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factual-fantasy · 18 days

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23 asks! Thank you!! :}} 🐶

Guys, please read the FAQ in my pinned posed before sending asks, like the ask button says. You don't have to read them all- just a quick check to see if i have answered your question already and especially to see my stance on requests.

I'm not taking drawing requests at the moment. If I hit an art block and start taking requests, I'll make a post about it and update my pinned post.

Again, please just take a quick glance at the FAQ before sending in your asks. It saves both of us a lot of time. Thank you! <:)

Currently there isn't actually a plot line I'm following- its more of a "day in the life of the neighborhood" kind'a thing.

The main points of interest though is Wally's home being alive and it watches him sleep at night.. this causes Wally to have terrible sleeping problems and anxiety. But no one knows Home is the culprit..

Another point of interest is Julie secretly actually being a huge beast that is simply disguising herself as this pretty little harmless neighbor.. she truly is a nice person and loves her friends, but she has disguised herself to look this way so that people wouldn't be afraid of her. Only Frank knows what she really looks like..

And lastly, Eddie is a real human from our/another world. He was somehow brought here to the neighborhood.. he has no memory of his original life..

Oh wow!! :000 That blue one is so pretty.... 🥺💞💞

@imdonewiththisblogsblog

A BUTTERFLY WITH CLEAR WINGS?? THAT SOO PRETYYYY💞💞💞

@littlelightfish

AAA THANYIOU!! :DDDD

Octo is intended to kind'a have normal old man problems- he's kind'a far sighted, has a cranky back, gets tired easy, gets winded faster than he used to.. other than that and the natural aches and sores that came after his major injury- (that comic you're referencing) he's relatively ok! :00 (Those dizzy spells that I talked about come from when he overworks himself.. normal old man things! <:D)

Seafoam is intended to be the youngest of his siblings, and his eldest sister was a rotten egg that had kids way too young.. and her kids were ALSO rotten eggs that had THEIR kids way too young. One of those kids being Red. So because of the age gap between him and his sister, and both generations having kids at like 20 years old... Seafoam is 55-65 and Red, his great nephew, is like 4-6...

Spider crab tends to not interact a whole lot with Pinwheel and Tuna, since they are a little too high energy and loud for him. 😅 But Coco and Red are nice company. :)

Spider does worry about the crewmembers that are missing limbs or eyes.. he does his best to offer help without overstepping. Sometimes those things are sensitive to talk about.. Also Spider sure looks old, but I pictured him being somewhere in his late 30s. Stress will add a lot of age to your face... 😅

I can see Spider crab, Louis and Tuna spending the most time in the kitchen just to be around Ellie. Although if one of them comes for a visit and one of the other 2 is already there, they probably wont stick around long. <XD Spider doesn't like Louis or Tuna's noise and Tuna like's to be alone with Ellie to talk peacefully.. As to who cooks when she cant... I can see the crew eating things that don't need to be cooked until she gets better. Pre-baked bread, easy sandwiches, etc- in an emergency though I can see the crew catching fish and Louis cooking them for the crew :))

Red might have nightmares yeah.. although his family were pretty rotten so this new crew is actually rather nice.. also Coco is his favorite playmate :))

AAA THANKYIUU!! :DDD IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE URCHINS DESIGN!! :)))) Unfortunately though, I haven't thought out her backstory too much..

I'm thinking she met Cuttlefish the same time the rest of the crew did. As for what made them friends, I kind'a like the idea that Urchin can see right through Cuttle's facade. She's not used to having someone see through all her lies, see the REAL her.. and still want to be her friend. Its nice.. 🥺

and finally WAARRHGHH THANKD FOR THIS ASK! :DDD MY HEART IS FULL OF JOY READING YOUR INTEREST IN KY OCS!!! :))))

Honestly? I have absolutely no idea XD 💀💀 All I know is Poppy is the oldest and Sally is the youngest. Sally is probably around 18-20--

@spirited-splashes

WWAHGGG THABK YOU SO MUCH!! :DD ITS MY FAVORITE THING TO DRAW!! :}}}}}

@legitanawkwardmess

ALKDKJENFKJEN THATS HILARIOUS XDDDD

I haven't decided what the neighbors reactions would be since I have no plans for Julie to reveal herself.. though even if she did, I have a feeling she would want to maintain her smaller form. Even if it takes more energy..

To Julie, this body represents who she really is. Who she really wants to be. This is how she want's the world to see her. Even if the truth got out and everyone accepted her. She'd stay in her smaller form anyways..

@i-only-created-this-to-read

So far I don't have intentions for there to have been any tenants before Wally.. or at least no one will ever find out who they were or what happened to them.

As for how old Home is, I haven't decided this and its also a complete mystery to the neighbors. Poppy has lived there ever since she was a child and Home was already there when she moved in..

Now Home could get creative and find different ways to harm or even kill those it doesn't like.. but thankfully Home doesn't have any intentions to hurt anyone, especially not Wally. Home wouldn't even try to significantly hurt Barnaby, despite him getting in the way of Homes plans.. although Home cant resist the occasional stubbed toe or splinter out of frustration...

As for adding stuff to Home's body.. if Wally purposefully slapped a strip of duct tape on the wall, that wouldn't really become a part of Homes body. Things only really attach to Home if they are significant.

Examples being a new shelf. An added wall to split a room, cutting a hole in the wall and installing a window, ripping up carpet and installing hardwood floors, etc. The nail holding up a picture frame or that nail gun plugged into the wall are not apart of Home..

Though that's not to say Home cant control the outlets, it can! But that would only give Home the power to turn the nail gun on and off. Home cant make the gun fire..

As for plants, even if they engulf Home and grow in-between the floorboards, Home cannot control plants.. or if there was moss or some kind of fungus growing on the walls? If it ate away at the wood that plank would just die off and Home couldn't feel/control it anymore..

Lastly, Home being able to move things quickly is kind'a what you would imagine. Home moves them as fast as that object can reasonably move. How fast do you think you could slam a door? How fast do you think the window would slam down shut if you gave it all your might?

I hope I cleared up these questions! :00 And sorry if I accidentally missed one or two! <:D

OUUGHH I LOVE THIS!! ITS MAKING ME WANT TO DRAW THE COMIC AGAIN XDDDD

No worries! :DD

@soulful-rodent

On desktop the limit appears to be 100, I'll see what I can do! 😅Also thank you! :))

AW! :DDD I'm glad they like it! But yeah absolutely keep it to the light stuff-- my Octonauts art has a surprising amount of blood in it for a kids show 💀

(Referencing this post)

I might just be! XD🪄✨✨✨Also thank you!! :)))

@captain-skyler1987

Oof... welcome back? <:D ... sorry-

Awe! I'm glad to hear you liked my Gravity Falls stuff!! :DDD Thank you so much!! :))

@jayemover-16

Oh no no! :0 reblogging is a feature of Tumblr and is not reposting! :))

My idea is that Wally only really has sleepovers with Barnaby. He would have sleep overs with Howdy too, but that Pillar's on a pretty tight sleeping schedule/routine <XD

Now Barnaby has noticed that Wally sleeps better when he crashes at his place. Because of this he has started offering his house as a getaway for Wally when ever he notices he seems a little extra tired..

Something to note; neither Barnaby nor Wally think something is wrong with Wally's house because of this- they're just starting to think that Wally's anxiety is worse when he's alone..

Also thank you so much!! :DDDD

@wolfie-777

I don't think much would change to be honest.. they'd still be the same old Wally and Barnaby even after a species swap!

This was sent right after I commented that I'm still open to Welcome Home suggestions. Are these Welcome Home AUs..? <:0 I am unfamiliar with them..

Oof, went back and fixed it. I tend to type too fast and get slime and smile mixed up. 😅

It can be a little embarrassing when people point out my typos, mostly because every single typo I make is pointed out every single time without fail.😅💀 But no worries, I know you meant no harm-

#my response #tw bugs #butterflies #welcome home #ingo and emmet #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run ocs #my ocs #tw descriptions of injuries

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ang3lthoughts · 6 months

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Warning: underage smoking, 15!chuuya, Chuuya is a stupid loser in love, reader and Chuuya are VERY a tiiiiny bit emo/scene. Dazai and Chuuya are roomies!!! Shotgunning, Chuuya and reader do kiss a little O,o

Do‼️not‼️smoke‼️nor‼️drink‼️unless‼️you‼️are‼️the‼️legal‼️age‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ I cannot stress that enough!!!! This is pure fiction. Not real at all. Smoking kills!! Not cool!! (Is it working guys am I the next DARE)

Reqs open btw!!! :3

🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎

Chuuya didn’t know how long he had been looking in the mirror for. He wanted to make sure his eyeliner was perfectly smudged, his hair was perfectly messy, and his room was fit to match your liking. Posters were hung all over his wall, his laundry was (mostly) neatly put in a basket minus the few shirts and pants that were scattered around. His Millionares, My Chemical Romance and Pierce the Veil cds were “coincidentally” the ones on display because he knows you like them.

A knock on his bedroom door made him stop dead in his tracks. Were you here? He rushed to the door excitedly like a puppy when its owner comes home. “He- oh ew it’s just you.” Unfortunately, it wasn’t the one he expected, but his stupid roommate Dazai. “Were you expecting someone else, Chuuya~?” He flashed Chuuya a grin “it’s none of your business, brace face. What do you want?” “Not too much about my braces, pepperoni pizza. Have you seen my nail polish? You were the last one to use it” “I put it in the bathroom you idiot”

“Oh! Chuuya! Hey!” before their banter could grow further, a head popped out from behind the wall “[name]. Hi.” His voice was breathy. “Wait. How’d you get in here without keys?” Dazai questioned, peeking behind Chuuya to make eye contact with you “oh! The door was wide open.” “Fuck!” The brown haired man rushed down the stairs. “Cool bandages!” You yelled from afar.

Chuuya closed the door and put on music. You immediately recognized the song and hummed along, swaying while idly sitting criss-cross on his bed. “So… what’s in the bag?” The boy questioned. You grinned at him and shoved your hand in the bag making an annoying crinkling noise “I’m so glad you asked!” You pulled out a box of splat hair dye and a baggie of pre-rolled weed.

“Which one d’ya wanna do first?”

🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎

“Okay. First I gotta light it. Then you put it to your lips and inhale. Juuust like a cigarette. ”

It was embarrassing for the the male to admit to his crush that he had never gotten high. Of course he had smoked before, but only nicotine-infused products. not anything that would get him too fucked up. Luckily, you didn’t tease him about it like a certain suicidal maniac would. If anything, you seemed excited to show him the ropes. “Cigarettes are just the less fun version of joints. When you smoke it so often the headrush just wares off and it’s no fun anymore” your rambling fell to deaf ears because all he could focus on was you. Your plump lips, adorned with piercings, the worn-out skunk stripes matched his freshly done ones from the previous activities together, your black-painted nails went with the black stained tips of your fingers from the hair dye... He could spend every hour studying everything about you.

He finally snapped out of his trance when you lit the plant. “Open your mouth for me, chuu.” what? You had just explained how it was like a cigarette, so why did you want him to open his mouth? He complied anyway and made eye contact with you as you took a looong drag. Grabbing his face, you exhaled smoke into his mouth and he immediately inhaled all the smoke you gave him. His cheeks blossomed into a fiery red from how intimate the moment was. The eye contact between the two teens in love was a gaze as intense as the piercing rays of the sun.

Oh my god. holy shit. That was so fucking hot. Oh my god. is she gonna pull away? His head was racing. You gave him a toothy grin and put the joint right up to his lips, not daring to pull away. He inhaled the weed. a harsh taste hit his mouth immediately. He shakily exhaled and you leaned in, capturing his lips in a kiss. He wrapped his arms around your lower back as you crawled ontop of him. Pulling away as a string of saliva clung onto the both of your mouths, you exhaled the smoke that was previously in chuuyas mouth.

Mind clouded with lust and the high hitting him at the same time had his whole world spinning. You sat up, straddling his waist and taking a hit. “You feeling it yet, baby?” You exhaled. He giggled drowsily and nodded “Cmere. Wanna kiss you again.” He pushed your back down so your lips could touch again.

🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎

GRRRR I LOVE CHUUYA. LOBE LOBE LOBE HIM.

Reqs open btw!!! :3

#bsd x reader #chuuya nakahara #chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya #chuuya x y/n #chuuya x you #i love him your honor #emo Chuuya for the win #angels secrets!🍎

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hallucinateonpaperspines · 5 months

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How do you think cybertronian society would react (pre war) to ashlyn like unleashed on their planet, because personally I think that would be hilarious and also terrifying. Do I ask this mainly because the thought of young D-16 and either current story Ashlyn or pre story Ashlyn interacting is both terrifying and interesting? Yes.

Honestly, it could go so many different ways, *evil cackle*

Speaking of the new movie, is everybody else hyped? CAUSE I AM SO EXCITED! FINALLY, we are getting a fun animated Transformers film ヾ(*´ ∇ `)ﾉ

I saw that cross-eye megatron reference from Bumblebee, tfp anyone?

ᕕ(⌐■_■)ᕗ ♪♬

ehem, happy dance aside, here's what I think a Golden Age Ashlyn would have been like...

Presuming that she fell into this situation as a Human things get awkward very quickly. Organics aren't very well received on Cybertron nevermind how their products are luxury goods apparently

Running through the streets, ducking under vendor stalls, and darting between peds like a literal street rat, Ashlyn is very very confused on what the utter frag happened to her.

Unfortunately, as an organic alien lifeform, especially as one that is currently undiscovered, she is VERY distinctive. Her small size helps her a bit with sneaking, but eventually, it becomes common knowledge that a weird creature is hanging around. It doesn't help that her need for breathable air severely restricts potential roaming areas, and only a handful of stores/merchants carry edible food items.

Already making a name for herself as a pest... in a surprisingly literal sense.

