fitness card is not for nothing."

He glanced at Lin Yan with his peripheral vision and gave a sly smirk: "Little Brother Lin is in good shape, your gym membership wasn't bought in vain."

"Don't you dare call me Little Brother Lin, I'll show you want a real man is!" Lin Yan picked up the electric kettle that was thrown by the bed, wiped off the ashes, and smacked his lips.

Lin Yan picked up the electric kettle that was thrown near the bed, wiped off a handful of cigarette ashes, and smacked his lips.

"Disgusting."

Yin Zhou ignored him and spoke to himself as he flipped through his suitcase. "I remember I had a pair of new jeans, where are they going. . . Huh? What's this? Did my mother leave her clothes in here?"

This was. . .

The body was made of red satin, black lining, with loose sleeves that hung down, and there was heavy embroidery around the wrists. Yin Zhou shook it out curiously. Just as he was about to hold it up to compare it to his body, Lin Yan cried out: "Put that down, don't touch it!"

Looking at Lin Yan's pale face, Yin Zhou also noticed that something was wrong, so he threw the red clothes on the bed.

"These are mortuary clothes. It's for the dead." Lin Yan said weakly.

Yin Zhou's face also changed.

"This thing doesn't belong here."

Yin Zhou looked around his room, as if to relieve the nervous atmosphere, he laughed twice: "Is it wrong? How about I call my mother and ask if she left it."

Yin Zhou looked around his room. Trying to break the tense atmosphere, he laughed twice: "Was this a mistake? How about I call my mother and ask if she put it in here?"

Lin Yan looked at the clothes and said dejectedly: "No need, I believe you."

He was getting angry, thinking that this thing was trying to provoke him no matter what, and now it was involving his friend. He was clearly trying to get a reaction out of him.

For a while, both of them were speechless. The room was silent except for the ticking of the clock on the wall.

Under the light of the bright light, the red clothes were laid straight out on the bed like paper. Despite its bright colour, it was gloomy and had a terrifying appearance. The ancient style and the luxurious fabrics exuded such a cold atmosphere that it was like the sun had never touched it.

Ten minutes later.

Lin Yan picked up the car key on the table. He sighed and said to Yin Zhou: "I'm going back home. This thing is coming after me, staying here will only hurt you."

Yin Zhou spat out: "Don't give me that bullshit. It would be stupid to go back by yourself, just stay here."

What Lin Yan wanted to say was interrupted by Yin Zhou: "We're close enough that you're wearing my pants. Won't I be the one that will have to explain what happened to your parents if there's an accident? Don't mess with me. We'll talk about this in the morning."

After talking, yin Zhou searched under the bed for a while. He found another notebook and handed it to Lin Yan: "Do you think a ghost would be able to scare us to death? Hurry up, let's get some kills on Dota!"

Lin Yan was silent for a while, opened his notebook, and said with a smile: "You asked for it, I won't go easy on you!"

The light flickered and dimmed, and the room became more and more gloomy. Lin Yan knew instinctively that something was staring at him somewhere in the room. Maybe it had a pale face, wrapped in a red mortuary, and said sorrowfully: Your death is approaching.

This must be the weirdest night in his 22 years of life, Lin Yan thought. Once the sky begins to get bright, things will be over by dawn.

The red mortuary was like a long, stiff corpse lying on the bed, the sleeves folded across the front as if to remind him that this was only the beginning.

[aspiringhorrorauthor]

With A Little Help From My Friends

For @chaosintheavenue ‘s Fallout Mini-bang Event! I worked with the insanely talented and awesome @paladinthrockmorton for the event, please check their blog out! 

Game: Fallout 2

Characters: Chosen One OC, Goris, Lenny, Marcus, Sulik, Vic, New Khans, Darion

Summary: The Chosen One and his crew are headed to the Squat to try and get access to Vault 15, both on request of the NCR and to try and find the fabled Vault 13. On the way, they run into a strange, cloaked man, wandering through the desert alone.

(Read it on AO3 here if you prefer: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27857697)

Without further ado, here is ‘With A Little Help From My Friends’!

Two hundred years of sand, stubborn enough to not have shifted from its spot, flew out of the way of the car tires as the Highwayman sped past. The people of California were used to strange sights in the post-apocalypse; massive mutants, zombie-like people and reluctant heroes with a purpose, but seeing all of those crammed into an antique car, darting through the desert, was another sight altogether.

Add in that they were all wearing scavenged sunglasses, slowing down each time they passed travellers on the road to let them ogle, occasionally leaping out to shoot molerats, and the spectacle was certainly unique. Marcus was wedged in the back between Vic and Sulik, with Lenny sat up front, silently pleased of winning shotgun simply by being the only one who knew how to drive and teaching the car’s owner. The driver himself was Theo, far from his home in Arroyo, and loving the freedom of his car. Lenny was very glad there was hardly anything to run over out here, though.

They were headed to Vault 15, travelling East from NCR, with maybe only another couple of hours to go. The end of Theo’s grand quest was so near, if the stories were to be believed. As soon as he dealt with the squatters, and accessed the Vault’s computer system, he could find Vault 13, where he’d finally get the GECK to save his village. Victory was so close he could almost taste it.

A hooded figure at the side of the road caught his attention as the car shot past, too fast for the stranger to have really appreciated his beloved car. So Theo braked and reversed it to meet back up with them, rolling down his window and keeping his car going at a crawl to match the hunched stranger’s shuffling pace.

“Beautiful day today!” Theo called out cheerfully. The stranger lifted their head, but Theo couldn’t spot their face through the cloak.

“Ideal weather for a stroll,” the stranger agreed, an unusual tone to his voice that Theo couldn’t quite place. Theo scrunched up his face; sure, at this time of year the desert was somewhat cooler, but an aimless stroll in this heat was never a good idea, and who went strolling this far away from civilisation?

“What do you mean, a stroll? You’re days of walking from anywhere, mate,” Theo pointed out. The stranger seemed to shrug under his cloak.

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m heading to NCR, but I may have gotten lost on the way,” the stranger gave an odd sort of laugh. Theo bit his lip; this stranger barely looked able to walk properly, never mind fight off any threats out here.

“Uh, you know there’s rumours about deathclaws roaming around these parts, right?” Theo asked. “Big, sharp fellows, could rip a super mutant apart in a jiffy?”

“Oh yes. Perfectly agreeable fellows, always keen for a reasonable debate,” the stranger replied, his tone so solemn that it was difficult to tell if it was a joke or not. Lenny shot a look of concern at Theo; who would want to debate a deathclaw?

“M-maybe he’s been out in the sun too long?” Lenny suggested quietly, to which Theo sighed. Of course he’d run into someone needing help out here, didn’t he always? Curse his good nature.

“Hey, we’re running some errands first, but we’ll be heading to NCR after. Want a lift?” Theo asked. The stranger paused, peering into the car, where Marcus waved back.

“It seems crowded in there already. I wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

“Nonsense. Lenny, jump in the back, will ya?”

Theo stopped the car, giving Lenny time to squeeze in between Sulik and Marcus while the stranger settled into the empty front seat. His cloak sat strangely around his body, hanging too long at the arms, and the bottoms were scruffed up from dragging along the floor. The stranger took a moment to get comfortable, as if they weren’t used to sitting in seats. Well, car seats anyway. Theo held out his hand.

“Call me Theo. What do I call you?”

“My name is Goris, I’m a travelling scholar,” Goris nodded slightly, but didn’t shake Theo’s hand, “Forgive the robe, but genetics hasn’t been kind to me. I tend to scare people.”

“Well, you’re in good company here,” Theo laughed, shifting the car into gear. “Hold onto your hood Goris, this baby’s got speed.”

The car sped across the desert like a bullet, Goris desperately holding down his hood while the wind roaring through the open windows tried to blow it off. Marcus offered him a bottle of water at one point, but Goris declined it, seemingly too enraptured by the speed they were travelling at.

The drive was peaceful; they didn’t run into any further trouble on the way. Goris was keen to talk to all of them, asking about each of the towns they came from and grilling them for questions on their histories. Soon they came across the spot that Tandi had marked out for them, the squatter camp located just outside the Vault that was stopping NCR from gaining access. Theo offered to let Goris stay in the car, but the draw of possibly learning the history of the squatter camp pulled him from it.

The Squat, as Tandi had referred to the camp, was a squalid little shanty town bordered by trees, made up of tents and inhabited by nervous looking locals. The tents were weather beaten and worn, the tears spoke of years of being dragged down in a hurry, with patches sloppily sewn into place where the tears had become holes. The greyed out colour of what could possibly be the original fabric was mostly covered by the patches, the only hint it had once covered the whole tent being it’s unusual material and how often it was seen on separate tents. But mostly, the tents looked old, as if they’d been standing when the bombs, and still stood out of sheer determination. At the far side stood a more permanent building than the tents, still crumbling and falling apart. The roof was more of an old umbrella than something to keep out all weather. It was bordered by a rough forest gnarled trees, with a guard patrolling them.

The squatters, dressed in clothes only slightly younger than the tents themselves, watched them closely as they made their way to the permanent building, keeping a distance from the strangers. Theo waved at a child staring slack jawed, only for their mother to whisk them away.

“Don’t you just love a warm welcome, boss?” Vic deadpanned under his breath.

The only permanent building in the camp seemed like the best place to try and find someone who was in charge. Theo knocked on the door, and let himself in, only to narrowly dodge a rock that flew at him.

“Oh no, not dealing with you NCR lot today. Out!” a man on the other side of the door yelled at them. Theo picked up the rock and glared back.

“Hey arsehole, your rock nearly hit my head,” he called out, “Learn to aim, dipshit!”

“I told you to leave. We don’t want your kind around here,” the man insisted Theo tossed the rock back to Marcus, who crushed it between his hands while the man watched, slack jawed and terrified.

“You don’t want to make an enemy of us, old man,” Theo warned. The old man staggered backwards, “good thing we don’t want a fight you. We’ll come back later when you’re in a more agreeable mood,” Theo slammed the door behind him, taking a step back before yelling. “Arseholes! This wasteland has two types of people in it; arseholes, and people who want something from me!”

“What does that make us, boss?” Vic asked in mock offence. Theo rolled his eyes.

“Oh don’t get me started. You needed to be rescued from slavers. You,” Theo pointed at Sulik, “needed a debt paid off. You,” Theo pointed at Marcus, “Needed a murder solving and your mine fixing. You,” Theo pointed at Goris, then faltered. Technically, Goris hadn’t asked for his help at all, “Well, I’m sure you’re just here for the car ride. And Lenny,” Theo turned to point at Lenny, only to find him missing. “Wait, where’s Lenny?”

Everyone else looked around in bewilderment; none of them had noticed him leaving at all, and there were no signs of Lenny anywhere. With a resigned sigh, Theo started to wander between the tents, lifting heavy flaps and yelling Lenny’s name under each one, much to the ire of the squatters within. He eventually found Lenny quietly talking with an older lady, who looked terrified.

“Oh Lenny, did you round a corner too quickly and scare people again?” Theo asked with a mock tone of concern to his voice.

“Her d-daughter’s m-missing, possibly kidnapped.” Lenny stated. All mirth drained from Theo’s face in an instant, as his hand went to his gun. Hero time.

“Your daughter, do you have any idea where she might be?” Theo asked. The lady glanced between Lenny and Theo, biting her lip.

