#i did it mainly to have leftovers but its still a lot....

[odysseys-blood]

inviting all my mutuals to come have breakfast for dinner with me

[stave-writes]

Scruffy! (Various Dungeon Meshi Men x GN!Reader)

Summary: Your boyfriend really needs a trim of his stubble, and he's asked for your help :)

Word Count: 1711

Laios Touden

We all know Laios does NOT like being scruffy, especially when Falin tells him he looks like their father. So, it's a lovely thing when he asks you to look after him and help him shave.

Laios had been a little finicky lately, ever since leaving the dungeon he was a lot more conscious about himself. Mainly, his appearance. Rubbing at his new stubble and brushing his blonde hair that had grown out in places. Irritation was plainly visible each time he felt the slight scratch of stubble against his fingers, even a slight huff to his tone afterwards. "Hey, could I ask a favour?" was his innocuous question, head tilting back over the edge of your sofa. After an inquisitive sound of acknowledgement from you, a slight smile rose on Laios's face. "Mind helping me shave? I also want to cut my hair but can't see the back."

This is how you ended up sitting on the edge of your tub, scissors working away at the tufts of hair against the nape of his neck. Each little brush of your fingers against his skin caused a small giggle or shuffle from Laios, if he were a dog, his tail would be smacking against your leg so hard it'd hurt a little. A smile was visible on his lips every time you'd lean over to peek at him, and he'd look up at you eyes full of love.

"Did you know that tons of monster species use grooming as a form of intimacy?" Of course, you did, you're dating Laios Touden, if you didn't you'd have amnesia. Instead of an eye roll, you gave a little smile and nod.

Reaching his hand up, a pat against your leg was a signal he hadn't just passed out between your knees while you worked at giving him the cut he liked. A quick kiss pressed to your lips was a thankful gesture, nuzzling into your face before moving to work on shaving his stubble to save you from the beard scratches.

Chilchuck Tims

I see Chilchuck as the type of guy to have some time dedicated to a little self-care, although shaving isn't a big problem considering the half-footer's ageing span. But! His hair does still grow, so some help may be needed there.

It'd been a week since Chilchuck asked you to remind him to go get a haircut, and he still hadn't gone despite your near-constant reminders. Post-its on the counter, on his lockpicking tools, hell you once stuck one on his face for him to see in the mirror. At this point, it was getting ridiculous that he hadn't even gone to try and get it done.

"You're going to cut my hair...? I can just go get it done in town-" He huffed a little at you, rubbing at the back of his neck with a small frown. Your adamance had his stubbornness outweighed almost tenfold, so you rolled up a stool behind his chair and began to figure out how to trim his hair.

Hair was scattered everywhere by the time you were done, and Chilchuck's ego was only a little bruised by the number of grey hairs you saw while trimming it. He didn't seem to mind it too much though, the presence of a wagging tail that was usually hidden away under his clothing batting at your leg. At least his hair was finally trimmed, and a thankful kiss was pressed to your knuckles as you got up to sweep away the leftover hair.

Senshi of Izganda

Senshi doesn't particularly care for shaving or even washing his beard but knowing the kind of bacteria facial hair can carry (and after a lecture from Marcille) he's willing to have you help him with that beard the size of Cousin It from the Addams Family.

"Ah, I suppose Marcille's nagging finally got to me, that's all. I hope you don't mind helping me wash my beard, it'll take a while." Senshi muttered slightly, looking aside as he asked you for just a little favour. It was hard to ask such a thing from you, especially with how much you'd done already for him by just being with him. He felt absurdly lucky when you agreed, setting his helmet and upper armour aside to clean off his beard and hair.

It was a nicer experience than usual having a loving touch working at his hair first to wet it, then lather it and working slowly to get all the dirt out. It took a long long time to finish the first round of washing the hair and beard, alongside the several other scrubbing and washing rounds. It was an intensive process, but being able to smell clearly the soap in his hair was a good bonus, alongside the lack of a helmet.

Letting him dry for a few hours was the best idea you'd had this entire time, able to bury your face against the wall of fluff you called Senshi for a long while. The smell was great and the warmth was greater, you could've honestly slept there if you wanted. But, you had a plan! Readying a comb, boar bristle brush and your sanity, you began braiding Senshi's hair into long thick plaits and tying them off once you were done. It was tenuous but an enjoyable closeness, as you pressed your face into his back slightly. You couldn't help but marvel at your work when you were all done. The happy expression on your face made it hard for Senshi to resist placing a kiss on the crown of your head, a soft look in his eyes.

Toshiro Nakamoto

A large part of the teachings Toshiro lives by is to exist as a convenience to others, not asking much and not putting his needs in the forefront. So, when Toshiro comes to you asking for help looking after himself? It's a sign of trust. He knows you.

"You...would you help me?" Toshiro's voice is quiet and soft as he addresses you, a slight crease in his brow as he looks towards you. It's hard to be vulnerable around you even if you're adamant in your love for him. Even as you assure him it's not a bother to help him and that you're here for him, it's still... nerve-wracking. It's hard for him to settle himself as he eventually moves first to sit down on your bed, having you brush out his hair and praise the length and colour of his locks, he's still worried.

He's guided towards your bath and urged to get into the warm water, leaning his head back so you can scrub away any remaining dirt and eventually, he peeks an eye open to see your face as you work at making sure he's sparkling clean. The slight furrow in your brow, your intense posture and a huff finally as you finish cleaning his hair. He can't help but smile at your effort to look after him especially as Toshiro can feel the exhaustion melt away at your careful consideration of him.

Before he knew it, he was basically asleep in your tub, head leant back with your fingers working at his hair and scalp. The feeling of safety was all he needed from you. When it was done, he dried off and changed into some comfortable clothes he'd left with you before curling up beneath your duvet, head resting into the crook of your neck.

Mithrun of the House of Kerensil

Mithrun struggles with self-care due to his lack of desires and is used to being looked after by others. With you, though, it was different. Your touch was imbued with love, and you didn't choose to look after him because someone ordered you to, just...because you wanted to see him cared for.

Looking after Mithrun sometimes could be a lot, making sure he ate and bathed and slept all while making sure he kept his mana up enough for his work with the canaries. So, it'd been easier to devise a schedule for all the things that would need to be done by day and then by week. Three baths a week, each one day apart. Three meals a day, four hours apart except for dinner which was at 6pm on the dot. A good schedule helped you and Mithrun look after yourselves, but you hadn't quite yet accounted for trimming his hair.

It had gotten longer than you had thought before you remembered to check the length of his hair, playing with the silver locks that framed his face and moved to cover his false eye a little. With a slight curl at the ends and parted just along the side, it was an easy style to maintain, especially for someone so consistently fatigued. So, when it came time to trim it down, an afternoon was allocated and Mithrun was given a book to entertain him while you worked.

On the floor, resting on a pillow was the middle-aged elf who you were looking after. Tilting his head forward a little, you brushed through those light-coloured locks and parted them into smaller sections before taking them between your middle and pointer finger, working to even it out and take a little length off. This process was repeated for each section of hair, fingers lightly brushing his face at one point which caused a little startled jump to come from Mithrun, looking at you with his good eye almost inquisitively. In the end, though, you finished off trimming it all quite quickly, evening it all out and even taking some longer strands from the front and braiding them like he'd done when he was much younger...before the dungeon.

Even if it was hard to see, a little smile played on his lips as he embraced your touches, leaning back after you proudly announced you were done. His face squished into your thigh, a little bump of his against you like a cat trying to get their owner's attention. Taking advantage of your curiosity at this action, your hand was brought to his face and he snuggled into it slightly, enjoying the reaction it spurred from you. He may not desire much, but he knows how to love you.

[cloveroctobers]

DECEMBER DRABBLES — 5. Carmy Berzatto x black! Reader 🌨️

Synopsis; We love a girlfriend who can’t cook but tries to do something sweet for her chef boyfriend.

A/N: this is for my sisters that can’t cook for shit but try their hardest. I feel for y’all…let me shut up like I’m really out here actually cooking full meals lmao! but will that stop me from acting like I’m on a chopped segment? No. + I just started rewatching this series and realized I missed out on a lot the first round lol.

PROMPT: #22. “I wanted to make you a holiday dinner, but I forgot I can’t cook.”

.༊*·˚ .༊*·˚ .༊*·˚ .༊*·˚ .༊*·˚ .༊*·˚ .༊*·˚ .༊*·˚ .༊*·˚ .༊*·˚ . .

Fresh flakes fell from Carmen Berzatto’s straggly hair as he lightly shook it, entering his apartment at the late hour.

He sniffed mainly to stop his nose running from the frigid air, as he tossed his black wool coat onto a coat hook and that’s when he smelled something faint but not so pleasant.

Using the wall for leverage, he kicked off his work shoes and went by the front door, heading straight to the kitchen. He expected to see leftover pans still in his sink from a spinach frittata he took the time to make for breakfast two days ago but…found it clean. The blue eyed man scratched at his brow, trying to rack his brain on when he got around to doing that, until his eyes focused on something wrapped sitting on the stove.

Carmen gripped the aluminum, pulling at its edges to see what appeared to be a sweet potato pie. The only thing that looked wrong was it’s evident shape, the crust also was too thick, uneven and not flaky. He couldn’t speak for the taste and desserts wasn’t his specialty but Carmen Berzatto was positive that he did not make this monstrosity.

Who the fuck’s been in his apartment?

As soon at that thought whipped through his mind, he shifted his body to his cramped living space. Something green slid across the counter towards him and into the sink, revealing to be wrapped in a red bow at its stems with one single bell attached.

Frowning, Carmy plucked up the plant to bring up to his eyesight and took in its earthy scent of the mistletoe. That’s when his eyes moved back to his living room to see her standing in his line of vision, stretching with her arms raised up above her head, followed by a small yawn that escaped her heart-shaped lips.

Her braided ponytail swayed as she got her stretch out and smiled as they settled on Carmy. Carmy was still at a lost of words at the woman who stepped forward to place her hands on the opposite counter. The elegance in her steps and the fitted white attire that brought out her melanin made Carmy lick his bottom lip.

How could he forget her?

His girlfriend.

Carmy’s got used to coming home to a empty apartment and couldn’t find enjoyment in that. He didn’t share this space with anyone and was barely inside of it himself. It was just a place that held things he gained over his years of life but no longer felt a connection to?

“What do you have there, Mr. Berzatto?” A playful glint was written in her dark eyes as she leaned against the counter.

Not leaving much to the imagination but Carmy certainly wasn’t complaining.

“Uh, mistletoe?”

“I think I’m owed a kiss then.”

Carmy’s face lifted with small smile lines in his cheeks as he made his way over to the woman who turned to him, ready. Her bare arms locked across his shoulders, intertwining behind his head as he peered into her eyes and breathed in her warm scent of: fresh roasted marshmallows, violets, and plums.

A kiss followed next, with Carmy’s cold tatted fingers resting dangerously low on her spine.

“Welcome home,” She breathed once they broke apart, making Carmy’s heart began to drum.

He’s not sure he’s ever felt like this before, not towards anyone. Especially when he didn’t have many long-lasting girlfriends in his life. It was never a priority or interest for him, especially once he went away to school. Sure he had a few one-night stands in culinary school and ghosted a few others that showed interest in him before but they never equated to this feeling right here.

Fuzzy yet comfortable tossed into a box with a pretty red ribbon on top. Is this what home looks like? Carmy found himself caressing the fullness of her round face to make sure that she was real and that he wasn’t dreaming again. It took him mere seconds to realize that it wasn’t, since the dreams he had were never this serene.

“It’s good to have you here,” Carmy said bringing her into his chest, not caring if she heard how loud his heart was beating with her in his arms, “were you waiting up all this time for me?”

He felt her hand caress his back, squeezing herself as close as possible to his frame, “mmm I don’t know how long really. I went out with the girls and ran into three of my co-workers at the club. They also took a trip up here? Surprisingly it didn’t mess the vibe up too much but I actually got tired of the club scene really quick and knew I rather spend my time here.”

Carmy believed that.

He knew the stories of how she spent her early twenties modeling internationally to get through college. She often told Carmy that the American clubs had nothing on the ones overseas and Carmy took her word for it. He didn’t have much free-time when it came to the culinary arts and even when he did, he stuck to bars. That was more his speed than anything.

“Did you sleep here?” Carmy further quizzed, his round eyes met the famous chocolate Sherpa blanket tossed to the side on his couch and the boots leaned over on the floor, “Ah shit, you should have called me, I would have been here a lot sooner.”

He couldn’t predict that but it was nice that he said it. From the outside point of view, the relationship didn’t make much sense to those that knew about Carmy’s relationship. He was the owner of a growing business, so time was always limited and she was still a part-time model and teacher’s aide…in Philadelphia.

It’s only been a couple of months since Carmy got into this relationship and long-distance was certainly a thing but it worked for them; that’s all that really mattered.

“It’s fine, Carm-Parm,” she leaned back to look into his blues, “I wanted to make you a holiday dinner, but I forgot I can’t cook.”

Carmy dipped his head, “so that’s what that was back there on the stove?”

“Oh no, that’s the final result.” She informed the man, “it was much worse before that. I even sent texts to Sugar for input and got no response but I know she read it. Then after getting my dad involved, he immediately called me to tell me that I am a embarrassment to our Sudanese culture.”

Carmy winced at that as she twisted her lips around before sighing as he replied, “that’s fucked up, you think he meant it?”

“Well of course! The first time he put me in the kitchen with my aunties, we were making Ful Medames—it’s almost like a bean dip. My job was to take care of the most important part, the beans! After they’ve been soaked over night you’re supposed to mash them…I got glass all in the beans and burned the boiled eggs.” She informed Carmy who awkwardly used one hand to scratch at the back of his head.

There were plenty of times that she offered to grab Carmy something, even if she was off in another state and now he understood why. However he was sure there had to be something out there that his girlfriend could make.

“Let’s try that pie then,” Carmy decided, watching as the dark skinned woman perked up at that.

It was after midnight and a midnight snack never hurt nobody—

Says the man with the messed up stomach.

She led him back into the kitchen, leaving him to do the honors as she pulled out the bowl of most-likely spiked eggnog to set on the counter closest to the stove. Carmy grabbed a paper plate, a knife, and began slicing himself a piece of pie to place into the microwave.

Gracefully she moved around Carmen in the kitchen for glasses, then she scooped the egg nog into two cups while they waited for the sweet potato pie.

“Cheers!” She bounced on her toes, tapping the goblet glass against her boyfriend’s before taking a large gulp.

The part about being a cook is that you have to make good judgment calls and be open to trying new things.

So Carmy sipped just in time the microwave signaled that the pie was ready, “I can see that your mission with this nog is to get completely fucked up.”