When she's eventually spotted and caught by a Cybe with particularly good reflexes, Ash is forced to come up with something fast so she doesn't get squished. By now, you all know where her self-defense tendencies tend to point to.

On the plus side, the twerp survived. On the negative, he's going to need a new servo since the wiring that articulates his digits is beyond saving. Also, a small feral organic that goes for joints is apparently entertainment enough for these people. Welcome to the mini and illegal gladiator battles, Ashlyn! The unregulated leagues for those who can't afford to go watch the real thing.

Look at her go, gaining all the XP fighting alien bugs and other mini-bosses.

Of course, 3 things occurred during this time period. 1) Ashlyn is actually picking up on Neocybex and proving surprisingly adept at it. 2) She's starting to gain a legitimate reputation and doing Humans Are Space Orcs proud via creative/brutal takedowns of her opponents, and biological features that can be terrifying to an alien. 3) Someone in Iacon has quietly been looking for a creature resembling her specifications, but due to the fact that Ashlyn is in Kaon and an asset of an illegal fighting ring, she is unidentifiable.

Of course when Ashlyn finally gains enough of an affinity for Neocybex, (with a very thick kaon accent) she wants to wait to reveal her sentience until it's at a point where she can't be knocked off or ignored. That plan does not last. No.

Because Ashlyn Moore, covered in robot gore, looks up one day to see a very familiar outline.

"ɎØɄ"

D-16, for his part, is very confused as to why the little alien just looked at him and started chittering like a sparkling while shaking.

The crowd is in an uproar.

See humans do look very similar in structure to a basic Cybertronain model. Even more so when you compare it to a sparkling model which is squishy. eh, Unicron connection?

The point is, an unidentified, kinda sparkling-ish thing, that sounds like sparkling, has also just fulfilled one of the oldest Sparkling-Guardian rituals of choosing an adult to protect them. Look at ze adult, go to ze adult, don't let ze adult leave without you.

Ashlyn might not have had such... noble intentions when she launched herself at D-16 while rambling, but such is the beauty of cultural miscommunications. And dehydration and malnourishment. And an almost chronically activated stress response. You get situations like these!

"ɎØɄ!-ĐłĐ…₮₳₭Ɇ ₴Ø₥Ɇ ⱤɆ₴₱Ø₦₴ł฿łⱠł₮Ɏ! …-₣Ɽ₳₲ł₦₲ ฿Ʉ₲₴ ł'VɆ ₭łⱠⱠɆĐ?"

Ashlyn is only half understandable in this state, but it's fine. D-16, and soon all of Kaon understands perfectly.

A scrappy deformed sparkling, likely originating from an unidentified hot spot, beat the odds and has chosen an ex-miner and soon full-time gladiator to be her sire/mentor. What a spark-warming story.

Oh yeah, and someone in Iacon is still hunting that human.

The end result would probably culminate in an overly suspicious Ashlyn accidentally causing a chain reaction that would lead to a Decepticon Orion Pax, a proper coup of the High Council, probably Emperor of Destruction Starscream, and Big Villian Shockwave. The Autobots would not exist. Does anyone want to try and theorize why?

D-16 would realize pretty quick that this tiny bundle of chaos isn't an actual sparkling, but it's an argument he'd use to keep her should any outside influences try and take Ashlyn away. Why? Because a highly intelligent and vicious mystery just dropped into his lap, and someone on the Council wants it really badly. That's more than enough of a justification.

Now, if only he could find out why the organic hates him so much... and why she's so valuable.

Now Ashlyn as a bot would be VERRRRRY different.

Same as the first, she pops up in Kaon (may or may not be a narrative reason for that (・ω<) )

Unlike the human version, the poor girl is caught almost immediately.

Turns out, stumbling around a foreign area, being unable to speak the language, and lacking identification doesn't get you the best treatment. Unfortunately, her more bestial-looking design doesn't help much either in a Functionist society.

Actually, the Enforcers processing her are pretty confused by it, the wings and taloned servos say Seeker, but the spines and fanged denta hint at something else completely... and the subject refuses, or is unable to, transform into an altmode...

Oh well, can't put it in a category, and then toss it out.

Flagging the weirdness for the bosses to deal with, the anomaly is sent to the mines, and a record containing her image and newly given designation is sent to the higher offices. YN-013 is soon forgotten.

Ashlyn, by the time she figures out written translations for Neocybex, finds the designation hilarious. Her fellow miners don't understand why she giggles when she introduces herself.

The mines are horrible, that much is undeniable, but at the same time, Ashlyn can't help but feel like it should be worse?

Her form proves adept at collecting energon, her claws far more efficient than the half-rusted pick-axe she's handed every day. The energon is easy to find too, almost like there's a sixth sense in her brain for where those shards are hiding.

She doesn't realize that the tunnels she's stationed in quickly gain a reputation for being more productive. That her peers end their days not quite as run down anymore. That miners switch shifts and bribe to be in the same branch of tunnels. She's quickly become an omen of good luck and temporary revival.

Ashlyn also doesn't realize that someone in Iacon is tearing through every rumor on Cyberton looking for her... or the organic her.

D-16 hears rumors about the newest unfortunate spark that's been sent to join them in the dark, but he doesn't believe it. Not until he sees it.

There is something about this individual that's different, maybe the stories are true. Solus reforged, perhaps? The missing Thirteenth? Or is this a new prime, come to save them and bring Cybertron back to its glory.

Ashlyn for her part is vibing collecting pretty rocks, and would prefer the future genocidal maniac to stay far away from her, please.

The not-yet-future-genocidal-maniac does not leave. Instead, he talks.

D-16 is actually the one that teaches her proper Neocybex, not the fragmented version she's been getting by with. In return, she tells him what the surface was like for the brief bit of time she was there.

Over time, the strange happenings around YA-013 are normalized and forgotten, but not by D-16. He knows she is not just some wild-forged thing that had the bad to stumble into the wrong city-state. He knows that she can't just be some bestial new-forged, because her optics are far too aware, too knowing. She hesitates, as though shuffling through information when she speaks. The alien babble she talks to herself in, while basic, is too natural to be anything but a primary language. Her smiles are sad even if the laughter is easy. She says things, and calls him Bucket Head, and Mega-arse.

She already knows who his favorite Prime is.

YN-013 never comments when he explains his plans to become a gladiator and gain his freedom. But he can feel the judgment. The resignation. Like she already knew. "Forget about me when you become one of the most famous bots to walk on Cybertron, yeah? Little old me will be nothing compared to the masses that'll scream your name."

YN-013 never talked about her own future, not in a way that sounds lasting. "I'd like to sightsee while I can. Never know when city walls will go tumbling down."

Megatronus doesn't forget her. Not in the Pits as he battles against foes and realizes how much healthier his frame is compared to his opponents, how much stronger, despite them all feeding off the same scraps. He doesn't forget as he meets an Archivist and hears all the snide jokes about his type being "boys in red and blue. Sweet nerds that take forever to commit to ending you."

Orion Pax, quickly becomes a close friend. Megatron never comments on his paint job. He's yet to see Pax exhibit anything but an agreeable and slightly excitable disposition... but he can't help but hold back even as he chides his own superstition.

"I don't think you'll have much luck in the friend department, Bucket. "

Why had he never gone back for her? Why had she never joined him in the arena?

"That's your origin story, D, and I'd hate to incinerate your undefeated record."

Megatron doesn't forget the stranger hidden in the mines. Not when he meets Orion's mentor, not when he stands before the Council, not as every veiled barb, sorrowful mutter, or hidden revelation comes true.

Even when he goes back for her and finds her gone, the Warlord never forgets the seer of the mines.

YN-013 had never realized, that just as D-16 had taught her a language, so too had she taught him hers. Every private word, every thoughtless exclamation, he remembered.

No, that unfortunate spark in the mines was not a wild-forged femme with bad luck. She was not a prime, remade, or replace. She was something different. A puzzle, a friend, an asset.

Lord Megatron, leader of the Decepticons, never forgot.

So how strange was it, to find a planet that spoke that same tongue?

The Autobots seek a relic and the Decepticons search for a seer. Optimus inherits a charge that can only be fulfilled through a missing person and Megatron wants closure to the fate and identity of someone he might've considered a friend.

Ashlyn struggles with guilt over choosing to not change the timeline and has been hiding on Earth since the last few centuries of the war. She's spawned more than a few stories in her wanderings, triggered some changes she never realized. A shifter who went rogue after a drunken conversation at a bar and never swore his loyalty. Bartering fuel with an Autobot vessel, allowing the Ark to avoid Decepticon Scouts and remain unharmed. A Prime who learned the truth about his predecessors early, and resolved to do more than simply restore his planet to what it used to be.

Ashlyn can't hide from the plot forever. War or not, things have changed, and now she's part of that story.

#ao3 author #ao3 #tfp #aligned continuity #transformers prime #of timelines and trolleys #ashlyn moore (oc)#D-16 #Megatron tfp #what if #hope you enjoy!#also hope the rambles made sense

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coffeegnomee · 3 months

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Training my brain to learn that caring about something does not mean someone will die and it will all be lost.

Cw - death, OCD, mcyt death, dsmp and lifesteal, triggers

This is, obviously, something super personal. But sharing about it is what scares me, so I’m going to do it anyway and prove to my brain that it’s okay to care.

If you end up reading it, know you just read my heart. I hope it helps you process whatever you’re dealing with <3.

I looked up OCD tonight because my brain constantly cycles through the same thoughts and worries about Lifesteal like Non Stop. Like I know I’m ADHD but this isn’t just a fixation on this server, but like debilitating spirals of thought. And all focused around analyzing if it’s all going to fall apart or not.

They say ocd is a “limbic system impairment that occurs when someone experiences a traumatic physical or emotional event while their chronic stress load is already high.”

And that freaking resonated. They say exposure therapy can rewire the brain so let’s go explore what’s the event that’s keeping me spiraling.

My chronic stress load was extremely high that summer two years ago. And then Technoblade died. The longer it’s been the more I really sit with the fact that that was traumatic.

On top of the stress personally, now my favorite YouTuber, my comfort character on dsmp, the freaking anchor of that server, was just gone. Gone.

Dreamsmp came in a time of some pretty heavy depression. Obviously the pandemic was still occurring so that’s a chronic stress load itself (I found it January 16th 2021, so like, three days before the disc finale, but almost a year into covid) and watching through all the streams I was able to completely escape.

For the first time in months I was laughing. Like deep belly laughs. Full body. Actual joy. The neural rewiring my brain those first months was insane. It was pure serotonin.

I became motivated to work again, having something fun in the background. I looked forward to cherishing the lore, keeping those streams to the side for the evenings when I could really immerse myself into the story.

There’s a two-fold trigger that sends me into a spiral around loosing the thing that makes me happy. Unfortunately at the time, the things causing the chronic stress in my life stemmed from the things that used to bring me fulfillment and joy and purpose. They were being taken away, by my own choice, and from my health (more on that later).

So in the void of having my real-life anchors to bring fulfillment, dreamsmp was the thing keeping this whole body going. Truly a hanging on by a thread moment.

But even then, it’s not just about "loosing the thing that makes me happy" that causes these obsessive thoughts.

It’s the irrational connection that because the lore changed and the dynamic of the server stalled, that THAT therefore somehow that lead to Techno dying. (yes. An irrational and non related thought. I just realized with writing that that I have truly merged both those events so closely that when the first happens, I cannot let go of the idea of the second. I’m sitting here expecting someone to irl die.)

Huh. That’s interesting.

It’s like, I read this from some random instagram post years ago. This woman’s husband died on a sunny day and then years later sunny days fill her with dread as if the weather was signaling that she would come home to the death of a loved on.

That’s what’s going on in my noggin.

Because it’s Quackity’s lore that changed the fabric of the dreamsmp. It didn’t have to, but it did. It came at the perfect storm when everyone was super burnt out and needed to run away from the insanity of both the fans and the haters and the sudden massive fame.

He decided to do pre-recorded movies. On my live-stream smp. The very fabric of lore was changed.

And because of the larger production, it took longer, and the other members of the server seemed to not know where to take their personal lore; everyone was waiting for that damn casino to open. And since all the lore ended up happening in pre-recordings we never again experienced that magic of live stream entertainment and improv and dumb bits. Everything was sanitized. For their own sanity, sure. But at the expense of the survival of the server. (Also Techno wasn’t available because of the chemo, so truly nothing was happening on any end of the server)

That perfect storm, loosing interest in the server and the lore being fundamentally changed, set the stage for the traumatic moment of loosing a member. That's my two-fold trigger.

And his death sealed the deal. I’ve never held it against them for not wanting to continue after. Season 2 was impossible the moment that happened.

My chronic stress had exploded so far that my thyroid was fucked and I’m diagnosed with Hashimoto’s, an autoimmune disease that keeps me fatigued more often than not. Besides that, my other main chronic stress was a realization that the Future I had always expected myself to take, the Plan that I had set out, I was suddenly extremely Not Sure I wanted to do anymore.

But I had confidently told my friends and family for over 8 years that this is what I wanted (all this during college and after. I was already 26 at this time) (yes I’m old) (yes life is still crazy when you’re old) (but you start understanding yourself better). It was in this understanding of myself that I realized my direction needed to change.

Suddenly my whole identity I had built for myself was swept out from under me.

At that. same. dang. time. That same week. That’s when the news broke. Literally broke me to pieces.

And I hadn’t told anyone I was obsessed with Minecraft lore. Like bro. I’m out of college for a few years. Get a life. (But man. My eyes just light up when I think about this method of story telling. It’s just goated)

My mom sort of knew. She didn’t understand but at least I could tell her someone died and she had some sort of connection that I had been following this kid for over a year now.

But no one else. The sorrow and pain of loss is just so much worse when you can’t explain why you cared about someone so much. It’s not like my parent died. Or sibling. It was a kid I had never met in person but I resonated with so much.

And I remember distinctly thinking “It’s not worth not sharing the things you care about with other people”. Burned into my brain that day.

