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leiawritesstories · 1 year

Text

Stick Season (Prologue)

hey everyone! this is the introduction to a fic that I'm planning to post for Rowaelin Month! it got really out of hand lol so I'm splitting it into a few parts. inspired by "Stick Season" by Noah Kahan. hope you enjoy! :))

Word count: 757

Warnings: none ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three years ago

Aelin had to force herself to keep ahold of the steering wheel even as laughter-tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. “Gods, Ro, I’m driving! You’re gonna make me pee myself!”

“I’ll be doing much more than that, Fireheart,” her boyfriend purred, his demeanor switching from hilarity to sultry promise in the blink of an eye. Though he was on the other end of the phone and she couldn’t actually see him, Aelin could picture the precise tilt of his wicked grin, the precise gleam of the spark in his deep pine eyes.

“You’re incorrigible.” She caught her breath, firmly focusing on the highway. “I’m nearly there, buzzard. You shouldn’t have any problems keeping it in your pants for another twenty minutes, hmm?”

His soft groan rumbled through her phone. “You could make it in fifteen minutes if you speed.”

She snorted. “It’s December, Ro, and I’ve lived in Vermont all my life. I’m not stupid enough to try and speed on winter roads.”

“Yeah.” He inhaled softly, about to say something else, when another incoming call buzzed across Aelin’s screen.

“Shit,” she swore. “Ro, it’s my mom, I have to take this. I’ll call you back in a few minutes, I promise. Love you.”

“Love you,” he returned, affectionately.

She hung up and accepted her mom’s call. “Hi.”

“Darling.” Evalin Ashryver’s refined accent filled the front of Aelin’s car. “You must be nearly home by now, yes?”

“Yes, I’m about twelve minutes away from Rowan’s exit.” She glanced at the nearest exit sign. “I’m going to swing by his house for a few minutes before I–”

“You’re going to your boyfriend’s house before your own home?” Evalin didn’t even try to hide her disapproval.

“I promise it will only be a quick stop to say hello and reassure Rowan that I haven’t died.” In return to her mother’s disdain, Aelin made no effort to muffle her sarcasm.

“Watch your tone, young lady.” Evalin’s voice was as frosty as the December temperature. “I would be lying if I said I don’t mind you putting your own family second.” Without waiting for a response, she sniffed. “Hopefully we’ll see you by dinnertime, Aelin.”

Guilt wrapped its oily, barbed tendrils around Aelin’s heart and squeezed, sending flashes of thick, ugly emotion through her body. She gripped tightly to her composure, took a few deep breaths, and redialed Rowan.

He picked up on the first ring. “That was quick.”

“You know how Mom is,” Aelin joked. “She’s never seen a conversation she can’t cut short.”

Rowan coughed out a laugh. “She wants you to go home first, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah.” Aelin sighed. “Honestly, I don’t understand her phobia; she knows full well that I mean it when I say I’m just stopping for a few minutes.” Silence fell for a moment. “You know you mean more than anything to me, Ro. More than all the distance between our houses.”

“Yeah, all ten miles,” he chuckled. “You must be just about at the exit now, right?”

She glanced out the window. “Mhmm, it’s coming up in a couple minutes, and…” Her voice trailed off, drowned out by the discordant echo of her mother’s words. You put your own family second. Disappointing. Selfish.We hardly even see you, Aelin.

Rowan’s exit approached, the familiar numbers tugging on every string of Aelin’s heart. Tears fogged up her vision, but she blinked them away despite her throat constricting again.

“Fireheart?” Rowan’s voice was so warm, so familiar, so concerned. “Are you still there?”

A sob clawed its way out of her throat. “I’m…I’m so sorry,” she croaked. Her weak, traitorous voice cracked on the last syllable. Blindly, she reached over and ended the call, cutting Rowan off before he’d even formed coherent words.

She drove past his exit, only daring to look into her rearview mirror when she was far enough past the sign that the numbers were barely visible, and watched the sign fade away. Through the hazy, conflicted mess of heartbreak, anguish, guilt, and tears clouding her senses, Aelin let muscle memory take over and guide her off the freeway at the next exit and drive down another country road until she was back in her charming little hometown.