She laughed and sent a wink the man’s way who blew air from his mouth as the rum shook his insides. Placing the glass to the side, Carmy yanked the microwave open and peered at the pie. The color was always beautiful to look at as he placed the plate onto the counter and thanked the woman beside him who held out a fork.

Leaning against the counter, Carmy inhaled the dessert and pressed his fork down into it. The crust immediately crumbled like sand underneath the pressure but he kept going until he got enough onto the fork.

Here goes nothing.

He took his time savoring the multiple flavors he was picking up on this pie. Personally he didn’t care for pies much but again, he was open. The pie was so sweet yet he could taste a small hint of tartness, possibly orange juice? He wasn’t sure if that was a common thing for these pies or not but it wasn’t horrible flavor wise, just a tad too sweet for his liking.

“Be real with me, Chef.”

“Presentation could be better,” Carmy started in which the woman nodded her head in agreement, “but it’s not bad. Just a little too sweet…what kind of sugar did you use?”

“Dark brown sugar and granulated sugar to have some balance in there.”

“Okay, I see where you were going with that,” Carmy wiped at his lips holding his hands up for a high-five, their hands interlocking, “next time you might want to use less measurements.”

“Measurements?” She titled her head to the side, “a real chef doesn’t use measurements, they eye it.”

Sure if the dish turns out to be a winner and you remember the measurements exactly without it being on paper, have at it.

She took Carmen’s silence as a response, making her pout slightly before she rolled that off her shoulders. Carmy laughed, holding his arms out to pull the woman back into his embrace, his lips pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“I liked the eggnog.” Carmy whispered, making her scoff.

Her hands went to rub at his back again, before lifting her head to place a open-mouthed kiss to his neck. Carmy almost crumbled just like her pie crust back there, feeling his arms tighten around her in that moment.

“Have you eaten, Carmy?”

That was usually his question for her…but he found himself thinking about it.

“Yeah…much earlier with the crew.”

She hummed as she stepped back, her hand holding onto Carmy’s much cooler one.

“Did I forget to mention that you look…stunning in that outfit tonight?” Carmy said, analyzing the corset, pearl studded mini skirt, and her long legs.

She made him spin her underneath his arm just to rest with her back against his front.

He needed to be closer. Much closer.

“Why, Thank you, chef.” Her voice was sultry as she spoke, “why don’t you see if you can enjoy the holiday dinner underneath it instead?”

That was all the invitation Carmen needed. He was quick unraveling his arm from around her frame just to spin her back around to face him. He preferred being face to face with his girl and she knew that, letting out a squeal as his hands went to her ass, lifting her up and against his hips.

Her hands gripped his jaw as he looked up at her, his eyes darkening like snowfall hitting the night pavement, awaiting her sweet mouth again but knew she would be teasing after his food review. However that didn’t stop him from leading the way back to his bedroom, thrilled to get those stockings off and be reminded why she might be his new favorite holiday.

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Continue along with my December anthology prompts here.

[choppedcowboydinosaur]

Here is my view/retrospective on the legacy of emo rock/pop punk bands I listened to growing up. Also, some bands that aren't emo/pop punk but I still like.

All American Rejects: I always thought they were the rivals to Green Day, but their legacy isn't as big as the other bands in pop culture at the time. Their legacy on Bionicle for Toa Inika commercials is good. Shame they aren't as big in retrospect since I like their songs a s a kid and as an adult.

Green Day: They had a massive Pop culture impact. They peaked with the American Idiot album. A lot of their early stuff is good. Their early albums in the 90's capture this sense of malaise, angst and edginess while occasionally having funny songs. American Idiot is probably their strongest album and the most political one since it's against the Bush Administration, the Iraq War and all the shit the neocons were doing at the time. It was very energetic, intense and introspective. While 21st Century Breakdown feels like the leftovers of American Idiot. It still has the same style as American Idiot but is not as intense. 21st Century Breakdown felt more resigned than American Idiot. Like the fight was fading from them. I still like 21st Century Breakdown nonetheless. The most recent song I heard was that one where they are making fun of mass shooters called Mommy's Little Psycho. It's a decent song in its own right and the subject matter is a good satire. But in terms of the energy, it felt lacking compared to their older stuff. It feels kind of worn out. If that's how that song was, I'm guessing the rest of the album it came from must be the same unfortunately.

Politically, they are the definition of being fake rebels especially Billy Joe Armstrong. He acts like an edgy anarchist but is more of a basic bitch liberal. Kind of a shame tbh since their live shows seem fun. He never criticized Obama's foreign policy and surveillance state despite building off what Bush did. That always bugged me since he was one of the most vocal anti-Bush rockers during that time period. I've noticed this since middle school when comparing them to other pop punk bands at the time like Rise Against which was more radical. Mind you my middle school years was during George W. Bush's 2nd term where everyone was bitching about him. Sorry to bitch about politics folks it ends here. Overall, they do have good music with their older songs, but they aren't as edgy as they make themselves out to be.

My Chemical Romance: These guys also had a big impact on pop culture and Gerard Way leveraged it for his comic book writing career. When I was growing up, I thought of them as THE EMO ROCK BAND growing up. Their early stuff is surprisingly raw and kind of hardcore. Their later stuff is still good but doesn't have the same edge as their first album. The first album is more politically driven because of Gerard Way's trauma to 9/11 and it's aftermath. But it's integrated as more of this darker feeling rather than being explicit like Green Day was. I still like them.

Blink 182: They surprisingly had a big effect on other pop punk bands. Looking back, it feels like a lot of smaller bands at the time were imitating them like MxPx, Sum 41 and Anarbor. A lot of those bands felt like they were copying that fun feel Blink 182 has. They were always more light fun rather than being edgy or political. But that's fine since they were good at it. They basically were the band that were reflective of young boys in the 2000's. Fun, crass but not that edgy but still entertaining, nonetheless.

Jimmy Eats world: I don't know if they left a massive legacy but i like some of their songs. They can go surprisingly hard with songs like Disintegration.

Fall Out Boy: I don't know if they influenced other bands but I do like a lot of their earlier stuff. Mainly the stuff from the early 2000's. Their early 2010's albums like Save Rock and Roll and American Beauty are ok. I have a particular soft spot for the song What a Catch Donnie. It just speaks to me.

Panic at the Disco: I always felt they were meant to be rivals to MCR. I do enjoy the earlier stuff. Though the later stuff is just Brendan Urie doing his own thing which is still decent, and you can see how he evolves. I always thought Panic at the Disco was the whole band not just a Brendan Urie vehicle. I always thought bands just focused on staying together rather than splitting apart to do their own thing. Turns out that's actually pretty common in bands. I guess a lot of those rock band movies I watched as a kid were misleading. Really love that Green Gentleman song. It's probably my favorite song of theirs.

Red hot chili peppers: They're not pop punk but I still like their music. They're fun and interesting to listen to even to this day. I'm not sure what sub-genre they fall under buy I guess they fit into the alt-rock umbrella, I guess. Many of their songs still hold up and have a good variety to them. Some are intense, some are more introspective, and some have this sort of laid-back feel to them. I think that variety is why I like them.

Foo Fighters: I've grown to appreciate them over the years. Since I did not listen to them as a kid but rather as a teenager. Which is funny since they are probably older than most of the bands listed here so I guess I got into them kind of late. Once again, they're not pop punk but still good. I've listened to them from the mid 2000's to my high school years. I've gradually listened to more of their songs, and they hold up really well.

The Offspring: I've grown to appreciate them over the years. Since I only listened to a few of their songs growing up (mainly the Crazy Taxi theme song) but as an adult have listened to more of them. Basically, they are what Green Day wishes it was politically. They're left wing but they feel more legit somehow. Like they're more sincere and have more of an edge to them. They're not anarchist but more legit. I guess they incorporate it more naturally rather than having to put up a front. Also, they have lots of funny songs too. So, it's a good balance.

Atari's: I discovered them some years ago. Shame I never listened to them beforehand. They are fairly good. Not the greatest but worth listening to some of their songs. The acoustic version of Looking Back on Today is really good. Better than the electric guitar version. The acoustic one feels more soulful.

Anarbor: I learned of them through Cartoon Network as a kid. I enjoyed them when I was younger. They didn't stand out too much and were kind of reflective of the bands of that time period. They were still enjoyable, nonetheless.

Reel Big Fish: They are ska not pop punk, but I love their music. They are very funny as hell. I put them here as an honorable mention. They are not just funny but very entertaining in their own right.

Sum 41: I heard a few of their songs like Fat lip growing up. They are another one of those bands that in retrospect are reflective of the time they were made in. They're entertaining but don't stand out too much or change the genre.

The main thing I remember them from is We're all to blame from Godzilla Final Wars. 10-year-old me loved that and it goes harder than a Sum 41 song has any right to. it also spawned tons of Godzilla AMV's in the late 2000's on YouTube. I still love it to this day.

Those are my views on 2000's emo rock bands, pop punk bands and other bands of that time. There is a tinge of nostalgia to this, but I also tried to be more analytical. It's kind of hard not to be nostalgic about this since I pretty much grew up with these bands as a kid. But I hope I did a good job, nonetheless. Hope you enjoyed reading this!

[scummy-writes]

I'm going to make this a separate post itself so its not one honkin huge thing attached to the poll when I reblog it.

Regarding Vic's health primarily (he's mainly okay from what we know atm) and comm money in general

I referenced this but cavaliers can have a lot of neurological issues. Apparently this stems from their skulls being too small for their brains often?

I took him to the vet on 10/19 because he was having an issue with what I thought was his ear. What has been happening, since the day I got him back in june, is that he would occasionally scratch at his left ear and start yelping a lot. The place i got him at checked it and said he was fine, the vet I took him to just a couple of days after also checked it and said he was fine. They said that it was likely an anxious thing, so it was dismissed.

And to be blunt, for a while, he only had that yelping scratch occasionally. But within the past monthish it started getting more frequent. And then when it hit too often (4-7 times a week), I called the vet after the first long run of it happening persistently and got an appt a week later. I got worried he had an ear infection even though he was showing no actual signs of an infection of any sort.

And they did the full gambit of an exam, even cleaned his ears, and verified again: no ear infection. No seeming issue with the ear itself. But, she explained she noticed he had a weird gait, which she later called a hypermetric gait, and said shes very worried he has ataxia and/or some issue with his cerebellum. She immediately worked on a referral and told me the neurologist is likely going to want an MRI and to expect it, and that I needed to get him checked out Soon as she was worried the ear thing would get worse. Which. When I explained again how often it was occurring, she seemed more concerned and ran to get pain meds for Vic.

Neurologist was closed friday, so I spent the whole weekend googling what I could. Ataxia is not a illness, but its a symptom. I have no idea of what, and thats what I gotta get checked out. Googling it was uhhhhh. Not fun. Google scared me with talking about how bad cases of conditions that ataxia is connected to usually require the pet to be put down.

Looking on reddit made me feel a bit better. Specifically cavalier talk reddit. Sometimes this thing leads to surgery, but it also seems very likely that (in a good case scenario), Vic may just have a life of pain management. Hopefully minimal pain!!!!

The neurologist called me today and scheduled an appt for nov 2nd. Apparently its an exam and, if needed, MRI same day. Exam is $180 (wheeze), and an MRI can be anywhere between 3k-4k (wheezes louder).

As long as talks with bank go well, if they push for an MRI, I'm going to do it. Even if the diagnosis is that Vic is just a silly lil dude with anxiety, it'll be worth it, you know? For the peace of mind, to know there isn't anything scary with his noggin.

The MRI can be rescheduled, so that will be my next option if bank talk does not go well, but. Thats the info I got. Please keep in mind what the vet said verses what I googled, as google is not a vet.

When it comes to commissions, the funds will likely not go to this. This is why:

Every time I get paychecks, I look on my Bill Schedule and deduct all the stuff that will be coming out that paycheck and work with whatever is leftover. Usually thats not a crazy amount left. If I succeed with regular comms, the money would be going towards any bills I may be struggling with that paycheck/month, or small things to help like. Yaknow. Live outside of bills. Like money towards a cheap haircut. Some energy drinks that week. Getting a couple of extra things when grocery shopping instead of what I count as absolutely needed only.

I wanna be transparent, so I am. It'd likely go towards treats for me to make living not unbearable. That is that. It wouodnt be going towards Me commissioning others, though I will be transparent Still and state I did pay for a small comm before vet visit and so if yall see that, that was smth i paid for already.

[caramariafilm]

The Man Who Fell in Love with the Sky - Production Design

29th March - FILMING DAY TWO

For the second day of filming we were at Carlowrie Castle, with the intention of filming the second scene - walking scene featuring white swirls - and doing some pickups for the first scene that we were unable to get yesterday (close ups).

The first shot was a dolly with the swirls coming into frame. So everyone knew this was going to take the longest. I believe this was the most amount of takes we did over the shoot, reshooting it around 8 or 9 times. 

There were obviously a lot of elements going on and especially with the dolly being on uneven terrain but we got some really beautiful shots here.

In terms of the production design, mine and Saskia’s main focus were with the pulley system we had going on for the swirls. As I explained when making the white swirls, we used two C stands with the leftover string on either side, Saskia and I pulling and letting go of the string as see fit. It was windy this day so there were a couple times the wind would just blow the swirls around, however it actually worked really really well.

I was most nervous about this practical effect I’d say just because I knew the shot was already pretty difficult. Saskia gave ourselves lots of time to pracitce while everyone was setting up so this definitely helped a lot.

After we got this shot - and it was looking amazing! - the team wanted to move on to a wide which would take place in a field about 20 minutes away. There was no need for practical effects here and I had actually brought the titlecard with me as it got a bit damaged the day before due to the rain. 

I spoke with Ivan and Abbie and we all agreed it would be better if Saskia and I focused on fixing the sign instead of coming along for the wide. 

In case the field was muddy, I gave the actor playing Arthur some shoe covers so as to not ruin his boots! I kept my phone on so if anyone needed to contact me it would be easy to do so.

Saskia and I then found somewhere to sit and began mending the sign. All of the lettering and cardboard was still intact, it was mainly the tape that had started to lose its stickiness, so we went in and replaced all of that. As well as this, we put in some reinforcmeents for the cardboard jost so certain sections didn’t bend as easy. 

When we finished this, we found we still had a bit of time before the team wrapped so Saskia and I worked on writing some more love letters.

Soon after that the crew were finished with the wide and it was lunch time!

I had brought the titlecard on this day because I knew we were filming the closeups and it was discussed that if we did have time, we could try and do the titlecard shot. 

After lunch, the director and DOP went on a recce to try and scout out locations. This was difficult for the crew as we weren’t sure what to do with this time and didn’t want to waste it. This wasn’t part of the schedule but I believe it was purely down to location issues. 