But time heals all wounds. Until something triggers it.

I spent the next year just following Foolish, that ray of sunshine who was involved enough to have become my comfort streamer, but not too involved that it was painful to watch because of the memories.

It was a crazy fun year. Best comfort streamer. But people change, I change, and I missed Minecraft lore. You can only watch so much valorant before it’s just the same game.

Foolish found out he was on QSMP (I think it actually was before, I think he knew about the server before it was announced) and he started looking at Minecraft content and Minecraft builds again. For the first time in over a year. It was such a random day.

But we watched Sandiction and… Rekrap2.

Both of them stole my heart and I went, maybe it’s time to return to mcyt. See what’s been brewing.

And before I knew it I was on a month-long binge of Lifesteal content and just so absolutely lost as to what order everything came out in or what season everything was from. Shoutout them being allergic to click baiting “Lifesteal” or adding season tags to the description. It’s such a mess on Youtube lol.

Soon enough I found Baconnwaffles1. Not 0. 1. Somehow found his second channel first.

The videos caught my eye. I knew they were streams and I was trying to find the vods, but as you know Bacon doesn’t have a vods channel and his streams delete after 14 days.

But then finally the fated video crossed my path: “This is PrinceZam and he just betrayed his teammates”

Oh my goddess what in the world is going on in this server.

I needed to know.

So began the true binge. Found Zam’s vods, watched season 4. And I discovered something amazing.

I have genuinely never resonated more with a character than I resonated with Zam season 4.

Every internal debate of Zam resonated with my own dilemmas. People pleasing and understanding what you value came to a head, and only one could win. But truly your values are the only real option because every moment of people pleasing will rub against your soul like hot coals.

Remember those chronic stressors? The life I didn’t know if I wanted anymore?

As Zam walked between conversations with friends, teammates, and enemies, I recognized similar conversations in my life.

I could describe the situation one way, and the person would agree and give advice. But then I realized I could describe the situation in a different light and then maybe they wouldn’t agree anymore. So I didn’t know what advice to take.

And then chat was so funny. The day before the wormhole they started giving too many opinions, the same opinions they had been giving for weeks, and in a flash I was like, omg he’s going to spiral again guys why are you like this.

And then he was like, OMG chat, YOU’RE the problem! There’s too many of you and I’m trying to make everyone happy.

If I tell you I jumped up, screamed, giggled, and floundered around like a crazy person it wouldn’t even come close to what happened. I was so proud of Zam for realizing his emotions were being swayed by the barest opposition. From that third person point of view, I could so clearly see what was going wrong and I was cheering him on to realizing what he truly wanted.

I did, and still do, see so many of the decision making problems that Zam has, within myself. As a piece of media, and him being a character, it’s the craziest most relatable story I have ever seen. I’ve never resonated with a character more.

Then we reached season 5.

The first season I truly watched as it came out. I had gotten too obsessed with this Minecraft world. I wanted more. I loved these kids and their storytelling.

But it was the first season when people started leaving the server on good terms.

Oh no. This sounds too familiar. People are loosing interest in the server I love. What’s next, a change in the fabric of how lore is created?

Then there was a change in the fabric of how the lore was created.

We saw the new members approach the server with a recording-mindset. Who weaponized the lore against the old server members. Pretending they cared about the yapping but then revealing that in itself was a complete and total lie used to get you into the perfect position to either spoil the whole riddle or shoot you with an arrow canon.

And then. Not. Care. At. All. Zero remorse.

I don’t know why the betrayals by Jumper hurt so badly. But it hurt. A lot. (I was triggered that’s why) My emotional reaction was out of proportion to reality.

It’s not like it wasn’t a Lifesteal move, people had gotten into position to betray in the past, and would continue to do so in the future with Leo and Clown betraying Minute.

But it was that “I have no remorse over the hours we spent as a team, not a single thread of care to you or to the yapping lore of this server”. It’s one thing to be betrayed by an enemy. Quite another to be betrayed by a friend.

So here I began. Triggered by something that wasn’t world ending. Quackity’s take on lore didn’t kill the server. Neither did Jumper’s. It was probably going to be fine.

But like. My brain is not agreeing. So I’m pushing back on it.

Here’s what I’m finding.

This is a fun tidbit - when Mapic said “streams are delayed” when he was in the hospital before the finale I could not convince myself that he didn’t had cancer and wasn’t going to die. Bro. Tell me you’re triggered without telling me you’re triggered. (In case you didn’t see, it was just a concussion)

I’m so hyper aware of everything that could indicate I’m going to loose someone I care about again.

The pattern recognition is going out of control.

And I keep trying to calm my brain down and catalogue all the reasons I know and believe Lifesteal will be perfectly fine for probably a while. Like how they have meetings all the time to discuss what went down on the server. They’re talking all the time to work out interpersonal problems and lore problems so that everyone is happy and feels heard. And they’re watching movies together. Meeting up and strengthening relationships. Changing admins as necessary.

And I say it again.

And again.

Every time something throws the smallest pebble at stability I walk my brain back through all the indicators that everything will be fine.

Jumper:

Jumper loves being on the server. She’s said it. She’s so excited about it. She did have a plan. She didn’t tell us the plan as it went, but she does stream. She’s getting comfortable with the idea of streaming, she’ll learn to trust chat over time. She’ll learn how to loose gracefully on this server at some point. Probably. hopefully. And since I don’t know when that will be I’ll just have to wait until season 6 and see what happens. It’s out of my control. She’s fine. It’ll be fine.

Pentar:

Pentar is fine. He doesn’t understand why chat would tell him he’s the most likely to betray even though every video he betrays. Why is he doing that that’s so weird. But he’s a great teammate and everyone likes having him around. I don’t like how he laughs at Zam, but like I can give him the benefit of the doubt that he just doesn’t take anything seriously and laughs in the face of anything serious. I’ll have to wait and see until next time to see how I feel about what he does on the server. Real life can’t be repeated over and over so just let it go. It’ll be fine.

Minute:

Minute is just so happy to be in Lifesteal. He loves it so much. You can tell by how he speaks every time there’s a group moment. He’s going to be admin next season. He loves this server. He may be overly attached to the Rules and have black and white thinking and he sometimes wields that for his own gain and I hate when he does that can he just have fun and take things less seriously? But I think he’ll get it. He’s competent. And he loves the server. He wouldn’t destroy it even on accident because someone would call him out before that happens. It’s going to be fine.

Ash:

Ash can be mean and also not care about the good that our side is doing and just wave them away saying they’re just evil. He does’t get it. But also he’s quite the actor. He puts on a lore face when he logs on, you can see it in season 4 with the wormhole. You can see it when he logs on for the justice league returns and he’s so committed to being good and fighting evil and as Zam is killing Mid in the background and he’s all shocked as if he was not the one who goaded Zam into killing her moments before. It’s a character. Even when it feels like it shouldn’t be. He does take random events in stride, pulling up the meditation guidance video when they all got killed. He’s stressed out by it, but also takes it with some levity. He’ll be fine. He just chose a questionable character to act this season and didn’t know how to balance his position as admin separate from his need to win. But he’ll be fine.

Can you see how this is exhausting? This is my brain on the daily.

Every day I find myself working through each person one after another as something small comes up to threaten the balance, or reinforce the good.

This is when I noticed this wasn’t simple excitement about the lore, thinking and guessing about what might happen. It was the same thoughts over and over and over. And I couldn’t stop a line of thought until I mentioned all the things. That’s what made me look up ocd.

But back to it, I’m actually so much more okay with Ash because it’s been a couple seasons with him. I’m starting to see his tells. So I can just let the rough parts slide away.

And that’s really what I just have to accept. That I can’t self soothe my way into being okay. Resisting acknowledging what I’m afraid of is just making me spiral more.

We’ve seen people choose to leave after stressful seasons. We know some people become aware that they aren’t cut out for Lifesteal. Or they just don’t want to be. Some of these members might decide that. And Lifesteal has continued despite members leaving.

OMg can I please stop cataloging how it will be fine?

I have to sit with the reality and realize nothing bad DID happen, NOT that nothing bad MIGHT happen.

(This is unironically so counterintuitive to my brain. What do you mean I have to just accept that nothing bad happened, what if something bad does happen!) (But that’s what anxiety looks like. That’s not a good)

How do you convince yourself that you can’t predict the future? Asking for a friend.

I think it goes back to caring. I don’t think I’m allowed to care about any of this. That it’s silly, or dumb, or immature.

It was, in fact, in caring itself that the loss of Techno was so painful.

So I don’t allow myself to care. To get too invested. Any time I see that I’m caring I push up on the walls of my trenches and shove that shit out. Only analytical thoughts in here. Measurable, quote-filled analyses.

But caring does not therefore mean there will be a loss.

So. Okay. Pivot. What am I really afraid of?

I’m afraid the server will end. That something will make Zam give up and leave.

Wow. I thought that was going to be a long ass paragraph but it really is just that. I know I’ll stop watching lifesteal if Zam is gone. Unless someone new comes in that has his same spark and dedication. Unlikely.

So that threat is the worst.

And I’ve seen his interest wax and wane. I know he can disappear for a month.

But I also know he can come back. And he’s been a lot more mature and healthy and confident in being the streamer of Lifesteal. In how much he loves the server.

Which is where pb&j being such a threat to the fabric of how lore is done is so scary, because that changes Zam’s care. But then again. It really didn’t. He just pivots.

One of the most healing things has been watching the old members leave and continue to make content. And seeing how they choose to make their exit. They honored the server and the time they were there, in Rek’s case uplifting Lifesteal.net, in Parrot’s in completely reediting all his footage into a cohesive story.

And then they still make content together. All the members make content with each other outside of Lifesteal. (And those that left the internet forever, that was okay too)

So that’s nice. Some bad things came to pass, and they've shown their response to it. Also Zam taking a break didn’t change how the lore was created, so that wouldn’t be a trigger.

The trigger from that fear would be if he did leave, my brain would go into high gear looking for who was going to die. And I would have a new post to write lol.

The trigger that is still tilting me is that pb&j changed how the lore was made, and my brain went *danger* *danger* This is something that happened last time and you know how that turned out! Start looking for who is going to die!

And it stopped me from seeing how this is not the same situation. The pattern for a death that I think I’m seeing, is not a pattern.

And sitting with how nothing DID go wrong, that fear did not come to pass, is exposure therapy.

Because nothing went catastrophically wrong with the season 5 finale. I just keep closing my eyes, sitting in the problematic lore, and not accepting what actually happened at the end of the season, and freaking out that disaster is coming.

So what happened?

Season 5, you tried to kill my server.

But The server resisted. (Hahahah undertale reference!)

Clown came back. Ro came back. Branzy betrayed everyone for Clown. Bacon and Zam sat in vc the entire finale fight. Mapicc fought until he couldn’t.

Spepticle gave his account then fought for it back. Pangi gave his account. Spoke gave his account. Red did the blessings/curses as Zam wanted. 4C said he was glad to give Minute the presidency because he knew Minute wanted peace and he knew peace was not an option in Lifesteal. Actually the quietest of goats. Didn’t realize he thought that deeply about the server.

And it meant so much that Clownpierce, who hasn’t been meaningfully involved since the season 3 finale, came back and fought for his server. He made Lifesteal season 2. It’s always been his domain and he fought for its soul.

That’s the season 5 finale.

The Players fought for Lifesteal. The server resisted destruction.

This chapter is closed. This season got it’s ending. And it’s “not like last time” like my brain keeps thinking.

The season might have ended with a lot of unknowns for how it will affect season 6. Will these old members still care? Will pb&j be a menace still?

But what happened was a moment where everyone came together to care about the server. And that means the anxiety was unfounded. If something happens like this again, I have an example where everything didn’t fall apart to counter my fear that it will.

See you around!

If you actually read to the end you’re amazing. Hopefully this is something you can do in your life to help understand what is the cause of your pain and anxiety. I wasn’t going to post it initially, but working it out as a post I could theoretically show to other people helped make it way more real than trying to work it out in my head, talking to myself. I had to write it in such a way that someone else would understand. Even if I didn’t post it.

I’ll probably have many more days of writing when I notice a new trigger. Exposure therapy isn’t a one and done. (I probably won’t post any of those.)

But my body feels so much more relaxed now. Something has shifted in my head as a result of writing this all down.

Good luck!

#lifesteal smp #dream smp #technoblade #OCD #mental health

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recitedemise · 7 months

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MODERN VERSE. (the number of worlds as infinite are as the cosmos.) Gale Dekarios, hailing from Waterdeep (or England, all Greek heritage if it's rooted in reality), is a professor with a doctorate in illusionary magics (or, if magic isn't real, then astrophysics) in the University of Baldur's Gate (or Berkeley). He's incredibly decorated, a prodigy in his field turned a credited pillar in the realm of academia. Gale is of accomplishment, a recognized voice among his peers, and that, as rumors claim, is for his relationship with Mystra, the department head of magic (or the natural sciences) of the university where he currently teaches. Unbeknownst to most everyone, Mystra had first met Gale during his last year in further education taking some pre-college courses. At the time, an impressionable, bright-eyed eighteen year old, his grades, resume, and notable accomplishments had very unfortunately caught her interest. There, Mystra lent her aid, offering to tutor and mentor him to entice him to join the University. Of course, being an academic with no small amount of renown, the offers she presented weren't at all necessary; Gale, ensnared, was thoroughly convinced. From there, he pursued his degree under her very close supervision. One thing led to another, and a very unprofessional relationship cropped up between them, but considering the nature of said unprofessional relationship, no one, not a person, knew of the pair. Still, Gale was in love. Gale thought his love was returned. But during a project Mystra had forbade him to pursue, Gale, over-confident, had erred considerably, and for his troubles, found the netherese orb. Panicked, Gale went to Mystra, cursed tome held feverishly in his hands. Mystra, with cold eyes, told him she'd very plainly warned him, and without a care in the world, she took the book from his grasp, ended their relationship, and barred his growth. Now, Gale is chronically in pain, a deep throb pulsing around a cruelly-grooved chest. Mystra, of course, knows how to balm his ailment, but she very much believes one must live with their mistakes--and so, Gale, disillusioned, is left remarkably alone. He's living alone again. And his projects have been pulled. In fact, he's now no longer allowed to teach any field beyond illusion, and in the lowest point in his life, Gale is worn threadbare as anything, frustrated, confused, and incredibly stressed. Sensing a hostility between them, even the faculty can't help but to give their laughter. Now, they ask him where he'd scurry off to if not for Mystra's coat tails. Between that or the looks of passing sympathy, to be honest, Gale can't say which he hates more.

