#ive been itching to talk about the sequel | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

maryannecrimsworth · 1 year

Note

Version 1 of the sequel of Only Silence(without you), honestly super duper excited, THE SONG FOR THIS IS "Billie Eilish - Happier than Ever". Ive already talked about it in the reblog of OSWY but ill be putting it in summarized form instead of ramble form.

Wednesday x Singer!Reader

After that last concert in Jericho, you and your crew left without any problems and you started your preparation to move on from Wednesday with putting away that Crystal ball that the Addams Family gifted to you to be in contact with Wednesday, you touch the Crystal ball and reminisce all those talks between you two, you let out a breath that you didnt know you were holding and decided on contacting them to inform them of the break up between you two, anxiety and paranoia would strike you. You think that they will not take it well, you think they will hunt you for breaking up with Wednesday. You take a deep breath and took that leap of faith and called them and informed them of your situation (you decide their reaction, would they be understanding or will they cut you off from their lives), and you also inform them of you putting away the crystal ball and that if they need you, just give you a letter or text.

The fact that the concert was the last one of your tour, you were afraid that with nothing much to do, your head might get filled with thoughts of her, but surprisingly you were a lil inspired so you write and write, compose and compose until you are satisfied. You gave yourself a pat on the back, you have outdone yourself as you knew your song is gonna go big but your grin becomes a melancholic smile. You look up at the ceiling and clench ur fists while letting out a stuttering breath and you lay down and sleep for the night hoping that the night will wash your feelings away.

The next morning you ask your manager if you could do a live stream Q&A cuz you always liked to do fan interactions. After a few days of pleading, Your manager gave in and you gave a cheer also telling them ur inviting a famous friend. Past forward a week later, everything was prepared and all set up, you and ur friend are side by side answering questions about ur tour and life etc etc. By the end of the stream, you sneakily said that you have a song cooked up and grabbed ur instrument and started singing the song.

(NOW ITS UP TO YOU AUTHOR FOR THIS TO END CUZ LEGIT ive run out of things to type for this and do please have fun -love, Tundra)

After listening very carefully to all the songs you suggested, I chose one --- and this version practically wrote itself. I hope you like this pure sadness

Sequel(1) of Only Silence(Without You) / Sequel (2)

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Singer! Gn! Reader

Warning: Memories; heart-break; moving on; sad end; reader pranks the local church(no offense directed at any religion, it's just the reader's background)

Author's note: This is the Version 1(aka angsty end). There will be an Version 2(aka hurt and comfort) soon

I am alone(In The Stars)

Reason.

That was what Wednesday kept looking for: reason.

For what reason did she remain quiet? For what reason did she ignore your letters, your calls? For what reason did she choose Tyler, for what reason did she kiss him, knowing his lips would never taste like yours? Why did she ruin you, you two — her everything.

The person who never cheated, lied, or used her — you were always there for her, no matter what; bad or good, criminal or legal, and now you weren’t.

You were not by her side, and you would never be again. You were her partner, a part of her life — a part of her, and now you are missing.

Now you are gone, far away and her day feels empty. She sits on the last seat of the empty church, and her body shivers as her mind remembers you. She itches, scratches, trembles like she’s sick, like something has been violently ripped from her — like a phantom limb lingering, hurting, aching, screaming and bawling in despair, even though it is not really there. And this is what hurts: its absence, your absence. You are missing. She misses you.

And the church's quiet inside just made her notice how empty she felt without you.

Sunday mornings were your favorite

I used to meet you down on Woods Creek Road

It was almost comical how you behaved. Every single week, every single Sunday, you would sneak into the church — under the priest’s nose, to your aunt’s disgrain — and watch the saints and symbols as if they were real deities. As if your father could be among them, singing with the choir, listening to the sermon, watching and praying like you were. Then someone would yawn, a teen would scoff, an old man would curse and you were shattered. The deities disappeared, being placed with pale, old statues, as you stood up and laughed. You laughed loudly, scornfully, wickedly and the whole church would look at you. The priest would grasp your arm as you shoot questions at him, your aunt would slap you in the face and take you out of the temple. It was your theater, your show, your little spectacle to make all the believers shiver and tremble in their feet. To make them regret rejecting you and your father — to make them remember what you have done on your first day in the city. On the day you first met her.

Your posture was as straight and confident as always: you were not older than 10, but you lifted your chin and watched the people in the funeral as if they were plebs, farseers, as if they were worms. Worms crawling up to your father’s corpse, on display in the middle of the pulpit — you despised them, you despised their hypocrisy, you despised how they pretended to care after kicking your father out of town. After expelling a man in need, a man with a newborn — you — and acting as if they were right, as if they had the right to do it.

No deity would allow this, no deity would accept believers this dissembling — no deity would allow its followers to sin like this in complete silence.

So you broke the silence — you interrupted your aunt's speech of empty, lying words — you made the statues sing and sob while the believers turned pale. The symbols and faces you always look at sang in a motionless choir — the Saints spoke and rebuked their bad testimonies, Virgin Mary and Baby Jesus scolded all the relatives you have never talked to. Your family trembled and cried, begging the heavens to stop, begging for forgiveness, promising they would be better — the priest was in despair, and screams took over the church until your laughter arose. Sitting next to Wednesday, hidden by her side, watching the chaos with her, you were witnessing your own show from outside, feeling pleasure for the despair of your family.

And before she could notice, Wednesday was laughing too. Your aunt got you before you could talk to her — but you saw her. You heard her low laugh and turned your head in an abrupt motion, and you saw her. You smiled at her while you were being dragged out of the church.

You did your hair up like you were famous

Even though it's only church where we were goin'

That was where she met you. That was where she always met you — at church, on the Sunday morning, and she would watch your show, your display of anger and revolt, and she would smirk back at you as you were being kicked out of the temple once again. In the beginning, you were testing her — you wanted to know if she was truly enjoying your spectacle. She was — and that’s why you kept doing it.

At church, then at her house; after a few months meeting at the temple, changing nothing but a few glances, you followed her home — to the haunted mansion of the city — and waited for the dusk. When the silence came and the fog arose among the gravestones of the Addams' yard, you started to sing. Your voice sounded like thunder at first, shaking the whole building with a supernatural power.

“Hello darkness, my old friend!” The singing resounded inside her room, and Wednesday jumped from her seat immediately — her eyes wandered fastly around the place, looking for the source of the song. “I've come to talk with you again.”

She opened her window and saw you standing in the middle of the garden.

You were smiling at her.

You will never sing to her again.

Now, Sunday mornings, I just sleep in

It's like I buried my faith with you

She was the only one in the church now. The funeral was over — the dead had already been buried, the priest had already spoken, the widow had already cried. The sky and nature were mourning — the whole city was quiet, grieving, reminiscing. Ever since you left, silence has taken over everything. Wednesday used to enjoy it, but now it tortured her — now, while the outside was quiet and still, her mind was disrupted by you; by your singings, by your voice, by your serenades and by your letters. By every single part of you she had lost.

I'm screamin' at a God, I don't know if I believe in

'Cause I don't know what else I can do

‘Ma noirceur’. It was how you signed all your letters: to Ma noirceur. My darkness; that was how you used to call her when you were alone. In front of other people, you called her Nessie, because she was as ‘mysterious and scary’ as the Loch Ness monster — and because it fitted her. An unknown monster, hiding in the depths of water, powerful and lonely, unreachable for the cowards and ordinary — just like her: you saw how Wednesday behaved, how her blank expression was nothing but a barrer, and you smiled at it. “Lucky me” you used to say “that I’m quirky and bold!”

“You mean dumb and reckless.” She used to argue back. Then you used to laugh and kiss her.

Used to.

Just like you used to leave messages in the crystal ball she was now holding.

“My parents have no say in the matter.” Wednesday said to Thing after watching him gesticulate. “Neither do you.” She shoved him out of the bench; he fell to the ground and signed angrily to her. “Leave me alone.” She ordered, without lowering her gaze to him — without letting her watery eyes be seen.

The air in the graveyard behind the church was even heavier than before; the oxygen was thick, cold, a warning of the coming storm. The heavens were about to cry, to tear up, to paint the whole city with their melancholy and grieve — and still, they were silent. The clouds moved fastly in the sky, but there was not a sound in the air: no wind blowing, no rain dropping, no branch cracking. There was only Wednesday and you, inside her mind.

I'm still holdin' on to everything that's dead and gone

I don't wanna say goodbye, 'cause this one means forever

In days like this, sad, cloudy Sundays, you would take her home after church, and stay: you would smile and make her parents laugh with your awful jokes; you would teach Pugsley some of your worst prank; you would arm-wrestle Thing, and lose every time; you would nag Lurch until he played the piano while you sang for all of them; you would woke up all the spirits of the cemetery with your voice and all the Addams would watch your performance; then you would say good night, and leave the house for a few minutes. The rain would fall, the grass would turn to mud and Wednesday would look out of her window. And she would see you there, sitting under a dry tree, waiting for her.

“You will die under this rain.” She said, stepping slowly closer to you.

“I will only die in your arms, Ma noirceur.” You reached her, and she moved like she had done so many times before: she sat by your side as your arms enfolded her tightly. “That’s better.” You whispered in her ear, your hot breath reaching her face as she turned to look at you. The water falling down on both of you froze your bodies, you were cold, trembling, soaked, and yet, somehow, your voice made her core burn; her face flamed while you smiled at her. But you were kind — you never stared at her for too long, you never laughed or talked about her blushed cheeks, you never asked her to hug you back; you simply held her as the sky collapsed above you.

You flinched every time a lighting shone on the heavens, and your hands loosened around her ever so slightly.

She never knew — and she would never know — if you did it on purpose. If moving away after embracing her so kindly was some kind of intentional torture. Because, for her, it was: her skin shivered as you distanced yourself, and she grasped you closer in a reflex. In an urge. In a need she would only show to you — only then, under the rain, when the sounds of the thunders and whispers of the winds sounded like the most beautiful choir around you. When, under her touch, you were hers, and hers alone; When you smiled while her lips found yours.

While her world spinned at the perfect pace, even though her heart was beating like never before.

You tasted cold, soaked yet sweet; natural, like dew, and her head got light once you moved slightly away.

“I love you, Wednesday Addams.” You spoke between laughs before kissing her again.

You were completely different from Tyler.

Tyler’s lips were warm, bitter, almost dry. His kiss made her stomach churn as yours torched her whole skin. He opened her eyes while you could keep her in the dark forever.

Now she missed it: she missed the darkness, she missed the rain, she missed you.

The storm wasn’t the same without you. The silence reigned without you by her side. It was torture, of the worst kind.

Then she asked herself again: for what reason?

For what reason did she make you go forever?

Now you're in the stars and six-feet's never felt so far

Here I am alone between the heavens and the embers

“The dead will miss you, my dearest.” Morticia sounded sad. It was disturbing to hear such a sweet, calm voice speaking like this. Like you were dead. You felt like you were — and now, you were indeed dead for the Addams. No matter how much you loved Gomez, Morticia and Pugsley, you couldn’t handle seeing them. You couldn’t bear talking and laughing with them while every single thing made you remember Wednesday — made you remember the boy she kissed while ignoring your letters. Made you remember her betrayal.

“Are you sure you don’t want to meet one last time?” Meet her. Gomez was still hoping for a reconciliation between you two. “You can always come here, you know that, mi cariño.”

“I know, sir, and I appreciate it.” Gomez frowned as you spoke. You haven't called him "sir" in years. “But I don’t think Wednesday would like it.” You tried to smile, but failed. Tears were about to fall from your eyes again. “I’m really sorry but I think…I think it’s really over.” You whispered. “Please send Pugsley my goodbye.”

You lost Wednesday. Now you lost your family too.

“We will, Y/N.”

“Adíos.”

Oh, it hurts so hard

For a million different reasons

You took the best of my heart

And left the rest in pieces

“Come on, Y/N!” Your friend held your feet and dragged you across the bedroom floor. “We didn't make your manager go through hell to back off now!”

“I hate you!” You grunted from the ground, your voice muffled by your hands. “Let me suffer.” You whined. “This is what makes a good artist!”

“Exactly! Turn this into something!”

You took your hands off your face.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean ‘stop crying and get yourself together!’” She grabbed you by your shoulders and made you sit up. “Let’s answer the questions from the fans and then you can play your new song.” Your friend held your face, forcing you to look at her. “Please.” She pleaded. “I haven’t heard your voice in days.”

“I don’t have a new song.” You mumbled.

“You do. I know you do!” She bit her lips, shaking her head in order to not shake you. “Get. Up.”

