#its 110 pages and i read it in one sitting | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

technicalknockout · 1 month

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I wanted to reply to some of the stuff from my ask, but didn't know whether to reblog it or send it as an ask, I thought it might be easier this way?

silly straws page - i read in 'dipper and mabel's guide to mystery and nonstop fun' that bill likes silly straws and thought it was a silly random tidbit, imagine how surprised i was when i realized there was LORE behind it.. im still figuring out some codes bc i dont wanna look them up and im having so much fun !!

YEAH the silly staws page! I'm so mad that Bill said "I cut the page where I was gonna talk about Shermie Pines" stop teasing mee

I know there are some really cool codes on that page, I haven't decoded most of the book for myself yet but I intend to. There's another code on that page which is a super cool and fun one to decipher (though i've already seen what it says online but I want to replicate it myself). The one that starts with "215 858 117 450 110 628.." etc.

stanford trying to keep me from reading the book page - "you cant hear the disappointed sigh im making rn, but i assure you it's devastating" i mean he failed to stop me from reading the entire thing in one sitting but i was just very happy to see ford's cursive again. It was really funny seeing him trying to guess what the reader would be convinced by (i saw the moth picture and thought 'whats that called, a goth moth?' I laughed out loud when it turned out that was actually its name)

Sameee I got to that page and i was thinking "hiiii!". I loved his attempt to stop us from reading by showing his cool moth, and it was even better when Bill says something later on along the lines of "if he tries to show you his moth collection, throw yourself off a cliff"

Also the photo of him looks cool, but the context of it is so funny. I've seen some posts on tumblr about Ford dragging Stan into the woods and getting him to take a picture of him looking angry and mysterious. Why else does he have a photo like that. It's so silly.

urban legends page - as a long time fan of creepypasta the references in this page absolutely delighted me. Also the art is so realistically horrifying, whoever drew these i love you

YEAH that page and the Mirror Realm one and others look so cool. The new artists brought on to work on this book did a wonderful job. It fits in perfectly with Bill's weirdness.

the one true intelligence test - idk this page just made me laugh a lot

So freaking stupid i loved it so much. I think my favourite was the "divide this number in half" bit.

Entire anti-cipher society part - i love how instead of telling the story in just plain text, they made us follow the story with newspapers and journal pages. What was that called. I swear there was a name for that kind of storytelling if anyone knows pls pls tell me

That whole bit was so interesting. It was a really fun way of telling the story!

every page with ford and fiddleford - BEAUTIFUL. SUBLIME. BEST THING TO EVER EXIST IN THE WORLD. I HECKING LOVE FRIENDS BEING WHOLESOME TOGETHER AND I LOVE IT MORE WHEN THEYRE MY FAVORITE CHARACTERS FROM MY FAVORITE SHOW. THEY MAD SNOWMEN OF EACH OTHER THATS SO CUTE

Imma be honest i never really... cared for Fiddleford before. Like, I think the show is better with him in it, and I like that Ford had someone good in his life aside from Stan back in the past, but I didn't know enough about Fiddleford to care. Granted, I haven't reread Journal 3 in a while so I likely would have liked him more if I could remember what was said there, but the stuff presented in the lost Journal 3 pages here were such a treat and I understand now. I really really like him now.

Then Ford decorating the portal room with pretty lights and played Fidds' favourite song and they made snowmen???? That's adorable omg.

And ik this is about the book, not the website, but the stuff on there as well, like the college photo and it describing how they met. AND THE AXOLOTL. Fidds getting one for Ford because it reminded him of him. And i don't think it was even a holiday of any kind. BILL WHEN I GET YOU-

"but my aim is getting better" - do i need to explain this one

I CHEERED at that bit. I showed it to my friend and they didn't get it. I forgot that they're a casual fan who's watched the show like, once, and not like me where Gravity Falls has just permanently taken up some space in my brain.

whatever this page is called;

I hated reading this (i loved reading this). i kinda got spoiled before i bought the book with an analysis post, had to literally put my phone down and think about what id just read. i think this page really puts bill and ford's relationship into perspective. ford's a person and bill's a multidimensional semi-god creature, bill will do and say anything in his power to get ford to do what he wants. this relationship cannot even begin to resemble normal. and also the forgetting your own name part horrified me, thats some good horror right there.. love it when books make me have a visceral reaction to tiny words on paper

I don't think I have anything extra to add I agree completely. I just love how much of a threat it shows Bill as. I think it works especially well because most of the book has been Silly Bill Shenanigans, you kinda forget what he's capable of. Brilliant stuff. i hated it.

call transcript from the police - OH the LORE and CHARACTER ANALYSIS FOOD RIGHT HERE. i could talk for hours about how bill straight up sucks at relationships and he's SO unwilling to admit he was upset about falling out with ford that he's lying to himself MULTIPLE TIMES OVER AND OVER and how a lack of genuine connection with people is eating him up - but if i talked about all that this post would spiral into insanity real quick. Also drunk bill talking into the phone was very very sad and very very on character and i could hear hirsch's bill voice inside my head it was really good aghjgnkhhh

LITERALLY YEA. And that kinda links up with the end of the book, where Bill is convinced someone will free him at some point. But he has no positive connections. He has no one that cares about him. And he did that all himself. Please, anytime, i will listen to your rambles. (just might not respond to it straight away but I WILL)

stan's page - I ALMOST CRIED AND I KNOW THATS KIND OF A WEIRD REACTION BUT I SAW THE STAN PAGE IN THISISNOTAWEBSITEDOTCOM OKAY AND IT WAS MAKING ME VERY UNWELL I WAS EXTREMELY RELIEVED TO JUST HEAR THIS MAN SO HAPPY AGAIN STANLEY PINES I LOVE YOU YOU DESERVE EVERYTHING

The messages from Dipper, Mabel and Stan were so lovely to see at the end. Stan is so happy now, and I'm happy for him. And it's just all really funny. "I only met him once and he cried like a baby then I punched him to death." Yeah that is basically what happened.

AH GOD YOU REPLIED TO EVERYTHING ????? THAMK YOU

YEAH the silly staws page! I'm so mad that Bill said "I cut the page where I was gonna talk about Shermie Pines" stop teasing mee

>:( he knows us too well he knows we'd give anything for more info about shermie...

Ive been stuck on the numbers one, im gonna give it one more try today but i think it's gonna take a brain bigger than mine jfbsjdkskfs im STEAMING aleeeeex why are you making this so hard for me/silly

does that imply ford tried to show bill his moth collection at some point ????? imagine jdbshfjsnf

I WHEEZED WHILE READING THIS ID NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT THAT??? but like. it's definitely on character i fully believe it happened. i mean this man backflips out of windows why not hnskdkdshd thanks for putting that image in my head

YEAH that page and the Mirror Realm one and others look so cool. The new artists brought on to work on this book did a wonderful job. It fits in perfectly with Bill's weirdness.

YEE!!!!! I think they were allowed to take more creative liberty than in the actual show, being a book and all, and i think thats really cool.

WELCOME TO THE FIDDLEFORD FANCLUB MY FRIEND. ive been a fan of him since the legend of the gobblewonker tbh.. i tend to latch onto very random silly side characters that fill the specifically shaped holes in my brain. Loved him more when i found out he had lore, love him even more after reading the book. Yay fiddleford 🎊

Fiddleford and Ford were so wonderful together! Fiddleford was so, so nice to Ford. I'm never going to get over how Fidds made Ford TWO christmas presents, one which had multiple prototypes to get right, then forgot to get a present for his own wife. Stanford means so much to him it's crazy. / Then Ford decorating the portal room with pretty lights and played Fidds' favourite song and they made snowmen???? That's adorable omg. / And ik this is about the book, not the website, but the stuff on there as well, like the college photo and it describing how they met. AND THE AXOLOTL. Fidds getting one for Ford because it reminded him of him. And i don't think it was even a holiday of any kind. BILL WHEN I GET YOU-

i swear these two are absolutely adorable and that is an objective fact i will not take criticism. the page where ford was rummaging thru fiddleford's desk and found the glove prototypes broke me.

and also yeah the college photo ! i mean like. augh. how do i put this. theyre so friends. ford believed fiddleford was right even tho they barely knew each other and worked together and came up with an entire theory. idk it's so wholesome. AND FRILLIAM !!!!! FIDDLEFORD GOT FORD A LITTLE GUY AND FORD NAMED HIM FRILLIAM AND I AM GOING TO PERSONALLY SPRAY HAND SANITIZER IN BILL'S EYE FOR RUINING THIS. these two are dear to my heart im so so frickin glad they made up and are somewhat keeping in touch now..

I KNOW THE PAIN SO SO WELL NO ONE AROUND ME EVEN KNOWS THIS BOOK EXISTS. ILL CHEER WITH YOU WHO CARES IF WE'RE NOT ON THE SAME CONTINENT. FORD MY GUY SLAYYYYYY🎊🎉🎊🎉🎊👏👏🎊🎉🎉👏👏👏

exactly.. bill is a Scary Silly Guy™️ thank you tbob for reminding us. it was very on character and we appreciate it a lot. but like did you HAVE to make ford suffer for it :'(

Guy had it comin for him tbh. rest in therapieces bill ciphor reincarnate as a vole (also YOU WANT TO HEAR MY RAMBLES🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺???? dont mind me if i raid your asks sometime. or discord dms. whichever you prefer !)

JASIDNFJSNFKSS PRETTY ACCURATE ID SAY. Stanford pines you are absolutely awesome take my money

#asks #long post #god i love talking about this show w/ u :DD !!!!!! reallt appreciate you replying to all of those too it musta taken some time

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loafandfish · 2 years

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could I request apostles headcanons where after having just boys for a long time with reader they have a babygirl

I couldn’t stop smiling while writing this! It’s just so wholesome <3

Simon P: With living in a household full of boys, Simon is super nervous to have a girl. But his worries wash away when he first sees her. It’s like his whole world got turned upside down and he was helplessly wrapped around her tiny finger from day one.

Andrew: This little girl is like a spoonful of sugar and when he sees her, Andrew immediately knows he’d do anything for this child. When she’s older, he’ll start making her little treats, like honey dipped apples, and small pastries.

Big James: Haha I think he secretly wanted a girl to begin with. This man has a tough exterior but inside he is all fluff and sweetness. If she asks for a hug or cuddles, he will agree 110% of the time. Get ready for overprotective father at its finest. He just lives her so much.

John: As soon as he gets to hold his daughter, he can’t put her down. He can’t even take his eyes off her. It’s going to take multiple people telling him that he needs to go to sleep before he finally lets someone take the baby out of his arms.

Simon Z: I find it hilarious to imagine Simon’s sons are peaceful little sweethearts, and here comes along this daughter with a fiery passion to rival the Thunders. Oh man he’s gonna teach her self defense but she’s gonna get scary good. Also! He lifts her onto his shoulder and they go on walks around town all the time.

Philip: He would absolutely teach her to dance. She’d step up on his feet and the two would dance around the kitchen for as long as they wanted to. He’d absolutely take her on hikes and nature walks to explore and appreciate the beauty of God’s creation.

Judas: So so so many of the hugs and kisses for his lil baby girl!!!! He wants to be able to provide for her best he can, and hopefully have enough wealth to give her a dream life one day. He would definitely be the dad that comes home, picks his daughter up, and spins her until they both get dizzy.

Little James: He sings to her every night as she falls asleep, but what he doesn’t know is she’s listening to the words and melody. After a particularly rough night, he hears the soft patter of his daughters footsteps, then her small voice as she sings the song. He ends up writing music to sing with her.

Thaddeus: This little girl is about to be spoiled beyond her wildest dreams. Not materially, but with so much live and affection. Piggy back rides 24/7. If she needs new clothes, he’d be the one going with her to get the materials to make it.

Nathaniel: Oh man Nathaniel and his daughter are a power couple you don’t want to mess with. If they lived in modern times, the two would be walking around with shades, lollipops, and Nat would be wearing that baby carrier thing. Do not mess, they are judging you. The two are inseparable.

Matthew: His sons can be a little much and they’re stressful to handle sometimes. So coming home to his daughter is the highlight of his day. He’d sit down next to her on the bed and read her stories. The words on the page and the rhythmic breaths of his little daughter never fail to calm him down.

Thomas: He would have the best time of his life homeschooling his daughter. Girls aren’t allowed in Torah class, but that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t learn, especially if she’s passionate about it like his daughter is. She quickly becomes more well educated than many of the boys in her town, and her father is eternally proud of his little girl.

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that-one-weeb-buts-its-the-main · 3 years

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Hello, I was wondering if you could do headcannons for a silco x female reader (romantic), where she is Vi and Jinx's older sister (20 y/o) and went with jinx when vander died and believes that Vi abandoned them, and her and silco are like Jinx's main parental figures.

Thank you and have a good day!

You becoming parent's to Jinx w/Silco + extra drabbles

Note: ya'll blew up my inbox with Silco and I love it

Reader: female

Arcane Masterlist ♤♤ "Here's the Dump"

You usually take the blame for everything for your sisters

Nah no one touches my sisters

But of course Vi likes to argue, saying that its your fault your parents are dead, because you left to try and make a better name for the family outside of Piltover and the Lanes

You stormed out in anger not wanting to esclate things with powder begging you to stay; you said you'd come back for her

Did come back for her but just a bit too late.

Found you near Vander, with a large shard of glass in your calf.

Powder ran into your arm so quickly, crying her eyes out

Vi only contuined to argue blaming you once again, Powder tried standing up to her, resulting in her getting slapped.

Angred you pulled the shard from your calf and threatened Vi with it holding it to her neck.

Tried to reason with her as well though.

"I did everything trying to help you two. To help our whole family"

Passing out from blood loss.

Vi leaving still

Powder begging for help and for Vi not to leave

Silco comes in, Powder crying into your barely rising chest, begging you to come back.

He helped both you and Powder now Jinx

Waking up in a bed and like: bitch Im t r i p p i n:

Meeting Drabble: With a groan Y/n woke up, trying to sit up.

"You'll be light headed," a voice spoke, "don't try and get up."

"P. Powder..." she called, trying to get out of bed but someone grabbed her arm.

"Lay down,"

Her eyes finally came into focus, and glared up at him, "do whatever you want to me just leave her alone."

Silco forced her onto the bed causing her to wince, "then go back to sleep."

Laid down but didnt go back to sleep

Eventually helped to sit up and brought food.

It was hard trusting any of them but then Powder rushed in you went fuck food and held her close.

Offered to stay and work for Silco, by the man himself

Yeah it went a totally diffrent way within like two weeks: there he was, putting you on his desk, ya'll making out.

Accepting of Jinx, and her chaos

He asking you to put injections into his eye even though you kinda hate it: seems painful

It was pretty early on you told Jinx that you and Silco ended up becoming a thing.

She was pretty happy for you actually, and made you both matching mugs.

She was pretty attached to the idea of you two being her parents.

As she got older she learned how to do more things, and made breakfast for both of you

"Is this ceral? Where did you get this?" "Oh! You know! I stole it! Didn't know how to cook it exactly." "Its wonderful thank you"

Both of you with eat burnt ceral to make her happy

Please hold them both together, like on the couch heads resting on your shoulder while you read

Good night kisses for Jinx 110%

Good night kisses for Silco too

Working with Sevika

Calming Jinx down turning her flashes of the past

"I've got you! I've got you! Jinx! Look at me!"

Pressing her forhead to yours helps her calm down

Holding Silco back from going to her when she needs to take a breath, "Let her breath."