In a world without magic, the netherese orb isn't there to hurt him. Instead, Mystra breaks things off for his unauthorized research, something she calls a clear demonstration of his blatant disrespect. He has no book, and he has no magical ailment eating at his nerves. Rather, he'd rushed out of their then-shared home, clamoring into his car when she ordered him to leave. Utterly distraught and thoroughly distressed, it was shortly after this that Gale found himself struck by an inebriated driver, both glass and warped steel gnarling his chest. After some weeks, he'd recovered, of course, but not without a terrible scar above his sternum. Hurt flashes from it often, something in the manner of a phantom pain, and though finally recovered, Mystra's still barred him from progressing in his field. In fact, she'd not visited him once. Gale feels that keenly.

#MODERN VERSE.#I really got into this... It's my ONLY AU so y'know. Let me indulge.#You know I think I did a pretty good job translating all of Gale's story beats to a modern verse. Very pleased. (wrings my hands together)#I nerfed the netherese orb. We are just keeping that bad boy to chronic pain because Mystra isn't a goddess here...#Though I CAN play it as her still being a goddess. I am versatile. : ] But for now these are what I wrote up.#Mystra is maybe...10 years older? Smth like that.#Also a tangent but I had to write about Gale being groomed. I hate how obvious it is.#It's obvious in canon and yet some ppl still think he wasn't abused. When I write it out like THIS though I wonder how many can deny it

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sjofn-lofnsdottr · 1 year

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Alright, I am going to TRY to do a BRIEF overview of Dusk's backstory, I guess. Just hit the highlights, up until he started actually adventuring. I will tell myself I can expand on everything later. Later!

Here's a picture that has nothing to do with anything, just because I like having a picture above the fold:

Alright, first off, Dusk's real name is Bellinor, and his sister is Oriane. Their father, when they were very small, started calling them Dusk and Dawn for reasons he never explained, and it stuck. Their grandparents use their given names, and basically no one else does.

He was born in Ishgard. I have thought a lot about his family and where they were in the Ishgardian hierarchy, but I am being BRIEF, so suffice to say, the fanciest of his relatives is his maternal grandmother, who was a knight in service to house Haillenarte.

His father is a spearman, and when Dusk and Dawn were eight or so, he began to train them how to use it. Their mother, a chirurgeon who was starting to break under the strain of being a healer in a Forever War, was still taken by surprise by how visceral a negative reaction she had to this. After talking it over with her husband, they began to plot an extreeeeemely slow desertion from the city. The timing turned out pretty good ... they were finally intending to leave for good when the twins were ten (who had no idea, of course) and during their very last trip outside of the city as a sort of dry run ... the Gates closed, and they couldn't go back, even if they had wanted to.

Dusk never thought of himself as not-Ishgardian, in spite of spending so much more of his life outside of the city than inside it, and he understands why his parents left, even if it was confusing and scary at the time. Unfortunately, part of why it was scary was ... they had fled to Gridania. I have a lot to say about his adolescence being spent in pre-Calamity Gridania and the stresses involved, but suffice to say ... sure, there were no dragons trying to kill them, but at least the dragons were somewhat predictable. The elementals were not.

Dusk and Dawn's parents never wanted them to have to fight, even though their father did continue their training with spears. Just in case. After the Calamity, the twins travelled to Limsa Lominsa. The plan had been for Dusk - who was already a fairly good carpenter - to train as a blacksmith there to supplement his skills. Dawn, a botanist, went with him for company, and just to spread her wings a little, the Calamity giving her an urge to travel while she could. Neither intended to adventure, although they were certainly dressed the part, the whole family still in the habit of being Ever Vigilant. None of them want to be caught unarmed when shit hits the fan, if you will.

As a result, though, while they were bumbling around the city trying to figure out who to even talk to, H'naanza spotted them, and thought they were new adventurers. She called them over and asked them to kill some wharf rats. Dusk agreed to it without correcting her, which made Dawn feel too awkward to correct her herself, and it all kind of spiraled from there.

It all worked out, at least.

I generally follow canon as far as his actual WoL career goes, filling in headcanon in the spaces the narrative itself provides. The biggest 'change' that isn't really a change regards his twin. Dawn, who also has the Echo, did not want to be a Scion, but she is extremely protective of her brother. So when it makes sense in my mind for her to be around, being very clear she is helping him and not the Scions, she's there. The big exception is Shadowbringers ... she's stuck at home and hating every second of it.

He was 30 when the Calamity hit, and was 35 when ARR began. I'm a one expansion = one year person ... except again for Shadowbringers, which in the Source timeline I think of only having happened in a couple of weeks. Which means he'll be turning 40 when 7.0 hits, I'm sure he's excited.

#ffxiv #ffxiv oc #just dusk #character ramblings #I meant it when I said he will Always Help #Dawn's kind of in denial on the Scion front

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konu-d · 4 months

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Because I'm stressed while prepping for finals, I feel like I should share a little bit of my unfortunate past with f/go mostly because back in the day it brought me a lot of comfort

So for the amount of times I've talked about f/go recently on stream I've always talked about how I used to commit plagiarism just to write stuff with my favorite characters and my then self-insert (and thankfully I never had the balls to post that stuff cause that would've been a whole other can of worms)

I'm not proud of it, really I'm not. Which is why I try my best to keep my works original nowadays and even ramble about it to some friends if ever just to see if they go smth along the lines of "hey that sounds really familiar to [insert work of media here]"

What I don't really mention (or at least I don't think I did?) was that during the time I played f/go I was being severely bullied (Korean school type bullying, for reference). The bullying wasn't related to the anime enjoyment, it was mostly because I was just a weird and possibly neurodivergent kid whose only social interaction I learned from anime lmao so. not good. Really not good. much ostracized and bullied lmao

So i had a bunch of works saved on a now deleted google account which were either what I'll label as 'comfort whump' or 'fuzzy warmth'; comfort whump could be a lot of things from real gory body horror with intimacy, assault and aftercare, or anatomy-ignoring smut. Yes they were all poorly written even for the genre they're set in lmao I'm not proud of ANY of those (shoutout that one work with self-insert getting double teamed by Jekyll and Hyde)

Fuzzy warmth was basically stuff with Servants talking philosophy and what being human is like and other stuff like that with self-insert, usually while they're cuddling or something. There were two that I liked and until now I can remember how they go because of the amount of times I reread them lmao

One was with Merlin, because of course it was Merlin; not much happened in that one other than merlin giving my self-insert good dreams and basically telling her (yeah we in the pre-transition 13 year old era ladies and gents) that it was okay to mess up, it was okay to be tired and he'll take care of things if she really can't do it anymore

Short and sweet, really

The more vivid one I remember was called "wait and hope" with GUESS WHO EDMOND DANTES BECAUSE OF COURSE ahem. Basically it had self-insert sitting inside the summoning room which I headcanon-ed back then as a very dark and lonely place with the only shine coming from Mash's shield if it was booted up but otherwise it's dark and quiet? It had my self-insert sitting there in the middle of the room quietly playing with saint quartz and Dantes comes and the room gets darker. Self-insert says smth along the same lines as she does in the Merlin one, where she's tired and she feels guilty for everything she's doing and how she doesn't feel strong enough, how she doesn't feel like the person Dantes saw within the prison tower anymore, and Dantes basically hits her with that "But you have to get up. You have to keep pushing forward. Your task is inhuman and thus you will feel inhuman and yet it must be done all the same."

My self-insert cries and Dantes holds her, wraps her up in his cloak and his hat and if you'll notice I still keep doing that in the little doodles of him and Kazue where Kazue's either bundled up in his cloak or stole Edmond's hat

just... f/go was there with me in the lowest points of my life and it defo shaped A LOT of how I interact with and create media nowadays lmao even if I don't realize it

So for me to come back to it because of the guy who gave me the most comfort back then even if I didn't actively simp for him,,, during another lowest low of my life with my grades and my mom's death and everything,,, Idk. It feels like a circle.

In other words; thanks, both to the people who brought life to Edmond Dantes and with much delusion to Dantes himself. Couldn't be here without you crazy folk <3

#crow rambles #i wont tag this as fgo cause its too personal lmao #ilu edmond dantes #even if you take my discord away like a rat

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blankingbloom · 4 months

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5/26/24

Dear Angelica (aka future me),

Hey! How are you? Before I start my thousands of questions, let me first say, congratulations on graduating and finishing your senior year of high school!!! this must be a bittersweet moment for you, as I am experiencing this at the moment as a junior watching the grades above me graduate and do senior activities. Graduating is a once in a lifetime moment, not everybody gets to graduate due to unfortunate circumstances, but congratulations! Thank you so much for staying strong, the k-12 system is literally horrible lol. I just wanted to say, I (17 year old Angelica) will forever be within you. I am you, but I want you to have no regrets or wising to be me because “life was so carefree” 💀💀 naw it’s not I’m suffering rn lmfao I have 3 summer classes, a job to juggle and volunteer opportunities to catch up on and college apps 😿 whomp whomp. I so desperately want to be you right now! It may feel insufferable at the moment and you feel lots of bittersweet feelings and loneliness being unleashed from hell (prison) (kleinisd) (kleinhigh); you should know that there is a whole chapter ahead of you and you’ve achieved a milestone! When something ends, a new opportunity arises. I hope you’ll feel better soon, knowing how I feel now will probably affect you 10x deeper (you’ll understand). Highschool for me was no fun adventure; I was barely sociable, barely any friends (like a few ofc I’m not a loser), I felt like I wasn’t on track to be my genuine real self anytime soon, but you have the opportunity to change that through college. I need you to be stronger for me until we get our masters in compsci 💀. Be an academic weapon once more for us plz!! I know you want that so bad. I know our experience wasn’t the best, especially during covid and certain situations, but there is a whole life ahead of us, that is depending on our actions. I trust us to keep it up! BTW Im missing a ton of the 2023 seniors, I can’t believe that it’s real. It low key hurt seeing everyone I had classes with especially in financial math, english, photography, and a&p graduate. It’s so bittersweet it low key hurt my feelings, especially seeing everyone I grew up with who were a grade above me. I don’t want to forget them at all, I want to remember who they are! I never peaked in high school, but I’m never going to see these people again, unless it’s by a rare chance someday, I doubt they would recognize me. I guess I just grew attached. Anyways, I have some questions LOL.

1. What is our plan after graduating Highschool? What college are we going to?

2. Did we end up submitting any of our SAT/ACT scores?

3. What’s your favorite song currently?

4. Are we still dating Ben?

5. Did we make any new friends?

6. What is your college essay about?

7. What made us stronger?

8. How was senior year? Was it any easier taking AP classes? Do we understand pre-calc?

9. Do we still want to take comp sci?

10. What happened to your H‑E‑B job?

11. Did we get any stoles/cords for graduation or not?

12. What was our final Highschool GPA?

13. What’s our class schedule?

14. What do we look like now? Do I still have short hair? Do I still look gay?

15. Can we crochet with greater experience?

16. What’s your biggest worry?

17. Are you happy?

Thank you for reading this!! Respond to my questions soon. Goodbye! I will always be within you.

Sincerely, Angelica

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REPLY:

Hi Baby Angelica!

Since you're from the past, I have so so so much to catch you up on. Time flies by when you're consistently stressed out. But don't worry! I will answer your millions of questions first! Then we can actually discuss :)

1. What is our plan after graduating Highschool? What college are we going to?

A: We are doing Computer Engineering! After hours and hours of research, I wanted you to have opportunities in both the computer science and electrical engineering fields. I want you to have a lot of pathways so you can have tons of money and opportunities! We are going to UT Dallas. We got CAPPED from UT Austin and UW-Seattle was way out of our budget sadly. Maybe someday my love :(

2. Did we end up submitting any of our SAT/ACT scores?

A: Hell no, they were too low LMFAO

3. What’s your favorite song currently?

A: Talk by Beabadoobee, Antihero by Taylor Swift, any MSI song

4. Are we still dating Ben?

A: Yes <3

5. Did we make any new friends?

A: YES! We aren't friends with.. those girl(s) anymore. They were bad for you. WE HAVE MORE GENUINE AND KIND FRIENDS!! There is a whole world out there waiting for you. I love my friends.

6. What is your college essay about?

A: Bugs. In the UT Austin essays, we wrote about photography, allergies, tamagotchis, etc.

7. What made us stronger?

A: Learning to adapt, spreading love, reading people, putting ourselves in uncomfortable situations in order to grow. Being with likeminded people!

8. How was senior year? Was it any easier taking AP classes? Do we understand pre-calc?

A: PRE CAL WAS MY MOST HATED SUBJECT. It is so fricking hard I dont think I ever understood the concepts. The AP Classes had lots of work in it but you managed your time fine and it was never that serious anyways (except AP 2D art) that sucked a lot. Senior year was shit im not even gonna lie. I didn't even attend like 98% of the events LOL. Fuck no I am not going back!

9. Do we still want to take comp sci?'

A: Computer Engineering babe dont sweat it

10. What happened to your H‑E‑B job?

A: OUR LAST DAY WAS TODAYYYYYYYY

11. Did we get any stoles/cords for graduation or not?

A: One stole for NHS, one stole for DUDU CREDIT!