A week. You were in your bedroom for a week now and you wrote like never before. You have already done most of your new album. There was only one song missing — the song you have been mulling inside your head over and over again, incapable of singing it. You remained in silence for days because you could not force yourself to sing it — you could not say goodbye for her, not yet.

But you had to.

“HELL YES!” Your friend cheered as you stood up. “I’ll grab your guitar!”

I'm still holdin' on

Holdin' on, holdin' on

Your phone vibrated inside your coat’s pocket. You saw the screen and frowned immediately: an unknown number.

The call was answered and you held the phone to your ear.

“Hi, Y/N.”

Wednesday.

“I…I have to…”

You closed your eyes — a tear ran down your cheek as your breath faltered. Your whole body trembled as you struggled to remain in silence.

“Y/N?” You put the cell phone away. “Are you there?”

You ended the call.

I'm still holdin' on to everything that's dead and gone

I don't wanna say goodbye 'cause this one means forever

Now you're in the stars and six-feet's never felt so far

Here I am alone between the heavens and the embers

Wednesday continued to sit alone, watching the rain fall over the cemetery while your friend returned with the camera and your guitar. She stayed silent as questions and likes popped up

on your cell phone screen. The rain mingled with her tears as your eyes finally dried.

It was over. It was over.

The last question from your fans finally made you accept it.

“Any new song?” Your friend read the question on the screen. You were already holding your guitar by the time she turned around to smile at you. “What is your answer, Y/N L/N?”

You started to sing.

It was your goodbye.

Oh, it hurts so hard

For a million different reasons

You took the best of my heart

Left the rest in pieces

@tundra1029 @unknownvibesve @carolcunha7 @myfturn

#wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x you #wednesday x gn reader #wednesday addams #benson boone #in the stars #wednesday x reader

165 notes · View notes

thisstableground · 1 year

Note

can you talk a little bit about Cross Your Fingers and the decision to continue it into Not An Anchor I am thinking about it 24/7

lets go lets go! this will get SO SO LONG don't feel obliged to read it all

cross your fingers was pretty much always going to happen as soon as i decided to write encanto fic at all. the part of stories i always find most interesting is the aftermath, the bits that aren’t actually written.

there is a feeling i have experienced several times in my life: it is of waking up the day after something big, whether it was good or bad, and realising that your life is divided into a point before that and a point after that happened. you wake up in your brand new apartment. you wake up after they let you out of the hospital. you wake up after your life is ruined. you wake up after you hand in your thesis. it’s this fragile, shellshocked thing, where you have to start constructing the next stage of your life and you’ve no idea where to start, and one of the most distinctly memorable feelings i can recall.

anyway. i find myself going towards that kind of moment a lot in my writing. we wrapped it all up neatly, but life goes on after the credits. love an aftermath, love a rebuild. so that’s what cross your fingers was going to be, just scratching the itch that the rebuild montage at the end of Encanto gave me and expanding it out. giving some extra emotional resolution that i felt they all desperately needed. giving them those weeks of fragile, hurt, hopeful first days after something terrible happened, after something incredible happened.

(and also because i had that scene where bruno tells them he was living in the walls pretty much before any of the rest of the fic and it was too good to waste so i needed a story to put it in)

i actually didnt plan to add to it with not an anchor, initially. the people who are hanging out here just for encanto might not know, but ive spent. oh Several years now writing an obscure crossover fic series that is basically just a very long deep-dive into mental health recovery after an intense trauma, and i love it so, so dearly. so like, much as i instantly latched onto bruno as another sad tired little man for the collection, i didn’t want to just retell the same story i’ve already been telling in 90verse

so how'd i end up doing the sequel? well. writing cross your fingers gave me a chance to get to grips with one of the things that is delightful and unique about mirabel in the family: it’s that she sees people so completely. it’s something that she has to learn to do, mind, and we see that development through the movie. a practiced skill, not a natural talent. it takes her time to see isabela as she really is, to see what’s really going on with luisa, it takes time to find bruno and to understand alma. but that’s what mirabel’s about: not about being given the ability to do something immediately, but about having the tenacity and the love and the empathy to work at it.

i interpreted the cinematography of dos oroguitas, where mirabel is stnading right beside younger alma and pedro, watching everything, reacting as though she’s right there, as meant to be indicative of that level of empathy. its no small thing for any teenager (truly, even for a lot of adults) to be able to look at the older people in your family and truly recognise the depths of the life they had before you were born. you see them as always having been old, as always having been in authority, you don't always want to try and look past whatever front they put on, especially if they can be cold or distant, or if they have caused you pain. but mirabel can really, genuinely see the young, devastated, frightened woman that alma used to be, the happy, hopeful, vibrant person she was before that. and i think it’s those long-gone versions of younger alma as much as her own abuela that mirabel is holding her hands out to at the end. she treats her, even the versions of her that no longer exist, with such compassion

and i call back to that in cross your fingers: mirabel hears bruno tell her about the first time he ever had a vision of someone’s death, age six, and she will imagine that little boy as though he were right there with her, and she will be angry for him and sad for him just as much as she would for antonio, even though the little boy she's picturing is long gone, and is just her weird old wall uncle now. she sees them all as full people, when previously they’ve all become so defined and restricted by being the One Thing they’re magic about

and that, in turn, made me want to get into the very interesting contrast that comes up often in not an anchor. because ostensibly, it’s about bruno’s recovery process. but especially while it’s still in its early stages (and i do intend to come back and finish it, now that i’m back on my good adhd meds), you can see that in most places when the other characters try to engage with bruno as he starts trying to recover, we learn a lot more about that character than about bruno himself. the specific things they notice or the way they interpret his actions will always betray their own current fears or insecurities or preoccupations first and foremost. in that way, it isn’t really a story about bruno’s trauma, it’s about the collective trauma of the whole family, and the individual traumas that they all have- but he is what reflects that back to them

that’s what bruno’s role has always been. he is an uncomfortable truth that nobody wants to face. the thing that you can pretend won’t affect you as long as you don’t acknowledge its existence. the problem that, once someone picks it up and brings it into the light, the Everything’s Fine act you've been putting on becomes less and less convincing. that’s bruno, and that’s all the individual hurts and traumas that each member of the family has coming up to the surface in the aftermath of the movie. they love him, they're worried about him, they want him to be okay, but in a lot of ways, they are still struggling to see him past their own projections. they haven’t learned to see the way that mirabel has learned to see.

anyway. don't know if that makes sense, but it’s something that i find interesting to play with, as a tool for multiple character explorations at once. this is a scene that i think would be realistic to bruno’s recovery, but what POV is best for it? do we want bruno’s POV himself, will it be most narratively or emotionally impactful to know what he is actually thinking? or is it a scene that could in fact tell us more about julieta, or pepa, or alma? if i want it to be the beginning of something healing, which character would be most likely to instigate that? if i want it to be something that gets glossed over and repressed for now, which character would make that most likely to happen? if i want a fight, who will turn this into a fight?

aside from that, it’s the perfect kind of fic for emotional whiplash. as i said in response to the other directors commentary ask i got, i think that’s probably one of my most defining authorial traits - i hope in a way that still ultimately feels safe and comforting, because all my fics will always have the end goal of healing, but oh do i love to throw a reader a sudden change in tone. a fic exploring this sort of aftermath and this sort of healing in a family is so good for that. a scene can be so domestic and mundane and warm and turn suddenly into a realisation that something is terribly wrong. a conversation can start out so heavy and dark and turn ridiculous and comedic. a moment between reunited siblings can be so full of love and a lifetime of familiarity one second and so full of hurt and anger and awkwardness the next. that’s what trauma is like to live with. that's what life is like in general.

and also, as it turns out, there are so many fresh and interesting ways to write a sad tired little man recovering, so i didn’t have to worry about self-plagiarism anyway.

#thank u for the ask i love to write essays about my own fic #fandom: encanto

12 notes · View notes

summahsunlight · 1 year

Text

The Light of a Thousand Stars, Ch. 5

Rating: T

Word Count: 2208

Pairing: Poe/Skywalker!OC

Summary: Commander Dameron and Black Squadron’s continued search for Lor San Tekka brings them closer and closer to danger and exposing the First Order as a sinister threat. A new pilot on the team threatens their tight dynamic and although Poe is trying to desperately keep them together, he knows that at some point Evelyn and Kaleb are going to have to go their separate ways–to find their father and bring him back to the Resistance. Sequel to We Belong to the Stars.

Here is the next chapter! Enjoy!

Evelyn had walked into the briefing with Leia fully prepared to turn her aunt down and offer Poe up to go in her place--Leia of course had other plans. Thirty seconds into the briefing, Evelyn knew her aunt wasn't going to take no for an answer. Even after she had argued, adamantly, to not join her brother, her aunt had ordered her. "You're ordering me to go?"

Leia glanced at Kaleb and then Poe before answering her, knowing full well that she was only going to make her niece angrier. "Yes, I"m ordering you. In this situation, Evelyn, I'm not your aunt, I'm your general."

"So now, after all these years, you're going to pull that card out?" Evelyn shot back, accusingly.

"The needs of the galaxy outweigh your personal feelings," Leia stated, sternly.

"Haven't they always? Ever since I was a child!"

"I know you're angry and I understand--"

"No! I don't think you do understand, Aunt Leia, or should I say General. If you did--you wouldn't be sending me on this mission."

Poe quietly watched as Evelyn stormed out of the situation room, near tears, refusing the itch to follow her.

Kaleb sighed, heavily. "That went well."

Leia shot her nephew a furious look. "Your sister needs to learn it's not about her."

"I think she knows that; she made it clear she knows that."

"I am not going to argue with you as well, Kaleb."

Kaleb fell silent; Evelyn's words had affected his aunt. It wasn't like his little sister to burst out in such anger towards Leia. "I'll make sure the ship is prepped to leave in the morning," he said, instead. "That should give Evie enough time to cool down before we go."

Poe let out a slow breath. "Or...she'll jump in her x-wing and disappear for a few days," he offered up what was in the back of all their minds. "She isn't military, General; disobeying orders mean nothing to her."

Leia's brown eyes snapped up to meet his. "Disappointing family does though."

"Maybe we should leave as soon as I prep the ship--that way we don't give her enough time to run," Kaleb said.

"Agreed," Leia replied, rubbing her temples. "Poe, we need to talk about who takes her place on Black Squadron while she's away."

When he didn't answer, she looked up at him. Judging by the look in his eyes he didn't want to talk about that--he wanted to make sure that Evelyn was alright. In a way, Leia couldn't blame him. He was probably the only one that Evelyn wasn't angry with at the current time and he might be able to calm her down before she left with her brother.

Licking his lower lip, Poe didn't move from his spot, not until he saw Leia give him the silent okay and proceeded to go after Evelyn.

Sela Skywalker had been buried on Yavin IV--not far from her home. She had been memorialized several weeks later in the Senate.

Evelyn had worn the most lavish, black dress that her aunt's staff could find; the family had distinctive roles to play. Grieve, but don't look weak. Always stay a step behind Leia and your father. Hands clasped, chin high. And absolutely not one word about Ben. Behind a lace veil she had watched as person after person spoke about her mother, her contributions to the Rebellion, her bravery for leaving the Empire at the age of sixteen--her sacrifice of her life to protect her children. When they were done speaking, Evelyn carried a wreath made of flowers from her mother's home planet, resting them at the foot of a memorial to fallen Rebellion heroes. She was supposed to get up immediately, head held high, and walk back to her seat--seeing her mother's name etched in stone, froze her in place.

Tears filled her eyes, a rage boiling inside of her--absolutely not one word about Ben--she was supposed to pretend that Ben had not been the one to murder her mother, had not been the one to destroy everything. All in the name of reputation. Poe had been the one to get her to her feet. Evelyn had ran from the memorial--damn appearance, damn reputation.

She ran until her lungs burned, dropping to her knees in a garden in the middle of the capital city. This time she didn't run until her lungs burned, although she ran with the same amount of rage and pain. She ran until she couldn't anymore, when she arrived at the shore of the lake.

Poe found her there, at the edge of the lake, aggressively tossing rocks into the water. He stood there, silently, for a few moments, letting her get out her frustration. However, when it became clear that she was only getting more escalated, Poe stepped up, reaching out and clamping down on the wrist that held a rock firmly in its grasp. "Evelyn," he whispered, "stop."

Shaking, Evelyn dropped the rock in the sand and turned towards him. Her eyes were puffy and swollen from crying and Poe immediately was brought back to after Sela's funeral, when he found Evelyn amongst the ruins of her past life.

"Why did he leave me? I needed him! And he just left!"

"I don't know why he left," Poe answered, calmly. "I wish I did. I wish I could take this pain away."