She hadn’t seen Rowan waiting in his battered old green pickup in the shoulder of his exit, eyes locked on the highway, phone still glued to his ear, staring in heartbroken disbelief as the woman he loved so deeply drove straight past him without a single look back.

~~~

TAGS: let me know if you want to be tagged!

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@chronicchthonic14

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

#my writing #stick season #stick season the fic #inspired by the noah kahan song #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fanfic #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass fanfiction

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deyadee · 1 year

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I haven’t been able to write any posts on my phone recently because I cracked the screen and I just LOVE when companies need to actively fuck up older equipment to force you to buy new phones and shit. I’ve had this phone since my 16th birthday, so yes it might be old but it worked fine for half a year after cracking the bastard. It started with not being able to type specifically the letter E but then it spread across half the fucking keyboard so I can’t type E, D, S, R, X, or C. I have to use the fucking voice command for goddamn everything on it now and it makes doing anything a four fucking hour process. I feel even more lonely than usual because I can’t even go on the discord chat with my two only online friends.

Anyway, I don’t know what I’ve posted about and I what I haven’t so I’m just going to bitch about everything in order of what I remember not posting.

I spent nearly two months meticulously planning on going to a pride street fair with the cute girl at the front desk and surprisingly she said yes. So over the course of a few weeks I would show up pretty much every day I could find out she was there and ask if everything was still good to go on the meetup. I was so excited, I finally felt like I was worthy, like I finally had a friend or that I wasn’t a complete waste of human meat for once in my pathetic ass life. So, after everything was planned out down to the last detail I showed up the day before we were supposed to go to make sure we were still good... and that’s when reality had to prove to me that no matter what I did I am not destined to have even a fleeting day of happiness.

She told me that she might not be able to go because of last minute car trouble and just remembering that tomorrow was her mother’s birthday. She said she try to work it out and text me early in the morning the next day. Now, I can understand the car trouble but who the hell forgets their mom’s birthday until literally the day before? SHE LIVES WITH HER MOM. I’m not good with dates either but it all came off as kind of flakey. She did seem genuinely sorry that she couldn’t go but it still had this underlying feeling of “Oh thank god I don’t actually to spend a fucking whole day with you.” I tried to smile and pretend it was alright but when I got home I just fucking broke down. Of course this had to happen. I try to reach out and make a connection, try to make myself not feel like a complete fucking social outcast from people my own age and this is what happens of fucking course. But I still got up and got ready the next day, still grasping to the pathetic delusion that even in the last second something might fucking go right. I called off work two months ahead of time. I planned all this out. This piece of shit event had to be at least somewhat fair to me right?

She said she couldn’t go. So my parents offered to drop me off so I could go by myself. And boy, is it really fun to look around and see all the happy fucking couples and people having fun with their friends while I’m creeping around trying to pretend I’m on the same social level as all these people. I was overwhelmed at first but got used to it, and anytime I got near anyone who wasn’t trying to sell me some stupid shit I was looked at either like I was a hideous sweating fucking pig parading herself around for all to see at the church picnic or like I was some creepy dude in his forties trying to sniff girl’s hair. I bought some earrings and hung out, but it just was a subtle reminder that I’m not like other girls of my age. I’m not getting a partner, going out to events, and figuring out how I want to make a difference in this shit world- I am an ugly repulsive wall of blubber leeching off of her parents and drowning her self-pity in children’s media and whatever shit I can shove down my fucking throat.

I felt a bit better afterwards because my dad asked me to go with my family to this restaurant to meet this family that goes to my little sister’s dance studio. He particularly wanted me to go because he said the dad was annoying and said all this shit about how shitty and rude LGBT people are for whatever reason and how he’d “beat the shit out of them if they ever tried that shit on him.” So I of course was like “Yes, I would love to.”

Which, nothing was more funny than when I walked in, wearing a rainbow shirt, rainbow hat, rainbow scrunchie, and asexual/gay pride bracelets and just saw him nervously look me up and down. I noticed he tried to avoid any conversation whatsoever with me, and how any time my dad would say anything about me he’d look away. It was even more fun to give his daughter (who was really sweet btw) a pink bottle of bubbles that I got from the pride street fair.

That happened a while ago, but why did I particularly want to make a post today? Well it was a bit of a story.

I just remember seeing a cute redhead with glasses and knowing I had to talk to her. We spent all night talking and though she was a bit more of a hipster than my kind of style, it was like we were meant for each other. I couldn’t look away when she was in the room and the hours we spent together felt like seconds. At the very end of it all we sat at the foot of my bed, holding hands, and we leaned in towards each other and... I woke up.

It was all a dream. All a fucking dream. She felt like the greatest thing to happen to me. It felt so real. When I woke up I genuinely thought we were going to spend another day together. Until I realized that I need to turn off my alarm and go to work. She never existed. I was never even slightly appealing to even the lowest common denominator, let alone someone like her who felt like she was ripped right from a movie... which I mean basically she was. I kept trying to think about her, but more and more details were slipping away. I couldn’t remember her name. I didn’t know how we met. Yet, I couldn’t feel sad because I could still feel her warmth on me, her cold hands. The feeling she left within me. Even when I knew she wasn’t real I couldn’t stop smiling. Even now I can’t even process that she doesn’t exist. I’d rather believe her to be dead than to think we never crossed paths. She made me feel like I was the most special person in the world. That every tiny detail of this fucking shithole world isn’t built just to make us suffer. She made not even question that life was worth living, that every horrible thing that happened was worth it as long as we had this moment to be together. I can’t even think of other people now, all I can think of is her. I miss her, yet she’ll never come home.

I heard this story on one of the thousand Youtube videos I watch everyday where this guy got knocked out and lived an entire life with having a wife and two kids until he noticed that this lamp didn’t look right and he eventually realized everything in his past seven years of life was fake. He went through a deep depression knowing that his family never existed. I wouldn’t say mine is anywhere near as extreme but, I can’t help feel like I actually spent that day with her. I still feel that comfort she left me with like everything in the world was alright. I’ve never felt like this with anyone else, and now I’m scared I’ll never feel it again. But this is still not why I made this post.

I tried to ignore it for the rest of the day and about ten minutes before I got off of work I had nearly forgotten, when this group of three girls came up to checkout. They had streamers, plates, table covers, regular stuff for a party so I asked what kind of party it was for. They said “Oh, we’re just grabbing a few things to surprise our friend for her 21st birthday we’re gonna take her out!” and something in me just cracked because all I could say was “Oh that’s great.” and try to check them out as fast as possible. These girls in front of me were 21. These cute girls having the time of their lives on the beach with their friends is what the average girl would be doing at this point in their lives. So what am I doing? Obsessing over a girl I had to dream up to cope with a lack of affection and attention. Working at a fucking dollar store. Still no college classes. Living with my parents. Still not a fucking clue what to do with my life besides wallow and cry over the fucking waifu I never had. Guess my fucking neckbeard status is complete. I’m fucking sitting in my bedroom, typing for nearly an hour and a half now, full on fucking weeping because I’m fucking pathetic and so goddamn irredeemable in every fucking way that I’m dreaming of girls. It’s so fucking fun to be idealistic and want to hope that things will get better and that all people deserve love and all that hippie shit but I just have to face it. “Certain girls are meant to be alone”

Why can’t I build an endless dream where I can be confident? Where I can have her, and she can have me? Where I can finally be happy and not just questioned why I too lazy and too much of a pussy to just fucking do it already? I’m an atheist, but I’d rather take my chances in possibly finding an afterlife with her than staying here for another forty years until I die of a heart attack from eating myself to death and reluctantly marrying some shitbag abusive stain of goddamn man because I think I have no other fucking option. I’d rather die now just to have the chance to see her again than suffer a slow miserable death that the average hideous woman calls a life. Give me strength to take me there. Give me just one last moment with her again. I can’t do this anymore.

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candyredmusings · 2 years

Text

Grubba Gang Sentence Starters

aka shit my discord squad has said. Periodically updated.

Mostly crack + NSFT.

“STOP BEING HORNY!”

“I’M NOT BEING HORNY STOP GASLIGHTING ME!”

“Santa isn’t real and Jesus never happened.”

“CLEAR YOUR SCHEDULE BABY WE’RE GOING TO YANDERE DIVORCE COURT.”

“I’ll be having evil intercourse.”

“I prostate myself jingling miserably on the floor for nothing.”

“God I would stab a man for a dorito.”

“How many people have you put in Jigsaw traps? I’m not a cop by the way.”

“Wish my mans would call me Slupert Doobert.”

“THANKS! I’M GOING TO SMITE YOU FOR YOUR HUBRIS NOW!”

“Shut the fuck up none of you can truly understand barbie horse adventures mystery ride.”

“Bold of you to presume we talk about anything except getting nut in here.”

“ALL I WANTED WAS TO GET RAWED ON THE FIRST DATE AND YOU SAID NO LIKE SOME FUCKING GENTLEMAN-”

“My vore gets me bitches.”

“ [Name] we’re gonna watch the barbie movies and im gonna sell my nudes.”

“I don’t know about you but Santa Claus could SMASH.”

“Just kidding. I want to pull you apart like a twizzler.”

“Sometimes I crave that real flesh.”

“One minute you’re talking about nutting the next you’re talking about when you were 6 year olds and first learned the feeling of betrayal.”

“Gnomes WILL be held accountable for their crimes.”

“ Tsk. No cloaca. No meaning.”

“Are you gonna eat your girls pussy like some sort of democrat, or vore her like a man?”

“ I am the clown that entertains this nuclear wasteland of comedy.”

“Are you thinking about the gnome party?”

“[NAME] if there’s ONE thing i know about you it’s that you don’t wear pants unless absolutely necessary.”

“Damn. It was never as easy as blues clues made it seem!”

“I’m going to fucking cain and abel you.”

“IM REQUIRED BY LAW TO SUCK HIS DICK NOW-”

“Your ass is grass and I’m an ape.”

“Hey anyone wanna fuck.”

“Not to flex on you but im something of a manlet.”

“I’m on a sexual clown journey.”

“Post the image, you stupid fruit.”

“God I gotta say I do love being me sometimes? Because I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me.”

“It’ll be fine. Ain’t you ever seen Hamilton?”

“Can we stop talking about my asshole?”

“It has been 2 days since our last slur.” / “it’s been 0 days since our last slur.”

“I’m ‘bout to be real with you, chief, I’m bout to bust them fucking kneecaps.”

“Will my life ever know peace?”

“Let’s just say if I had to see [NAME] in a police line up, well, I hope they can’t see through the mirror.”

“Let’s just say if I had to see Mr. Blobby in a police line up, well, I hope they can’t see through the mirror.”

“What the absolute FUCK have I walked into.”

“[NAME] comes within five feet of my pussy and I have to beat them away with a pool noodle.”

“I want cock. Now.”

“Shut the fuck up [NAME] there’s girls here!”

“IS [NAME] IN HEAT?”

“WE’VE BEEN ARGUING OVER [NAME]’S FEET FOR THREE DAYS.”

“Yes, love of my life? My Pizza Hut pan pizza? My 2 for 4 deal?“

“I’m probably gonna get hate for this, but, [NAME] is an absolute snacc.”

“You’re right. You are going to get hate.”

“For the love of God shut the fuck up.”

“In the past 24 hours you have said several horrible things to me.”

“I also want to see fat demon cock.”

“Gra ta ta swag bitch.”

“I’M HERE TO GET SEXUAL.”

“Please don’t call [NAME] sexy ever again.”

“Shut up, fruit.”

“GOD IS MY BITCH AND HE SUCKED MY DICK BEHIND A 7/11.”

“[NAME] I love you but what are you doing man?”

“Eat or I’ll send Steve Harvey after you.”

“I wanna be rammed so hard my anal cavity prolapses.”

“[NAME] if it was life or death would you yank the dildo outta my ass?”

“What’s the lore behind a dildo being in your ass and someone will die of circumstances because of it?”

“ NO!! THE POPE CANT BE HORNY!!”

“Don’t get me wrong, Lola bunny could take a jack hammer to my nuts and I’d thank her, but she also is the best basketball player ever.”

“[NAME]’s exquisite boobs will not protect him from feral [NAME] and that is a promise!”

“whats a little cum inflation among friends”

“On fridays we gaslight our white boys for enrichment.”

“Ain’t that the shit the lucky charms dude says? If you wanna find the fruit you gotta suck-o me nut? …or maybe thats fruit loops.“

"He’s shown feet, the next logical step is ass"

“[NAME] I got money on you crying right now. Not to freak you out, but -”

“I have RED VELVET in my BIG ASS TITTIES”

"Give this child a prison uniform I’m tired of him."

"Theres only so much i can do to stop white people"

“I DON’T CARE ABOUT SQUIRTING [NAME]”

"I LOVE ARGUING WITH MEN OVER THE INTERNET. MY PORES ARE CLEAR."

“I died in a tragic lip gloss accident and only by the grace of god do i live on.”

“You will never match his swag.”

“Hannibal is always based?”

“You know who else eats people? Christians. Grow up.”

“He’s gender-nonconforming as fuck with those eyelashses"

“I just fucked yo’ bitch in my Gucci clown drip.”

“She is to marry what we in the business call a little fucking freak.”

“TRY GETTING A JOB AT SCOOPS AHOY NOW YOU LITTLE FUCKING BASTARD!”

“The goal of art is to piss off as many people as possible.”

“I don’t know why I do the things I do, [NAME].”

"YOU HAVE THE GALL. TO COMPARE BEETHOVEN TO THE FUCKING BEATLES?!?"

“ I got heckled to sing Rainbow Connection."

“Do I make you horny, baby?”

“ WOW I GET IT! YOU’RE A WHORE I SEE NOW!”

“Wow, he looks like shit. I could suck him silly.”

“I could suck him silly.”

“Mommy? Sorry. Mommy? Sorry. Mommy? Sorry. Mommy? Sorry.”

"I could change jfk… WAIT AM I MARILYN MONROE?"

“Im so used to jumping in front of the gun that i didn’t realize the gun wasn’t loaded.”

“ this guy is like PG13 Hannibal. “

“you met me at a very frank floppa time in my life.”

"To put it simply you are the cave full of bluntsmoken and the world is your little german boy OoOO"

"I WANT YOUR GODDAMN SLOPPY JUST GIVE ME A MINUTE” -

“oh do not call him that ill cum on the spot”

“FUCK OFF. YOU’RE SICK.”

“NO ONE EMBARASS ME IN FRONT OF THE DOG!!”

“I don’t know why I do the things I do, [NAME].”

“well that was nice im gonna go walk some more until i die now"

"Love will always triumph."

”[NAME] BECAME ALLOSEXUAL FOR VENOM, WHY CAN’T YOU?“

”[NAME] BECAME ALLOSEXUAL FOR [NAME], WHY CAN’T YOU?“

"the fist of ‘87 thats what they call me.”

“the WORST SEX youve ever seen”

“My god i would shampoo his ball hair with my saliva …”

“ALL I HAD WAS LACTATION!"

“I’m Catholic so of course I rejected help, but and however…“

"i am a feminist and a woman-lover but first and foremost i am a hater"

"i love women but some of these bitches are boring-"

“I FAILED AT BECOMING RACIST.”

"YOURE NOT VAN GOGH BITCH!!!!"

“ i need cocaine ................. “

"........What Are We DOING?"

"If you were a pickle I'd eat you but i'd still love you”

“YOUR MENTAL ILLNESS MAKES YOU OBSESS OVER BOYS WELL MY MENTAL ILLNESS MAKES ME OBSESS OVER YOUR MENTAL ILLNESS.”

“bigfoot is sexy, [NAME]”

“you know what?? friendship IS magic.”

"i would suck off any of my friends"

“when gods choir sings, will bigfoot not be among them?”

“Call [NAME] a wedding cake the way im paying women to sit on him.”

“I WAS CHURNING THY BUTTER.”

“Hon hon baguette go to hell.”

“Avert thine lustful eyes away from my daughter, fiend.”

"AS A SOCIETY we should be making sure that women do not do be dying!!!"

“How many innuendos can we make in 3 minutes?”

“Yeah, no, I’m not in the habit of dropping slurs casually. I do it competitively.”

“She’s cute! Can’t wait to watch her get spitroasted.”

“We serve cunt here, sir.”

“Bitch I don’t like milk. Its White. Its NASTY—”

“I’m not going to suck him silly. This is serious to me.”

"if [NAME] looked like a drowned rat they wouldnt get nearly as much love.”

“Yes girl we explore Jesus.”

“i work in the tuberculosis ward, and I do occasionally peak into the polio ward but I won't go into the small pox ward ykwim”

“i hate penis when it’s normal you know what i mean”

“WHO THE FUCK HATED ON MY AUTISTIC SHAWTY”

“You’re afraid of unsalted nut but allow white penis into your body”

“I’m doing research on the clitoris”

"He has the gentle eyes of a baby cow and the face of bacon and he's my BEST FRIEND. "

#roleplay memes #inbox memes #sentence starters #rp prompts #inbox prompts #decided 2 take this off one of my rp blogs n put it here 2 be more easily accessible and not #clog my blog's notifs w this every time #POAKSDJF #candyredtext

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korasonata · 3 years

Text

I had someone last time ask me about time stamps, so all of these from this point out will have the time stamp at the top of each set of quotes. I am currently in the process of retrieving the time stamps for the previous 5 posts, and will link an updated version when I have retrieved them all.

Link to the video is here: https://m.twitch.tv/videos/1149389841

Favourite moments of Joe and Cleo model streams part 6!

(I am very sorry I tried very hard to make this not as long as it is. There will probably be another extended cut post because there was just SO much happening in this stream)

—

00:00:57

Cleo: Welcome to the stream. Mine and/or Joes. Or, both.

Joe: Yay!

Cleo: I suppose that’s what the “and” means. In that statement. That would make sense. Glue pot’s ready—

Joe: It makes sense to me.

Cleo: …that makes me even more nervous that it makes sense to you, Joe. Not gonna lie.

—

00:16:34