You usually end up putting most before you, so Silco treats you once an a while even if its just a new book you've been eyeing

Took up sketching/drawing, you have pages filled with just him sitting at his desk and him smoking

He figures out your drawing him:

Y/n was silent, sat on the chair infront of Silco's desk he was busy doing paper work.

She lifted up the fancy pen Jinx had snatched for her while top side, using it as a sort of reference for proportions.

"Are you going to stab me with that pen?" Silco spoke drinking from the glass of brandy infront of him.

"Want me too?" Y/n questioned dropping her arm tilting her head with a small smile.

He held out a hand as she sighed handing over the hand made book.

"Don't smudge it." Y/n protested.

Silco set the book down on his papers, bringing his glass back to his lips taking another drink, he skimming through it. It must've been a family thing, both her and Jinx drew like crazy.

"Impressed?" Y/n spoke with a teasing smile the pen loosely swinging in her fingers.

"It's a family trait." Silco spoke.

"A common intrest." Y/n corrected softly, "unless you want to tell me your a secret artist and make it a family trait."

He stiffled a laugh, leaning back in his chair

"Imagine it now." Y/n teased, "the all mighty Silco shimmer dealer and industrialist, sits infront of a blank canvas wondering what will be carved out of the paints still in there tubes."

"You a writer too now?" Silco questioned Y/n smiling.

"The adventures of a gangster family. Nice title huh?" Y/n questioned, standing up from her seat and leaning over his desk, hands planted on the edge, "or...maybe something more...personal?"

On impulse he leaned forward she smiling but the door bursted open.

"Oh Y/n! It's me and you time!" Jinx cheered as Y/n chuckled.

"The next chapter later today then I suppose." Y/n teased pecking Silco on the lips and walking off to join a Hyper Jinx.

He loves seeing you with Jinx, especially if the young woman falls asleep in your arms you reading book peacefully

He often finds you gone from bed, just to find you in Jinx's room, barely able to keep awake as the girl sleeps in her arms.

If you fall asleep on the couch, Jinx will wait till you either wake up or Silco come gets you

Big titty identity crisis wine mom

Can drink Silco under the table

Family Chaos time atleast once a week

"Ha! 21 I win!" "We're playing monopoly" "wait we're not playing Yathzee?"

Y/n on the phone: no. I don't care! Just break there knee caps!

Y/n putting the phone down and looking back at Silco: so you say Jinx blew up a building

Figuring out how to cook and going to Pilltovee to steal actual ingredients: ta dah! Family meal time!

Surprisingly a decent cook

Taking care of Jinx and Silco when there sick, Jinx loves it but Silco hates it.

If your sick you just try and stick through it to the point of passing out

Jinx won't leave your side, culred up on a chair trying to read one of your books, she doesnt understand much of it

Silco often checks in on you if sick, and gets roped into silently reading with Jinx in his lap.

Honestly a wholesome yet dysfunctional family but you all love each other and are willing to do anything for each other.

#silco headcannons #lol silco #silco x reader #silco arcane headcannons #silco arcane #arcane headcannons #arcane silco #arcane #arcane x reader #x reader #female reader

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thefanficmonster · 4 years

Text

Corpse’s Girl

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Bullying, Swearing, Derogatory Terms

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: Y/N’s life as a regular college student is forever stripped away from her when her relationship with the famous YouTuber Corpse Husband is accidentally revealed during an online class of hers. How will she cope with the sudden spotlight and the unwanted attention, some of which crosses into bullying?

Requested by my amazing Tumblr friend @itsminniekat 🥰 She’s been reading and liking my works since day one and I honestly couldn’t be more grateful. If you’re reading this, all I can say is thank you, darling. Thank you so much for sticking by my blog even when I posted some crappy fics. I’ll make sure this ain’t one of them. Love you with all my heart. ❤❤❤

P.S. - I named the mean character with my name so I hope no one who reads this has the same name. Wouldn’t want any of you feeling like the villain 😘

Who knew online class would be even more boring than being physically present for a lecture? Seriously, I find myself doing the weirdest of crap to entertain myself - like trying to balance a pen on the tip of my nose for example. I jot down some notes every now and then but that’s basically it. My mind can not fathom the concept on concentrating on whatever my professors are going on and on about. Well, full disclosure, I couldn’t concentrate even if I wanted to, especially with my boyfriend streaming in the other room.

He’s currently playing Among Us with his usual gaming squad. Listening to his input during the discussions, I can always tell when he’s lying. I honestly find it hilarious that his friends can’t pick up when he’s bullshitting them. I sometimes wonder if he has brainwashed them. And that’s one of the main reasons we don’t play Among Us together - he can’t lie to me. Not only do I pick up on his con with ease, but he always says he feels bad when he lies to me which is just the sweetest thing. Also, I refuse to play cause I’m shy. His friends are all well-known content creators and I’m a literal nobody. Every now and then I find myself wondering why Corpse is even with me. He’s always quick to push those thoughts out of my head and make sure they don’t return on a long notice, but they do interrupt my peace from time to time.

“Y/N, do you know?“ The sound of my professor saying my name takes me out of my eavesdropping of Corpse’s stream.

I panic, but quickly improvise, “Sorry, my internet is slow, you cut out for a second. What was the question?” I feel my face heating up, making me glad we are allowed to keep our cameras off.

��Question number 15 on page 82 in your textbook. Do you know the answer to it?“ My professor repeats himself, his tone annoyed.

I look down at the page that’s already opened in front of me. I let out a sigh of relief, seeing that the question is rather easy.

“Yeah, um, it’s...“ Suddenly, Corpse’s laugh reaches my room loud and clear. There’s no doubt my mic picked up the noise, especially since the door to my room is open.

The color drains from my face as I hurry to say the answer and remute myself. My eyes are wide as I stare at my screen, hoping no one will acknowledge that very recognizable laugh.

“OMG Y/N, are you watching a Corpse Husband stream in class?” One of the bitches in my class, Vy, speaks up, “Not a very goody-two-shoe move on your part, dear.”

I purposely unmute my mic to mumble a quick ‘Shut up, bitch’ that somehow manages to fly under my professor’s radar and the class continues. It’s the first time something like this has happened and I’m not sure if I handled it properly or not.

The class ends shortly after, allowing me a sigh of relief as I disconnect from the meeting.

“Fucking finally.“ I mumble to myself, leaning back in my desk chair. Tilting my head backwards, I see Corpse standing in the doorframe. I grin, not only because his presence itself makes me ten times happier, but also because he’s upside down from my viewpoint. “Well, hello there! How long have you been spying on me?“

He struts over to me, leaning his face over mine, “Long enough.” His lips linger above mine without any actual contact before he pulls away, allowing me to sit up straight and proper in the chair. “You still have classes?”

I nod my head while disappointedly rolling my eyes, “Yeah. One more. Shouldn’t be too bad since it’s English Lit. You’re done streaming?”

“Yeah, I just have some other things to do. I haven’t done a narration video in a while, I miss making that type of content.“ He plops down on my bed, running a hand through his messy black curls.

“Weren’t you recording some lines a few days ago?“ I frown as I try to recall if what I’m referring to actually happened or my brain is too fried to decipher reality from my bootleg perception of it. Online class, man - messes with your head like sleeping pills - makes you disoriented and exhausted with barely doing anything other than trying to wrap your brain around a lecture or two.

He hums affirmatively, “It’s not a finished project and I don’t even know if I’ll use those or rerecord them. I’ll have to listen to them again before I make a final decision.“

I tilt his chin upwards with my pointer finger, a gesture he has told me he finds very endearing, “I’m sure they’re great and you just refuse to be satisfied. Everything you do is great.“

He smiles a small, shy smile, his fingers gently wrapping around my wrist, holding my hand in place, “You’re biased. You like me too much to tell me when I do some bullshit.”

I scoff, “You know that isn’t true. If someone’s gonna kick your butt in formation, it’s gonna be me.“ I give him a quick kiss on the forehead before pulling away from him, “Go on, now. I have a class to attend. You distract me enough while you’re in the other room, I can only imagine how hard it’d be for me to focus if you were right by my side.“

He smirks, bowing a little as he makes his way out of the room, “You flatter me.”

I playfully roll my eyes, getting my headset back on as I tap the last class for the day. We have an assignment due to the start of the class which we’ll have to present if the professor approved of it. We basically had to write a psychoanalysis of a character from any book of our choice. I chose Heathcliff from ‘Wuthering Heights’ which is one of my favorite books of all time. I’m proud of what I wrote and the way I wrote it, but I’ve always barely scraped by with a B in this class, a B+ if I’m lucky, so I’ve never gotten any major credit, even when I put my 110% in the assignments and projects.

Well, color me surprised when the professor calls on me first to read my work, complimenting it on its detailed and specific nature. I get my printed assignment out in front of me and unmute myself.

“I wrote a psychoanalysis on for Heathcliff, a character from Emily Bronte’s novel ‘Wuthering Heights’.“ Just after I say this line, Corpse’s voice booms throughout the whole apartment, no doubt being picked up by my mic. It doesn’t sound like he’s actually talking, he can’t be that loud. I put two and two together when I recognize the lines he’s saying - the ones he recorded a few days ago. They’re coming from his computer speakers. He probably didn’t check the volume before playing back the recording.

I mute myself as quickly as possible, but it’s too late. The voice dies down as Corpse probably turned down the speakers.

My professor, who is already done with this lecture, just annoyedly remarks, her words overdosed with sarcasm: “Read your assignment and you can go back to whatever it is you are watching.”

“Wow, Y/N! Again?! Are you one of those crazy obsessed fans or something? Is Corpse Husband all you watch?“ This bitch is really poking a stick at me, huh? The only crazy obsessed fan here is her, and my friends but they are allowed. Little do all of them know, I am obsessed but not simply over a YouTuber. I’m obsessed with my boyfriend who just happens to be a YouTuber.

“No commentary, please.“ The professor scolds her, “Go on, Y/N.“

I finish reading without any other disturbances. The professor compliments my essay again when I’m done, the small incident at the beginning forgotten already. Well, not by everyone. One of my friends shot me a quick text to joke about it which only earned an eye roll from me.

My friends don’t know that I’m dating Corpse either. As I said, they are simping HARD over him while I act the most indifferent on the subject. Whenever they ask my opinion on him I either say ‘he’s OK’ or just avoid answering completely. I know saying anything more enthusiastic than that would turn into a snowball rolling down a snowy hill - I’d just keep babbling about how nice, amazing, wonderful and a gift to this world Corpse is, inevitably revealing our relationship in the process.

I’m afraid of revealing my relationship with Corpse in front of these people. They are all run on jealousy and selfishness and I can only imagine how mean they’d be about it. I’m already not too fond of them, it would only be worse if any of my personal life was exposed.

When the class finally ends I remove my headset, putting my forehead down on the desk, barely missing the keyboard. I groan in frustration and anger at myself for not fighting back. I could’ve and should’ve said something - ANYTHING. But what? That’s a question I can’t find the answer to.

“Hey...“ Corpse’s hesitant voice comes from behind me, “You ok?“

I straighten my posture, turning to him with a smile. “Yeah, but these people suck.”

I get up from my chair as he approaches me, basically falling in his arms. The comfort I feel radiating off of him makes me relax, forget the past hour or so. He has always had this effect on me. Like my own personal kryptonite to my anger and anxiety.

“Did I get you in any trouble because of that?“ His voice shows clear concern and guilt.

I wrap my arms around him tighter, burying my head in his chest. “No, don’t worry about it.“

And I really wasn’t in trouble. Not until now that the video is officially posted....

I can call these people dumb all I want but they sure put two and two together awfully fast. They recognized the lines they heard during class as the same ones from his new video that came out almost a week after the incident, aka two days ago. It’s safe to say I haven’t touched my phone or computer since.

“This is all my fault.“

Of all the horrible things I suspected would happen this has to be the worst - Corpse is blaming himself for it. I am prepared to take all the shit these people have to throw at me but seeing Corpse beating himself up over this is killing me. No amount of convincing can change his mind. Nothing I say helps.

“Please, stop doing this to yourself. Non of this is your fault, Corpse.“ I’ve repeated this sentence more than a thousand time these past forty eight hours, each time saying it more and more desperately.

“All of it is my fault, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I hate myself so much.“ Has been his reply single time.

I can’t watch him be so mean to himself. It’s the most conflicting thing when the person you love most is torturing themselves. It’s easy if it’s someone else doing it, you just kick their ass. But what are you supposed to do when the person you want to protect is the same one you need to protect them from.

Corpse has shut himself away in his recording room these past few hours and though he clearly needs to be alone, he still left the door open just a crack cause he knows I’ll be worried sick otherwise.

While I’m alone in the living room, I’ve finally managed to brace myself and build enough courage to power up my laptop. Last time it was on it was going mad with notifications.

“It’s digital. Only digital. It can’t hurt you too badly if it can’t touch you, right?“ I mumble to myself, already frustrated despite not having yet seen all the horrors that await me.

And horrors there were. Everywhere. Twitter. Instagram. Facebook.

My grades. Some pictures of me no one has ever seen. My school files. People from my class tweeting Corpse to ‘expose’ me for the ‘slut’ or ‘bitch’ I really am. Corpse hasn’t touched social media either and I plan on making sure it stays that way. God only knows how much worse he’ll get if he sees these claims.

And then, like a notification sent straight from hell, an email from my professor.

Practical lectures on Friday. Be here at 9 AM. Don’t forget your mask and gloves.

Good thing I opened my laptop when I did. Friday is tomorrow and I need to prepare for this day. Not only do I need to hit the books but I need to toughen up a bit. I can’t go there looking like I feel - like a mess.

Alright, time to put the brave face on. No more wallowing in it, at least not until tomorrow afternoon.

I make a study plan and hop in the shower. I feel the need to apologize to my hair for washing it so roughly, basically yanking at my strands from frustration that has been suppressed for too long.

I get our of the boiling hot shower, red as a lobster, and change into some clean comfortable clothes and put my ass in study mode. I remove all the scary expectations of the morning to come from my mind and let the information the textbooks has to offer seep into my brain.

* * *

I’m about to head out and, despite my put-together composure, I am a wreck inside. I actually put effort into my appearance, I mean - I even styled my hair. A pretty façade to hide a ruin.

I saw my friends’ texts last night, all three of them ending their friendship with me because they felt betrayed. I haven’t yet decided how to feel about that. Doesn’t matter at the moment, there are more important matters at hand, aka surviving the next three hours.

My college is within ten minutes walking distance from our apartment. That ten minute walk has never been so stressful, not even during exam season. The air feels a little harder to breathe, the path a little shorter to walk. And my moment of reckoning a little too close.

I feel eyes on me the second I start walking through the park of our campus. Sure, I could just be paranoid, but the feeling is too real to be just my imagination in overdrive. I’m glad I have my hair down and a mask on so the redness of my cheeks and neck isn’t on display. That’s a sign of weakness right now.

We have two an hour and a half long classes between which we have a snack break that’s half an hour. I usually enjoy that period but I’m dreading it now. These assholes can only be so mean in the presence of a professor, but during lunch break they can increase that tenfold.

“Well if it isn’t Corpse’s girl.“ I hear that a lot. The whispers are not so much whispers as intentionally loud enough for me to hear remarks. I’m not bothered by them, it’s the least they can do. If I let such a simple thing get to me, I’d be crumbling by the end of first period.

I hear some shuffling behind me and out of the corner of my eye I see, yeah you guessed it, THAT bitch. She’s standing as close to me as she can without violating Covid regulations. A mask is covering her face but the menacing look in her eyes tells me all I need to know about the interaction that’s about to go down.