"I just want to run away! I can't be what the galaxy needs me to be!" Evelyn sobbed. "I can't be what my family needs me to be!"

Poe moved towards her and pulled her into his arms. She curled into his embrace, her body shaking with violent sobs. He let her cry, holding her tightly and stroking her hair. When her body started to settle and her cries diminished, he softly said, "I would miss you if you ran away."

Evelyn knew that this was his attempt to make her laugh but instead it just made her cry. Then come with me, she wanted to say, but she had asked him that five years ago and he had walked away from her--surely he would do the same now. The circumstances were much dire. "I never asked for this," she cried.

His eyes closed as his fingers glided through her hair. "No one asked for this, Evelyn," he said, firmly. "It's just the unfortunate circumstances we've been handed."

She pulled away, shaking her head. "No, that's not what I meant--I never asked to be force sensitive, a Jedi--a Skywalker."

"We can't chose the family--the legacy--we're born into."

"I know that, but I'm not strong enough for this legacy." You're nothing but a disappointment--a failure.

"Sure you are; you've been through hell and still remind kind--that shows strength."

"Why do I feel so weak?"

Poe smiled, sadly. "It's not weakness, princess--it's exhaustion."

Evelyn closed her eyes and swallowed a sob. "Poe--I'm being serious here! Can you not make everything into a joke?"

He didn't need to be Force sensitive to know how tense she was or how conflicted she was; Poe could just sense it. He knew her so well. Taking a deep breath, he ran a hand through his hair. "Fair enough; listen, Evie...I told you a while ago that no one expects any of us to do this alone. We're stronger together."

She sniffled, wiped the tears from her eyes on the back of her hand. "Maybe then that's why I feel so weak, Poe, because right now I feel absolutely alone."

"You are not alone."

Before she could even say anything, Poe stepped forward and grabbed her hands in his own. Giving them a reassuring squeeze, he whispered, firmly, "Evelyn. Look at me." When she did he felt his heartbreaking at the look in her eyes. Wiping the tears away, he promised her, "You are not alone; you have me, you have your brother and your aunt. I don't want you to ever feel like you're alone, because you're not."

Closing her eyes to stop herself from crying all over again, she leaned into him. "Poe. Hold me, please."

Poe didn't hesitate; he enveloped her into his arms and held her tightly. If he could take her place on this mission--he would--in a heartbeat. The reality was that she needed to go; she needed to make peace with her past. Staying here would be avoiding it, bottling it up inside, and he was concerned that she was bottling too much already. At some point she would explode. His commlink buzzing broke the sudden peaceful quiet, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he fished it out of his pocket.

"General Organa says the Mirror Bright is ready to take off."

Can't we just give her a couple of hours? Poe cleared his throat. "We'll be there in five."

Evelyn moved away from him, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Everyone was afraid I was going to run, weren't they?"

Poe ran his tongue over his lips. "Yeah," he said, honestly. "Your brother and aunt didn't want to give you the chance." She didn't say anything for a moment, and he stumbled over his words, "Listen, I can call them back and tell them you need more time..."

Shaking her head, Evelyn sighed, heavily. "No. I just need to stop by my quarters before I go. Let's not keep them waiting."

Leia had once told her doing the right thing wasn't always the easiest. In Evelyn's case the right thing wasn't just hard--it was painful. While she understood the importance of finding her father that didn't change the fact he'd just disappeared six years ago. As the galaxy fell apart around her, Luke had just walked away, changing everything she once believed about him. The man she had grown up adoring, loving, would never have just walked away or so she had believed. Jaw clenched, she clipped her lightsaber to her belt and pushed the anger deep within her. She wasn't doing this for her father--she might be angry at both of them, but she was doing this for Leia and Kaleb.

Fixing her jacket, and with CB-2 following behind her, Evelyn left her small quarters.

The sun was just starting to set on D'Qar; there was hardly anyone on the flight pad--but everyone on base knew where Kaleb and Evelyn were off to that day. It was hard to keep secrets around this place, even if they had wanted to keep it a secret. Leia and Poe--along with BB-8--were the only ones to actually see them off.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" Leia asked her, giving her an out if she really needed it. "If not I can send Poe."

"Kaleb and Poe will kill each other if they go alone," Evelyn replied, glancing at her brother.

"What? No we won't!" Kaleb protested.

"We rescued you without bickering," Poe added.

Evelyn tossed him a gentle look. "You won't be rescuing anyone this time," she said. "You'll bicker and kill each other. I would know this would be the outcome; I grew up with you. Everything was one, big competition between you two."

Kaleb scowled at his younger sister. "Come on, Evie. I think we've grown up a little bit since then. If you really aren't up for this Poe and I can manage."

She knew that everyone was concerned about her mental state--she'd be lying if she wasn't concerned. However, Evelyn was aware that there were just certain things that only her and her brother could handle. Finding her father was one of them. "I'll be fine."

He tentatively glanced at his aunt but Leia simply shook her head, silently telling him not to argue anymore. Kaleb sighed and grabbed his bag. "Okay--then I guess we better get a move on."

Leia gently gestured for her niece and nephew to come closer to her so she could hold them--tightly--for a brief moment. "Stick together," she whispered. Pulling back, softly she touched each of their cheeks with a delicate hand. "Stay safe. We need you to come back here with or without your father."

"We'll be okay, Aunt Leia," Evelyn assured her.

"Yeah," Kaleb agreed, smirking at Poe. "We're not taking Poe with us."

"Your sister was right--I would have killed you," Poe snapped, glaring at him.

Evelyn suddenly wished that Poe was coming with them--his snarky presence around her brother felt oddly comforting--but she knew he was needed here. Poe could sense her unease and moved to grab her up in his arms, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. Evelyn closed her eyes tightly, thinking what if I never see him again?

Poe let his lips linger near her ears and whispered. "I'll be right here, princess, when you return. Promise."

This gave her the strength to let go of him, to affectionately scratch BB-8 on top of his domed head, and follow her brother onto the Mirror Bright. As the door closed, Evelyn and Kaleb glanced back only once at the place they had called home for the last six years.

#star wars #Star Wars fanfiction #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron #poe dameron x oc #my writing #the light of a thousand stars #we belong to the stars sequel

2 notes · View notes

colourful-void · 11 months

Note

Glad I got to watch you live-blogging your way through VLR, I enjoyed it a lot. Did you notice the bits of foreshadowing throughout the game leading up to the reveal of Sigma’s face? The way Phi calls Sigma “grandpa” in the first few minutes of the game, Phi being surprised when Sigma says he’s 22 years old, and various characters insulting Sigma’s eyesight, hearing, etc. Not to mention things like the infirmary mirror being too dirty for Sigma to see his reflection and the fact that the game actually straight up shows you Sigma’s gray hair in the security footage of Sigma and Phi being dragged by K, you (and Sigma) just don’t notice it because it’s far away and grainy. I love these small details that make up the game, and there’s similar stuff for 999 and ZTD that I love as well.

In the ZE communities I’ve been in at least over the years, everyone’s favorite game is either 999 or VLR. However, despite its downfalls and controversy within the community, I still think that ZTD is a crucial part of the series, and I don’t think many people would say it’s necessarily a game that should be ignored or not talked about. From what I’ve seen, we appreciate the good parts of it and extensively meme about the weirder or less impressive parts. Plus, once you play ZTD you’ll be free to browse all the fanart and content online without fear of spoilers… stuff like the 999 and VLR Q&A that happened before ZTD’s release is really cool.

And like an anon recommended, AI: The Somnium Files is a brilliant game by the same writer/director of Zero Escape, Uchikoshi Koutarou. I’ve yet to play the sequel, but my impression going through the first game was that it was exactly what I needed to scratch my Zero Escape itch, despite the fact that it’s nothing like Zero Escape. I’d absolutely recommend it as well.

I really enjoyed reading your thoughts and reactions as you went through VLR. If you end up playing ZTD, I hope you enjoy that as well!

Thank you, I'm really glad!!

For the forshadowing, I'd noticed a bit, but not as much as I ought to, probably! I'd picked up on the aversion to seeing Sigma's face, (him not being in group far away shots or having his face obscured when pointing to dio), though the mirror thing I totally just wrote off as the devs not having the budget to put that scene in there ahaha. And i was 100% ready to believe that Phi and everyone mocking Sigma's hearing/sight etc was just being mean skdfjsl

If there's anything i can apperciate it's something that's got its good moments to enjoy and its bad moments to meme the hell out of. (and it's relieving a bit knowing that if i go in and think 'well this is just silly' i wont be the only one, haha.) and yESSSS i'm very looking forward to seeing veryones cool art and fic and things!! and posting my own things ive been holding off on haha. i wanna follow some of the blogs who have been so nice in chatting with me, or who followed me after i started playing and chatting about it when im safe from spoilers!!

I'll definitely keep Ai in mind!! im not actually sure what the game play is for that, but I'll probably look into it a bit and then give it a shot. At least a cursory google search, which is more than i did for zero escape. thank you!!

and thank you again, I'm really glad you liked em!! I hoped they were like.. fun to read and not a blight on the tags, so hearing someone enjoyed them makes me so so happy!!!

#void nonary play #vlr #zero escape #vlr spoilers

3 notes · View notes

whump-tr0pes · 3 years

Text

Honor Bound 5 - 33

This is a series. Start here, continued from here.

This is a sequel to Honor Bound, Honor Bound 2, Honor Bound 3, Honor Bound 4, and the prequel Vera.

AO3

Masterlist

Content warning: self-hatred, death threats, discussion of death, gun

“Isaac!” Sam cried hoarsely as he opened the front door.

They came barreling into his arms, burying their head against his chest and squeezing him tight. Isaac’s eyes pricked with tears as he wrapped his arms around them and pressed a kiss to the crown of their head. He released them a moment later. He could barely breathe. His blood pulsed beneath his skin, his heart pounding in his chest, every nerve throbbing.

Tomorrow.

I’m going to get him back tomorrow.

Isaac looked up at the others, all crowded into the kitchen. Finn and Ellis had their arms wrapped tightly around each other, huddled in the corner, their faces pale. Vera stood beside Tori. Her mouth was set, her gaze steady on Isaac as he walked in, tucking Sam beneath his arm. Edrissa shifted her eyes away, standing on the opposite end of the kitchen as Zachariah. Zachariah’s face was haggard. He looked like he’d aged ten years in the month and a half since he’d reached the family. Deep circles were carved under his eyes, and his hands shook at his sides. Gray stood in the middle of the others, eyes wide and focused on nothing. Isaac thought he saw the glimmer of tears as they blinked and looked up at him.

“Um… h-haven’t made the call yet?” Isaac croaked.

“No,” Gray said weakly. “Wanted to… w-wait on you.”

Isaac’s throat tightened as he glanced around at the others. Every second they waited, Gavin suffered. Every inch of Isaac’s body ached with terror, with the unending pulse of hatred that burned through him with each heartbeat: my fault. My fault. My fault.

“L-let’s get it done, then,” he rasped. He felt like he would jump out of his skin if he had to wait another moment. His hand twitched for the gun he had tucked in his waistband. Vera’s eyes caught the motion. Her mouth twisted.

Silently, Gray pulled the cell phone out of their pocket and flipped it open. They hit redial and put the phone on speaker. They held the phone out in the middle of the group. It trembled in their hand.

It rang once. Twice.

There was a muffled clatter on the other end, and a harried voice sounding slightly out of breath answered. “Hello?”

The voice was unfamiliar, but it still sent a chill down Isaac’s spine. This was the firefighter that was going to walk into the town hall tomorrow and lead Isaac to Gavin. This person was going to help save Gavin tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

The possibility of failure didn’t even cross his mind. Gavin was at the town hall; Isaac knew it with every fiber of his being. He was going to save him. The only way he was not going to have Gavin in his arms tomorrow night was if he was no longer breathing.

“H-hello, Vanya,” Gray said with a shaking voice. “The whole gang is here. You’re on speaker.”

“Good, good,” Vanya said distractedly. A shuffling sound. “Sorry, I’m trying to get somewhere where I can talk.”

“Take your time,” Gray said breathlessly.

There was the whisper of movement, the distant sound of a door closing. Vanya’s voice seemed more muffled than before. “Alright, I can talk. Let’s, uh… let’s go over things.”

“What’s the plan?” Isaac said, unable to keep silent any longer. He bit his lip and clutched Sam tighter. They leaned against him and squeezed him back.

“Well first I… I’m, um, sorry for the short notice. This was the soonest I could schedule it and I felt like you’d want to—”

“Yes,” Isaac choked. “Y-yes.”