After some time, they returned! And explained that there weren't any suitable locations for the titlecard sequence on this day. Instead, we were going to focus on the close up shots so we didn’t have to pick them up at a later date.

For the closeups, my job was to de-leaf a small section of the ground behind the actors. This was just so that when we switched back to Braidburn Valley, the audience wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. After I did this with both set ups for Arthur and Lila, they were good to go!

(Look at that de-leafing skill!!)

From this point on the shoot was really asy as these were the only other shots we had to get!

Once we’d wrapped on the filming, Saskia and I spoke to the producer and director about the plan for the following day.

Our schedule was currently looking like; the 30th - first half of the day would be the flashback scene, in the afternoon it would be the pickup of the titlecard shot we couldn’t get on the first day and THEN a skeleton crew for the wing shoot in the evening, the 31st - interior shoot all day.

When I was told this I was really confused and a bit upset, as there was no scheduling time for production design - in regards to bringing all the props (including the wings) by myself via public transport, and no set up or take down time allocated. What was then suggested was for me to go to the flashback scene, skip the titlecard shoot and instead go to the interior location and prep for the following day, then join the skeleton crew, then come in early before the interior shoot and finish set dressing. 

This was a big moment for me in the shoot, as I usually struggle with setting boundaries on set because I want to be the best help possible. However this was too much for me, as travelling times weren’t taken into consideration and they hadn’t scheduled lunch breaks into this either. Also, given the interior location wasn’t sorted out until a couple days before the shoot started and I hadn’t actually been able to see the space, I didn’t feel comfortable having such little time to set up.

Set dressing is what I want to specialise in after university, so I think the reason I was upset was it just wasn’t taken into consideration at all.

We all decided to head home and that way the director, producer, and first AD could figure out an actual plan for the following days, as what they were currently suggesting wasn’t possible.

Home time!

I knew that I was going to be needing my interior design stuff for the following day regardless of what happened, and since ther wasn’t going to be time for someone to come help me transport it sll on the day, myself and someone else went back to my flat that evening and transported it to a location nearer the interior. A lot of this was troubleshooting, I knew it would be the right decision because using public transport to get to where I stay would take an hour either way and there just wasn’t time for that in the schedule. 

This made my day fairly long again but I knew it would really benefit me over the following days. 

I then found out the plan for the next couple days however I will discuss that in my next post as I’ve gone on a bit here!

[lpfreakification]

Rambling until I fall asleep or get up again

After I had my bloated episode last night, it was hard to fall back to sleep. I did wake up easily but I couldn't get up. It felt like I didn't rest well last night X(

Wisconsin wasnt too bad. I was doing another patterny/zentangle/mandela doodle while everyone else was chatting about my brother's recent engagement. I was drawing it in this little bookie I had back in 2017, about 12 days after I got hired in my job :)

I had a few pages of rainbow watercolor already colored + a few circles stenciled in. Then I'd make the patterns from there. It sparked an idea to use whatever leftover watercolor I have on my brush + lay it down on the empty page. Once that page is filled, I can go over it with the patterns :) This will alleviate the sense of guilt for wasting any paint. For the thicker, shinier paints I'd use a 0.7 fine point black Posca pen. For now, its either a Faber-Castell, Sharpie, or Micron. Whichever can get that ink flowing XP

I'd like to go back to sleep but its risky. If I sleep rn, chances are that I'll awake up at an odd hour than my usual time. My best bet is to stay awake a little bit longer. Like another 2 or 3 hours (it's about to be 7 PM here).

Thinking about tomorrow. I have a meeting with a nutritionist. Neve had one b4 + idk how this will go. Well, what I'm hoping to get out of this is when I should be eating. It's either i dont eat at all (bcuz work work work) or I eat everything (a result from work work work). Worse, my diet's mainly takeout X( I cant help it bcuz I work at a pizza joint, theres nothing too good at home (or not to my liking), I have the money + freedom to go wherever for food, + I can't cook. I think I already said my reasons for cooking a couple days ago.

(I hate my siblings for pushing my buttons. Them: "Well u have mommy cooking + cleaning for you." *gets infuriated but trying to calm myself*)

*couple deep breaths later*

I used to have the independence back when I was dorming in college but not have money. Now it's the opposite: I have money but I dont have the independence + I depend on (+ taking advantage of) them.

Other things on my mind:

Why I dont look at the scale

Physical activity for the energy, not for weight loss

Siblings against the (pricey) gym I just joined XP

Hoping the item has traveled safely (it's in NJ rn)

Work makes me feel like a winner + home makes me feel like a loser

The weight on my back + shoulders preventing me from getting up again

Want to continue the patterny doodle

Would like to upload more doodles on IG, despite it being a lot of Dratica doodles

What else I can do as I'm up

What bg noise or video can I put on? (I'm out of Kittisaurus content to watch)

Cuddling with Axel for my heart X3

Feeling super guilty for not animating like I wanted to this month.

That last one's a killer X( I built myself up, only to crumble down. When I'm ready, I'll try again. I'd hate to feel sick of working on SNJ. I really do. There's so much I can still improve upon. Even if it practically means starting all over X( At least it's still 78 frames in 24 fps :) There is a lot to think about in this short of an animation. Overthinking caused me to crumble down. The movement of the hips. Perspective. Use of power centers. Weight. Moving holds. Making the character think with (almost) each step he takes. Making it simpler to begin with but not rough. Rough as in too many lines that will overwhelm me... I should write this paragraph down in my notes.

Welp, I'm up. Imma grab my leftover slice of pepperoni + see how the rest of the night will go. Yep! (It is now 7:31 pm)

[claireunoia]

* ･ ﾟ𖡼 ︎ִֶָ⁀➷

𝘽𝙍𝙀𝘼𝙎𝙏 𝙒𝙊𝙍𝙎𝙃𝙄𝙋 | 𝙨. 𝙘𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙣

「 SYNOPSIS 」 / you’re the most insecure about your chest, sarah proves your doubting thoughts wrong and shows just how beautiful you are to her eyes ♡︎.

「 PAIRINGS 」 / sarah x fem!reader

「 WORD COUNT 」 / 1435 (omg y’all gettin fed again)

「 WARNINGS 」 / ANGST, A BIT OF SMUT, insecurities, self-body image issues, crying, lots of pet names, nipple play, tit sucking, some dirty talking, suggesting to sex in the end, i don’t remember writing any language in here but imma still warn it just in case, prob some typos, thats it?

➪ author’s notes : ❝ hi babes!! welcome to the 4th day of my kinktober !! this fic is kinda something personal for me and something based on my own personal issues i have with myself due to being flat chested but i want to put something out like this so other people out there that deals with this as a insecurity can read this and real validated, thats my mission besides posting for kinktober haha. i hope u guys enjoy this since this is alot more on the softer side and something different then i usually write bc its goin to be a lot of filth going on this month so i felt like switching the mood a bit while still being a bit dirty lmao. as always i love u so much! <333 ❞

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tonight was the obx’s, infamous annual bonfire.

as the skies darkened as time passed it was slowly getting close to that time for you and girlfriend, sarah to be there so you and her were currently getting ready and changed in her bedroom.

“baby! here you should try this on, i just know you’ll look so freakin’ perfect in it” sarah exclaims as she hands you one of her cute, green colored, lacy bralette with a bright smile adoring her face. you smiled a “ok” and took the clothing from her before turning to the tall, long mirror that stood against the wall of her room.

when sarah turned back around in her closet to find something else to give you to wear or for herself, you held the piece of lace material up in front of your eyes. frowning when you saw just how much bigger it was compared to your usual size of your chest due to the fact that your girlfriend’s boobs were way bigger than yours. deciding against the thought of telling sarah and killing her wonderful mood, you tried it on anyway. you removed the previous t-shirt sarah had given you just a couple of minutes ago and your bra. once you did that you took the bralette and started to put it on your body.

when you managed to get it on, you took one little glance at the mirror and didn’t like the image you were receiving back at all. the sight making your stomach swim in insecurity and a new found sadness.

you were always insecure about your breasts. mainly because they were just so much smaller than kie’s or your girlfriend sarah’s. seeing the way bikinis fit on them and seeing the way it fits on you makes you embarrassed, ashamed and spiteful at the way you look. you longed for bigger and fuller boobs, wanting to look good in certain clothes was a dream and be able to fit in simple stuff like a bralette as well.

the bralette itself was so, so cute, but once you put it on your mind changed. since your boobs were so small, it just barely fit into the cups of the top where your boobs were supposed to go, making the now loose, leftover fabric to just hang a bit in a little wrinkled bunch around that area.

“s… sarah, i think you should just wear this one” you called out in a whisper, making sure to add a forced chuckle at the end so you sound normal and not like you were about to cry a river.

you heard sarah whine a bit from the closet.

“why? i got it like so long ago so it shouldn’t be too big on- oh my gosh, y/n what’s wrong!” sarah interrupted her sentence in a shock gasp when she met your glistening eyes and slouch figure through the mirror when she walked away from her closet. immediately walking up to you in concern at the sight of your clearly upset expression.

you shake your head at the blonde girl, looking back at the mirror with a sigh before you drop your head down again.

“it doesn’t exactly look so good on me s’all” you forcefully chuckled, not wanting to tell her about how you’ve been feeling about yourself for quite a long time so u tried to cover up your emotions, which is something your currently failing at by the saddening, concerning look on your lovers face deepening anymore.

“babe, what’s really wrong?” sarah asked you, her hands coming up to grip the sides of your face into her palms softly. petting your hair as she looked over your face which was going through so many emotions at once.

“i- i, i hate how my chest looks. i hate it so much, sarah. every single time i look in the mirror just even wearing a simple shirt i want to cry at how flat it is”

“oh, baby…” sarah whispers sadly, her eyes tearing up at the way you describe yourself. a big part of her feels guilty about this, how come she could never see her own girlfriend going through such a struggle about her own body? she thinks over and over again before pulling you into a bone crushing, comforting embrace.

her arms holding you so tight.

“my love, how come you never told me you felt this way about yourself”

and that pushed you over the edge. finally letting out the couple of tears you’ve been holding in since you first had put on the bralette. with a small teary hiccup you responded back to her question.

“i didn’t want you to think of me differently” you cried silently, sarah giving you one last tight squeeze before pulling away from you. “y/n, i would never look at you differently okay?” not receiving an answer she called out again once more.

“okay?”

you nod at her, her fingers coming up to rub away your tears that fell down your cheeks and from up under your eyes.

“y/n, i can't even begin to explain just how gorgeous and beautiful you are. you’re down right so incredibly gorgeous okay? i love every single inch of you and your body so much, baby. flaws and all, okay? and who cares if your boobs are small love? small, big, everyone is different and is born differently and that absolutely doesn't mean it's a bad thing or something to hate. and plus i absolutely adore your boobs. they’re amazing and you’re amazing. please stop tearing yourself down like this, sweets. it hurts me so much to see you hating something so much about yourself when nothing is wrong with you in the beginning. i know no one is perfect but i know for sure that you are, i love you so much baby”

at her little speech, you cried and practically threw yourself at your girlfriend. hugging her like it was the last time you would ever be able to do it. “t-thank you so much, baby” you were speechless but you managed to get the words out profusely against the skin of her neck.

“you don’t have to thank me, babe” sarah cried with as well with a little teary giggle escaping her.

sarah pulled away from you to intently stare into your eyes, her soft hands then coming up to the lacy bralette to take it up and off of you. you let her but not without timidly asking her why she was taking it off of you.

“b-babe, what are you doing?”

“showing you just how beautiful you are to me, y/n” sarah replies with her pretty, bunny smile on display as she tossed the piece of clothing somewhere in the room before making direct contact with your exposed breast, holding the soft flesh of the mounds in her warm palms. you gasp softly in surprise of the sudden, so good feeling of sarah’s hands delicately massaging your breasts.

“such pretty breasts,” sarah states with a sincere look on her face, pressing a gentle kiss at your lips before bending down to take your nipple into her mouth. her other finger tracing the unattended bud, not wanting to leave anything out.

“b-baby” you whimpered, moving a strand of hair away and out of your face so you could look down at sarah latched and sucking at your nipple passionately, to already find her looking up at you with desire, so so much love swimming in her brown irises.

she pulled away from your nipple with a loud pop.

“such pretty nipples,” sarah whispers, eyes flickering up to yours after the words left her lips. finding your face scrunched up in pleasure, “gosh, you just look so frickin’ perfect” sarah thinks to herself.

without another word sarah takes your unattended breast into her mouth. her hand gently grasping the mound of flesh while she sucks at your areolas. her tongue running over your hardened bud while she did so. a little hum leaving her lips when she hears you moan out again and again at the feeling.

sarah once more pulls away from you with a even louder pop than earlier echoing and surrounding her bedroom along with your little whines and keens. sarah backs away from you and stares at how her spit made the skin of your chest glistened, her teeth pulling in her bottom lip as she rubbed and toyed at your sensitive, hard buds.

“lay down pretty girl, we’re missing the bonfire this time.”

⚘ ˏ`୭̥*ೃ *ૢ✧ ⚘ ˏ`୭̥*ೃ *ૢ✧ ⚘ ˏ`୭̥*ೃ *ૢ✧ ⚘ ˏ`୭̥*ೃ *ૢ✧

kinktober taglist 🏷/if ur tag isn’t working pls check ur visibility settings : @izzy--b @justagirlinherownworld @jupiterstearx @dariaclare3 @Poems0417 @macklynn0529 @Passmesomecookies @kayleiggh @mommyworldwide @kellykhumz345-blog @flowerkidlxrry @starkey-patterson @mynameberose @daareallgirl @maddiesweet @weirdooooo2325 @Heyjelle29 @enmywinningengineer @teenwolfbitches28 @lore-lover @angel4you @misterdav @oxyparker @tomisfuckinghot @no-and-no-and-no @lilostif16 @keyanasstuff @midnightzonzz @peachesbadussy @tokyocupid @maybankprincess @artemishunter18 @obsessedxx @noshamecatluver @Nano2010 @jjmaybanksbitch @meetmyblondemuffins @itsmentalillness @remuslupinsmoon @i-love-scott-mccall

[space-mermaid-writing]

Like a novela [Bruno Madrigal X Reader] - Chapter 3

Summary:You deliver all kinds of fruits from your mother's garden to the people of the village. You meet Bruno at the Madrigal's house and after that it's a tale to tell. Life is not like a telenovela. But sometimes it sure feels like one.

Tags: Romance, Mediocre Slow Burn, Age Difference, Fluff, Telenovela Elements, Bruno Madrigal Needs a Hug, Post-Movie

Read it on AO3

Chapter 1

Chapter‘s note: At lot of feels and some background story of the reader in this chapter. Also, Bruno is one fine man.

Chapter 3: A glimpse into the future

You are sitting in your room working on some sewing - it's mainly old clothes that need to be fixed – when you hear voices downstairs.