Joe: So, anyway, last night at dinner, uh, like I— I had put this interview on while I was cooking and I kinda left it on as my daughter sat down for dinner and I was like “hey, this is an interview with this very famous journalist from about 50 years ago. Uh, he’s got a really interesting voice and a really interesting cadence, and I wanna kind of listen to it so I can— maybe copy it as like a joke in one of my videos.” And my daughter listens to it for about a— a minute—

Cleo: And then says “now that’s— is that you?”

Joe: *laughing* She just turns to me and she’s like “my friend…her parents got her…did you know they make crayon applesauce now? It says crayola. It tastes. Like they’ve blended a brown crayon. And sprinkled it on top.”

Cleo: That sounds grim.

Joe (prideful laughing): And it just kind of matches the cadence while also talking about something terrible to ingest?*laughing* And I just start cracking up because like— *laughing continues* she gets it! And she’s just like “why are you laughing?” Because you just— you nailed it! You nailed the pauses, you— you nailed the subject matter, like this is— this is just great!! And she’s like “no! This is a real thing! This crayon applesauce is terrible!” And I’m just laughing and laughing and she’s like trying to explain why it’s not good, and I’m like “I understand why it’s not good, but—“

Cleo (reading chat): “Joe’s daughter is awesome.” I think you’re probably correct. Joe’s daughter is indeed awesome.

Joe: Yeah, I’m very very happy with my daughter. (Reading chat) What was for dinner? Well not crayola applesauce!

—

Cleo (in response to someone complimenting her 3rd Life videos): Awe! Thank you joytobake, that’s really nice! I am…always pleased when people like my personality. Because I’m never sure that people should, you know?

Joe: Yeah, that’s— that’s what we were talking about— I think before we started streaming, was like, Cleo really gets me, and that’s a huge red flag.

Cleo: That’s a— yeah. As a human being. Understanding Joe - massive red flag. Huge. This is a danger. To everybody. And particularly Joe.

Joe: It’s the terror of being truly known.

—

00:47:08

Joe: Up until this point I didn’t show the instructions, but now I feel like I have to.

Cleo: Because otherwise people are going to judge your competency?

Joe: Yeah! They’re gonna go “ok. Any idiot can figure out how these pieces go together” but if you look at these instructions, that’s not true. I’m a spectacular idiot, and I have no idea what I’m doing with these.

Cleo: I mean. I want— I want to confirm. Yes. Spectacular.

Joe: Yes. Thank you Cleo.

Cleo: *snicker* You’re welcome Joe. I always like to insult the people I care about the most.

Joe (quietly): I know…I appreciate it.

Cleo (Watching chat): I’m waiting for Cam to confirm that.

(Cam in chat: She insults me SO MUCH, she called me a gibbon last night…)

—

00:59:42

Joe: *reading tips*

Cleo (reading chat): “you can’t stop Joe when he’s on a role.” This is true.

Joe (not paying attention): *still reading tips*

Cleo: I mean you can, you just have to go: Joe. Joe. JOE. And then he stops sometimes.

Joe (quietly, but with emphasis): WHAAAAAAAAAAT??!?

Cleo: I’M DOING A THING!

—

01:00:46

Joe (reading tips): “This is an encouragement donation for more of you singing in the future.” Ooo, I think Cleo would like that because the future is not now.

—

01:02:23

Cleo (genuine singing): Ground control to major Tom…

Joe: *listening in awe*

Cleo: …That’s…pretty much all I know…

Joe: Oh, I was gonna let you keep going, I— I wanted to hear more.

Cleo: Oh no. That’s pretty much all I know.

Joe: But yeah. Hypothermic haddoc writes (singing) “tell my wife I love her very much!” …I was waiting for you to jump in with the (singing) “she knoooooows!”

Cleo: Again. Again, I don’t know the song very well.

Joe: Oh. And here I am sitting in my tin can—

—

01:47:54

Cleo: *leaves to get a drink*

Joe: While you’re getting your drink I guess I’ll provide some musical entertainment.

SILENCE

Joe: …I don’t have anything prepared. So, let’s see…do we have any birthdays? *laughing* if it’s anybody’s birthday I’ll sing to you while Cleo’s gone.

Cleo: I’m back.

Joe: Oh ok. Well, sorry birthday boys. And girls.

Cleo: feel free to sing to people. I’m sure people want that.

Joe: no…well, I was gonna do it while you were away cause I need to get up and get my drink as soon as you’re back.

Cleo: Oh, go and get a drink and I will sing happy birthday—

Joe: So I’m gonna go get my drink, I’ll be right back.

Cleo: —to people who have chosen to spend their birthday…here…I’m not judging, uh, but— (upbeat singing) Happy Birthday to you! You smell like a zoo! (Talking) …uh, etcetera etcetera… (Singing) I forgot how this song goes! Nevermind it sucks to be you! *blows a raspberry*

—

01:49:09

Cleo: I mean it’s Cams birthday on Saturday, and I will sing to Cam on his birthday. His birthday is not today. I mean he probably wants me to not sing to him on his birthday, to be fair—

[Cam: Please don’t sing to me]

Cleo: —but you know, I might do it anyway. Cause it’s obnoxious. And I will laugh. (Reading chat) “Happy Birthday! Here’s some genocide! Please don’t sing to me…” *laughing* I won’t sing to you if you don’t want me to, Honey.

[Cam: Not happy birthday at least lol]

Cleo: I might torture you in other ways though.

—

01:50:55

Cleo: Hiiiiii Jooooooe.

Joe: Hello! Joe Hiws hewe! I am back fwom my dwink bweak!

Cleo: …what is that voice?

Joe (in a Kermit the Frog/Swedish Chef/Yoda hybrid of an accent): I feewl wike it’s fwom home star wunner or something, I don’t know! It’s almost Kermit THe Fwog Hewe, but not quITe!

*Cleo laughing*

It’s a little— (Normal voice) I dunno. I still had some of my drink in my throat, so I was like— I didn’t wanna like accidentally cough it out on the microphone as soon as I started talking. So I was just like (weird voice continues) I’ll do thIS vOIce

*Squealing giggling from Cleo*

(Same iteration of previous accent now blended somehow with the voice of Goofy from Micky Mouse) It’ll keep my mOUth in a shape that if I start— me coughing up a dwink it’ll just go into the chEEks on EIther sIde. It’s a natuwal, uh bARRier against, uh, hydration escapism! Uh yuh!!

Cleo: *giggles* Ok Joe. Ok.

Joe: *high pitched laughing* I don’t know Cleo! I’m just gonna keep making noises until people give me money! It’s jus— it’s how I pay rent.

Cleo: *laughing* Making noises until people give you— ahhhh…..

Joe: Yeah

Cleo: — actually…..yeah. Yeah. Yeah…Um (reading chat) “it’s drunk Kermit” *wheezing*

Joe (drunk Kermit The Frog voice): It’s 5:00 somewhere!

Cleo: *laughing* thanks for this. I needed— I needed this moment of— of— whatever this was.

—

01:53:54

Joe: So my daughter said the most Wednesday Adams thing to me the other day—

Cleo: Oh no

Joe: Except she didn’t do the deadpan delivery. She was very upbeat about this. So apparently “UP” has, on Dinsey+ a series of shorts about the old man and the dog. Right? And they’re called something like “a Dougs Life” cause Doug is the name of the dog

Cleo: yeah.

Joe: and she goes “oh! And it’s short! Like a dogs lifespan!”

SILENCE

Cleo: …Your…kid is very much your kid, you know that right?

Joe (proud dad): I know right?!

—

01:58:20

Cleo: I mean…you’d kill it at the Met Galla. Not gonna lie.

Joe (excited): Oh my god— I wanna get one of those Manuel suits that has like all the rhinestones and the flowers on it? Um, but, you know, like, those are very expensive.

Cleo: We live with what we can afford. Maybe someone can make you a Diamond encrusted suit that you can wear on camera. And have all the sparkles as green.

Joe (very excited): Oh my gosh— actually— so—

02:20:45

Joe: Meanwhile in my Discord everyone’s posting what they describe as “eye searingly beautiful” lime green wedding dresses. For my next wedding. Um—

Cleo: *snicker* is that what you’re wearing for your next wedding?

Joe: you know, honestly at this point I don’t wanna make any assumptions about anything.

Cleo: *cackling*

—

02:31:07

(This is context for the next one)

Cleo (reading chat): “some people have too much time on their hands” I mean, I personally would not drive 8 hours to see— um…

Joe: …me?

Cleo: I dunno, I might drive 8 hours to see you.

Joe: I offered to drive 8 hours to see you when you were coming to Disney and you said no, so I’m gonna assume that you would not drive 8 hours to see me.

Cleo: I mean, I— li— the key word there was “might”. I wou— I would have to have my mini frea— well I was freaked out at that point. When you offered, and and I was just like “oh god no.” Because, you know, social anxiety is a thing.

Joe: Mhm. I’ve heard of that.

Cleo: Yeah. And I do not do well particularly meeting people for the first time, even people I’ve known for a while. I go very very quiet and umm…I think it’s worse actually with people that I’ve known for a while? Um, online, um…because— cause my brain goes “well you’re gonna make a s—your, your— your going to do something and say something stupid. You going— they’re gonna hate you in real life” um…so, yeah. My brain absolutely freaked out at that moment.

—

02:34:12

Cleo: But, you know, like I say, I get hate mail on the regular, it’s fine. I mean part of that is daring to be a woman on the Internet, but only part. The other part is the fact that I’m also an awful human being. So, you know.

SILENCE

Cleo: …the silence isn’t doing— the silence doesn’t do you— do me any favours Joe.

Joe: Well, you know, I didn’t wanna talk over you when you’re sharing your insecurities.

Cleo: yeah….

Joe: That seems rude.

Cleo: I mean—

Joe: So I wanted to make sure you were done.

Cleo: no no no no, that’s fine. I’m always done Joe.

Joe: And nOW I can actually tell you how I really feel.

Cleo: No, please don’t. Not onl— no. That will— that will make me even more uncomfortable.

Joe (upbeat singing): The praise train is on its way!! Choo choo!!

Cleo: Noooooooooooooooooo!! Nooo!!

Joe: For Cleo it’s her day!! Choo choo!!

Cleo: *noises of distress*

Joe: Cleo is really great!! Choo choo!! Choo choo!!

Cleo: *distressful crying*

Joe: She’s not merely ok!! She doesn’t have to be the best at talking to people for the first time!! Cause they’ll love her anyway!! And sometimes they’ll even rhyyyme!! Yay for Cleo!!

Cleo: *physically going through a full body cringe* noooo

Joe: See, it would have been rude if I did that in the middle of your thing.

Cleo: *sob laughing*

Joe: That would not have been socially acceptable.

Cleo (through tears): I’m not even sure it was socially acceptable now.

Joe: WHY NOT?!

Cleo: (sobbing and laughing simultaneously) I hate you so much.

—

02:38:05

Cleo (reading chat): “We all need a Joe in our life, who sings a theme song for us when we’re talking ourselves down” I’m not sure you do.

Joe: Yeah, that wasn’t really a theme song? Like, if I was gonna do a theme song for Cleo—

Cleo (with immense dread): Oh no…no…no…

—

02:43:07

Joe: I’d just like to point out (very obnoxiously high pitched voice) That this is Cleo’s average person voice, which means that 50% of people have an even higher pitched voice!

Cleo: …You know, I can’t actually stab Joe through the Internet. And I’ve always been upset about that.

—

02:53:36

Joe (with all the enthusiasm of a 16 year old girl gossiping at a slumber party): Ooo I wanna ask Cleo about giiiiiirls!!!

Cleo: Ask me about girls! I’m— I’m happy for you to ask me about girls.

Joe: Ok, so, do you— do you feel comfortable saying what your specific, uh, type of woman is? I’m— I’m curious about that.

Cleo: Um, it’s— it’s nerdy girls? Specifically. Umm…not too, um…you know, the kind of running, climbing, you know— sort of— person. You know, it’s— it’s the sort of— it’s the sort of— action girl kinda thing. I kinda like that type. That’s sort of my type.

Joe: Mhm. Yeah, like—

Cleo: Why, what’s your type of girl?

Joe: Well, uh, usually it’s somebody that is— very anti authority— un— un— dissatisfied with the status quo. So usually more punk, or that sort of thing.

Cleo: Yeah. That’s— that’s— that sort of plays into the action girl sort of thing as well. Yeah I get that. So yeah.

Joe: yeah, umm, you— yeah so I don’t know. Um— so not necessarily, uh, as focused on the athleticism element there, but I know like—

Cleo: Well it’s not really athleticism, it’s— it’s more— it’s more—

Joe: —in terms of like, um, hiking, cause like, uh, you know in college there’s like a climbing and camping club or whatever—

Cleo: Oh yeah, it’s not that sort of person. It’s— it’s more, um…getting out and having a go at things. Like, you know, not— not being afraid to—

Joe: Adventurous

Cleo: Yeah! Adventurous! That’s the word!

—

Cleo (whispering): I don’t know where this bit goes! *gasp* it goes over there!

Joe (whispering): You can do it!

Cleo: I can do it! I believe in me!

Joe: You’ll find a place to glue it! It doesn’t necessarily have to be the right place!

Cleo: I know!

Joe: You’re equally valid regardless!

Cleo: Thanks Joe!

Joe: You’re welcome!

Cleo: It’s appreciated!

#hermitcraft #hermitblr #zombie cleo #zombiecleo #joehills #joe hills #long post

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thebiscuiteternal · 3 years

Text

“Paper Scraps”

Post-Canon, Angst, Hurt/Comfort...ish?, Reconciliation, Discussion of Suicidal Ideation, Ghosts, Implied Sangyu, Mo Xuanyu Gets To Be Mourned, Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang Are Going Through It

Series Link on Ao3

__________

"To what do I owe the surprise visit?'' Nie Huaisang asks, and his voice is so devoid of emotion that Wei Wuxian has to bite back a shudder, suddenly very much aware that he is treading in completely new and potentially dangerous territory.

Nie-xiong is as dead as his beloved elder brother, and the Headshaker was nothing more than a mask. All that's left now is Nie-zongzhu, whom he knows nothing about and threatened the last time they actually spoke to each other in person.

Still, he sucks up his nerve and plasters on one of his usual careless smiles. "We need to talk, you and I. Just you and I."

"Wei Ying-"

He holds up a hand to cut off Lan Zhan's protest. "How about it?"

"And what, exactly, do you think there is for us to discuss, Wei-xiansheng? Have I not been behaving well enough for your liking?"

Ouch.

"Okay, I deserved that," Wei Wuxian says as he waves off his defensive husband and friend a second time, suddenly wishing he'd just snuck out and come alone.

Then again, that probably wouldn't have gone well either, judging by the wary looks he keeps getting from the handful of Nie disciples who linger defensively near their sect leader.

Okay... okay. No more trying to joke around. He takes a deep breath and lets it out, then straightens his back. "I'm here about Mo Xuanyu."

Nie Huaisang’s face betrays nothing, but the fan in his hand snaps shut with enough force that it's audible throughout the room. “Everyone, please escort our other two guests to the main gardens so that we may speak privately.”

“Zongzhu-” one massive bear of a man starts to protest.

At the same time Lan Zhan moves in front of Wei Wuxian to growl “We are not going anywhere,” and the tension in the room ratchets sharply to hair-on-end levels as the situation threatens to turn into a standoff.

Wei Wuxian pinches the bridge of his nose to stave off a building headache, then reaches out in an attempt to tug his husband back. “Lan Zhan. I’m the one who requested a one-on-one meeting, remember? Literally just now?”

“He cannot be truste-”

“Wei-gongzi, he might-”

“Enough,” Nie Huaisang snaps, the unexpected whip-crack of his voice making them all, a few disciples included, jump. “Let me remind all three of you that you came here and none of you are required to stay. In fact, today would be much improved if you didn’t.”

“Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian hisses.

Lan Zhan doesn’t budge, hand still tight on the hilt of Bichen. “If you harm Wei Ying-”

“Yes, yes, you and the Ghost General will cut me open and hang me with my own entrails just to start with,” Nie Huaisang replies irritably, giving a dismissive wave of the closed fan. “I’m well aware.”

Judging by the startled and utterly appalled looks that cross Lan Zhan and Wen Ning’s faces, that had decidedly not been on the list of options of what they might potentially do. But the descriptive suggestion does work to knock them off guard, and Wei Wuxian bites his tongue hard to keep his expression neutral as the two of them are herded out without any more fuss after Nie Huaisang makes a short gesture to his disciples. “You did that on purpose.”

Nie Huaisang turns without responding to the jibe at all and walks off towards another door.

Ouch again.

He trots after the other man and falls into step beside him as they enter a hallway that’s clearly not for public use. Part of him wants to ask where they’re going, if just to break the uncomfortable silence, but he keeps his mouth shut.

They finally stop at a door that, when Nie Huaisang slides it open, leads to a tiny garden so deep in the sect's keep that the back wall of it is cut into the mountain itself.

And in that little carved out cave, shielded from wind and rain and snow, sits a funeral tablet on a table shrine.

Wei Wuxian involuntarily sucks a sharp breath through his teeth at the sight of it, his hand coming up to clutch at his chest. Guilt wells up hot and stinging and bitter in his stomach, then higher into his throat. Dizzy, he sways on his feet and is only vaguely aware of the hands that catch him.

Once his resurrection had been revealed, everyone simply accepted him as “Wei Wuxian”, not “Wei-Wuxian-In-Mo-Xuanyu’s-Body”, seemingly having just... forgotten that the face he has now once belonged to someone else. He had grown so settled into this body that until the dreams had begun, he had barely given Mo Xuanyu a second thought.

But right at this moment, staring at the name carved into that tablet, held up by the one person left who had remembered- had loved the original owner of this body enough to memorialize him, he has never felt more like an invader in it.

His vision, gone fuzzy from the sickening torrent of emotion, slowly begins to come back into focus and, for just a moment, he is staring through Mo Xuanyu’s eyes into the worried expression of Nie-xiong before the lingering memory clears to the more neutral face of Nie-zongzhu.

He is on the ground, his head in the man’s lap, and the sudden urge to cry hits him hard. “Do you hate me?” he asks without meaning to, voice coming out plaintive and half-strangled by his effort to hold back the tears.

“You were the one who decided there was nothing left between us worth salvaging.”

“I did. And it was stupid. But that’s not what I mean, and you know it. Do you hate me for having this face?”

There is a pause, then a quiet sigh. “No, I don’t.”

“Why?”

“If it wasn’t you, it would be someone else. Or something else. Yu-er was…”

Nie Huaisang turns his head away, expression softening into a complicated mix sadness and pain, and Wei Wuxian finds himself thinking that while ‘his’ Nie-xiong might be dead, Mo Xuanyu’s Nie-xiong might still exist somewhere deep under the protective layers of Nie-zongzhu.

He swallows hard, then makes himself sit up and looks again at the tablet and its small offerings.

“Determined,” he says quietly, finishing the sentence. A tiny wet laugh bubbles out of his throat. “I thought… I really did believe that you had forced him into it,” he continues, and in the edge of his vision, he sees Nie Huaisang flinch at the accusation. “But no. No. He... really was determined to see it out to the end.”

“How do you-”

“Ah.” He scratches his cheek, then scoots to face the other man. “That’s actually the reason I needed to talk to you. I’ve been seeing- fuck, dreaming his memories, I guess… though they were more like nightmares, considering what was in them-”