There was a deep breath over the line. “Okay. Okay. Good. So here’s my plan, the way I have it: I’m going to go to the town hall tomorrow to do a simple fire inspection. I’ve done half the town by now, and the town hall is right in line with the pattern I’ve been taking from east to west. There’s no reason for Schiester to suspect I’m doing anything out of the ordinary.”

Isaac nodded as Vanya spoke. His skin felt like it was buzzing.

Vanya continued. “I’m not going to do a complete fire inspection, because honestly, that would be a waste of time. That building is old enough that it might not even have a fire suppression system. But it’ll probably have an alarm system. There will be a room with an alarm panel that I can check. Sometimes there will even be a premise map that’ll give a detailed map of every floor… but I doubt it.”

“If DFS has been keeping captives in the basement, I doubt he’d leave a map up,” Vera said harshly.

Isaac huffed out a breath. Come on, come on…

“Yeah. Sorry. Anyway. There will be an alarm panel that will probably give me a good idea of how many floors there are. We have to consider the fact that there might be more than one underground floor.”

Isaac’s breath rushed out of him. He hadn’t considered—

“Isaac, this is where you come in,” Vanya said.

Isaac’s body went rigid. Ice crawled into his veins. “Y-yeah?”

“I’m assuming you’re going to be the one going in after him, based on what I talked about with Gr—”

“Yes,” Isaac snapped. His arm tightened around Sam. “I’m going in.”

“Good. Okay. Well, if there are any floors that show up on a premise map or on the alarm panel that the mayor won’t let me access, I figure there’s a pretty good chance that’s where to search. So… once I get a good idea of where Gavin is being kept—”

Isaac sucked in a breath. To hear someone else say Gavin’s name, someone Isaac didn’t know and couldn’t be sure he could trust, made his skin itch.

“—I’m going to get a message out to you. A call or text, probably, so I can send details. But I’ll figure it out. If there is a premise map, I can even give you turn by turn instructions.”

“I’ll find a way in,” Isaac said darkly. “I will.”

“Okay. Well… that’s where my part ends, I guess. I can really only get you the info on whether or not he’s there.”

“He’s there,” Isaac ground out through his teeth. “He has to be there.”

There was a long pause over the line. Then, “Yeah. It would make sense.”

Gray cleared their throat. “At that point, I’ll already be there with the car for my shift like normal. I’ll help Isaac and Gavin to the car.”

Isaac met Gray’s gaze and chewed his lip. Gray’s eyes shone with tears. Their face hardened into a look of agonized determination. Isaac blinked as he realized there were dried tear tracks on their cheeks. He swallowed hard and looked again at the phone in Gray’s hand.

“I’ll be waiting in the car,” Finn said. Their voice broke. “With my, um… med kit.”

Everyone was silent for a long moment. Then Vanya said, “I’m still working on gathering supplies for making a functioning fire department with… maybe a transporting ambulance soon. What are you planning on taking? I… You’re welcome to whatever I have.”

Finn’s throat bobbed as they swallowed. “Basic trauma stuff,” they said in a monotone. “Suture kits, tourniquets, trauma dressings, ten-gages, SAM splints, then…” They counted off on their fingers. “Fentanyl, ketamine, fluids, dextrose, epi, IV and IO kit, benzos, blankets and heat packs, vital signs stuff, my, um, airway kit w-with the surgical cric kit…” They shuddered, their face going paler by the second. “I’m thinking about packing some IV antibiotics just in case… Let me think, um…” They wet their lips. “Should I pack anything else?” they said in a quavering voice.

There was the uneasy sound of Vanya clearing their throat. “Um… not anything I can think of. That was, um… a lot more than I thought you’d be packing. I… if you need all that…” They fell silent. “Um… d-do you… have a hospital in mind if he, um… needs that?”

“No hospitals,” Finn said dully. “Whatever is wrong is something that… I n-need to fix.”

Isaac raised his head to look at them. His heart sank at the look of overwhelm overshadowed by flat determination on their face.

They feel as responsible for them as I do, just… different. He felt a swell of gratitude in his chest that threatened to choke him.

“Well… alright,” Vanya said softly. “If you need a restock before you head north again… just let me know. I’ll do my best to get supplies to you.”

“Thank you,” Finn said brokenly. Their eyes filled with tears. Ellis clutched their arm and they hugged Ellis tightly.

“We can’t bring too many people,” Vera said, her eyes unfocused. “Otherwise I would… I… would go.” She nodded slowly and looked up at Isaac. “You know I—”

“I know,” he said gruffly. He shivered like a chill had just gone through him. Sweat prickled under his shirt. “That means that… I… should probably be down there already when Gray arrives.” He rubbed his wrist against his hip, barely feeling the scrape of his belt against the scars that itched there. “I’ll head back into town after this, get a ride south. I’ll make sure no one sees or follows.”

“Where will you stay?” Vera said softly.

“In a fucking tent,” Isaac snapped. “On the sidewalk. In a dumpster. I don’t care. I’ll figure it out.” Before the words were fully out, Isaac ducked his head. He looked up at Vera beneath his lashes, already shrinking with shame.

A muscle ticked in Vera’s jaw. She stood perfectly still beside Tori, looking at Isaac evenly.

“I’m sorry,” Isaac whispered. “I… I’m…”

“It’s okay,” Vera said, and Isaac raised his head again. “I’m just… trying to work out the details.”

“I would offer my place, but… we really shouldn’t risk you being seen with me,” Vanya said, sounding apologetic.

“I could ask Mathias,” Isaac said. “He might say yes.”

“We’ll figure it out as soon as we hang up with you, Vanya,” Gray said. For the first time since Isaac had left to search the north, Gray sounded… not quite hopeful, but like there was a little bit of life in their voice again. Their fingers were white where they clutched the phone. “Thank you, Vanya. Truly. I… can’t express how grateful I am for your help. How grateful we all are.”

“Y-yeah,” Isaac croaked. “Thank you.”

The others all murmured their thank yous. Even Edrissa, speaking for the first time. She still leaned away from Isaac, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

“Well… I’ll, um, get going. If you need anything, call me back on this number. Also, the inspection is scheduled for ten AM, so…”

“I’ll be there,” Isaac said with iron in his voice. His hand itched to hold his gun.

“Okay. Well… good, um, good luck, everyone. I’ll see you tomorrow. Or not, maybe. Either way…”

“Good luck,” Gray rasped.

“Yeah,” Vanya mumbled. “Alright… take care.”

The line went dead.

Isaac let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He rocked forward, his arm squeezing even tighter around Sam’s shoulders, his eyes burning with tears. His heart felt like it would leap from his chest.

Tomorrow. Ten AM. Tomorrow.

His hands felt numb. He swiped at the tears running down his cheeks and into his beard. He felt something shift inside him, like something was about to snap. Blood pounded in his ears.

“Something we have yet to discuss in detail,” Gray said softly, “Is that… once we… have Gavin, Schiester will most likely come after us.”

“Let him fucking come,” Isaac growled. “I’ll rip that motherfucker’s head from his fucking—”

“If we kill him,” Gray said gently, “We risk facing the anger of the entire north.”

“If we kill Schiester, then we tell the entire fucking north what he’s been doing to kids and innocent people with shit fucking luck when they come through Crayton,” Isaac spat back. Edrissa drew away from Isaac, closer to Tori’s side. Tori’s hand went to her shoulder and stroked back and forth, soothing.

Gray was silent for a moment. Then, they murmured, “We could do that anyway.”

Isaac froze mid-breath, rage crawling under his skin, solidifying into something like vicious hope. “Y-yeah?” he croaked.

Gray shrugged jerkily as they slid the phone back into their pocket. “Even if he took those pictures down, they’re probably still in his office. If I see an opportunity – Gavin is the priority, he’s the only priority, but if I get the chance – I’ll grab them. Find a way to disseminate them. Those…” Gray’s voice twisted. “Those people… Their families deserve to know what happened to them.”

“But Gavin first,” Isaac said brokenly. “I… I need to get Gavin out first.”

Ellis wet their lips and spoke. “Guys… Hate to be the guy to point this out, but he might not be—”

“He is!” Isaac cried, whirling on them. His arm loosened from around Sam’s shoulders. “He is! He… he has to be there. H-he has to be… alive.” His chest tightened with a sob. “He’s there,” he whispered through numb lips. “He has to be.”

Sam wound their arm around his waist again. Their hand brushed the gun tucked in Isaac’s waistband. They froze and looked up at him, their eyes wide. There was a hint of fear in their gaze. Isaac pushed down the feeling of guilt that rose in him and looked away.

“All the same,” Gray said, holding a placating hand out towards Isaac, “We should pack tonight, and be prepared to move. Regardless of how the plan goes.”

“It’ll work,” Isaac said fiercely.

Gray’s head fell forward. “Regardless,” they continued softly, “We should be ready to move. Finn, Ellis, if you’ll—”

“We’ve been ready to go for weeks,” Ellis said, and shifted their feet. “We never really unpacked. Let’s be honest… we knew this was going to get ugly. But once we have the idiot back…” They shrugged and stared at their shoes. “We can settle in then. Wherever it is we end up.”

Isaac’s throat was tight. “And I should get going,” he murmured. “I need to get back home, find a discreet ride south. I, um… I need to figure that out.”

Sam’s arm tightened around his waist again, and he looked down at them. They stared up at him, tears welling in their eyes. He pulled them close and crushed them to his chest.

“Isaac,” Sam whimpered against his shirt.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Isaac murmured against their hair. “I’ll see you tomorrow, with Gavin. I’ll have him tomorrow.”

Sam shuddered and clutched at him. “I… I know.”

Tears burned in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut and kissed their forehead, trying to ignore the tears than ran into their hair. “Love you,” he whispered. Dread ached in his stomach at how much the words sounded like goodbye.

He swayed with them, realizing for the first time how much he’d missed this. He missed his little sibling in his arms, clutched tight. He’d barely seen them at all for the past…

The past thirty-five days.

They sniffled and pulled away. Vera was at his side, and she pulled him into a hug as well. He wound his arms around her waist and nearly lifted her off the floor with how hard he squeezed her.

“We’ll get our boy back,” Vera mumbled, her face pressed against his shoulder. “We’ll get him back.”

Isaac said nothing, only nodded. After a moment, he loosened his hold. She stepped back, and Tori took her place.

They all embraced him, one by one – Gray, Finn, Ellis, Zachariah. Even Edrissa walked up to him and stiffly stuck her hand out for him to shake. He could feel her fingers trembling. He kept his gaze down and bowed his head apologetically, only too aware of the rage that boiled inside him, just beneath the surface. When she drew back, she wiped her hand on her skirt.

When he turned to leave, Gray held out the phone. “Take this,” they said. “In case we need to contact you.”

Isaac tucked it into his pocket. “Sure thing.” His voice was hoarse. “I just need to grab some things.”

He turned and walked down the hall to the bedrooms. When he stopped in front of the room he’d shared with Gavin, his stomach dropped. He placed his hand on the doorknob. It was cool under his fingers. He drew in a deep breath and turned it, pushing the door open.

His breath caught in his chest. It was exactly the same as he’d left it, the morning he’d discovered Gavin had been taken while he slept. The bedspread was rumpled, the drawer of Gavin’s nightstand still slightly open. The curtain was drawn, but the last rays of the afternoon sun lit the purple fabric, casting the room in a strange, dim light. As he caught his breath again, he was nearly brought to his knees; he could just barely catch a hint of Gavin’s scent still in the room.

Isaac forced down his tears, forced down the way his hands shook, the way he wanted to collapse to the floor and sob his heart out. He went to the dresser and opened the bottom drawer. He took only the knife that lay tucked along the side, the handle sticking out from under a pair of pants. He strapped the sheath to his belt and turned to go to the bed.

He didn’t even have to look as he reached for the knife he had tucked between the mattress and the bedframe all those weeks ago, so that when the time came to protect Gavin from the threat he’d known, somehow, was coming – he could. His fingers wrapped around it and it felt dull in his hands. Heavy. Useless.

Useless. Useless. Useless.

He shoved the thought away and straightened up.

As he walked through to the front of the house again, he looked at his family, still all gathered in the kitchen, huddling together as if for warmth. Tears moved silently down Gray’s face, now. Isaac bit down on his tongue, holding back his own.

“I’ll see you all… tomorrow,” he said, feeling the weight of the gun against his lower back.

“See you,” Vera murmured.

“I’ll call you with any updates,” Gray said, wiping their face on their shirt.

“L-love you, Isaac,” Sam said softly.

“Love you, too,” Isaac croaked. He turned to go. His hand curled around his knife as he pushed open the door and walked out into the golden afternoon sun.