“I’d ask how much he pays you for the hour.....“ her long nails tap the wooden desk, “but that’d be rude. I bet it’s tough being a maid. Do you just clean or are you a multipurpose lap dog? No offense, I’m genuinely curious.“

“Vy, would you be so kind as to give Y/N some room to breathe?“ The professor asks as he nonchalantly walks in.

Vy rolls her eyes, batting her eyelashes at me, “Talk to you later, sweetheart.” With a fake friendly wave she’s out of my hair, at least for now.

Remember what I said about these people not being as dumb as I pegged them to be? Yeah, scratch that. These fuckers actually tried getting away with taking pictures of me with flash in broad daylight. Like, HELLO! I have two functioning eyes and a brain, I’m onto you. Sadly, me having figured out their childish but hurtful methods of humiliating me doesn’t change much. They still posted the pics they took, using the most derogatory terms they could find in the English language, always making sure to tag Corpse and me both.

Needless to say, these were the longest three hours of my life.

* * *

Shutting the door to our apartment behind me causes relief of the highest levels. I feel like I’ve locked out all the bad shit I have had to deal with these past twenty four hours.

I’m tired. I’m fucking exhausted. I feel like a discarded piece of paper.

And it all starts crumbling. A wall is bound to start slowly falling apart after being hit over and over again, each time feeling the blows with a stronger intensity.

I slide down the door sitting down on the floor and slowly taking my shoes off. I put my bag beside me and wrap my arms around my knees, hiding my head in the space between them and my chest.

One tear slides down my cheek.

Another follows.

And another, this time accompanied by a choked sob.

A pair of arms wraps around the ball that my body has been shaped into. One of his hands comes up to stroke my hair gently, feeding me the comfort I have been longing for since I left the apartment this morning.

“I saw it. All of it. All the shit they talk about you. All the names they call you. And I’ve never wanted to beat so many people up simultaneously.“ His words make me raise my head from its low position, giving him a knowing look. “I wish I could. I would, but that would land me in jail. Which doesn’t even sound so bad cause I don’t like going out. Only problem is you wouldn’t be with me. I wouldn’t want you to be there with me, don’t get me wrong, I’d never want you to end up in jail. I-...” I cut him off by pressing my lips to his. A quick kiss that says so much but mainly shows the immeasurable gratitude for his support.

Seeing those awful tweets and comments had the complete opposite effect on him. He no longer blames himself but the people who actually deserve the blame - all those jerks from my college.

I pull away, giving him a small smile. “I would never let you go to jail.”

He smiles back at me, overjoyed that my mood is slowly being lifted, “Come on, I have a nice crowd that would like to meet you.”

I know exactly what he means. Felix, Sean, Rae, Dave, Sykkuno and the rest of his friends. The people I’ve been so shy and afraid to meet since day one. Being shy doesn’t really make sense now, seeing as how they know I exist and that I’m a part of Corpse’s life.

What do I have to lose?

“Guys, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.“ Corpse’s black avatar runs around my cyan one in the Among Us lobby.

I can’t help but giggle when I unmute my mic, “Hi everyone! It’s so nice to finally meet you.“ They each introduce themselves, expressing how happy they are to be meeting me too.

It’s the first time in what feels like a while that I’m truly having fun. These people are wonderful, each so unique and lovely. They never brought up the scandal nor acted as though they knew about it. I know they did and I am beyond grateful that they never mentioned it or treated me any differently because of it. Also, Corpse was streaming the whole time. I had my phone on his stream, my eyes nervously scanning the chat every now and then. I couldn’t believe it. Corpse’s real fans were just as wonderful as his friends - they were nothing but supportive and happy to have met me.

Now, I can either choose to believe these people were being so nice to me out of sympathy or I can believe they really like me and appreciate me for who I am and not for what happened to me.

I choose to believe the latter.

And while I’m still getting accustomed to this whole new spotlight, I know I’ll be able to handle it as long as I’m holding Corpse’s hand in the process. All I need is to have him beside me and I’m prepared to tackle anything.

“They love you.“ Corpse tells me once the stream is done and we’ve hopped out of the Discord call, “But I love you more.“

His arms wrap around my waist while mine instinctively find their way around his neck, “I love them, too. But they’re at the number 2 spot.”

He smirks at me, “I wonder who’s at number 1.”

I push up on my toes, putting my lips an inch away from his, “Hmm, I wonder...”

He doesn’t let me finish, silencing my teasing with a sweet, loving kiss.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @hacker-ghost @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis @waterlilypat

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magicboytrash · 3 years

Text

MHA: Save Rock and Roll

So I had this MAGNIFICENT realization today. Save Rock and Roll (Fall Out Boy’s arguable best album) lines up with some of my favorite characters. So I’m going to break it down. More below page break!

The album starts off strong, with The Phoenix.

This song deals with an absolute shit ton of fire imagery, which initially drew me to the Todoroki boys. However, the motif of changing, and rising up from the ashes reminded me of a certain... dusty man. The Phoenix in my opinion symbolizes Tomura Shigaraki. Shigaraki is incredibly impatient, always pushing forward to reach his goal, and feeling like things are stacked against him. This song perfectly encompasses this

Symbolic Lyrics: One maniac at a time we will take it back You know time crawls on when you're waiting for the song to start

The next song is a more mellow tone, Young Volcanoes

I was super torn between two very drastically different characters for this one, but finally settled on Tamaki Amajiki. This song feels like a dying summer, almost melancholically happy. It’s a song thats not full of words, but more-so feeling. Tamaki is quiet, with a shy happiness, much like this song.

Symbolic Lyrics: C'mon, make it easy, say I never mattered Run it up the flag pole

Next in line is Alone Together

When I first heard alone together, I knew it would be for someone with a troubled past. I settled on someone who I feel genuinely seeks companionship while overcoming their past. Shoto Todoroki is exemplified in this song 110%. He trauma dumps to anyone who listens, and is overcoming his past with friend/companionship.

Symbolic Lyrics: But do you got room for one more troubled soul I don't know where I'm going, But I don't think I'm coming home

Fourth on the album is Light ‘Em Up

This song could very obviously be about Dabi, but it felt more like a character who is fundamentally flawed, but hides behind a facade. Dabi owns his flaws, where as Keigo Takami. The hero commission is fundamentally flawed, of which Keigo is aware. Yet he still shows loyalty to a fundamentally broken system.

Symbolic Lyrics: My childhood spat back the monster that you see

Next up is The Mighty Fall

I immediately knew this character would be one to view falling in love as showing vulnerability. Vulnerability for them would be very rare to be shown, and it would be someone whose bonds are near unbreakable. Obviously for this, I felt Katsuki Bakugou was perfect. He is a character who would absolutely view it as “the mighty falling” when he falls in love.

Symbolic Lyrics: They say I got screws missing, well hell, only when I'm missing you And, hell yeah, I'm addict, girl, addicted to you

My favorite song on the album, Just One Yesterday

This song immediately read to me as someone who wants what other people have, and views themselves in both a self-hatred and self-deity kind of way. Essentially, they’re at the corner of God Complex and I Hate Myself Avenue. I felt this song reflected Hitoshi Shinso. This song deals with both a feeling of yearning and a sense of determination.

Symbolic Lyrics: I don't have the right name O-o-o-or the right looks But I have twice the heart Anything you say can and will be held against you So only say my name

The coolest music video on the album, Where Did the Party Go?

This song has dance party, and vibes written all over it. Therefore it goes to resident party animal, Denki Kaminari. Denki has very relaxed energy when it comes to relationships with people, and this song definitely embodies that, set to a dance-type beat.

Symbolic Lyrics: My old aches become new again My old friends become ex's again, yeah Oh where did the party go?

Next up is Death Valley

This song feels like someone holding on regardless of the circumstances, no matter how stacked against them they are. Eijiro Kirishima refuses to give up, regardless of how badly he is hurt. Death Valley deals with the feeling of giving it your all, even if it won’t be enough.

Symbolic Lyrics: I'm either gone in an instant Or here 'til the bitter end I, I never know

One of the most complex songs on the album, Rat-a-Tat

This song is a call to arms. It urges the rejects of society to get on their feet and respond. It’s also an anthem to people wishing for a world they belong in. For me, that is Touya Todoroki/Dabi. Touya longs to have been accepted by his father, yet he never was. There are so SO so many lyrics that make sense for this song to be Touya.

Symbolic Lyrics:

1. To get on St. Peter's list But you need to lower your standards 'Cause it's never Getting any better than this

2. Remember me as I was not as I am

3. I'm the lonelier version of you I just don't know where I went wrong

Getting closer to the end, we have Miss Missing You.

This song (especially with recent episodes/manga) is heartbreaking when applied to a very specific person. Shota Aizawa has so many people he will carry with him, in his heart and memories. This song feels like Aizawa sitting down with Class 1-A and being honest with them about the hero lifestyle, and that the heroes do not always win. Its heartbreaking when you look at it through this lense.

Symbolic Lyrics: Sometimes before it gets better The darkness gets bigger The person that you'd take a bullet for, is behind the trigger Oh, we're fading fast

The titular and final song on the album is Save Rock and Roll

One listen to this song and it becomes apparent that it is a hero who will defend his beliefs to the hilt. For us, that is Izuku Midoriya. Izuku understands the flaws of both sides of the coin, and has chosen to become a symbol of peace that truly everyone can unite behind. Save Rock and Roll deals with the resentment heroes feel towards those who helped put them in their positions of power, and their resentment of society for needing to be saved. Yet Izuku (and the protagonist of the song) still answer the call to heroism. They follow what is truly right.

Symbolic Lyrics: Well, how'd it get to be only me (me, me, me, me)? Like I'm the last damn kid still kicking that still believes I will defend the faith

#tomura shigaraki #tamaki amajiki #shoto todoroki #keigo takami #katsuki bakugo #hitoshi shinso #izuku midoriya #denki kaminari #kirishima eijirou #touya todoroki #dabi #shota aizawa #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha

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sweet-symphony0 · 4 years

Text

Legacy

Author’s Note: A very special Twin Tuesday piece, and my first multi-chaptered fic. An idea that’s been sitting in my head for about six months now, and here I finally share it with all with you. Let’s go, fam.

Summary: Rami stared between the breakdown in front of him, and the script he’d received with it off to the side, before back to the breakdown in shock, his mind reeling. He wasn’t really reading this, was he?

“Male, Age: early-mid 50s, Height: 5′9″, Ethnicity: Egyptian” and then underneath that read-

“Name: Sami Malek”

A time when Sami gets a movie made about him and his career, and Rami plays the role of his twin brother. "Emotional” doesn’t begin to quite cover it.

Tags: @the-real-ramimalekpeen @xmxisxforxmaybe @killerqueengigi @laminy @hah0106 @ramilicious @ramimedley @edteche2 @txmel @its-just-me-sadiya @sassystrawberryk @safinsscar

Chapter One

---

The classroom was silent for once, something for which Sami was grateful. It was nearing 4:30pm, school had been out for an hour, and it was nice to be able to catch up on grading in peace. He cherished time like this, no interruptions, it was the only time he had during the day to work like this. He watched as his red pen slowly ran out of ink, and he scribbled off to the side on a spare sheet of paper to see if anything would come out. Sighing, he tossed his pen in the trash, and reached over into his bag for another one.

Successful in finding one, he was halfway through the quiz he was grading when his phone buzzed and he looked up in curiosity, reaching for it. An email, and his heart sped up a little bit when he saw who it was from.

“Hi, Sami,” the email read, “Hope you’re well! I thought I’d try to catch you at a good time, attached is the latest draft of the script. When you’ve got some time, read it over and give me call when you’re done. I think we’re close. We’re really, really close. Looking forward to your thoughts! Thanks, Amie.” And then underneath, a PDF of what Sami knew was a script.

A script about him. About his life, his career as a teacher. How the hell that had happened, or why him, Sami didn’t know.

There was no way he was going back to work now. Packing up his things, he shoved his things into his bag and rushed home, grabbing a beer out of the fridge before he opened his laptop to pull up the script. He��d read this about twenty times by now, but that was okay. Editing was part of what he did for a living, after all. Propping himself out across the couch, he began to read, just like he’d been doing for weeks and months now, in this exact position, sometimes on a phone call while he did.

He sometimes couldn’t believe this was potentially happening. Potentially meaning, just because they had a script didn’t mean a film would get made for a few years, if at all. But it was still surreal enough. Sami wished he could tell Rami, his heart aching at the thought.

Rami knew he was working on something, he was aware Sami was a consult for a project that was some kind of film, but he had no idea what else it was about, and every time he asked, Sami just mentioned the NDA he’d signed, and that Rami would find out soon enough. Which was true.

He only hoped Rami wouldn’t kill him when he found out, keeping a secret that long.

He read on, making little notes where needed and by the time he reached the end of the 110 page script, he was left breathless. Amie was right; they were close. He was elated, and by the time he read it a second time, he couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

It was a script that followed his career from his early days out of college working as an ESL teacher, to middle school, to high school English, and finally, to AP English. The script reminded him in many ways, of To Sir, With Love, and as he glanced at his own copy of the book resting on the shelf, he was filled with joy at that comparison. He knew he was a well-liked teacher, everyone said so, he just didn’t think it went so far that Hollywood had taken interest in him. But here they were.

Sami couldn’t believe the trajectory his life had taken sometimes.

Reaching for his phone, he dialed Amie, waiting for her to pick up.

“Hi Sami,” Amie chirped. “That was fast.”

Sami laughed. “There weren’t many changes.”

“No, like I said, I think it’s great, we’re close. But it’s not about what I think. Got any notes?”

“Don’t I always?” And Amie laughed, and Sami took that as he cue to launch right in.

Later, when he was off the phone and sitting on his couch and listening to the silence of the room, the shock never failed to hit him, even after all this time. A near two year endeavor at this point, and he still wasn’t used to it. Part of him wondered, not for the first time, why it was him. Partly he wondered, if his last name had anything to do with it. Feeling slightly sick at that, he went for another beer.

“You’re an incredible teacher in your own right,” Rami would say if he could hear that. “You deserve this.”

Did he? Someone certainly thought he did. Sami sighed and swallowed his beer, staring at his laptop again.

A fucking movie. Jesus Christ.

---

When Sami walked into work the next morning, his morning flew by with handing back papers he’d graded, continuing his lessons on Fahrenheit 451, and chatting with his coworkers in the staff room while grabbing coffee. By the time he made it back to his desk to do a cursory check of his phone, he saw another email from Amie.

The subject was titled “Working Final Draft.” And underneath it read:

“Here are those changes we’ve added in, and if nothing else comes up (which I doubt), this is our final draft for now. Congratulations! This is no small feat, you should feel proud about this. This is exciting. I’ll give you a call later in the week to talk about getting producers and a studio on board. Thanks! Amie” and once again attached, was the script.

Sami stared, and reread the last sentence three times. Producers. Studio. Shit, it wasn’t just a script anymore. Hitting reply, he gave a quick response for the times he was free, saying he was looking forward to her call.

It was only Tuesday, too. It was going to be a long week.

---

“Hi there,” Sami smiled when Amie picked up his FaceTime call. “How was your week?” Amie exhaled, and Sami couldn’t help but grin. “That bad?”

“No, it was just stressful. Lots to do, as I’ve mentioned. But first thing first-studios will be more on board to sign onto this film if they know there’s talent involved. Which is brings us to-”

“Rami.”

“Rami, yes.” Amie watched him steadily, albeit a little sadly. “I know how badly you’ve wanted to tell him, and I’m so sorry I made you wait this long. But for professional reasons, personal aside, I didn’t want him to know about it until there was a solid script attached. Which I think you can agree with.”