“Wait,” Nie Huaisang says, holding up a hand. “When did this start?”

“Mmh. Just a little over ten months ago, I think? Or maybe closer to eleven. The first one was of your visit right after his mother died.”

Nie Huaisang goes slightly pale at that, though whether it’s from the admission of the length of time or the contents of the memory, Wei Wuxian can’t tell.

He gets an answer when Nie Huaisang gets up and rushes to the table, returning with something carefully cradled in his hands.

It’s a spirit pouch.

His hands are shaking as he holds them out to accept the tiny burden, and he’s vaguely aware that he’s gaping like a fish. “Huaisang…” he chokes out when he finally manages to find his voice again, but that’s as far as he gets.

“I… have studied a lot of ways of finding and contacting the dead,” Nie Huaisang says, and Wei Wuxian nods along numbly because that makes a ridiculous amount of sense, given the circumstances. “I know what the ritual notes said, but seeing that there was still something left of Da-ge after everything that had been done to him…”

He reaches out and touches the pouch and Wei Wuxian finds himself thinking of a gentle hand ruffling his (but not his) hair.

“I’m just sorry it took me two years to get up the nerve to go looking.”

But you went, Wei Wuxian thinks. You went.

He’d never even considered it. It had never crossed his mind at all.

“Eleven months ago, right?” he asks, voice still a little squeaky.

“Mm-hmm. I should have written to you about this long before now, but it seemed like every time I’d prepared myself to send the letter, something would happen that would remind me that… well.”

That we’re not friends anymore.

That you want nothing to do with me.

Wei Wuxian closes his eyes and rests his hands in his lap, still holding the pouch as if it’s made of porcelain instead of cloth. “I probably wouldn’t have read it,” he confesses quietly. “Or I would have, but I wouldn’t have believed you. I would have thought it was a ruse, a setup-” A tiny, wounded laugh escapes his mouth and he tilts his head back to stare up at the sky. “Maybe that’s why I started having the dreams. His way of telling me I’m an idiot.”

“A little drastic on his part if it was.”

“Can’t say it wasn’t necessary.” The pouch gives a jangling, discordant little hum when he pets it, the fracturing of the soul within vastly different from what he’d felt from Xiao Xingchen. The pieces feel smaller and fewer, yet heavier. “Oh,” he murmurs when he realizes why.

“Oh?”

“The array was designed to consume the resentment of the caster based on negative memories of the person or persons they wanted to curse. That’s why the memories of you and the flashes of his mother were so vivid when the rest of them weren’t. That’s why you were able to find these pieces. He really did see you two as the only bright spots in his life, so those memories were spared.”

Nie Huaisang makes a choked noise in the back of his throat, and when Wei Wuxian turns his head, the other man is looking away in a clear attempt to hide his expression. “He was wrong.”

“A year ago, I would have agreed,” Wei Wuxian mumbles. “After everything he showed me, though… I don’t think he was. I get it.”

He takes a deep breath. He has never talked about this, not with Lan Zhan, not with Wen Ning, and certainly not with Jiang Cheng, even if they are taking tentative baby steps towards being less awkward around each other. He’s not sure he should be talking about it with Nie Huaisang either, but-

“I know what it’s like, just wanting everything to end. Deciding the whole world can go to hell. Maybe I didn’t intend for the backlash from breaking the seal to kill me, but I sure didn’t fucking care what it would do to me one way or another. Nothing and nobody could have saved me by that point. You couldn’t have saved him even if you’d dragged him home with you like Lan Zhan wanted to do to me.”

“Wei Wuxian-”

He ignores the little flutter in his chest that they’ve at least moved back to an address that feels less precarious than the icy ‘Wei-xiansheng’. “Let me finish, okay?”

“Okay.”

“So... So... Ah, fuck,” he mutters, gently shifting the pouch so he can scratch the back of his neck, trying to catch the lost trail of thought. “You know… I never questioned the clothing I woke up in when I was resurrected. As brutal and nasty as the Mo family were and as disgusting as that little shack was, it should have come off as weird that I was wearing such nice robes.”

There is a quiet sniffle, and Wei Wuxian pretends not to see Nie Huaisang wipe wet eyes with the edge of a sleeve as he continues talking. “He appreciated those. Appreciated that you tried to take care of him.”

He raises the pouch to eye level, and it gives another little crackly hum. “And clearly he still appreciates your efforts, considering his method of dragging me here to make me apologize for thinking the worst of your relationship. So, I’m sorry for that.”

Nie Huaisang gives a watery little chuckle and swipes at his eyes again. “Accepted. Is he… Is he alright? I only know how to contact souls, I don’t know anything about tending to them.”

“Honestly… I’m not sure what can be done,” Wei Wuxian admits as he begins another examination. “There’s really so little of him left, I don’t know what will happen if a purification ritual is attempted. He seems to be more stable as he is than Xiao Xingchen was, but there’s no guarantee he’ll stay like that. Still, I owe it to him to find some way to help him out, so I’ll do what I can.”

“If it would be easier for you to take him back to the Cloud Recesses for study, then… then you should,” Nie Huaisang says, and Wei Wuxian is a little bit impressed that he was able to make the offer despite how much it must have hurt.

“I think he’d be much happier staying here,” he says, then tentatively adds, “But that would mean visits, plural, and while I’m definitely going to have a very long talk with them about all this, I doubt I’ll be able to come without either Lan Zhan or Wen Ning… probably both at first.”

Nie Huaisang rubs his temples with his fingertips, his expression cycling through a complicated series of emotions too quickly for Wei Wuxian to follow, then he sighs. “We’ll figure something out,” he says as he reaches out and takes back the pouch.

Wei Wuxian can’t help smiling at the tender way he cradles it against his chest as he gets up to approach the funeral tablet and put it back in place. “Yeah. We’ll figure something out.”

#mdzs #wei wuxian #nie huaisang #mo xuanyu #not tagging the cameos #sangyu #fanfic

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whatiwillsay · 4 years

Text

submission: we need to talk about ttb (spade-riddles)

Hey Cam. Seeing that ask defending TTB’s doxxing has sort of pushed me to finally share some of my story on Tumblr, I guess. I haven’t had the opportunity to talk about this to anyone fully, so this will probably be long, but I hope you don’t mind me venting.

I’m one of the people that got emailed by TTB. I don’t feel comfortable posting this off anon, but I was in a Discord server with you and @bisluthq and some other people back in Dec/Jan. I don’t know if you remember me, but my name on there was one word and began with an L and ended with an S.

I want to share the full story, but I also don’t feel comfortable with sharing certain details publicly because I’m still very wary of getting outed further by her if she sees this, so I’m gonna be vague about some things

Request to her followers — If you see this, please don’t send this to her. Like I’m genuinely asking you not to because I don’t trust her not to cross any more lines. My dad is a major homophobe with serious anger issues who has literally been arrested for violence before, and she doesn’t really think carefully or maybe even care about how any actions she takes could lead to people being harmed, so I’m not eager to see how she might react.

Anyway, I first got an email back in December, and I was really freaked out by it at first. I spoke to one of my mutuals about it, and although we both agreed it was super weird and invasive and creepy, we ended up trying to see the funny side of it. So, I kinda just brushed it off and moved on. I was mainly just really confused about why I had been targeted because at the time, I thought it was only me who’d gotten an email like that. I didn’t understand why she’d specifically targeted me instead of other people who she clearly disliked a lot more.

About a week later, I saw someone on Tumblr mentioning a strange email, and I realised other people must have gotten them too. I spoke to Nat about what happened to me and ended up in the Discord

At the time, I felt like I’d gotten off really easy comparatively to others because I initially didn’t realise that she’d contacted anyone else. And so I tried to act chill about it because I didn’t want to make things about me, but honestly, I was extremely anxious. I felt on edge for over a week. I would keep checking her blog again and again because I was super worried that she would post our personal details publicly. I scrolled through my entire blog from start to finish and deleted a lot of posts that were either personal or that I just didn’t want anyone I knew in real life to read.

This part I have to be vague about because it would basically give away who I am, but it was only a while later when I thought I was in the clear that someone I knew in real life texted me and mentioned seeing a weird email about me. The email had been sent a while back, and they’d been shown it by the original recipient/s. Multiple people had been shown it, but luckily (kinda), only two of those people were actually people I saw on a regular basis

I’m mostly closeted, but I’m kind of technically out to a few of my immediate family members. But it’s very much a DADT situation because they’re not accepting, and they like to just pretend I’m straight. And so I basically have to act closeted even when I’m around them, and I can’t even ALLUDE to being gay.

But with my dad, it’s different. He’s very homophobic. I’m only gonna mention this next part so that people understand what kind of dangerous situation that TTB could have put me in. (And the other people that she doxxed too because she didn’t know how safe their individual situations were). It’s all really personal, and I wouldn’t ordinarily feel comfortable sharing any of this at all, even anonymously, but I think it needs to be said because her actions were extremely fucking irresponsible.

Right, so when I first “came out” to my dad, it was actually an accident, and he reacted… extremely badly. This was back in like… 2018 or 2019, I can’t remember the exact year

(TW // physical abuse, homophobia)

He was extremely angry, literally shaking. He yelled at me, he described in graphic detail how he was going to “break every bone in my body”, “strangle the life out of me”, “drown me”, etc. He kept telling me that I’m disgusting and going to Hell, you get the idea. He was having a lot of fun with making strangling motions and stabbing motions with his hands, and he kept slamming his hand onto the table. That went on for about 15 minutes, and then he stood up and threw a chair from the dining table at me. That was fun lol. And he punched me in the head pretty hard which kinda knocked me back. I felt dizzy, I had to sit down on the floor. At that point, my mum who had been crying and asking him to stop physically intervened, and he ended up storming out of the house instead. My mum’s a genuinely good person btw. She’s a little homophobic, but she cares about me a lot, and I’m very grateful for her. She hates him too, but she’s kinda stuck with him… It wasn’t her fault

He literally hates gay people. He complains about us on the regular. One time, he threw the remote at the TV and cracked the screen just because there was a gay male couple kissing onscreen. Another time, he threw a rock at a gay man on the street. There was also a time where he forced a few of my siblings (who didn’t want to do it) to throw peeled oranges out of the window at people celebrating pride while he drove past them and yelled insults at them. He found that really funny. Anyway, I’m sure you guys get the idea of what kind of person he is

He hasn’t laid a hand on anybody in several months though, so I do think he’s trying to be better at least. Like he’s still verbally abusive and controlling and awful, but I appreciate that he’s at least making an effort to calm down with the hitting and kicking and stuff

Anyway, with my dad, it’s less DADT and more that I think he’s got it in his head that he managed to scare me into “seeing the error of my ways” and that I’ve “stopped choosing to be gay” and that I’m now straight. So, if it had been HIM who had gotten that email, it would’ve been like… extremely bad. Like I’m getting anxious just thinking about it. And this is why I’m so angry at TTB. It was extremely, extremely irresponsible of her to not consider these kinds of possibilities before she sent out her stupid emails. She’s supposed to be an ally, but it didn’t even cross her mind that these emails would lead to people being outed and possibly even harmed?? It’s not okay at all. I’m just very grateful that she didn’t send one to him because I don’t even know what kind of situation I would be in right now.

Anyway, enough about my fucking awful dad… I feel uncomfortable that I even typed all of that out, but I wanted people to understand how dangerous her actions could have been. Like I mean, my dad’s got PTSD and extreme anger issues from his teenage years, so I do try not to judge him TOO harshly, but there’s no excuse for being a huge bigot or occasionally violent. The idea of him being the one who got that email is still so scary to me. Like my heart is racing just thinking about it

One of the people that DID read the email was the male friend I mentioned earlier though. He was shown it by someone else for a particular reason, and he was a very important person to me. Like he was a good guy, we were close, he helped me out with certain personal issues I have and is one of only two people that I know in real life that I felt comfortable confiding in about them. We’d always meet up once a week, sometimes twice, and we’d just talk about stuff and make an effort to help each other out with things. Like he was very important to me.

It turns out that he’d looked through my blog before I’d got around to scrubbing it, and he asked me if I was gay in person the next time we met up. I couldn’t lie because like… he’d have known I was lying right to his face. So, I told him I was, and you should have seen his face. It made me feel so awful about myself. He looked really stunned and shocked and kinda uncomfortable. Like it got so awkward, and I started rambling and making things worse. He was avoiding eye contact, and my voice was shaking.

I ended up making up an excuse to leave about 5 mins later and had an actual anxiety attack. Again, this is embarrassing and something I’d never usually talk about online, but I just want to get it all off my chest so that I can move past it all.

So, I was like on the verge of tears (I don’t cry easily), I couldn’t breathe properly, I was pacing around the building, and I just wanted to escape, so I headed straight for the doors. There was a queue of about 100 people lined up and waiting to leave, and I couldn’t think straight or breathe and just needed to be outside, so I tried to go out through the other exit which is for staff only. The security guard stopped me and basically publicly humiliated me in front of all of those people. He loudly shamed me and said I “didn’t have any decency” for attempted to jump the queue, lectured me in this really condescending tone, and then sent me right to the back of that huge line. Meanwhile, I was literally in the midst of a bad anxiety attack.

And then I eventually got outside and had to call my mum to come and pick me up instead of just making my own way home like I usually do. She’s amazing though tbh because she actually came to get me and didn’t even question why. I had to skip all of my plans for the rest of the day and instead just hid upstairs in my bedroom with the lights off until the next day. I refused to tell any of my family members what had happened even though they kept asking. I just felt so, so awful, and my anxiety was through the roof

To be honest, before that happened, my mindset was like: “I mean, if I get outed, it obviously wouldn’t be good, but I think I’d be able to deal with it fine”. But then, when it actually happened, and I saw the way my close friend reacted, I had like a whole emotional breakdown lol. It’s like, you think you’d be fairly chill in a situation, but when it actually happens, your reaction can be really unpredictable. I was so embarrassed by everything about that entire incident. I didn’t even want to show my face the next day.

It’s been almost two months since that happened, and in that entire time, my friend has contacted me once. We literally used to meet up once or twice a week (and during lockdown, we’d do video calls or phone calls instead), but since then, we’ve barely even spoken. Things are just so awkward now. I know this sounds stupid, but I feel like TTB’s taken one of my best friends away from me. I don’t think he’s a homophobe or anything, he has openly gay friends and is fairly accepting, but I think it’s just the way that he found out that has just made things so weird between us now. I feel like if I’d had the chance to come out to him myself in my own way, he wouldn’t have reacted like that. But I’m gonna text him next week and see if we can maybe try to fix our friendship, but I doubt it at this point

The other people who were shown the email, I mostly just avoid. I don’t really care about them knowing that much because I wasn’t close to them, but it’s just really embarrassing knowing that they probably scrolled through my Tumblr blog before I scrubbed it

And about Tumblr… This used to be the only place that I could fully be myself. It was like a “safe space” for me which feels ironic now. But I haven’t been active on my blog since December. I still lurk occasionally, but I just don’t feel comfortable here anymore. I did consider deleting my current blog and starting afresh with a new one, but I don’t think it’d make much of a difference… Like she’s kind of ruined Tumblr for me. I do still enjoy reading people’s blogs every now and then, but I don’t feel relaxed here anymore, I just feel on edge.

It’s mainly the fact that SHE’S still here. She still has a platform, she still has a bunch of followers. It’s been so hard seeing her face next to no consequences whatsoever for the horrible things that she’s done to so many different people. And it upsets me that she hasn’t even acknowledged that what she did was wrong. Plus, it makes me feel even worse that the Hard Kay blogs and some other people are still supporting her and pretending that this whole thing just didn’t happen. Like do they just not care? Or is it that she’s twisted things and made them believe that the situation was different to what it actually was?

And tbh, this whole situation has even set me back in my own sort of personal self-acceptance journey. I had such bad internalised homophobia when I was younger, and it took me so many years to get to a place where I had mostly accepted myself. But now I just feel ashamed again, and I’ve gone back to my old habit of trying to force myself to be attracted to men. Like I downloaded Tinder the other day and set my preference to men and was swiping through profiles. It’s kinda silly actually. I did snap out of it and delete the app the next day though. But I don’t know, I feel like this whole thing has just kinda fucked with me a bit. I am trying to work this stuff out and get back to normal though. I think I’ll be good again in maybe a month or so, hopefully.