Continued here

@womping-grounds, @free-2bmee, @quirkykayleetam, @walkingchemicalfire, @inpainandsuffering, @redwingedwhump, @burtlederp, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog , @whatwhumpcomments, @cursedscribbles, @whumpywhumper, @stxck-fxck, @omega-em-z-02, @whumps-the-word, @justwhumpitwhumpitgood, @justplainwhump, @moose-teeth, @finder-of-rings, @inky-whump, @thatsthewhump, @orchidscript, @insanitywishes, @this-mightaswell-happen, @newandfiguringitout, @whumpkitty, @pretty-face-breaker, @cinnamonflavoredhugs, @pebbledriscoll, @im-just-here-for-the-whump, @endless-whump, @grizzlie70, @oops-its-whump, @kixngiggles

#honor bound 5 #rescue mission #aftermath of kidnapping #Vanya the firefighter #Zachariah: a boy who needs a nap #Isaac's self-loathing #death threats tw #death discussion tw #gun tw

63 notes · View notes

ruby-read · 3 years

Text

mid-year book freak out tag! - 2021

best book so far

a court of mist and fury by sarah j maas - 5 / 5 stars

need i say more? it was just so good.

best sequel so far

bitterblue by kristin cashore - 5 / 5 stars

i don't think i have talked about the graceling realm series and how much i love it on here but here i am.

i loved every book in this series but bitterblue stood out to me because even though it was incredibly long, it kept me gripped throughout. there was an unsolvable mystery (maybe im dense though) that kept me guessing for hundreds of pages and just a glimmer of romance which i usually miss when its not there but this stood on its own without it.

i thought bitterblue was an extremely strong character and it was a great ending to a companion trilogy (before winterkeep was announced and continued it). also, loved seeing all of the characters come together at the end and seeing katsa and po pop in and out.

new release i haven't read yet but want to

the nature of witches by rachel griffin realm breaker by victoria aveyard

something about witches and elemental magic just sounds so awesome to me and i am just so drawn to this book.

and i am currently enjoying the red queen series and love a good found family so im hoping to love realm breaker. ive heard mixed things so im gonna lower my expectations a little but still excited.

most anticipated release for the second half of the year

these hollow vows by lexi ryan aurora's end by *** ******** graceling: the graphic novel by kristin cashore six crimson cranes by elizabeth lim the hawthorne legacy by jennifer lynn barnes

idk why i am so excited about these hollow vows but i am and i think it's just gonna be a (hopefully) exciting fantasy romance. im hoping for two sexy men and a bad BITCHHH of a main character.

ive heard only amazing things about six crimson cranes so i am very very excited! i've been waiting for this book i think since january and its almost finally here!

aurora's end (even though the authors are cancelled) i NEED to finish the series then they will officially never receive my money again. the cliffhanger at the end of aurora burning was so incredibly uncool and so now i have no choice but to see what happens in the finale.

the graceling graphic novel. do i need to explain myself?

and the hawthorne legacy is the next installment in the inheritance games series and i really enjoyed the first book! the mystery and the way patterns were worked into it really had me intrigued and i was itching to know what was happening for the entire book. so excited to see what happens in the next one!

biggest disappointment

the crown of gilded bones by jennifer l armentrout - currently on pause/possible dnf

this book was just so boring but also SO much happened in the first 50 pages that i was honestly incredibly confused? and there was just overwhelming info-dumping about the history of the world and an underdeveloped plot. idk i just couldn't get into it (which was really disappointing bc i loved akofaf). thinking of dnfing...

biggest surprise

crown of midnight by sarah j maas - 4.5 / 5 stars

ok so. i really did not enjoy throne of glass. after reading the acotar series and then jumping into throne of glass, i hated the love triangle, the intrigue wasnt enough to get me engaged until the last third, etc. sooo i was even considering not reading the rest of the series. but of course like the sjm stan that i am, i had to. and this one was so good. i wrote a review on it so if your interested in more in depth thoughts go take a peak!

favorite new author (debut or new to me)

kristin cashore!

the way that she writes political mystery in her world is so good. not a single time did i have a correct guess on what was happening. i also loved how her books had strong woman main characters, but they all had agency in a different way. and how the romance subplots were small but enough to keep the romantic in me satisfied, but also didnt take away from the main heroines story. ugh just so good! love u girly <3

new fictional crush

aaron warner (shatter me series by tahereh mafi)

ok i know hes kind of like super crazy and kind of creepy obsessed, but also like.... cmon. hes kinda super hot too. and i kind of love the i hate everyone but you trope....

art credit: @jessdraw.s

new favorite character

lara (bridge kingdom series by danielle l jensen)

her strength, her agency, her ability to unlearn everything she grew up believing, her power. an amazing and complex character.

art credit: @rosiesfables

books that made me cry

a court of wings and ruin by sarah j maas

if you've read this book u understand why. there was a happy ending for our two main characters at the end but the war that ensued at the end of this book was just fucking heart wrenching and so beautiful at parts i will never forget everything that happened.

books that made me happy

heartstopper vol. 1 by alice oseman

i feel like this series is great for young readers (12-17). it teaches about friendship, sexuality, mental health, asking for help, how to offer help, etc. and tons of really diverse representation throughout. i wish this existed when i was younger.

it made me happy to think about young people reading this series and feeling seen and validated. and about how openly alice oseman illustrates difficult topics and how to deal with them. just made my heart swell.

most beautiful book bought/gifted so far

the ones we're meant to find by joan he

i mean... its gorgeous!!

books i need to read by the end of the year

crescent city by sarah j maas

again as a stan i need to finish this before the end of the year bc i have only heard good things and the second book comes out jan 2022.

favorite book to movie adaptation so far

moxie, shadow and bone, brigerton lol (and very excited about along for the ride!!)

2021 reading stats so far...

45 books read

35,000 pages read

11 ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ reads

4.13 average rating

thanks so much for reading my mid-year update! happy reading! : )

#bookish #books #book #book review #reading #mid year book freak out tag

3 notes · View notes

angrylizardjacket · 6 years

Text

Holding Court In A Crown {Roger Taylor}

Sequel to And All The Queen’s Men {Roger Taylor}

A/N: 3630 words. Giselle is fun to write and I love her. Another article style, based off of many conversations between @ginghampearlsnsweettea and I. Let me know what you think.

[And All The Queen’s Men ‘verse masterpost]

HOLDING COURT IN A CROWN - GISELLE TAYLOR in conversation with Vogue UK about her fashion evolution through the decades. (Published June, 1991)

When stepping into the Taylor home, it becomes immediately apparent that this is a home in which public image has always been very important. Gold and Platinum albums alike line the front foyer, shining reminders of the achievements of both artists who reside here. It’s surprisingly modern, hardwood floors and large windows that allow light to stream in, though the house itself is smaller than one might expect. Giselle herself greets me in the front hall, looking carefully casual in a flattering, warm yellow summer dress, that hits just above her knees, and a pair of matching yellow slip on shoes.

I’m lead through the house, past closed doors, one of which I’m told is a personal recording studio, into a open-planned kitchen-dining area. It’s a strange marriage of two aesthetics, no pun intended, the German-inspired open planned living with the dark counters, appliances, and features that make the space feel a little smaller, though it comes together to make something modern and chic, and perfectly suited to both Giselle and her husband’s images.

“Roger’s with the girls,” she tells me, referring to her daughters, pouring us both a glass of water in some of the fanciest crystal glasses I’ve ever seen, “not that he wouldn’t jump at the chance to talk about his “fashion choices”,” her air quotes, not mine, “but I thought I’d spare you the half hour argument about the wine stain, and all the other, sundry fashion choices of mine that he likes to take credit for.”

Giselle herself admits that she’s always been very fortunate in terms of fashion, “I mean, I look good in everything,” though there’s an air of self deprecation about it, “Actually, I’ve had a certain liberty with my work attire that not a lot of people have, unless you’re in the entertainment industry.” What began with a rented cocktail dress bloomed into one of the most influential fashion timelines of the 70s and 80s.

Beginning her career in an establishment modeled after American prohibition-era speakeasies, Giselle started off wearing cocktail dresses rented from the pub itself. “I actually did start off as a waitress, but for that you just had to provide your own black pants and white top, you know, wait-staff attire.” When the pub’s regular singer leaves, Giselle auditions to be her replacement, “they were just grateful I could fit into her dress, I could lipsync for all they cared.” Except, as well all know, Giselle can sing, and begun to make a name for herself in the community that frequented the pub.

Pulling out a polaroid of herself and music industry giant Ray Forrester, she shows me the only proof she has of the dress that started it all. It’s a rather ill-fitting, wine-coloured, sateen slip dress, it looks cheap, and according to Giselle, “it itched like crazy, it was cleaned once a week, and I was just glad that I was the only singer, some of the members of the jazz band had interchangeable costumes.” We both shudder at that, and she puts the photo on the counter.

As soon as she was given some modicum of control over her wardrobe, she took full advantage of it. Without a coherent aesthetic solidified by the release of her first album, Giselle admits she used the tour for Velvet Roses to experiment with both fabrics and styles. I personally have always favoured the midnight blue, velvet bouffant-style dress she wore during her stops in Belfast and Paris, but she goes on to praise the white, silk slip dress she had during her stop in West Berlin.

“Silk! Oh the silk, I dream about that dress sometimes,” she laughs a little, and now that we’ve begun to discuss her tour outfits, she leads me upstairs, “at the time it was the most comfortable thing I’d worn… ever; being able to work, to perform in something so luxury? It was a blessing.”

Her closet, at least the closet she stores her tour garments in, is separate from her bedroom, and locked. She’s got the key in her pocket, prepared, of course, for the interview, and as we step in I can hear the hum of a dehumidifier, and feel the chill of the air conditioning.

“It’s my one real extravagance.” As she turns on the lights, we’re greeted to the sight of a room, approximately four meters deep and half as wide, lined with railings that are practically stuffed with garment bags of varying sizes, and the end of the little room has a built in area for her jewel toned and bejewelled shoes alike. Three mannequins pose in the ample amount of space in the centre of the room, each wearing one of her most iconic outfits.

Each section of the racks around the side are carefully labelled by year, and it takes only a moment for Giselle to go through the section labelled 1971 before she’s pulling that same white dress from a garment bag. It still looks pristine, and when she offers for me to feel it, I understand what she’s saying.

“I’ve always tried to keep a very high standard in term of the materials I wear,” it was the first part of her aesthetic identity that was formed. “I’d never really had access to luxury on this scale before; I’d lived in sweaters and jeans for most of my [university] days; I was one of those girls in the little skirts and beaded tops at clubs- I lived my life in gogo boots every weekend of my first year.” Apparently she still has her favourite pair in the back of her personal closet, but seems hesitant to show me.

When asked what prompted her aesthetic shift, she reveals her passion for luxury stage-wear was only part of the decision. “I’d go on stage in silk pyjamas like Hugh Hefner if I could, but it’s not my brand.” Forrester was a big motivating force behind her solidification as the picture of elegance.

We get to the first of the mannequin dresses now, the fitted, black, off the shoulder cocktail dress, shining with sequins and beads, a perfect frozen reminder of her performance on Top of the Pops. To see it in person, still pristine, I get hit with just a hint of nostalgia, as does Giselle herself it seems. Marvelling at it with arms crossed over her chest, I’m granted a closer look at what was quite possibly the most iconic outfit of the 1972 lineup on the hit British musical program. The gloves themselves are more intricate than first imagined; what was assumed to just be red glitter is actually hand stitched, red sequins from the tips of the finger all the way to the wrist where it fades to chunky, red glitter, glued on and somehow width standing the test of time, to then dissolve into fine and sparsely scattered red glitter from the mid-forearm to the elbow. The beads and sequins on the dress itself are affixed with barely noticeable, shiny red thread, that gives the dress dimension up close. Giselle cites Gothic Romanticism as an inspiration to add depth to her jazz-bar persona, as well as the theatrics of musical theatre, going so far as to called the dress the ‘Merry Murderess’ despite the fact that the musical Chicago premiered almost three years after the dress’ initial debut.

Despite this look being regarded as one of her classics, and therefore setting the standard for her public image for the years to come, there’s no denying that Giselle didn’t enjoy experimenting with her outfits.

“I’ve never technically worn pants on stage,” as we move further into the room, she begins to pull various garment bags from the racks seemingly at random, “skirts, skorts, shorts - which some might argue are close enough - dresses, and even full jumpsuits, but never actual pants; I’ve always been worried that they were too masculinising for my act.” Moving on to the rack labeled 1975, she pulls out a particularly slim bag, and from it she pulls a pair of shorts made of what looks like liquid gold, but I know is made of velvet, with suspenders to match. It hangs over a sheer, flowing, cream crop-top with bell sleeves.

