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plasticfangtastic · 5 months

Text

Building Blocks. Ch. 2

A Butchlander fanfic

a/n: took a while but i managed to write something, updates will be slow but thank you for reading, not proofread I die with this as i ease myself into this again.

edit... forgot to add link to prev chap:

tags: slow burn, romance, dadlander, drama.

Sypnopsis: au where Becca stays with Butcher and passes Ryan as Billy's and is Billy who has to deal with Homelander after the death of his wife

Chapter 2

The woman stared at the vial with incredulity.

He hadn’t invited her in to talk simply handling her this vial on his driveway, naming it ‘Compound V’... something she had never heard before– before asking her to leave and keep low, he didn’t offer explanations simply asking for her hand in case he had to do disappear with Ryan on a short notice, whatever had happened it had him on edge and anxious to get her away from him as soon as possible either for his or her own safety she guessed. So she forgave his rudeness for whatever this was, had him hearing specters in the grass– It certainly wasn’t because he wanted to clean up the place for Ryan based on his appearance clean clothes but dirty hair, the smoke coming from the chimney was the only unusual thing she noted

“What’s on your mind?” She asks, unable to stand his troubled expression any longer.

“I don’t know if am gonna be in trouble.” He smiles weerily– but I’ll need to keep him distracted if I hope to get away from him.”

“Him?”

“Homelander…”

“What does he have to do with any of this?”

“You need to leave Mallory.”

She should’ve found a way to keep an eye on him, but she took the vial and left. Sensing a peculiar unease in his voice that didn’t often come from him.

“Is a bit warm to have the fireplace lit up.”

Butcher meet the Supe in his living room almost having a heart attack on the spot, he looked away trying to calm himself while hoping the Supe had been too self-absorbed to notice but Homelander had just chosen not to care, having more pressing matters in mind.

Seeing he’d brought a gift box, Butcher studied his appearance, it look rigid yet desperate to appear approachable– boots had been polished and oiled, his gloves tucked under his arm, the flap of his suit down to reveal patriotic red, and his hair had been re-touched overnight there had been more brown on his undercut last time, now it had an almost strawberry tint blending into the browns to appear more natural if he had to take a guest, even brushed to the side lightly, Butcher scoffed finding it all quite funny that he would do all of this to look so artificial– no sterile instead of just looking like whatever his normal self was, perhaps all celebs were like this Butcher thought, yet he did found the present a bit charming.

“I thought I would bring him a present.” He said softly.

“I was burning some stuff…” He picks a couple cushions off the ground, kicking a dog’s toy to the side– what’s in the box?”

“A baseball glove– it’s my favorite sport. I want to share my passion, I guess.”

Butcher examines the rather fancy wrapping of the box, there’s layers to it allowing decorations to be tucked in the sleeves, and for the life of him, he can’t find much tape on the sides of it, even the paper had a visible thickness to it that screamed excessive… that said ‘I want to impress you’ in cursive.

“I thought… well my assistant thought it would be a nice way to get to know each other” from one of the paper sleeves he pulls forward a set of tickets– there’s a Yankees’s game next week.”

“I don’t know” He has one look at the tickets– ‘Legends Suite’?? Those are great, no…”

“I thought of getting a private suite but I was discouraged”

Butcher took a deep breath trying to ignore the sparkles from the gift and back to business.

“Look… I… I don’t think you can just come in and tell him you’re his dad, his mom just died, he’s going thru a lot, mate.” He said softly, trying to sound as gentle as he could thinking of the burn scuff marks on his hardwood, hoping it wouldn’t be him, he had a handful of guns hidden across his living room but he knew that it wouldn’t do a thing against the blond– I… think we need to slow down”

“Work friends.”

“What?”

“You work for the CIA, I’m a superhero, we worked together on some cases and we are friends. I came today to give you my condolences and try to cheer you up, and then once Ryan is comfortable with me, I’ll do the honors.” He takes a step closer to Butcher pressing the tickets against his chest– eight guns all over the house… that’s a nice rifle in the closet… packs a hard punch. Try it, find out what’s gonna happen to you if you do.”

Butcher can only scowl at the man.

“We can work together, William. I want this to work out for the sake of my son… but don’t test me.”

“You’re not very good with people are you?”

“I’m a professional actually.” His eyes flash red for a brief moment but his charming smile never fades.

“Come back later. When we’re having dinner.”

“Why? He’s a minute away?”

Butcher walked towards the entrance standing by the red door to catch a glimpse of his in-law’s honda accord driving down the road as it emerged from the trees and shrubs.

He turned in a panic, to see Homelander had followed him half-way.

“You stay in the living room!” He screamed with panic.

Homelander paid attention to the man’s heart rate hoping he would just have a heart attack and die, but as the car moved closer he realized it wasn’t Butcher’s heart rate that he could hear drumming in his ears, but his own.

He wished he had a mirror and somebody to check his teeth, he wanted to make the perfect first impression, and as those light steps hopped off the honda, he could heard a voice in his head yelling, telling him to check his posture, to smile, to breathe calmly and by god to not curse in front of the child or cry, or blurt out something that could only scar him.

He hated the story they were gonna sell him, he wanted to run to him and tell him, he was his father, he wanted to rid of Butcher and take his place beside him, but he couldn’t… he couldn’t risk being rejected by him, when he had this man in his life already, a father that had loved him and protected him, and who at least hadn’t thrown him out, he had at least heard him– he almost wished Saunders was here, if she was he could simply seduced her and take them away from Butcher.

It would’ve been easy if Butcher was a woman, no pretense where the baby came from from the get go, he could’ve lowered himself to seduce the grieving widow if he had to.

As he smelled the anxiety rise from inside of him, he blushed at the thought.

“Feeling better, Billy?”

The older man whose eyes looked more tired than Butcher’s spoke first, after urging the kid to let his dog take a leak before coming inside the house.

He stared at his son-in-law, watching those swollen under eyes, he reeked of mouthwash and his clothes looked crinkled, nervously looking past him to catch a glimpse of Terror or Ryan.

“You really made yourself a fool. You weren’t the only one grieving and you had to make a scene in front of your kid, fucking shameless Billy!”

“I don’t need this, Wayne!” He squeezed his fists– thank you for looking after him, but mind your business.” He spat

“She was my daughter too.” He could’ve growled at him, he looked away with a huff before he could say anything else, both men trying to hold their rage and grief back, both eyes stinging as they looked at each other– feed the kid will ya? He didn’t wanna eat anything and barely got him to have some oats.”

“Thanks for taking care of him, I’ll get some chinese.”

His tone was overly polite and just as aggressive, both men didn’t wish to mingle any further, now without her they didn’t need to be friendly, just amiable enough to not push the other away.

Ryan emerged right on queue, he looked anxious as he let the old stubby dog pull on his leash, barking cheerfully, picking up speed as he saw his dad, his brown locks messy and his eyes just as exhausted as the ones on his pops, Ryan slowed down telling himself to keep smiling not ‘cuz he wanted to but for his father’s sake.

“Hi there scamp!” Butcher doesn’t hesitate taking him in his arms, lifting him up as if he was still a babe and light as a feather, squeezing in to make sure this is not but a dream, and from afar the younger man wished that was him.

Ryan said goodbye and it almost felt like it would be the last time he would see his grandfather something was off about his father, something that smelled wrong, his dog barged in wobbling straight to his food bowl barely noticing the supe in the living room, not that he could say the same about the boy.

His eyes glued themselves on that man, lifting his head, begging to be let go as he traded incredulous looks with his father.

“Dad, why is Homelander in our living room!?”

“I… we…”

“I’m a friend of your dad, from work!” His voice was forceful and rehearsed, irking Billy from the get-go– is nice to meet you, champ!”

Billy kept him close, never letting go of him, hand cemented on his son’s shoulder.

“You know Homelander!?” He said with a childish excitement.

“We met on a case. Top-secret.” he winks– he’s here to visit.” Butcher spits anxiously brushing his hair in a soothing motion.

“I heard about your mom… your dad has been such a good friend of mine, I just wanted to see if you— he was okay.” His voice is so fake it goes back to being believable– here I got you a present.”

The kid took a second to process it, looking back for permission before taking the ornate box into his hands. He waits for a nod before tearing that wrapper off, his excitement shortly dwindles as he finds the leather glove and white and red ball.

“Thought we could go watch a baseball game.”

He looks at the tickets only recognizing the Yankee’s as a big name team and nothing else. Homelander can almost taste his anxiety. This was not what he envisioned, it was completely wrong, voices yelling at him asking why the child wasn’t running after him or why he wasn’t jumping with excitement at his sight! He was the world’s greatest everything and the kid just seemed confused. The kid offered a polite smile and said thank you, taking his present and placing it neatly on the coffee table, as Homelander tried so hard… begging himself to not cry, that voice soothed him telling him he had missed the moment their fingers grazed each other.

“Can’t believe you know Homelander, dad.” the kid took his phone out– can we take a selfie none of my friends will ever believe me!”

That left a bitter taste on his tongue, his first interaction was no different from a paid one, he obliged putting his finest smile, his bitterness washed away as he felt those brown locks tickle his chin, as he took a scent of hypoallergenic detergent and dove soap, the little bit of sweat behind his ears, he could feel how warm his boy was, it was short lived but it lingered… etched on what little skin he’d touched, it soothed him, it made it so real, he could burst.

Ryan was his own… he wasn’t a figment of his imagination… he was flesh and blood, he looked healthy… he was tall and his teeth were straight but above all– he had his eyes and a chirpy voice.

“Mister Homelander needs to go back to work, he was just stopping by, right?”

“...William…”

“lol he called you William” he giggled– thanks for the present!”

“No problem, my pleasure. So do I pick you guys up for the game or meet you at the stadium?”

Butcher tensed up, knowing he really had no choice but to give him an answer, unable to kick him out.

“What do you think buddy? Wanna go check it out? They’re good seats.”

Ryan studied his father’s face seeing how forceful his calmness was, Ryan who only wanted to erase that drunken mess from the other day, looked towards the Supe and how his eyes glistened as they waited for a response.

“Why not!” He said cheerily– I’ve never been to a game before.”

“That’s settled! Now why don’t you go take this to your room and let me and ol’ Homelander have a chat.” Butcher could scream.

The kid isn’t oblivious to the sudden tension between them, brushing it off to bad timing.

“He looks a lot like you.”

Homelander comes back to earth as he’s spoken, giving Butcher his attention once more.

“He… goddammit Becca…” He sniffed, covering his face behind his palms, sinking on his couch as he processed it all– please leave… I’ll be there. I bet you won’t leave me the fuck alone otherwise.”

“I’m glad we are on the same page there, William.” His voice is oddly soft– he’s a lot taller than in the pictures… he doesn’t like baseball does he?”

“You might’ve well invited him to go watch Golf!”

“I can… I can get some other tickets… soccer, you guys have a passport right?”

“He doesn't, we never left the states and am not taking a bloody plane to go watch a match with a stranger.”

“I’m not a stranger! I’m Homelander, the most famous person in the whole world! Can get you a copy of my biography if ya like so you can get to know me.” He says with a sneer– can I stay for dinner then?”

Butcher can only describe his emotion as exasperated.

“I was joking…” He says with his prettiest smile showing his fangs as he pretended not to be hurt– see you next week.”

He lingers at the door, despite his eyes looking into the gardens Butcher can tell he’s listening to those behind him, he’s gone and all that remains is the wide open door.

The days go by excruciatingly fast, in a blink he’s in front of his bathroom mirror trimming his beard, it had been a while since he had bothered to keep tidy, ashamed to have looked this disheveled during his wife’s funeral, outside his bathroom door is Ryan who seems to be more well put than he is talking about wanting to check out some spots while they are in New York if they can after the game sounding so normal it scared him– kids were resilient creatures he said to himself, but he worried that the boy was pretending to be alright. The in-laws had visited, M.M. and his family had stopped by and even help clean up (more like Marvin had simply not stopped himself once he spotted a few too many dirty plates for his taste) he couldn’t say the same about himself until this moment.

Mallory gave him a call and asked him ‘what was his fucking problem?’ whatever he had given her, she’d ended up being called to speak with not just the head of the CIA but the department of Homeland security, she was now without doubt being watched, told to keep quiet and some more.

Calling Butcher was dangerous hence the burner number, he couldn’t see a single suspicious car outside, it would be hard to hide when there was only miles of greenery.

He took a sip of whisky trying to wash away the anxiety of being washed, disconnecting the house phone just to feel safer.

Ryan made no mention about how low the radio volume was, about how quiet he was on the way there, trying not to think of the endless bickering and chatting between his parents, his mother’s scent lingering in the air, her dried coffee tumbler still on the cup holder, an abandoned sweater still in the backseat that filled the space with fading vanilla kisses, Ryan tries not to notice the ghostly whispers in the air, louder than the aircon and the quiet music.

He speaks very little, just grumbling about traffic and parking, complaining until he’s left the car wondering if the parking fee had been too steep for he had never bothered before.

“I can’t see him…” Ryan whispers tugging on Butcher’s shirt.

His cheeks were red knowing he had never once bothered to organize any of this, he simply showed up, not wanting to believe any of this was real, the tickets certainly looked real and the bustling crowd grew bigger and bigger, just a sea of branded clothes and loud people.

It feels hot and heavy as it presses on his shoulder, jolting awake as his body is pushed back effortlessly.

“William you came.” he sounds so happy it hurts.

He hadn’t expected to see him like this, taking a minute to process his appearance, the oversized baseball bomber jacket did very little to hide his thin frame, he expected the padded suit to have been merely ascending his physique not inventing it, Homelander mellow smile died quickly as he felt that man’s piercing gaze on him.

“Wasn’t sure ‘bout the traffic so we got here early, didn’t we?”

“I was gonna say my meeting ran late.”

Both men stared at each other awkwardly, waiting for the child’s response.

With a smile from the boy they both took that as their sign.

He watched from behind as Homelander stood closer and closer to Butcher, how he directed him across the building as if he knew every turn and nook of the stadium, how friendly he was being with him, how much attention he was giving him and his father.

For a game that he had no understanding of, he would admit it was nice that the supe was a walking wiki, both Ryan and Butcher expend most of the time listening to his explanations, it didn’t come off as somebody enamored with his voice, but as someone who wanted to share and they were happy to hear him, it made Homelander’s heart tingle as they asked him to explain what just happened before them or why people were booing upstairs.

Ryan and Butcher could only guess what was going on in his head but he was not scary at all.

he was nice.

“Thanks, I think the kid liked it.” he turned to him as they waited for Ryan to come out the toilet– it was good to get out of the house.”

Butcher didn’t want to admit he’d had a good time even if it was all gibberish to him.

“I got us some dinner reservations…”

“Normal people get full after some steak topped fries and fried chicken subs, sorry but I think we have to pass–

“You and me tomorrow.”

“Bit too early for a rebound.”

Homelander blushed, realizing how it had come out as.

Butcher tried to brush it off with a chuckle turning awkward as he realized this guy wasn’t his buddy so not used to his banter.

“Discussing Ryan! As if you’ve be so lucky.” Homelander fixed his jacket– I’ll pick you up at 7 tomorrow night. Also tell your friend Mallory she has nothing to worry about, just tell her not to be nosey.”

“I gather this Compound V shite is–

“Shhh... Hope you like Indian.”

“I’m english mate I sure luv me a tikka massala…”

“Good.”

#my fic tag #homelander #billy butcher #billy butcher x homelander #butchlander #personal #cant believe it took me almsot 3 montsh to write this

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recurring-polynya · 1 year

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I'm sorry if this comes off weird, but I wanted to ask why you seem to not want to know about Can't Fear Your Own World? Do you dislike it, or it's nature as a post-series work?

So I've read a couple of the light novels and they simply do not spark joy. The plots sort of wander around, the characterization has very little to say, and they are full of what I'll call "lore dumps", where there will be a paragraph of exposition that's not integrated into the story in any sort of natural way and is frequently of the "thanks, I hate it" variety. Even though they may be "Kubo approved", or include stuff that he came up with, they completely lack his storytelling skill or the charm of his character voices. There are usually about 3-5 bits that I find charming per light novel, and about five to ten times as many that I find aggravating or off-putting (or just plain tedious or boring).