And… yeah. I just really resent her, and this situation upsets me. Because the reason she did this was so petty and ridiculous, and I guess she didn’t even realise how much it would impact people? Like I do know that my situation wasn’t as bad as some of the other people’s situations, and I feel really bad for them, and I hope they’re all doing okay. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for them. But it still has impacted me a lot more than I actually thought it would. I thought I’d get over it within a couple of weeks. But it’s been like two months, and I’m still not completely over it

I know it might not sound like a huge thing, but being outed really does affect you, even if it’s only to a few people. Because to me, I feel like I’ve had my sense of like, security and comfort taken away, and it’s kinda distressing. Sorry if I sound dramatic with any of this, I just really needed to say all of this stuff to other people besides myself lol

Like her actions have literally led to me being outed to a few people. A close friendship that I had has basically been ruined. I don’t feel comfortable or secure on Tumblr anymore, even though it used to be an important outlet for me. I’ve had a resurgence of anxiety about my sexuality. Etc.

And again, my dad is extremely homophobic and literally made death threats to me and physically attacked me back when I accidentally came out to him in 2018 or 2019. And if he had gotten that email, I don’t even know what would have happened. I don’t think he would have like… SERIOUSLY physically harmed me, but there would definitely have been a repeat of the first incident. More throwing chairs at me and hitting and screaming and death threats. I don’t really want to think about it.

It just bothers me that she didn’t even consider that? Like did it not even cross her mind? And my dad is bad, but I’m sure there are people in the fandom who have even worse parents, and she could have got one of those people instead. It’s just so… I don’t know, it’s just so frustrating to me.

Anyway, I just hate her for what she did… Like maybe I shouldn’t, but I really do resent her so much, and I don’t think I could forgive her even if she apologised to us all (which I don’t think she even would because she doesn’t seem to have any decency whatsoever). The least she could do is at least express some kind of remorse, but she just genuinely doesn’t care, and that’s super messed up. All over some stupid Tumblr blog that is much less important than she thinks it is.

But anyway… I apologise for the whole rant, and if anybody read all the way down to here, I appreciate it. I do actually feel a bit better now that I’ve got this all typed out. And I’m sorry for the oversharing lol, I usually don’t do this, but I just felt like I really needed to tell people and get it off my chest so that I can try to get over it — L

submisssion⬆️⬆️⬆️

ok L i am trying to remain calm here because this isn’t about me. but i am very emotional right now. i am so so so infinitely sorry that you had to go through this harrowing and terrifying experience. ttb (now blogging under spade-riddles) is absolutely disgusting, lower than dirt, that she would put your life, safety, and well-being at risk over a fucking kaylor blog.

please please please im me or get in touch somehow because i want to offer you support. have you been financially impacted by this? we can raise money. do you need therapy? we can help you find the support you need. this community is unequivocally here for you. whatever you need, if it’s in my power to help you get it, i will. you have my solemn promise on that.

i am so deeply and desperately sorry that you have gone through this. i was shaking while reading your story.

i am in touch with other people and we are in discussion about the best way to let tumblr know what happened. this will be a safe space for you (and all of us) again if it’s the last thing i do. this community is 100% here for you in any way we can help, sending you all the support and love we have.

#submission #tw: abuse #tw: homophobia

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monstersandmaw · 4 years

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Male drider x female reader - WIP, Part Two (sfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

After a teasing Part One last week, here's 3.5k words of Part Two, featuring two poems, neither of which are my own... Things get off to a very rocky start between the lord of Widowsweb Court and the reader, with the drider not exactly behaving in a manner befitting a lord... Naril, the firbolg gardener that everyone seemed rather taken with, continues to be a complete cinnamon roll.

Hope you enjoy, despite 'his lordship's' terrible manners and behaviour... Part Three has just gone up on Patreon today. He also got dubbed ‘cranky spooder’ over on our Discord server, which I adore.

Enjoy x

On the day you first met the lord of Widowsweb Court, you’d opened up one of the enormous windows to breathe a little life back into the stuffy library.

Having spent four weeks getting to know the collection as it was, you’d taken the opportunity to dust a little as well. That had the added advantage that you were now able to let the air back in without fear of choking clouds of dust billowing up into your face. For a house as enormous as Widowsweb Court, you had been surprised to learn that the staff was so minimal - no more than Naril and his father, Chiara the housekeeper, a valet of the lord whom you never saw, and two other members of staff; one a cook, and one a maid.

Standing beside the heavy, ragged old curtain that dragged its hem on the floorboards like a sullen teenager scuffing their heels, you sighed and stared listlessly out at the enormous park beyond. There was something melancholy about it. The grounds were meticulously kept by Naril, not a leaf out of place, and yet it was deserted.

There should have been parties, the voices of people laughing, the chink of glasses and the murmur of conversation in the evenings as people gathered to watch the sun go down over the stunning vista beyond. Music should have floated across the terrace behind the house, washing out to mingle with the dancing splash of water in the fountain, but that basin with its fantasy carvings and rearing stone centaurs, laughing fauns, and wide-winged harpies remained silent and dry.

“Why is it so sad here?” you whispered to yourself, the backs of your knuckles trailing down the old, warped glass of the leaded window. The shutters of this window had been thrown wide too so that you could see what you were doing, and the light poured in over one of the three long, research tables that lined that half of the dour library. Over the course of the past week, you’d stacked books pertaining to poetry up into huge, teetering piles that now looked more like a model city than anything, with skyscrapers reaching for the moulded plasterwork of the triple-height ceiling.

A low, bitter voice from behind you made you jump. “The name didn’t give it away?”

You yelped and tensed, turning sharply to find a figure occupying the shadows between two looming bookshelves. Unable to see them behind the chiaroscuro contrast in the room, you squinted. “The name?” you croaked when you’d finally recovered your senses.

A long, black, needle-thin leg emerged first from the darkness and you almost recoiled in surprise before another appeared beside it. A drider. The voice belonged to a drider. “Widow’s web…” he said in his low, gravelly voice, the tone heavy and dripping with sour sarcasm.

“Oh.” You blinked and curiosity flared in you. “Do… Do you work here as well? I haven’t met you before…”

The emerging drider stopped, the shadows still concealing his upper body, but you could see that he was one of the deadly, flash-quick driders; slim-built and light boned, and probably full of venom. You swallowed. Perhaps he was some kind of security agent? Perhaps it was his job to keep an eye on the place and make sure people kept their distance from the place. Perhaps he had come to check up on you.

For a long moment, the drider remained silent, and then without a word, he flung a thin volume onto the nearest end of the table, only a yard or so from where he still hung back, half concealed in shadow, and turned wordlessly to go. “See that this one is shelved with the rest,” he growled.

You caught a flash of red on his spider’s abdomen before he completely disappeared. His needle-clawed legs made almost no sound on the floorboards, and if you hadn’t been so stunned by his unexpected appearance and behaviour, you might have gone after him to scold him for treating what had to be a first edition - everything else so far had been - so callously. By the time you heard a sharp creak and the soft click of a secret door closing somewhere, it was too late to follow.

So instead, you left the window and picked up the book. It was an anthology of poems, and as you let the volume fall naturally open in your hands, it revealed a short, painfully bitter poem.

And like a dying lady, lean and pale,

Who totters forth, wrapp'd in a gauzy veil,

Out of her chamber, led by the insane

And feeble wanderings of her fading brain,

The moon arose up in the murky East,

A white and shapeless mass.

No wonder he was so gloomy if this was the kind of thing he read. With a sigh, you closed the book and laid it with the other poetry anthologies, and spent the rest of the day trying to shake the encounter from your mind.

At lunch, Naril leaned over the table and frowned. “You alight?” he asked. “You look kind of… far off…?” It was just the two of you that day, with Naril having come in from the gardens a little later than usual, and his father having already eaten.

You sniffed and blinked, not realising you’d been staring into your bowl without really seeing it. “Yeah,” you croaked. “Listen… I’ve not really asked about… this place much. Why is it called Widowsweb?”

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his lanky arms. He was tall, even for a firbolg, and that day he had scraped his long red hair back into a thin plait that hung down his back. His eyes, bright green, turned a little distant. “Apparently a dowager from the Silkfoot family had a falling out with her son, and he was so desperate to be rid of her that he exiled her here and gave the entire estate to his cousin who went with her. The two families diverged there, and never had anything else to do with each other since.”

So what Sarrigan had told you, about the two families being at least distantly related, was true. You wondered if the part about the Silkfoot family not liking humans had played a part in the disagreement. “I know one of the Silkfoots. Not well, but he’s a friend of a friend. He seems nice, but he says his family’s mostly awful.”

Naril was still watching you. “What’s brought this on?” he asked after a moment.

You took a breath and said, “I’m assuming your master is a drider then?”

Naril nodded. “Yeah. You… You didn’t know?”

You shook your head. “I hadn’t given it much thought, if I’m honest. Your father was the one who employed me and dealt with everything on behalf of your ‘master’. I… I think I met him this morning though.”

It was Naril’s turn to look a little surprised. He batted his long-lashed eyelids a few times and then barked a rough laugh. “Seriously?”

“Why is that so strange? He lives here. I find it weirder that I’ve not seen him yet.”

“He never shows himself to any of us. He lives in his wing of the house and literally never goes out. Chiara, and his valet Mason are the only two who ever interact with him directly.”

“Why?”

The firbolg’s surprise melted into something softer. “It’s said he’s cursed, but my father says that’s bollocks.”

“If he’s not cursed, then why? Why live as a recluse?” and why was he so rude?

Naril gave a half shrug and then stood, reaching across the table to collect your plate with his scuffed, scar-knuckled hand and take it to the sink. You murmured your thanks as you waited for him to speak, but he didn’t for a long time. You stood watching him, his shirt dirty and sweat stained, ripped here and there, presumably from the vicious thorns of the roses you’d glimpsed from the windows.

“He lost his wife and their entire clutch when they’d only been married a year or so,” he said at last. The splashing of water in the sink as he washed up almost masked his words, but something in your chest panged when you caught them. “People said he did it. People said he was cursed. People said his whole line was cursed.”

“People say a lot of cruel and stupid things,” a harsh, female voice interjected from the doorway behind you and you turned to find Chiara glowering at the pair of you. Naril cringed and turned his attention back to washing up. “You’d do well to ignore all of them, and repeat none,” she said, fixing her yellow eyes on you. The harpy’s tone was as sharp as her claws, and you didn’t fancy crossing her.

You nodded. You weren’t part of the staff, no matter how welcome Naril and his father had made you feel. You were here to reorganise the library, and then you were going to leave. You had been there for one out of your six contracted months already, and the task seemed gargantuan, but you were determined not to let it get the better of you. Time to get back to it.

“Chiara,” you said carefully, “We weren’t gossipping. I believe I met your master this morning, though he didn’t fully show himself to me. I just wondered who I’d met, that’s all.” With that, you turned and put your hand on Naril’s arm. “Listen, I’d better get going. Thanks for doing that,” you added with a twitch of your chin towards the soapy dishes in the sink.

He bowed his head, his large, cow-like ears waggling softly, and closed his eyes briefly. “Take care up there in the library, eh? Don’t go falling off something or lifting more than you can carry. You look worn out.”

“I am tired,” you said, cracking a yawn almost directly on cue. “I haven’t been sleeping all that well here. Could I borrow you tomorrow for half an hour or so? There’s a massive chest that’s been parked in front of a shelf and I need to move it to get to the books behind it.”

He grinned, his odd, almost feline nose twitching. One lip pulled back to reveal his blunt, herbivore’s teeth and he nodded. “Happy to lend a hand, you know that. After lunch?”

You smiled, feeling a slight heating of your cheeks, and turned for the doorway. “Thank you.”

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and you finally cleared enough shelves to begin putting the first phase of your plan for the library into action.

Three days later, though only as you tucked yourself up in bed for the night, you realised you’d left your phone behind in the library. Cursing, you knew you’d have to go back for it if you were going to get up in time the next day to start work. No one formally kept track of your hours, but your professional pride demanded that you start work at nine, and you didn't fancy sleeping through til gods-knew when, especially given your erratic sleeping patterns of late.

Dressing hastily in jeans and a t-shirt, you grabbed the back door key, with which Mr. Ambleside had entrusted you after your first week on site, and let yourself into the main house.

If Widowsweb Court was creepy in daylight, it was unfathomably eerie at night. Pipes creaked and groaned sporadically, and a draft whistled up the corridor as you fumbled along the passageway that would lead to a servants’ staircase, and eventually, emerged onto the second floor near the library.

Were it not for the light of an almost full moon beaming in through the windows along the corridor, you might have missed the library doors altogether, but as it was, they illuminated the brass fittings so that they gleamed like gold, sparkling and winking at you almost fatefully. You scoffed at the thought, and pushed into the library, the door giving its usual raucous yelp on the hinges.

“Gods, I’ve got to get Naril to look at that,” you grumbled, moving across the floor and wondering if you dared turn all the lights on. Part of you expected a hoard of ghostly spectres to be drifting around the shelves like shades through gravestones.

Before you’d gone three paces, you froze. The whisper of a page turning caught your attention, and you swallowed, heart thudding. Again, you were not alone in there.

“Who’s that?” a sharp, male voice demanded from a table at the back of the room.

“It’s me,” you replied, immediately realising how stupid a thing that was to say to someone who wouldn’t have been familiar with you. You added your name, and followed it up with, “I’m working on the library catalogue.”

“At this time of night?” the scratchy baritone growled.

“I left my phone in here,” you said weakly as you stepped around a bookshelf and found him standing behind the furthest research table from the door. You knew immediately who it was, and your heart was thudding as you wondered just how well the lord of the manor would take it that you were sneaking about his house at this hour of the night. “I need it for my alarm in the morning.”

“It’s over there on the windowsill,” he said carelessly, moonlight running along his outstretched arm like mercury. From what you could see of his body, silhouetted against the light from outside, he was unhealthily thin, and he had long hair that fell loose and unrestrained down his back. He was also huge. Sarrigan was squat, fluffy as a tarantula, and muscular, but this figure was spindly and ominous, and built like a black widow.

“Thank you,” you croaked. “I’m… I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

As you picked up your phone from the sill, you heard him clear his throat, and glanced up to see him shifting a little. He looked like a nightmare demon from a shadow-play, all legs and pendulous body, but something about the angle of his head gave you pause.

He took a slow, rasping inhale. “How… is the work going?”

“Slowly,” you said with a rueful smile. “Mr. Ambleside might be a little out of touch with the collection… It’s larger than I was expecting.”

After a pregnant pause, the drider snorted softly and you broke into a nervous laugh at the innocuously-spoken innuendo.

“Anyway, on that note, I’ll leave you to it. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he said and you watched him walk towards the window. As he moved, you realised what was unnerving about him. One of his legs was missing. Where most driders had eight legs, he had only seven.

You thought about him all the way back to your accommodation, and even after you’d set your phone on your bedside table and lain back to stare at the ceiling, the master of the house still occupied your thoughts.

The next morning, you found your feet taking you to that furthest table, and there you discovered that a book had been left open.

The poem that graced these pages was older by many centuries than the one about the moon. It was written in a language that had long evolved beyond recognition, but you stared at it and trailed your fingers down the verse, murmuring the words aloud in the Old Tongue. It was one you’d studied at university during one of your shorter modules, and you barely remembered any of its translation.

Oft him anhaga are gebideð,

metudes miltse, þeah þe he modcearig

geond lagulade longe sceolde

hreran mid hondum hrimcealde sæ

wadan wræclastas. Wyrd bið ful aræd!

You frowned, muttering words aloud until you’d muddled out a tiny bit of it. “Often, the one who is alone finds grace for himself, the… mercy…? The mercy of the lord? Although he, sorrow hearted… heavy hearted?”