“There’s people in the vault, just East of here. Chrissy’s too adventurous for her own good, I was always catching her trying to sneak out there. The people don’t want us going anywhere near there, so maybe they--”

“Hang on,” Theo interrupted her, quietly stepping back towards the tent flap, dragging it away just in time to see someone rush away from the tent.

“Were they listening?” The woman asked in horror. Theo gave chase as Lenny tried to reassure her but had lost track of the person by the time Theo rounded the tent corner. Instead Theo ran up to the rest of his crew.

“Did someone just run past?”

“Someone just passed that guard over there,” Vic pointed to a guard stood by the edge of the trees, “why?”

Without answering, Theo turned and lead the way towards the forest. The guard, patrolling the outskirts, caught up with them, stopping Theo in his tracks.

“You might want to turn around stranger, there’s nothing to see here.” She said.

“What are you guarding?” Theo asked, standing up on his tip toes to try and see over the guard’s shoulder. She stood up taller to block him again.

“I’m not guarding anything, just making sure no-one wanders off this way.”

“Then why not guard the way into the desert that way?” Theo pointed to the far side of the Squat.

“Why do you care anyway?”

“A young girl has been kidnapped. D-did you see someone pass by here?” Lenny asked. The guard stopped for a minute, looking torn.

“…Yes, they did. Do you think they’re linked to it?”

“Almost definitely.”

The guard sighed, running a hand through her hair and looking back through the trees, before finally coming to a conclusion. “Look, I don’t want any trouble. They hired me to stop anyone passing through after they had troubles with the girl snooping, I’m not with the people that took her, honest. You can go through. Just, don’t tell them I let you in, and save Chrissy, okay?”

Theo gave her a wink and took the lead through the copse of trees, more dense than any forest in a desert had a right to be. But the branches looked gnarled and dead, as if whatever had let them grow in the first place had run its magic and left them to suffer alone. At some point, this place must have been verdant, but now it was as worn down and withered as the Squat itself, a fitting nest for the camp. Theo ran a hand down the bark out of curiosity, pulling away large chunks effortlessly.

The trees thinned out again, marking the edge of the small forest, and bringing into view a shack  that stood in a clearing near a wall of rocks that boasted a poorly hidden metal door. Another guard, this time wearing armour unlike any Theo had ever seen, leant against the shack wall, smoking a cigarette. He stared at the crowd, removed the cigarette and rubbed it out against the wall behind him as Theo marched closer, laser pistol in hand.

“The fuck do you want?” The man snarled.

“We’re looking for a missing girl, do you know anything about that?” Theo asked. The man eyed up Theo with a look of disdain.

“Maybe we do? What are you gonna do about it?” He taunted.

“You’re looking at a crew with a supermutant and asking what we’ll do about it? I’ll give you three fucking guesses. Where’s Chrissy?” Theo demanded, gripping his laser pistol tighter.

“As if I’d give her over that easily to a little punk like you. Nah, we can have some fun with her yet.” The guard teased.

“Up yours and eat a bullet breakfast, arsehole.” Theo snapped, getting a lucky quick shot that hit the man straight in his eye. His body slumped against the wall as footsteps from inside the house rushed towards the door, unlocking it.

“What’s--” The woman that appeared didn’t even get a chance to finish her sentence as Marcus aimed his minigun at her, tearing her apart in a flurry of guts. Once the gun stopped spinning, Theo rushed over to the body, searching for the keys and pulling them out with triumph. Meanwhile, Vic and Sulik rushed into the house, weapons at the ready, checking each room was empty.

“There’s a locked door at the back!” Vic called out. Theo rushed to meet up with him, quickly unlocking the door, only for it to fly open in his face as a teenage girl rushed out, kicking Vic in the groin and making for the front door, to find it inadvertently blocked by Marcus and Goris.

“Chrissy, I presume?” Theo called after her, holding his bleeding nose. “Your mom sent us.”

///////////////////

“The mayor’s quite nice when he’s not throwing rocks at me, isn’t he?” Theo snickered, spinning the key card in his fingers as they headed back to the shack. Chrissy’s mother had been overjoyed that she’d been returned safely and convinced the man in charge to let Theo’s crew deal with the raiders in the vault on their behalf. The ones that had taken Chrissy were just the surface crew, and had been paying the squatters in ill-gotten gains to keep the NCR away, but if he could get rid of the raiders, who called themselves ‘New Khans’, then maybe they’d deal with the NCR again. Well, at least he was getting into the vault now. Even if it was to help someone else again, “why is the name ‘New Khans’ so familiar anyway?”

It was mostly a rhetorical question, but the rest of his group looked baffled by it. Clearly it wasn’t for them.

“I think I’ve heard locals speak of some old rivalry between a raider gang and the NCR, maybe this is the raider gang?” Goris suggested.

“Maybe.” Theo agreed quietly. Maybe another of his grandfather’s adventures involved the Khans, and he was just keeping up with family tradition. “Hey, Goris, you don’t need to come with us, you know. We’re going to wipe out a raider camp, it’ll likely get a little hairy and I can’t promise we can cover for you.”

“Oh, you needn’t worry about that. I can handle myself.” Goris assured him. Theo couldn’t keep the doubt from his face.

“They’ll be armed, and deadly. We can come get you after we clear it if you’re desperate to look around the vault, you know.” Theo tried again.

“Thank you, but I am more than capable of keeping myself safe. I do usually wander the wastes alone. I would like to return your kindness from earlier.” Goris insisted.

“Well, alright. It’s your funeral.” Theo shrugged and swiped the keycard in a slot in the door, stepping back and watching the rusted old door slowly open with an ear piercing creak. Beyond it lay a cave lit by primitive torches. With a small wave to tell them to keep quiet, Theo led the way in, running a hand against the wall to keep on track if the torches went out. The rocks were dark dry, but sturdy, Theo couldn’t pull out any stones with his bare fingers; a sensible choice to build a vault in, he supposed. The deeper they went, the darker it got; the rocks seeming to absorb light, until, more often than not, Theo couldn’t even see his own hand brushing against the walls through the blackness. Very easy for the raiders to hide in.

“Who the fuck are you?” Came a sudden bark from further in the cave, causing Theo to jump, hand reaching for his laser pistol. Damnit, he could barely even see down here, never mind shoot. He needed a different plan.

“Uh, new recruit?” He hazarded.

“Oh, right, yeah. Go on in.” The Khan replied. Barely believing his luck, Theo stepped forward, still holding his pistol ready, but the Khan didn’t react, just waved him and his oddly shaped entourage along. “You’ll want to see Darion, he’s on the bottom level.”

“Darion, got it.” Theo nodded. Past a turn, the cave opened up somewhat, with more torches giving him a better view of it. He recognised the vault door, almost identical in design to the one on Vault 8, except this one lay discarded on the floor, far past repair. Some more Khans stood around in the cave, chatting, paying him little attention. They made their way through the empty doorway and through the halls of the vault. It stank of rust, and the lights didn’t seem to work, the same torches from within the cave illuminating the metal hallways with only marginally more success. This vault had long been abandoned; it didn’t have the crisp, clean, almost sterile look to it like Vault 8 had; this was beyond disrepair, it was a health hazard; a tetanus epidemic just waiting to happen. They tried to avoid touching the walls as much as possible as they headed to the old elevator, barely squeezing everyone in.

“We suspect a trap.” Sulik warned.

“Definitely. Hands on guns, everyone, and expect a fight. Got enough ammo, Goris?”

“Don’t worry, I always travel fully armed.” Goris assured him, adjusting his robes but not pulling out a gun.

The lift itself was slow, rickety. It shook and creaked down the levels, and once it stopped the doors crept open. Marcus exited, minigun first, checking the surrounding corridors before signalling everyone else to follow him. It was eerily quiet down here, except for the muffled dull thud of a leak and the gentle crackle of the torches along the walls. Theo headed towards the Overseer’s room, past many closed doors that his companions checked behind him. The door was shut, and when the button was pressed, it opened much faster than it should in a place this ruined.

Beyond the door was pitch black; no torches, no lights, and no sound, as if someone had scared away anything that could make noise. As if the room was holding its breath.

Theo took a step back, ready to leave before the trap was sprung, but his companions hadn’t seen it, and continued walking, knocking him further into the room. The creaky hiss of pistons behind him told him that the door had shut them in, and the torches lit up around the room, highlighting jeering faces and glinting off of weapons. Too many Khans to count surrounded them, each armed to the teeth and ready to shoot. They were surrounded, and outnumbered, and hopelessly outgunned. One khan, an old man, stepped forward, hatred written across his face, sizing Theo up. “You look just like him, that damned Vault Dweller.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot.” Theo shrugged, trying to look for a way out. But the only way other than the locked door was further into the vault, and they didn’t have emergency exits. Damn. “Are you Darion? Wouldn’t want to waste my ammo.”

“The one and only. I have waited eighty years for my revenge against the NCR. Getting to kill a man that looks like their attack dog is the icing on top.”

“Would a distraction help?” Goris asked quietly. Theo had absolutely no idea what the shuffling scholar had in mind, but anything would be better than nothing right now, so he nodded, not straying from Darion’s gaze.

“You couldn’t kill my grandad back then, and I won’t be killed now. Guess you’ll just have to wait a little longer.” Theo bragged. Darion opened his mouth to speak, but his eyes widened and his jaw dropped instead, as he and his two bodyguards stumbled backwards in shock, a scream tearing from their throats. Theo turned to look where they were staring.

Only to see a deathclaw stood next to him.

Theo stumbled back as the deathclaw threw itself towards the nearest Khan, giving an almighty roar that rattled Theo’s skull. It swept its claws across their helmet, sending it scattering across the floor, the second hand following shortly after, leaving deep gashes down the raider’s face that flooded with blood.

The Khans had stopped screaming and were aiming their guns now, some at the deathclaw, some at Theo and his friends. Theo pulled out his own laser pistol and aimed for Darion’s eyes.

Darion collected himself, and in turn faced Theo, narrowly dodging the laser shot and returning with a flash of fire from his flamethrower. Theo jumped back just in time, the searing heat flashing against his face, and firing another laser at Darion, hitting his shoulder.

A burst of bullets behind Darion hit the man with a yell as one of his guards, in blind panic over the approaching deathclaw, accidentally fired at Darion instead.

“Watch where you’re shooting!” Darion yelled back, giving Theo the window to fire again, getting Darion square in the side of his face, knocking him down to the floor.

The deathclaw had thrown the guard to the wall and leapt instead at Darion, landing on the man’s shoulders before swiping his head clean off in one fell swoop.

Theo backpedalled as quick as his legs could take him, but the deathclaw didn’t even look at him, just threw itself horns first at another khan.

Theo hit a second khan in the crotch, felling the man just in time for the deathclaw to catch him across the neck, before turning to where Lenny stood. Theo went to shout out a warning to Lenny, but the deathclaw had already sprung.

And completely missed Lenny, instead taking down a khan stood behind him that was aiming a shot.

Sulik took down one of the raiders guarding the door, the heavy thud of his supersledge against the raider’s skull making Theo wince as Sulik yelled for the rest of them to retreat.

Vic and Lenny did so quickly; Marcus and Theo backed off while aiming at the remaining Khans, who’d all but ignored them in favour of trying to take down the deathclaw, with little hope. It was too fast, too strong.