I think that a big part of it for me is that I read a lot of fanfiction and while there is an awful lot of mediocre fanfic, I have also read a lot of brilliant stories written by people who have given a ton of thought to the characters and the worldbuilding and out-of-canon adventures that these characters might go on. To me, the light novels I have read feel like finding a story on AO3 that has all my favorite tags and a cool story description, and then it turns out that I absolutely hate the writing style and direction. It feels like adding insult to injury that on top of that, I am somehow obligated to consider them canon.

To address CFYOW specifically, it does not contain any of the characters I care about. I mean, I like Shuuhei, but what I like about Shuuhei is his relationship with Izuru, Momo, and Renji. I like his job at the Seireitei Communication. I like his guitar playing and boring cooking and the goofy outfits he wears in splash pages. I could not care less about him getting bankai. I've said this before, but I would like relatively very few characters to get bankai, and he is not on my shortlist. It feels very shoehorned to me.

The plot sounds convoluted and tedious as hell. I already found the Fullbringers tedious enough when I had to read about them in the manga, I do not want to spend one more minute of my life thinking about Fullbringers.

Tokinada seems mildly interesting, but I'm pretty sure I got as much as I care to know about him from reading thru some BBS screenshots.

I hate literally every piece of Soul King-related lore I have heard come out of CFYOW. It makes me literally enjoy Bleach less.

I read a fan translation of the first couple of chapters when they came out and it barely kept my attention. I briefly considered that maybe the professional translation might be a little more readable (I say this with all love and respect for the translation I read, which was trying to keep it very close to the original), but then I have heard that Viz butchered the translation, so I feel like there's no winning there.

It's just not for me. If it were a fanfiction, I would look at the tags and description and simply keep scrolling. I wish peace and love on planet Earth to everyone who enjoyed it and any of the other light novels, but it's not something I wish to spend my time and energy on. There are so many parts and pieces of Bleach--the manga, the anime, the movies, the filler arcs, the novels, databooks, random facts Kubo spills in interviews, fanworks, etc, and I've always been of the opinion that as fans, we all have the right to pick and choose which ones we want to consume and what we want to include in our own personal canons. Further, because CFYOW is post-canon, it literally affects nothing if I ignore it. Yeah, there are a few interesting crumbs in there, like the stuff about Ikkaku and his sister and I think there's an off-hand mention of the Six Hearts gang going to the beach, but it's simply not worth it to me to read through over a thousand pages of something that I am otherwise just not interested in.

#if i have to read a thousand pages about hisagi he better be spending a significant part of it kissing kira on the mouth #and it is my understanding that this doesn't happen even once in CFYOW

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golbrocklovely · 2 years

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U know what really grinds my gears, all the chicks Colby "hangs" out with look like silicone copies of each other, it's like dude u say all LA girls are the same blah blah blah, that he wants special or different, well boo diversify ur self, we don't ever see him go out of that unrealistic view of the same carbon copy, I'd love to see him with a Latina or another poc, he will never find someone if he keeps going for the same old letches, sorry for the rant but I use to be the same until I broaden my horizons, but still haven't found my Gomez😔

i'm just gonna say this, and if you don't agree with me, totally fine. but just hear me out.

first off, colby himself has never posted any of the girls he's hung out with. at least not in recent years.

secondly, all the photos we've ever seen of colby with a girl are from the girl's accounts.

so… imagine how many girls he hangs out with or hooks up with that don't post him. don't tag him. don't acknowledge him. bc there are plenty of ppl that don't want clout, don't want fans, and would rather be anonymous. especially if they are in the industry he's in, but aren't influencers/celebs themselves.

also also, i'm not saying you're saying this, but i feel the need to mention this bc i've had similar conversations before and i keep forgetting to say it.

while i get thinking that every girl he gets around with is an insta model or just generally really pretty, i think it's good to remember that just bc they might be those things, doesn't mean they're vapid or have no emotional depth. they are just like me and you, the difference is they won a genetic lotta win that some of us didn't get to be apart of in the first place lol

just bc a pretty girl is pretty does not mean she's not more than that.

i was bullied from the ages of 5 all the way thru 18/19 bc of my looks. i'm gonna struggle the rest of my life with my self-esteem. a lot of the ppl that made fun of me were those that were technically prettier than me. however, it's good to remember that attractive ppl are equally as much of a person as i am. that all the internal conflicts, flaws, emotions, memories i've had, pretty ppl have too. they are just as deep as i am. i don't have to be bitter towards attractive ppl just bc i was tortured by some when i was growing up. i think it's easy to agree with the old saying that "pretty ppl don't have to have a personality" but in reality, they do have one. some ppl just never take the time to see it.

tho, that doesn't negate pretty privilege, i'm just saying that it's good to remember that there is more than meets the eye.

#ask #personal #cb ll

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sungbeam · 2 years

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XNONIE PRESENT (FINALLY) !!!

hi beam! college has been kicking my butt recently ☹️ idk how ppl do it but i'm dragging myself through the week right now LMAO

i don't see anything 😀 when i search up my asks 😀 so i unfortunately 😀 have a very vague 😀 idea of our last convo 😀

but i DO remember that you asked about dc!! i'm glad u asked b/c i'm actually trying to get into dc right now! i'm watching titans season 1 on hbo max, recently watched black adam, saw ww84, & saw the new batman movie a while ago! beast boy is kinda 😍💖💕💗💞 in titans HEHEHE- my favorite dc characters rn are him & starfire but i really wanna delve into the franchise more!! who are ur dc biases so far 🙏 (yes we'll be using kpop terminology for non-kpop fandoms from now on)

also i have NOT listened to 28 reasons by seulgi yet b/c of my schedule i feel like such a fake reveluv but i'm looking into that 😭 AND YES GIVE CRAVITY SOME LOVE ON PARTY ROCK <3 i'm taeyoung biased ever since i saw his tiktoks (all their tiktoks are iconic tbh they keep up w/ trends LOL)

HOW HAVE U BEEN BTW?? and are u excited for wakanda forever? i can't believe its coming so soon alreadyyyy 😟❗️

XNONIE !!! BFF !!! I'M SO SORRY FOR MY LATE REPLY I'VE JUST LACKED SO MUCH ENERGY TO EVEN REPLY TO ASKS THIS WEEK (´Д⊂ヽ but i was so excited to see u active and alive akcnekfnek idk how people do it either tbh :') like i felt that so hard when u said ur practically dragging urself thru the week like me too dude, me too 😔 LMAO SOMETHING IS UP W TUMBLR TAGS 🗿🗿🗿 as there always is tbh, but i went thru and found my latest response so i'll link it here BAHHAHA

AHHHH DC YESYES !!! i actually haven't watched the live action titans series yet :0 but i follow ryan potter on instagram so i've def seen some stuff for it !! he's so hot tho so true 😩😩😩 i kinda wish he was casted as nightwing/dick grayson cuz he would've made a really good one, but the current one i think fits as well :') ahh yes i actually am not the greatest fan of dc movies lmao just cuz their animated tv shows r just top notch and so much better imo but i did enjoy the first wonder woman and robert pattinson's the batman !! ooh my dc biases? it's prob the bat boys AHAHAHHA i'm writing an au inspired by them actually rn hehe so basically nightwing/dick grayson, red hood/jason todd, and red robin/tim drake, but i am also particularly fond of roy harper/speedy and robin/damian wayne @_@ they all make my mind go brrrr (wbu tho 👀👀)

AHHHHH WAKANDA FOREVER I HAVENT WATCHED IT YET I FEEL SO SAD ☹️☹️☹️ it's cuz college has also been kicking my ass and watching marvel movies is a thing my family does together and it's just not the same going to see it in theaters w anyone else :( so i've been holding back skcnekfn have u seen it tho :0 i'm also so very excited for quantumania !!! (ﾉ´∀｀*) IT LOOKS SO SO SO GOOD SKFNKENFKD I LOVE PAUL RUDD PLS GIVE THAT MAN AN OSCAR RN

okok i think i also was gonna bring up the fact that i wanted to write another mcu au for svt?? like ik we were talking abt the xmen au, but i was thinking abt making minghao scarlet witch and basically yn is like the one person who truly saw him and when he lost u, all hell broke loose (like in wandavision), and so it's like him recreating a life w u while his friends on the outside r trying to break him out of it before the stinky government folks do skcnwidn

#sungbeam strikes again #xnonie 💥

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rowdy-kitty · 4 years

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new oc :)

#going full cringe and making a fan child #I've been a mIp next gen fanartist for the past like 5 years what else did you expect #idk if I should tag this h #count duckula #let's hope it doesn't show up in the tags #if it does and you found this while looking thru the tag I am so sorry

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intergalacticaquarium · 2 years

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Despicable headcanons for eddie munson

Terrible and (sfw) filthy headcanons for eddie munson that make him my dream man

None of this is ironic

- wears all those layers bc he gets cold really really easily and every time he starts to shiver and his teeth start to chatter at like 50 degrees he is completely humiliated

-only remembers to brush his hair about once a week. Usually he just kinda pats it down until it's the right shape. The mats add volume

-DEFINITELY cuts his own bangs

-either got arrested when he was like 17 and booked it into the forest and hopper was like whatever dude I'm busy and he broke the handcuffs in a very stupid and dangerous way

-OR he just found em in the woods bc as somebody that lives near a lot of woods sometimes you find weird shit in there. One time I found super old car with bullet holes in it.

-speaking of yknow sometimes ur in public and you'll see a piece of clothing or a hair tie or a water bottle that somebody obviously left behind and you know not to touch it bc gross? Eddie doesn't know not to touch it. He touches it and picks it up and takes it home and fucking might wash it and definitely wears it

-found his vest on the side of the road in a puddle and took it home like a Charlie brown Christmas tree

-gets no bitches sorry girlies. Extremely surprised to get one bitch but she's a slug woman too so it's tru love. First and foremost what he wants in a partner is for them to be the type to also eat dry cereal by the fistful

- if he scrolled thru the Eddie x reader tag and read the descriptions he would be terrified and would need to look up a lot of terms and would need to go lie down for a second after all that information

-calling Eddie on a bluff is extremely easy and extremely satisying

-full of love

-cries really easily but sometimes that's bc his eyes are huge and it's windy and he's been sitting in the dark for a long time

-has waaaaay too lax a policy on what's OK to eat after you drop it on the floor

-has really bad undiagnosed untreated adhd. Cannot focus unless he's invested, will say the first thing that comes into his brain and regret it instantly and its either something wildly off topic or a response to something you said 3 minutes ago

-sometimes absentmindedly chews on his hair and it gets hard on the ends. To his credit he knows that this is gross

-hey why am I getting turned on writing this thats weird right

-you'd expect him to have like a million stupid fancy bongs that he won't shut up about but actually he has like 4 and only uses one and it's the fucking grodiest yellow tinted black bongwater that hasn't been changed in ages resin inside that looks like fuckin bushes bong you have ever seen and will not use it. One time you steal it and clean it out with an entire bottle of rubbing alcohol. It's still kinda gross when ur done and he genuinely would silently hold it against you for years

-uses his jeans as a napkin

-can't remember the last time he washed his jeans. Says you're not supposed to wash them but put them in the freezer. He does not put them in the freezer either

-smells like cigarettes. This one isn't sexy its just gross if somebody smokes weed and cigarettes they smell like cigarettes if somebody wears cologne and smoke a certain number of cigarettes that is all they smell like and it's kind of overwhelming until you literally air out and febreeze his whole fucking trailer and wardrobe to put a dent in it

-he got those holes in his jeans by falling over onto concrete really hard while trying to carry like 20 things at once inside

-very strangely patchy chest hair

-insomnia and watches a lot of infomercials because of it

-sometimes tastes things that aren't food if he's curious and nobody's around. One time he did lick a frog and it tasted weird and it was bad but he will always know what it tasted like so who's to say if it was a success or not

-laughs at horror movies but gets scared and jumpy for the rest of the night

-eats like an animal or Brad pitt in an oceans movie. If he can eat it with his hands by the fistful he will.

-I wonder if anybody can get which of these are autobiographical and how badly I'm giving myself away rn

-sometimes says and does things he saw his metal musician idols doing without knowing what they meant and being confused when confronted

-has AT LEAST one very badly scarred stick n poke disaster

-there are a lot of these and I honestly could go on probably indefinitely so I'm gonna stop now but every time I read a fic where he's too sexy and fuckable I'm gonna add 2 more to balance it out.

-one last one the wallet chain isn't for fashion it's for fashion AND bc he loses his wallet a lot

#stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson headcanons #stranger things headcanons #its 1 am i woke up at 530 and i feel unhinged rn #and weirdly motivated to download tinder again #unfortunately my inexplicable attraction to soaking wet and slightly pitful men does not extend to real life #that would make things too easy #unless they do it in a very specific way and im back in #and that way is to have greasy long hair and wear a cool jacket OOPS

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pengosolvent · 2 years

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I find myself going back to the 223 song you posted last year and I find it speaking to me all the time, or rather maybe just my OCs. I don't know if the intention was a romantic vibe of sorts, but It's resonated that way with me. I can't help but think of lovers who have spent a long time away from one another and reunite once again with an embrace. Maybe I'm wrong, but if you're willing to give a few details behind those lyrics, I'd be forever thankful for it.

I'd say your interpretation is some of the feelings in the song yes ... Sort of read more tag since long

King Deer and Bravocat are “lovers” (partners) but they become separated 223 is about King Deer's inner feelings He's generally really composed and a lot more "functional" seeming than bravocat is So while bravocat wears his ... odd behavior on his sleeve, king deer doesn't exactly do that he's a lot more reserved so 223 is a lot of feelings he doesn't tend to share at all the chaotic aspects of those feelings there is a lot of pain in relation to... trying to find a place to belong or feel cared about I wrote about this a bit on patreon a while ago, so i guess i'll try to take that and edit parts of it ---

“meaning: spoilers now for bravocats story this is the equivalent song to 224 on the bravocat album, but for king deer a big theme of bravocat's story is how opposite yet the same bravo and KD are 224 is essentially how bravo handles stress... everything feels slow motion, lethargic, not understandable but the stress is essentially.. short not that bravo gets over things quickly, but it's not really truly eliciting a reaction in bravo king deer though, while appearing calm and positive, thinks way too hard under the surface about whatever is stressing him while bravo is not very charming or sociable, and thus doesn't worry about that (or he does but not to a big extent), king deer is very charismatic and ... functional in society to put it lightly compared to bravo however, KD is very focused on always giving a pleasant presentation of himself to others when stress arises, it tends to bubble in KD. he never blows up, instead works towards doing whatever he can to fix whatever is stressing him which, in a sense is good but it can be limiting when the stress would involve him speaking up about something that is unpleasant to talk about the lyrics in english is representative of KD talking to bravo the concept of "god" in bravocats story is more so the concept of finding meaning/reason and if such a thing as meaning/reason even exists

"Believe true, and know this:

i notice your heart's remiss.