It's not your sister, otherwise you'd hear the thumping on the stairs of your nephew Lucas. He always rushes to your room to play with you.

He always says you're his favorite aunt. You're his only aunt though.

You put your book aside and stretch your limbs. Your stomach tells you that it's time to eat a snack, so you decide to go downstairs to see who came to visit.

The voices come from the dining room, but you go to the kitchen first and take some leftovers from lunch.

Then you enter the other room.

"Bruno!" you exclaim when you see him sitting at the table.

Your mother looks up and frowns at this rudeness, but you pay no attention to her. You look at the man, who avoids your gaze and rather looks nervous.

"What happened?" you ask him.

"Señor Madrigal," your mother points out, answering in his place, "came by because he had a vision that concerns us."

Bruno merely nods absently, still careful not to look at you. It's obvious to him that he's uncomfortable delivering the news. He looks at the cut fruit your mother has offered him as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

You notice yourself holding your breath. So far, none of his visions of the future have ever directly affected you.

"What's going to happen?" you want to know.

"A storm will come up," Bruno murmurs. "And lightning will destroy a tree on the plantation."

You blink at him.

"That's good."

Confused, he looks at you.

"Well, not good," you correct yourself. "But if you can tell us which tree it is, we can pick the fruit beforehand and the harvest won't be lost."

"I don't know when it will happen."

"Even better. Maybe it won't be for a few years."

The news really isn't as bad as you expected. Of course, it's inconvenient to lose one of the trees. But you'll plant a new one in its place, you decide.

Bruno seems a little perplexed by your reception. His gaze wanders from you to your mother, who doesn't seem overly upset either. This is rather unusual.

"My daughter is right," she adds. "Do you think you can identify the tree, Senor Madrigal?"

Slowly, he nods.

"Excellent. Then it would be most helpful to do so."

She rises and he stands as well.

"Sure," he murmurs.

"I'll handle it, Mom," you interject. "Rest your legs."

"Fine. But take a basket with you, Y/N. Maybe you can harvest it right away."

"Si, mama."

A few minutes later you're walking across the grass behind the house with Bruno at your side.

"How's Julia been since her twin sister died?" you ask him.

Bruno gives you a sly look.

"She's pregnant. But it's not clear who the father is, because she's already four months in."

"No!"

"Yes, she is! Ricardo is devastated. If it's not his child, he'll seek vengeance. Oh, there, that’s the tree."

He points to a tree standing on the edge of the plantation.

You tilt your head and look at the fruit hanging from it.

"They’re not ripe yet. But maybe we're lucky and the lightning will wait. Did you see in your vision if it was still bearing fruit?"

Bruno shakes his head.

"Unfortunately, no."

"I guess there's nothing we can do, then," you reply, merely shrugging your shoulders. "There's nothing to harvest here yet, but you could help me pick avocados."

You point to another tree hanging full of fruit.

"Gladly, no problem."

He follows you and together you pick the soft avocados and place them in your basket.

"You never asked me for a vision for you," Bruno says after a few minutes of working silently. "Women your age all want to know something about their wedding or future husbands."

You just mumble thoughtful 'Hm'.

For a while, no one says anything.

"Are you afraid that I’ll give you bad news as well?" he then asks quietly.

You frown and look at him.

"No, I think I'd just rather be surprised by what my future holds for me," you reply. "If I knew I was getting married, I might not stop looking around for men. And if I knew I was never getting married, I might completely stop caring. That doesn't mean those are bad lives, but I don't want to let my actions be influenced because of something that's going to happen in the future."

Bruno listens to you silently and merely nods in response to your explanation.

"I'm sorry," you add. "That probably sounds unfair to someone who has constant insight into the future."

"I can't change it. The future I mean. No matter what I tried, it always happened." You hear the pain in Bruno's voice and you realize that there's a lot of weight on his shoulders. Weight that he has to carry involuntarily. "And I've tried many times to alter the future. Especially when I was younger and didn't understand the point of knowing what's going to happen before it happens."

You nod in understanding.

"I guess if I had known my father was going to die so unexpectedly, I would have used my time with him differently. Maybe it would have been good to have a prediction back then," you consider. "Even if it hadn't been good news that you would have given us. But we could have been better prepared for it. Like with the tree now."

"It was an accident, wasn’t it?" Bruno asks, "My sister told me about it."

"Si. My father was trying to fix something on the roof and slipped. It was very unfortunate. Even Julieta was too late to do anything."

Talking about it brings back images into your mind and your throat tightens.

You had been home that day as had your mother, who had sent you immediately to the Madrigals' house. But no one could have run fast enough to make it in time before your father died.

A tear creeps into your eye and you quickly turn away.

But Bruno has already seen it and puts a hand on your shoulder and turns you to face him. To your surprise, he wraps you in his arms in a hug. You bury your face in his ruana and take a deep breath to calm your feelings.

It smells like Bruno: earthy and warm. And you feel a few grains of sand in the fabric rubbing against your skin.

His hug is firm and feels really good.

A little embarrassed, you finally break away from him.

"I'm sorry…it shouldn’t affect me that much anymore," you murmur. "It's worse for my mother. She lost her husband that day."

"Something like that is always bad for everyone involved," Bruno replies, thinking of his own mother and her fate. And his father, whom he had never really known. "Just remember that life goes on."

"Si."

In a silent agreement, you look at each other.

Then you get back to work.

When the basket is full, you make your way back. Bruno says goodbye and you re-enter the house.

Your mother is in the kitchen sorting out some old vegetables to make a salad.

She looks at you as you enter.

"It was nice of Senor Madrigal to come by to tell us," she says, and you nod.

"Si."

You stand next to her and start washing the vegetables.

When he left just now, Bruno seemed pleased to have helped you with his vision. From what you've heard of the people in the village, it's probably a nice change in reaction for him.

"You danced with him at the party the other day. I didn't know you were so familiar with each other," your mother continues, and you perk up.

She continues to work in an nonchalant manner, but something in her voice is suspicious.

"I've danced with a few men," you answer vaguely "And I see Bruno sometimes when I run the deliveries.”

Now she turns to you and looks you in the eye.

"Señor Madrigal is almost twice your age."

It's not accusatory or reproachful. Just a statement of facts.

"I know, Mama."

You suppress a sigh, because sometimes it's easy to forget that factor. When you're with Bruno, when he makes you laugh. But of course, you've thought about that yourself.

"Don't worry about it. I'll be careful," you add.

"I'm your mother, Y/N. I'll always worry about you just a little bit. Even though I know you're all grown up." She gently strokes your cheek. Then she turns back to the vegetables. " Señor Madrigal is a polite man," she admits. "But he's been away a long time, and even his family hasn't always spoken well of him. And the people in the village-"

"Bruno is an honorable man!" you interrupt her more forcefully than you intended. "People don't really know him."

Your mother purses her lips.

"Some have known him longer than you've been in the world. I'm not going to forbid you to meet with him, because you're too old for that. I just don't want you to do anything you'll regret later."

"Si, Mama," you grumble softly, stalling further discussion.

Your mother glances at you and sighs silently, but says nothing further on the subject.

You put the washed vegetables on a towel to dry and then go upstairs to your room.

The argument with your mother upsets you. It's not the fact that you both got loud or disagreed - you know you can still hug her afterward because you love each other.

But it’s the topic.

Bruno.

You’ve tried to ignore it for the longest time. But you can no longer deny that you've developed feelings for him. Romantic feelings.

Just thinking back to the night when you were dancing with him makes your heart flutter wildly in your chest.

Sighing, you stare out the window at two children playing with a tire.

Your mother is right.

Of course she is.

Bruno is old enough to be your father. He would have been a young father, but still.

You don't even know if he returns your feelings. You have no comparison to find out, either.

It's easier with men your age. They ask for a date, give compliments, and express themselves about what they expect. They're loud, but they're clear about their intentions.

Bruno is just there.

He doesn't brag about being particularly big or strong. He doesn't have to.

Rarely he flirts or makes a move. And when he does, it's so natural that it's only noticeable at second glance.

Maybe it's even better if he doesn't feel that way about you.

If it weren't for his looks.

You catch him looking at you too often for it to mean nothing.

Or does it?

You feel his eyes on you. Those green eyes that could never tell you a lie.

With another deep sigh, you turn away from the window.

One day you'd try to figure out what he thinks about you. But until then, you’ll just enjoy his company as often as you can.

It hurts, but not as much as being rejected.

_____________________________________

I'm starting a tag list for this one. If you wanna be added: DM me, write it into the notes or send a rat messenger (be careful, I've got cats...)

Tag List: @could-be-gayer21, @jessicarosequinzelfleck

[clownspiral]

my michael headcanons!

- michael shelley wears glasses, michael distortion does not 

- michael shelley is trans 

- michael shelley has a tooth gap! freckles too! 

- he commonly gets nicknamed mikey by his peers 

- michael shelley dots his i’s with hearts & just generally doodles a lot on things 

- michael shelley’s wardrobe consists mainly of sweaters, & he wears pink eyeshadow & nail polish 90% of the time. he’ll also often wear flowers in his hair, as well as earrings & other kinds of jewelry 

- michael shelley loves singing 

- michael shelley is a painter but mainly keeps it to himself 

- michael shelley keeps many houseplants 

- michael shelley is kinda a stickler for the rules & comes across as lowkey bossey at times, but he’s too sweet to ever say anything Genuinely rude (even in situations where he definitely Should) 

- michael shelley had a LOT of pets (snails, dogs, lizards - you name it) & continues to care for them as michael distortion (though they do not recognize who he is...) until they all pass on naturally 

- michael shelley often cat-sits for gertrude’s Several cats (she always chooses him cuz he’s the only assistant who will do it 100% free) 

- michael distortion has dark blue blood 

- michael distortion smells like honey 

- michael distortion cannot be killed through Bodily Harm but it dislikes being hurt nonetheless 

- michael distortion’s skin is ice cold to the touch & is much paler than michael shelley’s was 

- michael distortion changes colors based on its mood (YOU figure out what this means!) 

- michael distortion’s hair moves to emote with it 

- michael distortion moves silently & enjoys sneaking up on its human friends, especially martin blackwood 

- michael distortion is worried at first that the new archivist is going to do the same thing to his assistants as gertrude did. it is especially worried for the well-being of martin in the earlier phase of his employment under jon’s supervision 

- michael distortion Hates elias/jonah and avoids him at all costs 

- elias cannot See the distortion & is unable to read its mind 

- michael distortion invites the leftover spiral avatars into its hallways to hang out 

- michael distortion transports its human friends (the ones trusting enough to step through the door) to the places they would like to visit 

- michael distortion cooks & bakes for its human friends & absolutely does not pay for a single ingredient it uses 

- michael distortion purrs, chirps, growls, etc. 

- michael distortion sits in unconventional positions 

- michael distortion has a LOT of teeth 

- michael distortion is very good at singing & whistling 

- michael distortion enjoys gardens & flowers 

- michael distortion cannot sleep but often feigns it (in other words, dresses up in pajamas and lays still with its eyes closed for several hours on end) 

- michael distortion’s stomach cannot digest human food so it only Pretends to eat and doesn’t actually ever swallow 

- michael distortion can (AND WILL) float at will 

- post-spiral michael has no choice but to work at the archives since he was already marked by the eye during his pre-spiral years. he considers blinding himself but has no one to take care of him if he does, so he’s forced to become jon’s assistant (much to both men’s dismay) 

- elias changes some of the institute’s doors to yellow ones just to screw with post-spiral michael. everyone agrees that this is a Huge Dick Move 

- post-spiral michael straightens (& eventually cuts) his hair in an effort to look less like the distortion 

- post-spiral michael wears contact lenses cuz glasses remind him of his old self. he also changes up his fashion a lot & asks to not be called mikey, his old nickname 

- post-spiral michael avoids mirrors & doors, and he ALWAYS carries keys to each door of his home right around his neck 

- post-spiral michael has sensory issues & gets overloaded easily 

- post-spiral michael has horrible night terrors & panic attacks 

- post-spiral michael cannot STAND being lied to, including little white lies 

- post-spiral michael would find post-spiral helen to be the easiest to trust & would have a natural bond with her right off the bat. however he refuses to trust Anyone as completely as he trusted Gertrude before the spiral 

- post-spiral michael would be quite afraid of post-spiral helen leaving him & would follow her around a lot to make sure she isn’t going to disappear 

- post-spiral michael is touched by the lonely but has too much of a deep hatred for peter lukas (whom boated him directly to his death) to fall all the way into it 

- post-spiral michael is Mean at first, as in he’s got some serious anger issues, but he starts to soften up over time (with the Help of therapy, which was strongly advised by martin, who actually sees the same therapist michael ends up seeing) 

- post-spiral michael highkey blames himself for what happened to him and resents his past self. he only starts to really move on from everything when he finally begins to forgive himself for being tricked & accepts that not everyone is going to be the same as gertrude 

- it takes the Longest for post-spiral michael to warm up to the archivist (who he starts calling “Jon” after a while) but. he’s trying. he has a lot to re-learn about Being Human & has some really deep injuries to heal, but the people around him are being kindly patient with him & eventually? he’s going to be okay. he’s not going to be the Same as he was before, not ever, but he’s going to find a New Version of okay. <3  

[monkeyparasite]

Hey my good pal ! It would make me really happy if you made headcannons of the Gorillaz members + Ace about how they would interract with a S/O who's autistic and do stimming a lot, because i'm autistic myself and i do stimming A LOT. If you don't want to do this with all members, i understand, but if you could do it with at least Noodle, 2D and Ace, it would be cool !

Awhh of course! Anything for my buddies! :D

i might actually also need this holy fuck hfgsgsh-

Murdoc

Lightly pokes fun of your hyperfixation(s) unless its something he is also interested in! But will throw hands with anyone else that does that

But after 2D got onto him, explaining why thats EXTREMELY wrong and disrespectful (poking fun of your hyperfixations), he apologized profusely and sobbed into his pillow calling you while also eating it being like "I-Im SZO ZSORreERrYy!!! PLLLalpl3aEAsE DioNt LeBaevebM MeeeeEEee!!! WAHHAAHGAGc YoYOU CaNN TalTALk ABoUT AnYAnYTHING yOUyoU WANT!!!"

Anyways. Isn't all that informed but says he is. He just gets his information from 2D cause he knows he has ADHD(?).

When he first saw you stimming, just went "oh, yeah, thats cute. 2D wtf are they doing? Did i do something wrong?" After having to be explained what stimming is, Murdoc fell down a rabbit hole of stim toys while looking online because 2D suggested to learn more about Autism online

Next thing you know, you meet up with him, and he gives you a stim toy and continues on the meetup or date like its normal. Then its its something that's your hyperfixation(s). Then its both. Then its just himself with a bow on his head

Understands and sympathizes with you when your overwhelmed, offers to take you somewhere else. Does his best to help out, really!