“Yeah,” Sami nodded. “I didn’t want to get his hopes up if it fell through.” He paused. “Mine, either.”

“Right,” Amie said. “But now I think it’s time to tell him. The sooner he agrees, or by chance if he doesn’t-”

“He won’t.”

“Alright,” Amie laughed. “Just saying. The sooner we say he’s signed on, we can pitch around that we’ve got a script that Rami Malek is attached to, which will attract a studio to finance this.”

Sami grimaced. “Hearing his name like that is so weird. Like a brand.”

“I know. It’s weird for me too, knowing how long I’ve known you two. I’d feel the same especially if it were my sister.”

“How is she?”

“She’s good. She says hi, wants to know if you and Rami want to go for drinks one night.”

“Oh, fuck yeah, I haven’t seen her in ages. Yeah, let’s do it. A twin night.”

“I’ll tell her that,” Amie grinned. “And yes, a twin night. Which brings me back to your twin.” And Sami nodded. “I’m not wasting any time in sending this breakdown to his agent, along with the script, with your permission.” She caught the expression on Sami’s face. “What is it?”

“Nothing...” Sami said, biting his lip. “It’s just...is this worth it? It’s a good enough story to tell? It’s not too Dead Poets Society?”

“Sami,” Amie said with fond smile. “I promise it’s great. We wouldn’t have pushed this long and hard if we didn’t believe in it. Dead Poets Society is a classic. To Sir, With Love is a classic. And I promise that you, Sami Malek, are a classic. People love feel good teacher memoirs. It makes them feel good, tugs on their heartstrings. Especially this script.”

Sami swallowed, nodding. “Okay.” And he glanced at a photo of he and Rami on the wall, his heart hammering. “Okay. You’re right.”

---

“Hey Rami,” Doug held up a brown envelope as he passed through the doors of Rami’s makeshift office. “Just dropping this off, I received a script I think you might like. It didn’t give me much, just something about a teacher.”

Rami reached over to take it out of Doug’s hands, puzzled as he peered at it. “A teacher? That’s...alright. I’ll read it if you think the breakdown is good.”

“Well, I talked to the agent for the screenwriter, and she said so far, you’re the only one who has this script.” Rami’s eyebrows shot up. “I know. It’s not a open casting call, she only wants you, so I figured the least you could do is read it and give an answer, right? Being courteous.”

“Right,” Rami murmured, his intrigue peaking. “Well, I’ll do that this weekend. Is there a rush for an answer?”

“None. Take your time, read it over, think about it and give me a call on what you decide.”

“Great. Thank you so much, Doug.”

“Anytime,” Doug shot him a grin and patted his shoulder, and he was gone.

Left alone, Rami stared at the envelope, making a mental note to bring it home with him, before he turned his attention back to the current script he held. He very nearly forgot all about the script in the envelope until he was packing up, and grabbed it hurriedly, remembering what Doug had said.

You’re the only one who has this script.

Safe to say, Rami was definitely intrigued. If he was the only one offered the role, that meant he could cultivate it from the ground up. He didn’t get a chance to look over what it was until the next day though, when he was home, sprawled across his couch with a glass of wine.

Tearing open the envelope, he felt the script first, and then the single sheet which he knew would be the breakdown. It was rare he got physical copies of scripts these days, but he appreciated it; something about having an old school feel to it. Whoever wrote this clearly knew that. He sipped his wine as he read over the breakdown first, and choked when he saw what it said, nearly dropping his glass in the process.

Rami stared between the breakdown in front of him, and the script he’d received with it off to the side, before back to the breakdown in shock, his mind reeling. He wasn’t really reading this, was he?

“Male

Age: early-mid 50s

Height: 5′9″, Ethnicity: Egyptian”

And underneath that read-

“Name: Sami Malek”

Rami read it over three times to make sure what he was seeing wasn’t a mistake, wasn’t a dream. Rushing to grab the script, he nearly tore it as he flipped to the first page, reading the first couple of lines as the header established a school setting. Further down, he read the first scene in it’s entirety, but the further he read, the more he realized this wasn’t a joke. This was a real script, not a prank. This was a script written about his teacher twin brother. And then he remembered what Sami had told him long ago, that he was a consult on a film, and with a sick feeling, he realized this was the film.

Sami had apologized for not being able to tell him.

Sami had told him he’d signed an NDA, but he’d hoped Rami would know about it soon. That Sami would be the first person to tell him when he could.

Rami’s grip on the wine glass loosened, and it toppled to the ground, spilling into the carpet, but Rami didn’t care, still staring at the script, a feeling of betrayal sinking in his stomach.

“You bastard,” he whispered. “You bastard.”

But in truth, he knew why Sami hadn’t told him. He knew the ins and outs of this industry, with all its secrecy, and he wished Sami had confided in him regardless. This wasn’t Sami’s territory, it was his, and he wished he could’ve been there all this time to help Sami navigate those waters. But glancing at the screenplay, he was at least glad to see the name printed on it under “Screenplay By”.

Amie was a college friend of theirs, a fellow screenwriter, and knowing she was the who had written this, brought Rami comfort. Sami hadn’t been alone, then.

But even still, it stung, knowing he’d been left out.

There was a note attached to the script, and Rami recognized his brother’s handwriting.

“Please don’t be mad. Read it, call me.”

Rami snorted as he stared at the note, before he got up and went into the kitchen to dig out the bleach from under the sink, and as he scrubbed the wine stain from out of his carpet, he pretended it was the bleach making his eyes sting with tears. He took his time cleaning, needing to get his head on straight before doing anything else.

When he felt sufficiently calmer, he looked at the script again, before reaching for his phone with trembling hands.

Sami picked up on the third ring, his voice oddly quiet, as if he already anticipated the reason for Rami’s call. “Hey, Rams.”

“Sami,” Rami croaked, his voice wavering, vision blurring, "is there something you want to tell me?”

---

Next Chapter

#rami malek #sami malek #twin tuesday #twin tuesday fic #the malek twins #malek twin appreciation #y'all you have no idea how excited for this I've been

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aestheticvoyage2021 · 3 years

Photo

Day 315: Thursday November 11, 2021 - “We have a 5 month old”

This post is contributed by Audire, reflecting on another check mark reached on William’s journey through Year 1. We now have a 5 month old!

We have a 5 month old in the house. The days are long sometimes, and the nights are longer, but the weeks keep flying by. Tomorrow, William will be 22 weeks. And I cant hardly believe it, while at the same time I cant hardly remember life before him, like he has been part of our unit forever. He is amazing. He is happy. He is funny. He is sweet. He loves his dogs, and his dad. He beams his big-cheesy-gum-filled-open-mouth-smile every single time he sees them, almost like its the first time. A lot of this last month was also spent with Grammie in the house. She lived here with us for 3 whole weeks, and Bixby too. And William shared his joy and laughter and love with them too. He dove into Grammies arms from my arms for the first time indicating he wanted to be passed from one person to the next. He started sitting, and not just the propped up wobbly sitting, but he can hold himself seemingly endlessly even holding a toy with both hands and examining it with his back straight. Of course we have to be right there to catch him if he loses his balance but he can bend down at the waist and lift himself back up to a full sit without help. He’s getting better and better at rolling, though he still prefers to be sitting now that he figured that out. He also turned the pages of a book a few times, and has started babbling, bababababa’s and mamamamama’s come out between his squeals and his raspberries and jibber jabber chatter. Sometimes he looks really serious when he talks and strings together something that sounds like a command. Its adorable. Everything he does, even when he is sad, is adorable. Sleep has been our biggest struggle. If he could have it his way, he would have full access to the all you can eat booby-buffet all night long and be as close to his mama as he could be. We are trying to wean from this, and make changes, and at the same time allowing space for it when it is possible. So a nap here and there, and sometimes 1/2 way through the night after 4 wake ups before 4 am, I will give in and give him what he wants. Because why the hell not? Ive read both schools of sleep (the Cry it out vs Console) and it makes more sense to me that the biologic needs for consoling make perfect sense. And Im here, home, from work, taking on this role not just on the periphery, but head on. Its my full time job. So I feel I should give it while I can. 110% of me. And so I do. There will be days that come too soon when he doesnt need or want me in the middle of the night and in the middle of the day, and as fast as the weeks keep flying off the shelf, I know Im going to miss it, and soon forget about the fatigue and 5 wake up nights, and wish he needed me the same way again. We have a 5 month old in the house. And I only can say that for a few more weeks. So I gladly soak up his love, and snuggles, and extra time that just he and I get to spend together in the middle of the wakeful nights.

1 Month 2 Month 3 Month 4 Month

Song: Darius Rucker - It Wont Be Like This For Long

Quote: “Children have neither past nor future. They enjoy the present, which very few of us do.” —Jean De La Bruyere

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green-eyed-whumpster · 4 years

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My OC Universe: Rowan 110

Chapter 110 Summary: Winter has fallen and Rowan and Peter test out the new levels of their relationship. (Tags: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @much-ado-about-whumping, @abitefullofeverything, @whump-me-all-night-long, @sky-or-something-idfk and @tears-and-lilies)

“We seem to get into a lot of arguments,” Rowan murmured as he stirred around his dinner, glancing sheepishly up to Peter.

“That’s good,” Peter said, surprising Rowan. “It means you aren’t just going to let me say whatever I want without having your own opinion heard. You want to be taken seriously and I can do that if you remind me you want to be individual.”

“But, I-I don’t want to be entirely individual,” Rowan whispered. “I don’t know…I probably wouldn’t be good on my own,”

“Maybe you won’t need to be, Rowan, most humans benefit from companionship.” Peter replied, lifting a spoonful of dinner to his mouth.

“Are you my companion?” Rowan asked. “Is it like a friend?” Peter hesitated for a moment before nodding, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Yes, to both. A companion is like a friend and I would very much like to be one to you,”

“I think you would be my best friend,” Rowan said, beginning to eat his dinner. “Wo-would…could I be yours? Please?” Peter snorted weakly and swallowed his mouthful with haste to defend his action.

“Absolutely, Rowan!” He began chuckling. “I am honoured to be your best friend. And of course you are mine,” Rowan flushed as he smiled softly down at the table, spoon raising and lowering into the remains of his food as he thought to himself.

It was quite sweet, Peter considered, that a creature such as Rowan would want Peter to be his closest companion. Even after it all, even after the way they interact, Rowan doesn’t trust anyone to look after him as much as Peter. He was curious as to why it wasn’t Cordelia, but then, Cordelia had left, and just prior to her leaving, they had an uncomfortable interaction – that was all Peter knew, but judging by the position he saw them in the morning of the argument, it wasn’t too hard to deduce.

The next day one of the first snows of the winter fell around their home, it was a gentle dusting, and it melted early into the grass, but for the half-hour that Rowan spent in it was incredible.

As soon as snow began falling at the castle, Rowan was forced to remain inside, William wouldn’t give him anymore clothes, and the tunics he was given were for pure decoration. He never got to go outside until the snowfall melted. The numbness was freeing with that knowledge, being able to dig his fingers into the powdered ice and feel the prickling pain was amazing. He had never considered pain to be its own form of freedom. And probably Peter wouldn’t approve, but he enjoyed that small freedom that pain could cause.

Peter had given him some warmer clothes, thick woollen trousers and heavy cloaks that reminded him of Cordelia. During the more frequent rainy days, or when it was too cold to be outside, he helped Rowan take in the larger articles, using the remaining cuffs from the trouser legs they had taken in to make earmuffs for the boy, or gloves. Rowan knew how to knit somewhat, and within a week had made a scarf as long as he was tall for Peter.

Rowan would read some nights, while Peter shaved wood down to hairpins over a canvas to stop the sawdust from making a mess. He didn’t know all the words, but would shimmy his chair closer to where Peter was sitting so the man could see over his shoulder to where Rowan had gotten stuck.

“Prejudice,” Peter said softly, reading the word above Rowan’s fingertip out loud.

“Is that how it’s spelled?” Rowan commented. “I always thought it was spelled pred-judice,” He looked up to meet Peter’s eyes and the man shook his head, lowering his tools to indicate to the word.

“Because the core word is judice, and the prefix is ‘pre’, meaning ‘before’. So prejudice means ‘before judgement’, technically.” He explained.

“I don’t understand,” Rowan admitted quietly and Peter smiled.

He explained to Rowan how prefixes could change the meaning of the word depending on them: proactive, undo, disagree, and so on. And how the prefix will usually create an opposite meaning.

“Why is it so complicated?” Rowan asked and Peter shrugged.

“Just to make it a worthwhile skill I suppose. Or to limit the people who can use it.” He answered. “But that means you’re that much more talented to be able to use it,” Rowan smiled softly and turned back to his page.

#whump #medieval whump #my writing #oc #Rowan #Peter #PTSD whumpee #coping mechanisms #learning to read #snow

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ottitty · 3 years

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Got any advice for assignment anxiety??? My general anxiety has fuckin SPIKED since the quarter started on Monday (I have vaguely 21 assignments to do, I gave up counting 'cause I have 20 credits) and the moment I remembered I still hadn't checked out something for one of my classes I got immediate arm tremors, I'm kinda hoping that a new useable desk arriving next Monday is gonna help me focus and get more work done in a shorter amount of time (currently doing shit on my bed) but until then I'm just trying to not sink further in the quicksand :/ wasn't really sure who to turn to for advice and it's 110% okay if you can't/don't/won't answer since this WAS just popping up out of the blue

Hey Anon, I’m so sorry for answering so late.

Honestly? I still struggle with that shit and I'm still figuring it out. The best advice I can give is to break it down. Talk to your teachers, see what they want you to focus on first.

I’m not sure how much time you have left, but I’d say alternate between bigger and smaller assignments.

So for example, say you have four weeks left and you have 21 assignments to do them, and maybe... six of them are worth a larger portion of your grade. Okay, then take one of those bigger assignments plus maybe three smaller assignments you have, and alternate between those throughout the week. In the morning, start with the smaller assignments to warm up, then after an hour go to the bigger one.

Depending on the size of it, you can also break that larger assignment down. Say you have an essay that needs to be done, set a goal of at least one paragraph a day, and then if you’re working five days a week, you should have it done by then.

The most important part of this is that it doesn’t have to be good, it just has to be done. Have an assignment that maybe isn’t totally finished or you wanted to go back and edit it? Don’t bother, just get it in. I know it sucks ass, and I know you want to do well and you don’t wanna fuck up or come off as stupid, but it just needs to get out. Take it from someone who’s been stuck in that vicious cycle for years with everything and anything; you’re not gonna go back to it because your anxiety won’t let you. It’s just gonna sit at the back of your mind and take up all your mental energy, so just don’t do it.

Another really important thing is to reward yourself. I know it feels like you don’t deserve it, but you gotta do something to keep your motivation up. Do what you need. If it’s giving yourself a chocolate chip or sticker for every problem, then its doing that. Do not let fear be your only motivator.

Take breaks too. Make sure you’re taking a break every two hours or so, make sure you are eating and drinking (do not stop taking care of your bodily needs as a form of punishment, that includes eating).

Most of all, be kind to yourself and your body. This is a hard time right now, and regardless of what decisions you made that got yourself into this, you are here right now. There isn’t anything you can do to change the past, so you might as well use the now to break that cycle and make sure you are still prioritizing your mental and physical health over school.