Mine is too, but don't dismiss,

what I've learned wants no kiss." KD is trying to support bravocat, basically saying "look i know you're hurt and believe me i get that cuz i've been hurt too, but don't push me away. i'm not trying to get anything out of you." the last line specifically about the kiss is referencing that neither bravo nor KD are particularly comfortable with intimacy in different ways. they are both schizoid ( I am writing from experience in different lenses thru them i guess?) and while bravo has many of the negative traits and KD more of the "functional" ones, they both recognize and understand the way the other views the world (to varying degrees) but that is still frightening in a way. becoming close to someone, and knowing that, to most people, this would mean "romance" and neither of you have a concept of it and actively fear it i still don't understand romance as a concept anyway, the point is KD is trying to encourage bravo to not shut him out... bravo can be very self isolating and self-destructive sometimes depending on what he's focused on

"I know it's not my show

and I've been last to slow my hand,

yet god is not what I have found,

and I will not devise around this. "

another remark by KD to try to support bravo this one is basically something like... "listen, i know i'm not you so i can't understand your exact struggles and stresses, and i know i'm not perfect and i've probably hurt you without realizing sometimes... but that isn't inherently a bad sign. i haven't found this concept of meaning youre looking for, i've had to make my own meaning and i won't try to sugarcoat that, but i am here for you." [...] anyway, while KD tries to be pleasant, he also doesn't like to lie or give "disney" advice a big part of bravos stresses comes from not understanding if he has a place in the world or what it even means to be alive that sounds pretentious i dont know how to talk about my stories but, KD's balance of optimism and genuine firmness resonates with bravo and tends to calm him the spanish lyrics are more... KD's stresses with himself [Translation to english] " A smile doesn't fall, like the sun never fails. It doesn't matter what I feel, or what I dream, that's just how it goes. " KD is essentially a people pleaser and he will rather remove himself calmly from a situation than confront people. he's not a pushover per se, but he isn't one to stand up for himself unless he absolutely has to. sometimes this can make him feel trapped... and its a big part of why the bravocat comic even happens KD essentially wishes he could be superman and do everything for everyone and please everyone, but thats obviously impossible.. but he still tries too hard to go for that and he also tries to lessen any bad news ... sometimes by omission entirely which is its own can of worms”

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aka-a-shii · 4 years

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Day Out || Akaashi K.

Akaashi x F!Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: nothing just fluffiness :3

a/n: i am so sorry that this took so long ㅠㅠㅠㅠ i had been caught up with work and studying but here’s the last piece for the Oya Oya Dads Squad. i hope you love and enjoy this one.. thank you for your patience! 😘

the sun rays peeked through the blinds illuminating Akaashi’s peaceful sleeping face, you slowly bent over to his side and planted a soft kiss onto his cheek.

“wake up, sleepyhead”

Akaashi groaned in response as his eyes started to flutter open. he squints his eyes as the sunlight reflected on his gunmetal blue orbs.

“good morning, angel.” he greeted huskily as sleep still evident in his voice.

you gently press a kiss on his lips as he smiled thru the kiss.

“why are you still here? isn’t your appointment by 9am?” he inquired when he pulled away as his eyes landed on the clock at the bedside table indicating its already 8:30am.

you smiled at him. “Keita was kinda cranky when he woke up earlier so i had to tuck him back to bed again.”

he got up from the bed and wrapped his arms around you, his hands resting on your baby bump.

“you should go now or you will be late.” he stated. you gently placed your hand above his as you reached your free hand to ruffle his hair.

“will you be okay without me?” you asked.

he tightened his hold onto you and nuzzled his face onto the crook of your neck. “of course, princess. so don’t worry and just relax.” Akaashi reassures you.

he walks you to the front door and with a final hug and a gentle kiss on your lips, you left for your appointment.

Akaashi then trotted towards the kitchen to make breakfast for him and keita, he wore his midnight blue apron and reached for the ingredients from the pantry.

he was mixing the batter when he heard little padding of footsteps towards the kitchen, when he turned around, he saw his 4y/o toddler clutching his owl blankie on one hand and his owl plushie on the other.

“good morning, bud! you hungry?” he greets his son.

Keita gently nodded as he rubbed sleep from his eyes. “where’s mommy?” he asked.

“mommy went out to see the doctor.” Akaashi replied as he mixed the batter. he was then responded with silence and when he turned to face his son, he was met by keita’s glassy eyes.

“i-is mommy sick?” his voice almost cracking. Akaashi then turned the stove off and rushed towards the boy and scooped him up. “sshhh don’t cry.” he wiped the tears on his son’s cheek. “mommy is not sick, okay? she just went for a check up to see if the baby is growing healthy in her tummy.” he shushed his son.

“m-mommy and the b-baby will be o-okay?” he sniffled against his dad’s chest. “yes of course! mommy and baby are strong.” Akaashi reassures him.

once he had calmed down, he placed him on his chair and ruffled his hair. “why don’t we eat breakfast first then we’ll go meet mommy later?” Keita nodded enthusiastically in response as Akaashi went back to finishing the pancakes.

—

they happily munched on their breakfast, basking with each other’s presence as they planned their trip for later. Keita being excited to go out on a day-out with his dad after so long.

Keita was Akaashi’s pride and joy. he was so ecstatic when you came home one day with the news of being pregnant with your first child. as keita grew, Akaashi had already thought about having a second child which is why baby number two is on its way. Akaashi himself knew that being an only child is somewhat lonely and he doesn’t want Keita to feel the same as he grow older.

after getting ready, Akaashi finally adjusted Keita’s owl hat and headed out of your humble abode.

“where do you wanna go first?” Akaashi asked as he placed Keita on the car seat at the back of his car.

your son looked so enthralled as he spoke with enthusiasm. “bookstore!”

Akaashi lets out a chuckle and ruffle his son’s hair. “okay buddy.”

the drive to the bookstore was short yet the father and son duo enjoyed every bit of it. and as Akaashi led his son inside, he didn’t missed how sparkles on Keita’s eyes glistened at awe. “daddy! books! lots of them!” he excitedly grabbed his father’s sleeve as he pulled him to the children’s books section.

Keita got his love for books from Akaashi and its not the only thing he got from him. he was exactly the splitting image of Akaashi Keiji, from the gunmetal blue eyes, to the messy jet black hair and even the little mannerism of fidgeting his fingers when anxious. all good genes inherited from Akaashi.

they stopped in front of one of the bookshelves and keita took a book. he showed it to his dad with stars emitting from his eyes that definitely matches his dad’s. “do you want to get that one?” Akaashi asked and Keita nods furiously. “don’t you want more?” he added and keita just shook his head and gazed on the book he’s holding. “i just want this one daddy!” he beamed. the book keita took was a picture book of “The Little Prince”, you personal favorite. and at an early age, Keita had begun reading as one of his past time activities. you would tell him the story from hours to end and it never fails to amaze him. which is why he grew to love the story of “The Little Prince” as well.

as soon as Akaashi took the book, they roamed each aisle in the bookstore, scanning some new releases that might caught your husband’s liking. and when he found a book they went to the cashier and paid for their purchase. the old lady behind the cashier took notice that Akaashi brought his son. “he looks exactly just like you.” she commented and handed him their books. “he surely does!” he replied with a big smile on his face and took their books. the both of them bid their goodbyes to the old lady and headed to their final stop to meet you.

its was a warm and cozy cafe where you and Akaashi had your first date during highschool. the place held so many memories with you and your husband, and now with your little family. they settled on a booth near the window where your regular spot is. Akaashi sipping his coffee as Keita downed his blueberry crepes. the chiming bells caught their attention as you made your way into the cafe. waddling with your 5-month belly to their booth, Akaashi immediately stood up and guided you, placing a kiss on top of your head. “how was the check up?” he inquired and sat you on the chair besides his. “the doctor said she’s growing healthy and we have nothing to worry about.” you reached for Keita’s hair and ruffled it. “she also said that i just need to continue taking the supplements for the both of us.”

Akaashi smiled at that. “that’s good to hear.” and he rubbed your belly gently. turning your attention to your son, you asked him how his day went with his dad. “daddy bought me a book! let’s read it when we get home mommy!” he excitedly stated. “read it to me and my baby sister!” and that made the baby girl in your tummy to kick which made you jolt for a second. Akaashi noticed this and asked you if you’re okay. “the baby kicked!” you said and immediately the worry washing away from your husband’s handsome face. Keita jumped out from his seat and rushed towards you. “mommy are you okay?” concern all over his face. you reassured him you were and that his sister just moved in your tummy.

you gently reached for his tiny hand and placed it on your belly where his baby sisster kicked. and with that, the baby in you kicked again and Keita definitely felt it on how his eyes widened as a big smile plastered over his face. “the baby is moving!” he exclaimed. which made you and Akaashi to laugh.

Akaashi stood up and volunteered to order for you, while you and Keita stayed and continued to talk about their trip to the bookstore. Keta told you about the nice old lady back there who was so nice to him and how he is really excited to read the book with you when you get home. despite being the splitting image of your husband, Keita’s personality was more like you, bright and jolly, but sometimes he also act like his father which makes him a mixture of you both.

Akaashi approaches your booth with a tray in his hands, a cup of chai tea and a slice of blueberry cheesecake just like you wanted. you muttered a thanks as he slides back to his his seat enjoying the company of his two most favorite persons in the world. a smile grazing his handsome features as he gazed lovingly at the two of you, slowly he reached for your and gently stroke the wedding band adorning your finger. oh how lucky he was to be your husband he thought, and he can’t help the swelling of his when you locked eyes with him and smiled back at him. he would never exchange anything in this world for what he has now and what the future holds for him and his little family.

Akaashi mouthed a soft “i love you” and held your hand tighter, reciprocating his gestture, you then gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“i love you too.”

you and Keita is his universe that he’s ever grateful to have.

Taglist: @whootwhoot @tsvvkki @mirikusashes @curiouslilbeast @saku-kun @chesley-cant-deal @clara-geekhime @michelepiekenma @raineedayze @kellesvt @lollypop-lam @kyomihann @doodleniella @akasuns

strikethrough = can’t be tagged

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whywishesarehorses · 3 years

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Limitless - 2021 Pacific Crest Trail Ride Through

3 days ago, on April 7th, Jess Goodlett started the ride of her dreams - a 2,650 mile ride of the entirety of the Pacific Crest Trail, border to border. She is attempting this ride alone, with two BLM mustangs she has trained herself. Jess is part of the Limitless team, a group of women going on various adventures to prove that the things women can accomplish in pursuit of their dreams are Limitless. This ride is fantastic, and Jess is still sourcing financial support. She has venmo, PayPal, and merch set up if you are interested in helping out!

This is similar in spirit to the idea of Unbranded, and Jess has been in contact with some of that team for advice.

Below I've shared a blog post she wrote discussing the trip and her plans! Under a readmore because it's LONG.

Time to Make this Official.

Yes, the ride is on.

I am planning a thru-ride on the Pacific Crest Trail for 2021.

My name is Jess Goodlett. I am 25 years old, and I have been a part of Limitless since the beginning.

📷Photo of the Limitless group from 2017

People seem to say that I am pretty outgoing and adventurous. When I set my mind on a goal, I definitely become very determined to make it happen. Most of my family and friends were not too surprised when I dropped the news that I was going to continue the plan to attempt a thru-ride on the Pacific Crest Trail. This trail has been on my mind for years, and it was actually how Limitless got its start.

My trail name is Raindance (this is how I got my trail name), and these are my BLM Mustangs, Makani (10-year-old bay roan mare) and Malana (7-year-old chestnut mare).

Also, here is little Zendaya. She is too young to join in on the fun next year, but maybe she will get the chance to tag along in the near future.

📷Zendaya (Daya for short) is my youngest mustang. I hope that she will be able to join in our an adventure in a few years. She is only 3 right now, so she still has some growing to do.

Here [is a photo] of me from a few years back, when I was able to set foot on a small section of the Pacific Crest Trail. This is the moment that sparked up the passion for the trail again after dealing with nostalgia from the group’s ride on the Colorado Trail in 2017.

I had convinced my dad and uncle to drive a rental car up some narrow mountain roads just to be able to set foot on part of the Pacific Crest Trail near Big Bear Lake. It felt magical getting the chance to hike a very small section of the trail. It was like getting a small taste of a big dream. My time on the trail may have only lasted 30 minutes, but it made me realize that I was still very passionate about this trail even after my experience on the Colorado Trail.

📷Repping Limitless while dreaming of a thru-ride on the Pacific Crest Trail.

Making Plans

The plans have gone back and forth a few times, but the goal is to set out on trail in the Spring of 2021. For me, there are a lot of emotions tied in with this thu-ride. I am sure there will be a lot of time for reflection on the days leading up to the trail, including each and every day spent out there with my horses.

This is a big trek. Every time I look at the maps, I feel excited. Maybe a little nervous. But I am focused on what is ahead. The days are flying by fast, and I know the day that I head out to California will be here sooner than I can even imagine. A lot of my time right now is being spent with the horses, and any additional free time goes toward researching the trail.

Let’s talk about the trail.

📷Hike at Kendall Katwalk (part of the PCT) near Seattle, Washington near Snowqualmie Pass

What is the Pacific Crest Trail?

📷Map of the Pacific Crest Trail

The Pacific Crest Trail is a border to border trail that starts at the Mexican border and travels through California, Oregon, and Washington to the Canadian border. The trail is 2,650 miles long, and it is open to both hikers and equestrians.

There are only a handful of completed equestrian thru-rides that are documented. I am sure there are a few more that have gone unmentioned online, but to be honest, it is much more likely for people to plan a thru-hike along the Pacific Crest Trail. Us thru-riders are very few.

For those who may not know, a thru-hike or thru-ride is a long distance trail that is completed in one go (typically one season) – from one end of the trail to other end. This differs from section hiking where one may just complete small sections of the trail instead of the entire length. Though, what a thru-hike or thru-ride is for one person may differ slightly for another. Sometimes trail conditions during a certain year results in hikers or riders having to alter the original path on the trail to detour things like a fire or trail closure. But this does not take away from the fact that the trail was completed if they reach the end. As they say, hike your own hike, or in this situation – ride your own ride.

On the note of section hiking and riding, the Pacific Crest Trail is also a very popular option for those looking to just complete certain sections. According to the Pacific Crest Trail Association (PCTA), there are a total of 29 sections: 18 sections in California, 6 sections in Oregon, and 5 in Washington.

Elevation ranges greatly throughout the entire trail, along with a vast variety of terrain. The Pacific Crest Trail travels over many mountain passes and through many wilderness areas, national forests and parks.

More information can be found on the PCTA official website.

The Difficulties of Planning a Thru-Ride

Taking on a thru ride comes with a lot of its own types of challenges that hikers will not have to face. Adding in one or two horses on trail adds its own difficulty especially when it comes to the logistics.

As I am researching the trail, I am trying to answer questions such as: How are the water sources in this section? Where can I camp? Are there any grazing restrictions? Any trail concerns?

How will I resupply? Where are some places I may be able to pull the horses off trail to rest them? Who will be my emergency contacts? And the list goes on.

I cannot really plan too far ahead with any set plans, but one of my biggest obstacles will be the snow. Trail conditions can change daily, and I have no idea how the winter is going to look at this moment. Because of the length of the trail, some decisions will not be made until I am on trail. I expect many unplanned things to happen. That is just the way it is, and that is why the focus right now is to study and learn the trail as much as I can.

📷Photo of Makani from our 2017 ride on the Colorado Trail.

Why the Pacific Crest Trail?

It was 2013 when I first heard about the Pacific Crest Trail. I was actually scrolling through Facebook when I came across a post in an equestrian Facebook group where a few people were talking about long distance trails. The main topic was riding horses from coast to coast ,but then the Pacific Crest Trail was brought up in the discussion. It was the first time I had heard of an established border to border trail. I was very interested and after a few quick searches online, I quickly became obsessed with this trail and the idea of completing a border to border trail horseback.

Though, I knew I was not ready at that time to take on such a big adventure. I kept the idea stored away in my mind. It would sneak back into my thoughts every so often. When it did, I would spend hours researching this trail and looking for any information I could find for equestrians. I told myself that one day… one day, I would ride the Pacific Crest Trail.

It wasn’t until 2015, when I decided to reach out to some people about the trail. I talked with Gillian Larson, who had completed the trail horseback in 2014. She has been a big inspiration to me and to many others. Over the years, she has now completed the Pacific Crest Trail two times horseback. She has also completed the 800 mile Arizona Trail, the 500 mile Colorado Trail, and the 3,100 mile Continental Divide Trail, which is another border to border trail. (Seriously, check out her Instagram. Her photos and videos of the trails are absolutely breathtaking!)

I also spoke with Ben Masters of Unbranded who encouraged me to get out and “just do it.”