“‘Sorrow-hearted’ works,” came a now-familiar voice from behind you and you jumped, nearly knocking the book from the table. This time you turned to find the drider advancing on you in full view.

Slowly, you let your eyes slide up his body to his face. He wore a crisp white shirt that looked like it had never been worn, the stark, monochrome contrast with his black spider’s body almost jarring. His hair was black, with a thick streak of bright, blood red falling around the right hand side of his face, which was gaunt and sallow, with dark shadows beneath his four red eyes. Around his right two eyes, his white skin was stained dark - almost purple - down his face and a little way onto neck, the birthmark looking like a swirl of watercolour. He blinked slowly at you, as if expecting something; waiting for you to say something rude or thoughtless.

With a start, you remembered the poem, and turned back to it. “Was this what you were reading last night?”

“Mmm. You’ve studied the Old Tongue I take it?” he said, and you turned to find him approaching slowly.

You tried not to let your gaze snag on the void where his leg should have been, and instead looked at the text again. “A little, and it was a while ago. I’m rusty… I think I remember this one. It’s called The Wanderer, isn’t it?”

He nodded, his hair sliding forwards like a black theatre curtain to hide his sunken face. “Not going to chide me for leaving it unshelved?” he sneered as he turned and headed once again for the back of the library. “I never did like librarians, you know?”

Grinding your teeth, and forcing yourself not to snap something rude at the person who was technically your employer, you said, “I’m an archivist, and this is your collection, not mine. One book being out of place is hardly going to though the whole thing into chaos, is it?”

He froze, on the point of leaving, and with an almost theatrical slowness, he turned to regard you. After fixing you with his eerie, red stare, he lifted one side of his upper lip and snarled, “I suppose not.”

And with that, he left you alone and unnerved again.

Work progressed at a glacial pace on the library, but you eventually moved from poetry to non-fiction: travel journals and histories, geographical texts and maps.

Naril grabbed you one bright, weekend morning after breakfast and dragged you out into the gardens for the first time. The two of you spent a couple of glorious hours touring the kitchen garden, the walled garden, the rose garden, the knot garden, and finally the orchards and arboretum. As the pair of you walked, hot and honestly quite tired, back up to the house for refreshments, your eyes naturally found their way to the library windows that overlooked the terrace and lawn at the back of the house, and you were surprised to find them flung open.

You paused and scowled.

“What?” Naril asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I was sure I closed the windows last night…” you murmured.

“Maybe the master is in there,” he said. “You know, I think you’ve seen him more than I have now. What’s he like?”

“Sad.” That was the first word that came to mind. “He strikes me as someone who’s incredibly sad. I’ve only seen him three times now, but each time he seemed so bitter and prickly. It’s like he’s curious about what I’m doing in there, but he doesn’t want to talk to me too much.”

You passed beneath the windows and slid into the house, sighing as the air of the cool stone passage wafted over your sun-warmed skin. No more than an hour later, you found yourself back in the library, but the master wasn’t there and the window was shut again. Easing yourself down into a comfortable chair beside the casement, you let your head loll against the back, and wondered if he ever set foot outside. If Naril was to be believed, the drider never left the confines of his wing for anything other than quick trips to the library.

After a while, you found your eyes drooping, and you inhaled deeply, letting the weight of a doze seep through you like the warmth of a hot bath.

A noise stirred you, and you opened your eyes to find that the light had changed to the vibrant magenta of a clear sunset, and that you were not alone. Squinting at the shelf, with his face far closer to the books than yours needed to be to read the titles, was the lord of Widowsweb Court.

You watched him in silence for a moment, not sure if he knew you were there or not, and took in the lines of his black legs - skinny, barbed, and deadly. The chair creaked as you sat up straighter, and he whipped around, dropping the book with a bang onto the floorboards and rearing up, his front legs rising like lances ready to strike.

“Sorry,” you gasped. “I didn’t mean to make you jump. I didn’t know you hadn’t heard me.”

As he lowered himself back down, you looked up into his face and the expression you found there made your heart stop. He looked furious. “Get out,” he barked. “If you’re not working in here, get out.”

Without another word, you rose and fled the room as sedately as you could muster.

Part Three --->

To be continued next Wednesday… Part Three is currently up on Patreon so you can read it right now on the Pixies and Goblins Tier.

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

#drider #male drider #exophilia #monster boyfriend #monster x human #drider x human #male drider x female reader

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failedintsave · 3 years

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I tried the MTL pairing generator for rarepair month...aaaand it told me to stay in my lane lol. And then it told me to write some Rachel/Roy Cornickleson which I just don't think I'm ready to take on 🙃 So here's some Skwistok set just before Doomstar that I've been fiddling with.

(gets just a little nsfw near the beginning)

Stages

Everyone handles grief differently.

Skwisgaar groaned as muscular arms pushed him against the wall, the reinforced metal door to his room on the submarine banging shut as they cleared the threshold. Hands tangled in his hair, holding him in place while lips and tongue and teeth worked over his neck. He clung desperately to the body pressed against him, fingers twisting in blue cotton material and yanking it upward. The mouth latched onto his throat pulled away as the t-shirt was hauled over his head and Toki's fevered eyes found his before rushing forward again, mashing their lips together with sloppy abandon. He gripped Skwisgaar by the belt, half dragging him as they stumbled their way to his bunk and collapsed. Breathing came in gasps and sighs as Toki's weight pinned him down into the mattress, the pressure both exhilarating and mollifying, an anchor to hold onto as the life he'd known for so many years turned upside down and twisted away in the wind.

He'd never given much energy to grief. Life was just a punctuated string of losses in the long run. Loss of innocence, loss of trust, loss of opportunities. It was all meaningless, really. In his experience, something new always came along to fill the space so why dwell on mourning what you couldn't have back?

Boots thumped to the floor, kicked off in haste. His shirt was peeled away before sturdy hands lifted his hips to free him of his jeans, calloused fingertips gliding back up his thighs and making him shiver. Toki climbed up to kiss him again, hungrily, as if trying to swallow him whole, their teeth knocking against each other. Skwisgaar ran his hands over every inch of skin he could reach, the hard lines of Toki's shoulders, the raised ridges of overlapping scars on his back, hip bones where they ground down against his own. Heat pooled low in his belly like magma aching to erupt. He wanted this, needed this right now, more than he'd ever needed anything in his life. How long had they danced around this, stealing moments and blaming it later on booze or post-show adrenaline, walking right up to the line and peeking over before backing away again? In the name of preserving band dynamics? A lot of good that had done, they'd still ended up where they are now, Dethklok tipping over the precipice into self-destruction.

Another loss to add to the list.

Toki pulled back, glacier blue eyes raking over Skwisgaar's features with manic light, chestnut locks of hair falling in disarray to frame his face. Skwisgaar reached up and tucked a strand behind his ear and Toki's expression shifted, the wild yearning softened into something gentler, less wolfish. He sat up to kneel between Skwisgaar's legs, hand skimming from his collar bone to his navel and leaving a trail of fire, over the inside of his thigh and dipping beneath, pausing until Skwisgaar breathed his assent, whispered his name.

Fingers tested gingerly, gradually increasing in depth and pressure before he gripped him by the waist and hauled him onto his lap. Skwisgaar canted his hips, lip catching between his teeth at the feel of Toki against him, his pulse hammering in his ears. His head angled back into the pillows and a wordless moan escaped his throat when Toki eased forward, back arching as lightning raced up his spine. Skwisgaar's fingers knotted in the bed sheets as Toki released a shuddering breath over him, rocking into him slowly, building rhythm into a steady push and pull.

Loss of professional boundaries. Definitely not something to be mourned.

The devastating sensation of fullness where they joined drove all coherent thought from Skwisgaar's mind and his eyes rolled back under closed lids, panting nonsense and expletives, begging for release. His toes curled as Toki matched stokes with his hand to the tempo of his thrusts, coaxing him through his climax until tipping over the edge after him with a whining sigh. Call and response, Skwisgaar thought dazedly as his superheated skeleton melted into jelly. When he could open his eyes again, his gaze landed on Toki's face above him, watching him with an openly heartsick expression.

"I… hads to do dat… at least once before dis ams all over." The broken whisper settled over him like a burial shroud.

Skwisgaar shook his head, holding out his arms. "Come heres."

Swallowing thickly, Toki obeyed, winding his arms under Skwisgaar's shoulders and burying his face in the crook of his neck. Skwisgaar shifted to find a comfortable position, their sweat-slick chests sliding against each other as he angled slightly onto one side, hand cradling Toki's skull to keep him near.

"Seem pretties stupids we aments been doing dat dis whole time, honestlies."

Loss of time.

Toki held him tightly and Skwisgaar felt the tremor in his grip. He rubbed his cheek against the crown of the other man's head, humming tunelessly as he waited for him to speak, knowing already the fears plaguing his mind. He'd faced them often enough in his younger days, even if the scenario now was more complicated. It was hard to compare wondering where your next gig, your next meal ticket, might come from to wondering where to go after you'd already stood at the top.

Sniffling preceded the feeling of wetness against his shoulder, Toki mumbling against his skin. "What happens now? Ams we all just gonna says 'fucks you, see ya laters' now dat de band ams done? Even now dat dey tells us we gots to plays music to saves de world?"

Skwisgaar fiddled with a strand of brown hair for a moment before answering. "Well, I don'ts know abouts all dis saves-de-woirld business. But whats I do know ams band break ups. And, euughh, ja dat ams a pretty standords opseratings procedures."

"But does it has to be likes dat? We coulds all stays pals, right?"

"Dat ams...compslickateds." He dropped the lock and let his hand fall to Toki's shoulders. "Somet'ing like dis...people tends to ezpecks yous to euughh, picks sides. It ams messy. And it never warks out, t'ings always comes apart in de end."

Loss of the longest working relationships he'd had in his life.

Toki said nothing, so Skwisgaar continued if only to fill the silence. "But it coulds be worse, you knows? We gots more moneys den god, what's so bad what cants be fixed wif dat?" The statement produced a cold feeling trickling down behind his ribs, like swallowing a heaping spoonful of snow. "Nones of it acktualies matters. Just goes on to da next t'ings."

"I just... don'ts know what to does if dere aments a Dethklok."

"Whatevors you wants! You coulds buy de whole stores of airplane models, or you coulds builds you own splasharoonies water parks. Hell you coulds probablies starts a new bands wif dose guys from dat T'underhorse group."

"No," Toki murmured, face still compressed against Skwisgaar's neck. "I don't wants a new band. Dis was da one."

The possessive satisfaction he felt at those words tied his stomach in guilty knots.

"Ja it ams was a pretty good gigs…"

Toki shifted, laying his head on the pillow next to Skwisgaar's, his forlorn gaze searching his face for answers. Skwisgaar rolled so they were laying face to face, legs still twisted under the sheets.

Not everything was tied up in the feud that caused the band to split. What if it didn't have to be a total loss? Surely there were parts here that could be salvaged.

"Okej...so who says we haves to do anyt'ings at all?"

Toki's brows cinched. "What you means?"

Maybe, just this one thing, he could keep.

Skwisgaar's lips curved with the ghost of a smile. "I's already mades it to de top, ams de fastest guitarist alives...coulds be I shoulds just quits while I gots de title, ja? Retires, takes my ball and goes home wif it."

Toki snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Builds mineself a giant house up in de mountains or somet'ing. Or travels and just fucks off on de resgiduals forever, not worries about a deadlines or demos ever again. Plays guitar just for funs."

He saw his grin mirrored on Toki's face as the other man nodded dreamily.

"Maybe you...comes wif me?" Fluttery nerves tickled behind his sternum. "If you wants to."

Toki's eyes widened. "Wait. Whats?"

Just this. He could be happy with this.

"Y-you means it? You aments just messings with Toki?"

He shook his head. "How long dids we waste before nows? For not'ing. I'm sick ofs waitings. Let's just goes."

A heartbeat passed, and then Toki's mouth was on his again. Less frantic this time, hopeful rather than desperate. He cradled Toki's jaw, taking his time as he returned his affections, deepening the kiss and tracing languid strokes over his neck, his shoulders, his chest. Their limbs wound together in a twisted bramble, bodies drawing tightly together, fitting like puzzle pieces.

A repetitive, discordant riff sounded from the pile of clothes abandoned on the floor and Toki's head jerked away. Flashing an apologetic grin, he rolled away to fish his phone from his pocket, sliding his pants up loosely around his hips.

"Sorries, be rights back!" He whispered, pressing the screen to answer. "Oh hei, Rockso!*

"Hows do you even has signals down here?" Skwisgaar called after him as he stepped into the hall, then flopped back onto the pillows to stare at the ceiling, counting the shiny rivets in the metal plating.

This was doable. Tomorrow they would bury more than just a mentor, they would lay to rest their careers as the biggest metal band in existence. The world at large would mourn their passing, but Skwisgaar wouldn't dwell on what's done and over. Not if he had new prospects to look forward to. Something always came along, and he never looked back.

"I tolds Magnus dat I woulds sit wif hims tomorrow." He heard Toki's muffled voice through the crack he'd left in the door.

A shadow passed over his thoughts at the name, like someone walking across his grave. It was uncomfortable to say the least, to have their former guitarist back in the fringes of their lives. Toki had a habit of finding friendship in questionable places, but where the clown was mostly an annoyance and sometimes a financial drain, his relationship with Magnus left Skwisgaar apprehensive. It didn't ease his mind when Toki insisted the older musician was different now. How could he know? He hadn't lived with the man, hadn't walked on eggshells during every rehearsal or songwriting session, hadn't watched as he plunged a knife into a bandmate.

But Magnus had also saved Toki with his insulin. He'd been there for Toki as a shoulder to lean on when the band had started to fall apart, too preoccupied with their own issues to spare a minute for their youngest member.

So maybe Toki was right. Things change; he'd never expected that a wedge could be driven between Nathan and Pickles far enough to end their friendship in such a catastrophic way, but here they were. And if Magnus still harbored any resentment for the band, their breakup was probably a balm to the old wound of rejection. What else could he wish on them? He was probably loving this.

The door scraped shut and Toki slipped back into the blankets gingerly, as if expecting Skwisgaar to be asleep. When he saw that he was still awake, Toki leaned in with a grin.

"Sorries...now, where was we…?" He murmured, capturing Skwisgaar's lips tenderly. "Oh ja, you was tellings me how we's gonna runs away togedders into de sunsets."

"Pfff. Dat am hardlies what I saids."

More kisses peppered his cheek and jaw. "Dats what I heards."

"Well I always knew yous was tone deafs, I didn'ts realize you ams just all de way hards of hearingks." His arm encircled Toki's back as the brunette nestled in again.

"Tells to me about wheres we gonna goes. Tells me about our house on tops of de mountains."

Skwisgaar snorted. Of the two of them, his was not the more vivid and fanciful imagination. But staring up at the blank canvas that the brushed metal panels of ceiling created, he envisioned a future for them to share. They squabbled playfully over locations and home design styles. They named off outlandish things they would fill their home with, like an even bigger ruby metronome or a trampoline room or an indoor pool shaped like a guitar and filled with champagne. They listed places they'd toured that they wanted to visit again, and locations they hadn't been yet but had always hoped to see.

"Can we gets a cat?" Toki asked suddenly, making Skwisgaar laugh airily.

"If we haves to?" He laughed again as Toki nodded against him. "But I'm not cleaningks up after it, dat ams all you, pal."

"Okei." Toki sighed deeply, settling in more comfortably. "Okei. I feels a lots less scareds now about all dis."

His hand glided up from where it had been resting at Skwisgaar's hip to lay warm over his heartbeat.

"I'll miss Dethklok. A whole lots. But now I t'inks I ams acktualies looking forwards to what comes next."

Still staring at the steel plates above, Skwisgaar grinned at the pictures they'd painted in his mind.

"Ja, me toos."

He covered Toki's hand with his own. However much they stood to lose after tomorrow, his heart felt lighter at what they were about to gain together. There was no reason to dwell on what was gone.

Everyone handles grief differently.

Laying on his bunk, Skwisgaar's eyes roamed the scuffed plate ceiling overhead, lingering on rusted rivets and water stains. The imperfections seemed to move and writhe like crawling insects under the influence of whatever handful of pills Pickles had given him. A half-drained bottle of vodka lay cradled against his chest, the mouth stoppered by his thumb. Fire burned in his belly from the alcohol, but cold fury pulsing through his veins tempered it.

He'd been prepared for Dethklok to end, had even accepted the idea that his career as a guitarist was over, diminished to a hobby. Playing guitar was his lifeblood, his purpose, and he'd been about to let that go. What had he been thinking? How had he gotten so wrapped up in fantasy that throwing away his entire self had seemed like a plausible course of action.