12. What was our final Highschool GPA?

A: 4.6/6.0 LMFAOOO

13. What’s our class schedule?

A: -1st period: Late Arrival (Used to be Photography 4)

A: -2nd: AP Art History

A: -3rd: Photojournalism/Office Aide

A: -4th: AP Psychology/Interpersonal Studies

A: -5th: AP 2D Art

A: -6th: AP Pre-Cal (idk how u survived but girl... never again)

A: -7th: Early Release

14. What do we look like now? Do I still have short hair? Do I still look gay?

A: You got the short hair back and we still look gay asf. We have new pink glasses though and they're see through! We still have bangs. Shit load of stretch marks though smh. Im like 115 pounds now.

15. Can we crochet with greater experience?

A: fuck no

16. What’s your biggest worry?

A: If my roommates will like me, I'll feel lonelier, money, If ill be smart enough for college, if my friends now will still want to hang out with me :(

17. Are you happy?

A: I could be happier but I am okay! Not stressed right now :)

0 notes

oliviahallwriting · 30 days

Text

Chapter 6

For Loftman students, Thanksgiving break was, realistically, only four days long. The day before was a holiday, sure, but most students spent it asleep, either in their dorms, on planes, or on their childhood beds.

However, this wasn’t the day before Thanksgiving, but Tuesday, the final day for midterms at Loftman. It was also, not coincidentally, the first time the energy drinks in the campus’s mini-marts were out of stock. Tom’s last midterm was due in a few hours, so he settled for a cold-brewed coffee at the nearest café and got to work, ignoring the stress in his gut.

Unlike his other midterms, this wasn’t an essay or multiple-choice test. It was more similar to an art project, in that he had to design a public park and then build a scale replica from balsa wood. He’d submitted the blueprints and measurements a few days earlier, and convinced the professor to give him a few more days to build the thing, until the architecture building closed for the pre-Thanksgiving cleaning crews at six. He’d been pleased with himself at the time—the extra days had ultimately been necessary for him to produce at least B-worthy essays for his composition class—but now the extension felt like a mistake. He had three hours to hot-glue the piece together and send it in. Two hours. One. Sweat dripped down Tom’s forehead as he held balsa wood in his left hand and between his lips. His right hand held the glue gun, now over-hot with use. The stick of glue was lost somewhere in the depths of the gun, surely almost depleted.

Tom produced a decent looking, though still drying and therefore structurally unsound, model. At 5:45, he left his dorm for the landscape-architecture hall. Eleven minutes later he put down the model next to the wall in front of his professor’s office door, next to three others. Each had a piece of paper next to it, covered with MLA-formatted text.

Shit, Tom thought, recalling a short and arguably too-easy-to-overlook passage from the assignment page. He’d forgotten to write a descriptive overview.

So, at 5:58, he ran into the architecture library on the second floor, logged onto the computer, ignored the glare from a library aide, typed a few paragraphs in what had to be a words-per-minute personal best, printed it out, and stuck it onto his model where a plastic willow tree met the base. A campus employee ushered him out of the building at 6:05. Tom smiled—he’d done it.

The entire week-long midterms process, and the days leading up to it, had been all-consuming, more urgent by leagues than the other two tasks that had been taking up his mental real estate.

The first task was to find Kiyana to get her opinion on the email he’d been sent, if only to prove it was a hoax.

The second task was more difficult. At some point he’d have to think about the confusing feelings he’d started to have towards Jun. It wasn’t like it was obvious, something Tom could say to himself, about himself, as a fact. But he wasn’t repressing anything, either, at least not to his knowledge. If he were gay that wouldn’t be hard to admit. Or bi, or…whatever that other one was. Pan? Something like that; there wasn’t much difference between how he viewed men and women. And it wasn’t like he needed to dwell on it; it was his own business, at any rate, business that would probably take introspection over hours or days. It sounded exhausting. Tom had done a month’s worth of thinking over the past few days, after all. He deserved to let go of his thoughts for a little while.

Unfortunately, the next few days wouldn’t be any easier, he thought, collapsed on his dorm bed. He still needed to pack for Thanksgiving break, while crashing from four different caffeinated drinks. Then he’d have to deal with his parents. And, worse, his sister, whom he was still on bad terms with. She hadn’t texted or called in weeks, and she held grudges like sponges held water; there was an incident in middle school involving a lizard that she still bothered him with.

What had even ticked her off? In all honesty Tom couldn’t remember. If it was from their earlier phone call, all he recalled was that he was trying to keep her on track in school, and not be too embarrassing. Well-meaning shit like that.

His bag was half-packed and the light was still on when Tom fell asleep.

When he woke up, it was to an aching head and a clawing stomach, vengeful from his forgotten meal the night before. Tom groaned and set out to finish packing; with any luck he could eat some chips on the train.

The train did indeed sell chips, and the ride passed quickly. Before long Tom stood in the living room of his parent’s house. They’d waited for him with shoulder-pats and hugs ready, except for Allessandra, who didn’t budge from her reclining chair. When Tom’s mom gave her a pointed look, she reluctantly stood and gave Tom a hug, swift and cold. His dad retreated into the other room, drawn to, most likely, some kind of sports game.

“Hi,” Allessandra said.

“Hey,” he replied.

A pause.

“What’s wrong?” Tom’s mom asked, looking between them. “It’s like you don’t know each other.”

Tom and Allessandra both chuckled, but there wasn’t much in it.

“Just tired,” Tom said. “I don’t know what her problem is.”

His sister scowled.

“If you say so, mijito,” his mom continued. “Don’t think I’m blind.”

“Mama,” Tom said. “You read too much into everything.” And then he noticed the way his mom tensed, and stammered a little “I mean,” “only sometimes,” and “I’m sorry, I take it back”.

It worked well enough, because, after a tense little second, his mom only shrugged, before gesturing to a seat next to the recliner. “I suppose you’ve had a hard last few days. Have a seat. We have coffee if you’d like. Soda, too. I know you aren’t one for tea, but we have plenty of that, too.”

“Oh, coffee, gracias,” Tom said. His mom stood up, but he spoke again before she left the room. “Have you heard from Grandma lately?”

His mom stilled in the doorway between the living room and kitchen. She turned back to face him.

“Your abuela? She’s holding on. The doctors are giving her eighty percent on the heart procedure.”

“Oh. Um, no,” Tom said. He felt a little guilty; he hadn’t kept up with his abuela’s condition. He’d never been that close to her. Both definitions: she lived a few countries south. “Dad’s mom. Grandma.”

“She’s fine. Coming tomorrow for Thanksgiving. Why? You know something I don’t?”

“She wasn’t there for a few classes I had a couple weeks ago, so I was kind of worried.”

“Aw, sweet. I’m sure she took a few days for herself.” His mom ruffled his hair before turning her attention to the coffee maker.

Tom walked into the living room, where his dad was, as he’d predicted, watching TV. A good, clean fútbol match, played between two of Colombia’s premier teams. His dad tended to alternate between watching South American and European divisional matches.

He watched alongside for a while. Sports wasn’t really his thing, but he felt obliged to spend at least a little time with his dad, and this was his father’s preferred way of holding conversation. No eye contact was required, and neither was the sentimentality that so often occurred when he spoke to his mom. There was also something to watch when the conversation lulled, which was often; his father tended towards silence most of the time, when he wasn’t trying to impress.

That said, Tom’s dad was the one to broach a new topic, one apart from the weaknesses of each team’s goalie formation.

“So, how is university?”

“Good,” Tom replied.

“Oh, that’s good.” His dad took a sip of Modelo. “Still in architecture?”

“Landscape architecture and design, yeah.” And then, to change the conversation, he brought up his father’s main non-television hobby, which was carving soccer players out of wood and selling them online. “You build anything lately?”

“Yeah, a few orders came in. They let me have fun with the poses, too.”

His mom walked in, cradling a coffee mug. Allessandra was behind her and took a seat on the other side of the couch, a few feet away from Tom.

“You can start working after school right away with landscape architecture, yes?” Tom’s mom asked, setting the coffee on a wooden side-table next to him.

“Yeah, sure,” Tom replied halfheartedly. His entire one class on the subject hadn’t clued him in on whether someone could, realistically, enter the field after four years.

“Do you like it?” His dad asked. “I didn’t think you were that technical.”

Tom nodded, but there was an annoying part of him that agreed with his father. He wasn’t sure why he’d gravitated to landscape architecture over everything else at Loftman. He didn’t particularly enjoy math or planning, and psychology was far more popular among otherwise-undeclared freshmen. But it wasn’t like he’d hated Larch: analyzing and touring public parks and gardens was relaxing. The drawing-based assignments, where he’d detail gardens and arboretums, cleared his head like nothing else, and had probably stopped him from going insane. The “architecture” part of it, where he’d had to do measurements and research materials’ costs versus strengths versus aesthetics, well, he could take or leave. But ithe boredom of it certainly made the whole major feel more professional. Otherwise he’d just be, what, doodling plants? Work wasn’t supposed to be fun.

“Sure he is,” his mom said. “He got it from you.”

Made sense enough. Tom’s parents worked for the same Sacramento-based company; his dad was in software development. There was a good chance that the company, and Tom’s family by extension, would move further south by the time he graduated.

“Is that even a good idea?” Allessandra said. “You have to, like, talk to people doing that.”

“Christ,” Tom muttered, and turned to glare at his sister. “Can you say what’s on your mind?”

“I just did, if you were listening,” Allessandra said. “You’re shit at talking to people.”

Tom’s parents didn’t say anything, but, from the little he was able to discern from his mom’s posture, her abstinence was difficult. Not that he was paying much attention; anger had come on him, hot and painful, made worse by his lack of a comeback. If only she’d have just hit him! He’d have shrugged it off as nothing, an action made out of anger, without reason. Her poise forced him to wonder if she was right.

Allessandra gave a victorious little smirk and changed the topic. “Anyway, lots of people change their majors. I hear it’s, like, most of them. Maybe that’ll be you, if it doesn’t pan out for, you know, any reason.”

“Ah, true,” Tom’s mom said, looking relieved. She’d been pacing, a balloon about to pop. Clearly she’d wanted to intervene. Though he resented his sister’s aggression, Tom respected that his mom hadn’t stopped it, and finally started to treat him and his sister like adults. He could never have a straightforward feud with his sister in high school; the stakes had been too high.

“Mama,” Tom said, “Do you not want me to study landscape architecture?”

“No,” she replied. HIs mom had always been direct, and didn’t like waiting.

His parents had met at an all-hands meeting at their company. His dad liked to retell the story of the day they’d met: she’d been the only one in the accounting department who’d looked like any fun at all, and had approached him only minutes after meeting him, and in front of the HR execs. One of the department heads had supposedly muttered something passive-aggressive about dating within the workplace.

His dad hadn’t ever described the exact wording his mom had used in her reply, but it must have been impressive, considering the HR department never pressed the issue. It definitely carried some expletives. His mom’s temper was cathartic, when she and Tom were on the same page. Not so much when she was insulting his choice of major.

“Why not?” Tom had to reply.

“I just don’t think you’d enjoy it,” his mom said. “Working for someone else. Be independent. Make your own hours.”

“I don’t know if you understand,” he said. “It’s not like I’m a gardener. I’d be, you know, using math and whatever to design rich people’s gardens and public parks.”

“I do know,” his mom said, in a huff. “You’d be working for millionaires, and city councils. Besides, your sister had a point.”

Tom took a sip of coffee. It was an angry drink, bitter and hot. He decided against saying anything, and stared into his drink.

His mom kept talking. For his part, Tom stayed put on the sofa. He even tried to listen, catching words, phrases, and the uncharacteristically tactful way his mom was speaking. Ultimately, it was a lot of bluster to say that she didn’t think her son was good company, and that he needed to be nicer to his sister, and to, well, most people he’d meet in the workplace.

Where had this whole diatribe even come from? Tom had assumed that his mom had started to leave him alone. And his sister, apparently. He hadn’t been mean to her since he’d arrived! Unless Allessandra had talked to her about him being, admittedly, a little mean on the phone to her. But that was weeks ago. At some point, Allessandra needed to let things go instead of escalating.

His mom wrapped up her statements and patted Tom’s shoulder. His sister had long since turned her attention towards watching the television. There was something classy about it, Tom thought. At least she wasn’t hounding him, like his mom.

“You show up for Thanksgiving, and this is how I speak to you,” she said, her voice soft. “I’m sorry for laying this on you right now, before you even finish your coffee. It’s been on my mind for a while.”

Tom nodded in reply, and she retreated to the kitchen. Allessandra didn’t say anything more on the topic, and seemed a little embarrassed that her comment was the trigger for such a conversational explosive.

He sat with her, and with his dad, for a little while. Eventually his mom started humming from the kitchen, one room over, a sign that she wouldn’t mind company. Tom moved to the kitchen and stayed there until the sun set, helping her prepare the turkey.

When he turned in for the night, it was in his old room. He’d only moved out of the space two months ago, but it felt small and unfamiliar, like he was already far too old for the place.

…

Tom neither loved nor hated Thanksgiving. Sure, it was one of only a few times a year he spent with his dad’s side of the family, and they were sometimes okay to hang out with. It was only fair his father had a holiday to himself and his siblings; it was hard not to notice how reclusive the man had become over the last few years. The annual week-long event that was New Year’s seemed like it aged him another year, despite the effort he spent searching for conversation topics. Tom hadn’t lied during his class discussion about how much his father had to learn to keep up with his mom’s brothers, but he hadn’t revealed how much his father resented doing it. So Thanksgiving was pleasant, if only that he got to unwind with his dad while stuffing himself with turkey. But it was also boring, especially when the alcohol wore off.

His aunt and uncle showed up before noon. Like usual, he offered them drinks and appetizers, and played some card games with his cousins, who’d started third and fifth grade that year. They were more fun to talk to than their parents, not that he’d say so out loud. The little dramas composing the core of an elementary-schooler’s life— recess crushes, mean teachers, homework assignments— tended to be more interesting than what his dad’s sibling’s discussed. Some years it was income tax, other years they lingered on the riveting topic of recent highway closures.