There’s this trick that my therapist taught me a while back. It’s that if you are doing an assignment and you think “oh I don’t want to do this, I want a break,” tell yourself “one more page/problem.” The second time it happens, tell yourself the same thing. The third time, take a five-minute break and come back to it after with a fresh mind. During that break, do not scroll through Tumblr or watch tv. Do something that keeps you moving that’s not mentally exhausting or related to your work. Go for a walk, even if it’s downstairs to the fridge, have a quick conversation with a friend (let them know you have to get back to work in five minutes and make sure its someone who will keep you accountable), drink some water or have a snack, go to the bathroom, do some yoga, draw/doodle a bit, fold some paper cranes, but make sure you are getting back to it and not distracting yourself. (Pro-tip: don’t start reading and don’t write unless it’s journaling, and do not look at your grades/to-do lists on your break).

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royalcordelia · 5 years

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This Bed of Recall and Recollections (1/1)

Summary: Most of the time, it’s convenient to have your husband as your doctor, except for the times he condemns you bedrest. A very pregnant Anne decides to open her chest of old memories to pass her bedrest time. (A future shirbert drabble).

Notes: Happy belated holidays @cresmix! Here’s a little somethin’ somethin’ for you because you and your kind heart deserve it. This was a request that @shirberts-sherbert came up with, so thank you for the idea. (Also y’all follow me because I write well, not because I photoshop well, but I gave it 110%. Even if it does look a lil funky lmao).

***

Anne knew there were bright sides to her current situation. The bed was impossibly soft underneath her, but stiff enough to support her weight against the headboard. She didn’t have to wear shoes in bed, either - an added plus. Just the thought of jamming her swollen toes into her dainty slippers as she had during the past several months had her cringing.

You were given your imagination for times like these, she scolded herself. There are plenty of lovely things about being on bedrest. Why, I’ve had time to read all the books on my list, and then some! A bitter voice in the back of her mind reminded her that she’d read all the books on her list already - twice, some of them three times! Gilbert promised to bring home some new reading material soon, but he’d been so busy at his medical practice, that she’d long since stopped asking if he bore her any surprises.

Now there’s a bright side worth thanking the Lord for, she decided. Not every woman, exhausted with the many weights of pregnancy, got to have her husband as her doctor. Anne argued that Gilbert was better attuned to her symptoms than any of his patients. Perks of sharing a bed with him, she supposed. There was no husband around with more compassion and love for his ever-glowing wife, even with the unpleasant oddities it brought to their relationship.

But it also meant that when her blood pressure had spiked to dangerous heights, Gilbert had said with very firm stringency that Anne S. C. Blythe - Queen of Conquering Obstacles and Goddess of Fortitude - was condemned to bedrest. At least until the new member of the house arrived. When the decree had been made, Anne was wise enough not to argue.

“Every time a man speaks like he’s got a sour cranberry on his tongue, it means he means business,” said Susan, their beloved housekeeper, to Mrs. Doctor Dear later that night. “And that you may tie to.”

Anne knew her husband better than that, though. Gilbert’s word, of course, did mean business, but she knew that a tiny part of him still held onto a poisonous drop of guilt. Susan might have claimed to know the Doctor better than most, but Anne was the one that Gilbert laid his head upon, weeping into her chest that it was his fault their first baby had died. If I had just paid better attention...There must have been something I missed. How could I? My own daughter? Not even Anne’s softest touches through his hair or the honesty of her own unnecessary forgiveness could take away all of his remorse. When she’d informed him of their second chance, he’d been even more attentive than he’d been the first time.

Thus, Anne was growing into a prisoner in her own bed. Her loving, caring husband, her jailor.

With a sigh, Anne turned her gaze toward the window. Her soul sighed. It was golden hour, the most beloved time of day, when the PEI sun took a few moments out of its busy day to say hello to her. It always looked so sweet over the garden, the early spring buds glistening as if they had been touched by Midas himself. Against the bedposts, Anne tried to imagine the soft moss underneath her fingers or the richness of the soil of her flowers, but the mental image fell flat.

Her window, though...Her window was only a few feet away from the bed. If she could just take a glimpse at the garden, maybe her heart wouldn’t feel so starved.

The coolness of the floor felt wonderful underneath her heat swollen feet. With a careful hand behind supporting her back, Anne gently rose up for the first time in days. Her vision swirled, but she ignored the momentary vertigo and began to creep forward with astonishing stealth. If Susan heard her up on her feet, there’d be hell to pay, especially when Gilbert got home. Just as Anne was able to take a self-indulgent glance at her garden, a familiar voice broke through the bird-song silence.

“Sweetheart, what on earth are you doing up?”

Anne jolted, and she staggered like a drunken fool for balance. Gilbert was at her side before she could see him fly over to her, one hand in hers to keep her steady, the other against her back. She could sense a scolding on the tip of his tongue, but he bit his lips against it as he guided her back to bed. Settling at the edge of the bed together, Gilbert rubbed her knuckles with a tender touch.

He could’ve begun his love-driven admonishment, but instead, he said, “A parcel came from Green Gables today. I stopped in town to pick it up.”

Just the mention of home was enough for some of the weight on her shoulders to dissipate. Her gaze drifted from the wrapped box at the end of the bed back up to the hazel warmth of Gilbert’s eyes. He gave her his daily “ I’m home” kiss and helped her shift back into her perch on the bed against the headboard.

“I know that bedrest isn’t the most stimulating activity in the world, so I asked Marilla to send this,” Gilbert continued, placing the parcel in her lap.

“What is it?” Anne asked, though she had already started tearing the brown paper away. She gasped when she found the wooden box underneath, fingers grazing over the grained smoothness. “It’s the box I kept when we were in college.”

“I remembered you had a memory box, but you never told me what was in it. I hoped whatever was inside, it could be enough to convince you to sit in bed.”

Anne lifted the lid away and the contents of box overflowed onto her lap.

“It’s so full because I kept every single letter you sent me over four years. But there’s some sketches from when I asked Cole to teach me how to draw. Oh, and look, a few pictures too.”

Gilbert settled at her side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“If it’s every letter I sent you in college, that’s more reading than all of the Jane Austen books put together. We better start now if we want to finish by the time our new gentleman arrives.”

Right on time, Susan rapped against the door with her elbow, a tray of tea and biscuits in her hands.

“I put the tea on the stove as soon as the doctor came home. These are the last of the biscuits you like, Mrs. Doctor, but I’m baking more tomorrow. And there’s a piece of my cherry pie for you, Dr. Dear.”

Anne grabbed Susan’s hand before she could walk away, and pressed a firm kiss to it.

“You’re a blessing untold, Susan, thank you.”

When they were alone again, Anne grabbed the first thing she could find: a letter. The bluish hue of the envelope and the familiar scrawl told her what she already knew. This letter had been one of the later ones she’d received during their fourth year of college. The blue envelopes had been Gilbert’s way of trying out professional stationary, and each letter was monogrammed at the top with the initials GJB. As for the nearly illegible scrawl of her name and address, that was a bad habit he’d picked up from his medical professors.

“When did I send that one?” he asked, peeking over from his own reading.

“The April of 1904. I remember it without even needing to check.”

It took a moment, but Gilbert suddenly remembered what the letter said. He could picture exactly what his desk and room looked like the day he wrote it with the clarity of a photograph. Long lost in fireplace ash, there were several burned attempts that had come before the finished product that Anne know held in her hands.

“This is a question I had every intention of asking in person, but I find my patience has evaporated with the months our of separation,” Anne read softly. “Say that there was a velvet pouch in my pocket. Say that it contained a peridot ring that my mother once bore on her own hand. (Breathe, darling, I’m not proposing over correspondence. What I mean to ask is - ) Would you find yourself open to the idea of wearing it in the foreseeable future? If there was a fellow who had a question to ask - a plead, a beg really - would you be ready to answer the next time you saw him?”

The ring of his tender descriptions now rested on Anne’s hand, a little tight with her swollen fingers, but still glistening and lovely just the same. Gilbert took the hand and pressed a kiss to the stone that his father had chosen for his mother, the same stone that was a perfect green on his redheaded wife.

“Do you remember what I replied?” she asked, nuzzling her cheek against his touch.

“Not exactly,” Gilbert admitted with a fond smile. “I think as soon as I read your response, my entire brain stopped functioning and I all but floated around Toronto for the next month.”

Her shoulders shook against him as she chuckled.

“What’s that you’re looking at?” Gilbert revealed the journal that had been placed in his lap. Its leather was the same color as Anne’s girlhood horse, Belle and was tied around the middle with a strap. “Ah, the proof of my stint with art.”

“You were genuinely talented!” Gilbert argued. To prove his point, he flipped open the sketchbook to one of the middle pages. “This one is my favorite.”

Of course it was, she thought with an amused smirk. He had skipped over the pages where she’d sketched pink carnations - briefly wondering if he recognized they were the ones he’d brought her during one of his visits - and focused on the page where Anne had drawn one of the Blythe-Lacroix apples.

“Anne Blythe, Gilbert S. C. Blythe…” he read with interest. “If I didn’t know better, Mrs. Blythe, I’d say you were in love with me!”

“Oh, be quiet. If I didn’t doodle my feelings like an infatuated schoolgirl, I’d have dropped out of Queen’s and transferred to Toronto.”

“You wouldn’t have found arguments from me,” Gilbert said with a shrug.

Anne nudged him with her elbow, but kept flipping through the box with interest. Mostly, she found letters. To his delight, it seemed that not a single one had been lost over time. Each one was a treasure, and she’d treated them as such. Some of his more romantic ones appeared to have more wear, as if she’d found them in her hours of loneliness and reread the words in his voice. There were tear smudges, small rips in the corners, memories of smiles, and residual pining that never actually went away. Some of Gilbert’s later letters admitted the way he’d desired her, craved her touch and counted the days before he could love her in the ways he was meant to as a man. It made Anne glad that Marilla had always respected her privacy. If Rachel Lynde had read those letters and found Gilbert Blythe longing to kiss the soft skin of Anne’s breast, she likely would’ve shipped the young girl to France or England herself.

Lost in her amusement, Anne almost didn’t hear Gilbert sigh beside her. He held an old photograph in his hands, one that she groaned at the sight of. She’d sat for several portraits during her lifetime, but never before did she feel as unattractive as she did in the one he held.

“I ought to have just thrown that in the fire,” she commented. He gaped at her in surprise.

“What do you mean? Why have I never seen this one?!” he exclaimed. His eyes roved over the picture, and suddenly he felt like the eighteen-year-old boy losing his breath at the sight of her. In the portrait, Anne wore a demure, neutral smile on her lips and wine red blossoms behind her ear. And her hair ...Gilbert suspected that if Aphrodite or Hera were really out there, they envied the ocean waves of her auburn hair. “Anne, this is breathtaking.”

Anne paused before finally answering in a rush. “I originally planned to send it to you because you’d been asking for one, and I know how much you like my red hair so I asked the man to hand color for me.”

“I think he did a fine job!” Gilbert added, still confused.

“He did a fine job commenting on my hair, too,” Anne stated bitterly. “He said he never saw such salmon hair in all his years. Salmon, Gilbert. There was no way I could send the picture after that.”

Gilbert laughed heartily at this, shaking his head at the stubborn rage of his beautiful, impeccable wife.

“Well, darling, what’s mine is yours, and what’s yours…” He snatched the picture from her hands and stuffed it inside his jacket pocket. “Is mine! I’ll be holding onto this in my own memory box.”

Anne might’ve argued, but he rose from the bed with a kiss to her forehead. In any other circumstances, she would have followed him until she could reclaim what was hers, but that would’ve involved rising like Christ from her bed. If she owed her husband anything after all the years he’d stayed loyal through her stubbornness and her flares of anger, it was to heed his word and remain in bed.

Still, with him gone, she missed his warmth and wondered if she might convince him to sit beside her just a little longer.

“You need to eat, my love,” he concluded. “I’m going to go help Susan with dinner. Drink some tea, alright? You need to be sure you’re drinking enough fluids.”

“I’m hydrating for two, I know.”

Right before he disappeared out of the room, he let his eyes linger on her - the loveliness of her white bed gown, the sunlight on her hair, the loving glint in her warm blue gaze. He could taste the words on the tip of his tongue, hundreds of I love yous that he could mutter with all the breath in his lungs. Instead, he exhaled a shaky breath and said, “Let me know if you find anything else of interest.”

Anne nodded with a smile, finally looking the most comfortable she’d been in days. She reached back down to the very bottom of the box and pulled out the oldest letter she it contained.

“My Anne, I cannot think of a more wonderful way to start a letter…”

#anne of green gables #anne with an e #shirbert #shirbert fic #shirbert edit #tessa writes #catch this on ao3 too!#i mentioned this on ao3 but the last line is from my other fic #which tickles me PINK

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sablelab · 4 years

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Covert Operations - Chapter 110

SYNOPSIS: Madeline reviews the mission report and studies Claire’s medical file. She rings through to Med Lab to speak with Dr. Foster. Murtagh has a surprise visit from his paramour Bóinne after their night of passion. Meanwhile when Murtagh arrives at Med Lab he is surprised to see Fergus already there. Madeline has lunch with Operations in the tower and they discuss the ramifications of the mission.

Madeline needed Dr Foster’s findings as the report would be the key to ascertain the extent of Claire's injuries both physically and mentally so as to determine how long and what kind of rehabilitation would be necessary for her recovery.

Chapter 109 and all other chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

THANK YOU for reading my story. Stay home and social distance like the Beatles. We will get through this together if we all do the right thing. Take care.

CHAPTER 110

Once Madeline had finished reading Murtagh’s and Geillis Duncan’s debrief of the mission she pulled out Claire's personnel file and studied it for a long while. She read all of her previous entries over the last couple of months prior to the Rising Dragons’ mission to Hong Kong. Claire had been very fortunate that no significant physical injuries had been recorded, however, with her torture at the hands of the triad; her personal profile would need to be updated with the most current data from this mission. Injuries this time would be considerable; hence it was imperative that Claire’s evaluation be noted in detail. For that Madeline needed Dr Foster’s findings from Med Lab. The report would be the key to ascertain the extent of Claire’s injuries both physically and mentally so as to determine how long and what kind of rehabilitation would be necessary for a speedy recovery. In Madeline’s mind, the sooner Claire recovered the quicker she could return to the mission. Section’s leaders also needed to know if the injuries that Jamie had incurred would hinder his recovery. The fact that he’d had life threatening surgery was a worry. If James Fraser was unable to complete the Rising Dragons’ mission with Claire then this could prove problematic. Although he was a strong specimen of a man and his physical health had been excellent, the trauma of the surgery could impede his recovery. However, despite what he’d been through, she didn’t see a problem with his healing, but once again she would need to speak with the doctors. Jamie and Claire had experienced the trauma at the monastery simultaneously. It seemed sensible that their recovery could be undertaken together too. It would be more expeditious and by helping each other they would need less time and hence would be back in the field quicker, but Madeline still had some concerns with this idea. It was the best-case scenario that she could see, however in so doing, it created other problems. By allowing Jamie and Claire to recuperate together may just open up a Pandora’s box of trouble. This scenario was only exacerbated when her attention turned to another tangent … their relationship. Looking away from her monitor for a moment, Madeline thought about the rather interesting development that both she and Operations had witnessed between Jamie and Claire last night on their return to Section One. The image of his protective manner and the undisguised tenderness he’d shown towards her still remained vivid in her mind. It niggled at her subconscious.