Loss of objectivity. Fortunately it seemed to be temporary.

He took a long pull from the bottle, dribbling a little and not bothering to wipe it away. Stupid Toki, needing to be comforted like a child with make-believe bedtime stories. He couldn't just man up and move on like everyone else, like Skwisgaar had been doing since he was a teen, finding his next audition, his next couch to crash on, his next temporary alliance with subpar musicians to make ends meet. It couldn't have been an easier landing for him either, no concerns about hunger or homelessness or deportation hanging over his head. He was set up for success and still couldn't handle it.

Fucking idiot needed so much attention, so much coddling, he'd even run straight into harm's way to try and make a friend. Of all people, he'd had to choose Magnus, that vindictive bastard. Of course he'd still been carrying a grudge, when had he ever let anything go in the past? And they'd known it.

A pair of divots on the ceiling stared back at him, one dark, one catching the light. Glaring back at him mockingly, winking at his impotent rage.

They'd known. They'd known, they knew, they knew.

Skwisgaar knew. And he'd said nothing.

Then he'd watched again, frozen, as Magnus drove a knife into someone close to him.

Skwisgaar thrashed upright, a strangled roar bursting from his lungs as he flung the bottle at the wall. He kicked at the bedside table bolted to the wall, denting it from below, then spun around to tear the sheets from his bunk and hurl them across the room. This wasn't the trade he'd prepared for, this wasn't the deal he'd made with himself.

His eyes fell on his Explorer propped in the corner. He reached for it, wrapping both hands around the ebony fretboard, holding it like an axe and swinging it against the wall. He bashed it into the floor, the dresser, screaming until his throat was raw and the guitar was cracked into useless chunks of wood and fiberglass connected by twisted strings. He dropped the pieces in a heap, sinking to the ground to lean against the side of his bed, his shoulders heaving with labored panting.

The door of his room scraped open, and in his periphery he saw a figure standing, backlit by the dim red glow in the corridor. Broad-shouldered, straight hair dangling about their head. His heart seized for a moment before the figure spoke, shattering his hallucination.

"What are you doing in here?" Nathan's gravelly voice was cautious.

Skwisgaar didn't turn, eyes still focused on the debris ahead of him. The stainless steel guitar strings seemed to wriggle like worms in grave soil, consuming the corpse of his instrument. He waited until he caught his breath before trying to respond.

"What does it looks like I'm doingks?"

Nathan shifted in the doorway. "Losing your mind."

He chuckled mirthlessly.

Loss of sanity? Maybe.

"You've been locked up in there a while. Maybe you should, you know. Come out here. With the rest of the band."

"Fucks off."

Nathan didn't move. Skwisgaar felt the urge to rage at the other man rise in him, to shout in his face, demand to know why it had taken him so long to patch things over with Pickles, why he let it go so far that he'd upset all of their lives so horrifically. But the feeling passed, his body drained from his previous outburst and from trying to filter a pharmacy's worth of substances through his liver.

"We're gonna find him, you know. Charles has people everywhere looking already."

One shoulder rose and fell in a halfhearted shrug. "Whatevers. Who cares."

They could have been a four-piece. If he really wanted to rage at someone it would be his past self. How different would things be right now if he'd never given that gutter rat a chance after missing his audition time? How much of what they achieved would they have really missed out on? How many rerecording sessions and stupid arguments and publicized blow outs could have been avoided? What would they really have been missing?

He certainly wouldn't mourn the loss of a constant source of annoyance. Of an immature tag-along with a hair trigger temper. Of a loud and boisterous whirlwind of silliness and color and sincerity.

Loss of his shadow. Loss of his muse. Loss of his best friend. Loss of his future. Loss of…

Loss of…

He couldn't breathe.

"Just leaves me alone. Please." He gritted out, proud of the steadiness of his voice as his stomach began to roil and his eyes prickled with tears.

Nathan hesitated. "Should I...close this?"

Skwisgaar nodded and after another moment the steel frame clanged shut. His vision blurred as tears welled and spilled over, his breath returning in short gasping puffs which rolled over into sobs that rattled his frame.

They'd had one day. Not even a day. An evening. Hours.

He wept until he was sick, vomiting clear liquor and not much else onto the floor next to the remnants of his guitar. He wept until his tears were spent and his head throbbed in tandem with his heart, even though he didn't understand how the muscle still carried a beat when the rhythm had been taken away.

Eventually he had nothing left. His face felt swollen, his eyes were gritty. Skwisgaar rolled to his hands and knees, avoiding the puddle of sick as he rocked up onto wobbly legs. He looked at the door, wondering if the others were still awake. If they were sitting in the lounge, drowning their sorrows. He felt like he wore a lead weight around his neck, bowing under the pull of it. It might be better just to sleep.

He turned to the naked mattress, but a scrap of blue on the floor near the foot of the bed caught his attention. A faded cotton t-shirt lay where it had been discarded. Skwisgaar stared at it for several long moments. He stepped closer to the bed, to the shirt.

And kicked it underneath the frame and out of sight before turning for the door.

He'd never given much energy to grief. Life was just a punctuated string of losses in the long run. Loss of purpose. Loss of self. Loss of connection. Loss of…

It was all meaningless, really. So why dwell on mourning what you couldn't have back?

#skwisgaar skwigelf #toki wartooth #skwistok #dethklok #metalocalypse

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softzhongli · 3 years

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summary: a closer look at the most exclusive group chat in all teyvat. we have two oblivious idiots in love, two horny bastards afraid of their feelings, a grumpy cat and his sunshine boyfriend and one very single and tired girl... among many many others warnings: swearing, probably some angst info: crack fic, multi-chaptered, social media au, not much difference they just have phones lmao pairings: childe x kaeya // xiao x venti // zhongli x diluc + lumine and other characters requests: open posted: 03/03/2022 a/n: another one from childe’s pov because i’m bisexual that’s gonna be my excuse for everything now lmao also be happy! or sad if you’re like me because chaeya angst is coming to an end with the next chapter T^T # sad times T^T next chapter will also be written in this form and it will be yet another one from chile’s pov bc now that i said i prefer writing kaeya’s pov i apparently will write only childe’s pov just to... idk? spite myself, i guess???? +NEXT CHAPTER ON SUNDAY/MONDAY CUZ I’M MOVING TOMORROW!

>> if you wanna talk or sth hmu here on tumblr or on discord (itskxnga#8629) or in genshin (eu // uid: 736495790)

PREV II MASTERLIST II NEXT

It was fine... everything was fine... it was just peachy...

Yeah, no, everything was so not fine...

Yet again, Childe was wondering how things ended up like that. He, honestly, never knew life could get this messy... and he was one of the fatui harbingers - so it was saying a lot.

But there were only two people to blame for it and he definitely was one of them. He even thought he might be the one more responsible. Childe knew exactly how closed-off Kaeya was, especially when it came to expressing feelings, real and deep feelings. He guarded himself for so long it was obvious it wouldn’t be easy on him and Childe running away the next day definitely did not help the situation. So yes, Childe was ready to take the bigger part of the blame.

But that being said, Kaeya wasn’t without the blame either. He didn’t have to completely cut Childe off, no matter how awkward and uncomfortable the whole situation got... not that Childe desperately tried to reach out to him, but stil...

Childe hated to admit that but Scara was right, they were both being stupid in the end.

And even though he now knew all that, it was still just a speculation. He still haven’t talked to Kaeya. So overall they were in the same place they were before Scara texted him.

There was possibility Kaeya loved him back. It’d mean that everything he convinced himself of was not true and at this moment Childe wasn’t quite able to comprehend what it actually meant.

He spent the whole day with his phone in his hands, his lip was most likely bleeding now from all the biting it had to endure and his hair was sticking in every direction imaginable because of all those time he was so frustrated at the message that wasn’t good enough to send to Kaeya so he had to take it out on his hair.

It was just pitiful and Childe was painfully aware of that. Normally he wouldn’t think twice before sending a text to Kaeya. It wasn’t what mattered. But now one wrong placed coma was enough to deemed the whole message just plain stupid or cringey or too happy or sad. Childe’s mind was racing thousands miles per hour and there was nothing to stop it.

To be honest, it was so simple - he just wanted Kaeya back in his life but somehow he wasn’t able to put it in right words and sending just that after all this time with no contact didn’t feel right. He wanted to say so much but at the same time he was a little scared it’d maybe overwhelm Kaeya and not help the situation in the end.

“You’ve got this.” Childe tried to hype himself up. He took a deep breath, shook his head and unlocked his phone yet again. “It’s just Kaeya.” He chuckled to himself, trying to convince both his mind and racing heart that there’s really nothing to be scared of. “It’s Kaeya.” He repeated, quieter this time and something suddenly changed.

It’s Kaeya.

Childe didn’t even notice he dropped his phone on the floor. It was like that once sentence punched him right in the gut. Making him realize something he deep down already knew, for a long time most likely.

It’s Kaeya.

It’s always been Kaeya.

Was he in love with Kaeya from the very beginning? Did he even know how it felt not to love him? Childe honestly wasn’t sure about this one. But if those days spent apart showed him anything, it was one hundred percent that he didn’t want to know. If being apart from Kaeya felt like that not even after a month, then Childe couldn’t even imagine what a life without Kaeya would be like.

Even to this day Childe didn’t want to fully believe it but all of their friends must’ve been right all along. Did he look like a complete lovesick fool even before he knew it was love? Was he really that obvious without realizing it?

Did Kaeya figured it out, too?

No, he doubted that. No matter his own insecurities he wouldn’t just ghost him if he knew Childe’s feelings.

CHAT: +18 ⮡ members: childe / kaeya

childe: i’m coming to mondstadt tomorrow

childe: meet me near the starfell lake at five?

childe: ...please?

kaeya: i’ll be there

kaeya: see you soon

childe: yeah

kaeya: yeah

How was it possible for his hands to shake this much? He didn’t know how he managed to type the messages out but he did and he’d see Kaeya again tomorrow. He could feel how awkward the texting was but at this point he could not possibly care less. Mere hours were keeping him away from the love of his life Kaeya and Childe knew he wouldn’t be sleeping that night.

Not when he had to think of what to say to him in order to express his feelings clearly and not to mess up again.

He will make this right.

Whatever it takes.

#genshin impact #childe x kaeya #childe genshin impact #kaeya genshin impact #chaeya #genshin fanfic #kinga writes #groupchat.doc

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honeydvew · 3 years

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what's the biggest life decision (you feel comfortable saying) that you've ever made? do you ever think about what would've happened if you hadn't made a certain choice/how it would've affected your life?

canofworms0 downloading tumblr. i know that sounds stupid but honestly its real. im not allowed to have anything else in regards to social media. not instagram, not twitter, not snapchat, not tik tok, nothing. my mother knows i have tumblr so i dont know why she doesnt make me delete it (but it might have to do with the fact she thinks its like deviant art or smth) but im so glad she doesnt. as social-media-addicted-teenager as this sounds without tumblr my life would fucking suk right now. i wouldnt have the things i do and i wouldnt be as happy. and i can give you examples.

lets go in order of events shall we :)

1. i downloaded tumblr some time last year (around may i think) and i immediately found a blog i liked! they were a 13yo like me they shared some of my interests and they seemed really cool! so i followed them. i dont know this blogs current @ but im so lucky i ever found them. a month or so later they posted about a server! it was a community server that they and some friends were in. i joined. thats where i met @starry-baby-katie and @gayishgothamite. and i love those dorks (affectionate)! we might not talk very offten but i think of them as people who are SO important to me. i love them with my whole soul and i dont know if my life would be as bright without them.

2. around 11/5 of last year i was scrolling through tumblr like usual. i saw an add for a server. at that point i was in maybe three servers on discord and didnt have many friends so i thought you know why not! its a mental health server and i wasnt in the best place maybe could benefit from it a bit. i joined and there were maybe 14 members including the mods. we didnt really think the server would go much of anywhere for a while and i honestly didnt interact much for a while but you know what. now that server is such a huge part of my life i dont think i would be here without it. i mean i love every last person there so much. literally all of them. @the-final-braincell bun bun is honestly one of the best people ive ever met. they’re funny and joyful and just the best to be around. talking to them always cheers me up and she always manages to make me laugh. were on the mod team together and she is such an important part of the team that we wouldnt run as smoothly as we do without her. i love them so so much and if i hadnt gotten tumblr? would never have met them. then theres @sir-tigerr. tiger. just. tiger. hes so amazing and i honestly would die for him. i love him so much and just talking to him can make my day. i wouldnt be as happy and the sever wouldnt be as fun without him. and @reallyradrat server owner :) sammy im so grateful for sammys existence just.. overall. they made the sever. they wrote the add post. and they’re such a good friend. i cant imagine not having them in my life they’ve made such a difference. so just... thank you <3 and @tiredconfusedandgay!! cub!! i love them!! theyre such a joy to be around and them being in the server is such a lucky thing! it wouldnt be as fun and bright of a place without them and they bring so much every time and i love seeing them in chat everyday. and with leo comes @canofworms0 baby child. anni is so amazing. just overall. so happy and funny and just an amazing person to be around and im so happy to have them in the server. @lentil-darling !!! kittycat!!! i love them!! they're so amazing and have helped me through things on more than one occasion and I'm so grateful for that and for them. they're such a good friend and i always have such a good time whenever we vc! its honestly something i look forward to! and speaking of VCs @gayest-unicorn is amazing. VCing with them is so fun and i hope we can do it more often. and on top of that just messaging them is great! and they're puns (ouns ;)/ij)? FANTASTIC! i hate puns by most means but whenever they crack a joke it makes my day 4000 times better. he's just amazing and i think he deserves the world. cant say enough praise to him :) so i low key have to speedrun this bc im running out of time to type this but all of these people also deserve the world and i wouldnt know them if it wasnt for tumblr @smoll-lightning-bug @totally-tater-tot @savemycrustysoul @a-broken-laptop @nantuckets-weaver @undead-mutt @hufflepuff-pide-honey-badger @human331279 and just so so many more whos @s i didnt get or couldnt find. i am so grateful to have in my life because of this server and that post. that post literally changed my life forever and i cant imagine my life without it and without these people

3. a few months went by and i made some mutuals and friends and whatnot. my at the time friend irl then made an account. i was really excited! why wouldnt i be! friend made account! awesome! but another thing about that? i had a crush on them.. and they could now see my account. but fuck it it was a great trade off. we spent a lot of time sending each other asks and messaging while in quarantine and it was just great. then i saw an ask game and i rebloged it. i realized this ask game said “♻ are we a qpp or what?” as one of the asks. now im a coward and i could NEVER have done this outside tumblr in anyway but i took the chance. i sent them the post and said “you should rb this! you have followers that would interact im sure” and so.. they did. i sent the ask and they said yes :) five months later and we’re still dating. whos this amazing person? that my friend would be @mossofthecosmos the most amazing person ive ever met. theyre the light of my life and if it werent for tumblr i would still be a blushy, semi-verbal, embarrassed, mess around them. and we wouldnt be dating. i cant even imagine what that would be like. i love them so much and they make every day wroth living for me and if it werent for tumblr, i wouldnt have that.

4. and ive made friends. so many of them. and i love them all so much! i dont talk to a few anymore but for the while we did they made my days and made me so happy. without tumblr i wouldnt have met @mimekyo or @books-andbiscuits who are both people that have made my life a brighter place!

okay so i cried writing this and i cried HARD

bottom line nonie? this question is so loaded it took me three hours to write an answer and a stupid amount of words that no one will read all the way through

i cant put it into words but this website is one of the best things that ever happened to me and i cant imagine life without it

#this was for the honesty hour and i dont think nonie wanted this much honesty akjfsdhasd #asks #anon #important #wholesome

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captain-aralias · 3 years

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This was a quiz from a while ago, the time themed fic questions?: Forever, Friday, April, November

hello! this is very unexpected - i had to dig this one out of my archive, all of which made answering these questions extra fun, so thank you! vv nice saturday morning surprise.

forever: do you balance fic writing with original concept stuff?

i've just realised this question say 'do you' rather than 'how do you' - i do not! i think it would be a lie to say that i never want to write my own stuff. but i think what i want is ... to have written my own stuff/to want to write it, and to be known and engaged with as an original writer. and i don't want it enough to do the work of thinking about what to write when i have no ideas. and - yeah - i have no ideas for original stuff! so, i just write fic, which i'm super interested in as its own genre, and which is about characters i already love and know. rainbow hit the nail on the head when she had cath talk about this in 'fangirl'.