By the time Theo reached the door, no Khans were left standing. Just the deathclaw in the centre of the room, breathing heavily and covered in blood. Marcus raised his minigun, getting it ready to fire, while Theo did a quick head count.

Vic, Sulik, Lenny, Marcus… where was Goris? Had he been injured? Theo quickly glanced around the room, but the only sign of him was his robe, discarded on the floor where Goris had last stood. Beside Theo. Where the deathclaw had--

Theo shoved Marcus’ arm just in time to redirect the bullets away from the deathclaw, who had now turned to face them. Lenny and Vic had their guns trained on it, while Marcus shot Theo a dirty look, having just wasted an entire magazine on the wall.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t point your guns at me, thank you.” The deathclaw said casually. The shock very nearly caused Vic and Lenny to drop their guns entirely.

“What evil spirit is this that talks to us?” Sulik demanded in horror.

“It’s fine guys, lower your guns.” Theo tried to assure them, barely keeping the quiver from his voice. He stepped forward cautiously, picking up Goris’ robe. “So, uh, why didn’t you tell us you were a deathclaw?”

A gasp behind him told him someone else had figured it out too. “To be fair, you didn’t ask.” Goris pointed out. Theo had never been this close to a deathclaw, nor had he ever wanted to be. Those thick, grey scales almost seemed to glow in the torchlight, giving an ethereal look to Goris, so different to the sandy coloured scales he’d seen on the deathclaws they’d raced away from in the car. And those legendary claws, thick as a radius bone and sharper than a sword, and blood red after the fight; most waste landers thought it was a good life if they’d never seen one at all, nevermind gotten up close and personal with them. Goris didn’t move, just watched Theo with dark red eyes that didn’t blink anywhere near as often as a human’s did. Theo stepped closer still, every instinct screaming to run, not getting close enough to be in Goris’ reach, and held out the robe for Goris to take, glad it covered his wobbling legs. He didn’t have reason to be afraid, did he? This was still Goris, the desert weirdo who thought debating with deathclaws was-- oh wait.

Goris slowly took the robe back from Theo, giving a quick thanks and quickly putting it back on and deftly retying the cord around the waist. Once the hood was up, he looked the same as before, but Theo could spot all the little details that would give him away, now that he knew what to look for. The hood sitting too far forward from his horns, the overlong sleeves hiding his claws, the way it trailed to cover every inch of him.

“Clever disguise.” Theo complimented, feeling a bit more comfortable now that Goris had hidden himself. “Wish I could do that. Where’d you learn to talk and not kill humans on sight, then?”

“Um, the lift is rattling.” Lenny pointed out, bringing Theo back to the vault again. Right, the other Khans would’ve heard the commotion, and were no doubt on their way to find out what had happened. He pushed his way through the doorway, reaching the corner leading to the corridor for the lift and peering around it. No doubt about it, the lift was in motion.

“What’s the plan then?” Theo asked.

“Going in guns blazing isn’t good enough for you this time?” Marcus smirked.

“No, ‘cause we’ve always got the element of surprise on our side now.” Theo grinned back at Goris. He was still keeping his distance, and everyone else keeping their distance from him in turn, still unsettled by the deathclaw in the room.

“There’s a room just inside this corridor, if I hide in there I can jump out behind them too.” Goris suggested.

“Right. We’ll take cover here.” Theo agreed.

“I think I’ll go with Goris. I don’t do ‘hide and shoot’.” Marcus raised his gun for emphasis.

Goris and Marcus hid in the room, Goris’ tail flicking out with every step now he wasn’t shuffling everywhere, while Theo and Lenny hid behind the far wall, Vic and Sulik by the near. The lift stopped with a ‘ding’, the doors slowly creeped open, and footsteps cautiously marched out.

Theo nodded to Vic, pointing their pistols around the corner, hitting the front two raiders blindly. They gasped out, firing back while everyone pushed themselves against the wall, holding their breaths for what they knew was about to come.

Sure enough, with a loud thud against the metal floors and an almighty roar, Goris jumped into the battle, and they leapt out from hiding. The Khans were too busy screaming at the deathclaw behind them to see their attackers in front of them, and they fell quickly to a hail of bullets, lasers, hammers and claws.

But the lift continued to rattle regardless.

“More Khans?” Marcus asked.

“Ready for round two, everyone?” Theo asked with a smile. Oh, he could get used to this.

[slasherkisss]

Best Friends Are For [Carrie White/Reader]

[A commission for @space-and-sea​, featuring a platonic relationship between Carrie White and the reader! This was such a fun, cathartic one to write for me since I relate so much to Carrie ;w; If you’re interested in a commission please DM me!]

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To say that Carrie White had a hard life was a little bit of an understatement, that was certain.

Carrie would have preferred the concept that her life was a little bit of a Hell, had her momma not beaten her for even considering such foul language in her home. Life wasn’t Hell, she would scold her through the door of her closet as she clawed at the wood of the overly-confining space, and she should pray that it never would be! She should repent those words so that God might not take her up on that statement and truly send her to hell in order to make her regret every sinning in such a manner. So, Carrie often did not refer to her life as Hell. Rather she decided it was… hard. As little justice as that word did for her emotions at any given moment, it was enough to satiate the general pain of loneliness and annoyance that bubbled up under the base of her skin like salt on a slug. It was a sort of sting that she had grown used to though.

How sad was it, she couldn’t help but think, that she had grown used to it?

She thought on her life for only a few moments before the echo of her teacher’s word finally reached her ears. They once sounded drowned out, hidden behind a wall of water like she was inside of a fish tank, distorted and cold against the sun that shimmered through the classroom from the windows. Now she could hear it more clear, though, and behind the long locks of mousy hair, Carrie could only feel a sense of dread at the words that were spoken forward with mock sincerity towards the group of students before her.

“Alright class! For this next project, I’ll be assigning you to work in pairs! So please choose your partner quick as you can and then we’ll go over the details of the assignment.”

That was all it took. That was the whirlwind starting noise that pushed all of the bustling bodies forward. Carrie winced and cringed in her seat at the force of the students around her as they scrambled to find their friends, fingertips linked with laughs as girls located their best friend. Huffing tones of jocks arguing over the nerd of the class as they tried to be his partner for an easy A. The nerd looking semi-irritated but mostly uncomfortable as he was pushed around like a rag doll between basketball and football players the entire length of the choosing process, only to be bid like a horse to the captain of the lacrosse team who offered ten bucks and not to let him get beat up every day after lunch. She simply observed each movement with curious eyes, never making her own move to get up. To find someone new or old to pair up with.

Why would she? She knew what they thought of her. Sitting and staying quiet was bette than risking the humiliation of their laughs and ‘hell nos’ in front of other classmates.

Well, that was what she thought anyways.

Carrie blinked in surprise at the form that obfuscated her desk from the front and looked upwards at the face of the body. E/C eyes watched her with curiosity, a tilt of their head brushing hair along the back of their neck as they smiled politely, the curve of their mouth neat against their face. Carrie blushed at their closeness, her back hitting the very edge of her chair as she leaned away in surprise, eyes wide with shock.

You had seen her sitting alone, as she always seemed to do for most of her classes, and your heart was curious. Though a new student, having just transferred from a city miles away with no real important name, you weren’t unaware of the bias that seemed to surround the poor girl. The way people laughed and teased at her with mocking eyes and annoyed furrows of brows made your heart fill with rage as they all but bullied her into some form of quiet submission. That wouldn’t do, you decided as the group project was announced and you spent your time watching her carefully as students ran around and over her as though she were invisible, and you wanted to see if you could change that.

Not out of pity, of course, who wanted a friendship built out of pity? No, yours was curiosity. Yours was genuine interest.

Yours was determination.

“Hi,” You greeted with your best smile as you moved back slightly, aware of her shift in discomfort as she watched you with doe-like eyes, “I’m Y/N. New student here… You’re… ?”

“Oh… Carrie White.” She managed out, her voice so soft you had to strain your ears against the loud mocking noises of the students around the two of you. Still, she offered you her name. That was progress if you had ever seen it, you decided, and your smile grew more genuine as you reached out your hand with polite intent.

“Well,  Carrie White,” You hummed in general greeting, “I need a partner for this assignment. You want to be mine?”

The phrase came out a little strange, more like a confession than an actual request for a simple school project partnership. It wasn’t lost on Carrie as her face, pale behind that long hair of hers, turned red at her cheeks as she watched your fingertips with baffled confusion. You wanted to be her partner? Willingly? She wondered if the teacher had put you up to this for a moment. She could imagine him giving a pleading look and begging you gently in the back of his lips with a whisper to just take pity on her and pair up with her, so that she wouldn’t feel bad about having to work alone or be pushed out of a group, even if it was just two people. It was enough to bring a sense of annoyance to her stomach. Of anger as she let her brows furrow at your hand before looking back up at your face.

Her gaze softened when she saw your genuine smile hold itself with patience against your lips as you waited for her answer, never pressuring her to give it right away as you stood there with that same soft look on your face.

Were you really being serious?

Taking a breath, Carrie reached out and took your hand in hers with a weak willed shake of it. And, for a brief moment, she dared to smile.

“Um, yes, I’d like that a lot.”

That was all the two of you needed to seal your friendship, the pact made in the work of a class rather than blood or tears like any other pact might be made.

Carrie was a sweet girl, her interests limited but bright as she talked about them with you between studious notes written in the sides of books as the two of you researched for your projects. The discussions in the libraries often led to fits of giggles that would make the librarian snap at the two of you with a fierce ‘shush’, which in turn only made you stifle more giggles together as you tried (and usually failed) to focus back on work. It was the most well you had ever worked with someone, you realized in awe as the assignment both of you handed in garnered a beautiful ‘A’ circled on the researched front page.

Both you and Carrie could only look at one another with a mixture of awe and pride as you gazed up at your teacher, whose smile only indicated that he was pleased at how well the both of you had got on together during your work. The pride in your heart matched with the pride you had over your new friend. Over the effort she had put into the research and into knowing you so that the both of you would operate with perfect unison alongside one another. So neither of you would be left in the dust because, well, that simply wasn’t what friends did to one another. As you gazed at Carrie, who stared all but adoringly back at you, you couldn’t help but continue the smile that warmed your lips.

“We make a great team.”

A team you did make with her. One that lasted the entirety of the school year as the both of you spent time alongside one another. Her bullies were pushed away as you slid to her side, taking whatever crap they gave you and flinging it back at their own faces when they threatened to sneer at her. When one snarked at you, you would simply return the comment with a haughty tone and a biting look that threatened, no, DARED them to try something with you. The one who really did try in the middle of the year regretted it and, though you were sent to a week of detention after class, the slight bruise to your cheek and the bloody nose you got for defending Carrie was all but worth it despite her constant protests.

“You don’t have to stick up for me like that,” Carrie would whimper as she touched your sore face, “I can’t stand to see you hurt… Because of me, Y/N.”

To it, of course, you only smiled at her and pulled her into a hug.

“And miss a chance to tell those assholes what for? Trust me, I enjoy it.” So when you saw her running out of the lockers one day, her body shaking and refusing to look you in the eyes as she was escorted by one of the teachers amongst a chaos of laughter and yells, you knew something horrible had likely happened. Heads popped out after her to watch her form scurry away, their smiles fading only when they noticed you before them. Your fists were clenched and your teeth pulled themselves together in a grimace of anger, a look so terrifying that, if they could kill, the girls before you would be dead ten times over.