OMNE MORE 4 HIM I SWEAR!! He tried to cosplay Scott Pilgrim but failed horribly, still went to go see you though!

Ace

I have no idea what this man gots going on with him but I know it's something funky, I swear! /post /aff

I also like to imagine when you told him that he was like "Bada-boom-bada-bang baby!" And just had Noodle get him a library book about autism because he is literally banned from his town's library (again)

the next day mfer was telling you facts about Scott Pilgrim to try and swoon you plus buys you merch of it and always does the fuck boy face after he gives you em

Calls your stimming "jazzy". Probably offers you his knife to stim with, just says to be careful because he doesn't want you or it hurt

Will stab anyone that overwhelms you. Idk man he's a lil uh, funky, I think

2D

This man has ADHD, i think(?) idk, but im pretty sure he's neurodivergent! Anyway, because of this, he understands incrediblely well!

Sometimes, when you stim, he joins in. He can't really help it and its not a bad thing either, really! It's just.. whenever he sees someone else stimming or hears a funky noise, he stims (yes, i do this, yes im self-inserting or whatever the word is, and yes i will stop if anyone wants me to!)

He actually enjoys hearing about your hyperfixation(s) too! But, he might space out or dissociate randomly, so just a fair warning, if he doesn't remember some of the details. He is also forgetful on top of that, so you might have to refresh his memory on that stuff

Might also develop the same hyperfixation as you because the way you make it sound so cool and interesting, and correct me if im wrong, but isnt it Scott Pilgrim vs the world? I think he would be way into that ngl, same with Murdoc, maybe?

Gets you matching stim toys because he thinks its cute, but he never uses his unfortunately, mainly because he lost it in one of his pants pockets as well as his leftover lint balls

Tries not to overwhelm you and plan dates that fit your schedule, while he does have a bad habit of wandering off or staying too close to you, at least he occasionally remembers to either: look behind him OR ask you if he needs to move a bit

Russel

Surprisingly is very well informed! Offers to get you stim toys and take you to the movies if they're playing it

Very chill and understanding about it overall tbh, just a thoughtful kind guy!

If you ever need him to, he will lay on you like a weighted blanket

Just smiles at you when you stim and pats you on the head,

Offers to show you cat videos when your overwhelmed that helps him

I cant think of any more headcanons for him, I am so sorry

Noodle

Extremely supportive and interested in your hyperfixation

Understands when you stim and even tries to help you or change things for you incase you need to

Has offered to beat up anyone that makes fun of your stimming, definitely will

Also very supportive! Uplifts you a lot

I also have no ideas for her either, all I know is she is just.. so supportive and protective of you

[sinisterlibrary]

Hello! As one of our first posts to this blog we have decided to make a story, with multiple chapters. There isn’t a title to this yet so if you have any ideas feel free to let us know!

DISCLAIMER!! This story is very heavily based off of Fnaf Security breach mainly just adding some new characters and bring back old ones, and having a completely different characters POV. There are stories to be told and unfolded. So I hope you enjoy this story that was once my own head canon turned into a full blown story from the two of us.

Theme: Fan fiction Fnaf Security breach.

Trigger warnings: none

Word count: 3053

Chapter One

Keep Him in The Underground

The time is 9:30pm, the Mega Pizza Plex is beginning to close for the night, families walk towards the exit stopping in the small gift shops on their way out. Glamrock Freddy, Chica, Roxanne, and Monty stand near the exit waving to everyone leaving. A theme plays over the Pizza Plex children seem happy even humming and singing along to the tune. "See you later superstars!" Freddy says to a group of children. The story begins when the Pizza Plex has closed its doors and Freddy is taking his usual place in his Greenroom.

Freddy has begun to sing his song, written for him to sing on stage.

Whilst the main four had said their nightly goodbye's to the children who come and go a few other animatronics stay behind to clean their areas. Bonnie tapped his foot to the soft music playing in Bonnie bowling. He was disappointed he wouldn't lie, bowling? Instead of keeping him as the bassist? And.. on top of that having Monty replace him. He didn't hold it against him though.. Maybe this change could be good. He continued to clean the tables, picking up food wrappers, leftover candies and large cups with their drinks barely touched. He let out a gentle huff and looked up to the picture of him and Freddy on the wall near the exit of his area. Maybe saying hello wouldn't be so bad. He hasn't spoken to him since the band "split up" The purple bunny knew exactly where to go. He set his supplies away and made his way out of bonnie bowling. The security guard for the night was alright with letting the animatronics roam, so he didn't have to sneak around this time of night. Bonnie's light footsteps roamed the halls of the large pizza plex, finally making his way to the dressing rooms where he once stood displayed and excited to play on stage, seeing the joyful faces of children and adults. He shook his head, the sound of bolts and wiring filling his head. He let his eyes dart from name to name.. but stopping at a particular name. Monty. The gator had surprisingly been staring at him for what seemed to be forever.. it unsettled the bunny to say the least but he only waved, hoping to give a good impression. He quickly made his way to Freddy's dressing room door and looked at the camera. "Hey old friend, miss me any..?" He let out a soft chuckle and awkwardly looked to the ground. The sound of things being moved and light footsteps could be heard from inside the room. "Freddy?" The door cracked open and Freddy poked his head out. Bonnie.. ? Hello.. wow this is a surprise..” he spoke, noticing the bunny. .” Did- did you miss me?" Freddy askes, slight humor to his tone. "God is that even a question" Bonnie laughed slightly and rubbed the back of his neck, he let his eyes flicker to Freddy and back down to the ground before slightly shuffling closer. "May I come in? I feel like I haven't seen you in forever" Freddy opened the door, he turned and walked towards the cluttered couch full of plushies and toys. He sat down and moved over some plushies to make room for Bonnie.

"That's a pretty bow you have there" Bonnie spoke, smiling gently, he looked at the bow on Freddys nec thus making the bear smile brightly back towards him.

Bonnie’s mechanical eyes absorbed the fairly clean room, Noticing plushies pushed to the side and toys from fans and young children. Despite the clutter, there was still lots of room to move around. He watched the room almost glow in front of him. He could feel it, the excitement from a show, watching foxy across the hall from him get excited, Bonnie practicing his bass, watching children walk past and interacting with them. He missed it all.. now all he had was adults trying to escape their hyperactive children and occasionally some teenagers using the bowling area as an excuse to escape the children as well. His eyes stopped when he met Freddy's eyes and cautiously scooting to the side to making more room on the couch. "How's Monty? He put those new claws to use?" He jabbed jokingly knowing damn well those old claws were his. "I'm sure he's doing great" Freddy said. "I miss playing with him, he's probably having a blast" Bonnie said, looking to Freddy for confirmation. Freddy nodded, "He's alright, missing something I suppose… How's the bowling treating you?" Freddy questioned. "It's alright, I'm just doing my own thing and I'm happy. You?" He looked to Freddy. "Doing alright. I miss the shows however." Bonnie seemed upset. "I'm sorry to hear that, it was your favorite part of the job" Freddy said, reassuring him. "Why don't we get you on stage one night, like old times. I’m sure the co workers wouldn’t mind" He suggested. Bonnie looked almost ecstatic! He'd love to. Just to be back with Freddy, Chica.. maybe even foxy. But his fun was killed quickly knowing there was no possible way of doing so. "I can't" he said as he looked down, his fingers holding his metal joined knees. "Even if I wanted to I couldn't" he looked up, maybe this was a good time to tell him. "Freddy, they're thinking about decommissioning me.." He watched Freddy's reaction carefully. "What?! Why? What do you mean?" Freddy asked, "They wouldn't do that. It's not fair, you haven't even had a chance to.." His expression was of great disappointment. "Chance?" He questioned. "Chance to do what?" Freddy was clearly getting angry. “We've got a great band, all we need is a drummer. You've had your chance.." The look on his face could've been of someone listening to a horrible joke.

"Had my chance?.." He asked, his expression growing vacant. "What does that even mean?" Freddy didn't answer. Bonnie had heard about the opening for the new drummer, he knew if any of the older animatronics didn't take it they'd close the offering and have them decommissioned or used somewhere else. He sighed. He didn't know what to do. He didn't want to hurt Freddy's feelings but in all honesty he wasn't designed to be a drummer, and it wasn't what he wanted. "Freddy I know. But.. you've got a better bassist now, maybe it's just my time. I'm old, I've been scrapped one too many times, I think this is the last commission for me. I've already chosen what I want. And it's up to our team here.. to fully decide what they want from me.. and it may not end well. You know what happened to foxy.." The words sunk in and Freddy's expression went from vacant to sad in an instance. "That was your fault!" He hissed.

"Me?!" He looked surprised. "How was it my fault?" Bonnie asked.

"You denied the position Bonnie, no one else. You had your chance." Freddy answered.

Bonnie watched him as the anger ran through his joints. Was he not doing the right thing..? If he took the position he knew he'd be forgotten about.. he wouldn't be up with Freddy playing alongside him and Chica.. he'd be in the back, hidden playing the drums. In this moment, he'd do anything to blame the gator, to blame Monty for being better than what he was. "I couldn't take it. I couldn't take it because if I took it, I wouldn't be doing what I loved most. And that's being up there with you, and Chica.. playing with you, having fun.. watching the children.. why don't you understand.. I didn't want to be replaced and my only option was to get hidden away behind a damn drum set or have my own area. I decided I wanted to feel important for once, and I declined the position." Bonnie was now standing, fists in a ball and heaving heavily. "I'm sorry, Freddy.. please forgive me."

Bonnie went quiet, he turned towards the door and walked out pulling the door shut behind him.

Freddy watched as the metal door closed. He stood silent behind the door he'd only walked into about five minutes ago. It's been months since he last saw Freddy and the first time he sees him again an argument arises about Bonnie's choices. He decided that maybe giving him space was best. His footsteps began as he walked past Monty's room once more but this time he'd been gone, his room was pitch black and it had looked as if things had been thrown everywhere. Bonnie raised a brow and slowly but surely carried on. It seems as if once he wouldn't be part of the band anymore.. things were losing it's control. With his head held low he made his way to Bonnie bowling before noticing that Monty golf had almost been slammed into, golf balls that had been placed in baskets were knocked over, cups and golf clubs all over the entrance. It had to be Monty. If he couldn't kindle things with Freddy maybe he could try and speak with Monty.

He looked around the area in search of Monty. Bonnie looked carefully, the lights in this area being either dimmed or completely shut off, the large garage-like doors opened once Bonnie stepped forward and walked into the green themed room. Low growls and cries whaled out from above. Curiosity bubbled within the bunny. "Monty.. is that you?" He called upward. No response. He climbed up the scaffolding and looked around. "Monty! I know you're up here!" He called as his eyes spotted the figure. "Get away from me" the voice bellowed deeply. What was happening tonight.. almost everything Bonnie had done had seemed to set everyone off. Though this really wasn't his doing. Monty sneered as Bonnie took a step forward, the light from the few spotlights glistened against his teeth, his eyes side eyeing the purple bunny. "Get. Away. From me." He repeated. "Why are you doing this?"

Monty gripped his head as he lurched forward, his knees coming into contact with metal. "I don't know. I don't know. Just get away!" Bonnie jumped slightly at the sudden scream belting from his once old friend. Something was wrong.. something was very wrong. "Monty this isn't you" Bonnie spoke firmly. This wasn't the Monty he knew. This wasn't the self assured, go getter he knew. This was different. Something had taken over him. "Monty let me help you please.. this isn't like you.." the gator suddenly swiped his arm up, flying Bonnie to the concrete wall, the sound of metal scraping and slight malfunction filled his large ears. Monty stopped short as the claw ripped through Bonnie's torso. Bonnie sat slumped down against the wall, a large ripped hole in his torso exposing the endoskeleton within. Bonnie picked himself up watching as Monty approached. Monty stumbled and moved aggressively towards him destroying the hanging lighting rigs that swung from the ceiling. "No! No! NO!" He screamed as loud as he could. A large metal sheet that had been held onto the ceiling came crashing down on Monty. The loud booming from the fight echoed through the pizza plex, the sounds reaching to the others in their dressing rooms. Bonnie was seriously hurt, his stuttering began, as he tried to speak, his twitching fingers reaching forward for Monty to help him. "I-it's not y-your fault.. I p-promise it's not your fault." He watched the gator malfunction as he had been covered underneath the metal sheet. His sad eyes watching Bonnie trying to reach for him. "I'm sorry.." Monty spoke quietly. "I'm sorry, b-but you have to understand.. I don't know what's happening to me. I'm sorry." Monty went quiet, his head twitched. He grasped at the railing next to him struggling to pull himself from under the sheet, but it began shifting. It came off of him, Monty twitched again before starting a crawl towards Bonnie. The booming noises alerted the night guards, all of them rushing towards Monty golf and using the employees only entrance, having a quicker way of getting up to where the two were. They all stood in horror as they watched Bonnie struggle to try and comfort Monty, to tell him it was all going to be alright not fully realizing how badly Monty had hurt him. Monty's eyes looked towards the guards, his head becoming dizzy as he shut down completely. He didn't want to hurt Bonnie.. it was the last thing he wanted but he couldn't control his arms, he couldn't control what he had done. Bonnie picked himself up, his arm fell to his side, he must have broken the joint of his endoskeleton. "You're looking pretty busted up Bonnie, head down to Parts and Service and get yourself fixed up." One night guard said.

Bonnie nodded, before he turned and headed for the service elevator. He stood in the elevator quietly. He knew this had to be it. This really had to be the last straw for him.. he would no longer be a part of the pizza plex.. if Vanessa saw him like this he'd be absolutely done for. The elevator opened quickly as Bonnie stepped out. "You got pretty screwed up there huh?" The voice alarmed him as he looked up, eyes wide and his arm clenching his side harder.. damnit.. it was Vanessa. "It.. it wasn't his fault it was mine, I must have provoked him, I must have made him angry" Bonnie lied in hopes to spare his friend, she only smiled and grabbed Bonnie's arm walking him to a room he'd never seen before but knew what it had been. From the countless stories from foxy.. this was the room they placed animatronics that were no longer functioning and were awaiting their fate. Whether they'd be decommissioned or set back out to their areas. "Vanessa.. what are you doing, why are you doing this" she sneered at him. "You're of no use Bonnie. You can't fix an already broken bunny tough guy" she closed the door in his face. The room fell silent, cold. He was alone. Once again.