This is when I started to think about friends who may be interested in riding with me. Initially, I reached out to Devan Horn about riding a border to border trail. Devan was the first person I ever thought of to even contact about a thru-ride. She is adventurous and possibly the only person I knew at the time who would have been up for such a challenge. I mentioned to her that I was interested specifically in riding the Pacific Crest Trail. We talked briefly about a long distance trek, and we told each other that we would keep in touch.

A few months passed, when Ragan Kelly reached out to me about a long distance trail. She had spoken with Devan who had mentioned my name to her. Ragan knew a few more people interested in a thru-ride, and that is how Limitless began.

Now, the Pacific Crest Trail is a much longer trail than what my friends and I rode in 2017 with the Colorado Trail. But as I mentioned, the Limitless team originally started with the goal of riding a border to border trail together.

Our exact plans were to ride a shorter trail, the Colorado Trail, in 2017. Then, we wanted to ride a border to border trail, the Pacific Crest Trail, in 2020. But since the start of Limitless in 2015, a lot of things have changed.

When we completed the Colorado Trail, we could all agree it was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Out of the group, I was honestly one who did not see myself fully committing to another thru-ride anytime soon. My end of the ride on the Colorado Trail was not what I wanted. Also, what they do not warn you much about long distance trails is that life continues on in the “real world.”

Life. Work. School. Other hobbies and interests. New goals and new opportunities.

There was nothing negative that happened within the team. We are all really good friends and forever will be. I love each and every one of them wholeheartedly. Though, we do not get the chance to see each other often, we will forever hold onto the memories that we created together on the Colorado Trail.

So wait… you are doing this trek solo?

Yes, that is correct. Solo. I am riding the trail alone with my two horses.

I will be honest. This was never my plan. Originally, I was unsure of a solo trek. I did not want to ride this trail alone.

When plans for a 2021 trek started, this thru-ride was going to be made for two riders. But plans changed yet again, and I had to make a decision to either hold off riding the trail or to just go after my dreams.

I know the pros and cons of going by myself, and I know the pros and cons with riding with others. I have heard the recommendations. I have heard the concerns. And with that said, I will continue on with planning this trek solo. This will allow me to put all of my focus on my horses’ needs to get them safely through the trail.

Though, I do hope to have a few friends join in here and there for sections.

How long will this trail take?

This trail will approximately take five to six months to complete. The horses and I will average 20-25 miles per day. I am also factoring in plenty of rest days for the horses. We are starting early enough to get through the hotter, dryer Southern California sections, but we will very likely have to skip around and circle back to some parts of the trail because of snow. In order to complete the full trail in one season, we need to be done sometime in September before the snow starts back up in Washington.

So What is Next?

I have a little over half a year left to get ready for this trek. I am looking forward to sharing our progress leading up to the trail and sharing the adventures that are to come.

#poc equestrian #limitless #pacific crest trail #pct #blm mustang #mustang horse #endurance riding #trail riding #equestrian #horse #hiking #jess goodlett

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castielchitaqua · 3 years

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kaddish, allen ginsberg

I Strange now to think of you, gone without corsets & eyes, while I walk on the sunny pavement of Greenwich Village. downtown Manhattan, clear winter noon, and I’ve been up all night, talking, talking, reading the Kaddish aloud, listening to Ray Charles blues shout blind on the phonograph the rhythm the rhythm—and your memory in my head three years after—And read Adonais’ last triumphant stanzas aloud—wept, realizing how we suffer— And how Death is that remedy all singers dream of, sing, remember, prophesy as in the Hebrew Anthem, or the Buddhist Book of Answers—and my own imagination of a withered leaf—at dawn— Dreaming back thru life, Your time—and mine accelerating toward Apocalypse, the final moment—the flower burning in the Day—and what comes after, looking back on the mind itself that saw an American city a flash away, and the great dream of Me or China, or you and a phantom Russia, or a crumpled bed that never existed— like a poem in the dark—escaped back to Oblivion— No more to say, and nothing to weep for but the Beings in the Dream, trapped in its disappearance, sighing, screaming with it, buying and selling pieces of phantom, worshipping each other, worshipping the God included in it all—longing or inevitability?—while it lasts, a Vision—anything more? It leaps about me, as I go out and walk the street, look back over my shoulder, Seventh Avenue, the battlements of window office buildings shouldering each other high, under a cloud, tall as the sky an instant—and the sky above—an old blue place. or down the Avenue to the south, to—as I walk toward the Lower East Side—where you walked 50 years ago, little girl—from Russia, eating the first poisonous tomatoes of America—frightened on the dock— then struggling in the crowds of Orchard Street toward what?—toward Newark— toward candy store, first home-made sodas of the century, hand-churned ice cream in backroom on musty brownfloor boards— Toward education marriage nervous breakdown, operation, teaching school, and learning to be mad, in a dream—what is this life? Toward the Key in the window—and the great Key lays its head of light on top of Manhattan, and over the floor, and lays down on the sidewalk—in a single vast beam, moving, as I walk down First toward the Yiddish Theater—and the place of poverty you knew, and I know, but without caring now—Strange to have moved thru Paterson, and the West, and Europe and here again, with the cries of Spaniards now in the doorstoops doors and dark boys on the street, fire escapes old as you -Tho you’re not old now, that’s left here with me— Myself, anyhow, maybe as old as the universe—and I guess that dies with us—enough to cancel all that comes—What came is gone forever every time— That’s good! That leaves it open for no regret—no fear radiators, lacklove, torture even toothache in the end— Though while it comes it is a lion that eats the soul—and the lamb, the soul, in us, alas, offering itself in sacrifice to change’s fierce hunger—hair and teeth—and the roar of bonepain, skull bare, break rib, rot-skin, braintricked Implacability. Ai! ai! we do worse! We are in a fix! And you’re out, Death let you out, Death had the Mercy, you’re done with your century, done with God, done with the path thru it—Done with yourself at last—Pure—Back to the Babe dark before your Father, before us all—before the world— There, rest. No more suffering for you. I know where you’ve gone, it’s good. No more flowers in the summer fields of New York, no joy now, no more fear of Louis, and no more of his sweetness and glasses, his high school decades, debts, loves, frightened telephone calls, conception beds, relatives, hands— No more of sister Elanor,.—she gone before you—we kept it secret—you killed her—or she killed herself to bear with you—an arthritic heart—But Death’s killed you both—No matter— Nor your memory of your mother, 1915 tears in silent movies weeks and weeks—forgetting, aggrieve watching Marie Dressler address humanity, Chaplin dance in youth, or Boris Godunov, Chaliapin’s at the Met, hailing his voice of a weeping Czar—by standing

room with Elanor & Max—watching also the Capitalists take seats in Orchestra, white furs, diamonds, with the YPSL’s hitch-hiking thru Pennsylvania, in black baggy gym skirts pants, photograph of 4 girls holding each other round the waste, and laughing eye, too coy, virginal solitude of 1920 all girls grown old, or dead, now, and that long hair in the grave—lucky to have husbands later— You made it—I came too—Eugene my brother before (still grieving now and will gream on to his last stiff hand, as he goes thru his cancer—or kill—later perhaps—soon he will think—) And it’s the last moment I remember, which I see them all, thru myself, now—tho not you I didn’t foresee what you felt—what more hideous gape of bad mouth came first—to you—and were you prepared? To go where? In that Dark—that—in that God? a radiance? A Lord in the Void? Like an eye in the black cloud in a dream? Adonoi at last, with you? Beyond my remembrance! Incapable to guess! Not merely the yellow skull in the grave, or a box of worm dust, and a stained ribbon—Deathshead with Halo? can you believe it? Is it only the sun that shines once for the mind, only the flash of existence, than none ever was? Nothing beyond what we have—what you had—that so pitiful—yet Triumph, to have been here, and changed, like a tree, broken, or flower—fed to the ground—but mad, with its petals, colored, thinking Great Universe, shaken, cut in the head, leaf stript, hid in an egg crate hospital, cloth wrapped, sore—freaked in the moon brain, Naughtless. No flower like that flower, which knew itself in the garden, and fought the knife—lost Cut down by an idiot Snowman’s icy—even in the Spring—strange ghost thought—some Death—Sharp icicle in his hand—crowned with old roses—a dog for his eyes—cock of a sweatshop—heart of electric irons. All the accumulations of life, that wear us out—clocks, bodies, consciousness, shoes, breasts—begotten sons—your Communism—‘Paranoia’ into hospitals. You once kicked Elanor in the leg, she died of heart failure later. You of stroke. Asleep? within a year, the two of you, sisters in death. Is Elanor happy? Max grieves alive in an office on Lower Broadway, lone large mustache over midnight Accountings, not sure. l His life passes—as he sees—and what does he doubt now? Still dream of making money, or that might have made money, hired nurse, had children, found even your Immortality, Naomi? I’ll see him soon. Now I’ve got to cut through—to talk to you—as I didn’t when you had a mouth. Forever. And we’re bound for that, Forever—like Emily Dickinson’s horses—headed to the End. They know the way—These Steeds—run faster than we think—it’s our own life they cross—and take with them. Magnificent, mourned no more, marred of heart, mind behind, married dreamed, mortal changed—Ass and face done with murder. In the world, given, flower maddened, made no Utopia, shut under pine, almed in Earth, balmed in Lone, Jehovah, accept. Nameless, One Faced, Forever beyond me, beginningless, endless, Father in death. Tho I am not there for this Prophecy, I am unmarried, I’m hymnless, I’m Heavenless, headless in blisshood I would still adore Thee, Heaven, after Death, only One blessed in Nothingness, not light or darkness, Dayless Eternity— Take this, this Psalm, from me, burst from my hand in a day, some of my Time, now given to Nothing—to praise Thee—But Death This is the end, the redemption from Wilderness, way for the Wonderer, House sought for All, black handkerchief washed clean by weeping—page beyond Psalm—Last change of mine and Naomi—to God’s perfect Darkness—Death, stay thy phantoms! II Over and over—refrain—of the Hospitals—still haven’t written your history—leave it abstract—a few images run thru the mind—like the saxophone chorus of houses and years—remembrance of electrical shocks. By long nites as a child in Paterson apartment, watching over your nervousness—you were fat—your next move— By that afternoon I stayed home from school to take care of you—once and for all—when I vowed forever that once man disagreed with my opinion of the cosmos, I was lost— By my

later burden—vow to illuminate mankind—this is release of particulars—(mad as you)—(sanity a trick of agreement)— But you stared out the window on the Broadway Church corner, and spied a mystical assassin from Newark, So phoned the Doctor—‘OK go way for a rest’—so I put on my coat and walked you downstreet—On the way a grammarschool boy screamed, unaccountably—‘Where you goin Lady to Death’? I shuddered— and you covered your nose with motheaten fur collar, gas mask against poison sneaked into downtown atmosphere, sprayed by Grandma— And was the driver of the cheesebox Public Service bus a member of the gang? You shuddered at his face, I could hardly get you on—to New York, very Times Square, to grab another Greyhound— where we hung around 2 hours fighting invisible bugs and jewish sickness—breeze poisoned by Roosevelt— out to get you—and me tagging along, hoping it would end in a quiet room in a Victorian house by a lake. Ride 3 hours thru tunnels past all American industry, Bayonne preparing for World War II, tanks, gas fields, soda factories, diners, loco-motive roundhouse fortress—into piney woods New Jersey Indians—calm towns—long roads thru sandy tree fields— Bridges by deerless creeks, old wampum loading the streambeddown there a tomahawk or Pocahontas bone—and a million old ladies voting for Roosevelt in brown small houses, roads off the Madness highway— perhaps a hawk in a tree, or a hermit looking for an owl-filled branch— All the time arguing—afraid of strangers in the forward double seat, snoring regardless—what busride they snore on now? ‘Allen, you don’t understand—it’s—ever since those 3 big sticks up my back—they did something to me in Hospital, they poisoned me, they want to see me dead—3 big sticks, 3 big sticks— ‘The Bitch! Old Grandma! Last week I saw her, dressed in pants like an old man, with a sack on her back, climbing up the brick side of the apartment ‘On the fire escape, with poison germs, to throw on me—at night—maybe Louis is helping her—he’s under her power— ‘I’m your mother, take me to Lakewood’ (near where Graf Zeppelin had crashed before, all Hitler in Explosion) ‘where I can hide.’ We got there—Dr. Whatzis rest home—she hid behind a closet—demanded a blood transfusion. We were kicked out—tramping with Valise to unknown shady lawn houses—dusk, pine trees after dark—long dead street filled with crickets and poison ivy— I shut her up by now—big house REST HOME ROOMS—gave the landlady her money for the week—carried up the iron valise—sat on bed waiting to escape— Neat room in attic with friendly bedcover—lace curtains—spinning wheel rug—Stained wallpaper old as Naomi. We were home. I left on the next bus to New York—laid my head back in the last seat, depressed—the worst yet to come?—abandoning her, rode in torpor—I was only 12. Would she hide in her room and come out cheerful for breakfast? Or lock her door and stare thru the window for sidestreet spies? Listen at keyholes for Hitlerian invisible gas? Dream in a chair—or mock me, by—in front of a mirror, alone? 12 riding the bus at nite thru New Jersey, have left Naomi to Parcae in Lakewood’s haunted house—left to my own fate bus—sunk in a seat—all violins broken—my heart sore in my ribs—mind was empty—Would she were safe in her coffin— Or back at Normal School in Newark, studying up on America in a black skirt—winter on the street without lunch—a penny a pickle—home at night to take care of Elanor in the bedroom— First nervous breakdown was 1919—she stayed home from school and lay in a dark room for three weeks—something bad—never said what—every noise hurt—dreams of the creaks of Wall Street— Before the gray Depression—went upstate New York—recovered—Lou took photo of her sitting crossleg on the grass—her long hair wound with flowers—smiling—playing lullabies on mandolin—poison ivy smoke in left-wing summer camps and me in infancy saw trees— or back teaching school, laughing with idiots, the backward classes—her Russian specialty—morons with dreamy lips, great eyes, thin feet & sicky fingers, swaybacked, rachitic— great heads pendulous

over Alice in Wonderland, a blackboard full of C A T. Naomi reading patiently, story out of a Communist fairy book—Tale of the Sudden Sweetness of the Dictator—Forgiveness of Warlocks—Armies Kissing— Deathsheads Around the Green Table—The King & the Workers—Paterson Press printed them up in the ’30s till she went mad, or they folded, both. O Paterson! I got home late that nite. Louis was worried. How could I be so—didn’t I think? I shouldn’t have left her. Mad in Lakewood. Call the Doctor. Phone the home in the pines. Too late. Went to bed exhausted, wanting to leave the world (probably that year newly in love with R my high school mind hero, jewish boy who came a doctor later—then silent neat kid— I later laying down life for him, moved to Manhattan—followed him to college—Prayed on ferry to help mankind if admitted—vowed, the day I journeyed to Entrance Exam— by being honest revolutionary labor lawyer—would train for that—inspired by Sacco Vanzetti, Norman Thomas, Debs, Altgeld, Sand-burg, Poe—Little Blue Books. I wanted to be President, or Senator. ignorant woe—later dreams of kneeling by R’s shocked knees declaring my love of 1941—What sweetness he’d have shown me, tho, that I’d wished him & despaired—first love—a crush— Later a mortal avalanche, whole mountains of homosexuality, Matterhorns of cock, Grand Canyons of asshole—weight on my melancholy head— meanwhile I walked on Broadway imagining Infinity like a rubber ball without space beyond—what’s outside?—coming home to Graham Avenue still melancholy passing the lone green hedges across the street, dreaming after the movies—) The telephone rang at 2 A.M.—Emergency—she’d gone mad—Naomi hiding under the bed screaming bugs of Mussolini—Help! Louis! Buba! Fascists! Death!—the landlady frightened—old fag attendant screaming back at her— Terror, that woke the neighbors—old ladies on the second floor recovering from menopause—all those rags between thighs, clean sheets, sorry over lost babies—husbands ashen—children sneering at Yale, or putting oil in hair at CCNY—or trembling in Montclair State Teachers College like Eugene— Her big leg crouched to her breast, hand outstretched Keep Away, wool dress on her thighs, fur coat dragged under the bed—she barricaded herself under bedspring with suitcases. Louis in pajamas listening to phone, frightened—do now?—Who could know?—my fault, delivering her to solitude?—sitting in the dark room on the sofa, trembling, to figure out— He took the morning train to Lakewood, Naomi still under bed—thought he brought poison Cops—Naomi screaming—Louis what happened to your heart then? Have you been killed by Naomi’s ecstasy? Dragged her out, around the corner, a cab, forced her in with valise, but the driver left them off at drugstore. Bus stop, two hours’ wait. I lay in bed nervous in the 4-room apartment, the big bed in living room, next to Louis’ desk—shaking—he came home that nite, late, told me what happened. Naomi at the prescription counter defending herself from the enemy—racks of children’s books, douche bags, aspirins, pots, blood—‘Don’t come near me—murderers! Keep away! Promise not to kill me!’ Louis in horror at the soda fountain—with Lakewood girlscouts—Coke addicts—nurses—busmen hung on schedule—Police from country precinct, dumbed—and a priest dreaming of pigs on an ancient cliff? Smelling the air—Louis pointing to emptiness?—Customers vomiting their Cokes—or staring—Louis humiliated—Naomi triumphant—The Announcement of the Plot. Bus arrives, the drivers won’t have them on trip to New York. Phonecalls to Dr. Whatzis, ‘She needs a rest,’ The mental hospital—State Greystone Doctors—‘Bring her here, Mr. Ginsberg.’ Naomi, Naomi—sweating, bulge-eyed, fat, the dress unbuttoned at one side—hair over brow, her stocking hanging evilly on her legs—screaming for a blood transfusion—one righteous hand upraised—a shoe in it—barefoot in the Pharmacy— The enemies approach—what poisons? Tape recorders? FBI? Zhdanov hiding behind the counter? Trotsky mixing rat bacteria in the back of the store? Uncle Sam in Newark, plotting deathly