friday: most self-indulgent fic you have ever posted?

i mean, they all are. weridly, things i've written as 'gifts' tend to really fit into this category - i wonder if i'm trying to abnegate responsibility for things that so closely align to my id...

the most recent example is my most recent fic - Teacher's Pet (NSFW) - which is the second sequel to classroom politics, and the third example (i think) across fandoms of me writing essentially 'roleplaying as yourself', which is one of my favourite ideas. i wrote 'teachers pet' for other people, i did, but it's also for me... at the end of the day, the person who likes 'classroom politics' most is probably me.

april: have you ever written and/or posted a crackfic?

good question - for me. because it's not obvious that i have. BUT.... i definitely have. i just checked AO3 to see what i thought was crack at the time - i've tagged six things. almost all of them are crack treated seriously, because i tend to treat everything seriously.

The Doctor’s 500 Year Diary - which is the third doctor through the lense of bridget jones though - has to be crack, right? i mean, a bit. maybe it's more of a pastishe. it's pretty good, anyway. i think. (actually, all of these are quite good, if i say so myself. the idea of playing a really stupid idea really seriously is a good idea - she said defensively.) everyone enjoys a good jokes about the UNIT dating scandal, amiright?

november: do you have any rituals or requirements for getting in the mood for writing?

honestly, the main ritual is to think... right, well, time to start writing, then .... i wonder whether anyone's updated their tumblr? hm, well, not much. ok - back to writing. unless... is someone saying something on discord? oh, they've linked a new fic - maybe i should read it ... ok, i've read that fic now, REALLY time to get writing ... except, maybe it would be better if i had a cup of tea...

if you are thinking from this - how does any writing ever get done? the answer is that i do this for a long time. i spend hours and hours not writing and eventually have to put some words down out of embarrassment.

i also listen to the audiobooks to remind myself what the characters sound like. generally chapters 32-33 of carry on or the epilogue for baz, and the beginning or whatever for simon.

these questions were from this list of asks. thank you!

#my content

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mosiee · 4 years

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Newsies Square Writing Challenge:Week 2

From @newsies-square-discord post

Inspiration: Why are you being the reckless one now?

Pairing: David & Sarah- sibling shenanigans

Kinda a modern/ collage au bit from another wip that will most likely never get done so might as well post it here

David was achy. His head was killing him, he couldn’t breathe through his nose, legs were sore, and he was paranoid. He did sleep for a few hours after Jack left, but every movement jolted him awake. He got up and went to shower, noticing various bruises on his torso. He was more beat up than he thought. The shower didn’t help either. He expected it to sooth the pain a little but it did virtually nothing.

He didn’t know what to do after. Normally he would be sitting in class, ignoring the group texts that were buzzing in his pocket but he couldn’t even do that. He was worried about what missing the day would do for his grades and it really freaked him out. The semester was almost over and that’s when the pressure really increased. Adding the Delanceys on top of it all really didn’t do any good for him.

He decided to clean to take his mind off things. His room had definitely seen better days, but he was still certain that even in its most messy state it would still be cleaner than most of the guys’ rooms on a daily basis.

There was one thing he didn’t anticipate, and it was Sarah trying to video chat. She would freak if she saw the state he was in. Sure, she had laughed when she found out he accidentally joined Jack’s quote unquote gang, but thinking about it and reading through old articles old misdemeanors put her on edge. They’d met a few times when she’d come for a visit and said Jack seemed like a good guy, but the fights he got in made her nervous for his safety.

David huffed before answering the call, an excuse for only using the mic on his tongue. “Hey Sarah.”

“What? We haven’t talked in weeks and you won’t even turn on video chat for your sister. Rude.”

“I mean I just got out of the shower so I’ve only got a towel on.”

“David, I’ve seen you in a towel before.”

“Oops it fell.”

“You’re gross you know that?”

“But I’m your brother and you’re stuck with me.”

“Yeah, yeah please don’t give me anymore mental images.”

David rolled his eyes. “What’s up? You look tired. Work kicking your ass?”

“It’s trying to at least. My manager got fired for – I don’t know, embezzlement or something so there’s this big case going on and everyone picked up shifts until his replacement is found.”

“Geez. I figured something was up but nothing that big.”

“You’re telling me. But anyways, why aren’t you answering your phone?”

Oh right, he forgot about that.

“Uh, I – it broke?”

“Broke?”

“Me and the guys were doing stupid things and I dropped it and it – broke.”

Sarah’s face was set in an annoyed frown. “I thought you were the responsible one of the group.”

“No, I’m the smart one. Smart does not equal responsible. Besides, it wasn’t even my fault.”

“Who’s was it then?”

“Okay, it might have been my fault, but Albert’s taking a look at it to see if he can fix it. Best case, it works and I just have a cracked screen. Worst case is I need a new one which I can afford by myself – for a few months.”

“Why are you being the reckless one now?” She snorted and shook her head.

“I think I’ve earned it with how much I put up with and how much I don’t normally do.”

“Yeah, yeah okay. Anyways, you’ve got a break coming up in a little while right? Two weeks?”

“Yeah.”

“I was thinking of coming with Les for a visit. He’s going stir crazy. Seeing you in person will do a lot of good; getting one of your hugs too. We’ve both missed that.”

“I’d really enjoy that actually. Been too long.”

#I need more sibling shenanigans in my life #Sarah deserves more #because I love her and I say so #👏🏻👏🏻#92sies #newsies #newsies live #david jacobs #sarah jacobs #jacobs sibling #Les is also mentioned #mos rants in tags #Mos writes #mos’s writing #newsies-square-discord #writing challenge #text #mos rants

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isogenderskitty · 4 years

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One-Shot Fic: Tied Together

Soon to be put on AO3 once my signup goes through but for now it lives here.

Fandom: Ace Attorney Ship: Narumitsu (AKA Wrightworth) Word count: 1,342 Genre: Fluff, getting together, inspired by a conversation on a Narumitsu Discord server. ♥ Warnings: None! Except that I haven’t written anything in approx. 100 years. jkzsdhf Summary: Phoenix isn’t very good at tying his tie neatly. Miles really, really wants to fix it, among other things.

When he gets over the initial shock of his childhood friend suddenly showing up across the courtroom from him, the first thing that Miles Edgeworth notices is inane, illogical, and confusing.

The man cannot tie a tie.

It’s not so bad that it’s not technically tied up, he reasons – a person with slightly lower standards than his own probably wouldn’t even notice – but it is loose and wonky, and could look so much better with a little help from a more deft hand.

It’s not an outright obsession; there are often much more pressing matters at hand, obviously, both professionally and personally. But in tiny moments throughout the years, something living in back of his mind taps him lightly on the shoulder with slowly increasing confidence to say Miles, you really want to reach out and fix that tie.

Every time it comes to him, the thought is accompanied by an increasingly tighter chest, faster pulse, and more detailed visions of what Wright’s face might look like that close. How he might look at him. Whether he would feel the same pounding and rushing and near loss of control that Miles does. What that meant.

He thinks about it during multiple post-trial celebrations, looking across a tightly populated dinner table with the buzz of alcohol consumption in the air, unable to hear anything anyone said for worrying amounts of time, and especially unable to look away from a triumphant and jubilant Wright, smiling enough for all of them.

He thinks about it hundreds, thousands, infinite times while away in Europe for that secret year, wondering if Wright still hadn’t learned how to tie a tie properly. As lonely months pass, that thought becomes less wistful and more riddled with guilt and anxiety.

When he returns home, the first time he sees him is in the Criminal Affairs department, a young girl in robes clutching his hand tightly. He’s never seen Wright look this dishevelled. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days and hasn’t changed out of his suit or showered in just as long. The tie is barely holding on. A selfish and stupid thought flickers through Miles’s mind, for just a moment: is this what happens when I leave?

How absurd, he thinks, shaking his head. Something else must be wrong.

When Wright is disbarred, Miles can’t get hold of him for weeks. He drops everything and rushes over when he finally hears from him. Two surprises meet him at the door, albeit one much bigger than the other; Wright has a daughter now, and there isn’t even a tie in sight to fix.

He finds himself taking a more active role in Phoenix’s life from then on; as a current friend rather than just an old one. Visiting often for game nights, or just to watch TV, or giving financial or personal aid. Some nights just talking, some just listening, most a mixture of both.

After about six months of this new, altered relationship, they develop a silent agreement. If they just so happen to be sitting adjacent on the sofa, and perhaps Trucy has gone to bed or fallen asleep with her head on Phoenix’s lap, and all is still and dark and quiet except for lights and sounds from the television, they enter a different state with a different set of laws.

Heads can lean on shoulders and against the napes of necks. Thumbs can brush softly over knuckles while the other fingers grip each other tight. Feet can gently kick and nudge each other on the floor, that or perhaps the TV eliciting chuckles that can be felt as rumbles against skin or as breaths in hair. Every moment of living in this warm space they create makes Miles’s heart burst aflame and crash violently against his rib cage, screaming to be set free… and yet, mysteriously, he always wants more of that destructive feeling. As years roll by like this, ties are long forgotten.

Until Phoenix gets his badge back.

Miles walks into the defendant lobby a few minutes before the trial is due to start, to wish his dear friend luck. He stops in his tracks when he sees him. Back in that familiar blue suit, but better. So many details that are already driving Miles insane. The hair, the chain, the waistcoat.

The tie. Even this new, more mature, somehow even handsomer version of Phoenix was hopeless.

Before he knows what he’s doing, Miles has already walked over to him and opened his mouth.

“Wright.”

A turn, a beaming smile that threatens to blind him, a slight crack in the voice that is echoed on the surface of Miles’s heart. “Oh, hey Edgeworth!”

“I… just wanted to bid you good luck.” He bows out of habit. Too formal, even for the public eye, he scolds himself as Phoenix’s face falls ever-so-slightly. The last thing he wants right now is for Phoenix to think he’s been demoted to Wright. That being a lawyer again means their previous, stiffer relationship has been reinstated along with his career. He panics slightly, not wanting that idea to take hold.

“Thanks.” It’d sound happy to anyone else, but Miles can hear the undercurrent of worry.

Again his body moves without his mind’s explicit consent and he’s reaching for Phoenix’s tie in the middle of the defendant lobby before he’s registered the impulse to do so. Phoenix squawks and goes stiff as a board and red as an apple but doesn’t quite get as far as moving away. “Edgeworth, what… “

“You never were any good at tying this thing. Hold still.” His own voice sounds much farther away than Phoenix’s. Miles distantly decides that if he’s going to exist in this insane dream state for a moment he might as well embrace it. He commits to memory the heat coming off Phoenix’s skin, the cheap feel of the tie, the way his knuckles brush against his neck and he thinks he feels the hint of a nervous gulp. The air in the room suddenly feels unbearably hot.

After he finishes finally fixing that godforsaken pink tie, he admires his work for a moment, and then dares to look up to Phoenix’s face. The actual proximity of his eyes shocks him mute. He feels a slight tremble in his fingers as he pulls them away from Phoenix’s lapel. The room doesn’t exist.

He spots Phoenix wet his lips quickly with his tongue, and speak:

“I love you.”

It’s not said as if it’s news, or as if it’s a dramatic declaration, just a simple statement. Like it’s a reminder of something he’s already said. In a way, Miles supposes he has, in ways other than with words, countless times. He supposes they both have.

Phoenix looks just as shocked as Miles feels. Miles can’t help but laugh a little, even in his stupor. Phoenix looks even more shaken at that.

Distantly, as if echoed through a valley, they become aware that the bailiff is standing a few paces away, awkwardly trying to get Phoenix to go into the courtroom. Miles steps back, clearing his throat. His finger catches on Phoenix’s newly reattached attorney’s badge for a moment, giving him a burst of pride that is somehow perceptible over the rest of his body screaming bloody murder.

“I-I should go,” Phoenix stammers.

Miles faintly registers just before Phoenix turns away that he shouldn’t leave this conversation at that bombshell; he doesn’t want him to think the feeling isn’t mutual - the one that tears him apart day and night. He takes a deep breath and replies perhaps a little too loud.

“I love you too. Call me after the trial?”

“Way ahead of you,” Phoenix breathes, chest heaving. The beaming smile is back and somehow even brighter. It seems to illuminate the entire courthouse in a radiant golden light. Miles weakly offers up an uncharacteristically erratic wave before Phoenix turns and disappears into the courtroom with a skip in his step. Miles makes a mental note to apologise profusely for the distraction if he loses the case.

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minijenn · 4 years

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Important UF Announcement

Ah, ok so... this post is really hard for me to make, but its time for me to be honest with myself and with all of you. So, I have a few things to say just to make sure you guys are in the loop with what I’ve decided to do for the immediate future. Long story short, I’m putting UF on an indefinite hiatus. You maybe be wondering “Jen, why would you do that when you’re in the middle of writing a chapter?” Well, its because I’m... struggling with this chapter. Crack the Whip is kind of an important cornerstone of Arc 9 and I don’t want it to be subpar like I feel the last few chapters (basically everything since RMD) have been. I hold my work to a very high standard and I don’t want to put out something I’m not proud of, especially for a chapter this significant. But tbh, even beyond that, I’ve just been feeling... a real lack of passion for UF lately. I haven’t felt like writing it, planning for it, drawing stuff for it, I think I’m just burnt out with it. Blame that on whatever you will, my zeal for Keys to the Kingdom, my being in the middle of a big move to a new apartment, the general state of the world at the moment, ect, but I’m stressed and I kind of just want a break from something that, at this point, kind of feels like something that’s more of an obligation to write than something I actually want to work on.

Now, let me make it exceptionally clear that I’m NOT cancelling or ending UF. I’m just putting it on hold for the time being. I would never stop working on this fic completely when its so very close to its completion. But I need to rebuild my steam, my passion for this story before I ride that stride into the end. And to do that, I plan on doing things like rereading my favorite chapters, probably rewatching GF and SU since I haven’t done so in so very long, things like that. It’ll probably take some time, but I want UF to feel like a labor of love again instead of, again, an obligation I feel like I have to maintain a solid schedule on. I want to love writing this fic again instead of it feeling like a chore. And to do that... I think I need to step away from it for a bit. It hurts me to do this since I’ve been putting so few chapters out lately anyway and I know you guys are starving for more content and are probably sick of me and my stupid KH fic instead of UF, but I just... can’t keep forcing myself like this. So... if an extended hiatus is what I have to do to get over it... so be it.

So since I’m sure you all have plenty of questions about all this, I’ll answer some under the cut:

How long is this hiatus going to be?

Like I said, its indefinite, so I can’t honestly tell you. For all I know I could get my passion back as early as after my move next week once I’m all settled in my new apartment, but at the same time it could be possibly mid February or so before I feel like working on UF again. It just depends on how I feel tbh.

Are you still going to be available to discuss UF?

Yeah! You can hit my inbox up about UF stuff anytime, and the Discord is also a great place to chat with others about UF Stuff (PM me for the link to that if you wanna join!). I’ll also still likely draw UF stuff whenever I open drawing requests, maybe even write some UF drabbles too the next time those open up as well.

What are you going to be working on in the meantime?

I can’t lie in saying that I’ll be shifting my focus over to Keys. Tbh Keys is kind of easier to write at this point since its an ongoing flowing plotline as opposed to UF’s episodic structure where we largely start off with a clean slate in each chapter. But like I said, I’ll also be rereading some of the best parts of UF and rewatching both shows to remind myself what makes them so great and reconnect with these characters I feel like I’ve fallen out of touch with.

Those are really all of the questions I can think of right now, but as always if you have any more, please feel free to hit me up in my inbox. Before I go, I do want to genuinely appologize to all of you UF fans out there for this. I’m kind of disappointed in myself too lately since I’ve been so passionless for something I’ve been trying to keep so strong for 5 years straight now, but... maybe that’s part of the reason why too. But again, I need a break and that’s exactly what I’m going to take so that hopefully, when I return to UF, I’ll be able to give you all the same great content you love to see :) Until then though... well, I hope you’ll stick around and be patient with me. Thank you <3

#jen rambles #universe falls #update #announcements

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