You felt rage bubble up in your stomach as you hissed the words of anger through your bared teeth:

“What did you DO TO HER?”

No one answered. Of course they didn’t. Taking a breath, you turned on your heels and sprinted down the hallway, ignoring warning calls about running in the halls in favor of finding Carrie. That was all that mattered now, not those sneering cheerleaders who would rather make fun of your best friend and do their makeup then dare to listen to reason. You felt your breath fall in shaky, nervous gasps as you caught up with your PE teacher and your best friend, your hands flinging themselves forward to touch Carrie, who flinched for a moment at your advance.

“Y/N,” Miss Collins voice was sharp but understanding as she knew it was you, “It’s not the time. You’ll be able to see her soon, just please go back to class.”

“But I-!” You tried to protest but were shooed away, forcing yourself to a stop as the two disappeared down the hall.

You heard whispers behind you. Sharp murmurs that echoed with burning heat in the back of your ears, causing you to turn your head around so fast that you almost gave yourself whiplash. Your brows narrowed, sharp and full of succinct anger at the students who talked around you with so little regard to the situation that it was downright disgusting. Your gaze must have reflected your opinion. One by one the group was stunned into silence as they met your heated glare, slowly dissipating and averting their eyes so that they didn’t have to stare into the fierce flame you had acquired. Clenching and unclenching your hands as tight as you could, you tried to find your breaths to make them more even. In and out, you tried to repeat, in and out.

Carrie would need you to be calm, after all. You had to do it for her.

Sure enough she was released from the principal's office a little over half an hour later. Your discovery of her location had led you to wait patiently outside of the door with growing anxiety biting at the tips of your toes as they tapped relentlessly against the linoleum of the school hallway. Your fingers fiddled with one another, nails punching into skin and teeth sinking into lips as you tried not to count every second that passed that you were without your best friend. Yet they still echoed in your mind like clockwork, a tick of each one making your foot beat faster on the floor as you pushed the thoughts away. One two… Three four five… Six, seven! Eight nine and-

“Y… Y/N?”

Carrie’s voice snapped you out of your reverie as your head shot upwards, staring at the girl to your side who watched you with those beautifully wide, doe-like eyes she always seemed to have on her. Her fingertips clung to the books covering the front of her body like it was a life line, desperate to hide herself from the world. To hide herself from even you. The thought made your hurt burn, but you understood the reasoning behind it. After all, the experience had been traumatic.

Your pain must have registered on your face because Carrie averted her eyes, biting her lip as she tried to push her hair further in front of her face. To hide from your gaze as you finally pulled yourself from it, reaching out and touching her shoulder with light fingers, more asking permission than initiating a touch fully. You felt her flinch, but she didn’t pull away or give another indication that it was refused. You let your hand hold her steady then, bringing yourself closer to her as you bit your lip with worry.

“How are you doing?” You couldn’t help but ask with worry lacing your tone, “What did they say in there?”

She didn’t answer for a long time, but you waited patiently for her to find the words. You knew that, sometimes, words came hard to her through her mind of frustrated phrases and bible verses her mother pushed upon her. When she did, at last, there was a slight twist to her smile that you recognized as her slightly sarcastic, annoyed look. The gaze that was saved only for you and her when she was sure no one was looking. When she was sure she could get away with such a face as she muttered low into your ear.

“He kept calling me Cassie.”

To this you couldn’t help but snort, covering your mouth as a small fit of giggles left you. Carrie smiled, your laughter infectious as you rolled your eyes and let your hand find her free one instead, taking it and lacing your fingers together with a sigh and another quick snort.

“Cassie! What a fucking joke of an ass,” You couldn’t help but cackle as you gazed at her softly, “Hey, did they still say you have to go to class?”

She shook her head.

“I can go home early…”

“Cool… Do you want to spend some time at the park before you head home?”

“O-Oh,” Carrie’s eyes widened in surprise, “But your classes-.”

You shrugged in response with a light chuff, “One day of hooky won’t kill me. Besides, you’re more important to me than some book or teacher’s lecture. I’d skip a thousand classes for you!”

“I wouldn’t want that!” Carrie laughed, squeezing your hand in hers and accepting your offer, the both of you sliding out of the door to the school fully and into the sunlight of the mid afternoon in Maine.

The walk to the nearby park was quiet, your only comments on the weather as the two of you enjoyed the fresh air. At your side, Carrie clung to you with the desperation of a lost child, hiding her form behind your own as she watched others pass by. As her eyes followed them with worry to their intentions before relaxing as they walked away. She hadn’t skipped school like this before, nor did she ever not go home straight to her Momma. The entirety of the experience was new and moderately terrifying, yet your hand in her own made her all the more confident as the two of you found a shady bench beneath a massive acorn tree, sliding into it with a sigh as your aching knees enjoyed a momentary reprieve.

Carrie sat at your side, her books placed gingerly on the bench next to her as the two of you watched the ongoings of the park with quiet interest. Old couples walking dogs and chatting with one another filled your peripheral. Families of children who were not yet old enough to go to school decorated themselves amongst picnic tables and frisbee games, screaming and shrieking their enjoyment as the weather warmed their skins and hearts.

Your gaze turned to Carrie again, a frown painted on your lips for a moment as you watched her space out. Her gaze focused languidly on the floor before her, her fingertips fiddling with one another as she seemed to try and remember how to breathe. Taking a breath yourself, you reached out and cupped her hands with your own, giving your friend a gentle squeeze to startle her momentarily out of her reverie. You mustered up the best serious look you could manage before her as she gazed at you with curiosity against her otherwise exhausted looking appearance.

“Whatever those fuckers did,” You began with a sharp annoyance to your tone as you referred to her classmates, “Was stupid and cruel. No matter what they said or what anyone tells you, Care-Bear, you didn’t fucking deserve any of it. If I was allowed to I’d give every last one of them a piece of my mind-! The shit they pulled… You don’t deserve it and don’t EVER think that you do, okay? I promise that if they ever try shit again-” You gave a lopsided smile at her, “-I’ll be there to chase them out of the room myself, okay? So… Please, don’t let it get you down so bad, alright? You got me in the end, I promise.”

Your words hit something within Carrie that seemed to break her. Her gaze held yours, searching hard through it for any sign that you might be lying… Any reasoning as to why, just why, you would say all of those kind things to her. Why you would spend so much time with her and why, oh God why, you would even consider being this close to her after all that had happened. Her stomach churned with something between delight, care, and excitement as she watched your genuine expression with shock. You meant every word you said, she had realized with awe to the slight slack of her jaw, and you wouldn’t take it back. When you said something, she had learned, you meant it. Each word spoken from your lips in the months she had known you had meaning. Had purpose behind each syllable and that alone was enough to amaze her.

Amaze her that you were you… That you were her friend.

All at once tears fell from Carrie’s eyes as she leaned forward, engulfing you in the most delicate of hugs that had you gasping as the wet of her tears lit up your shoulder. You suppress a smile of amusement as you hugged her back, sighing as you were encompassed in the warmth and scent of your best friend. She seemed to cling to you more as you accepted her movement. The two of you must have been quite a sight, you mused, with her sobbing into your shoulder and you clinging to her as though she might turn to mist and disappear.

It felt warm, though. It felt right.

“I-I appreciate you, Y/N,” Carrie whimpered into your ear as she pulled away, wiping her face as it grew splotchy and red with her tears, “I… I never thought i’d have such a good friend in my life. I really am blessed to have you in it and I-I… I don’t ever want to have another one. Just you.”

You laughed, leaning closer to her and sighing as you touched your shoulders together with a smile.

“More friends are okay, Carrie, we’ll just have to find people who can hang with us both! I… appreciate you too, though, yeah? You’re amazing and beautiful and creative and… Well, I think we make a pretty good team, don’t you?”

You used the same words you had done when you first met. When you first completed something together and shared that same feeling of accomplishment with one another. This seemed to mimic that same feeling for the both of you, the touch of your shoulders and glint in your eyes nostalgic as she smiled at you, her tears steadying into nothing as she gave only a swift nod of confirmation and squeezed your hand tight to hers. Tilting your head for a moment, another idea seemed to instinctively come into your mind, your heart beating as you smiled and sat up straighter than you usually did, the eagerness of your question causing it to nearly stumble off of your tongue as you bounced in your seat.

“Say, Carrie,” You whispered in excitement, “How about we go to the Prom? Togther?”

It seemed to take her a minute to process just what you had said to her, the words in one ear and out the other, only to boomerang perfectly back into her as she startled, her face red with blush now as she stuttered something you couldn’t quite catch and brushed her hair behind her ear as she bit her lip. Realizing your words may have been misconstrued, you found yourself back tracking as you held both of your hands up with wide eyes of your own, a nervous laugh bubbling in your throat as you stuttered out your explanation with extreme honesty:

“N-No-wait- fuck shit- I didn’t mean-! As friends, right? I mean, if you find a date for yourself and want to go with him then, for sure, you should go with him! Whoever goes with you is a lucky guy, after all but… If you just wanted to go with no pressure or anything, sometimes going with friends can be just as fun! We could both wear really nice outfits, I’ll help you pick out your makeup if you want to try and wear some! Oh and we could do it together before we come in and when we’re here we can drink punch and dance and-!”

“I’d love to!”

She blurted her answer out as fast as possible in the middle of your words, making you both stumble over them and erupt into a fit of friendly giggles as she reclaimed her status in the situation with a nod.

“I’d love to go with you, Y/N… I think that sounds like the most fun thing ever, a-actually! Yeah, let’s do it! Let’s go to the prom together!”

You cheered, all but tackling her into a hug as the two of you giggled with excitement, drawing gazes curiously over to you as older folks hummed in amusement, murmuring something about ‘the good ol days’ as they continued to walk their dogs. You couldn’t care, though. You didn’t want to. All you wanted to focus on was the fact that you had made Carrie White, your best friend in the entire world, the happiest girl on earth in that very moment.

“That’s the spirit! Carrie and Y/N, on an adventure in high school! It’ll be AWESOME.”

You laughed as she clung to you, smiling through her beautiful hair and giving a confirming nod, biting her lip before she spoke out, eager in her tone:

“I can’t wait!”

Carrie White supposed that, yes, her life was truly hard. The hardest it had ever been at her age… but… She had you now, didn’t she? Perfect, loud, amazing you at her side for as long as she stayed your friend.

That alone? It was enough to make her life ten times brighter than if it existed without you. And that enough was to make her the most grateful person on earth.

[rebelscum-2187]

So after nearly 22 years of life on this planet, I’ve come to the conclusion that I am high functioning autistic. I believe I fell through the cracks of an early diagnosis for the following reasons:

1.) I am Female (I learned how to mask myself very early on)

2.) I have a gifted IQ (above 130) and was classified as such in 4th grade so no one considered that I could be both ASD and intellectually gifted.

I am in the beginning stages of unmasking and am currently seeking an official diagnosis. Right now, I’m trying to write down everything I know about my neurodivergent experience so here’s a list of things I’ve experienced and believe to be relevant. If you can relate or you understand please comment and share! I’m new to this community and it feels so good to finally meet people who understand and can relate. Ok, Here we go.

“So the general population doesn’t memorize scripts to movies or watch the same one every day for a year?”