perfumes in the Negro district? Uncle Ephraim, drunk with murder in the politician’s bar, scheming of Hague? Aunt Rose passing water thru the needles of the Spanish Civil War? till the hired $35 ambulance came from Red Bank——Grabbed her arms—strapped her on the stretcher—moaning, poisoned by imaginaries, vomiting chemicals thru Jersey, begging mercy from Essex County to Morristown— And back to Greystone where she lay three years—that was the last breakthrough, delivered her to Madhouse again— On what wards—I walked there later, oft—old catatonic ladies, gray as cloud or ash or walls—sit crooning over floorspace—Chairs—and the wrinkled hags acreep, accusing—begging my 13-year-old mercy— ‘Take me home’—I went alone sometimes looking for the lost Naomi, taking Shock—and I’d say, ‘No, you’re crazy Mama,—Trust the Drs.’— And Eugene, my brother, her elder son, away studying Law in a furnished room in Newark— came Paterson-ward next day—and he sat on the broken-down couch in the living room—‘We had to send her back to Greystone’— —his face perplexed, so young, then eyes with tears—then crept weeping all over his face—‘What for?’ wail vibrating in his cheekbones, eyes closed up, high voice—Eugene’s face of pain. Him faraway, escaped to an Elevator in the Newark Library, his bottle daily milk on windowsill of $5 week furn room downtown at trolley tracks— He worked 8 hrs. a day for $20/wk—thru Law School years—stayed by himself innocent near negro whorehouses. Unlaid, poor virgin—writing poems about Ideals and politics letters to the editor Pat Eve News—(we both wrote, denouncing Senator Borah and Isolationists—and felt mysterious toward Paterson City Hall— I sneaked inside it once—local Moloch tower with phallus spire & cap o’ ornament, strange gothic Poetry that stood on Market Street—replica Lyons’ Hotel de Ville— wings, balcony & scrollwork portals, gateway to the giant city clock, secret map room full of Hawthorne—dark Debs in the Board of Tax—Rembrandt smoking in the gloom— Silent polished desks in the great committee room—Aldermen? Bd of Finance? Mosca the hairdresser aplot—Crapp the gangster issuing orders from the john—The madmen struggling over Zone, Fire, Cops & Backroom Metaphysics—we’re all dead—outside by the bus stop Eugene stared thru childhood— where the Evangelist preached madly for 3 decades, hard-haired, cracked & true to his mean Bible—chalked Prepare to Meet Thy God on civic pave— or God is Love on the railroad overpass concrete—he raved like I would rave, the lone Evangelist—Death on City Hall—) But Gene, young,—been Montclair Teachers College 4 years—taught half year & quit to go ahead in life—afraid of Discipline Problems—dark sex Italian students, raw girls getting laid, no English, sonnets disregarded—and he did not know much—just that he lost— so broke his life in two and paid for Law—read huge blue books and rode the ancient elevator 13 miles away in Newark & studied up hard for the future just found the Scream of Naomi on his failure doorstep, for the final time, Naomi gone, us lonely—home—him sitting there— Then have some chicken soup, Eugene. The Man of Evangel wails in front of City Hall. And this year Lou has poetic loves of suburb middle age—in secret—music from his 1937 book—Sincere—he longs for beauty— No love since Naomi screamed—since 1923?—now lost in Greystone ward—new shock for her—Electricity, following the 40 Insulin. And Metrazol had made her fat. So that a few years later she came home again—we’d much advanced and planned—I waited for that day—my Mother again to cook & —play the piano—sing at mandolin—Lung Stew, & Stenka Razin, & the communist line on the war with Finland—and Louis in debt—,uspected to he poisoned money—mysterious capitalisms —& walked down the long front hall & looked at the furniture. She never remembered it all. Some amnesia. Examined the doilies—and the dining room set was sold— the Mahogany table—20 years love—gone to the junk man—we still had the piano—and the book of Poe—and the Mandolin, tho needed some string, dusty— She went to the backroom to lie down in

bed and ruminate, or nap, hide—I went in with her, not leave her by herself—lay in bed next to her—shades pulled, dusky, late afternoon—Louis in front room at desk, waiting—perhaps boiling chicken for supper— ‘Don’t be afraid of me because I’m just coming back home from the mental hospital—I’m your mother—’ Poor love, lost—a fear—I lay there—Said, ‘I love you Naomi,’—stiff, next to her arm. I would have cried, was this the comfortless lone union?—Nervous, and she got up soon. Was she ever satisfied? And—by herself sat on the new couch by the front windows, uneasy—cheek leaning on her hand—narrowing eye—at what fate that day— Picking her tooth with her nail, lips formed an O, suspicion—thought’s old worn vagina—absent sideglance of eye—some evil debt written in the wall, unpaid—& the aged breasts of Newark come near— May have heard radio gossip thru the wires in her head, controlled by 3 big sticks left in her back by gangsters in amnesia, thru the hospital—caused pain between her shoulders— Into her head—Roosevelt should know her case, she told me—Afraid to kill her, now, that the government knew their names—traced back to Hitler—wanted to leave Louis’ house forever. One night, sudden attack—her noise in the bathroom—like croaking up her soul—convulsions and red vomit coming out of her mouth—diarrhea water exploding from her behind—on all fours in front of the toilet—urine running between her legs—left retching on the tile floor smeared with her black feces—unfainted— At forty, varicosed, nude, fat, doomed, hiding outside the apartment door near the elevator calling Police, yelling for her girlfriend Rose to help— Once locked herself in with razor or iodine—could hear her cough in tears at sink—Lou broke through glass green-painted door, we pulled her out to the bedroom. Then quiet for months that winter—walks, alone, nearby on Broadway, read Daily Worker—Broke her arm, fell on icy street— Began to scheme escape from cosmic financial murder-plots—later she ran away to the Bronx to her sister Elanor. And there’s another saga of late Naomi in New York. Or thru Elanor or the Workmen’s Circle, where she worked, ad-dressing envelopes, she made out—went shopping for Campbell’s tomato soup—saved money Louis mailed her— Later she found a boyfriend, and he was a doctor—Dr. Isaac worked for National Maritime Union—now Italian bald and pudgy old doll—who was himself an orphan—but they kicked him out—Old cruelties— Sloppier, sat around on bed or chair, in corset dreaming to herself—‘I’m hot—I’m getting fat—I used to have such a beautiful figure before I went to the hospital—You should have seen me in Woodbine—’ This in a furnished room around the NMU hall, 1943. Looking at naked baby pictures in the magazine—baby powder advertisements, strained lamb carrots—‘I will think nothing but beautiful thoughts.’ Revolving her head round and round on her neck at window light in summertime, in hypnotize, in doven-dream recall— ‘I touch his cheek, I touch his cheek, he touches my lips with his hand, I think beautiful thoughts, the baby has a beautiful hand.’— Or a No-shake of her body, disgust—some thought of Buchenwald—some insulin passes thru her head—a grimace nerve shudder at Involuntary (as shudder when I piss)—bad chemical in her cortex—‘No don’t think of that. He’s a rat.’ Naomi: ‘And when we die we become an onion, a cabbage, a carrot, or a squash, a vegetable.’ I come downtown from Columbia and agree. She reads the Bible, thinks beautiful thoughts all day. ‘Yesterday I saw God. What did he look like? Well, in the afternoon I climbed up a ladder—he has a cheap cabin in the country, like Monroe, N.Y. the chicken farms in the wood. He was a lonely old man with a white beard. ‘I cooked supper for him. I made him a nice supper—lentil soup, vegetables, bread & butter—miltz—he sat down at the table and ate, he was sad. ‘I told him, Look at all those fightings and killings down there, What’s the matter? Why don’t you put a stop to it? ‘I try, he said—That’s all he could do, he looked tired. He’s a bachelor so long, and he likes lentil

soup.’ Serving me meanwhile, a plate of cold fish—chopped raw cabbage dript with tapwater—smelly tomatoes—week-old health food—grated beets & carrots with leaky juice, warm—more and more disconsolate food—I can’t eat it for nausea sometimes—the Charity of her hands stinking with Manhattan, madness, desire to please me, cold undercooked fish—pale red near the bones. Her smells—and oft naked in the room, so that I stare ahead, or turn a book ignoring her. One time I thought she was trying to make me come lay her—flirting to herself at sink—lay back on huge bed that filled most of the room, dress up round her hips, big slash of hair, scars of operations, pancreas, belly wounds, abortions, appendix, stitching of incisions pulling down in the fat like hideous thick zippers—ragged long lips between her legs—What, even, smell of asshole? I was cold—later revolted a little, not much—seemed perhaps a good idea to try—know the Monster of the Beginning Womb—Perhaps—that way. Would she care? She needs a lover. Yisborach, v’yistabach, v’yispoar, v’yisroman, v’yisnaseh, v’yishador, v’yishalleh, v’yishallol, sh’meh d’kudsho, b’rich hu. And Louis reestablishing himself in Paterson grimy apartment in negro district—living in dark rooms—but found himself a girl he later married, falling in love again—tho sere & shy—hurt with 20 years Naomi’s mad idealism. Once I came home, after longtime in N.Y., he’s lonely—sitting in the bedroom, he at desk chair turned round to face me—weeps, tears in red eyes under his glasses— That we’d left him—Gene gone strangely into army—she out on her own in N.Y., almost childish in her furnished room. So Louis walked downtown to postoffice to get mail, taught in highschool—stayed at poetry desk, forlorn—ate grief at Bickford’s all these years—are gone. Eugene got out of the Army, came home changed and lone—cut off his nose in jewish operation—for years stopped girls on Broadway for cups of coffee to get laid—Went to NYU, serious there, to finish Law.— And Gene lived with her, ate naked fishcakes, cheap, while she got crazier—He got thin, or felt helpless, Naomi striking 1920 poses at the moon, half-naked in the next bed. bit his nails and studied—was the weird nurse-son—Next year he moved to a room near Columbia—though she wanted to live with her children— ‘Listen to your mother’s plea, I beg you’—Louis still sending her checks—I was in bughouse that year 8 months—my own visions unmentioned in this here Lament— But then went half mad—Hitler in her room, she saw his mustache in the sink—afraid of Dr. Isaac now, suspecting that he was in on the Newark plot—went up to Bronx to live near Elanor’s Rheumatic Heart— And Uncle Max never got up before noon, tho Naomi at 6 A.M. was listening to the radio for spies—or searching the windowsill, for in the empty lot downstairs, an old man creeps with his bag stuffing packages of garbage in his hanging black overcoat. Max’s sister Edie works—17 years bookkeeper at Gimbels—lived downstairs in apartment house, divorced—so Edie took in Naomi on Rochambeau Ave— Woodlawn Cemetery across the street, vast dale of graves where Poe once—Last stop on Bronx subway—lots of communists in that area. Who enrolled for painting classes at night in Bronx Adult High School—walked alone under Van Cortlandt Elevated line to class—paints Naomiisms— Humans sitting on the grass in some Camp No-Worry summers yore—saints with droopy faces and long-ill-fitting pants, from hospital— Brides in front of Lower East Side with short grooms—lost El trains running over the Babylonian apartment rooftops in the Bronx— Sad paintings—but she expressed herself. Her mandolin gone, all strings broke in her head, she tried. Toward Beauty? or some old life Message? But started kicking Elanor, and Elanor had heart trouble—came upstairs and asked her about Spydom for hours,—Elanor frazzled. Max away at office, accounting for cigar stores till at night. ‘I am a great woman—am truly a beautiful soul—and because of that they (Hitler, Grandma, Hearst, the Capitalists, Franco, Daily News, the ’20s, Mussolini, the living

dead) want to shut me up—Buba’s the head of a spider network—’ Kicking the girls, Edie & Elanor—Woke Edie at midnite to tell her she was a spy and Elanor a rat. Edie worked all day and couldn’t take it—She was organizing the union.—And Elanor began dying, upstairs in bed. The relatives call me up, she’s getting worse—I was the only one left—Went on the subway with Eugene to see her, ate stale fish— ‘My sister whispers in the radio—Louis must be in the apartment—his mother tells him what to say—LIARS!—I cooked for my two children—I played the mandolin—’ Last night the nightingale woke me / Last night when all was still / it sang in the golden moonlight / from on the wintry hill. She did. I pushed her against the door and shouted ‘DON’T KICK ELANOR!’—she stared at me—Contempt—die—disbelief her sons are so naive, so dumb—‘Elanor is the worst spy! She’s taking orders!’ ‘—No wires in the room!’—I’m yelling at her—last ditch, Eugene listening on the bed—what can he do to escape that fatal Mama—‘You’ve been away from Louis years already—Grandma’s too old to walk—’ We’re all alive at once then—even me & Gene & Naomi in one mythological Cousinesque room—screaming at each other in the Forever—I in Columbia jacket, she half undressed. I banging against her head which saw Radios, Sticks, Hitlers—the gamut of Hallucinations—for real—her own universe—no road that goes elsewhere—to my own—No America, not even a world— That you go as all men, as Van Gogh, as mad Hannah, all the same—to the last doom—Thunder, Spirits, lightning! I’ve seen your grave! O strange Naomi! My own—cracked grave! Shema Y’Israel—I am Svul Avrum—you—in death? Your last night in the darkness of the Bronx—I phonecalled—thru hospital to secret police that came, when you and I were alone, shrieking at Elanor in my ear—who breathed hard in her own bed, got thin— Nor will forget, the doorknock, at your fright of spies,—Law advancing, on my honor—Eternity entering the room—you running to the bathroom undressed, hiding in protest from the last heroic fate— staring at my eyes, betrayed—the final cops of madness rescuing me—from your foot against the broken heart of Elanor, your voice at Edie weary of Gimbels coming home to broken radio—and Louis needing a poor divorce, he wants to get married soon—Eugene dreaming, hiding at 125 St., suing negroes for money on crud furniture, defending black girls— Protests from the bathroom—Said you were sane—dressing in a cotton robe, your shoes, then new, your purse and newspaper clippingsno—your honesty— as you vainly made your lips more real with lipstick, looking in the mirror to see if the Insanity was Me or a earful of police. or Grandma spying at 78—Your vision—Her climbing over the walls of the cemetery with political kidnapper’s bag—or what you saw on the walls of the Bronx, in pink nightgown at midnight, staring out the window on the empty lot— Ah Rochambeau Ave.—Playground of Phantoms—last apartment in the Bronx for spies—last home for Elanor or Naomi, here these communist sisters lost their revolution— ‘All right—put on your coat Mrs.—let’s go—We have the wagon downstairs—you want to come with her to the station?’ The ride then—held Naomi’s hand, and held her head to my breast, I’m taller—kissed her and said I did it for the best—Elanor sick—and Max with heart condition—Needs— To me—‘Why did you do this?’—‘Yes Mrs., your son will have to leave you in an hour’—The Ambulance came in a few hours—drove off at 4 A.M. to some Bellevue in the night downtown—gone to the hospital forever. I saw her led away—she waved, tears in her eyes. Two years, after a trip to Mexico—bleak in the flat plain near Brentwood, scrub brush and grass around the unused RR train track to the crazyhouse— new brick 20 story central building—lost on the vast lawns of madtown on Long Island—huge cities of the moon. Asylum spreads out giant wings above the path to a minute black hole—the door—entrance thru crotch— I went in—smelt funny—the halls again—up elevator—to a glass door on a Women’s Ward—to Naomi—Two nurses buxom white—They led her out, Naomi