This outfit is cited as the first time she had deviated from her skirts and dresses, though the outfit itself is still exquisite and has an air of regality. “I was in Phoenix in ‘74 when I wore this; I’d had it included in my repertoire for the Hand Held Heart tour in case it became especially hot, which, being Arizona in the summertime, it was.” It’s here we start to see the influence of other artists bleed into her work; the occasional feathery flamboyance borrowed from Elton John, the avant-garde pattern and makeup work popularised by David Bow, and of course, the extravagance and glitz of Queen’s Freddie Mercury.

“You always have to specify that it’s [Freddie Mercury],” she’s very serious on this point, holding up her iconic, short, incredibly sheer white, long-sleeved fitted dress, marbled with red sequins to protect her modesty. It’s reminiscent of the red and white shorts Mercury had been known to favour on tours. “The others, while, yes, they could be well dressed on occasion, [Roger Taylor]’s lime green jeans aside, they never had the flair or audacity that Freddie had to be truly influential.”

After recording a cover of Queen’s Jesus for her third album, Giselle entered into an unofficial partnership with the band, which she tells me included a collaboration with Mercury himself on their costumes.

“I’d spent a long time trying to merge my style and my musical origins with modern aesthetics; I worked very closely with a designer, since it’s not technically my strong suit.” She pauses for a moment, and we make our way to the mannequins again, this time to the second, a floor-length, evening-gown style dress in lilac, capped sleeves, looking as though it’s tie-dyed with blackcurrant glass beads instead of fabric dye. “Getting to collaborate with the band was easy enough; I did talk with [Jim Beach] regarding the use of the song, but he ultimately he ruled that it was up to them, and so once that connection was established, I actually asked Freddie to help me with some tour outfit designs.”

People often assume Giselle is referring to her team contacting Queen’s lawyer, but she goes on record now to explain that it’s not true. “I’m a lawyer, my own lawyer, and I also work for several big-name bands in the music industry today. EMI picked me up halfway through my final year, but I still continued to go to [university], and I did actually intern under (sic) [Beach] while writing my second album. “ I’m assured that she had just regular suits in her personal closet; three, in grey, black, and cream, well fitted, ‘but not why you’re here’ she adds with a self-deprecating smile.

The lavender and blackberry dress was one designed by Mercury himself, the pale lavender representative of elegance and femininity, while the darker blackcurrant is used to bring depth to the dress the same way Giselle’s unwavering, calculated persona brings depth to her performances. It was Mercury’s idea to interweave the two in the tie-dyed style, keeping Giselle’s traditional aesthetic through the glass beads and the cut of the dress.

As we continue along the timeline, it’s clear to see the effect Mercury had on Giselle’s stage wardrobe, the use of geometric patterns coupled with bold colours, and more glitter and sequins than you can shake a stick at becoming more prominent throughout the late 70s, somehow still managing to keep in line with her traditional aesthetic simultaneously.

“I refuse to wear print.” She’s adamant about it when the possibility of wearing a garment like Mercury’s vest with his cats painted on it comes up. “Geometric doesn’t count; the texture in my wardrobe is always going to be,” she pauses for a moment, searching for the right word, fingers brushing through the fur of the fur-cuffs of a long-sleeved purple velvet number, “diegetic.” She settles on, and it’s clear what she means; patterns on her clothes are always wrought through beads or diamonds or fur or other things attached. “It’s the reason I have it locked, [Lilith Taylor, 7] has left the ‘indiscriminately grabbing things that feel nice’ stage a few years ago, but Rosie [Rosemary Taylor, 4] is just at the tail end of it. They’ll have free reign of this place one day,” she looks around at the fashion legacy she has built for herself, she wears an expression of pride, though it’s more focused on her daughters than the clothes themselves, “but for now I want to keep choking hazards and expensive furs out of danger.”

Around the very end of the 70s to the beginning of the 80s we see a return to form, with the resurgence of her form-fitted cocktail dresses. “There was a lot of change happening in my life at that time, and as much as I enjoy experimenting with my looks, it helped me feel secure to know I was in what was objectively my strong suit, pun not intended.” According to her, she’d just begun seeing Roger Taylor, and she used her fashion choices to exercise control in her life that she felt she was losing.

“My private life has always been very private, now here I am with the man who trashes drum kits and throws TVs out window; I was so afraid that every time people took a photo of me, or even looked at me, they’d think I was compromising my morals or integrity - which I’m not, and I wasn’t then.” She quickly clarifies. “Our personal history is not void because of where we are now, but Roger and I have also changed as people, and we’re allowed to have our feelings change. I’m honestly a little offended people think I we would have gone through all we did for mere publicity.”

Speaking of Roger, I’m a little surprised her wedding dress isn’t one of those on the mannequins, but I understand her choice, and we’ll certainly get to that soon. Her wedding dress sits at the back of one of the racks, carefully distant from any of the year labels. As she removes it from the garment bag, she gives it a softly nostalgic smile, brushing the fabric gently. “This should really go in my own closet.” It’s unlike most of her other outfits here, such a pale cream it’s almost white, floor-length and sleeveless with a Roman-inspired cinched waist topped with what I hesitate to even call ruffles, their drapings so loose it’s reminiscent of curled hair rather than a traditional ruffle. The material is so soft and light that even on a hanger it looks a little ethereal. It’s simple, elegant, and the very sight of it brings joy to her face.

“’81.” The year is surprising, as is the revelation she shares about how they celebrated their tenth anniversary a few months prior. Putting the dress away, we move to the early eighties, and it’s almost cyclical the way we’re brought back to the ‘Merry Murderess’ aesthetic with the lineup from her ‘The Bend Before The Break’ tour.

“Everyone and their mother seems to have read the article [All The Queen’s Men, Rolling Stone, 1985] and figured out I was in a shaky place at the time; it’s again about having that modicum (sic) of control. Part of me reverted to portraying myself in the way when I felt like I was at the height of control in my relationships and career. It’s a pretty aesthetic,” she gently pulls a velvet, wine-coloured cocktail dress from the rack, giving it a gentle pat, “it made my stage presence feel good, honestly.” It doesn’t sound bitter, but she puts the dress back.

Apologising for a moment, she explains the large gap between ‘82 and ‘84, with her Finally, Sunlight tour. “After coming home from the [The Bend Before The Break] tour, I took some time to myself; I was, of course, still writing, but I couldn’t really perform or make any big public appearances after like, July in ‘83, because I was quite pregnant, and, again, I’m a private person.” The Finally, Sunlight tour is known for two things, Giselle wearing gold, silver, and copper, in any and every way she could, and the Atlanta Breakdown.

“I wore metallics because Finally, Sunshine is about my baby girls, and they are so precious to me.” As was made clear in the Rolling Stone article, Giselle and Roger lost one of their twin daughters to illness in Autumn of 1984, though Lilith survived, it took a devastating toll on the couple. Moving past that, we’re finally brought to the crown jewel of the collection; her Live Aid dress.

It’s almost the antithesis to the ‘Merry Murderess’, though it shares a similar neckline and off-the-shoulder style. The Live Aid dress, which Giselle calls ‘Queen Midas’ for reasons I’ll get into later, has a white, crushed velvet bodice with an inbuilt corset, and basque waistline. Beneath the waist is a enough layers of thin and flowing georgette to become completely opaque, like a waterfall from the waistline, the colours fading from a bright, sunshine yellow at the hip, to a rich, sunset orange by the knee, and finally to a smokey, warm-toned charcoal where it brushes the ground, with gold jewels dotted around the bottom and creeping almost to the knee in some sporadic places, reminiscent of embers in a fire. Her gloves are white velvet, and just like with the first of her most iconic outfits, it’s gold sequinned fading to actual glitter and diamonds.

“I took a hard look at where I was and what I had achieved, and... whether or not I can help it, I effect people, through my music, my actions, through what I wear, and can be a double edged sword. Sometimes it can hurt, or I can hurt others by saying or doing the wrong thing, but sometimes I find myself wanting for nothing; everything I’ve held close has turned to gold. I wanted to show that, to be able to be a part of something that gives back to the world where it’s given me so much.”

With all her most well-known outfits having been covered, there’s one more that comes to the top of my head; the jacket of 1980. The tabloids had a field day with her choice of wardrobe as she stepped out of a car with the rest of Queen wearing a salmon and green floral, double breasted suit jacket, with silver buttons and silver stilettos, with sheer, thigh high white socks held up by a garter belt, hair fashionably messy, but makeup pristine. The deviation from her usual pristine image had shocked both paparazzi and public alike, however the daring outfit had quickly been lauded as one of her best, many publications who ran photos even citing it as the entertainment industry’s hottest innovative look of the decade. Even since it has stood the test of time, and has been attributed to the rise of patterned and bold suit jacket purchases by men and women alike, with the outfit have been cited as inspiration for more than one celebrity’s red carpet look.

Now, however, something, possibly amusement, possibly annoyance, crosses her face, and she tells me it’s not here. The jacket is Mercury’s. “We were on our way to a party being hosted by [Elton John], and I’d only been with Rog for a few months at this point; so we’re in the back of the limo with the other [members of Queen] and Roger’s spilled his wine on my nice, white cocktail dress.” It seems like a bittersweet memory, and she reminds me of her earlier comment about the ‘wine stain argument’. “In hindsight, everything worked out, but at the time I was absolutely livid; very nearly killed him in that backseat. Poor [John Deacon] literally had to drag me off of him. [It] took both him and Freddie to hold me back when Roger got out once we arrived, and they had the driver circle the block again so I could change into Freddie’s jacket, which he so kindly lent to me.”

From her tone, and her following comments about how her husband likes to bring it up, it seems as though it’s a well worn argument of how Roger Taylor enjoys taking credit for the look, though Giselle doesn’t seem like she enjoys giving him the satisfaction.

“My image has always been about how much I can control what people see of me, and to have that control taken away by a careless action, it really hurt. A man like Roger, in the entertainment industry, is never going to face the kind of scrutiny that I do, it’s the reason you’re here at all, talking to me about fashion rather than say, how difficult it is to be a practicing lawyer in the music industry while raising two beautiful daughters. And I still write music on occasion. But people remember what you show them, how you present yourself; my tour wardrobe is a reflection of the persona I let interact with the world, and it’s beautiful, and a legacy that will probably outlive me to some extent.

“Do I regret any of my fashion choices? I don’t really have the liberty to, do I? And either way, they’re part of the reason I’m where I am today; I made a niche for myself that was built initially on my aesthetic, if I’m being generous, so I suppose I’ll always be grateful to it.”

#roger taylor #roger taylor x oc #roger taylor imagine #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #bo rhap #queen #borhap imagine #the angry lizard writes