“People think it’s weird that I prefer to have subtitles on when I watch stuff, even though I don’t have damaged hearing”

“I watch movies with subtitles because I won’t understand what’s said if I don’t read it. I have no hearing issues.”

“I cannot hear/understand someone if I have one ear bud in and one out. Too much sensory input at once.”

“I thought I had a hearing deficit because I literally could not understand people at church or parties or other places with a lot of background noise, and I was so confused when they told me my hearing was normal.”

“I love star wars. Not just love but I could tell you what planet each character is from and what kind of ship they use, what model droid that one is and I will gladly talk about it all day if you let me. Everyone now gets me Star Wars stuff for my birthday and holidays”

“Eye contact is so uncomfortable for me that sometimes it ‘burns’ to maintain it, but then I overcompensate and stare too intensely. Over the years, being female, I’ve forced myself to make eye contact for a certain number of seconds and then look away a certain number of seconds but I’m concentrating so hard on that, that I don’t remember anything that was said to me.”

“Giving me verbal directions is a special kind of hell. I need it written down.”

“I can memorize pictures of things and exactly where every kid sat in my 10th grade US history class as well as my 9th grade geometry class.”

“I never fit in anywhere, in my childhood, most of my adolescence, except the swim team and my new church.”

“Team sports are the worst. I can’t communicate fast enough, I’m bad with hand eye coordination and keeping track of a ball. I excelled in individual sports and fell in love with swimming.”

“I often found it much easier to make friends with older kids because I could have intelligent conversations with them and their good social skills could make up for my lack of social skills.”

“But, I had a few friends that were considerably younger who I could still play imaginatively with dolls when I was 13 and one particular friend was 9. I had a lot of trouble getting a long with her sister who was the same age as me.”

“It physically pains me to hear someone mispronounce a word, spell something wrong, or make a grammatical mistake. I corrected my cousin A LOT when we were kids, she frequently got mad and I couldn’t understand why. My grandma would tell me to stop because correcting people is rude.”

“One of my special interests as a kid was dolphins. I was 5-6 years old and I remember being so excited when my mom let me check out like 10 books from the library and I read them quickly and multiple times.”

“I corrected a teacher one time about dolphins. She said dolphins weren’t whales and I knew FOR A FACT that ‘dolphins were a type of small whale’ because I read it in one of my books. She laughed at me and so did the rest of the class and I felt stupid even though I was right. This led to me suppressing my knowledge and real self and ultimately more masking.”

“As per that last one, my memory is impeccable.”

“I had another special interest in dogs when I got a bit older. My mom bought me a book with every kind of breed of dog, where they came from, their temperament, their size, everything. I can still, to this day, tell you the breed of dog just by looking at it.”

“I always wanted a best friend but never had one. I had groups of friends but never someone who would call me their best friend. When I got a boyfriend in high school, I was so excited because he called me his best friend and he was mine and I finally had that feeling reciprocated. He also had a gifted IQ and dyslexia, ADHD and a few other things so we understood each other quite well.”

“I can’t tell if someone is flirting with me because I can’t read between the lines. I also don’t know how to flirt because if I like a guy too much I get soooo nervous and I stumble over my words and it’s a disaster.”

“When I liked this guy (last year, 2019) I would freeze up so bad when I talked to him that I rehearsed every conversation I wanted to have with him so I wouldn’t mess it up. I would write topics in the notes section of my phone before hanging out with him so I’d remember what to ask him. It made for very awkward and forced conversations and probably drove him away.”

“Sarcasm and jokes almost always go over my head. The boyfriend I had in high school was very funny and outgoing but used a lot of sarcasm and it always caused disagreements because I took him seriously when he was being sarcastic.”

“I talk slowly and very monotone.”

“I have no difficulty reading in my head and can read/comprehend it well, but reading aloud is difficult and I often stumble over words and mess up.”

“I need directions repeated multiple times before I understand.”

“I went to the beach to hang out with some church friends yesterday. They all play spike ball and are so confused as to why I sit there and don’t play. I’ve tried playing spike ball but it involves way too much hand eye coordination and I’m so bad at it that it’s embarrassing. So I don’t play.”

“That same night, a group of them said ‘let’s play uno!’ And I was so happy to play something familiar that didn’t involve a lot of coordination. Then they said ‘we’re playing SPICY uno, right?’ And immediately my heart sank because I knew they were playing a different way that I wasn’t familiar with. Again, receiving verbal directions was hell and I didn’t understand it. I was so bad at it and wasn’t getting it, and in the middle of the game I had the urge to cry. I wanted to cry because I couldn’t even get this right. I suppressed the urge, of course, so they wouldn’t think I was even more weird than the already suspected. Another group of people that I wouldn’t fit in with.”

“Making friends has always been so difficult. Once I make a good friend I hang on to them for as long as possible even if they’re not very nice because I’m scared I’ll have to make a new one if I lose them. And we all know how hard making new friends is for me.”

“I’m a perfectionist. Especially with my art projects. When I took a painting class I realized I do it the wrong way. You’re supposed to paint layer by layer over the entire canvas and focus on small details at the very end. I work on one small area at a time and do small details too soon. I often spend way too much time on small details before I realize that the larger shape of the object isn’t proportionate and then it’s too late.”

“I won’t even attempt tasks if I know I can’t do them perfectly.”

“I have perfect pitch. I don’t know if that has anything to do with autism or that I just started music lessons when I was young. I can tune instruments perfectly without a tuner or reference note and I never understood why my orchestra teacher had me play the A key on the piano over and over again while she walked around and tuned everyone’s instruments when I could do it without any reference. I can hear it in my head.”

“When my parents got me a keyboard at age 7-8, they were impressed because I could sit down, without listening to any song and find the notes of a song I liked by ear. I still do that today but my piano is very out of tune and it bothers me.”

“Autistic boys tend to isolate and not care about concealing their stims or weird behavior but girls don’t. I am a ‘loner’ and always have been but I want so badly to belong and have friends and socialize, but I’ve always been so bad at it that I strike out every time. I often drink at social gatherings because it helps me loosen up and talk more freely. I guess it helps me lose the mask for a while.”

“I HATE people touching me. I’ve always hated it and still hate it to this day unless it’s someone I’m super comfortable with. I’ve been told I have the ‘dead fish hand shake’ and I’m an awkward hugger. My friend picked me up from behind and carried me for a few seconds because we were all goofing off and having fun but afterwards I was so mad at him I got really quiet and didn’t talk for a while. I told him later on the ride home that if he did that again I would slap him. “

“Everyone thinks it’s weird that I don’t like touching people, and some of my friends who also don’t like touching people were abused and I always thought, ‘there had to be a reason, maybe I was abused as a kid and repressed it.’ It’s been so long and I’ve finally realized that maybe it’s just because I have Aspergers or ASD. “

“When I make sarcastic remarks or jokes I often have to clarify because I say them in such a monotone way that people think I’m serious.”

“I’ve always joked that I’m just really clumsy and uncoordinated, and chalked it up to being tall and lanky. That’s why swimming was the perfect sport for me. Little to no risk of injury and not much hand eye coordination needed to be good at it. Just hours of practice, technique and endurance.”

“I also injure myself quite a lot because I’m ‘a klutz.’”

“Stims: I scratch my head and then smell my fingers and I will do this for hours if I am able (I know that one is weird so I only do it at home) popping my knuckles a ridiculous amount of times when I feel uncomfortable and don’t know what to do with my hands. I twirl my hair constantly (that one is pretty socially acceptable so I do it in class nonstop). I tap my foot or bounce my leg, I make weird facial expressions and forget to hide those. People notice but they often think it’s funny because I’ll make a face if someone says something dumb and make an expression that people seem to relate to. I scrunch my nose if I’m uncomfortable or just whenever.”

Special interests: Star Wars, Disney (I know every word to every Disney song and I watch animated Disney movies over and over again, like literally every night) dolphins, the ocean, dogs, theology/the Bible.

“With my art work, and other things, I will get so focused on a painting that I will work non stop for 8-9 hours (all day basically) and not eat because I’m so focused that I forget to eat.”

“I think I slur my words a lot and sometimes my friends will laugh and be like ‘did you just say ____.?!?!’And I’ll clarify and they will continue laughing and say ‘oh it sounded like you said this.’ I hate when that happens.”

“Loud noises really bother me. I jump if I hear an unexpected loud noise and I hate people yelling, even if it’s not directed at me, it makes me want to cry. “

“I loved the color blue so much as a kid (I still do) but my entire wardrobe was basically different shades of blue t-shirts. I also only ever wore baggy t-shirts and baggy cargo shorts (I kinda dressed like a boy) because it was comfortable and I didn’t like getting comments if I looked “cute today”. I hated the attention. I also never ever wore my hair down to school. It always had to be up in a tight pony tail. I still don’t like my hair being in my face to this day and wear it up almost every day.”

“The other day, I was hanging out with a friend and she was trying to tell a story but I kept getting distracted and interrupting her. She said, ‘Emily, you kind of interrupt people a lot.’ At first I was hurt, but then I realized it’s not entirely my fault and it’s an autistic thing.”

“I mask so much that I have rehearsed responses to social interactions and will often get so nervous or start speaking from the script before I realize I’ve said the wrong response. Of course I’ll think about it all day after that and think of ‘well great, so and so thinks I’m weird now.’”

[the-a-word-2214]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Raspberry Beret

Mars Blackmon x OC

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: I’m really excited for this series and I’m happy with how this first chapter turned out

Summary: Mars helps out a struggling artist

1,247 words

Chapter 1

The bustling streets of Brooklyn would have disturbed passerby tourists, but for one native, Scarlett Lewis, this was an everyday occurrence. The beret clad woman was currently speeding down the road on her bike to present her multi-medium pieces of art. She was stopped abruptly when one of her tires popped.

“Shit, shit, shit!” She cursed as she pulled over to the side of the road, conveniently next to a shop called Joey Chainz. It appeared to be a Coffee shop/Bike repair shop. She’d never stumbled upon a shop quite like it. “Well isn’t this fucking convenient.” She mumbled to herself as she looked up at the shop’s banner. She promptly took off her helmet and walked inside, bike in tow. She smoothed out her beret and walked towards the back of the shop where many bike parts were splayed out.

She noticed three workers in total, two men and one woman. The worker at the cash register immediately caught her eye. He had his hair pulled back into a messy bun while the sides were shaved. Extravagant glasses adorned his freckled face. An elaborate chain that read “Mars” hung from his neck. Scarlett was pulled from her thoughts when he spoke up. “What can I do for you, Mami?”

A faint blush has already made its way up Scarlett’s cheeks as he speaks and catches her staring. His wide smile reveals the gold grill on his bottom teeth. “Um, well I was riding on the road here when my tire popped.” She says as she motions to the pitiful tire that barely hung onto its frame. The man let out a chuckle as he inspected it. “A’ight, that'll be an easy fix.” He grabs her bike and props it up onto his workbench. He then takes off the popped tire and begins to put on a new one.

Scarlett looks around at her surroundings before settling her gaze back on the unique individual. “So um, what’s your name? If you don’t mind me asking.” She carefully approached the new subject. He smirked up at her before holding up his nameplate. “The name’s Mars Blackmon, my mama called me that because she said I was outta this universe.” Scarlett lets out a chuckle as she leans against the bench. “That’s a pretty cool name, I like it.” Mars chuckles and wiggles his bottom jaw, showing off the gold plated teeth. This was a quirk of his that Scarlett later became accustomed to.