Bonnie sat in a dark room, the slight glow of burnt out fluorescent lights casted over spare parts and endoskeletons suspended from hooks on the ceiling. His head rested in his hands as he stared at his ripped torso, the fuzzy fabric hung down. The room's quiet ring had made him feel dizzy, the soft drip of the leaking ceiling had almost been enough to drive him crazy. Before he could do anything a soft whisper came from the corner of the room. Bonnie flashed his eyes up quickly and looked to the corner where the whisper erupted. "I'd never thought it would be Ye who sat upon this floor" came the whisper. "I'd thought if anyone it would be him, but he could not face the truth, the reality of his own cowardice and stupidity. He could not face his own shame." He laughed slightly, the old pirate laugh that Bonnie missed so much. "It be a shame it isn't him. I'd rip him to shreds, yes I would." Foxy let out a cough, clearing his throat and letting his head slump to the side. Bonnie hadn't had a clue who he had been talking about but the choosing of his words had something about them that Bonnie could almost picture who it could have been. But aside from that he was more in shock at the fact that foxy was still here.. that he'd still been alive. He'd been limp, his eyes flickering and no movement, Bonnie assumed he had been put in rest mode.. but he was still here. "What's happened to you?" He asked. "Did they.." He couldn't bring himself to ask the question. "Who.." he couldn't bring himself to ask either. The silence stretched on, the whisper still there. "Yar you be correct, me arms and legs are no longer of use to me. Shut down..." Foxy answered.

“ In fact. I am as good as dead.. as good as dead.. as good as dead."

Bonnie sat in silence. Foxy's eyes flickered off, the sound of a machine shutting down. The room fell silent again. "Foxy.."? Bonnie questioned, before the sudden jolt of foxy startled the bunny, his voice booming much louder this time. "No. It is he who's good as dead! It is he who is not deserving of his fate! Keep him the underground bonnie. Keep him the underground!" The shout left Bonnie speechless what was wrong with foxy.. what had he been talking about.. better yet who?

The whispering began to grow louder.

"Do it."

"No.."

"Do it."

"I'm not going to do it."

"Do it."

The whispering began again. "This poor fool, he cannot see, he cannot see what is right in front of his face."

"What's right in front of his face?" Bonnie asked. "Open Ye eyes bonnie.” he sighed slightly letting his head lean back against the wall. "Dumb dumb bunny can’t Ye see, She's no good.. he's no good.." he began to whisper. " why can't ye see that. Look at me.. they've done this. Why do ya think yur' being told you may be decommissioning.. they don’t want Ye anymore. Ye aren’t of any importance." One eye flickered it's lights out, before flickering back on. "This'un be a good one, look at ye, ye a stubborn one."

"I be telling'ya he ain't worth a damn." Foxy sighed softly, "Ye really don't understand huh?" Bonnie shook his head, how could he, Foxy had been beating around the bush. He'd been explaining things to Bonnie like he wasn't actually allowed to say what he should be saying. Foxy's eyes looked down as he began to speak quietly. "If you find a way to get me outta here.. I'll tell ye. Don't do this only for me.. but for Evan"

Foxy looked desperately at Bonnie as if to tell him to understand to finally let it click. "Help free us once more bonnie.." He whispered. "Help free us now"

"What do you mean? What's this about..?" Bonnie questioned.

“Ye don't need to know that yet" Foxy said. "Just help us be free."

[booklindworm]

A rant against Karen Traviss' understanding of history and her FAQ answers

Did you base the Mandalorians on the Spartans?

<cite> No. I didn't. </cite> Fair enough.

<cite> I really wish history was taught properly - okay, taught at all - in schools these days, because history is the big storehouse that I plunder for fiction. It breaks my heart to hear from young readers who have no concept even of recent history - the last fifty years - and so can't see the parallels in my books. You don't have to be a historian to read my novels, but you'll get a lot more out of them if you explore history just a little more. Watch a history channel. Read a few books. Visit some museums. Because history is not "then" - it's "now." Everything we experience today is the product of what's happened before. </cite> Yeah, I do to. Please, Ms Traviss, go on, read some books. Might do you some good. And don't just trust the history channels. Their ideas about fact-checking differ wildly.

<cite> But back to Mandos. Not every military society is based on Sparta, strange as that may seem. In fact, the Mandos don't have much in common with the real Spartans at all. </cite> You mean apart from the absolute obsession with the military ["Agoge" by Stephen Hodkinson], fearsome reputation ["A Historical Commentary on Thucydides" by David Cartwright], their general-king ["Sparta" by Marcus Niebuhr Tod], the fact that they practically acted as mercenaries (like Clearch/Κλέαρχος), or the hyper-confidence ("the city is well-fortified that has a wall of men instead of brick" [Plutarch, Life of Lycurgus])...

<cite> A slightly anarchic, non-centralized, fightin' people? Sounded pretty Celtic to me. Since I went down that path, I've learned more about the Celts (especially the Picts), and the more I learn, the more I realise what a dead ringer for Mandos they are. But more of how that happened later... </cite>

The Celtic people are more than one people, more than one culture. Celtic is a language-family! In the last millennium BC nearly every European ethnic group was in some ways Celtic, and they were not one. Later, after the Germanic tribes (also not one people, or a singular group) moved westwards, the Celtic cultures were still counted in the hundreds. Not only Scotland was Celtic! Nearly all of Western Europe was (apart from the Greek and Phoenician settlers on the Mediterranean coasts). The word “Celts” was written down for the first time by Greek authors who later also used the word “Galatians”. The Romans called these people “Gauls”, and this word was used to describe a specific area, bordered by the Atlantic Ocean, the Cévennes and the Rhine: “Gaul”. So the Celts, the Galatians and the Gauls were all part of the same Celtic civilisation. "Celts, a name applied by ancient writers to a population group occupying lands mainly north of the Mediterranean region from Galicia in the west to Galatia in the east [] Their unity is recognizable by common speech and common artistic traditions" [Waldman & Mason 2006] Mirobrigenses qui Celtici cognominantur. Pliny the Elder, The Natural History; example: C(AIUS) PORCIUS SEVERUS MIROBRIGEN(SIS) CELT(ICUS) -> not just one culture "Their tribes and groups eventually ranged from the British Isles and northern Spain to as far east as Transylvania, the Black Sea coasts, and Galatia in Anatolia and were in part absorbed into the Roman Empire as Britons, Gauls, Boii, Galatians, and Celtiberians. Linguistically they survive in the modern Celtic speakers of Ireland, Highland Scotland, the Isle of Man, Wales, and Brittany." [Celtic Culture: a historical encyclopedia. by John Koch] "[] the individual CELTIC COUNTRIES and their languages, []" James, Simon (1999). The Atlantic Celts – Ancient People Or Modern Invention. University of Wisconsin Press. "All Gaul is divided into three parts, one of which the Belgae live, another in which the Aquitani live, and the third are those who in their own tongue are called Celtae, in our language Galli." [Julius Caesar, De Bello Gallico] <= I had to translate that in school. It's tedious political propaganda. Read also the Comentarii and maybe the paper "Caesar's perception of Gallic social structures" that can be found in "Celtic Chiefdom, Celtic State," Cambridge University Press. The Celtic tribes and nations were diverse. They were pretty organized, with an academic system, roads, trade, and laws. They were not anarchic in any way. They were not warriors - they were mostly farmers. The Celts were first and foremost farmers and livestock breeders

The basic economy of the Celts was mixed farming, and, except in times of unrest, single farmsteads were usual. Owing to the wide variations in terrain and climate, cattle raising was more important than cereal cultivation in some regions.

Suetonius addressing his legionaries said "They are not soldiers—they're not even properly equipped. We've beaten them before." [not entirely sure, but I think that was in Tacitus' Annals]

Regarding the Picts, in particular, which part of their history is "anarchic"? Dál Riata? the Kingdom of Alba? Or are you referring to the warriors that inspired the Hadrian's Wall? Because no one really knows in our days who the fuck they were. The Picts’ name first appears in 297 AD. That is later. <cite> Celts are a good fit with the kind of indomitable, you-can't-kill-'em-off vibe of the Mandos. Reviled by Rome as ignorant savages with no culture or science, and only fit for slaughter or conquest, the Celts were in fact much more civilized than Rome even by modern standards. </cite> That's how the Romans looked at pretty much every culture that wasn't Greek, Roman, Phoenician, Egyptian, or from Mesopotamia (read, if you want, anything Roman or Greek about the Skyths, the Huns, Vandals, Garamantes...).

<cite> They also kicked Roman arse on the battlefield, and were very hard to keep in line, so Rome did what all lying, greedy superpowers do when challenged: they demonized and dehumanized the enemy. (They still used them in their army, of course, but that's only to be expected.) </cite> They were hard to keep in line, but they most definitely did not kick Roman arse on the battlefield. Roman arse was kicked along the borders of the Roman Empire, such as the Rhine, the Danube, the Atlas mountains, etc. And mostly by actually badly organized, slightly anarchic groups, such as the Goths or the Huns (BTW the Huns were not a Germanic people, even though early 20th century British propaganda likes to say so). Though they were also decisively stopped by the Parthians. Who were very organized. Ah well. <cite> While Rome was still leaving its unwanted babies to die on rubbish dumps - a perfectly acceptable form of family planning to this "civilisation" - and keeping women as chattels devoid of rights, the barbarian Celts had a long-standing legal system that not only gave women what we would think of as equal rights, but also protected the rights of the elderly, children, and the disabled. They had a road network across Europe and worldwide trade long before the Romans ever got their act together. And their science - well, their astronomical calculations were so sophisticated that it takes computers to do the same stuff today. </cite> See? You even say yourself that they weren't actually anarchic. Also you're not completely right: 1. women (of most Celtic cultures, with one notable exception being the Irish) were not allowed to become druids, e.g. scientists, physicians, priests, or any other kind of academics, so they did not have equal rights. Also, as in other Indo-European systems, the family was patriarchal. 2. the roads they had were more like paths, and did not span the entirety of Europe; the old roads that are still in use are nearly all of them Roman. Had the Celtic inhabitants of Gallia or Britannia built comparable roads, why would the Romans have invested in building a new system on top? 3. world-wide? Yeah, right. They traded with those who traded with others and so were able to trade with most of southern Eurasia and northern Africa, as well as few northern parts (Balticum, Rus), but that's (surprise) not the whole world. 4. most people use computers for those calculations you mention because its easier. It's not necessary. I can do those calculations - give me some time to study astronomy (I'm a math major, not physics) and some pencils and paper. 5. and - I nearly forgot - the kids didn't die. That was a polite fiction. The harsh truth is that most Roman slaves were Romans... <cite> So - not barbarians. Just a threat to the empire, a culture that wouldn't let the Pax Romana roll over it without a fight. (Except the French tribes, who did roll over, and were regarded by the Germanic Celts [...]) </cite> WTF Germanic Celts? What are you smoking, woman? Isn't it enough that you put every culture speaking a language from the Celtic family in one pot and act as if they were one people, now you have to mix in a different language-family as well? Shall we continue that trend? What about the Mongolian Celts, are they, too, proof that the Celts were badass warriors? I think at this point I just lost all leftover trust in your so-called knowledge. <cite> [...] as being as bad as the Romans. Suck on that, Asterix... </cite> Asterix was definitely a Celt, and unlike the British Celts, he was not a citizen of the Roman Empire.

<cite> Broad brush-stroke time; Celts were not a centralized society but more a network of townships and tribes, a loose alliance of clans who had their own internal spats, but when faced with some uppity outsider would come together to drive off the common threat. </cite> They might have tried, but they didn't. The first and only time a Celtic people really managed to drive off some uppity outsider would be 1922 following the Anglo-Irish Treaty of 1921*. The fact that France, Spain, Portugal speak Romance languages and the British (or Irish) Isles nearly uniformly speak English should be proof enough.

*Unless you count Asterix. <cite> You couldn't defeat them by cutting off the head. There was no head to cut off. </cite> You mean unlike Boudica and Vercingetorix. Oh wait. Tacitus, in his Annals, said that Boudica's last fight cost 80,000 Britons and 400 Romans their lives. He was probably exaggerating. But it definitely stopped much of the British resistance in its tracks. <cite> To the centralized, formal, rather bureaucratic Romans, for whom the city of Rome was the focus of the whole empire, this was a big does-not-compute. The Celts were everything they didn't understand. And we fear what we don't understand, and we kill what we fear. </cite> While that is totally true, it's also completely off the mark. The Romans demonized the druids, not every Celt, and they were afraid of what was basically an academic network. That had nothing to do with war. <cite> Anyway, Mandos....once I took a single concept - in this case, the idea of clans that operated on a loose alliance system, like the Celts - the rest grew organically. I didn't plan it out in detail from the start. </cite> That's really obvious. Maybe looking at some numbers and remembering that you weren't planning a small, local, rural, medieval community would have helped, too. I mean lets have a look at, say, Scotland (since you specifically mentioned the Picts): they still have less than 6 mio. people all together, and that's today. Mandalore is a sector. A sector of Outer Space with at least 2000 inhabited planets. How do you think that translates? It doesn't. <cite> I just asked myself what a culture of nomadic warriors would value, how they would need to operate to survive, and it all grew inexorably by logical steps. The fact that Mandos ended up as very much like the Celts is proof that the technique of evolving a character or species - find the niche, then work out what fits it - works every time. It creates something very realistic, because that's how real people and real societies develop. </cite> Celtic people were usually not nomadic! And, once again, non of them were predominantly warriors! It's really hard to be a nomadic farmer. I believe the biggest mistake you made, Ms Traviss, is mixing up the Iron Age (and earlier) tribes that did indeed sack Rome and parts of Greece, and that one day would become the people the Romans conquered. And apart from the Picts they really were conquered. <cite> So all I can say about Mandos and Spartans is that the average Mando would probably tell a Spartan to go and put some clothes on, and stop looking like such a big jessie. </cite>

I'd really like to see a Mando – or anyone – wearing full plate without modern or Star Wars technology in Greece. Happy heatstroke. There is a reason they didn't wear a lot (look up the Battle of Hattîn, where crusaders who didn't wear full helmets and wore chainmail* still suffered badly from heat exhaustion). [Nicolle, David (1993), Hattin 1187: Saladin's Greatest Victory] *chainmail apparently can work like a heatsink CONCLUSION You're wrong. And I felt offended by your FAQ answers. QUESTION You're English. You're from England. A group - a nation - that was historically so warlike and so successful that by now we all speak English. A nation that definitely kicked arse against any Celtic nation trying to go against them (until 1921, and they really tried anyway). A nation that had arguably the largest Empire in history. A nation that still is barbaric and warlike enough that a lost football game has people honestly fearing for their lives.

Also, a Germanic group, since you seem to have trouble keeping language-families and cultures apart. If we were to talk about the family, we could add on the current most aggressively attacking nation (USA) plus the former most aggressively attacking nations (the second and third German Reich), also the people who killed off the Roman Empire for good (the Goths and Visigoth), the original berserkers (the Vikings) and claim at the very least the start of BOTH WORLD WARS. Why did you look further?