stared—and I gaspt—She’d had a stroke— Too thin, shrunk on her bones—age come to Naomi—now broken into white hair—loose dress on her skeleton—face sunk, old! withered—cheek of crone— One hand stiff—heaviness of forties & menopause reduced by one heart stroke, lame now—wrinkles—a scar on her head, the lobotomy—ruin, the hand dipping downwards to death— O Russian faced, woman on the grass, your long black hair is crowned with flowers, the mandolin is on your knees— Communist beauty, sit here married in the summer among daisies, promised happiness at hand— holy mother, now you smile on your love, your world is born anew, children run naked in the field spotted with dandelions, they eat in the plum tree grove at the end of the meadow and find a cabin where a white-haired negro teaches the mystery of his rainbarrel— blessed daughter come to America, I long to hear your voice again, remembering your mother’s music, in the Song of the Natural Front— O glorious muse that bore me from the womb, gave suck first mystic life & taught me talk and music, from whose pained head I first took Vision— Tortured and beaten in the skull—What mad hallucinations of the damned that drive me out of my own skull to seek Eternity till I find Peace for Thee, O Poetry—and for all humankind call on the Origin Death which is the mother of the universe!—Now wear your nakedness forever, white flowers in your hair, your marriage sealed behind the sky—no revolution might destroy that maidenhood— O beautiful Garbo of my Karma—all photographs from 1920 in Camp Nicht-Gedeiget here unchanged—with all the teachers from Vewark—Nor Elanor be gone, nor Max await his specter—nor Louis retire from this High School— Back! You! Naomi! Skull on you! Gaunt immortality and revolution come—small broken woman—the ashen indoor eyes of hospitals, ward grayness on skin— ‘Are you a spy?’ I sat at the sour table, eyes filling with tears—‘Who are you? Did Louis send you?—The wires—’ in her hair, as she beat on her head—‘I’m not a bad girl—don’t murder me!—I hear the ceiling—I raised two children—’ Two years since I’d been there—I started to cry—She stared—nurse broke up the meeting a moment—I went into the bathroom to hide, against the toilet white walls ‘The Horror’ I weeping—to see her again—‘The Horror’—as if she were dead thru funeral rot in—‘The Horror!’ I came back she yelled more—they led her away—‘You’re not Allen—’ I watched her face—but she passed by me, not looking— Opened the door to the ward,—she went thru without a glance back, quiet suddenly—I stared out—she looked old—the verge of the grave—‘All the Horror!’ Another year, I left N.Y.—on West Coast in Berkeley cottage dreamed of her soul—that, thru life, in what form it stood in that body, ashen or manic, gone beyond joy— near its death—with eyes—was my own love in its form, the Naomi, my mother on earth still—sent her long letter—& wrote hymns to the mad—Work of the merciful Lord of Poetry. that causes the broken grass to be green, or the rock to break in grass—or the Sun to be constant to earth—Sun of all sunflowers and days on bright iron bridges—what shines on old hospitals—as on my yard— Returning from San Francisco one night, Orlovsky in my room—Whalen in his peaceful chair—a telegram from Gene, Naomi dead— Outside I bent my head to the ground under the bushes near the garage—knew she was better— at last—not left to look on Earth alone—2 years of solitude—no one, at age nearing 60—old woman of skulls—once long-tressed Naomi of Bible— or Ruth who wept in America—Rebecca aged in Newark—David remembering his Harp, now lawyer at Yale or Srul Avrum—Israel Abraham—myself—to sing in the wilderness toward God—O Elohim!—so to the end—2 days after her death I got her letter— Strange Prophecies anew! She wrote—‘The key is in the window, the key is in the sunlight at the window—I have the key—Get married Allen don’t take drugs—the key is in the bars, in the sunlight in the window. Love, your mother’ which is Naomi— Hymmnn In the world which He has created according to his will Blessed Praised Magnified Lauded

Exalted the Name of the Holy One Blessed is He! In the house in Newark Blessed is He! In the madhouse Blessed is He! In the house of Death Blessed is He! Blessed be He in homosexuality! Blessed be He in Paranoia! Blessed be He in the city! Blessed be He in the Book! Blessed be He who dwells in the shadow! Blessed be He! Blessed be He! Blessed be you Naomi in tears! Blessed be you Naomi in fears! Blessed Blessed Blessed in sickness! Blessed be you Naomi in Hospitals! Blessed be you Naomi in solitude! Blest be your triumph! Blest be your bars! Blest be your last years’ loneliness! Blest be your failure! Best be your stroke! Blest be the close of your eye! Blest be the gaunt of your cheek! Blest be your withered thighs! Blessed be Thee Naomi in Death! Blessed be Death! Blessed be Death! Blessed be He Who leads all sorrow to Heaven! Blessed be He in the end! Blessed be He who builds Heaven in Darkness! Blessed Blessed Blessed be He! Blessed be He! Blessed be Death on us All! III Only to have not forgotten the beginning in which she drank cheap sodas in the morgues of Newark, only to have seen her weeping on gray tables in long wards of her universe only to have known the weird ideas of Hitler at the door, the wires in her head, the three big sticks rammed down her back, the voices in the ceiling shrieking out her ugly early lays for 30 years, only to have seen the time-jumps, memory lapse, the crash of wars, the roar and silence of a vast electric shock, only to have seen her painting crude pictures of Elevateds running over the rooftops of the Bronx her brothers dead in Riverside or Russia, her lone in Long Island writing a last letter—and her image in the sunlight at the window ‘The key is in the sunlight at the window in the bars the key is in the sunlight,’ only to have come to that dark night on iron bed by stroke when the sun gone down on Long Island and the vast Atlantic roars outside the great call of Being to its own to come back out of the Nightmare—divided creation—with her head lain on a pillow of the hospital to die —in one last glimpse—all Earth one everlasting Light in the familiar black-out—no tears for this vision— But that the key should be left behind—at the window—the key in the sunlight—to the living—that can take that slice of light in hand—and turn the door—and look back see Creation glistening backwards to the same grave, size of universe, size of the tick of the hospital's clock on the archway over the white door— IV O mother what have I left out O mother what have I forgotten O mother farewell with a long black shoe farewell with Communist Party and a broken stocking farewell with six dark hairs on the wen of your breast farewell with your old dress and a long black beard around the vagina farewell with your sagging belly with your fear of Hitler with your mouth of bad short stories with your fingers of rotten mandolins with your arms of fat Paterson porches with your belly of strikes and smokestacks with your chin of Trotsky and the Spanish War with your voice singing for the decaying overbroken workers with your nose of bad lay with your nose of the smell of the pickles of Newark with your eyes with your eyes of Russia with your eyes of no money with your eyes of false China with your eyes of Aunt Elanor with your eyes of starving India with your eyes pissing in the park with your eyes of America taking a fall with your eyes of your failure at the piano with your eyes of your relatives in California with your eyes of Ma Rainey dying in an aumbulance with your eyes of Czechoslovakia attacked by robots with your eyes going to painting class at night in the Bronx with your eyes of the killer Grandma you see on the horizon from the Fire-Escape with your eyes running naked out of the apartment screaming into the hall with your eyes being led away by policemen to an aumbulance with your eyes strapped down on the operating table with your eyes with the pancreas removed with your eyes of appendix operation with your eyes of abortion with your eyes of ovaries removed with your eyes of shock with your

eyes of lobotomy with your eyes of divorce with your eyes of stroke with your eyes alone with your eyes with your eyes with your Death full of Flowers V Caw caw caw crows shriek in the white sun over grave stones in Long Island Lord Lord Lord Naomi underneath this grass my halflife and my own as hers caw caw my eye be buried in the same Ground where I stand in Angel Lord Lord great Eye that stares on All and moves in a black cloud caw caw strange cry of Beings flung up into sky over the waving trees Lord Lord O Grinder of giant Beyonds my voice in a boundless field in Sheol Caw caw the call of Time rent out of foot and wing an instant in the universe Lord Lord an echo in the sky the wind through ragged leaves the roar of memory caw caw all years my birth a dream caw caw New York the bus the broken shoe the vast highschool caw caw all Visions of the Lord Lord Lord Lord caw caw caw Lord Lord Lord caw caw caw Lord Paris, December 1957—New York, 1959

#im a collector im a maniac #poetry #not mine

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writing-for-me-at-this-point · 4 years

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iv. Relationships w/ MC | Obey Me | Actor AU

Request: Hello! I saw that your ask box is open, so I have come bearing a request. I found ur blog thru your OM actor au and I adore it to bits. Your interpretation of the characters was delightful and the gag/bloopers had me laughing so hard! May you please expand on the au by sharing your relationship headcanons of how the cast interacts or feels about MC (platonic/romantic)? I hope this finds you well 💖💖💖

Word Count: 3225 words

Page Count: 9.2 pages

A.N. Hope you guys enjoy this!

Tags: @weebartistinc

[ M A S T E R L I S T ]

Lucifer / Benjamin

The relationship between Benjamin [ Lucifer ] and MC would more like master and apprentice. Think of RDJ and Tom Holland. Ben is more lax than his show counterpart for sure. Where Lucifer would be prideful, Ben is humble, where Lucifer is smug, Ben can be self conscious. I'd like to think the MC of the "real world" thinks much more logically, doesn't throw themselves into things head first and is more calculating. Maybe something more like Satan?

Between the two of them, they are lax and playful, throwing inside jokes and playfully fighting. Ben [ Lucifer ] is like the "cool dad" that loves to mess around with his kids, which makes sense because he does have his own, they are fairly young and I can see MC babysitting in case it was needed. There's a deep trust between the two that can't really be described. Ben really wants MC to prosper in their career and will guide them- but he doesn't want to baby them either, he wants them to test the waters on their own. If they ever get overwhelmed he's there for them though.

His dumbass is forgetful to check his sugar as well, so you can catch MC helping to remind him to check it/eat/drink if needed. He didn't have the most welcoming background- he didn't have the support system a child needs, so he strives to be that and forgets to care for himself often.

"I want to give my kids everything I never had and more, just like how I want it for you too, MC."

Mammon / Avery

Avery [ Mammon ] is very business oriented and formal. MC and him would get along well, like their Obey Me counterparts, but just more lax and less chaotic. I see them as the type to go on coffee dates to catch up and get away from it all, seeing as how famous he is, he often likes to find smaller and less well known places to dwell. Enjoys the small and peaceful moments with MC and they can relate with being the most famous of the cast- so they often get treated the same.

I can see them having a deep platonic and familial connection while also being distant. Avery has trouble opening up due to being frequently used for his money, and though he and MC are on the same playing field, he has his moments where he needs to back away and recuperate. And though he is distant, if MC or himself were to ever need anything, they're at each other's beck and call. Think of the relationship as: MC is the younger sibling that was born like... 10 years after Avery and he is the older brother, they are distant at times, but still love each other deeply and fiercely.

"MC, what do you think of this new script- who is that on your page? They're liking too many pictures at once... a bit desperate- don't you think?"

Leviathan / Jackson

This one... is a little complicated. Really- he's a fuck boy and he doesn't care. I can see him as very... objectifying- and not just sexually either. He can see how to use someone to their fullest advantage, but only for his sake, just for to further himself or satisfy any needs he has. MC is a playful flirt, but once Jackson [ Leviathan ] starts to pull the moves, I can see MC pulling back quickly and isolating away from him. Until there is a serious moment where Jackson can prove that he can provide something meaningful to the relationship- it's going to remain cold and formal. MC isn't playing games.

This can be one of the few relationships that, if managed properly by MC and Jackson [ Leviathan ], can make their relationship to a more friends with benefits type or something romantic. Jackson [ Leviathan ] needs to learn how to stop seeing people as tools and more like... people. MC, in turn, would need to learn boundaries for themselves. They'd probably be so used to accepting people that keeping Jackson at a distance would be weird and almost foreign to them. If they both want things to work out for a proper, and healthy, relationship- it's going to be a lot of work.

"MC, come here, I need you for something. Hm? No, no- nothing like that. I thought maybe... we could just hang out? Normally?"

Satan / Ross

Honestly? MC could do better than Jackson [ Leviathan ] and Ross is it, babes. He is definitely the most understanding of MC and takes their own emotions into consideration. Wow kinda like Satan. He still does those live streams and gets smacked on a couple of grams, so MC is there either smoking as well or just getting hot boxed, their tiger dyed cats running everywhere. The live stream then turns into a kitten purring ASMR, then eventually, everyone is asleep on a live stream together. Ross [ Satan ], is a sweetheart as well, remembers the little things about MC and will make them special gifts or gestures for them. Is the type of boyfriend to leave random kisses on them just because.

Ross [ Satan ], also likes to talk, so he does like to pick MC's mind and see how they think- which in turn touches their heart because WOW. A guy they like isn't using them or being a general ass? He doesn't play around, so if you want a relationship prepare to be in something for the long haul, family affairs are now your business as well. He is super close with his younger brother Dmitri [ Luke ], so you need his approval as well. Ross also can help with building confidence and a stronger self image, but a major downside is that he is lazy, like, he is really fucking lazy. He's tired though, with his job, the animal shelters, watching his brother, and avoiding... them- he wants to just be a homebody. MC does a lot of home dates, but they end up very fulfilling because it's Ross, he knows how make make even the smallest moments feel like everything.

"Look at ya, MC! Damn, you always have me fallin' for ya all over again."

"I'm in sweatpants and a tanktop, babe, nothin' special."

"And you make 'em look fine as hell. Now come 'ere, let's watch a movie, look-! An MC sized space is here, right between my arms, neat right?"

Asmodeus / Micheal

He's like the best friend who acts like the wine mom. He's the wine mom. He's mom. Always come to him for help, from either something as small as a rant to larger issues like contracts and relationship advice. This a more platonic/familial relationship that MC would develop. They can delve into more personal and private conversations, confident Micheal has the best intentions and advice, and in turn MC helps him out with what their generation is up to these days.

Pinching MC's cheeks? Yeah, it's a ritual at this point. Likes to joke that MC is actually his illegitimate child. He also invites them to his vlogs, taking MC out at 2 am to Wendy's and talk about the most random stuff. Maybe hint at new things that are upcoming on the show. He writes TSL, not Alex [ Simeon ], so MC will help him with plot and point out any plot holes as well.

"MC, hon, take a nap. You're tired and haven't slept well. I got you food too- no, not Wendy's, actual food. Eat that and go sleep, alright?"

Beelzebub / James

This can be another contender for a romantic relationship! James [ Beelzebub ] is one of the few actors who is pretty similar to their character, so if you love Beelzebub, you love James, sorry I don't make the rules. It's law. He is still new to the acting scene, so unless MC was an actor as a child as well, they'd bounce tips off one another- things they learn from whoever takes them under their wings. In MC's case, Benjamin [ Lucifer ] is their mentor, and in James' case, Alex [ Simeon ] is his mentor.