Once the tire is back on, Mars accompanies Scarlett up to the front of the shop. He sits down at a table while Scarlett sits across from him. This artsy little Caucasian beauty caught his eye. He didn’t want to let her go without getting her number.

“So, what’s a raspberry beret-wearing beauty like you doing on this side of Brooklyn?” He questions her as he leans in towards her. She smiles at him and instantly recognizes the reference. “Yes I bought this because I love the song ‘Raspberry Beret’, you’re like the only person who noticed that. I’m here because of an art show of mine that’s going to be taking place near here tomorrow. I was originally going to be going there to set up but I was held back because of this lovely thing.” She explains as she motions to her old bike.

“Oh, shit! You’re that artist who painted that Prince mural! I knew I saw that beret somewhere.” He exclaims as a sudden spark of passion appears in his eyes. Scarlett nods and smiles at his reaction. “Yes! That was me.”

She shifts her chin to rest on her hand and quirks an eyebrow at him. “So what about you, what’s your hobby?” He briefly laughs and leans back in his seat. “I collect Jordan’s, I practically invented the term ‘Sneaker Head’, baby.” The woman chuckled and wiped the fake tears from her eyes. “I don’t think anyone has ever made me laugh that hard before.”

Mars smirks and rests his head on his hands. “What’s your name, chica?” He asks her. “Scarlett Lewis at your service.” She replies as she tips her hat.

Mars checks his watch before standing up from the table. “I gotta get back to work but I’d like you to see you again. You can drop by any time, a’ight?” Scarlett stands and puts back on her helmet. “Alright then, Mars. You really are out of this world.” She presses a chaste kiss to his cheek before she speeds off on her bike. Mars watches her go, a dopey grin on his face with his eyes as big as saucers.

The next day Scarlett does as Mars predicted. She stops by to see him. She immediately walks to the back of the shop like she’d done the previous day. “Scarlett! You walked your fine ass back here. You’ve got a brother trippin’ with that dress on.” He says as he looks her up and down, admiring the floral garment that she had on. “Yeah, I did come back. I came to officially give you my number so that I can send you the address of the art gallery where I’m presenting tonight.” She says and hands him a piece of paper with her number written on it. “Oh shit, yeah. You’ve got that gallery art thing going on. I promise I’ll be there, just me. None of my crew or nothin’.” The woman looks up at him and bites her lip. “I’d love that.” Her gaze lingers on him for a moment before she begins to walk away. “It’s at 8:00, see you there!”

Scarlett anxiously waited as she watched various art critics and the general public analyze her art. She had paintings and drawings that were up for display, she never liked sticking to one medium. She attempted to greet anyone who would approach her but she was so nervous that she had to sit down for a breather. Her eye caught a familiar man, now in semi-formal attire, who was searching the crowd for her. A smile crept onto his face as he came to sit down next to her. “This stuff is straight fire, Mami. You didn’t tell me you were this fucking good!” He motions to some of her more tedious works. “You could make it for real, cross my heart and hope to die.” He swore as he pressed a hand to his heart. The rest of the evening consisted of them chatting the night away.

After their first official date, which consisted of a bike ride to a cafe and back to Scarlett’s house, sparks began to fly. Mars was an unusual person who wore mismatched garments and let his “freak flag fly.” He has dyslexia and lives with his older sister in the projects. He barely makes enough to pay his half of the rent at Joey Chainz, but money isn’t everything. He’d seen people from all walks of life come and go due to the rise in gentrification in and around his neighborhood. His personality was silly and comical but he still cared about the people close to him. He liked the fact that Scarlett was his girl and that she saw the best in him. How couldn’t you love someone who wants to give you the world? It always hurt her when people would look down on him or think that he was imbecilic in any way because he wasn’t. He’s smarter than most people think.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #435

from yesterday, don’t feel like updating the answers. :^)

When you get married what do you think you’ll put most of your focus and money into? Uhhh. I really don't know... I mean maybe doing all I can do avoid debt? That's what my parents mostly argued about, and I know financial strain can really affect a couple. I never want that burden. Who in your life causes you the most stress or negative feelings? My damn self. Have you ever had a teacher that also taught your parents? No; my parents didn't grow up here. Wait! I THINK Mom had one of my college professors? I don't recall for sure, and I definitely don't remember who it was. Are you the type of person who seeks out revenge? Nah. Are there any songs that inspire you? Certainly, such as "Life Won't Wait" by Ozzy Osbourne, "Get Up" by Shinedown, and more. How do you feel about celebrities getting involved in politics? Do you think that the celebrity world and the political world should be kept apart? Not at all; everyone has the right to share their opinion and should not feel like it's necessary to censor it. Let them be people with morals and beliefs, too. I'm totally fine with them CHOOSING to be quiet about controversial subjects, but they're more than welcome to share their thoughts on any topic. What is one pro of living where you do, and what is one con? What is a pro and a con of living where you wished you lived? I guess the only real pro (and this is horrible to be the first thought) is that we're under the radar; like, not really a target for terrorism or anything, lol. I'd get kinda nervous if I lived in, like, Washington D.C. or something. We have A LOT of cons: there is NOTHING to do, we're essentially a hub for crime, the scenery is boring and bland as fuck... I could go on for a long time. I'd love to live in many areas in North America, but I'll go with Alaska, since that would absolute RULE. A strong pro would definitely be the cold climate and the sights, but it would definitely be a con to me when that relentless dark era lasts for months on end. I need the sun (from inside anyway, ha ha) sometimes, because it being dark for what, half a year?, would really damage my happiness. What is your favorite episode of your favorite TV show? Referring to Meerkat Manor, it's actually the one where Mozart dies, I think, even though it destroyed my heart. I just think the writer portrayed it as so beautifully tragic, and the clips shown were so pretty. Does having others watch you do things make you uncomfortable? What sorts of things make you extremely uncomfortable if you are watched while doing them? Are there any things that give you confidence to do if you have an audience? ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY. Do NOT watch me on the computer (especially when writing), I literally will not draw if someone's watching (inevitably besides in Art classes, I think Sara is legit the only person who's watched me draw a bit), I really don't like people watching me edit photography, I'm nooot a fan of others seeing me exercise (though I kinda have to suck that up with having a personal trainer), etc. etc. Just don't watch me do anything, lol. I don't know what actually boosts my confidence if I'm being observed. Does someone in your house speak a different language on a regular basis? No. Do you follow or care about any big sports events? Not at all. Are there any activities people normally do together that you prefer doing alone? Hm. I dunno. If you are going somewhere where you’ll have to wait for a while (i.e. a doctor’s office), do you bring something to occupy yourself? My phone, yeah. How long is your favorite song? I checked, and it's almost six minutes. Do you think you’d ever want to be “internet famous”? I'll admit I've somewhat thought about it, only because my career choices are running so dry, and I'd be able to do it alone. However, I've got noooo idea what I'd actually do, and I also don't think I could handle ridicule or anything like that for any reason. Having a spotlight on me would stress me out. Who was the main cook of your Thanksgiving meal last year? My older sister. What moment in your life have you been most scared? Probably this one occasion where Dad had to pick my sister and me up from school one day and make the 30-minute drive home. Well. He was clearly in a hellish mood because he was flying. He ran stop signs and red lights, passed people illegally... I was in the passenger's seat and absolutely convinced we were going to crash. I can barely believe we didn't. Who was the last person you slow danced with? -_- Do you prefer headphones or earbuds? Earbuds. I like how they block out external sound better, and they don't hurt my ears like headphones do. What person/people do you trust the most? My mom. Who in your life do you care about more than yourself? My parents, sisters, my nieces and nephew, Sara... A lot of people, if I'm being honest. I don't value my life as much as I should. Which wild animal would you most like to have as a pet? I am DESPERATE to rescue an opossum one day. :''''( What teacher did all the high school boys/girls have a crush on? I have no idea. Have you ever felt seriously violated? No. Do you watch American Horror Story? I adore(d) the first season; it was mine and Jason's "show." We watched most of season two as well, but I lost interest in the later half of it. I haven't really watched it since, save for the pilot episode of some season I forgot. Does your hometown have any urban legends/scary stories? Not to my knowledge. What’s the scariest nightmare you remember having? Something involving my dad that I won't speak about. Pancakes or French toast? Oh my god, French toast. That sounds delicious rn. Are there any apps you’re addicted to? Not addicted, nah. Did you have a favorite stuffed animal as a child? Yes; it was a bunny holding a multicolor polka-dotted blanket. Do you still collect stuffed animals? Hell yeah. Have you ever had eggs cooked over a campfire? No. What colors of mascara have you worn on your lashes? Just black. What font do you usually use? I mean, it depends on what I'm doing. Is it supposed to appear professional? Aesthetically pleasing? It varies too much to answer this with one font. What about font colors? Usually just black, but again, it depends on what I'm writing. Are you good at making graphics or designing layouts? Ha, no. Do you put gel or mousse in your hair? No. Sleep with just one pillow? No, I use two. I am VERY uncomfortable with just one. Ever woke up crying? Yeah, from nightmares. Do you like big dogs or small dogs better? It depends on the breed and their energy level. I don't really prefer one over the other as a general judgment. Are you going to graduate high school on time? I did. Been to the zoo lately? No, but I'd love to go. :/ Now that I'd consider myself at least a pretty decent photographer, I'd love to see what shots I could take. I LOVE photographing animals with how unpredictable they are. It's like playing the lottery; you really don't know what you're going to get, but you have the chance for seriously priceless moments. Even if we could afford the trip, though, I know I wouldn't last long whatsoever with my legs being as weak as gelatine. I know especially that there's a notable incline in the path, and I'd never make it up it. I really, really look forward to the day where I can really start feeling a difference in my body thanks to the gym. Have you ever been to Mississippi? No. What did you do for your last birthday? We went to The Cheesecake Factory. Do you like to cook? No. What is the worst thing that has happened to you in your entire life? If I'm looking at the big picture and what truly damaged my pleasure in life the most, it'd be developing depression and such intense anxiety. I've given up so much and changed so negatively because of it. Do you know when your next family reunion will be? We've never had one. My family is too spread out. What is your favorite thing to do with your significant other? I'm single, but even in a relationship, I love playing video games together. I've got multiple memories of just having a great time doing that. Where is “home” for you? Wherever Mom is. Is there an animal that creeps you out? Whale sharks, maggots and other bug larvae, centipedes, many beetles, and some other bugs. What is the name of the last band you discovered? Uhhh.. good question. I admittedly don't listen to new music a lot. I tend to stick to the stuff I know. Do you prefer group projects, or would you prefer to work alone? I would rather kick my ankle against a Razer scooter than do a group project. Have you ever been to Hooters? No. Do you have a brother? What’s his name? Yeah, Robert, but everyone calls him "Bobby." Have you ever thought that your life was so bad you wanted to give up? About a billion times. I still do sometimes. Do you have a ceiling fan located in your bedroom? Yes. Have you ever been in a lighthouse? No, but I was supposed to visit one in the fourth grade. The water was way too aggressive that day, though, so we had a change of plans and went to a closer island. Hell, it might have been the better option, because it had horses. I remember collecting seashells, too, and just watching the power of the ocean hammer at the shores. It was really pretty. Have you ever been bitten by an animal? Only playfully, like by a cat. Well wait, I think my old baby iguana may have bitten me once (he sure tried to, ha ha), but I don't remember for sure. Did it rain today? Yes. It rains pretty much every afternoon here in the late summer. What was the name of the last dog you pet? Zeke, my sister's German shepherd. He's adorable. Has your luggage ever been lost at the airport? Did you get it back? No. Do you have certain friends that you hug every time you see them? I pretty much always hug my friends when I see them. I'm a big hugger. Have you ever witnessed a tornado? No, thank the fucking Lord. Who is your favorite person to talk to when you’re down? Sara. What are you listening to right now? "Blood For Blood" by Powerwolf. Can you get over people easy? Hell no. I do NOT handle loss well AT ALL. And not just romantically. What was the last thing you carried to your room? A drink. Do you drink water that comes from your sink? Only once it's been filtered. Have you ever prank called the police? That is fucking awful. No. What’s your LEAST favorite smiley? XD looks so stupid to me I'm sorry lmao xD reigns supreme. Do you like Italian food? Yeah, more than I used to. Have you ever put red lipstick on just to make lip marks on something? No. Do you watch Shane Dawson on YouTube? Isn't his career pretty much toast now? I DID used to love his videos, though. I still occasionally watch his fiance, though, and he pops up sometimes. Regardless of everything, I still think he's funny as fuck. Would you ever spend a day to see what it’s like to be homeless? NOOOOOOO NO NO NO NO. I am TERRIFIED of living on the streets someday. I want NO idea what it's like. Is the house you’re currently living in over 50 years old? I highly doubt that. Have you ever had a yard sale? Many. What is your favorite color? Baby pink. Did you have a good day or a bad day? Today was extreeeemely dull and felt like it lasted eons. Do you know anyone that has/had cancer? I sadly know maaaaany. Have you ever read somebody else’s diary? No, that is incredibly rude. Do you enjoy going to school? I hated it from start to end. Like I have good memories, but overall, I hated school. Were you a big jump roper back in the day? OHHHH YES. I almost learned how to double-dutch, even. I could jump with two ropes, but not jump in with two. Are you a local celebrity? Definitely not. Do you eat candy daily? No. I'm already fat dude, I don't need candy. I avoid candy as best as I can. Do you get nervous with public speaking? Like you would not believe. How old were you when you got your driver's license (if you have it)? I'm 25 and still don't have it. Has someone of the opposite sex ever told you they loved you? Yes. What memory are you most afraid of losing? Meh, I don't know. A lot of what I consider my "favorite" memories I'd honestly be better off losing, probably. Who accompanied you to your first concert? My mom, younger sister, and Jason. Would you rather have tickets to see your favorite band in concert, or $100 to go shopping? TAKE ME TO THE OZZY CONCERT. What do you usually eat for breakfast? It really varies. I'd say cereal most often, probably? Do you wish you were more outgoing? Yeah. Do you know anyone who wears a hearing aid? I don't think so?