Had their time away from Section brought them closer together? Or was it just the circumstances of what they had experienced been the catalyst for James Fraser’s behaviour towards his partner Claire Beauchamp? Her initial instinct was that they had grown closer together. But she was also faced with a conundrum. There were too many things that pointed to why a close relationship may have formed on this mission given what they had experienced. Analytically each reason was able to be dissected logically. Nevertheless, there was still a small seed of doubt that would grow if she didn’t evaluate their physical and mental capacities for rehabilitation thoroughly. With these thoughts in mind Madeline paged through to Medical. Even though several hours had passed since Jamie’s surgery and Claire’s admittance to Medical, she hadn’t been briefed on their status as yet. She rationalised that if his condition had deteriorated after the operation, she would have been the first to know. No news was good news; hence it was probable that no complications had arisen with the two patients over the night. She also needed to see if either Claire or Jamie was awake and lucid as Operations would want some Intel on the two operatives when she met up with him at lunch. Before any decisions could be made about the mission, they needed to know how both of them were doing in Medical and what was their prognosis for recovery. There was much for her to consider before her luncheon engagement with Operations. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Dr Jeremy Foster straightened the stethoscope round his neck before sitting down to begin his report for Madeline and Operations on the two operatives admitted to Medical last night. He had just finished making his observation rounds of his patients who had been under constant surveillance throughout the night in case of any unforeseen complications. So far so good … both of them had responded well to their pain medications and all their vital signs looked good. He was relieved that Jamie’s blood problem may not cause problems as he seemed to be showing some improvement, but he wasn’t out of the woods yet and complications could still occur. Claire was still sedated and when she awoke, they would reassess her injuries and treatment. Suddenly the intercom on his desk lit up. Knowing who the caller would be, he picked up the receiver to hear the voice he’d expected. “Dr Foster?” “Yes Madeline?” “Anything to report?” “Nothing significant as yet.” ”Is Claire up to being questioned?” “Not at the moment. The patient is asleep. She’s been given several doses of analgesia over the night and is still heavily sedated.” “And Jamie?” “His condition is stable but he is too groggy for visitors.” “When can I see them?” “I have to inform you Madeline that it is far too early. I suggest sometime later this afternoon at best. They should be okay for visitors by then but only for a few minutes.” “I see.” Adding more clarification for Madeline’s benefit, Dr Foster elaborated. “Claire is suffering from post-traumatic stress. This is quite common, particularly in operatives extracted from hostage situations where torture has been involved.” He paused, weighing up his next words carefully. "I'm sure you know that better than anyone else Madeline." “Yes … I understand Dr Foster.” Before she could question him further the doctor explained Jamie’s situation as well. “As far as James Fraser is concerned, I can assure you that he is being monitored around the clock by the medical staff.” “I would expect nothing less.” “Precisely. We will know more about his prognosis when we see how the blood transfusions have taken effect.” “Very well … I’ll check on Claire’s and Jamie’s progress later this afternoon then.” “If you have any further questions before then please contact me.” Madeline didn’t reply. She merely severed the connection. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ With much on his mind Murtagh eventually made it back to his post. He stood facing the entrance to Munitions knowing that a mountain of work waited for him in there. All the requisitioned equipment from the retrieval mission was ready to be catalogued and put back on its proper shelf and had his PDA listing of the inventory that had been drawn up for the Mission at the ready for him to cross reference all the pieces of equipment. All he needed to do was to get started but he hesitated. Instead he turned and stood behind the requisitions’ table and glanced over towards Systems once more. Fergus still wasn’t at his post. Murtagh glanced up towards the perch, Operations was still there but it looked as if he was getting ready to go somewhere as the perch suddenly went dark. Oh well Fergus wasn’t there; Operations was going somewhere and he had work to do before heading to Medical to check on Claire. “Pssst!” What was that? Murtagh thought he heard something. He turned around sharply. When he saw nothing, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him and thought nothing more of it until the sound repeated itself. “Pssst … Hey Murtagh!” A voice purred seductively. Murtagh’s mouth dropped open when he realised that he recognised the voice. He headed back towards his store room. However, before he did so, he quickly looked around to see if anyone was about, then hurriedly pulled up the door to his cage. He cast a final look around prior to closing the door and wandering into his back area. Murtagh nearly bumped into Bóinne who was standing in the shadows waiting for him. “Hey! What the hell are you doing here? You frightened six months growth out of me.” The nurse gave him a coy look. “Sorry Murtagh but I had to come … It seems like it took you forever,” she answered coming up closer to him. “I was only gone a short while,” he teased leaning into her space. They kissed. “Oh hon … it was way too long.” “Mmmmm ...” He growled suggestively scumming to her advances, “You look just as beautiful as ever.” Then reluctantly breaking away from the caress, Murtagh spoke against her lips. “But we can’t.” “Why not?” She replied pouting her lips and wrapping her arms around his neck. “What’s wrong?” This time it was he who was the reticent one. Last night Bóinne had been toey to the fact that someone would see them together. Now on Murtagh’s turf it was he who was having second thoughts. “Oh it’s … somebody could come by any moment.” However, Bóinne was provocative in her reply. “But I don’t see anyone else here,” she teased running her hands suggestively down his chest. Her eyes locked with his as sexual tension rose rapidly. “It’s been almost six hours.” “Yeah ...”

Thoughts of their liaison last evening came to his mind but realising this was not the most private of places Murtagh tried to cool things down. “… but it’s just too risky, that’s all … It’s bad enough we’re back here.” “I wanted to surprise you.” “You succeeded … but …” However, his paramour was having nothing to do with Murtagh’s excuses and seductively unzipped his jacket. “I just thought we could do something romantic. Just you and me.” Murtagh growled suggestively and the sound rumbled in his chest. He was frustrated in the time and place of her seduction. The woman was a minx and she was casting her spell over him all over again. “You know woman that you’re a witch … We can’t do this here.” She merely gave him a penetrating stare. Capitulating to the nursing sister’s charms, Murtagh started to kiss her again. However, when things began to escalate a little faster and further than he was willing to go, he came to his senses rather than letting his libido rule his head. Reluctantly breaking away again Murtagh loosened her arms from around his neck. He rested his bandanna head against her forehead and looked into her eyes.

“Maybe we could go and have dinner, huh? Huh? Tonight.” He purred provocatively not releasing his hold on her “Tonight?” “Yeah.” His lips brushed against her mouth. “Tonight is, um, not so good.” “You’re not on call, are you? I mean what’s the … what’s the problem?” “I’m sorry Murtagh ... I’m busy tonight. I’m rostered on for a double shift.” She kissed him again. Bóinne battered her eyelashes and coyly rubbed his bottom lip. “But I’ll see you tomorrow though ... won’t I?” He was a goner. “Sure … sure.” Murtagh’s eyes crinkled and they exchanged a knowing look. “It could be sooner than that.” Knowing that she was about to begin her shift, he had an idea. “Say … Do you think you could do a favour for me then?” Seductively, Bóinne ran her fingertip across his lip. “Anything for you babe ... just name it.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Severing her connection with Dr Foster, Madeline mused over the Intel that he had given her about their condition. Usually she went to Medical without alerting them to her visit but she was satisfied with what the doctor had told her. She would see for herself soon enough and it wasn’t as if the patients were being discharged any time soon. Jamie and Claire would be in Medical for a while before their rehabilitation could start. She had much to consider before seeing the two operatives later this afternoon. Turning around in her chair she studied her orchids in the glassed hot house for a short while. These delicate plants provided her with some tranquillity in her day. They helped clear her head from the many faceted things she was responsible for in Section One … none more important than the crisis that the injuries to James Fraser and Claire Beauchamp now posed for them. Checking the time Madeline realised that it was nearing the hour for her lunch meeting with Operations. They had some important decisions to make. He’d wanted some input as to how they should proceed with the mission … but at the back of his mind was the fate of Jamie and Claire in the success of bring the triad to heel. Like him, Madeline knew the two operatives were crucial in seeing it to its End Game. This was a complicated situation … but then when was anything concerning James Fraser and Claire Beauchamp not complicated? When the intercom speaker on her desk beeped quietly, she swirled her chair back towards her desk and reached for the handset. "Yes?" "Operations is wondering where you are. He is expecting you for lunch.” "Thank you. Tell him I'll be there shortly." ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Murtagh had catalogued and returned all the weapons on the mission inventory which had taken longer than he’d anticipated after his Canadian sweetheart’s visit. His mind had been preoccupied on other things … or more to the point … on someone in particular. Consequently, he was surprised when he realised that time had gotten away from him. He’d planned to make his way to Medical to see Claire when the inventory was completed but time had got away from him, due to his daydreaming. Now, because of his procrastination he’d unwittingly let enough time lapse until the staff change over before heading to check up on his Sugar. Fortunately, it may have worked in his favour. Although he didn’t know if his girlfriend Bóinne was rostered on to care for either Jamie or Claire nonetheless, she could access their files more easily than he could. Murtagh had asked her to check on them, then she would be able to tell him what was really happening with the two operatives. Surely Bóinne would have had enough time by now to check the medical records before her first shift began, he thought. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Making his way to Medical, Murtagh soon found the room where Claire was recovering in. Glancing into the room, he saw a Section Medic working at the other end of the room filling in her report after having obviously just finished taking observations of the patient. He quietly entered the room only to find Fergus already there standing beside her bed keeping vigil. He was taken aback in shock to see the very person he was worried about standing there. How had Fergus managed to get here before him and without letting him know? He had some serious explaining to do. Surprised to see his friend at Claire’s bedside, Murtagh hadn’t really noticed who the medic was at first, but caught his breath when he realised his lady love was the one on duty. Absorbed in her report she didn’t hear him enter either. He was momentarily gob smacked. Bóinne hadn’t said that she was looking after Claire … the minx! What a tease. She knew how worried he was about her but she hadn’t let on that Claire was her patient for this shift … He’d asked her for a favour too. Wait until they got together again … She too had some explaining to do. Murtagh approached the bed. He exchanged a concerned and enquiry look with Fergus before standing opposite him; he then looked at the patient. Dressed in the standard Med-Lab whites, Claire was asleep in a sitting up position in bed. In repose her hands were loosely linked in her lap. It was little wonder Fergus had a fearful expression on his face as she was hooked up to some monitors and equipment. Moving to stand next to Claire, the older man’s eyes glanced at his friend then back to his Sugar. He studied her. He watched the slight rise and fall of her chest, but to him she was still too pale. Claire was a shadow of her former self and in the clear light of day; it was evident that she had taken a hard beating. She had deep circles under her eyes and Murtagh watched her with concern. Although she was certainly breathing better, the rosy hue of her cheeks was missing. Even her dark lashes resting against the paleness of her cheeks were a stark reminder of what she had suffered. The bruises on Claire’s swollen face were testament to what she had endured at the hands of the triad; they had turned to a deeper shade of black and purple since last night. The cut near her lip also still looked very tender and swollen. But all that mattered was that his Sugar was alive and she would heal ... it would just take some time. Murtagh cast a look at Fergus before walking over to the Medic. He looked back towards the two then spoke quietly to her. “How is she doing Bóinne?” Surprised at the sound of Murtagh’s voice, she turned around to face him with a huge smile on her face knowing that he would want answers to her omission earlier. His eyes were serious and she knew he wanted to know how Claire was really faring. “Don't worry. She's doing very well.” “That’s great ...” Murtagh replied happily, then putting on the charm once more he asked, “Hmm ... if it’s okay, will you excuse us for a while, please?” Looking up at her man, she nodded without surprise at his request. He followed her as she walked over to replace Claire’s file at the end of her bed. “Don’t stay too long Murtagh ... she needs her rest.” He gave her a cheeky grin then a wink, “Sure thing ... no worries. We won’t.” Satisfied that Murtagh and Fergus wouldn’t over stay their time, Bóinne left the room pushing her observation trolley before her. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Running late, Madeline made her way to the Tower for her luncheon engagement with Operations. She walked down a long corridor until she came to the end of the hall. Stopping outside a locked door she put her hand on a security hand print reader. When the door slid open Madeline entered to find Dougal Mackenzie seated at the table pouring champagne into two glasses. He looked over towards her and held out a glass of the bubbly liquid when she approached the table. “Champagne?” “Thank you.” Madeline took a sip, placed the glass on the table then sat down. “Did you follow up on Jamie?” “I contacted Medical this morning, but I haven’t been there yet. He's still too groggy to been seen.” “And Claire?” “She is still under sedation too, but I’m to meet with Dr Foster in the Infirmary this afternoon. I’ll check on them both then.” “I see … then we have time to enjoy some lunch.” “Yes I think so.” A short while later Christopher appeared with their meals. He placed them on the table and discretely left. As they ate, their conversation centred on the mission and the after effects of having their two key operatives temporarily out of action. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Operations sat back in his chair at the dining table in a relaxed mood. He looked up at Madeline sitting across from him. “You’ve read all the reports?” “Yes.” “The retrieval mission was a close call.” “I agree. The team just made it in time,” Madeline replied.

“Murtagh and Geillis performed well though. They should be commended.” Nodding in agreement Operations leaned forward to pour some coffee into Madeline’s cup. “Perhaps we can use them again when Jamie and Claire recover,” she replied. “Fergus sent me his report on the mission audio tapes that he was analysing.” “He sent the report to me as well … I’ve reviewed those tapes too.” “So do you think we are we any closer to knowing where Sun Yee Lok is or how we can locate him?” “No, but I have to study it further.” “In the meantime, we may need to reassess and re-profile the mission.” ‘We need to make contingency plans first. Jamie and Claire will need to be fully recovered before they will be functional.” Operations’ relaxed mood was tempered again by his frustration with problems that kept popping up with this mission but more particularly with its two operatives. His ire was palatable. “And how long will that take? A week? A month?” We can’t wait forever. Section needs to reach its End Game. We can’t afford to take valuable resources and personnel from other areas for the Rising Dragons’ mission.” “I’m sure it won’t take that long Dougal. They have both returned to the field after major setbacks before. This should be no different.” “There is a lot at stake here Madeline. Regressing back to square one would not be acceptable.” “That won’t happen.” “We need to keep Colum onside … Centre too. He has powerful friends in Oversight. This could blow up in our faces, if it's not handled properly.” “Is there any reason this can't be handled properly?” “You tell me.” “We’ll tell your brother only what he needs to know, just like we have before.” “I’m still worried about Jamie. What shall we do about him? We can’t afford for him to go off on a vengeance mission because of what happened to Claire. You saw his reaction last night to her well being.” Madeline conveyed the inscrutable gaze Operations knew she bore when her mind was weighing up her thoughts. It appeared they were on the same wavelength. “Desire is always weakness. Their relationship may have to be explored more fully to find the extent of their bond.” “I will not tolerate collusion. If it affects their performance we have a problem.” “Any error in judgement will have to go in his file.” “Perhaps Jamie needs to be reminded of the importance of the End Game for the Rising Dragon’s mission?" “I quite agree.” Operations looked at Madeline his expression questioning. “What's the plan?” “When they’re strong enough, we'll test them thoroughly before sending them back into the field.” Operations absorbed Madeline’s words, knowing that Section’s head strategist was well on top of the situation. “Yes, you're right.” She looked at him and smiled the enigmatic smile Operations knew only too well. “I’m always right. I’ve studied Claire’s file. She can be controlled and through her so can Jamie.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Nevertheless, there was still a small seed of doubt in Madeline’s mind that she didn’t convey to Operations. Jamie and Claire would need to be watched closely if only to prove her right or wrong about their relationship. To do this a third person may be necessary. Yet, by bringing another person into play, she ... and the Section ... would be taking a huge risk. It could backfire and have sweeping ramifications. But with any risk, there was also the possibility of success. Madeline needed a course of action should her intuition prove true and this was as good as any. Last night’s display of concern could have been just a storm in a tea cup, but she needed to have all bases covered just in case.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued on Tuesday 31st March

#Jamieandclairefanfic #jamieandclaireau #jamieandclairecrossover #outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #covert operations #LFNoutlander #the lallybroch library

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yoekko-novels · 3 years

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To Touch The Sky - Weighing You Down - #005

Synopsis: A strange voice calls out to a weary Hubrid. The books he carried makes his body frigid and his robe weighs him down as he tracks through a barren wasteland covered in mud and dirt as he experiences something new for the first time.