This year, it sounded like they were talking politics. Something about bathroom bills, which perked up his ears; Jun, at least, would have an opinion on them. After this round of canasta, he’d join them and give his own opinion, which wasn’t much beyond a vague gesture to let people do what they want, which felt like a reasonable take.

But, moments after Tom let his younger cousin win the round, the doorbell rang, and the adults’ conversation dropped.

From the kitchen, Tom’s mom called for him to answer the door. When he did, and faced his grandma, he let out an embarrassing sound of surprise. Then he chastised himself: obviously it’d be his grandma. He’d even been told she’d be coming.

“Oh, hi,” he said.

She ruffled his hair a little. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

“It’s nice to see you,” he replied. “I’d started to miss you being on campus. Glad you answered Dr. Florence’s call, though. I was a little worried.”

She paused and looked at him blankly before taking a seat on the recliner. After another few seconds she huffed out a laugh.

“Yes, I took a few days off.”

Tom waited for more of an explanation, but she didn’t continue speaking, and instead stared at him. Her glassy-eyed gaze made Tom a little uncomfortable; something was off about her, and he couldn’t pinpoint it.

“Oh,” he said, eventually. “How was that?”

“It was nice.”

“Did you go anywhere? Do anything?”

“I spoke to some friends over the phone.” She didn’t speak for a few seconds, then perked up, apparently recalling the call she’d had with him. Weird; he’d brought that up only minutes earlier. “And you, too.”

“I remember.”

“What have you been up to?”

The way his grandma spoke reminded Tom of conversations—no, dialogues—he’d had with his parents after having a couple drinks at his friends’ house in high school. Though even when Tom was deliberately hiding information, he’d thought that his conversations were more personal than whatever this was.

“The usual, I guess. I heard a couple of your colleagues had tea with you last week. How was that?”

“Nosy thing, aren’t you?”

Tom’s smile faded. Being a little nosy, a little mean, when talking with his grandma was one of the reasons he liked her company. But he pressed on.

“Well, was it fun?”

“I didn’t have tea with anybody, young man. Why do you ask?”

What was he supposed to say? That there were a few too many odd events occurring around the science lounge lately? That Dr. Florence, despite being an arrogant bastard, had no reason to lie about having tea with her? Neither option felt like it had enough legs to bother mentioning. There was his email message, though even that was probably a weird phishing attempt from someone who forgot to include a call to action.

So he didn’t press the question, and mumbled an apology.

His parents walked into the room and greeted his grandma in a process that took several minutes. She’d brought a side dish for the Thanksgiving dinner, and, as a gift for the home, a container of loose-leaf tea. Tom took the opportunity to leave the front room and set both on the kitchen counter. He didn’t really want to keep talking to her. He returned to his cousins, who were happy to include him in their next round of card games.

It only took a few minutes before both Tom’s grandmother and his sister entered the room. Allessandra gestured for Tom to join their conversation, so he sighed and let his cousins finish their game. Apparently not wanting to get roped into dull adult chatter, both cousins immediately moved back to the front room to play. Tom looked at them enviously.

“What have you been up to?” his grandmother asked, looking towards Allessandra.

“Not much to say. My boyfriend and I are getting along, I guess. But he’s been distant lately. Lab work and all that.”

His grandma looked up, suddenly interested. “Tyler, if I’m correct? What field is he in?”

“Oh, huh, I didn’t think you knew about him. He's biochem.”

“What kind of lab work does he do?”

“A lot of it goes over my head, and I’ve forgotten the rest.”

“I’m sure you can remember,” his grandma said.

Tom noticed his sister shift in her seat a little. Fair enough, he supposed. There was an intensity to his grandmother that he hadn’t seen before. It was near-opposite the weirdly stagnant mood she’d been in when talking to him moments ago, and reminded him of Jun, at least, when he’d first met him. The guy had tempered a bit since then, Tom thought.

“No, I don’t think so,” Allessandra replied. She glanced at Tom, obviously willing him to step in. Whatever, he thought. Maybe he could get more information now, when his grandmother was more alert. Say something strange to get her to reveal information, like they sometimes did in detective shows. Break the meta or whatever.

“I, uh, kissed a girl at a party,” he said.

He wasn’t sure how he expected her to respond. ‘That’s not the kind of thing you announce to your grandmother’, maybe. Or something with the word ‘scoundrel’. Though, he realized with a frown, she’d eased up on the five-dollar words since she’d been his professor, and hadn’t used any during the last office hour.

“Okay,” she replied. “Enjoy the party. I have to take a phone call.”

She walked back through the house and closed the front door. The house’s alarm system chimed once.

Allessandra looked at him and clapped, slow and sarcastic. “Good job on landing the kiss. I knew you could do it.”

Tom rolled his eyes.

“Though I don’t know why you’d tell her. She’s, like, seventy-eight.”

“She’s acting weird, right? I wanted to throw her off, see what she’d do. And it worked! You don’t think ‘okay’ is a weird reaction?”

“Tom,” Allessandra said, visibly exasperated, “What are you talking about?”

“Well, she’s usually a little more, uh, animated, I guess. And you don’t think it was odd that she didn’t, I don’t know, chastise me or something? I thought all grandmothers were prudes regarding their grandchildren.”

“More than you?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard.” Allessandra stared at him, challenging. Tom felt his face flush, more out of embarrassment than anger.

“What’s this about?”

“You don’t remember?”

Tom shook his head.

“Your comment over the phone a few weeks ago? You basically called me a slut.”

Tom didn’t reply for a bit. That did seem like something he would say; he must not have been paying attention at the time. A convincing part of him wanted to defend against the claim, but he let the offense through, let himself feel the guilt of it.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Allessandra said, and waited, apparently for more of an answer.

There was only so much groveling Tom would do, though. His sister wasn’t going to milk his apologetics for what they were worth.

“Is that not enough for you?” “Not really, no.”

“Then what?”

“You just implied that you believe what you said, but wish you’d said it nicer. I need you to realize that it’s common and normal to enjoy dating and that kind of thing.”

A moment of silence passed, unbearable enough that Tom forced a cough to break it.

“I need you to realize that that’s an odd thing for someone to say to her brother.”

“All you need to do is nod.”

“Fine,” Tom said, and nodded. He couldn’t look at her.

“Do you…do you not believe me?”

“Al, can we get back on topic? Please?”

Allessandra stared at him. Her anger from earlier seemed to have lessened a bit, replaced by a curious streak. “Sure.”

“What, um, were we talking about?”

“You were saying that Grandma was acting weird or something?”

“Oh, right.”

Allessandra sighed. Tom had the impression she was giving her analysis to him as thanks for his overly-personal apology. “I don’t know. Maybe she speaks differently when she’s, you know, professing. And no, I don’t think it was weird that she didn’t have a good reply to your random comment about some girl you made out with at a party.”

“We didn’t make out. And what about taking a call in the middle of a conversation? That’s kind of weird, right? What kinds of calls are important enough for an eighty-year-old?”

“Who cares?” Allessandra said, her earlier curiosity gone. She poked Tom in the chest to punctuate her statements. “You’re in everyone’s business. Maybe it was the school faculty. Maybe it was health insurance, or a doctor. Maybe one of her friends is dying. Maybe she was uncomfortable with your question and made up an excuse to leave. You scared her away one of the few times a year you get to see her!”

The poking hurt enough that Tom winced and took a step backwards. “Hey, I go to her office hours sometimes,” he said. “She doesn’t live that far from here, so you could go visit if you want. I hear you have a bit more free time than me.”

Allessandra left the room in a huff.

Tom realized, disappointed, that he still needed to show her the email. It wasn’t very convincing, but it was still more evidence than nothing, and now he had to wait until she calmed down. God, his cousins were easier to deal with.

His parents called the group to dinner. It was a lush spread of different, extravagant entrees. His mom was an excellent cook, and made it a point of pride to not repeat meals every year; her only sacrifice to tradition was the stipulation that turkey was an ingredient in at least one dish. This year, it was in a stew, which smelled incredible.

Tom’s grandmother came in from the garage. When she conversed with Tom’s parents over the meal, it was in the same, vaguely dazed way as earlier, but no one seemed to notice. Allessandra noticed that Tom was eavesdropping and glared at him from across the table.

After the meal, when the adults were chatting on couches in another room, Tom cornered his sister near the desserts.

“There’s another thing I forgot to mention,” he said.

Allessandra sighed but stayed put as he took out his phone and showed her the email. She scanned it for a few seconds.

“Is this why you’re so paranoid?” she scoffed.

“Yeah. Did you read it?”

She laughed incredulously. “I can’t believe you. What, did someone call and ask for your Social Security, too?”

“You know what? Never mind,” Tom replied, snatching his phone away from his sister. He felt a little absurd.

His grandma appeared at the doorway to the kitchen. “What’s going on here?”

“Grandma, check out this email Tom got a few weeks ago,” Allessandra said.

“It’s nothing,” Tom said quickly, fumbling with his phone in his haste to put it back in his pocket. “Just me being silly, some of the ol’ first-semester madness, you know.”

“I want to see it,” his grandma said, with a pointed look. Reluctantly, Tom showed his phone to her.

She took the phone from him, which seemed like fairly normal elder behavior, and held it no more than two inches from her face. An awkward few moments passed, and she held the phone down, making no move to give it back to Tom.

“But I’m here,” she said eventually.

“Yeah,” Tom said. “I guess it was a scam or something.”

“See? No need to freak out,” Allessandra chimed in. She left the room, calling out, as a closer, “Next time, be less gullible.”

Tom was alone with his grandmother.

“So, I guess I’ll take this back now,” he said, reaching forwards to retrieve his phone.

“Delete it,” she said.

Was it just him, or had she not blinked for several minutes?

“Why?”

She didn’t reply.

“Grandma, if it’s nothing, it shouldn’t matter.”

“I don’t want you worrying about it.”

“Oh. Okay, then, I will,” Tom said. He made no move to delete the message. It was odd that she hadn’t laughed, or even looked confused, reading the message. If it were a prank, she would’ve acted confused, or even angry, that someone was impersonating her.

“I have to see you do it,” his grandmother said.

Tom unconsciously took a step away from her. Something in her tone was inhuman, predatory.

“Grandson,” she continued. “Give me the phone.”

“It shouldn’t matter, if it’s a hoax,” Tom muttered, and then jumped backwards in shock as his grandmother, seventy-eight years old with brittle joints, barrelled towards him.

His startled jump worked well enough to avoid the tackle; his grandma hit the wall behind him. The impact shook the room and knocked over one of his parents’ framed Frida Kahlo prints.

Tom instinctively rushed over to where his grandma sat on the wall.

“God, I, uh, are you okay?” he asked. He put a hand on her shoulder.

She looked up sharply, apparently not dazed in the slightest from the impact, and tried to snatch Tom’s phone, which he still held in his hand. He flinched and moved away from her, before making a snap decision.

“See? I’m deleting it,” he said. He waved the phone in the air, surreptitiously holding two buttons on the sides to take a screenshot.

His grandma looked up at him, and at his phone, and got up off the floor. She bent her legs and tensed, reminding Tom, ridiculously, of the way a cat moves before it pounces.

Tom gestured to the screen and deleted the email.

His grandma immediately stood upright and brushed herself off.

“Well, that’s resolved, then,” she stated, sounding more like herself than she had all day.

Tom’s parents, sister, uncle, and aunt ran into the room.

“We heard a crash,” his mom said. “Everyone okay?”

“Ah, yes. I took a bit of a tumble,” his grandma replied. She looked at Tom with an unreadable expression. “Apologies for the commotion.”

The rest of them rushed to her, fretting and checking for injuries. Tom left the room to go to his old bedroom, where he locked the door. At this point he didn’t care if his relatives thought he was antisocial.

His sister knocked on the door at some point, but, when he didn’t answer, she left. No one else tried to interrupt him, and the day passed.

He spent most of the rest of the four-day weekend taking naps in his old bedroom; his thoughts caromed off of each other at night and kept him frustratingly conscious. He spent meals with his parents, who wondered why he’d become so standoffish, and watched a few sports games with his dad, who, thankfully, didn’t ask any questions.

Why would his grandmother care enough about that damn email to tackle him to delete it? If it were a hoax, it didn’t make any sense, other than that she was becoming senile.

If it weren’t, maybe he should go to the cops, despite the message’s explicit directive for him to not do that. Not that he especially wanted to, anyway; he wasn’t the least likely person to get treated badly by the police, especially if it was to all-but waste their time. They’d find something on him, a little underage drinking, or that one time in middle school he’d lifted a chocolate bar from a corner store.

He should probably just forget about the whole thing, chalk his grandma’s reaction and fading memory as a momentary freak-out. He could delete the screenshot he’d taken of the message and forget about the whole thing. Then he could focus on his studies, and Jun.

If only he believed it.

#novel #writing

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mooglemeet · 2 years

Text

MOBILE FAQ, KUPO!

What is a connectivity & positivity project?

In layman’s terms, the project is fairly straightforward! A connectivity project aims to connect people who have similar interests across an activity, whereas a positivity project aims to be positive. The goal of this blog is to promote roleplay across Final Fantasy XIV and serve as a directory for people to find like-minded individuals to hang out with.

Who runs this project?

This project was created and is maintained by yours truly, Kupo-mod! You may also know me as Alexstraza-mod from WRACONNECT! As for my real identity, however? I’d like to keep that a secret! This is not to create animosity or stir up drama – it’s a personal choice to keep the blog free of any perceived bias and allow me to exist with relative anonymity in the community. However, if you have any concerns, feel free to message me and I’ll do my best to sort the issue out!

How can I get involved?

All the information about involvement can be found in the rules section!

You reblogged something from an abuser! How do I go about contacting you?