He's very thoughtful, understanding, and compassionate. But, he is a bit of an airhead at times, or he often gets lost in his own head. This is due to him trying to think things through, he gets anxious and wants to perform well in every aspect of his life, so he tends to overthink and try to fix his problems in his head. MC will help him with opening up and stilling his mind into calmer waters. He feels the weight of his family, seeing as he now makes the most, he feels like he should be taking care of all of them- even when they tell him to just enjoy his life as it is. MC would realize he's a family man, so this would be another relationship where commitment is expected, James would rather not just have something casual due to how hectic things in his life get. He also is often with Dmitri [ Luke ], watching him and making sure he's okay, because if his younger siblings were in the same situation, he'd want someone to look out for them too. Dmitri is in love with both MC and James, often messing around or just relaxing with them of Ross [ Satan ] isn't around, so their often known as the "Realm Trio" due to their characters each being a different race.

"I'm fine, really! I was just... thinking, that's all. I'm happy, really I am, and I want everyone else to be as well. That's it."

Belphegor / Conner

MC definitely becomes more chaotic with Conner, he's a sweetheart, but damn can he not sit the fuck down. He can be a bit draining for MC if they aren't in the best of moods, and even then, he just holds this light that makes them happy or feel peaceful. Another romantic/platonic relationship that can happen. This is a relationship where no matter how old they get, what is going on in life, how overwhelmed they feel, MC and Conner [ Belphegor ] will always manage to laugh.

He is clumsy, especially with the tail, so MC will worry over him on and off set. He is very humble, and grateful for every opportunity he gets, so he faces each day with a smile and the classic southern hospitality- where you say thank you after everything, help anyone even if they aren't struggling, all with a southern drawl that makes MC melt. This is the healthiest relationship to exist, due to how easy Conner can communicate with MC and how MC can pick up on things he might not, there isn't any big issues because they both can just talk it out. Even if it doesn't end up romantic- it's still one of the most fulfilling relationships MC and Conner will have due to just being... them.

"It's so easy, being with you, and I love that. Loving you is never painful, never tough on me, it's always so... light. So perfect, like you."

Barbatos / Thomas

Oh my god. He is an absolute ass. He is like the uncle you never wanted, always sarcastic, roasting someone, but in the end he means no harm. MC and him definitely have a darker sense of humor together, getting either morbid or just downright weird, and no one else can decipher that the fuck they're saying because there's too many inside jokes and little intricacies. In the end, he is a ride or die, may not be the best to work with- but MC is now family and Thomas [ Barbatos ] will now kill for them. Congratulations on the achievement!

Will not allow MC to go to openings or any large events alone, and even if they have another cast member with them, he still keeps an eye on them. He gets anxious, and almost paranoid, his younger sister went missing years ago and never got closure. He see's MC not as his missing sister, but as someone who is in need of that older brother figure, and wants to take that role because it feels so natural. He still ends up as that cool asshole uncle, but he likes that too, as long as MC is with him. There are times where MC will need to help him through some issues, just by being a shoulder to lean on, and in turn they get closer. Thomas didn't expect to get close with many people on the cast, other than his old friends, and taking MC into his family was a surprised for all.

"Come here, ya annoying ass little kid, give me a hug! What! Come here or I'll chase you around his big ass house, MC!"

Diavolo / Roman

MC can be the romantic partner for Roman if you'd like, but I just remembered that I made him have triplets, so unless MC is his partner and willing to have kids, Roman would end up as another Uncle/Father figure. If you go the romantic route, Roman is so deeply in love with MC he will sometimes feel empty of he doesn't tell them he loves them everyday. He is attentive, watchful, and optimistic, always bringing fun into the relationship and making MC feel fulfilled and overflowing with love. But, now with the triplets? Love bomb x10, he loves MC with all his soul, he does, but now he realizes the kids come first and appreciates that they do the same. Prefers to be more private though, won't post whatever he does with the kids or anything like that, he doesn't want spotlights on his children when they never asked for it.

A more platonic/familial relationship though? Best. Man. Ever. Always taking MC out to eat and keeping up with their needs, doesn't baby them, just keeps a watchful and caring eye. Does this with all the younger cast as well. MC will feel loved, safe, and in harmony. He is a wine dad though, so MC will often bring him drinks so he can unwind, even make cocktails time to time just for practice and will make sure to give any tips he can. MC gets a little too tipsy at a party? Well, since he knows where the party is, shoot him a call and he'll pick his 6'5 ass up outta bed to bring MC either to their home or his.

"I've got you, always have, always will. I won't ever let you down, because you deserve the world and all the happiness in it, I just hope I can even be a little piece of it. A reason to make you happy."

Luke / Dmitri

MC is close with Dmitri no matter what, he's always on set, and MC can't seem to let him leave their sight. Kinda like a parent at the park. Won't exactly just stare at their kid, but will always know where they are, and make sure their within a safe distance. Hollywood is full of some sick fucks and MC will be damned if they'd let anything happen to Dmitri. He gets overwhelmed sometimes, will cry and shake, due to holding in stress from the public. MC will teach him how to cook, rather than bake, because food always brings people together and he wants his family to be together in any way he can do it.

Spending time with him means spending time with Ross [ Satan ], so MC ends up close with Ross anyway, and will often be filling up Dmitri's Instagram and other social medias. He is the younger brother MC never had and is ready to be another older sibling for him. If the show goes on for multiple seasons, then it will be set in stone, MC and Luke will be a found family along with the rest of the cast.

"Thank you for everything, MC. I love you, really, and I want you to be as happy as you can be! You're the best and more!"

Simeon / Alex

Alex [ Simeon ] is another potential love interest/ close friend. This is the only other relationship that can compete with Ross [ Satan ] and Roman [ Diavolo ]. He is known for his temper, but usually plays it up for comedy, and will never actually "blow up" on anyone that isn't deserving of it. He is a sweetheart, but has a tendency to be materialistic, due to his rich upbringing. He knows material things aren't the answer, but it's a habit/mentality he's working on fixing. He prefers to be more affectionate in private, because he wants to enjoy intimacy with MC without the eyes of the public on them, not because he would want to hide their relationship.

He is intelligent as fuck, so MC will be filled with the knowledge of the gods, always learning something new and living a student life that isn't more of a student- but someone that has a love for learning. You know Leonardo in Ikevamp? Yeah- that bitch. That's Alex. Even as a friend MC and Alex would always confuse people due to how close they are, which can be annoying if they are with another cast member, but in the end they know the truth.

"Ah fuck, MC, I'm trying to cook here, ya dork! Don't yank me around the kitchen! Hey! Loving me isn't an excuse to squeeze the life outta me! MC! Don't run now!"

Solomon / Derek

So, I honestly had Derek [ Solomon ] as the original love interest, going with the childhood friend trope. MC and Derek would be the ultimate set of goals, and living a fantasy life that most people dream of, the thing you'd see if those overly fluffy fan-fictions. Derek is the more caring and nurturing of the two, while MC is more outgoing and aggressive, and manage to find a happy medium between them. Derek has a calming aura around him and yet is the most socially awkward one in the cast- he will put Leviathan's character to shame with some of the things happened in the past. MC is the biggest tease and will have him flushing like a virgin school boy- and it isn't even sexual, he just flusters easily.

With Lovely and Blue, MC and Derek are known as the babysitters and pet sitters, and are often looking out for the casts pets and children whenever they need it. The couple everyone wants to end up like. You will never see them in scandals, drama, or anything of the sort- even if they become household names, Derek and MC prefer to keep the details of their lives lowkey. I can't see major issues in this relationship, romantic or platonic, because after knowing each other so long, they can communicate in their own ways.

"Blue, stay stiiiiiiiiill. Fine, leave. MC, come here, I need a pillow and Blue won't love me. Thank you- oh! Now you come, Blue? Jealous much?"

#obey me actor au #om actor au #obey me #obey me x reader #obey me imagines #obey me x you #obey me x mc

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aizawaslovebot · 4 years

Text

soleil et lune.

secretary! shouto todoroki x director/ceo! reader

pronouns: he/him

word count: 1.4k

series masterlist | future chapters available only on quotev

i. new moon

There was something about the contrast of the sun and the moon that deeply intrigued Todoroki.

Perhaps it was the way they rarely seemed to meet, always just a shy minute apart from coexisting together. Maybe it was how one of the other gave way for a moment of spotlight, either to bless the Earth with sunlight or to illuminate the dark sky with moonlight. Maybe it was because people perceive them as lovers who are separated by destiny, forever bound by whatever rules the universe had set.

He never got to the bottom of the reason why he was so enamored with the Romeo and Juliet of the cosmos but whatever it is, Todoroki had to thank it.

It was in these that he found solace, especially during the dark times of his past and childhood.

Shouto Todoroki was not an astronomer in the slightest. Despite his fondness over the stars in the sky or the planets lightyears away, he never took the chance to pursue this career.

Correction: He was never allowed to pursue this career.

In fact, he was not allowed to be anything other than what his father had set for him. Like the sun and moon, he was bound by destiny. But destiny, in Todoroki’s case, was a six-foot, heartless dictator who strived for perfection in everything at the expense of even an ounce of happiness and freedom.

“You are to follow in my footsteps, Shouto. You will continue what I have started and you shall rise over Japan and defeat All Might Corp.”

It was annoying. It was beyond him how his abomination of a father had this kind of mindset. But he had no power over this man. He controlled Shouto’s life.

So Todoroki fell to the same fate of his older siblings; all bound by their destiny as businessmen, inheritors of Japan’s second most successful conglomerate, and joyless lives. He became what society calls as a success— rich and thriving at the early age of 20.

You see, that’s just it.

Society has deemed success as being filthy rich at an early age. The way they measured success is by how young you’re able to afford luxuries, how much green papers you owned, and how famous you could be. They never thought to wonder if these so-called successful people were actually happy with their lives.

Success for Shouto was not about how much bank he could make, or how influential he could become, or how many cars he could afford. Success was finding joy in what you do, regardless of how much money he had. Shouto was far from successful. But he’s hopeful that one day he could achieve the life he wanted, whether his dictator of a father liked it or not.

For now, he is the moon without light to illuminate his dark life.

He is a new moon.

But things will change and the sun will rise again.

“Father, I would like to try secretarial studies,” Shouto brought up one day as the Todoroki family ate quietly in Enji’s mansion.

The clanking of Enji’s utensils rang through the big house, reflecting their father’s emotions. Twitching fingers, cold eyes, and a permanent scowl that seemed to deepen— he was livid.

“That’s absurd, Shouto. I will not allow it.”

“I never asked for your permission. I am taking secretarial whether you like it or not.”

The youngest Todoroki scoffed, retaliating once again from their father’s idiotic ideologies. Fuyumi was silently pleading for Shouto to be careful while the two older brothers were grinning for him to continue.

“You are a Todoroki. We do not serve people. They serve us. Drop this, now.”

“I don’t care what you say. I’ve already decided who to work for.”

Enji chuckled wryly, “and who are you wasting your talents on?”

“The L/N Enterprise”

There are only a few companies and groups that could be hailed as Japan’s best. These include All Might Corporations, Endeavor Inc., and the L/N Empire. Safe to say, these three are the big leagues, the future of Japan’s economy, and the most successful. These three GDP monsters also play in the same field: the music industry. World-known idol groups come from one of the three, and more flock to these companies for a taste of success. Behind these are the business powerhouses: Toshinori Yagi, known as Mr. All Might; and Todoroki Enji, dubbed as Endeavor. Little is known about the L/N CEO, however, what everyone does know is they are geniuses, even in different ways, because they were able to make their names known not only to Japan but the entire world.

Perhaps there are still differences. Unlike the two, the L/N Empire doesn’t only battle in the music industry. Countless branches, including the ever-famous Sumsang tech, come from their conglomerate.

Another factor from All Might and Endeavor Inc. lets the L/N Enterprise stand in the spotlight; the future successor of the entire group, and grandson of the richest man in Japan, is one of the youngest to ever sit on such a high position.

General Manager L/N (Name).

Many people wonder why this young man, who, at the young age of 20, began to dedicate his life to the countless numbers and percentages that come with this life. People his age at the time would’ve rather flaunt to the world of the riches they own, and indulge in such a lavish life that only few could attain.

But not L/N (Name).

He pursued this career that was bestowed upon him by his family and thus, just a short three years later, L/N is on his way to become the youngest Director and hold so much power over the L/N group, over this branch that he manages, and over Japan.

A bigshot at a young age, blessed with not only riches but also looks and intelligence.

If only he also had a good attitude to boot.

There were a lot of hearsays that circulated about the so-called business ace. Maybe it was because they only knew so little of his father that (Name) became the center of attention. People say he’s a womanizer, an arrogant, self-less prick who has an ego bigger than All Might’s height. Some say he was a sleaze and a temperamental individual who explodes at even the smallest of mistakes. People have also heard that the Director was ruthless, and seeing the countless rumors about this made them believe everything.

Enji could even vouch for those rumors. The brat, while he was a family friend, always found a way to talk back to him whenever he’s over for Natsuo. As far as the Todoroki could remember, L/N was in the same age group as Natsuo. He wasn’t really sure, but Enji’s certain that brat is an egotistical prick.

So why the hell did Shouto choose their God forsaken company?

It was beyond Enji, but he’ll let Shouto waste his time for a bit. After all, he could benefit from having an insider for that competition of his.

The object of Enji’s hatred and the famous L/N sneezed so suddenly.

“Endeavor-san must be cursing me again,” He hummed then continued on with his work.

(Name) was in his office, scanning through the proposals submitted by his department, when his temporary secretary knocked on the door.

“Here’s the batch of applications, sir,” She nervously placed the profiles on his desk. Before (Name) could thank her, however, the young secretary zoomed off.

(Name) was looking for a new secretary after his former subordinate was revealed to be a mole for some company. Aside from that, he knew that the assistant was after him, personally, too. She would often flirt and schedule him for dinners with “other people”, only later to reveal that she wanted to eat with him.

Basically, that assistant was a pest.

The flipping of papers came to a halt at one very specific file. Staring right back at (Name) were the familiar heterochromatic pools of blue and silver, as if saying that his attention should be on the young Todoroki.

Well, damn right.

Without so much as a glance at the CV neatly written at the bottom (which (Name) knows is more than qualified), he knew who he wanted by his side.

The new moon slowly transitions into a new beginning.

“Welcome to the L/N Enterprise, Todoroki-san”

—note: hey! hey! hey! this is my first-ever bnha series 👉🏼👈🏼 please send criticism thru ask or dm 🥺❤️ if you guys like it enough to want to be tagged, just ask!! also pls be nice

—aizawaslovebot 2020

#soleil et lune #bnha x reader #male reader #16+ fic #todoroki shouto x reader #shouto todoroki #he/him #secretary todoroki #ceo reader #quirkless au #todoroki x you #todoroki imagine #mha x reader #my hero academy #boku no hero academia

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majicmarker · 4 years

Text

so i’ve had a lot on my mind lately — the good, the bad, the ugly, you know the drill. i’m used to the bad and the ugly, but i think (and ofc by my therapist’s rec) i need to give a little credit to the good, too. not to mention the good is largely comprised of people, and those people deserve a sports stadium wave, yk? idk shit abt sports, whatever, but i know what the wave is and it’s like the grandest gesture i can think of, SO

listen, y’all. to get real here, i hate fandom. my time spent therein has been hit-or-miss, but the misses got me hard and contributed to some major self-loathing, etc etc. we’re not gonna get into the specifics, i don’t owe that to anyone, but suffice it to say things got Rough.

but so much of it can be so, so good. and rn i want to keep on my rose-colored glasses, and the rosiest parts for me have always been @kitten1618x and @mygutsforgarters

(quite a few others, too, but i no longer have everyone’s info. and some ppl are newer friends, or relationships that have moved more slowly. i have mad love for u guys too, obvs, but ik melissa and gus irl so we know each other More and they’re who this post is rly about atm. pls know i don’t want to harsh on anyone’s feelings)

the tl;dr version of events is i met them both via fanfic. i happened upon theirs like “bitch!!!! **i** wanna do this, they’re bomb as hell” and then i made them be friends w me. they’ll tell you they wanted to be friends w me first, but that’s not important bc **i** am the one making this post, so they can both like,, suck it.