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Sitting on the ground Hubrid feels hopeless. His stomach rumbles as he crosses his arms around his belly. This feeling of hunger was something he’d gotten used to long ago. However, this amount of loss was something he’d never known. Everyone and everything precious to him was gone.

He begins to nod off and hears a voice as the air becomes stiff.

“Hubrid!” A voice similar to Druchess’s shouts out to him.

“Huh?” Hubrid looks around, darting his eyes across the mass grave only to see the freshly dug holes he’d made.

“You should give up on going to Arupio!” It shouts out again.

“Who are you?” Hybrid retorts as he begins to hear masses of people talking.

“You’re being played for a fool Hubrid. Do not free that demon from her Bindings!” The voice begins to sound more distant.

“Druchess?” Hubrid shouts out as his voice echoes across the plains.

“You’ll doom this world! Turn back now to the cavern and live your life naturally!” The voice becomes deeper.

“I don’t know who you are, but I have to see them again!” Hubrid shouts out as he begins to try and run towards the voice.

“She is not the benevolent god you think her to be, Hubrid,” the voice says it nearly becomes inaudible.

“You’ll never see any of your family again. Deep down you know that so just give up on them and become your own person!”

Hubrid stops looking around and sits still on the grass.

“I’ll see you again too,” Hubrid says while looking at Druchess’s grave.

“The path you’re walking will kill many people Hubrid!”

“If the path I walk kills people, they should find their own paths and get out of my way.”

“Are you dense? Look at the graves you’ve dug. Do you want to dig a million more holes?” The voice retorts as it becomes gruff, nearly unrecognizable.

Hubrid sits in silence as his right hand glows brighter than it ever had before as he reaches into the sky. It illuminates the ground, breaking it free from the shadows of Arupio.

“What are you doing?” The voice shouts as it becomes nearly unrecognizable.

“When all seems lost, just look at the sun and smile,” Hubrid says as he stares at his hand glowing viciously as he raises it above his head. Hubrid closes his eyes and torts the sadness on his face into a smile. His face trembled as his facial muscles tried to keep it down but he continued to smile with gaiety with every ounce of will to his name.

“You will come to know true loss as you carry on with your goals Hubrid,” the voice says as the air once again resumes.

Hubrid awakens to see the graves he’d dug once again as he begins to leave. The robe he wears begins to feel heavy, he takes it off and as he does so he begins to gasp for air. The robe falls to the ground and he puts it back on in a hurry.

He catches his breath as his hands turn pale and his body cold. He lets out a breath of air and a red mist leaves his mouth.

Hybrid begins to walk back from where’d he come as the air becomes more chilly. He decided to listen to Druchess and educate himself so he could walk upon the clouds of Arupio. He read books along the way back to the cove as his emotions dwindled with each page he flipped.

He read of massacres, wars, famine, and death. He felt nothing, it was something that he’d been through before. His fingertips became frosty as he continued flipping the pages of “Erased History,” the book told stories of heroes and villains. Hubrid could no longer tell who was who though.

In one of the books, there were old stories about the early days of the world, there were tales of two kingdoms fighting. The Kingdom on the ground and the Kingdom in the heavens.

The strong users had once been their own kingdom, they reigned over all of the ground and oceans. The Strong Users prohibited the people of the clouds from coming to the ground. The people of the clouds began to starve and plotted a way to usurp the kingdom of the ground.

They thought they were siphoning the powers of Aaura by sacrificing their weak and feeding them to the strong. The stronger Magic-Users ate the aura of the weaker by stealing it from their bodies. They would stab their prey through the heart with a special straw that could suck the essence out of their bodies.

Eventually, the Strong holders could no longer face the Magic Users as their power continued to grow and their numbers dwindled. The army that’d once been large enough to settle across all the lands of the planet turned into a small number of 10,000. 10,000 soldiers wiped out the millions of people on the ground without being able to fight back. They went past the sea to the farthest edges of the earth making sure none could escape.

The last of the Strong-Holders were royalty. They’d been spared so that they could be herded up and tossed into a pin, forced to imbreed with one another and work for the rest of their lives along with their children.

Hubrid slowly began to realize who, and what he was. His people had started the fight with their selfishness, unable for his emotions to take hold, he continued to read the stories.

There was a single Strong User who was not affected by the Magic-Users but he could not fight their numbers alone. So he hid away with his family in a cave. The cave could not be sensed or detected by Magic-Users. He hid away living off of the land as he watched his people suffer from afar. He often dreamed of saving them from their torture, but he knew it wouldn’t be possible as he was.

Hubrid’s fingers become even more frigid and worn as they begin to shrivel up when he turns the next page.

On the next page were events and years along with hand-drawn photos, however, Hubrid still hadn’t known what year he was in, but he read anyways.

110 - The beginning of the war against Strong and Magic. Because of the greed of the ground, the people of the sky were forced to use questionable magic in order to gain control of the ground to feed our people. The picture shows malnourished children and adults, sitting on the ground waiting for their lives to end.

112 - Our numbers dwindled because of the sacrifices made in exchange for power. Our entire nation had dwindled down to 10,000 people, all soldiers willing to fight and die for Arupio. A picture of a legion of soldiers is shown. They all wore white robes and looked healthy, they nearly looked like they were the opposites of the people in the last picture.

113 - We Arupians won the war, the only thing to do now was to clean up the mess. A picture of dead bodies littering the ground is shown. Close-ups of their faces are shown, it looked as if they were begging for mercy as their photos were being taken.

114 - We scoured the continents in search of strong holders that’d fled. We found small tribes, unaware of the war that had taken place, living in peace. A picture is shown of Strong holders in strange garments staring at the drawer.

The years 115-190 are unreadable to Hubrid. The language was different from what Druchess had taught him, even his large vocabulary from the page of the book Druchess burnt was of no use. On top of that, it was scribbled over in a spot of black gooey ink that dribbled down the pages making it nearly useless.

Hubrid flips the pages looking for more information until his hands are too cold to move. With his hands shivering he puts his book away and continues walking on the purple grass as the sun did nothing to give warmth to him. His body wavered as he trembled with each step he took.

The wind blew voraciously but Hubrid could not feel it, the robe grew heavier, Hubrid could not feel it. Eventually, Hubrid found the cave that he and Druchess had come from and walked through the exit that Druchess had made earlier, pebbles crunched against the ground as he walked through the cavern. The wall closed itself seamlessly and Hubrid found the room he’d lived in for the past couple of months.

Hubrid sits on his bed attached to the stone wall and it crashes to the ground from the weight of the robe. He felt every sin of its past wearers, it was heavier than any hay bale or boulder he lifted on the farm. He began to lay on top of the broken stone bed as he began to rest so he could prepare himself for the next day.

The cave had usually felt damp and humid, today it was lifeless and chilly, not even the bugs that usually danced around Hubrid would appear. The grey and black rubbled that the ground was made of stared at Hubrid as he fell asleep wearily and began to dream.

“You believe the silly stories of that book?” An unknown voice speaks.

“What else can I believe in?” Hubrid responds to it with nonchalance.

“... Do you want something to believe in?” The monotone voice asks curiously.

“Like what?” Hubrid retorts.

“Revenge.” The voice states as it deepens even further than it’d previously been, nearly startling Hubrid.

“Druchess told me revenge was a bad thing, he said it would only create a perpetual war or something like that,” Hubrid says to the voice as it begins to cackle and cough.

“And… Where is that old man now?” It says as its cackle turns into full-fledged laughter.

“He’s Dead,” Hubrid says as he awakens from his slumber with a jolt and feels his body quivering. His body still frigid and his emotions halted, his dirty body spread a filthy odor throughout the cave. Despite the pain, he’d had in his bruised hands and the dirt full of bacteria filling his wounds along with small amounts of poison magic, his robe and body felt lighter than they ever had before.

#Writing #Author #Fantasy #Novel #Comedy #Depressing #Dark #Funny

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minnesotadruids · 4 years

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Missed Question About My Path

For a while this summer I had largely stepped away from social media, and when I began to immerse myself back into the scene this week I saw that I missed a message question a while back that read:

How much growth have you seen in your path in the past 40 years you have been in it?

Personal Growth The first thing I want to address is that I am currently just 36 years old, and that I have been practicing druidry for almost half of that time. In the first seven years of my practice as a druid, I was solo by choice, not caring to join any particular druid order, so I was detached from the community and wasn’t in a position to see it grow. My personal growth in knowledge as a druid was also relatively slow back then as well.

When I felt a longing to become part of a greater druidic community, I gravitated to the Reformed Druids of North America, and when I did I suddenly found myself learning new things exponentially. I was among a group of relatively like-minded individuals, but all had different insights and perspectives to contribute to whatever I was learning.

A couple years later, the Council of Dalon Ap Landu met to discuss my achievements and contributions and determined that I was ready to enter the priesthood of the Reformed Druids of North America, and I was ordained as a Third Order Druid. Two years after that I was ordained as a Sixth Order Druid, and after another two years I entered the Seventh Order as well which really made a splash and sent ripples throughout the RDNA community. Literally.

RDNA Community Growth The simplest way I can analyze the growth of the Reformed Druid community is by the number of people in the RDNA Facebook group from about 2011 to present. From memory around 2011 there were between 110-125 members of said group, and the growth rate was a small handful of people per month. Then in 2013, I think Facebook created a You Might Be Interested In This Group algorithm, and the monthly growth rate was suddenly increasing with as many people joining every week or faster. Before I new it, the group had 600 members and growing.

In the last two or three years, membership of the Facebook group plateaued at about 950 and started crawling again, until it got to the 993 and started declining. I was watching it closely, as I am one of the moderators and I was going to congratulate the 1000th member. A new person would join the group, and two would leave. It wasn’t on the rise until it dipped below 950 or so. Last year we finally hit 1000 members, and today we’re sitting at 1081. However it is regrettable to note that as a group we don’t interact nearly as much as we used to. Peak interaction was really we had 200-300 members, and now there are maybe 3 people who post anything with regularity, some only sporadically, and a whole lot of silence from the rest. I think there are people who just join every single druid group they find and have notifications turned off so they aren’t inundated with updates.

Oakdale Grove Growth When I founded Oakdale Protogrove in 2011, it was just me. I was alone in the woods, holding a book of liturgy, a chalice of whiskey, and a plant-based sacrifice. This was all while trying not to drop any of them, and quickly understanding why a proper Grove has at least three members. I met regularly with other pagans and druids at Coffee Cauldron, a biweekly meeting inside a Caribou Coffee chain north of Saint Paul.

On Beltane of 2013 I was ordained at the 50th anniversary reunion of the Reformed Druids of North America, and suddenly had two druids interested in helping Oakdale Protogrove become Oakdale Grove. I met three more druids at Twin Cities Pagan Pride fall festival that year, and on the Autumnal Equinox, the six of us voted on a charter, held elections, and suddenly we were a full RDNA Grove! After two years, membership contracted to just four of us, then increased gradually to 13 members or semi-regular ritual attendees in 2018. Then a conflicting personality was present and membership contracted again. That personality was the recently aforementioned disruptive individual who was disenfranchising some of our grovemates. That ultimately ended in the termination of that individual’s Grove membership.

Now up until the COVID-19 hiatus, Oakdale Grove has 8 members and was still getting visitors, even on our wintry outdoor rituals, which I think is really quite nice! Now that autumn is in full swing, I’m actually considering holding a public outdoor event with proper social distancing, but not sharing whiskey from a common chalice (strictly BYOB).

Reformed Druid Movement Growth Over Last 40 Years The RDNA prides itself in keeping track of its own history as a druid movement. We have thousands of pages of records, from the 848 pages of A Reformed Druid Anthology to the early periodical publication A Druid Missal-Any, to the (recent history) periodical newsletter Druid Inquirer. Forty years ago the RDNA was in a quiet slump. Carleton College Grove was in a membership lull. The Arch-Druid of the class of 1980 is labeled in our record as “last priest” followed by a two year gap before the next one shows up, being ordained by one of the founders who returned for a visit to the campus.

The New Reformed Druids of North America (NRDNA) had been running as an offshoot for about seven years as of 1980. Margot Adler had just published Drawing Down The Moon a year prior, and that book mentions the history of the RDNA. That book was a catalyst for pagan druids to pop out of the woodwork and join the NRDNA Groves and Protogroves. In the early 1990s Carleton Grove picked up and maintained the Arch-Druid’s ordination lineage back to the founders again, and that lineage was maintained until 2012 when the Arch-Druid graduated without ordaining anyone. In the mid 1990s, the internet emerged as we know it and druids everywhere flocked to it. Information spread across the country and across the world in seconds (or minutes on a 14.4 kbps connection) and new protogroves started popping up everywhere.

Then roughly in the last decade, Groves were dwindling and going defunct, but that perceived lull was still being contradicted by the increased membership of social media groups. Now with the current government administration, I was hoping to see more people flocking to druidry in droves to help fight the damage the Right Wing would do to the environment, but for the most part the druids and pagans would rather just share memes, and I think part of that problem is that we’re all just burnt out or something. I’d love to see it grow, but in the RDNA we can’t proselytize or actively recruit. We have to let the curious discover us on their own.

#druidry #reformed #druids #pagan #paganism #druidblr #about druidry

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acelikesturtles · 4 years

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“What’re You In For?”

Prompt: #22 (Two Miserable People at the same Wedding) - Raphael x Olivia

Warnings: Light Alcohol Mention, Cursing (duh, its Raphael)

Word Count: 1,568

A/N: This is from an ask game that I reblogged a couple days ago. It took me a while to finish editing it because I really and truly prefer quality of my work over quantity, plus I needed to find the right soundtrack for this so I could focus 110%. I hope you like it @headhalfling!

As much as Raphael cherished April as a friend and Casey as his “fourth brother”, he had despised almost every last moment of the last 8 hours. The tie around his neck was too tight and the suit that April requested be tailored to his exact measurements still felt like it was smothering him. When he had finished the first suit fitting at the lair he had figured that all it would take to break free from this prim and proper prison was a well-timed stretch. That is, until Leo had very gently patted him on the shoulder and reminded him that they were putting all these fancy trimmings on for April and Casey, and that after the "incident" at their engagement party, Raph would likely do better blending in.

Oh yeah, that.

As if the clothing and the standard wedding formalities weren't enough to bother Raph, he had promised April he would only have one glass of champagne after the last time. Out of respect (and maybe a fair deal of embarrassment) following the unforeseen events of the engagement party, he decided that it might be best to stay alert, especially since being a ninja and all doesn't really pay in hard cash. Or at least...not enough cash that could cover the fees associated with a professional carpet cleaner.

One finger lazily circled around the brim of his empty champagne glass. Amongst all the chatter in the room his eyes remained fixed on Casey and April. He couldn't tell if he was trying to read their lips and decipher whatever lovey-dovey conversation they were having or perhaps just trying to understand the ins and outs of the event in general. He couldn't really say that he'd ever felt in love, and maybe he was just being incredibly cynical, but this felt like a strange way to celebrate it; stuffy outfits and distant cousins you've only seen twice in your life didn't seem like a celebration of love or a union of two families but like a strange ritual that he couldn't quite wrap his mind around.