Some other sources:

Histoire de la vie privée by Georges Duby and Philippe Ariès, the first book  (about the antiquity) I read it translated, my French is ... bad to non-existent

The Day of the Barbarians: The Battle That Led to the Fall of the Roman Empire  (about the Huns) by Alessandro Barbero

If you speak Dutch or German, you might try

Helmut Birkhan: Kelten. Versuch einer Gesamtdarstellung ihrer Kultur, Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, Wien

Janssens, Ugo, De Oude Belgen. Geschiedenis, leefgewoontes, mythe en werkelijkheid van de Keltische stammen. Uitgeverij The House of Books

DISCLAIMER

I’m angry and I wrote this down in one session and thus probably made some mistakes. I’m sorry. Or maybe I’m not sorry. I’m still angry. She can’t know who reads her FAQ and at least two of her answers (on her professional website) were offensive to the reader.

[anonil88]

Malcolm and Marie live blog

I don't usually do liveblogs for movies but yea.

Spoilers ahead!!

I love that its modern timed but very 70s stylized.

A tune indeed.

When you are high and drunk on success and

How the white critic reacts is why I feel like gatekeeping my scripts. At the same time some things I do make are about race or involve.

Marie sitting on the patio smoking is a mood whenever men are talking.

So he's pretentious and unaware.

Whoever chose the music for this, I feel like we would be Spotify mutuals.

Can this nigga stop pacing.

Also can he stop talking;

Marie is so tired and unimpressed.

Also little booties matter and are to be bitten.

Oooo the tension and the jazz.

Title Card over mac and cheese.

Shitty boxes mac and cheese but still mac and cheese.

Tbh i always wonder if spouses/significant others get upset when their spouses don't acknowledge them during speeches.

John sounds so much like his dad but I really hope his acting style differs from his dad a lot.

Guilty confession?

He did not profit off of his partners backstory and then not even acknowledge her.....I.....

If that ever happened to me catch me cussing my partner out during the beginning credits, the end credits, in the car, and at home.

GASLIGHTER!

The way I'm excited for Zendaya to give me some, oooo can she work with Regina King. Please on my knees I pray.

Um no that's not your job to coddle your lead.

He's a dick and the type of dick who makes himself look like a good person around other people.

If Sam Levinson is trying to make his viewers more of misandrist, it's working.

I feel like Marie has her flaws probably a lot of them and we will surely see as this continues, but Malcolm needs to learn how to apologize sincerely.

70s vibes! 70s vibes!

Them kissing and talking about criticism and dreams makes me miss a partner. A partner that I've had and haven't had.

Women really are behind every great man.

Yea sir you fucked a happy moment.

Oh visual allegories for looking in from the outside and cat and mouse chasing and looking from the outside in.

She's saying she doesn't feel noticed by you.

Gas lighter :0 he called her an emotional support dog, bruh.

I would LOVE to co-write or take a writing class held by Sam Levinson. The fights i write are very much in this same realm of reflection and anger and monologue.

Sam.....sam.....are all the sides inside of you doing okay sir?

The ugly side of dating and being in a relationship with someone who struggles with their own demons.

Honestly I could close my eyes and listen to this script being read without seeing these characters visually. Just close my eyes and get a sense of these characters like it was a radio story.

Oh. Oh this is a new wheelhouse of Zendaya acting; a different voice is like breaking through here and her expressions aren't the same we are used to. You can literally hear another character in there....hmm.

Mans is outside really fighting with his invisible demons lmfao.

Selfish ass, how after everything she said you came out of it thinking about your own craft and self instead of how you hurt her.

So she's conditional.

Me: did sam (a white man) say nigga this many times in his script or are the actors adding their own inflections. Not just the lingo used but the topic of race and directing etc. being written by a white writer about black characters is always gonna be a critique when you're writer is a white person.

Alexa play Broken Girls by Saba

He is so hurtful.

A clown nigga a clown look in the fucking mirror you bozo head ass looking like you need some Mehron clown white and a size 16 in clown shoes.

John is doing a really swell performance and reading of these lines.

He is reading her for her insecurities by bringing up his experiences with other women and that.....is yikes.

Arguments can get messy like this in real life but it takes a lot of maturity and control to either not let it get to this point or have a healthy conversation afterwards.

This film is really shot on some very crisp lenses.

They sitting there like 🚬🧍‍♀️🧍‍♂️.

Leftover Mac and Cheese and unfinished cigarettes.

The nyt etc. pay walls are so annoying, but there is a work around look at the articles on incognito or add a period at the end of the url.

He sounds like his daddy so much here, weird, this is the only part I'm eh on the dialogue it feels real but a bit out of pace in how they are bouncing off one another.

Nail scissors? So the end is not the only part he based off of Marie. 🙄

ITS A GOOD REVIEW YOU DINGUS but also its a full review they are going to critique things. She isn't wrong though he did profit off of a woman's story that was not his own to profit from.

Yes Malcolm because unfortunately all marginalized people look through a lens of life that is inherently political because of the world they live in.

He is so mad and upset and had a lot on his chest. But I think he Malcolm and Sam are talking about something thats an issue and a non issue. Being critiqued for you art is hard but also Malcolm is not super self aware. He's like a stand in figure of for example rich depop sellers who wanna be oppressed so badly they yell at others instead of examining their own personal behaviors and ethics.

Oh Marie, when you know the spark is gone and you pick fights because.

He ain't even ask her to read?

One critic I have for most of hollywood actors is they learn their cry and that is it. A change from this is Margot Robbie, I adore her fluctuations of crying being similar but the crying is carried differently for each character. If I had to say any actor that does a cry scene amazing its this woman right here (Amy Adams)

You stole her story from her and gave it away, she has a right to be upset and angry and a rubber band ball of emotions.

Citizen Kane, not the cinematography, but the story is it even that good? (Unpopular opinion but meh, maybe in my rewatch it will be better.)

But that is what people want authenticity and whatever authenticity means to them. What is real for one is false for another.

To be honest look at the criticism of Euphoria, well earned, but a lot of people were like this isn't real even though he literally wrote about his own life. People said it was inauthentic like....wtf.

Ahh the smoking is just a habit, he quit and she didn't.

CAST ZENDAYA IN A HORROR MOVIE PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING. Get Lupita and Zendaya and some more black actors preferably less known ones in a horror movie. One with a interesting script and story, directed by Regina King. Please and thankyou.

I love Marie yep that was amazing.

Behind every great man is a greater woman, one that deserves her credit for how she has stood behind. I wonder the stories of those women, what they have sacrificed or not sacrificed. Their thoughts and feelings when the world is surrounding their partner and views them as a plus one. (I'd write a short script about this but I think do I have the time, can I, or am I equipped ?)

He is a shitty person for bringing up his exes, like she even said I don't wanna know any of that.

Imagine being on anti depressents and rarely having a sex drive and then when you do your partner starts talking about their exes and tearing you apart for all your faults.

I love when you see peaks of Zendaya's cadence in roles.

Tension, what if's and he didn't even bring her up in his speech.

Marie to herself and the audience:

He is not afraid that he will loose her but as my character says in my unreleased story, "i can't wait til you give me a fucking reason to leave your ass." Malcolm expects everything in order for not even doing the bare minimum and she is only asking him for something as simple as consideration. She just wants him to be considerate. He wants to get married and considers their relationship like rolling down a hill at full speed and he cannot apologize, he cannot be considerate, and he cannot admit his wrongs. He can only offer her I love yous that he probably does mean but he does not back up outside of what he's done for her in the past. The past which was more of her experience than his and he sees his part in it as a burden. He doesn't use his own vantage point of the past to further his career he uses her. He does all of these things without a real apology or thankyou because he is not afraid to loose her.

The restrictions of quarantine and the panorama have made Sam's writing very no frills. I wonder how other films from other directors and writers that are filmed in small contained crews like this will be structured. But this was a very good movie gonna add to my letter box 3.3-3.5

Oh shit this is my song,

Ratings/overall thoughts:

Script is like a C+, B- : I could go into my heavier big brain thoughts on the script but I don't feel like it. You catch hints of it above it centers conversation on race and privilege, mainly the writers and questions i have that won't be answered but Sam did make me grow disdain for Malcolm over a short time. Which is sometimes hard to do because im one sympathetic person but the sympathy i have for Malcolm is at 0. Maybe a 2 at some scenes but then it quickly goes back to 0. Some parts of the dialogue miss the mark or hit the are off balanced. While some of it like Malcolm's bathroom speech albeit mean is really strong or their conversation when he comes back from peeing really shines for me.

Performances: B+ to A- because they carried the script further than it could of gone with less talented actors. The monologues do well to showcase their current skill levels which are already high af and leave room for anticipation in where these actors go next.

Zendaya holding a knife: A+ with a gold star. That switch on and off and on is delectable.

John being a shitty boyfriend but following Marie like a lost puppy: B+ with a good job written at the bottom of the paper, Malcolm being nervous a frantic dialed up with more realistic nervousness would have sold me completely on Malcolm's anxious waiting.

Cinematography: A and a participation award.

The mac and cheese: A+ for the easy mac. Wish it was like Annie's or Velveeta.

Cigarettes: Participation award and their picture hung up for student of the month. Why the grill lighter? Everytime Malcolm opened up his mouth Marie was like sparks fly.

The music: A++ with a prize. Whoever picked the music probably makes good Spotify playlists.

[jojoboisimagines]

Johnny Joestar x Reader :: Wait for It :: Chapter 7

Previous chapter      Next chapter

Summary: Gyro is hospitalized, and now Johnny has no one to turn to. That is, until a former female rider shows him a little compassion. 

..::..

The atmosphere out in this grassy field felt much better to say the least. Probably the most comfortable you’d been throughout this whole race. No fighting, no people, and plenty of roaming space for your horse.  

You and your riding partner, aka Johnny, had mostly eaten your leftovers in silence. He had devoured the meal a lot faster than you thought he would. He’s still growing, you guessed.

Laughing to yourself earned a side-eye from him, before wiping his hands of all the leftover crumbs. Johnny heaves a content sigh, staring at the empty to-go box. The man did a couple of arm stretches, seems like the food really wore him out. Or made him sleepy.

Now that you had a chance to unwind today, you couldn't help but realize how calm he was around you. He wasn’t wary or suspicious of you as far as you could tell, and he wasn’t really pushing you away when having conversations. He was just..doing his own thing.

Perhaps he was too busy missing his riding partner to even attempt to start any real conflict on his own. 

Before you knew it, Johnny was back on his wheelchair, wheeling himself towards Slow Dancer to mount again. You were pretty much done with your own food as well. It was good, but not nearly good enough to start a bar fight for. 

Standing on your feet, you dusted any excess grass from your pants. You knew you were probably gonna miss this spot, but it was better to go ahead and move on. There was still a lot you needed to learn, according to your ‘mentor’.

A cool, satisfying breeze passed by as you walked back up to your horse Soarin’. It really was a nice day out. You glanced over to Johnny, but he wasn’t on his horse yet. Actually, it looked like he was a bit angry. Furious even, if his face getting slightly red was any indication. 

You looked up to see a familiar face, yet one you haven't seen since the beginning of the race. 

What was his name again, you thought...DJ...Damon...oh, Diego.

You had practically no idea who this guy was, aside from the fact he was British and had stolen the lead for the majority of the race. You didn’t particularly know him because he was a foreign racer, you mainly focused on the popular riders in your own country.

Yet it seemed like Johnny had some prior business with him, evident by him almost literally seething in his seat.

"The hell do you want, Dio, leave us alone!" He pointed at the taller man, hoping itd emphasize how he wanted him to back off.

"Hmm..Where is the Italian idiot anyway? It's almost strange seeing you without being latched to his side like a Chihuahua." Diego said, dismissively of Johnny's threat.

The ex jockey gripped the handle of his wheelchair so hard his knuckles might turn white in a matter of minutes. Though his face said something different, like he was trying to keep his cool but his body couldn't help but demonstrate his frustration.

He swallowed a lump in his throat.

"None of your business. Don't you have anything other to do than bother me?"

The Brit opened his mouth to say something else, before you caught his eye. The blue orbs quickly scanned you before looking back at Johnny.

"Oh? Having other racers aid you? Are you that desperate for help since you can't do anything alone?" 

Johnny sneered. Did this guy get off on confronting someone just to insult and degrade them? There was nothing stopping Johnny from punching Diego in the face (except for onlookers, which he could care less about honestly) so he wasn't sure where he thought his hubris would get him, but if Jojo has any say in it, it'll get him in the hospital.

He had been so far in his own mind after that remark that he hadn't even realized your presence beside him now. You had already spoken up before he got the chance to tell you it wasn't worth it.

"Actually, I'm not helping him, he's helping me." You corrected the arrogant man. 

Raising an eyebrow at you, he places a hand on his hip in a way that implies he really didn't care about what you said.

In that case, you wouldn't hold back either.

Dio puts his hand on his chest like a petty rich girl in high school.

"Who are you again? In all my time in this race I haven't seen you."

You knew that was a subtle jab about him being first and you being so far behind you were barely noticeable. Fists almost automatically balled up at that, but you'd control yourself for now.

"I'm sure you hardly look at anyone except your mirror. By now it's probably been splotched in horse manure by now, so really it's showing you what you've looked like all along."

Johnny snickers, and it's probably the cutest thing you've seen all day.

..in a friendly way of course.

His lip twitches, showing his teeth, a fang pointedly sticking out. Weird, you thought. You hadn't seen anyone with a fang in years.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dio tried to interrogate, but you weren't scared at all. In fact, you were just getting started on this guy.

"It means you look like horse shit, duh." Johnny answered, folding his arms. A small smirk still on his face.

“Watch it, Joestar.” Diego sneered. For someone who dished it out like second nature, he sure couldn’t take it. “One wrong move and I can ruin your standing in the race, AND your reputation--or at least, what’s left of it.”

You roll your (e/c) eyes. You’ve had enough of this guy, what was this, a playground?

“Dude shut up, if you want to prove anything then win the whole damn race and stop talking like you already have.” One more retort and you’ll fly off the handle at him.

Diego stays silent for a moment, before leaning in to your face, his nose inches from yours.

“I already have. You’re welcome to join me when you’re done playing in the mud with poor Jojo.” 

Before you could reply, he reeled back and turned on his heel. You wanted to punch him so bad, how dare he talk down to you and your friend like this..

“Don’t do it (y/n).” You hear Johnny behind you. “As much as I wanna see it happen, he’s not wrong about being able to sabotage both of us.” 

You grunted. “What could you possibly care about our ‘reputations’, Johnny? That was pure disrespect, and I can’t let it fly!”