ANYWAY.

@ melissa : so bitch listen. here’s the thing abt melissa…… i found her while browsing jonsa fic back when i cared abt GOT, and she brought me back to what i loved so much abt romance when i first started, way back in junior high, what’s up. i bad a fascination w historial romantic epics for a loooooong time — those formative yrs, amirite ladies??? — but girl i could never write it so well as melissa. immediately she struck this balance between the drama you expect from historicals and the levity of a good romance, and i was just like, “hand to god this woman must be published already, surely???”

(she’s not, but that’s ridiculous so we’re gonna skip that)

(also she’s busy?? we’ve been friends for like six years and i will never know how many kids she actually has, but the point is she’s a goddamn superhero and i’m obsessed w her, MOVING ON)

i just Had to be her friend for two reasons: 1) she’s too talented, and b) i have said that abt 2 ppl my entire life and she was the first, so i was like, “AH YES MY HOLY GRAIL”

so ofc i slid into her DMs just as effectively as that one guy i had a crush on when i was sixteen and he’s still shooting me texts every valentine’s day bc of the societal pressures i guess (it is Far Less Effective these days, he’s my age and therefore too young for me, gross, but i digress), except me and melissa go way stronger.

she reminded me of why, half a lifetime ago, i started writing romance — bc it’s fun, bc i want to. bc i can do absolutely anything i want, bc who else is gonna read it but me and whoever i share it with? it was all up to me what i wanted to do with it, and i could do anything. nothing really mattered but what i wanted, and i hadn’t felt that way abt anything in such a long time — let alone abt something i used to love so much.

melissa’s writing is so beautiful, it’s everything i wanted to achieve when i was fifteen and never got around to perfecting. and i’m totally okay w that now, bc what do i need to do myself that she’s not already doing/wants to do in the future? when i found melissa’s writing i found a missing part of me — a part i’d maybe lost, maybe i gave it up, idk, but it was totally gone until i found her fics and they fucking clicked. i had to reach out bc there was a part of me that was a part of her, and she helped me find that again w/o even knowing it.

so i found melissa via GOT, and from the start she’d been trying to get me to write some bethyl. years and years, she dropped not-so-subtle hints — and by “hints,” i mean legit directives that i watch just enough TWD to write her some beth/daryl fic. real crafty, she is.

eventually the stars aligned: i was bored w the same dynamics i’d been writing for years, i wanted smthn new, i was restless, i was line editing a bethyl fic she’d written, and — again — this shit clicked. her fic made me want to explore this dynamic i’d never done before, so i watched the prerequisite episodes (no more than that tho, i super hate the show and i’m begging y’all to not @ me abt it anymore). i found smthn that i’d been missing, smthn that challenged and excited me and brought me back around to why i love romance and, more importantly, why i want to write it myself.

so as i was starting to write bethyl, i was poking around the ao3 tag to get a feel for what had been done, what hadn’t, anything i might be missing. and goddamn BAM —

@ gus : this is where u enter dramatically thru a red velvet curtain that i don’t wanna touch (Metaphorically bc you do romance better than me and i’m cool w that bc your talent simply Cannot be touched, and Literally bc i hate velvet) — i was like, “please for the love of god let her want to write contemporary romance, i need some good fckin food”

i happened upon “doo wah diddy diddy” first. ofc the summary hooked me, forget my usual hard no against pregnancy fics (i have issues w pregnancy and that’s all anybody Needs to know, back off), but This Bitch !!!!!!! has a way with words and i wanted to be friends w her straightaway. lmao too bad for her, now she’s stuck w me

gus’s fics gave me what i wanted without having to write it myself. her style is so distinctive, she hits the notes between porn and Actual Affection that is missing from uhhhh, every romance i’ve tried?? (why is everyone so intent on the sex part?? fckin chill. at best it’s unrelatable and at worst u sound like u’d rather wear someone than fuck them, check urself)

she writes w such care, she wants you to know what she’s doing here, and what she’s doing here is combining the physical and emotional needs of both characters w/o infringing on anyone’s comfortability. you root for these characters bc they simply want to be together, no strings (and if there are strings, damn, they talk abt it).

gus makes you believe in love in the modern age. like, not to sound like one of those ppl who post fckin “no one in this generation knows how to love!!!1!!11!!” memes on facebook, those are dumb, but gus’s writing made me think “yeah man, love ain’t dead, it’s just abt how we approach it.”

(if y’all haven’t guessed yet, i have some hang-ups abt relationships. i’ve goddamn earned those. but melissa and gus both brought me back to where i needed to be — in this place where, yeah, we’ve got some shit to deal with, but we all still deserve the things we want, and those things are achievable. i could not have gotten here without them, so jot that down.)

gus is Real, she’s funny, she’s unapologetic in the way she writes. ofc she has her personal hurdles, but who doesn’t?? and tbh nobody writes a sex scene like gus does. physical, realistic, but balanced w the emotional depth that makes you root for these characters bc you can Feel how much they want each other — not just sexually, but in the less-erotic aftermath of that passion. it continues to blow my mind, bc i’ve never seen anyone do what she does. i can’t even pinpoint the specifics, bc she just… Does It. and you’re reading it like “yeah bitch that’s it,” and That’s It.

it’s fckin wild.

these two — my best friends, the lights of my life, both of whom always make me crave chicken tenders at THE most inconvenient hours bc somehow we always talk abt chicken or ice cream or ultimately DQ, but they're both so hot idec — have something special.

i really, really want them both to know that: it’s not just in how they’ve treated me as a friend, but who they are as people, in their creative pursuits. i’ve never known support the way they’ve shown me; i’ve never known this much enthusiasm or investment or belief that i can do what i want with my talent. i want them to know that i feel the same way abt them and their works.

sometimes, when i look back at their writing that completely kicked my ass, i still can’t believe that they’ve become two of my best friends. it’s totally bonkers. they’re This Talented, and they wanna be friends w my spastic ass? GIRL. i’m out.

i’m not always the best at being present, at giving people what they need when they need it. but with everything that melissa and gus have given me in the past few years, i need them to know this — honey!!! i need all y’all to know this, bc i know fandom shit is hard, but you should know some of these friendships are so, so worth all that bullshit, so —

they have so much to give, so much to say, so much to offer. i could not have kept going without them. i couldn’t believe in myself without the faith they’ve given to me. i hope that i can always give that same faith right back.

and that, babes, is what real soulmates are all about.

#i just love them whoops my hand slipped #the majnificent adventures #gus tag #@ melissa wtf is our tag we had like five #how do i not remember five things #anyway i got into my feelings tnt don’t @ me

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neo-shitty · 3 years

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toffee!

ah yeah, i think quarentine has given people some opportunity to actually just sit with the person they are, rather than be rushing around for the person they want to become. its good you got smth good out of isolation! ah thats great! hope you had fun and ur partner in crime speeds back home so you can get out more hehe.

ah yeah ty, good suggestions.

hmm good point, i was sort of putting it separate to the whole not-sexualising thing, but yeah. mmm yeah i totally agree, some of the enhypen fics/imagines *shudder* and even reading innie stuff is just a bit *icky* cos everyone still thinks of him as our agi ppang. yeah def would be good but sadly this just seems to be the world we live in. :(

ah yes the holy masterlist (not sarc) i have actually read in the rain and gladius maximus before, but ill go look for in class! oooh thats good! character development lol. hmmmm yes champagne problems was the angst to end all angst, that shit hurt. it was actually one of the first of your fics i read and i recall almost crying over the whole thing, it was so heartbreaking, i can see how it almost made you want to drop angst. good that youve allowed yourself some lee-way tho :)

hehe thats so cool. okay here we go, ill try not to be mortally offended (/hj)

cheese - yes same, i liked it but that was all there was, it wasnt a super standout track. it was rlly underwhelming for me but some of the hook is super catchy so there is Redemption (tm) in store for cheese maybe

thunderous - mmm, yeah at first i totally agreed, i think they suffer from too much good music syndrome, that all their other tracks are such fucking bops its hard to stay at that level of perfection. the choreo was beautiful tho and tbh, the track has grown on me since ive been watching all the vids abt it. its my brothers favourite track

domino - YES GODAMMIT IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN THE TITLE TRACK. the raps, the vocals, the vibes, the fucking domino sound in the back? i would have streamed that shit on repeat. but tbh, as good as it is, it doesnt have that sort of grandness/oomph that skz seems to like in their title tracks so i can see why they chose thunderous (tho domino would have been so good) *sigh*

ssick - yeah same, not my fave track by a long mile, the crowd cheering was a ?strange? choice and the chorus was a bit bare/empty, plus like i mentioned earlier, it was kinda funny to me for some reason but ill still play it if im playing thru the whole album

the view - ahh one of those not like other girls (/j) i honestly think its just a good party song, just a bop to play in the background when nobodys rlly paying much attention. its pretty generic pop music but catchy

sorry, i love you - hehe yeah i thought it was going to be sadder as well, but i rlly loved the fact that they all just got to sing, which almost never happens, i dont think ive heard felix sing for a long time, so i enjoyed it. wasnt rlly a standout track but i just casually like it. looking forward to the fic haha

silent cry - this song i swear, some bits are rlly good and then others are just? why?? it does sound like a dance song tho idk. definitely not one of my faves either

secret secret - YES its so good! its such a chill song and i love their vocals in it. the combination of lo-fi/fake strings backup stuff and their heavenly vocals just makes it *chefs kiss* im listening to it rn and just... its so beautiful. it gives me pumped up another day vibes ya know? like my pace is edgy get cool, this one is energetic another day i feel like. overall i love it

STAR LOST - ah thats so cool! i didnt know that! on first listen this song had a similar vibe to secret secret but then the beat came in and ahh its such a good song. i can totally imagine them putting this song to a concert footage vid, this song is so sweet.

red lights - LMAO YES ITS SO AWKWARD WHY DOES IT GO ON FOR SO LONG ah thats good! yeah good point, its quite intense hehe. but that is my fave trope and this is lowkey my favourite track on the album so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ just the combination of hyunjins and chans voices, the backing music, the lyrics ahh red lights my beloved

surfin’ - yes lmao its always a shock, i feel like they should have put gone away in between them, but its such a fun cute song, i cant get rlly mad. yeah, as an aussie i think im contractually obligated to like beaches lol. sand im not such a fan of, but my familys rlly into fishing and my brother loves bodyboarding so we stay at a beach house at least twice a year and we live like 5 mins from 3 different beaches (hehe all aussie cities are on the coast lol) so thats cool. do you like beaches?

gone away - ah gone away my beloved, i love this song sm, its just so pure and showcases their vocals and lyrics so well. yes the pitch change is very out of the blue, i feel liek they went directly from seungmins soft vocals to hans powerful ones which was an interesting choice, but hey, im not complaining

wolfgang - YES IKR ah im so happy he got to be included in that era and song. yeah its such a full on song i cant rlly listen to it if im in a quiet mood but its very motivating :)

hehe mood, i hope they do! ahhh no rest, but at least you wont have to pull a blink and wait a year for any word from the group lol. im not rlly into nct but im excited for them! ah hopefully youll be able to sneak some rest into that chaotic schedule, with enhypen (idk if u stan but yeah) squeezed into it haha

<3 w.a. 🐺

i wheezed at partner in crime, it reminded me of smth. i have a lee know fic in the drafts that i wrote 'in honor' of him (and his departure-ish). i'll tag you when i finish it, if you want. it's a rather hilarious one.

oh my god. based on my experience on the collabs i've joined before, writing explicit shit for '01 & '02 is not accepted (nct's maknaes) but with enha's hyung line '01 & '02 somehow it's okay? i do a double take every time i see fics like those i mean, technically, it's legal but still what the fuck. maybe it's just not for me at the moment. not at us venting our frustration about this. it's just something that's so accepted here that i am (in all honesty) slightly uncomfortable about. but oh well. that's kpop writerblr for you.

man i could've linked all the fics in the ask instead so you wouldn't have to go looking for them! i think i saw you like in class the other day (the fic i renamed into sharp-tongued, god it took me a while to remember the new title). describing champagne problems as an angst to end all angst is one way to put what i was feeling back in december. it just hurt to write and admit?? if that ever happened to me i would prolly cry :d

okay back to the album talk! i love how you answered with more thoughts. i love exchanges like these! i am a victim of the cheese hook and it's now one of my favorite tracks in the album. PLS, TOO MUCH GOOD MUSIC SYNDROME. that's on our self-producing kings 😌💅 also, your brother has taste! as i am typing this, domino's currently playing in my head and i realized that too, that it doesn't have that 'vibe' of a skz title track. honestly, this could be a title track of another group. ssick is starting to grown on me because i found the beats cool kdjsk not the not like other girls 😭 the view is the generic pop that i don't like but i get why a lot of people enjoy it. sorry i love you scratches a certain itch that i find myself singing the first few lines every time i remember it. i too would want to hear felix sing more!

> a mini junction on the album talk bc i got side tracked. on that topic, i want skz to switch positions at some point like i know those allrounders are capable of doing so. specifically, i want to hear seungmin rap!!!! (yk in the recent weekly idol he talked faster than changbin in a challenge and changbin is like the fastest rapper in kpop that's active atm if im not mistaken. my dandy boy has some potential and i want it UNLEASHED.)

back to album talk. silent cry is basically sad music to twerk to. secret secret is definitely one of my favorite tracks :( i loved how you compared the tracks HAJSAH i burst out laughing bc yk what, you're right! i want to make a star lost edit of skz but i simply do not have the time i want to cry. i love the song so much. ok, my dreaded track, red lights. idt i have played the track since we last talked. my friend sent me the lyrics tho and i'm itching to write a twisted au out of it. idk if you're comfortable with yandere but somewhere along those themes. the obsessive type of love that's sweet at first but turns rotten. IMAGINE IF THEY PUT GONE AWAY BETWEEN ASHJA it's like going from 50 shades to the notebook.

i was about to ask if you lived near the coast and you literally mentions it here god im so stupid. yes i LOOOOOOOOOVE beaches so much. living in an archipelago is fun :( i live in a part of the country that's more island than city so every time i want some vitamin sea it's accessible. i heard the waves in australia are great :( anYWHOOO gone away :(( every time it plays im compelled to skip it because it makes me sAD AND NOWADAYS I DONT HAVE THE TIME TO BE SAD. contrary to you, i dislike my quiet moods because i tend to overthink a lot.

i have this little analogy about how there are stays that enjoy songs the generic pop + mellow songs and then there are other stays that enjoy the noisy tracks. in my mind, it's like a perfect balance that makes me feel like all the tracks are loved in the end. just by different people.

PULL A BLINK. bro i fucking hate yg entertainment. they have the biggest kpop girl group LOCKED in their basement when they could be (and i mean this in the most business-like way not morally) milking money of the quad. they're yg's biggest hope at not being bankrupt atm so it's a damn fucking mystery to me as to how they aren't doing anything. (jk i just realized lisa solo album soon, but i still need a ot4 cb hELLO)

i stopped looking forward to the teasers. rest > kpop boys. i don't want to sound like a cult member but have you tried checking out nct? are they just not your thing? (i get it tho, that's one hard group to get into). and yes i do stan enhypen!

wow i love how long these asks are! they're like online penpals. but i also want to ask about you! how have you been lately? are you feeling okay both mentally and physically? how's the weather there? do you have anything that you want to talk about? maybe an interesting book you read? feel free to bring up anything you want to share! i'm getting conscious about talking about myself HAJHSJ

and yet another long answer B) i am sooo sorry T___T should these ask exchanges feel draining to you, feel free to stop sending them in AAAA

#toff.asks #wild anon 🐺

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