[starstruck-xavier]

Panicking Stranger

ao3 || wattpad || fanfic masterpost || main masterpost || inspired by this post <3

words: 1647 ships: prinxiety (no romance implied / they just met), background logicality, background dukeceit characters: roman, virgil, everyone else mentioned warnings: panic attack extra: thank you to @coconut-cluster for giving me the idea! i may write a follow-up involving those tags where they keep running into each other also loll

summary: “Can you tell me your name?” He’s confused and moderately concerned when he’s met with a shake of the head. “No? You don’t know your name?” The stranger nods, puzzling him even more. “Yes… Yes, like you do or yes you don’t?” He’s met with a frustrated huff of air. “You know your name but can’t tell me?” Roman feels like he’s reached a little for that last question, but then he receives a nod. Upon tilting his head with curiosity, the stranger pulls his hands away and holds them up. Can you sign?

The city is beautiful on these days. Waves of laughter rise above the base of chatter and the chitter of the birds in the trees while various groups of people mill about the public garden. Photographers, high schoolers ditching, adorable old couples, you name it. The spring weather is perfectly pleasant, not uncomfortably hot but not particularly chilly either, and the sun is framed by the distant terraces beautifully from the angle where the artist sits cross-legged by the bushes with his sketchpad, which has the name ‘Roman’ embellished into it in elegant cursive. He brandishes a variety of pencils and has colourful little paperweights scattered about him, protecting his drawing references from the gentle breeze. Everything is serene, calm, almost perfect.

The only thing that could possibly bring Roman out of his wistful trance is the sound of heavy footsteps, accompanied by equally heavy breathing. There’s a small thud some distance away, and he looks over to see someone about ten feet away on the grass. He looks visibly upset and shaky, with smudged makeup under his eyes and faded purple hair. His arms are secured tightly around his own middle as if he’s trying to cut off circulation to the lower half of his body.

“Hey, are you okay, buddy?” Roman calls out softly with his eyebrows furrowed in concern. It’s not often that he sees someone so distraught; perhaps at the college library during exam season, but never so out in the open. The stranger turns his head sharply towards Roman and pauses, then nods with a grimace that’s so obviously forced that Roman nearly ignores the yes and moves over anyway, but he decides to only press, just once. “Are you sure?” Another forceful nod.

Roman watches for a moment longer as the stranger goes back to hunching over himself and shakily breathing, wondering if he should ask again, but decides against it. If he doesn’t want to spill his brains to a stranger, that should be respected, he tells himself as he turns back to his sketches.

About ten minutes go by, in which he’s back to being fully immersed in his art. He has a pretty good light outline of the terraces and has even added in some birds and flowers for extra embellishment. As long as he can get this done on time, he’s confident he’ll get a top grade for this project. Just thinking about it makes him excited. He takes a short break, fishing around in his backpack for a water bottle when he catches a glimpse of that mysterious stranger again, and he looks more upset than ever, tears streaming almost passively out of his eyes and his body rocking back and forth. In fact, Roman instantly notices the telltale signs of a panic attack and feels a pang of guilt in his heart. Then, he hears a soft whimpering over the breeze and he decides he can’t just ignore him.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” He makes an agile movement over to the stranger and sits down in front of him. “Can you hear me?” The stranger looks up at him. He has one of his hoodie sleeves pressed over his nose and mouth and an awful, gut-wrenching sob escapes his throat, but there’s a glint of human recognition in his eyes, so Roman continues. “Take a deep breath in for me. C’mon, in…” He inhales with exaggeration and watches the stranger drag the air into his lungs like trying to breathe tarmac, just barely, the fabric of his sleeve hindering him. “Can I take your hand away from your face, sweetheart?”

There’s a moment when Roman suddenly regrets letting the nickname slip, unsure if it’d even be received well, but eventually, he’s holding a tearstained hand to his chest so that the stranger can feel his lungs expand and contract. They spend the next few minutes just breathing together, forgetting that they don’t even know each other, oblivious to everything else going on around them. The chitter of the birds and the chatter of the city dwellers go ignored because all that matters to Roman right now is calming this ball of nerves in front of him.

Once the stranger seems calm enough despite the tears and little hiccoughs, Roman reaches out to take his other hand and moves onto grounding exercises. “Can you tell me your name?” He’s confused and moderately concerned when he’s met with a shake of the head. “No? You don’t know your name?” The stranger nods, puzzling him even more. “Yes… Yes, like you do or yes you don’t?” He’s met with a frustrated huff of air. “You know your name but can’t tell me?” Roman feels like he’s reached a little for that last question, but then he receives a nod. Upon tilting his head with curiosity, the stranger pulls his hands away and holds them up.

Can you sign?

Oh. “Why, yes.” Roman speaks out loud but starts to sign with his hands while he talks out of habit. “I’m fluent in sign. Would you like to talk to me that way?”

The stranger nods and briefly swipes his hand across his teary face before signing again. My name is Virgil. I can speak but being overwhelmed makes me unable to for a while.

Roman nods understandingly. “Ah, you’re overwhelmed. Is there anything that usually helps you that I can do, Virgil?”

Just grounding techniques, I guess. Virgil makes a flicker of eye contact with Roman before looking down at the grass, but he seems to be trusting him.

“I was just trying grounding techniques by asking your name,” A playful smile tugs at the corners of Roman’s lips. “but I’ll continue. Do you know where you are?”

The public garden.

“Good. Are you in college or anything?”

Yes, I'm in English Literature. Virgil cracks a tiny smile. Sanders University.

“Hey, that’s where I go!” Roman claps his hands together excitedly, forgetting that he's supposed to be asking grounding questions yet again. “You might know my brother, Remus. He’s in English Lit too.”

The breathy laugh that leaves Virgil’s mouth is enough to fill Roman’s heart with warmth. Virgil’s smile reaches his eyes, and he looks almost ethereal suddenly, and on top of that, he then starts to speak. “Oh my god, that’s your brother?” His voice is quiet and a little hoarse, but Roman falls in love with it nonetheless.

“You know him?” Roman beams. He’s filled with a multitude of emotions, happiness being the main one as he’s successfully brought Virgil out of that awful looking panicked state and then made him smile.

“Yeah, you must be Roman, then.” Virgil says, then Roman suddenly remembers he never even told him his name.

“Ah yes, I’m Roman. I never told you, my bad.” He hums bashfully, but Virgil smiles again.

“It’s alright. Remus kinda rubbed me the wrong way when I met him, but he’s my good friend now. He’s talked about you a few times.”

Now it’s Roman’s turn to laugh. “Hopefully he’s not besmirching my reputation. However, I’m not surprised he conflicted with you. He does that with a lot of people. I'm glad you get along though.”

Virgil hums in agreement. “He told me you’re really loud and boisterous, but you’ve been rather calm with me.”

“I am quite loud usually,” Roman muses. “but I know when I need to be calm for someone else. When I saw you panicking, you were reminding me of a friend of mine, Logan. Last year he had a series of nervous breakdowns from work overload and I learned to help him through each one. The first time, I kinda panicked with him because I didn’t know what was going on and the noise made him worse, so I was quieter with him for the rest of them. I guess I saw him in you.”

“Aw,” Virgil wears a kind expression. “You’re a real good friend.”

The compliment only causes Roman’s heart to melt even more to the point where he’s not sure he’ll recover, smiling so widely his face begins to hurt. “Thank you so much, Virge. I really do try.”

“And, it’s a small world, isn’t it?” His voice starting to strengthen again, Virgil turns the questions onto Roman. “I’m sure my friend Patton has a boyfriend called Logan who had a massive mental break last year. He was telling me about it.”

Roman gasps with awe. “Oh, wow. We really should’ve been introduced sooner, huh? Anyone else we both know?”

Virgil thinks for a moment, then smirks playfully. “Remus’ boyfriend, Janus?”

“Boyfriend?! Ooh, he never told me he and Jan finally got together!” The two share a laugh, talking the hours away and forgetting about the circumstance that had them interacting in the first place. Virgil’s eyeshadow has smeared across his face after crying, but he’s unexpectedly enjoying himself today when he’d previously thought that today was going to be a bad day. Meanwhile, Roman had been enjoying today already, even if he’d only describe it as ‘almost perfect’. Almost. Then, it appeared to worsen when he saw that stranger having such a hard time, but now the stranger’s become a friend. Unknowingly, a friend of many other friends. And this means they’ll most definitely be hanging out much more often. And neither of them reject that idea.