First of all, thank you for bringing these kinds of issues to my attention. I don’t know everyone in the community so there is a chance that problematic content may be promoted as a result. Though the protocol for reporting was covered in my rules section, I’ll highlight it here too:

MOOGLEMEET has an anti-bullying policy, and I believe that everyone is entitled to a fair chance and room for change free of bias. However, having been a victim of abusers myself, I understand that protecting past and future victims is also extremely important and shouldn’t be ignored for the sake of appearances. This means I have to toe the line of enforcing rules but also ensuring innocent people aren’t being hurt by those with malicious intent.

If you see content/characters on this site that are owned or managed by abusers, I ask that you submit a claim with evidence detailing their actions. I cannot do anything without proof, so I stress the absolute importance of this. Without evidence, the best I can do is keep an eye on that person and ask that any new instances of toxic behaviour are recorded and submitted to me. Though it’s an unfortunate policy for those who did not screenshot/document their situation, this is the most balanced response to the issue. If I identify a user, they will be blocked and their content will be deleted.

Under no circumstances will I reveal who made a claim.

I have an idea/character/event/free company that is currently under construction! Can I post it here to generate interest?

Of course! MOOGLEMEET is not limited to pre-created ideas. If you have a work in progress that you’d like to gauge interest, go right ahead!

I see you post a lot of Balmung/Mateus content! Do you plan on expanding to other servers/data centres?

Though this question was more applicable when the servers were segregated, the core point still applies: Because a lot of the smaller servers tend to be insulated when it comes to their roleplay communities, there often isn’t a lot of information about them. Without knowing where to look, I can’t hope to promote content beyond the major servers and their data center. It’s up to those people in the smaller places to let me know they’re around! I’m hoping the introduction of a data center-wide search will assist in this matter and, the more times the blog is tagged to a particular server or data centre, the more I’ll know where to look. If you’re on a smaller server, PLEASE tag or im me your content! I want to promote you, too!

Are you looking for mods?

Not at this moment! WRACONNECT is moderated by Onyxia-mod in the wake of my disinterest in World of Warcraft, which gives me more time to dedicate here! However, if things do change, I will update accordingly.

MISC.

If you have a question that has not been answered here, check out this tag first!

#[ mobile faq ]#[ mod speaks ]

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vendettaparker · 4 years

Text

What a Dumbass [P.P]

Summary: Peter’s mistake leads to you being injured.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: Swearing, like a substantial amount, suggestive content kinda, gun shot wound, and flustered!Peter

a/n: I really liked writing this. I couldn’t stop laughing at some of the dialogue. and the mistake peter made to cause the whole set-up of the story is so funny to me. like i can legit see him making this mistake. also, i’m gonna make a permanent tag list, so please send me an ask or message me if you want to be on it! <3

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Peter Benjamin Parker is a fucking dumbass. All the time mostly. Most of the time his dumbassery leads to a lot of annoyed avengers, a lot of clean up, and a lot of spilled secrets. Hence why like three people who definitely shouldn’t know he is Spider-man do. But every once in while his idiocy can lead to an unexpected happily ever after, at least until he fucks something up again.

This particular fuck up has yet to be determined as a happy accident or your new 13th reason. It all started when that spider bitch decided it’d be a good idea to watch some explicit content on his laptop. Now, this wasn’t particularly an unknown activity for him to partake in, since we all know about his little impromptu purchase in Germany, but unbeknownst to this dork, his aunt was in the next room over working on a tear in his suit. And to make matters worse, he accidentally just so happened to purchase a subscription using said aunt’s credit card that was pre-setup in his laptop.

Now May is a very understanding woman. Very sex-positive, very loving, and inclusive; the whole shebang really. So when she happened to catch this idiot doing what he most certainly shouldn’t have been doing, she wasn’t mad, just thoroughly disturbed. Then she got the notification about the purchase. That was a bit more taboo in her eyes. So Peter was grounded from patrolling for a week and his laptop privileges were revoked for two weeks. That was fucking merciful compared to what this whole fuck up put you through.

At the school that following Monday, Peter spent the whole first, second, fourth, and lunch period trying to convince you to take over patrol for a week. Sure, you could definitely handle it, not to pat yourself on the back or anything, but you were significantly stronger than Peter, so it shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. But you just really didn’t want to. Peter had his ‘Peter Tingle’ to help him find danger, while you’d actually have to look. It just seemed harder for you to do than it would be for him.

“Why are you even grounded?” You sighed after Peter's 3rd time bringing up the possibility of you patrolling for him at lunch.

“He got caught watching and buying p—” Ned started laughing.

“Ned! Shut up!” Peter yelled, slapping his hand over his friend's mouth.

“How has your identity not been leaked yet, Jesus Christ.” You mumbled, giggling. You flipped through your chemistry textbook, writing notes to prepare for Friday’s quiz.

“Yeah, and how come you didn’t know May was home?” Ned pushed Peter’s hand away. “Where was your ‘Peter Tingle’ then?”

“She’s not a threat, dude. But shit, I really wish my tingle detected her.” Peter groaned, a deep blush covering his features. “Please (Y/N). I really, really don’t wanna leave Queens without any protection for a week. I’ll try to convince May to let me go out on the weekend, so really it’s only five days.”

“I guess I could help you out, but you owe me. I should really spend this time studying for my chemistry test. Iron bitch is gonna have my head on a spike if I fail another chem test.” You said, highlighting more notes.

“Okay! Delmar’s for a week, anytime, anywhere.” Peter said putting his hand out for you to shake.

“Make it a month, I know my worth.”

Peter hesitated, but eventually gave in, “Fine, but you better do a good job.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

So now you were stuck patrolling from 8:30 to 11:00 every night. It wasn't bad per se, and nothing too eventful happened. You stopped a small convenience store robbery, gave a few kids some tips at the skatepark, ran some errands for an old lady, and saved a cat from a tree. Thursday night was the real kicker though. Your night had barely started and you accidentally got in the middle of a drug deal between some smaller mob and a real messed-up junkie. This should’ve been an easy takedown, only six people in total that needed to be taken out, but like was mentioned before, you don’t have Peter’s goddamn, stupid fucking tingle. So after taking all six of the perps out you started to walk away after alerting the police. Unfortunately, one of those assclowns had come to, and grabbed the gun a few feet away from him and shot it towards you. The bullet went through your thigh and out the other side. Screaming in shock and pain, you used your own throwing knives and knocked the gun out of the mobster’s hand, then you proceeded to knock him out again with a few good punches to his noggin, maybe a few more, just for good measure. But this wound would need to be cleaned and stitched up. And if you went back to the Tower, Steve and Tony would give you an earful about “watching your surroundings” and “being more careful”. So in a moment of pure adrenaline and desperation, you texted Peter.

You: are you home

Spider-Dork: Yeah, why?

You: i’ll be there in 5

Spider-Dork: What? Why? Is everything ok?

Spider-Dork: Hello??? (Y/N)????

(Y/N) declined (3) calls

Spider-Dork: Answer my calls idiot.

Peter’s texting and constant calling was cut short from a crash in his room.

“(Y/N)? Is that you?” Peter called from the couch in the living room.

“Yeah, can I borrow a t-shirt?” You called, fumbling around accidentally knocking over another lamp. “Oops, sorry!”

“Uh, yeah sure. In the closet!” Peter called back pausing his show, prepared to make his way over to you.

“And some sweats?” You called back, blood dripping all over Peter’s hardwood floor.

Peter got up to make his way to his room. “Yeah, second drawer on the left side.” He said as he made his way to his bedroom. Knowing you were in there, most likely changing, he knocked. “You decent?”

“Nope, not really. I need a pair of your boxers too, though.” You called through the door, now seeing that the blood splattered on your underwear as well. “Also, bring the first aid kit when you come in.”

‘What? Why?” Peter said in a more stressed tone, pushing his way into the room, completely ignoring the fact that you were very much not decent. “Holy shit.” He said seeing you out of your suit, in your bra and underwear, blood dripping down your right leg, pooling onto the floor. Your hand, red and bloody, pressed onto what he only assumed was the wound and blood seeping through your fingers.

“Bring a mop too.”

Peter ran out of the room to grab the first aid kit, plus some extra bandages and a cleaning solution. When he came back in he found you in the same state, standing in the middle of the room, eyebrows furrowed in pain, clutching your right thigh.

“What the hell happened?” He gasped, motioning for you to sit on his bed. You hesitated, not wanting to mess up his sheets. He seemed to notice your thought process quickly adding, “I have to wash my sheets anyway.”

“Gross.” You mumbled, scrunching up your face in disgust and finally settling down on his bed.

“Move your hand and tell me what happened,” Peter said kneeling on the floor next to the bed, positioned right at your hips. You removed your hand, bloody instantly seeping onto the bed. Peter winced looking at the hole in your leg, quickly grabbing the peroxide and dumping heaps of it onto your leg, much to your distaste.

“I got shot.” You stated as he cleaned the blood around the hole with alcohol pads.

“Well, no shit. I mean by who and how?”

“Mobster. Sneaky bitch got me while I was walking away.” You winced as Peter inspected the wound further.

“I need to stitch this up. Did it go all the way through?” He said lifting your leg to look underneath for an exit wound.

“Yeah.” Peter found the exit wound and held your leg up with one hand, pouring peroxide on the back of your thigh with the other.

“You have to be more careful, (Y/N)! This looks really nasty.” Peter scolded, setting your leg back down and prepping the needle and sutures. “What if this was in your chest? Or—or if you didn’t get here in time? You could’ve bled out!”

“Well sorry that I don’t have your stupid tingle to help me out when I’m being fucking shot at!” You yelped, gripping the bedsheets.

“You don’t need spidey sense, you need fucking common sense,” Peter mumbled, stitching his first suture.

“What the fuck did you just say?” You looked at him incredulously.

“I— uh, nothing.” Peter huffed, focusing back on stitching you up.

“This is your all your fault, to begin with!” You accused, shifting uncomfortably, due to the needle constantly being stuck into your leg. “You’re the one that begged me to go on patrol for you! You’re the dumb bitch that got caught watc—”

“Ok! Shut up! For God’s sake, you’re never gonna let me live that down.” Peter groaned, finishing up the last stitch. “Flip over.” He commanded, pushing at the side of your waist to help with the movement.

“Well, it was fucking dumb. Don’t you check to make sure nobody’s home? God, we all know you’re a vocal bitch too.” You said, fully situated on your stomach.

“What the fuck is that suppose to mean!?” He gasped, prepping another needle.

“You’re a sensitive boy.” You shrugged, wincing when Peter started his next stitch.

“I-I am not sensitive! I’m emotionally and physically staunch!” He defended, going in for another stitch.

You just raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Sure, whatever you say, babe.” You winked at him, blowing an exaggerated kiss.

“You're a jerk,” Peter mumbled, finishing up his stitching job. “A jerk with a fucked up leg.”

You hummed, quite amused. Peter got up and started to collect his medical supplies. He shuffled out of the room to put everything away. When he returned you were trying to get up and walk, wincing at every slight movement.

“Here, let me just—” Peter lifted you up, bridal style. A small yelp coming from you when a sharp pain shot through your leg. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Can you help me get dressed?” You said as he walked you over to his desk and set you down in his desk chair.

“Sure.” Peter blushed, painfully aware of your lack of clothes. He picked out some clothes from his closet and drawers. He helped you into them, wallowing in the uncomfortable silence, taking in each whimper and wince from you whenever he brushed against your thigh.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He sighed after you were all dressed. “This is my fault.”

You looked at his distraught face, feeling bad for initially blaming him for the events of tonight. “No, Pete. It’s fine. I should’ve made sure all of the guys were knocked out.” You put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“No, I should’ve been more careful when I was watching that stuff. I have my spidey sense, I would’ve been able to avoid getting shot. It’s not your fault that you didn’t get bit by a radioactive spider.”

“Pete, really, I’ll be better by next week anyway. It’s fine.”

Peter shook his head, sighing. “I just feel so bad, I shouldn’t have forced patrolling on you.” You hugged him and rubbed his back soothingly. “It’s my fault you got hurt.”

“Peter stop. It’s just an unfortunate accident.” You mumbled, hugging him closer. “It could’ve happened to anyone.”

“But it didn’t happen to just anyone (Y/N), it happened to you. And I caused it. I-I don't know what I’d do if something ever happened to you. What if it was worse?”

You sighed, pulling away from Peter and cupping his face, seeing the regret and shame pooling in his eyes. Without much thought, you pulled him closer, slowly connecting your lips in a sweet kiss. Truly getting lost in the feeling of his lips against yours, the feeling of perfection.

Peter’s eyes widened in shock for a moment, before he was kissing you back, reveling in the feeling he’s been dreaming about for months. You finally pulled away to catch your breath. Peter flushed at your actions, unable to stop the wide smile crossing his features.

“Sorry,” You mumbled sheepishly, “just needed to shut you up for a second.”

“Maybe I should talk more, just to see what happens,” Peter smirked, pulling you in for another shorter, but just as sweet, kiss.

You hummed against his lips. “I really like you. Even when you're a dumbass.” You sighed against his lips.

“The feeling is mutual.”

“Rude. I’m not a dumbass.” You gasped in faux offense.

“You’re the one with a bullet wound.” he deadpanned

“You’re the one who got caught watchin—”

“(Y/N)!”

#avengers #peter parker fluff #peter parker x avenger!reader #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman x avenger!reader #spiderman fluff #tom holland spiderman #marvel #marvel fic #peter parker fic

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landinoandco · 3 years

Text

Mick Schumacher x reader

A timely confession

Request from @gpiggy98

Warnings: fluff:)

Word count: 1.8 k

Rating: Teen and up

When Guenther had announced that Mick Schumacher was going to be joining the team - the whole of Haas were ecstatic. There were many ways to describe him, his kind and nurturing nature, his dedication to any job he sets out to do and his gentle manner that could put anyone at ease. As gutted as you were to not be Romain’s assistant going into the 2021 season, getting Mick was definitely going to make up for it. The day you were scheduled to meet him, to go over the pre-season press plan - you were excited to show him around, introduce him to the team and talk about the new challenges you were going to be facing together. What you hadn’t expected was the inability to form a proper sentence whenever he came near you - which, as his assistant proved to be less than practical.