138 notes · View notes

theantisocialcritic · 4 years

Text

Archive Project - January 2, 2012 - Gaming in 2011

Since this fall was one of Gamings most exhaustive with over a dozen AAA titles in less than three months, i thought Id share my opinion about some of them and review the ones I played.... Full list: Dead Island, Gears of War 3, RAGE, Batman Arkham City, Battlefield 3, Uncharted 3, Sonic Generations, Modern Warfare 3, Skyrim, Halo Anniversary, Assassins Creed Revelations, Saints Row The Third, Super Mario 3D Land, Legend of Zelda Skyward Sword, Mariokart 7 (3DS), Just Dance 3, Star Wars: The Old Republic. -Dead Island: I've never been a fan of the whole Zombie franchise, not because they are bad games, but because ive had to be selective in my gaming purchases. Everything i've heard about Dead Island however has been very good and is probably the best zombie game of 2011. I wouldn't know though. -Gears of War 3: This long awaited title is debatably the most anticipated game of 2011, and definitily the most anticipated Xbox title. The title finishes off the Gears of War trilogy with a satisfiying (though cheesy) resolution to end the Locust War. -RAGE: Anticipation for RAGE was high as shared development between Id software and Bethesda Softworks, two of gamings most notable companies, brought the title to life. The game was expected as a mix of DOOM and Fallout, an action packed, open world, first person shooter with a detailed plot, amazing gameplay and hundreds of hours of gameplay. This was not the case. The game reported to have a low total length of about 10 hours and a weak storyline. Where RAGE shines however is in its gunplay and technical feats. Overall this game is fair, but doesn't live up to either companies standards. -Batman Arkham City: Seperate from the movies and following the plot to Arkham Asylum, this game provides a deep look into the Batman Universe and is praised for its story and innovative gameplay. -Battlefield 3: Back in October I was DYING to play this game. It was the first major title this fall I was prepped to buy and I was excited to finally get a chance to keep up with the newest gaming buzz. Unfortunatly the release was less than ideal. It came out the week I was preoccupied with the Fall Play and I didn't get a chance to open it. By the time I finally had freetime to play games, Modern Warfare 3 had been released and I was itching to finally finish the storyline for that. Finally in late November I got my chance. I popped the game in my xbox and began the Campaign. Immediatly I enjoyed the game. However as time went on the Campaign seemed to drag on and on. I had a difficult time understanding the plot and the characters were difficult to relate to and feel emotions for (Unlike MW). Then I tried out the Multiplayer. I was not impressed. The maps were too large and the players were all far more experienced than I was, I didn't have much fun. Overall Battlefield 3 has amazing technology, but unless your willing to dedicate more time to it, then it isn't as much fun. -Uncharted 3: I don't own a Playstation, however reception for this game has been very good (Im assuming Nathan Drake is the Indiana Jones of Video Games). When I finally do break and buy one, this game is definitly on my list of games to try. -Sonic Generations: Old Sonic meets New Sonic, brushing aside the obvious cheesiness of this concept, the game seems to provide gamers with the chance to live out their favorite form of Sonic games. But since ive never been a strong fan of the series it means little to me personally. -Modern Warfare 3: I bought this game for the sole purpose of defeating Makarov! (Oh I can hear the COD fans screaming right now). Ive never been a fan of COD multiplayer. Ive gotten into it recently but its vastly different then the games im used to. Ever since Black Ops, Activision has been publishing really crapped COD titles that simply reskin the previous game with new graphics and stories, barely changing the gameplay or multiplayer at all. This game is basically a $60 addon for Modern Warfare 2. Not only that but they expect gamers to pay an additional $50 for multiplayer upgrades. Frickin heck!!!! -Skyrim: OH FRICK YES! When I first heard of Skyrim about 8 months ago it didn't seem that big of a deal to me. It just seemed like a crappy sequel to Oblivion (which I didn't play). So I turned my attention elsewhere, notably to the newly revealed Halo 4. However about two months ago I began hearing alot about this game and how excited people were for it. I still wasn't interested. I had already sunk $180 in games already and Christmas was on the horizon so I continued to ignore it. News of Skyrim only increased after the release as all my gamer friends talked about it exclusively while I sat in the corner playing Halo. Eventually the buzz got too great and I broke and decided to rent a copy (not convinced I would like it). Just today I dedicated a few hours of my day and sat down to play it. Now I can safely say that I am in love with the game as much as any other. In a few hours I had climbed a mountain, discovered an ancient tomb and killed a fire breathing dragon. This game is definitly on the list of games I need to buy in the future. -Halo Anniversary: When I first heard about this in June, I was gitty with excitement. Like many I feared that Halo would die after Reach and that the series would never be as acclaimed as Call of Duty took over. As I watched the live E3 announcement I was filled with hope as a new decade of Halo games came into the light. For months I waited impatiently to play the new Halo title. I loved Halo 1 and I couldn't wait to see it in HD. Finally the day arrived. After a long day of school and an agonizing ride to the local Gamestop, I held the game in my hands. I brought it to my dad's apartment, turned on the Xbox and blasted my way through the Pillar of Autumn and across the surface of installation 04. I would have played all night if school hadn't directly followed. Though quickly the game grew old to me. Something ive noticed about Halo titles is that they have an amazing amount of replayability, but get old if over played. The game itself broke down into two features. One was the rebooted Halo 1 campaign, and the other was a map pack for Halo Reach. The games renewing quality was its reduced price tag of $40. Thus making Anniversary what Halo 3 ODST wanted to be. Overall a worthwhile purchase if all its aspects are to be respected. -Assassins Creed Revelations: I very specifically was not interested in this title. Why? Because the Assassins Creed Franchise is a buzzkill. I could have easily rented this title at the local Redbox for a mere $2 a night, played it and given it back. But no. I didn't. Why? Because the franchise is story driven by the previous title and hits a cliffhanger at the end of every game. Id have to play 1, 2 and brotherhood just to understand the plot prior to the game. I might as well just google the entire plot. Plus the gameplay is repetative. Jump off building, kill guy. Jump off building, kill guy. Jump off building, kill two guys. See my point? -Saints Row The Third: Its a ruder Grand Theft Auto clone. Enough said........ -Super Mario 3D Land: Back in November, I had been given the opportunity to hang out at the local gamestop while my mom was busy. As usual I took note of the various titles avaliable, asked some questions to the clerk and played some demos avalible. Notably the new Mario title. As with every Nintendo console, a Mario title is paired up to boost sales. With nothing better to do, I approached to sample 3DS (you know the one nailed to the wall) and played through the first level. Rarely do I enjoy a game the first time a play it. Usually the controls become a hastile and I dread my first experience. But the controls came naturally to me. The level was simple and fun and I honestly enjoys playing through it. When I finally buy my 3DS, Mario is one of the first titles I will buy. -Legend of Zelda Skyward Sword: There are not bad Zelda games, there are ones that dissapoint slightly or have frustrating features, but all the titles are quality titles worth their cost. I am not personally a zelda fan, but I have tremendous respect for the franchise and its fans. Skyward Sword is definitly a notworthy title. The game cronologically takes place before Ocarina of Time and Majoras Mask. The game however is vastly different in style from previous zelda titles and may alienate some fans. Overall the game is praised for its quality and story. I applaud Nintendo for ending the Wii's Lifespan with such a wonderful title and look forward to seeing what titles they have in store for the Wii U in terms of Zelda. -Mariokart 7 (3DS): Since the Nintendo 64, every Nintendo console has to have a mariokart game. They are fun, simple and bring in the bucks for our friends in Japan. Mariokart brings the same style of racing Nintendo characters to the 3DS and is worth the cost. -Just Dance 3: either you play motion sensitive games or you don't. If you like them and music games, then youll like it. If you don't, then you won't like it. Simple as that. -Star Wars: The Old Republic: A star wars MMO, not an original concept but definitly a profitable one. Following the success of Knights of the Old Republic and the huge following for MMOs like World of Warcraft, Lucasarts and Bioware came together to produce The Old Republic, allowing fans to make their own epic journey in the star wars universe. However the game is plagued with issues. Notably the fact that all players are forced into a waiting room upon signing into a server until enough room opens for them.

0 notes

fictional-scenarios · 7 years

Note

Oooooooooo could you write a sequel to Kuroo angst you poster recently??????

sure thing! -mod cassie

It took nearly two weeks for you to look at him, and about a month for you to start answering his texts. Though Kuroo knew exactly what he did and how it affected you, some other apathetic part of him felt as though you were drawing out a needless punishment. Sometimes in the later hours of the night he’d find himself entirely pissed off for how guilty you were making him feel, fingers itching to send you that mile long text that would start in a ‘sorry’ and end in a ‘grow up’. However once those nights passed and he saw you wandering to your class that anger would shrivel and beneath it that same regret would resurface, his pride once again making a show and urging him to turn the opposite direction.

The first time you finally gave him a half wave when he walked into the building his heart nearly flipped. It was just a wave and a half hearted one at that, but you were acknowledging him at least. He’d wave back in earnest and sometimes would even directly say ‘good morning’ but usually you never replied to them. When you finally came around and do did he, he had to bite back apologizing over and over again, fearful he’d scare you off. Instead he just waved to you whenever he could or offered a friendly smile whenever his hands were full, grateful you’ve return the gesture.

When you never answered his pathetic apology, he’d send you one about three days later, a stupid ‘hey, you alright?’ Unsurprisingly you didn’t answer that one either. So, when you finally did, he felt like he’d double over in his seat. Though the night was over and he was just getting ready to get up from studying and head to bed, he still felt his throat go dry at his phone lighting up, your name displaying over the screen.

‘hey’

He was so fast to respond it amazed him that he didn’t make any spelling errors, not that he’d checked at all when he hit send and then made his way under the covers.

‘hey’

Your name lit up again, his phone vibrating and his breath leaving him.

‘do you have time to talk’

He almost replied with ‘anything for you’ but instead sent a simple, ‘yeah, sure, whats up’. He felt horrible in acting as though he had no idea what was going on, like he totally wasn’t expecting you to already be chewing his ass out for being such a hardass to you back after the game.

It took you a few moments to answer and in those long minutes Kuroo’s anxiety grew with every second.

‘i just wanted to say i was sorry for ignoring you these past few weeks. i wish i had an excuse but i dont’

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Sure in the times where he’d get angry at you he’d imagine you apologizing but actually seeing it in front of his eyes made him feel even worse than before. He’d exploded on you for just trying to help, and even after that he was just as much in the wrong (if not more) for not manning up and apologizing right away. Instead he chose to give you the silent treatment as well.

‘it’s fine, really. im sorry too for being a dick and for saying all those things to you. i dont have an excuse either, i just hope you can forgive me’

Sometimes Kuroo wished he could sound more genuine as he read his reply, feeling like he was speaking way too casually to sound like he was as sorry as he was. He was afraid you would think he was just talking out of his ass, like he didn’t actually give a damn about how you felt and was just going with it. When you replied he was almost scared the only thing you’d had sent would be a big, fat, ‘no’, but it wasn’t.

‘i forgive you.’

Even though it was late and his mind felt fried from all the practice and studying, he still leaned his head back against the pillow, phone clutched to his chest while he grinned. A weight had been lifted off his shoulder and though he knew these messages wouldn’t solve everything it was the most relieving thing to see those words. You forgave him. As he brought his phone up to his face, squinting at the brightness, he smiled all over again and sighed at your answer before sending his own.

‘thank you, ___, seriously. that means a lot to me even if it doesn’t seem like it.’

His room was dark save for his screen illuminating, but he’d never felt so content in his whole life. He still had some guilt clinging to his shoulder, eating away at him slowly, but for the moment he truly felt like you two could finally start getting somewhere again. The fear of potentially ruining any chance of being with you greatly damaged a lot of Kuroo’s persona, so much so that even his teammates asked him occasionally if he was feeling alright. That ‘fateful’ night replayed in his mind over and over again, his head creating alternate pathways on what he could have, or should have, taken and where they could have led him.

‘im glad it does. i miss you a lot tbh’

You sounded just as casual as he did and maybe that wasn’t a bad thing, since it made talking a lot easier than just spilling emotions and crying out ‘im sorry’s every few seconds. Kuroo stared at the ceiling, closing his tired eyes and smiling again.

‘i missed you too’

A few more minutes passed after his reply and you still hadn’t answered, and for some ungodly reason Kuroo feared he may have made things awkward, and once again he almost dreaded reading your message when his phone alerted him.

‘hey i know we havnt talked in awhile but do you maybe want to hang out sometime this week? if u dont wanna thats find i just think it would nice to catch up or something idk’

He actually laughed quietly, head tipping back again after reading your question. Even though the circumstances were less than desirable it was cute to him, and he was still smiling as he answered back.

‘that sound awesome, where do you wanna go?’

‘hows that one place by the corner store sound? i heard its good’

‘it sucks’

‘oh haha, how about that one we used to go to together a lot? i cant remember the name either oops’

Kuroo licked at his lips, remembering how often you two would eat out after he was out from practice. He didn’t like it too much but when you were there with him, it was his favorite.

‘sounds great. we can catch up on stuff cant we?’

‘yeah’

You sent another right after.

‘like i said i really missed you. sorry ive been so mean :(’

His heart fluttered again as he typed away, hesitating before sending.

‘its fine, really, i was the jerk. im just glad we’re talking again, and im also happy to be revisiting our place again. eating at our place is way more fun isnt it?’

‘haha, our place sounds about right.’

It felt good to be saying ‘our place’, it made him feel like you two were right back to being the close knit friends you always were, even if a lot of it was spent on him pining for you and wishing you felt the same way.

‘so its a date then?’

Kuroo nearly choked when he read your message, heart doing flips as he sat up and re-read your text to make sure he wasnt mistaking it on accident.

‘a date?’ He sent, hands nearly shaking. He definitely hadn’t misread your text, but it felt too good to be true.

‘oh sorry, would you rather it not be? ig that makes sense given we havnt been talking… we can just hang out haha’

‘NO a date is fine. thats even better than just hanging out.” His entire body felt weightless, nearly feeling like he had whiplash from your sudden question and how lucky he had gotten. He was excited to be just conversing with you again but going on a date? Finally doing something he’d been dreaming of? Again, the context was less than desirable but he still beamed at the chance.

‘alrighty then, i cant wait! ill see you at school tomorrow right kuroo? at our spot?’

Your spot being the tree a little outside the gates of school, the place where you’d met because he bumped into you while not paying attention since he was too busy harassing Kenma on not making too many friends despite it only being the first week of highschool. You were prepared to be hit and almost fell over, and would have hit the dirt if he hadn’t managed to grab onto your arm. It hurt and left a bruise but after that day you two became pretty close.