Even after such an emotional rollercoaster, they can both still hear the usual waves of laughter rising above the base of chatter and the chitter of the birds in the trees. The weather is still pleasant, neither of them are too hot or cold, even with Virgil in that thick hoodie of his, and Roman suddenly remembers that his sketchpad and paperweights are still sat just ten feet away by the bushes, his drawing references protected by the gentle breeze. Gentle.

And it’s all gonna be okay.

[tfiolarry]

one: conincing

summary: after announcing the band’s hiatus, harry and louis announce their love, their soon-to-be marriage, and their two kids (who won’t be in a baby carriage).

[masterlist] [two]

ask us anything!

a/n: gif not ours creds to owner 

One Direction Taking Extensive Hiatus Starting Next Month!

Yes, you read the title right: One Direction is going in many directions. We know - try to remain calm, Directioners. 

As one of the biggest boy bands to take over the 2010s, selling out tours in arenas and stadiums around the world, the foursome has decided that they will be taking a break for at least a year, starting next month and following the departure of Zayn Malik. Sources tell us that they will be using this time to “pursue solo projects”, rather than promoting their fifth album, due to release later this year. 

•• 

Rumor Has It Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles Are Together!

FINALLY! Larry shippers, this one’s for you - the ship is sailing! 

Former One Direction members, Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson, are getting cuffing season started right with some cozy by the fireplace pics in Harry's lovely London home. 

Harry Styles posted a picture late Friday night of his feet along with another pair of feet by the fireplace. Hold the foot fetishes, guys - LARRY’S REAL. It's so obviously Louis, especially because of his famous “The Rouge” tattoos on his ankles. 

We all knew Wellington wasn’t just a figment of our imagination.

•• 

Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson Are Getting Hitched!

That’s right folks, Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson both liked it and appear to have put some rings on it. Finally!

Earlier tonight, Harry Styles posted an Instagram picture holding a ring with no caption, with his boyfriend-now-turned-fiancé Louis Tomlinson in the background. Not even ten minutes later, Louis posted a picture of Harry as well. The caption? “Can’t wait to say I do.” Too cute!

According to fan theory, this romance dates all the way back to their days on The X-Factor, coining the name “Larry Stylinson” to refer to this adorable pairing.(Article: “The Timeline Of Larry Stylinson, As Told By A One Direction Superfan!”) Sources have confirmed that after much time together, the two are definitely ready to “take their relationship to the next step.” 

Oh, how far they’ve come.

••

Louis Tomlinson to Paps -  “We’re in love and adopting two little girls.”

What? What? Whaaaat?

A lot to unpack here. 

While out on town today, Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles got tangled up with some nosy paparazzi. Yikes! The Hollywood Fix caught the two getting in their car asking about the engagement, when Louis frustratedly tells them that they are, in fact, very much so in love and going to be adopting children. 

• •

WEDNESDAY

4:32 PM

STYLINSON HOME - LONDON

Harry and Louis arrive at home, carrying smaller backpacks of the girls’ clothes and toys while holding their hands. They step into the foyer and Louis and Harry let go of their hands. Dani and Jordyn looking around and up at their surroundings, almost as if nonverbally asking if it’s okay to go ahead without them. 

LOUIS: You guys can go, it’s okay…

Dani and Jordyn look at each other and then run off, ending up somewhere in the living room. Louis looks at Harry, not saying anything but smiling a little.

HARRY: (looks at Louis) What? 

LOUIS: Nothing, just...it’s crazy that we actually did this. Like, they’re here in our house for real.

HARRY: (smiles too) I know, we’re, like...officially parents. (gasps while covering his mouth)

LOUIS: (laughs a little and nods) That we are. (looks at the kiddos) We should probably get them in some kind of routine, no? With their rooms and dinner and stuff? Is it too soon for that? (looks at Harry) Now I’m kinda nervous.

HARRY: (looks at the kids) Don’t be nervous, bub - we got this. We should probably get them settled in their room, though...or...rooms? Should we separate them? 

LOUIS: Maybe that’s too soon. Imagine being one of these two, tiny sorta-kinda strangers in a big, weird house with some bigger, scruffy lookin’, sorta-kinda strangers - personally, I would not wanna be alone.

HARRY: (looks at him and puts a hand on his chest) Did you just call me fat? 

LOUIS: (laughs, like genuinely) So annoying, I would never and you know that.

HARRY: (looks away) That’s right, never.

JORDYN: (knocks over a big plant and looks at Dani in a panic and whispers) Oh no.

DANI: (looks at her with wide eyes and then at Louis and Harry and then Jordyn again) Uh oh. (runs away as a small bundle of panic, hoping Jordyn follows)

JORDYN: (follows Dani)

HARRY: (watches them run away) Where are they going? (laughs and walks to see the plant is on the floor with a little dirt on the ground)

LOUIS: (follows Harry, laughing) I have no idea, I don’t even think they know where they’re going yet. (looks at the dirt on the floor) Perhaps first things first in our parent duty - get fake houseplants.

HARRY: (looks around for them) First thing is to actually clean this mess up while I go find the kids. (walks away to go look for the kiddos)

LOUIS: Aye aye, captain. (goes and grabs their broom from the kitchen and brings it to the scene of the crime, handling the fallen plant gently so he doesn’t ruin it at all and starts sweeping up the dirt)

HARRY: (goes to look in the bathroom because he hears some little voices coming from there and he peeks his head in)

JORDYN: (gasps when she sees Harry and hides behind Dani)

DANI: (pouts) Noooo….(moves from in front of Jordyn, no longer being a shield, and tries to climb in the bathtub to hide instead)

JORDYN: (whines) Dani… (pouts as well and looks at Harry with puppy eyes) I sorry.

HARRY: (smiles) It’s okay, we’re not mad or...upset or anything. (kneels down in front of Jordyn) Are you guys hungry? You want something to eat?

DANI: (gasps and gives up climbing the tub and sits on the floor instead) Yeah.

JORDYN: (just nods her head still a little nervous)

HARRY: Alright. (stands up and holds both his hands out for the girls) Let’s go eat!

JORDYN: (takes his hand)

DANI: (gets up, smiles a lot and goes to him, grabbing his hand)

HARRY: (sings) Food time. (walks out the bathroom with the girls)

JORDYN: (giggles) You funny. 

HARRY: (looks down at her) You think so?

JORDYN: (nods) 

HARRY: (looks at Dani) What about you? What do you think? 

DANI: (looks at him like she’s thinking about it, like a little head tilt and everything)

HARRY: Oh. I see how it is. 

JORDYN: (looks at her) Say he funny Dani. (pouts)

DANI: (giggles and nods) Yeah, you funny. See? (points to herself and smiles really big)

HARRY: (laughs) Very convincing, Dani, thank you.

JORDYN: (looks up at Harry) What conincing? 

DANI: (nods and looks at Harry) Yeah, what?

HARRY: (looks at both of them and then up and sees Louis) Hey sweetheart, how do you explain to three year olds what “convincing” means? 

LOUIS: (looks at him and then hums in thought before looking at Dani and Jordy) Well, I would say...convincing means...that you mean it for real. No funny stuff. 

DANI: (nods once) For real.

LOUIS: (nods back and waits for confirmation from Jordy that it makes sense to her too)

JORDYN: Okay.

HARRY: Okay, food Louis?

JORDYN: Lou Lou. (giggles)

LOUIS: Lou Lou is definitely down for food, but what are we feeding these adorable children, Harold, lover of mine and light of my life?

HARRY: Um... (looks at the girls) ...chicken tenders?

JORDYN: (eyes go so wide) Yes! Please? 

LOUIS: So that’s a winner. (to Harry) We should stock up then. (starts going to the kitchen)

WEDNESDAY

8:05 PM

STYLINSON HOME - LONDON

After dinner is done Harry and Louis make sure the girls are washed up and their teeth are brushed. They show them their room which they chat a bit about nonsense the little ones want to talk about. 

DANI: (in the middle of a story about a friend in the foster home) ...and the ball, it went—(gestures with her hand)—like that to a, um…(gestures to explain a bush with her hands) lots of leaves, and then, it was gone. (nods as if that made all the sense in the world)

LOUIS: That is quite a story, Dani, did you get it back?

DANI: Yeah.

LOUIS: I’m glad. 

JORDYN: Dani cry.

HARRY: You cried over the ball Dani? (pouts at her)

DANI: Yeah, it gone, I sad, I cry. 

LOUIS: Yeah Harry, c’mon, it only makes sense. 

DANI: (nods) For real.

JORDYN: Conincing. (nods)

HARRY: Alright, sorry, geez.

JORDY: (looks at Louis) I sleep here? (points to her bed)

LOUIS: Yeah, that’s your bed, and Dani’s gonna be over there. (points casually to the other bed, probably on the other side of the room)

DANI: (looks confused) Why?

LOUIS: Why?

DANI: Yeah.

LOUIS: ...Did you want the floor?

DANI: (looks at him even more confused than before) No? (looks at Harry) Why?

HARRY: (looks at her confused) Because that is your bed and this is Jordyn’s.

JORDYN: (pouts and looks at Dani) 

DANI: (looks at Jordyn and then at Harry and Louis) You too?

LOUIS: Us too what, love?

DANI: Like…(points to their separate beds to make a point)

LOUIS: (shakes his head) No. It’s different.

DANI: (looks at Jordyn sadly) Okay…

JORDYN: (blows kisses to Dani) We big girl, ‘member? (nods)

DANI: (shrugs) Yeah...

LOUIS: (looks at Harry, mouthing) Did we mess up already?

HARRY: (looks at Louis and shrugs) Okay, well (looks at the girls), you girls gotta go to bed and get your beauty sleep.

JORDYN: (lays down) Night night.

DANI: (baby sighs and gets off of Jordyn’s bed and shuffles over to her own and sits sadly)

LOUIS: (looks at her and laughs a little) Oh, stop it, bug, you’re not far. (nudges Jordyn) Say hi so she knows you’re still here.

DANI: No.

LOUIS: (looks at her) That won’t help?

DANI: (shakes her head and lays down too)

LOUIS: You’re so cute, c’mon…

DANI: (with all her tiny might, unmakes her bed and gets under the covers, from head to toe)

LOUIS: (looks at Harry) Should we have done bunk?

HARRY: Maybe? I’m sorry, Dani. 

JORDYN: Dani, I wuv you! 

DANI: (muffled because she’s hiding) I wuv you too. (to Harry) It’s okay. 

LOUIS: Alright, we’re gonna go now so you guys can sleep, you guys are okay, right?

DANI: (peeks from under her blanket) Yeah.

JORDY: For real. 

HARRY: (looks at Louis) Conincing. (looks back at the girls) Alright goodnight. 

LOUIS: (laughs and gets up) Goodnight, babies.

DANI: Bye bye.

Harry and Louis leave.

JORDYN: (whisper yells) Dani! 

DANI: (looks at Jordyn all smiley) Hi. (giggles) 

A/N: we were fourteen and had big dreams of becoming fic writers. the idea for the fault in our larents came to be for the mere reason of creating a dream life using a ship we both loved - the one and only larry stylinson. over the years (yes, literal years) the story has evolved and grown, including other generations and going through a few rewrites until it became the version in which we present today. blood, sweat, fights and tears have been poured into this. pls enjoy it.