“Hey, it’s lovely to meet you.” Mick had said when Guenther had introduced you that day.

“I - uh - likewise. I’m really looking forward to working with you this year.” You had stuttered. Never in your career before had you stuttered when introducing yourself - a pink flush creeped up your neck betraying you completely. Fortunately for your sake, Mick smiled innocently and shook your hand, when he clasped your hand in his you couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter.

Guenther watched on in amusement, obviously thoroughly enjoying the experience of you making a fool out of yourself.

After the tour - in which you had tripped over your words a fair few times - you said your goodbyes and trudged angrily up to Guenther’s office. Slouching on the chair in front of your desk, you sighed loudly. “What a day.” You uttered, pinching the bridge of your nose with your thumb and forefinger.

“How did it go?” Guenther asked, passing you a glass of water.

“I kept tripping over my words, to be completely honest with you it was slightly traumatic.” You replied honestly, taking the glass gratefully and taking a sip.

“You get the chance to work with Mick and you call it slightly traumatic?” Guenther mocked, the corner of his lips turning up.

“Tomorrow’s a new day - maybe I’m coming down with something.” You wiped your forehead in anguish.

As it turns out you were coming down with something but unfortunately it wasn’t really something that could be cured in a matter of days. You finally worked out what was wrong when Mick had asked you to grab a little bit of lunch with him before the first race in Bahrain. You had to keep reminding yourself that it wasn’t a date, it was for work and only work.

It was a well known fact that Mick was a heartthrob, a real life Prince Charming who drives cars for a living. His crystal blue eyes were seemingly easy to get lost in - perhaps that was half your issue. The way he was so softly spoken, lulled you into a trance. His mannerisms resembled that of a golden retriever pup and after that you realised - you were falling for Mick Schumacher.

You were sitting in a terraced cafe, looking over the city landscape near to where the track was. Picking on chips, as Mick asked about your career up to this point.

“What made you want to become an assistant?” He asked, passing you the plate of chips.

You picked one up and waved it at him, “I’ve always been in love with the sport and what better way to experience it first hand than work with the drivers. I could never have been one so join them, I suppose.”

“Did you ever race as a child then?” He asked, leaning onto his elbows, a lopsided grin plastered onto his face.

“I did for a while.” You nodded and took a bite of your chip.

“Maybe, during the summer break, we should go go-karting. Show me some of the good tracks in the UK.” He declared, completely oblivious to the effect it had on you. The familiar pink tinge that had gotten too used to creeping up onto your neck, the corner of your eyes crinkled as you gazed into his eyes.

“I would really like that.” You stayed transfixed, gazing longingly at him. If only he knew how you truly felt or even better - if he felt the same way. You knew he never could, at the end of the day he had been given an opportunity to drive in formula one and you knew he wasn’t going to let a girl he worked with distract him from that.

You cleared your throat and tore your eyes away from him - as much as it pained you - and stood up but as you turned back around, you realised that he was still watching you, his eyes glinted and the corner of his mouth quirked up.

“I suppose we should think about getting you back, wouldn’t want them thinking you’ve gotten lost.” You said, forcing a smile onto your face.

A few weeks later and it was time for the race in Imola, the rain was pouring down and the team’s strategists had re-grouped to come up with a strategy to fit in with the weather. Unlike for people at home, watching a wet race as part of a team was never enjoyable - the tensions thick throughout the race. Over the few weeks that you had been working with Mick, your feelings only grew stronger but since the season was well underway you found yourself spending more and more time with him. It was an impossible situation that you wished upon nobody.

You had never been good with nerves and that was clear as you paced up and down his room.

“Liebe.” It was his new nickname for you. “Why are you so stressed. When you start stressing, so do I and do you really want me to-” You stopped pacing and sat next to him, he placed his hand on your shoulder in an attempt to calm you. If anything it made you worse.

“I know, I’m sorry Mick.” You exhaled shakily and looked around the room. You had seen a fair few wet races in your time and not all of them had ended nicely, in fact the majority of the time someone ended up in the wall. “Racing in the rain always makes me nervous.” You looked down at your lap, toying with your fingers. You looked at him desperately, “Just promise me you will be careful.”

“Damn,” He whispered, “You know I was really considering driving off the track today. A little off-roading never hurt anyone.” He laughed at your horrified expression. “I’m only teasing, Liebe. You know I will be careful. Extra careful so I won’t get a telling off from you - or Guenther.” You allowed yourself to chuckle slightly, he nudged his knee with yours and tried to catch your eye but you deliberately avoided it, nibbling on your lip and furrowing your eyebrows.

He placed his finger under your chin and lifted it to meet his gaze then placing his hand either side of your face. Breath hitching in your throat and your heart having an absolute field day, you blushed profusely, once again unable to look away from his intense gaze.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked, you could feel his breath fanning across your face. You shut your eyes, hands clammy and you didn’t know whether you could trust your voice.

“I care about you.” You managed to stutter, your eyes still closed. At least this way, you couldn’t see his expression when he realised.

“I care about you, Liebe, but you already know this-” He began carelessly.

“No, Mick.” You opened your eyes, his brows knitted. “I care about you more than I should.” Your tone was hushed, his eyes flickered with realisation, his mouth curved into a beaming grin. He moved his face so your lips were only a tantalizing distance from each other, “Why didn’t you say so sooner.” His lips brushed yours as he spoke and when you didn’t answer he closed the distance. Capturing your lips with his, it was like two puzzle pieces had been put together.

There was a knock at the door and the pair of you jumped apart - a voice called out: “Mick it’s time to head to the track.”

Reluctantly he got up, brushing down his race suit and held out his hand to help you up - instead of letting go once you got to your feet, he proceeded to pull you into his chest. “We shall talk about this after the race, Liebe.” He kissed the tip of your nose and walked out the door, leaving you lost for words behind him. You could still feel the ghost of his lips on yours, relishing in the events of a couple of moments ago - playing it over and over again in your head.

It was a tense 2 hours in the Haas garage - the race far from lacking action; with Latifi crashing into the wall on lap one then on lap four Mick losing the backend of his car whilst under the safety car and crashing into the exit of the pitlane. Fortunately with a new front wing he was able to carry on and finished the race 16th. They weren’t the only two to crash as Bottas and Russel came together - even Hamilton ran off the road. Imola was proving to be savage in the rain.

As soon as Mick crossed the finishing line, the whole garage relaxed, hugging and cheering. He had matched his result from Bahrain and managed to finish in front of Nikita. As far as Haas was concerned - it was a successful day. As his assistant you were to meet him at Parc fermé to take him to his weigh-in and post-race interviews. As soon as he saw you he took his helmet off and wrapped you into his arms, your feet coming off of the floor. You giggled and placed your hands either side of his face.

“I was as careful as I could be.” He assured, a smirk toying at the corner of his lips. You shook your head at him, your mouth curved into a wide smile.

“You did a good job.” You said to him, he wrapped his arms around your waist - pulling you closer into him. Then he dipped his face and connected your lips, rain falling around you. It was atmospheric and cheesy all at the same time.

There were wolf-whistles and cheers around you, as passing drivers walked by. You pulled your face away, both of your cheeks resembled tomatoes but it didn’t really matter. You knew you could never be happier with Mick by your side.

They say home is where the heart is and as long as you were with Mick - you were home.

#f1 #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher one shot #mick schumacher fanfic #f1 x reader #f1blr #f1 2021 #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula one one shot #formula one fanfiction #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one #mick schumacher

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azureflight · 2 years

Text

The Legend of Vox Machina Tin Foil Hat Theory: No real death will happen until the one in the end

Alright people, I know that title reads like gibberish, I apologize. I was trying to be as vague as possible in order to avoid spoiling things too much for show only fans. With that said, be warned, massive spoilers for Campaign 1, way beyond any points covered in the animated series.

SPOILERS FOR CAMPAIGN 1 *

Okay, now. What I mean here is that none of the VM will truly die, until Vax’ death in “Race to the Tower”. Several of the important deaths that occur in the story, will instead be really heavy “near-death experiences”, with the only real death being the Vax’s. I also believe majority of the deaths will simply not happen, and we will simply focus on a few key ones that were major turning points for characters or the overall plot. The rest will at most, get a nod in the form of someone getting heavily injured or almost dying to something and making a comment about it.

My reasoning for this goes like this:

While death still carries weight in the game due to Matt’s resurrection rules, this is unfortunately not something that translates well into a scripted story. In the game, we know anything can happen, because of the roll of the dice. In the show, people will never get that feeling no matter how much meta info is dropped on them. Within the animated show itself, everything feels pre-arranged, so any resurrection will always feel cheap.

While I believe you can absolutely write a story with the generous resurrection system of 5e and still make stakes high and risks compelling, I’m afraid TLOVM did not go that route in the first season and now it’s too late to establish such a thing. Mind you, no show on tv ever managed that yet either, so this isn’t really a point against tlovm, just that this aspect of TTRPGs and fantasy settings is yet to be properly translated onto screen.

Most of the deaths, are results of HP/DS based game mechanics and don’t have any impact on the story beyond the momentary stress it caused the cast and the viewers.

The “important deaths” as I call them, would actually translate into non-death events pretty well and would carry that weight in the animated series in a way that they wouldn’t if they were left as death-resurrection.

The way I see it, we have three important deaths in C1, other than Vax. We have Vex in “The Sunken Tomb”, we have Percy in “Cloak and Dagger”, we have Scanlan in “The Deceiver’s Stand”. Each of these deaths represent a massive turning point in character’s own journey and the overall plot itself.

The first one is obvious. Vax offers himself to the Raven Queen, starting off the Fate-Touched plotline which shapes entirety of his character arc, eventually tying into the very ending of his journey and the story of Vox Machina. Vex herself has a change of perspective and approach, becoming bolder, more carefree, trying to learn to forgive, open up more and work through her trauma and inner conflicts.

Percy’s death is essentially the true closing chapter of his previous arc lingering since Whitestone-Briarwoods. His forgiveness of Ripley with his dying breath, his friends saving his soul from Orthax and Vex’ love confession bringing him back to life. This is the end of his descent and the start of his recovery. Launching of a major romance that builds up the conclusion of both his and Vex’ personal journeys.

Scanlan’s death against Raishan and the aftermath of his resurrection is when he finally get the development that has been hinted at since the start. All of the subtle tension building up throughout the series, the insults, the self-doubt, the desperation, all of it blow up in one infamous rant. We temporarily lose Scanlan completely in the story and instead given Taryon as a character in his place. It is one of the major events that turn the ever tense relationships of VM, solidly into one of found family, albeit a a bit dysfunctional one.

I believe, all of these can be near-death experiences, “almost dead/stuck in purgatory” type of deals:

Vex’s is obvious and they almost laid down the ground work for it in season 1 with the spinning orb of death in Ziggurat. Audience is familiar with the concept of magic failing and some places not allowing normal healing etc. The Sunken Tomb, the domain of the Goddess of Death, not allowing her to heal after Percy triggers the trap, and her slowly fading away pretty much like how Keyleth was depicted in season 1, only for this time, there is no safe place to retreat and instead the entity in charge, Raven Queen, appears, and Vax, who was also desperate to save Keyleth and kept trying till the last moment, offers himself up in a bargain.

Percy gets shot, so far so good. We already know his deal with Orthax and how his gun feeds him souls. Now he is on the receiving end with Ripley’s deal and gun. Again, they try to heal him, it doesn’t work. They realize Orthax has his soul because gun shot. They banish Orthax, Vex calls out to Percy as they try to heal him one more time. He decides to “come back” from the weird pocket dimension of Orthax instead of passing on.

Scanlan almost dies, is in a coma. We first get all panicky, but after his “life” is secured, the party goes on to do stuff, as he sleeps in essentially intensive care, pretty much what they did in campaign. He blows up after he wakes up, just like in the campaign. we may even get a glimpse of Scanlan in drug/magic induced healing sleep, seeing dreams and getting more hints about his inner turmoil.

What does these changes achieve?

They keep the stakes high throughout the series, without trivializing death itself. It prevents the age old, in my opinion silly, yet stil prevalent complaints of “if they could resurrect X there, why not Y here?”

It lulls the audience into a false sense of security. They know the characters can be in danger and be injured, they will have tasted the drama and emotional weight of all those “close calls”. But ultimately no one died, so “everyone will be ok in the end” will be the common sentiment towards the end.

And then BAM! Vax actually, literally dies. No close-call, no near death. My boy literally gets disintegrated. The shock, the fear, the pain. And then, again the audience will be sure “oh no way, they will find a way right?”

And yes, we do have a “way”. But there is a catch! It is not permanent, it is gonna pass once the mission is done, or the year is over. That anguish and hope we all had, that all of VM had to deal with, the theories and speculations, will properly translate to the audience.

And in the end, when he is not saved, when there is no gimmick, when the Wish is used on the Whispered One and the VM saves the world, but Vax is lost forever... It will be the epic bittersweet ending that was the legend of Vox Machina. It will be adapted not only in the sense of the events being depicted, but truly. They will do justice to the hearth and the soul of the story.

Or they will find a way to depict all those resurrections without feeling gimmicky/plot armor/asspull in a scripted narrative, and we will all enjoy it together.

The reason I call this “tin foil hat”, is because while I am certain most of the deaths will simply not be adapted, I believe the three important deaths I mentioned here can still be adapted in a way that does not cheapen death, at least not by much. I just think this is a far more neat and clean “solution” to the “resurrection in D&D games not translating well into scripted format” problem.

#critical role #campaign 1 spoilers #tlovm #Vox Machina #critical role spoilers

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