‘yeah, our spot.’

‘get some rest then, see you tomorrow (:!”

He sighed in delight, imaging seeing you tomorrow and thinking of all the things he could say to you.

‘see you tomorrow, ___.’

Kuroo clicked his phone off when you didn’t answer back, probably heading to sleep with the same butterflies in your stomach. He wanted to feel mature and cool, but he couldn’t stop himself from flipping on his side and holding a pillow tight in his arms, body wrapping around it while he grinned into the plushness.

Once again those scenarios started racing in his head but they weren’t an offspring of regret and what he could have done. Now, it was excitement, the things that he could and would do when he saw you the next morning.

#Kuroo Tetsurou #haikyuu!!#hq!!#scenario #kuroo tetsurou x reader #mod cassie #request

34 notes · View notes

praeuro · 5 years

Text

So, this is the long ass post with my thoughts and generally blabing about DMC5. I will cut it so that people don’t have to suffer through my screams but yeah...

So first thing’s first I just wanna get out of the way the styles I used with Dante and give them a sort of ranking and comment about them for this game around. Last time I went full into Swordmaster and just cleaned faces off the screen. This’ll be an ordered list 1-4 in order of my favourite to least favourite, with consideration to all devil arms and guns.

1. Gunsilger

I wanted to have a crack at gunslinger style again since it destroyed my hands in 3 and I never really went back as much but this time around it was really enjoyable and didn’t drive my hands into a craze. Eb & Iv were fun to use with this stance though I could see them getting lack luster by the end, I just wasn’t hitting as hard which is understandable. I only used Cyote-A to get myself out of crowds, or to occasionally push back. Kalina Ann I actually loved this time around because of it’s functionality with you know what...I can’t believe gunslinger could turn Dante into a fucking Ghostbuster. Nah I loved using both Kalina Ann, and it’s second counterpart. God throughout the game after I found that I just wanted Dante to show lady I found her old gun, but no Dante had to be a fucking pest and-FUCK I JUST REALISED THE BITCH STILL HAS IT POOR LADY—FUCK...*sigh* okay Dante you owe Lady big time (does this mean she gets a third iteration????). What were the other ones....? OH RIGHT Dr. Faust. I didn’t want to touch that one, it was a double edged sword and it was fun for a time but I felt like I was just going to use it all up and suffer with it. After I got KA2 I just abused the gunslinger stage 3 mechanics and blew shit up with my LASER lol

2. Swordmaster

It’s really hard not to fall for the one thing Dante is good at. It just boosts his Devil Arm’s power by so much. I loved the swords, I LOVED USING BALROG man that was a good devil arm, nice throwback to the ifrit, and I guess the gilgamesh. CAVILIERE WAS PRETTY DAMN NICE although I’m an average to high speed weapon user so slowing down that much was pretty painful for me (I didn’t use it for long), though I did like it’s swordmaster ability—that came in handy to break so many blocks. Oh and now I welcome the throwbacks and go _**AHH **_because of Cerberus, or now it’s King Cerberus I guess. VERY NICE UPGRADE THOUGH. But yeah sword master was nice in the end...as usual.

3. Trickster

Gonna be honest here and say that I only ever used this as either an evasion mechanic, or when platforming was involved. I just never use trickster offensively.

4. Royalguard

Sorry but I hardly touched this. I still have troubles with the timing, and idk why. It’s just not my style...heh. However it was nice to use occasionally to block certain horrible things. I’m not a tank, but eventually I’ll learn once I do another playthrough.

Okay so with that out of the way I just wanna throw out there that god this was refreshing to have. I do find it weird that this time we have a playthrough that’s intermingled instead of separate start to end. However it’s nice and lengthy still and blends quite nice. Although before I go further I fucking hate that I can’t read the mission descriptions in time before the level loads, even though it’s just a small recap of what happened before I STILL WANNA READ D:

Okay another thing I wanna bring up is Gold Orbs. They THREW them at me like no tomorrow. I used a few yeah but I always had like 8 on hand and I didn’t go looking for them actively. It feels like the kupo coin from KH3, too much power with too much convenience. I liked the blue and purple orb stands though, they were a nice touch instead of just throwing them on the floor or something.

I liked how the story went, though by the middle I picked up and gasped at a few things, and the throwbacks/callbacks holy crap they were nice to mention all the crap and people you know. Even fucking Patty and Kyrie got some nice kicks into this game damn, honestly wasn’t expecting patty. *SLAMS FACE INTO THE TABLE* GIVE. ME. MORE. SIDE. CHARACTER. CONTENT. Sad to not see either of them in person but oh well, maybe next time.

I wanna throw a shoutout to my best friend BlueSpiritFire1 for watching the DMC anime with me because I was a bitch who forgot that shit was a thing. Thank god because it came in handy so much.

Vergil actually fucking stopped being a stabby little bitch for once who’d of thought! I just wish while those two are together they’ll actually start acting mature with one another instead of bringing up the whole POWER and STAHP BEING A DORK thing. I do want Vergil to get an appropriate standing with Dante and Nero because he just needs to slow down and start cooling off. I would love it if they’d just talk for a bit you know, more time to chat.

Controlling V was nice because in other games I like the mage/summoner/support role. He was nice to use and I actually got heaps of Ss ranks on him which is great.

Nero’s new devil breaker arm took some getting used to especially when controlling his magazine and how you can’t gently detach the arm like a fucking normal person would. No instead Nero has to go “Sorry Nico!” *BIG ASS EXPLOSION*—*cocks next gun arm into slot* .Giving up so many arms to make room for new ones was painful but in some way fun. Although loosing a few certain arms when I didn’t have any copies in stock or in mag was sad. However the convenience of finding them out in the open was nice but story-wise...confusing. Especially with Nero saying “Oh, Nico must’ve left this here!” like *confused noises* how the fuck did she find time to throw arms everywhere!?

SPEAKING OF NICO—THOSE ARRIVAL CUTSCENES JESUS. And well that one Lady one where she sticks her head out to openly put out she’s still dangerous guys. Nico was pretty nice and boy was it weird to find out she was related to Mr. AHHHHHHHH. Like fucking hell, least she doesn’t have a stutter because idk that annoyed me on her dad and she really didn’t deserve to have a painful reminder of a deadbeat dad about her. Glad she DIDN’T CARE ABOUT DADDY because fuck that would’ve been awkward to explain, but glad that wasn’t an issue and she knows about it all.

Okay just a few words to open this paragraph up...The Hat Scene. I am so happy that Dante is still quirky as hell. He made Nico happy so I’m happy too. The hat and scarf is cool but gameplay wise still nervous using.

Not having a DT on Nero was fucking weird but I’m glad we got the new arms to compensate. Kinda weird looking back and thinking for a moment that his DT was kinda a pity DT until someone just had to lop his arm off. Ah well least it got resolved and my boy is a lizard. Speaking of DT’s now Dante and Vergil are both that fucking meme about the two hotdogs in terms of DT. Because now we have Devil Sin Trigger. Pretty neat but honestly I found the cheese mechanic in no time. Buy the gun mod for the DST and just hold down RT/R2 to unleash massive fucking damage.

I just need to scream because my tired ass didn’t realise griffon, shadow, and nightmare for what they truly were and in the back of my head I knew something was up but I just didn’t LISTEN. Honestly when the time came to verse nightmare I was crying the back of my head “please don’t return to your OG form I’m begging you, that shit was too painful” but once again the throwbacks were amazing.

Overall I’m happy with the game but I’m super upset that now I don’t have any more DMC to moogle over and I just hope to god they have DLC. I keep hearing that Bloody Palace will make a return so that’s nice, but I want other playable characters ya know, maybe something to fix that itch for more story. I wouldn’t be out of Itsuno’s power to give the fans what they want considering what Capcom did for him to make this game live. He HAS THE POWER!!!! I’m begging for a Vergil story for either a prequel, or a mini sequel. It would be interesting to hear about how he survived all...the mess? Because I think the last time chronologically we saw him was...Neo Angelo blowing up? God it’s been a while.

It’s late where I am and I’ve come back from work so splurging all of this has given me some relief to all the crazy information I wanna just blab about but I think I’m just coming up dry until I playthrough again. So for now idk what to extend this with but I think I’ve gone nuts with a few things that satisfy me enough for now. I’ll probably fan over it more later on in the tags or whatever.

#dmc5 #dmc5 spoilers #praeuro #prae's thoughts

0 notes

these-empty-spaces-here · 7 years

Text

Sometimes, I like to go and sit at our bench in the park, the one that has huge trees around it that would give us solace from the sun. I like to go and sit and watch the people like we used to do, and I take a bottle of Pepsi and a bottle of Coke and mix them to drink them together, like we used to do, because we were apparently the only people on earth that thought they tasted the same.

We thought we were the only people on earth for a lot of things, I remember. The only people to share a journal back and forth, writing about anything and everything and nothing at all. The only people to have such a hilarious and meaningful story about Toyota 4Runners that we’d text each other when we’d see one. The only people that loved the way we did, fierce and passionate and unconditional. The only people that would come back and sit on this bench and kiss each other to the sounds of birds and passer-bys to celebrate special occasions.

I tilt my head back and watch the trees, and the color of the sun in the leaves reminds me of your eyes, green and bright and warm. I close my eyes. Breathe in. Feel the sunlight. Breathe out. Feel an itch behind my eyes. Breathe in. Cover my eyes with my hand. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

–

My chest still does that thing where it sours up and hurts when I see the things that remind me of you, which, these days, seems like everything. It’s not even important things, anymore. Those are somehow easier to forget. It’s the little things, like how we disagreed on the way the toilet paper roll is supposed to hang. Sometimes I hang it the wrong way just so I can stare at it and remember the petty arguments.

It’s weird. I can’t remember where your dad lives, anymore, but I remember the toilet paper.

–

I go with a friend to watch the sequel to a movie that you loved, though I can’t remember what it was about the characters that made you love them so much. It was a good movie though, and I think that you would have liked it, even though you had some weird thing against sequels.

We meet up with another friend afterwards and go to get dinner, chatting and laughing in the car on the way to dinner and towards my house. They both come in and we watch a few episodes of CSI before they leave.

I watch their 4Runner pull out of my driveway and realize I was in a 4Runner all night and didn’t notice. I wait for the sourness in my chest, but it never comes.

–

I have these dreams where I’m talking to you and you’re talking to me at the same time, but you can’t hear anything I’m saying while I can hear everything. You keep repeating those same words you told me…six? Seven months ago? I don’t remember anymore. But it’s those words.

“I don’t love you anymore. I’m sorry. I don’t love you anymore. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

And me, desperately trying to make you hear me, “You don’t have to apologize. You don’t have to be sorry.”

–

I went to our bench again today, and I wondered if it was still our bench. You probably haven’t been here in months and I’m sure another couple has taken it up as their own. Is it still ours if we don’t exist anymore?

I leaned back to look at the trees and found the sunlight filtering through them like before. I took a deep breath and questioned whether your eyes were bright green or pale green or if they were even green at all.

–

I met someone a few weeks ago and we’ve gone on a handful of dates since. He likes rom-coms, of all things. I never thought I’d find myself watching rom-coms for two movie nights in a row but he doesn’t say anything when I pick horror movies, and I know he hates them, so I don’t say anything about the his odd taste in cinema.

We’re watching The Proposal at his place and I get up to go to the bathroom. He puts the toilet paper in the same way that I do, but he buys the wrong brand. When I bring this up to him later, after the movie, we spend a solid hour debating the finer points of toilet paper softness and quilting.

–

He sleeps over and finds the journal we used to trade back and forth. At first he thinks its my diary and wiggles his eyebrows at me while he holds it up. “And what’s this?” he teases.

I laugh. “Stories,” I tell him, and I feel honest. “They’re just stories an old friend and I wrote.”

We read some of them together. He laughs at my shoddy grammar and compliments my creativity. He comments on the ones that aren’t in my handwriting, too, and then mentions how he and an old friend of his used to do something similar to this, as well.

–

I brought him to a bench today, a different bench; I haven’t been to that other one in what feels like a year, maybe longer, maybe not. This one is in the sun, near the park’s community garden; he thinks its a cute place for picnics and I agree. I pull out the sandwiches I packed and he pulls out the drinks.

I blink at the bottle of Coke he has in one hand and the Pepsi he has in the other. He smiles a crooked smile at me and says, “I wasn’t sure which one you liked more so I brought both.”

I smile back. “I like Pepsi,” I say, reaching for the bottle. “Thanks.”

0 notes