“...”  He was looking at the ground now, seeming like he was trying to find whatever reason he could to prevent you from firing off. Johnny sighs.

“Look, I’ll be straightforward with you. I’m not in the race for money or status.”

You turned around at that, fairly confused.

“I’m in this race to..learn a technique from my friend, Gyro. I could care less about the stuff Diego desperately wants me to so he can have ammo to bug me with. However, you seem pretty set on trying to prove yourself that you can do this. I’ve seen it when we train.”

“..Seen what?”

Johnny pauses.

“Your determination. This is probably gonna sound dumb, but your eyes, they’ve been different. Like there’s some kind of fire in them now. Honestly, since joining this race, I can relate. Its part of why i’m still deciding to help you after you’ve..” His eyes become sarcastically half lidded. “Gotten me into almost two fights now.”

A scoff escapes your lips. What on Earth was this man saying anymore? Though you wouldn’t deny, it was a bit encouraging to hear.

The scoff was a bit off-putting to him, and he took another pause. He looked a little...flustered? You weren’t sure what that meant. Did you make him feel stupid on accident?

“That’s why...I’m not letting you take the chance to have Diego potentially ruin all your chances. This training would be for nothing.”

Something inside you suspected there was another reason, but you wouldn’t question it. Walking forward to him, you bent over to meet his eye level in his chair.

“Fine. I’ll beat up Diego after the race is over. Let’s get to our horses.” You take the wheelchair handles and starting walking towards Slow Dancer.

You couldn’t see it but, Johnny had a faint smile on his face.

[ellewriteswrongs]

picking favorites (a @tsbandau drabble)

if y’all aren’t emotionally invested in @underdog-arts ‘s band au, idk what y’all are even doing /j

anyway, here’s a wholesome family drabble insp. by the band au and my (not-so) subtle obsession with remus and janus. also subbing to their patreon is the best $5 i’ve probably ever spent, no joke

“Honey, you can still pick up Ry, right?” Janus called down the hallway, carrying a basket of laundry on each hip before depositing them in the hallway to put away later. Remus was seated in their shared office catching up on emails as Janus began packing up leftover pasta into containers to take to their show scheduled that night. 

“I told you I got ‘em,” he agreed, banging the last clumps of his protein shake into his mouth with the heel of his hand. “I’m gonna’ jog to V’s and grab the van.”

Janus nodded to themself out of instinct before faltering, their brow furrowing. 

“Wait—Re, that’s like three miles,” they challenged, dumping the dirtied dishes into the sink. “Just take the fucking car.”

Remus’ snort laugh was audible from down the hallway. 

“They asked for the van!” Remus cackled. “And I, for one, do not disappoint. Apparently making my kid’s friends think they’re cool is worth a three-mile jog.”

Janus rolled their eyes, albeit fondly. This was, unfortunately, not news. 

Riley was having an…interesting phase. It wouldn’t be abnormal for kids their age if it weren’t for the fact that their parents were ridiculously competitive, and all of their parents’ friends were eager to get in on it. 

As soon as Remus attended career day in Riley’s first grade classroom, resulting in the entire class of six-year-olds marveling at the fact that their friend’s dad was a “rock star.”

Janus loved that conversation over dinner that night. 

They weren’t jealous. No, in fact, it was probably overdue for Riley to have a bit of a “Daddy’s kid” phase, considering how joined at the hip they were with Janus for multiple years now. But they wanted to win. 

Riley could make their own decisions about picking a favorite parent. As long as that decision was Janus. 

“You’ve gone so-oft,” they sing-songed, smirking as Remus appeared in the kitchen behind them, wrapping one hand around their hip and pressing a kiss to their temple. “Ry’s got you wrapped around their finger.”

Remus have a flash of his crooked grin. 

“Yeah, well…at least I know where they get that from.”

Janus rolled their eyes, trying to hide their reddening face. 

“Sap,” they grumbled fondly. “Hurry up and get on with your run before you’re late to pickup. And tell V I said hey.”

Remus gave an exasperated chuckle and affirmation, but pocketed his keys and wallet nonetheless. 

The jog to Virgil’s apartment wasn’t a particularly strenuous three miles, being downtown and all, and Remus was far from out of shape. Still, three miles was three miles—especially in the late afternoon sun. Needless to say, Virgil wasn’t thrilled to have a giant sweaty man on his doorstep, but he handed over the keys nonetheless. 

The van was old, still clinging to its axels from when Remus himself purchased it from an old neighbor and declared it the band’s “tour bus.” It was nice enough at the time, especially for the price he paid, but it certainly wasn’t still around for anything more than sentimental value. 

Mainly just Remus refusing to get rid of it. 

That, and the fact that, for whatever reason, Riley thought it was the coolest thing ever. 

The drive wasn’t long, only the sitting in traffic of other parents in minivans trying to get into the school parking lot. He…wasn’t a fan of that part of being a parent, that’s for sure. He could do without any other parents, thank you very much, but at least it was fun to see how obvious all of them were in their distaste of both him and Janus, compared to how much their kid absolutely adored them. 

A fact that was only proven when Remus eventually made it to the parking lot and exited his van, only to be met with ear-splitting squeal of “daddy!” and an armful of six-year-old. 

He can’t deny how, even after all these years, the title still makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Like…he is a dad. That’s his kid! How fucking rad is that!

He happens to spot a few other parents, along with some of Riley’s friends that he recognizes, and he offers a quick wave with the hand that isn’t mussing up his kid’s hair. 

“You brought the van,” Riley points out with a toothy grin that Remus can’t help mirroring. He can’t help the knot in his throat when he spots the gap in their teeth from their first ever lost tooth—which only meant they were getting much too old and Remus would really appreciate it if they would slow the fuck down.

“I told you I would, didn’t I?” Riley nods, bouncing on Remus’ hip just a bit out of excitement. “I gotta’ warn you though, JJ’s getting pretty jealous.”

Riley laughs before sticking out their tongue and making a fart noise in Remus’s face. 

Remus is, for the thousandth time, bewildered at how Riley couldn’t possibly be more like Janus if they tried. And mostly smitten. He has the coolest kid on Earth, after all. 

“They can suck my butt!” Riley squeals and Jesus Christ, Remus is going to have a heart attack right there in the parking lot. He’s gonna’ have to grill Jan again to make sure those two aren’t secretly biologically related. 

“Hey, your words not mine, squirt,” he smirks, opening the van door and strapping them into the car seat. “And your early bedtime if you let JJ hear any of that.”

He finishes with a pinch on their nose before closing the van door and getting back in the driver’s seat. 

Riley, as soon as the radio turn on, starts protesting very aggressively to listen to “your songs, daddy! Play your songs!” 

Thankfully, he has a CD burned with some of their…cleaner songs for that exact purpose. 

Riley, for lack of a better word, was ‘singing’ along at a volume that Remus would’ve otherwise found hilarious and impressive if it wasn’t right in his ear. Still, there was a certain fondness that came with watching his kid’s excitement over his work—something that, as usual, was paired with thrashing within the confines of a car seat and headbanging their little heart out. 

Along the drive Remus made every attempt to stop the barrage of the screamo singer in the making, but all were ultimately unsuccessful. At least…until he pointed out one particular building out of a strip mall assortment. 

“Hey, you see that store right there? The one with the red sign?” He spoke up, catching Riley’s eager attention in an instant. They placed both hands on the van window to look out. 

“What is it?” They asked, squinting to try and read what was on the sign. 

“You know the snake on my leg?” Riley nodded, quieting down. “That’s where JJ took me to get it.”

They paused, seemingly putting some pieces together in their head.

“How come you only have one?” They asked, still kicking their legs against their seat. “JJ has lots, how come you don’t have lots too?”

Remus chuckled, continuing along the road as the light turned green. 

“‘Cause I don’t need another one. They’re very expensive, you know.”

“Is it ‘cause you’re a wimp?” 

Remus choked on his own spit. 

“N-no,” he choked out, laughing. “No I’m not, I just think it looks better this way.”

He didn’t bother looking into the backseat to see what Riley thought of that answer, but if the return to karaoke that followed was any indication, they were not impressed. Still, he’d probably take the teasing over the screaming, but kids are kids. 

Even as they pulled into their driveway, Remus had to strategically dodge Riley’s flailing limbs in order to un-fasten the seatbelts on their car seat and actually get them in the house. Apparently the music was not as vital to the ‘sing-along’ as he’d hoped it was when he turned the car off. 

“Alright, alright, calm those legs down before you knock my teeth out, will ya’?” Remus teased, placing Riley on his shoulders where they instantly took fistfuls of his hair to hold on. Riley toned down the velocity, but otherwise did not stop. “Careful, squirt, if you wanna’ kick so bad, I’m signing you up to play soccer.”

Riley stopped almost instantaneously, gripping Remus’ hair even tighter as they headed back inside the house, Riley’s tiny backpack slung around Remus’ forearm. 

“Nooo,” they wailed, half punctuated by laughter that echoed through the house. 

“What are we complaining about?” Janus spoke, leaning against the doorway across the room with a fond smile. 

“He said if I kick him in the teeth I have to play soccer,” Riley whined, attempting to climb down from Remus’ shoulders on their own. Janus snorted a laugh before swiftly crossing the room to collect their child and place them on their hip. 

“Wow, your daddy’s so mean,” Janus agreed, raising a challenging eyebrow as they stood in front of their husband. Remus pouted before bending down to steal a kiss.

“Gross,” Riley giggled, pressing a hand on each of their parents’ faces to separate them. 

“Gross?” Janus smirked. “Well in that case, maybe your dad was being a bit unfair.”

Riley turned to Remus to stick out their tongue at him. 

“I mean, soccer? That’s just ridiculous,” Janus continued, a mischievous glint in their eyes. “We’ll obviously have to sign you up for football instead. A punt like that has got to be put to good use.”

Riley immediately went back to their dramatized complaining, this time reaching desperately for Remus to get him to take them back from Janus—to which Remus just held up his hands in mock innocence.

“No can do, kid,” he smirked. “The punishment has to fit the crime, after all.”

Riley continued their attempts to wiggle out of Janus’ unyielding grip.

“Never!” They declared, trying a different approach of reaching over Janus’ shoulder to escape from behind. “I won’t! I won’t do it, I promise!”

Remus and Janus both knew they wouldn’t actively try to hurt either of them, but sometimes it was just more fun to assert rules when it came with shrieking laughter and climbing their parents like a jungle gym.

“Well, now you know where we stand,” Remus spoke in false authority, reaching for one of Riley’s tiny shoes and holding it up to address it as if it were in control of their legs. “I better not see you around these parts again, ya’ hear?” He added in an over-the-top western accent, gesturing to his face. 

Riley squealed with laughter as he held out his hand for a handshake and they shook it with their accused foot. 

“Alright, alright, you two,” Janus intervened with fond exasperation. “Snacks are on the counter, take it or leave it.”

Riley whipped their head around to peer into the kitchen, cheering when they spotted two plates on the kitchen counter, each with a toaster waffle piled high with blueberries. 

“Second…breakfast!” They cheered, drumroll-ing on their leg before whooping and slinking out of Janus’ grip and climbing up onto the kitchen barstools. Remus, giving a fond eye-roll at the enthusiasm, turned to drape his arms over Janus’ shoulders from behind, perching his chin on top of their head. 

“They get it from you, you know,” he mumbled, smirking at the scoff it earned him. 

“Shut up,” Janus grumbled, the smile evident in their voice. “That is all you.”

“Babe, sports are a threat in this house,” he teased. “You’re telling me that came from me?”

“Yeah, I’ll take that one,” they chided, turning around to face their husband. “As long as you’re aware that the energy, the volume—honey, that’s all you.”

Remus quirked his brow with a proud smirk. 

“Or maybe it’s the fact that they sleep for fourteen hours and we haven’t even had eight in the last six years,” he challenged knowingly. “You know, I happen to remember that back in the day…that bed was hardly even for sleeping.”

Janus snorted, their face reddening slightly.

“Is it bad to think of those as the ‘good old days’ already?”

Remus swept a piece of their hair out of their face. 

“Hell no, dude. We lived like kings back then,” he chuckled. “How ‘bout this—I’ll get Ro to take ‘em to the park or something this weekend and I’ll dick you down just like old times, ‘kay?”

Janus sputtered out a cackle, smacking Remus on the chest before covering his mouth with their hand.

“Fucking christ, they’re like two yards away,” they hissed, still laughing. “I am not going to be the one fielding questions about what getting dicked down means, oh my god.”

“You say that like they listen to anything when there’s food in front of them,” Remus countered, nodding in the direction of their kid as Janus rolled their eyes with a chuckle. 

“Now that, is from you,” they grinned, jabbing him in the side with their elbow. 

“Hey, it’s not my fault you’re serving up delicacies like toaster waffles,” Remus said, raising his hands in mock defense. 

Janus gave him a look before crossing their arms. 

“Yeah, well, you’re lucky I know you can’t go two hours without food. Go on, there’s one for you, even if it’s probably cold by now,” they teased as Remus excitedly kissed their forehead before practically running to the kitchen. He hopped up to sit on the counter, folding each toaster waffle like a blueberry-filled taco before funneling them into his mouth. 

Janus followed close behind—at a normal pace, thank you very much—and took the actual seat next to their kid, sipping at the cup of tea they had left on the counter before the two had returned home as they listened to Riley regaling their day at school.

———

Realistically, Remus probably should’ve seen it coming. He was a couple days past his previous record of days as Riley’s “favorite” and he knew he likely didn’t have much longer before Janus dethroned him again, but he certainly hadn’t expected the scene he walked in on that night. 

He had heard hushed laughter coming from one of their house’s bathrooms that evening, assuming at first that Janus was just handling Riley’s bath or something like that, but as he cleaned up the mess from their dinner and finished washing the rest of their dishes, he was surprised to find they were still in there. So obviously he had to investigate. 

He knocked on the door, rolling his eyes fondly as shushing and giggles came from within. 

“Everything good in there?” He teased, leaning against the door. “I gotta’ say, I’m a little hurt I didn’t get invited to whatever club this is that hangs out in the bathroom.”

More giggles followed by the oh-so familiar sound of Janus’ shushing. 

“I guess I’ll just have to find out for myself what all the fuss is about,” he sing-songed, slowly creaking open the door before letting out a snort laugh at the scene before him. 

Janus was seated on the edge of the bathtub, wash cloth in hand, as Riley sat on the sink counter, covered on all limbs with temporary tattoos. At least the pieces of tape that Janus had cut into circles and colored black to look like ear gauges were admittedly cute. 

“Oh, I see how it is,” he smirked from against the doorframe. 

“JJ said you’re a wimp,” Riley proudly announced. “I was right.”

Janus stuck their tongue out and made a spitting noise and…yeah, that was their kid alright. Not that Remus would have it any other way.