Just as his brain was finally translating something admittedly pretty juicy happening between the happy couple, someone shuffled past him and took a seat beside him, drawing his attention reluctantly away. She didn't seem to be paying him much attention, instead tapping away at her phone rather furiously with one hand while brushing stray strands of blue hair away from her eyes. A deep sigh escaped her lips as she set her phone face down on the table and grabbed the entirely unclaimed glass of champagne sitting in front of her place mat, then tapped her fingers rhythmically on the sides.

"What're you in for?" She said playfully then took a small sip from the glass.

He laughed, then leaned back in his chair. "Does 'best man' count?"

"Hey, sure, I'm not the police. Besides, I knew that already." Once again pushing her hair from her eyes, she crinkled her nose when she smiled. "You guys were, er, I guess--you are--kind of distinct. Kinda cool if you ask me."

She set the champagne glass back down, before gazing up at her new conversation partner. Her striking hazel eyes connected with his own and caused him pause for a moment. Again, full of surprises, she didn't seem to react in fear or shock so much as intrigue at his physical appearance. He couldn't say that this wasn't a first, all night long at both the engagement party and this reception he and his brothers had been getting unwarranted looks that definitely indicated the unspoken feelings of the person staring. This, however, was different. As for how, he wasn't quite sure, but for now he simply felt unusually awkward and unable to figure out what he was supposed to say next. Mikey was always the better one at socializing. It was in his blood. Raph on the other hand, despite all the time he had to learn, was about as good at talking to humans as a fish was at flying.

He glanced down at the name tag that had been so carefully placed in front of where she sat before taking a shot in the dark that maybe she was the table-mate that hadn't showed up yet. Awfully late for her to arrive now...but not impossible.

"Umm...are you Lorraine Bri-...Brinch-...you know what, fuck, not even trying to pronounce that."

"What?" She followed where his eyes led to the cutesy black and gold calligraphy neatly engraved on a piece of folded card stock. She frowned and shook her head. "No, that's not me. My name's Olivia. Does make me wonder who that is though, and why they didn't show up. Kind of disrespectful, to not even RSVP honestly."

"Well what about you?" Raph countered. As if he even cared about this random other woman's dignity when he didn't even know who she was beyond her impossible to pronounce last name. "I didn't see you until just now."

"I’ve been here,” she responded. She broke eye contact with Raph and began picking at the skin surrounding her fingernails. She had noticeably callused fingers which matched the overall aesthetic of her chipped and unpainted fingernails. “I just don’t really want to be here. I don't typically like stuffy events like this, as much as I'm really glad to see Casey and April together. These things make me anxious, and I would drive home, but that wouldn’t be cool because I’m the photographer’s ride." She gestured vaguely towards the woman in a pantsuit with long black hair that had been tirelessly capturing every last angle possible of the bride, groom, and bridal party.

"Hey, uh...me too." He answered. He was starting to feel anxious too seeing the way that she picked at her fingernails. “These events, they aren’t really for me. This tie ain’t doing it for me either, its kinda been choking me,” He gave her a small smile, hoping that it might ease her mind to have someone sympathize with her, even if it wasn’t entirely on the same page. Again, Mikey would’ve been better at this kind of thing than he was, but it helped that the connection between them was already sort of going well. Well, aside from him accusing her of being late to the wedding, that is.

Olivia’s eyes narrowed on his black and white striped tie. She pressed her lips together, holding back a smile while a short breathy laugh escaped her nostrils. “Well, there’s your problem. You tied it too tight, dummy. Here-”

Her callused hands reached up and began loosening the fabric fastened around his neck. Earlier when he had tied it himself he hadn’t bothered to ask for help, assuming that this was just how ties were supposed to feel, but the gradual feeling of relief that came with the freedom to move his neck like normal was ethereal. While she couldn’t fix the constricting fit of his suit, having the tie a little looser was already helping him feel more relaxed and adjusted. Their eyes locked again as she gently pulled her hands away from the satin, although this time something felt different. Like he was sweating. Everywhere.

With the relief of one discomfort came the creation of another. He cleared his throat.

“Thanks.”

“Hey, anytime, I learned how to tie those for a friend of mine a couple years ago. You should’ve asked for help from somebody sooner.”

Now he was beginning to feel really embarrassed. Did she think he was stupid? Or incapable of learning how to do normal human stuff like tying a goddamn tie? “Nah, they’re busy, didn’t wanna bother ‘em.” Now that made him at least seem noble.

“Well you weren’t bothering me.” She smiled and raised an eyebrow. “I doubt you would’ve bothered your brothers by asking for help, their ties don’t seem to be bothering them.

Fuck.

Still feeling sweaty, Raph shrugged and chuckled. “Awright, fine, then I’ll call you next time I gotta wear this damn thing, yeah?”

Once the words had escaped his mouth he realized how silly they must’ve sounded, but he didn’t take them back. He wasn’t an entirely socially inept fool, that was Donnie’s job. She paused for a moment at his words and began searching his eyes for an answer that he didn’t know he had in him. This was uncomfortable and sweaty and hot...but he kind of liked it. Raph swallowed and broke eye contact with her unceremoniously then twisted the watch on his left wrist back into center position.

“Maybe I will.”

Olivia reached into her silver crossbody that until now, had been closely kept by her side entirely untouched. She uncapped a black ballpoint ink pen and scribbled a string of numbers onto a blue sticky note that had already been lightly doodled on (likely during the ceremony) with rough sketches of motorcycles juxtaposed against delicate daisies and baby’s breath she had likely seen in April’s bouquet. She tore the sticky note off and nervously stuck it onto his placemat. With a quick swig of the rest of the champagne left in the glass she had claimed, she stood up from her chair and gave him one last smile before hurriedly heading off in the direction of her photographer friend, leaving Raph with more questions than he did answers.

Maybe this whole lovey-dovey shit wasn’t so dumb after all.

#prompt #although it was technically from an ask game but hey #tmnt #acelikesturtles #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #bayverse tmnt #authoring by ace

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i-can-get-extra-with-my-ships · 5 years

Text

A Slice Of My Love. Chapter 6. Wait, You Don't Think I'm Insane?

Sup children!! (No clementine my brother did not hack onto my Tumblr and write me a whole fucken chapter.) We be existing on the bean bag again.

The farthest you will most likely see me venture is to my bed. Or a hotel. It depends how long this book goes for. I mean, we’re almost at 10 chapters. I said like 20-30 most likely. Holy shit. I’m almost ½ to ⅓ done with this book. Moving on before I go on more of a tangent than I already have!!

Pairings: Mentions of the glasses gays (it's toned down for this chapter and in chapter 7 it will be turned up to 11), Prinxiety but it’s best friend mode™ that has been preset to 11

Tw: Cursing, Fourth wall breaks (they be back, but not as bad this time), Virgil being insane, Virgil and Roman being both shippers and BFFs, the lack of sleep finally catching up to Virge, Vee thinking he has just proved a major point.

Virgil’s POV

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Assuming that you’ve read this whole book, you already know that Pat has been overtaken by the powers of the boop™ and has gone upstairs with Logan. Logan never came back downstairs.

Roman was thinking about something. Well, I knew what that something was. You only have to be best friends with Princy for a year and a half to know what he wants to ask you.

“You wanna ask me about Alonso, don’t you?” Roman looked up at me. Then he went back to thinking.

“You know that as long as you don’t accuse me of being insane, you can ask me whatever the fuck you want.”

He looked at me again and then sat down at the table with a bowl of cereal. “Taking advantage of the fact that dad’s upstairs huh?”

The fuck? Dude, we’ve been best fucking friends for over a year now!! If you’re trying to ask me something just ask me!!

“No shit Sherlock.”

He gasped in fake surprise. “How DARE you!! I hate to inform you, but I am the prince, hence I am royalty. You do not speak to royalty in such a crude manner!!”

So the Roman stans are taking mild offense right now. I’m gonna tell you this once and once only. THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN BEST FRIEND MODE™ HAS BEEN TURNED UP TO ITS PRESET NUMBER OF 11!!

Anyways, Roman stans aside, I laughed hysterically at Roman’s mocked offense. He does a really good impression of what I’d like to imagine offended Roman stans to sound like.

Ok, we’re gonna chuck the Roman stans out a window so I can actually move on from them. I decided that I was going to help Princey away from the conversation that He was trying to move away from. (I was really tempted to say spared.) The extra bitch hasn’t left yet, has it Em? (We are NOT doing this now.) Fine.

“Seeing as you’re trying to change the subject, Pat and Lo earlier.”

His face lit up at the mention of the glasses gays, as we’ve dubbed them.

“Looks like someone needs to get more sleep.” Ro did a crappy impersonation of Lo. I laughed some more.

“And don’t forget the boop™”

Roman started snickering “How did I forget the boop™? Uhh… Well, I only have 2 weaknesses: self-deprecation and affection.”

Roman was crappily imitating Pat now. I knew where Roman was going. I jumped up from my chair and ran over. Then I slowly walked by him and booped his nose.

Roman snickers turned into a bit of giggling, then he continued with our inside joke. “Never mind. I have 3 weaknesses: self-deprecation, affection and whatever Logan just did.”

I laughed even more at Roman’s shitty impression job. “Ok, you’re purposely sucking. I have accepted this challenge of sucking at doing impersonations for this joke.” I cleared my throat for the shittiest Logan Sanders impression in the history of the universe. I heard Roman mumble “Oh god” underneath his breath.

Good. You better be bracing yourself for this shitshow Princey.

“Patton, I believe that Roman and Virgil would call that a” I searched through imaginary vocab cards “boop™.”

We looked at each other and then laughed hysterically. I somehow ended up falling over in our laughter. We stopped for a moment and looked at each other again. Then laughed again, only harder this time.

Through my laughter, I managed “Stop laughing and help me you, stupid bitch!!”

He looked at me in disbelief. “You’re sitting there, on the floor, laughing, but I can’t laugh with you?” He lectured me while still giggling.

“I’m laughing at my own stupidity. Only I can laugh at myself.”

“Whatever. I thought I was supposed to be the dramatic one!”

The laughter had died down quite quickly after that. Roman helped me up off the floor. We walked to the couch and sat down.

Well… more he sat down, I lay down, and he was my footrest. It’s an us thing.

“Do you always have to put your feet on me, Virge?”

I scoffed and looked at him in disbelief. “Do I have anywhere else to put my feet? No. Do I want you to sit on my feet? No. Do I want to sit up? No. Do I want to move to the other couch? No. Are you my prisoner now? Yes.”

He laughed a little more. I could tell that he was thinking that I stole his job of being the dramatic one.

We sat there in comfortable silence. The only thing keeping it from being awkward was the light and playful atmosphere. I have no clue about you guys, but with a best friend that you’re almost always loud with, silence is just weird and awkward. (This is a thing with me and my best friend. Normally we just randomly quote Charlie the Unicorn at that point.)

I decided that I needed to bring up the inevitable.

“You gonna ask me about Alonso any time today? I already told you. You can ask me. I trust you.”

He thought for a moment. “Umm…. Well…. What does he look like?”

I snickered a little bit. “Wow. You’re THAT scared that you’re going to offend me?”

He didn’t share my laughter.

“Oh, umm…. Kinda like Remy, but without the stupid sign that says sleep. But like Remy mixed with someone else. I can’t put my finger on who though.” Roman hummed in response. Then he got a mischievous grin on his face.

OH SHIT!! ROMAN DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE.

He dared though.

“So is he hot?”

I looked at him with my most serious “Bitch what the fuck?” face and asked him a simple question: “Roman, you’re my best friend and I love you (platonically), but why are you like this?”

He looked back at me with a “Bitch what the fuck?” face as well. “Because I’m the literal embodiment of Thomas’ romance. And as your best friend, I want you to find love.”

“That wasn’t cheesy at all Ramen.” I snickered a little bit at the Ramen part. Roman absolutely HATES the nickname Ramen. But he’s still Ramen.

“Don’t think Ramen’s going to get a reaction out of me. It’s not. I’m totally fine with that nickname now.”

My mind went to Someone Gets Hurt Reprise from Mean Girls as soon as Ro Ramen said fine. “REALLY FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE!! GO BE FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEN!!!”

Roman picked up on the reference and finished the song. “And I want my pink shirt.”

I joined him for the extra part that we add every time we sing/listen to that song.

“HE BROUGHT UP THE PINK SHIRT!! AND YOU KNOW THAT SHIT HAS HIT THE FAN ONCE YOU BRING UP THE PINK SHIRT!!!” We laughed hysterically once more.

Once our laughter had died down again, Roman got serious again. Ish.

“Are you gonna tell me if Alonso is cute or not?”

I couldn’t escape this conversation now. “I don’t know. I guess? You know that this isn’t really my department. It’s like 110% yours.”

He snickered a little bit. “So like, when did you notice him?”

I told him the story. “So Pat was lecturing me about how I should be sleeping and all that bs. I wasn’t really listening because of the hypocrite card. I was staring at the counter and he was just sort of chilling there. Existing.”

I looked at Ro to see his “Vee you’re insane” face but it never came, so I continued.

“Then after Pat went upstairs to get Logan. Alonso, at this point in time I didn’t know his name so I was just referring to him as ‘the counter guy’ in my head, started talking to me by quoting Heathers. I was quoting the scene that he started when Pat and Lo came downstairs. They told me that I was being crazy and that there was only a piece of bread. That’s why I thought that you’d think I’m crazy too.”

Roman looked at me. No discernible emotion could be seen on his face. It was kinda scary. He just told me “I don’t think you’re crazy.”

It took me a moment to comprehend that. “You don’t?”

“At least I think that.”

I didn’t fully think out what I was about to do before I did it. That’s very unusual for me. Might I remind you that I was running on two cups short of a full pot of coffee (Pat and Lo drank them) and like 2 hours of sleep?

I lept off the couch, grabbed Roman’s hand and dragged him up the stairs. Once I got to Pat’s room I kicked the door down. We were greeted with the sight of the glasses gays cuddling on Patton’s bed watching a movie.

After I kicked the door down they looked up at me in shock. Still cuddling though, so that’s a bonus.

Pat spoke first. “Virgil, please tell me why you just kicked down my door.”

I could hardly contain my excitement. I moved to the side a little bit and pulled Roman forward. “RoMaN sAyS i’M nOt CrAzY!!!”

Logan looked at Roman “Roman, please explain.”

Roman looked down at his feet. “Well, do I have a story for you guys.”

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This chapter is the longest by far. The actual chapter part went over 3 pages. That’s a first.

Anywho. I really liked this chapter. It was quite fun to write. However, the next one will be even more fun to write. The glasses gays turned up to 11. God am I gonna have a ball with the next one.

Chapter 7 will most likely be next week. We’re going to Chicago and it’s a 3-hour drive there and back. I write on my laptop which will be left at home, and I don’t have a phone to write on soooo….. I get to listen to Heathers and Mean Girls mass amounts of times though.

The existing internet writing human,

�� Em

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Taglist (if you’d like to be added/removed please inform me): @winterswishing-reblogs @thetomorrowshow @just-some-gt-trash @iixclementine

#Soooo....#How was it?#Like I said #I really like this chapter #The platonic Prinxietea #I love it.#But I feel the strong need for romantic Prinxiety.#I might write a one shot #Who knows #Y'all know the drill.#It's a cursed phrase.#logicality #the glasses gays #platonic prinxiety #platonic prinxietea #A Slice Of My Love #Em's crappy attempts at writing

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