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lucifersresources · 5 months

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taylor swift // the tortured poets department : the anthology rp meme. part one. part two here.

edit/alter/change pronouns etc as you see fit!

fortnight.

i was a functioning alcoholic.

i hope you're okay.

no one here's to blame.

but what about your quiet treason?

for a fortnight there, we were forever.

i wanna kill her.

all my mornings are mondays stuck in an endless february.

i took the miracle move-on drug.

the effects were temporary.

i love you, it's ruining my life.

my husband is cheating.

i wanna kill him.

the tortured poets department.

i think some things i never say.

you're in self sabotage mode.

i've seen this episode and still loved the show.

who else decodes you?

who's gonna hold you like me?

who's gonna know you, if not me?

this ain't the chelsea hotel.

we're modern idiots.

you awaken with dread.

i chose this cyclone with you.

i wonder if you're gonna screw this up with me.

everyone we know understands why it's meant to be.

who else is gonna know me?

that's the closest i've come to my heart exploding.

my boy only breaks his favorite toys.

here we go again.

my boy only breaks his favorite toys.

i'm queen of sand castles he destroys.

i should've known.

we could've played for keeps this time.

i know i'm just repeating myself.

he runs because he loves me.

i knew too much.

there was danger in the heat of my touch.

he saw forever, so he smashed it up.

once i fix me, he's gonna miss me.

i felt more when we played pretend.

he stole my tortured heart.

told me i'm better off, but i'm not.

down bad.

did you really beam me up in a cloud of sparkling dust, just to do experiments on?

i was the chosen one.

this world is bigger than us.

i knew cosmic love.

for a moment, i knew cosmic love.

now i'm down bad.

everything comes out teenage petulance.

fuck it if i can't have him.

fuck it if i can't have us.

they'll say i'm nuts if i talk about the existence of you.

for a moment, i was heavenstruck.

i was heavenstruck.

i loved your hostile takeovers.

how dare you think it's romantic.

fuck it, i was in love.

fuck you if i can't have us.

so long, london.

i kept calm and carried the weight of the rift.

i pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away.

my spine split from carrying us.

i stopped tryna make him laugh.

how much sad did you think i had in me?

you'll find someone.

so long.

i didn't opt in to be your odd man out.

i founded the club she's heard great things about.

i left all i knew.

you left me.

i stopped cpr, after all, it's no use.

the spirit was gone.

i'm pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free.

two graves, one gun.

i'll find someone.

you say i abandoned the ship, but i was going down with it.

my friends said it isn't right to be scared every day of a love affair.

every breath feels like rarest air when you're not sure if he wants to be there.

how much tragedy did you think i had in me?

just how low did you think i'd go 'fore i'd self implode?

you swore that you loved me.

you swore that you loved me, but where were the clues?

i died on the altar waiting for the proof.

you sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days.

i'm just getting colour back into my face.

i'm just mad as hell coz i loved this place for so long.

but daddy i love him.

i forget if this was ever fun.

these people only raise you to cage you.

these people try and save you coz they hate you.

they slammed the door on my whole world.

but daddy, i love him.

you should see your faces.

floor it through the fences.

no, i'm not coming to my senses.

i know he's crazy, but he's the one i want.

growing up precocious sometimes means not growing up at all.

he was chaos, he was revelry.

stay away from her.

the saboteurs protested too much.

i'd rather burn my whole life down.

i'd rather burn my whole life down than listen to one more second of all this bitchin' and moanin'.

i'll tell you something about my good name, it's mine alone to disgrace.

i don't cater to all these vipers dressed in empath's clothing.

god save the most judgmental creeps who say they want what's best for me.

they think it can change the beat of my heart when he touches me.

you ain't gotta pray for me.

it's just my choice.

scandal does funny things to pride, but brings lovers closer.

we came back when the heat died down.

fuck em, it's over.

time, doesn't it give perspective?

no, you can't come to the wedding.

he's the one i want.

fresh out of the slammer.

i'm running back home to you.

he doesn't understand me.

handcuffed to the spell i was under.

it's gonna be alright, i did my time.

now that i know better i will never lose my baby again.

my friends tried, but i wouldn't hear it.

he kept me going.

i swirled you into all my poems.

ain't no way i'm gonna screw up.

ain't no way i'm gonna screw up now that i know what's at stake here.

florida!!!

they said i was a cheat.

this city reeks of driving myself crazy.

your home's really only a town you're just a guest in.

can i use you up?

me and my ghosts, we had a hell of a time.

i'm haunted but i'm feeling just fine.

i did my best to lay to rest all of the bodies that have ever been on my body.

i need to forget.

tell me i'm despicable, say it's unforgivable.

love left me like this and i don't want to exist.

guilty as sin?

this cage was once just fine.

am i allowed to cry?

what if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh only in my mind?

i keep recalling things we never did.

without ever touching his skin how can i be guilty as sin?

there's no such thing as bad thoughts, only your actions talk.

we've already done it in my head.

i've screamed his name.

they're gonna crucify me anyway.

what if the way you hold me is actually what's holy?

they don't know how you've haunted me so stunningly.

i choose you and me religiously.

who's afraid of little old me?

you don't get to tell me about 'sad'.

if you wanted me dead, you should've just said.

nothing makes me feel more alive.

who's afraid of little old me?

who's afraid of little old me? you should be.

the scandal was contained.

at all costs, keep your good name.

you don't get to tell me you feel bad.

is it a wonder i broke?

i was tame, i was gentle, till the circus life made me mean.

don't you worry folks, we took out all her teeth.

they didn't do it to hurt you.

i wanna snarl and show you just how disturbed this has made me.

you wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me.

i'm always drunk on my own tears, isn't that what they all said?

i'm fearsome and i'm wretched and i'm wrong.

you caged me and then you called me crazy.

i am what i am coz you trained me.

i can fix him (no really i can)

the jokes that he told across the bar were revolting and far too loud.

i can fix him.

i can fix him, no, really, i can. and only i can.

he had a halo of the highest grade.

good boy, that's right.

i'll show you heaven if you'll be an angel.

trust me, i can handle a dangerous man.

loml.

who's gonna stop us waltzing back into rekindled flames?

we were just kids.

i thought i was better safe than starry-eyed.

i felt aglow like this never before and never since.

you and i go from one kiss to getting married.

we're never quite buried.

you told me i'm the love of your life.

you blew in with the winds of fate.

you took me to hell too.

you shit-talked me under the table.

i wish i could un-recall how we almost had it all.

should've let it stay buried.

our field of dreams engulfed in fire.

you're the loss of my life.

i can do it with a broken heart.

she's having the time of her life.

i can show you lies.

i'm a real tough kid.

i can handle my shit.

you gotta fake it till you make it.

lights, camera, bitch, smile, even when you wanna die.

he said he'd love me all his life.

he said he'd love me all his life, but that life was too short.

all the pieces of me shattered.

the crowd was chanting 'more'.

i was grinnin' like i'm winnin'

i was hittin' my marks.

i can do it with a broken heart.

i'm so depressed i act like it's my birthday every day.

i'm so obsessed with him but he avoids me like the plague.

i cry a lot, but i am so productive.

you know you're good when you can even do it with a broken heart.

i keep finding his things in drawers, crucial evidence i didn't imagine the whole thing.

try and come for my job.

the smallest man who ever lived.

was any of it true?

now you know what it feels like.

i don't even want you back.

i just want to know if rusting my sparkling summer was the goal.

i don't miss what we had.

could someone give a message to the smallest man who ever lived?

you hung me on your wall, stabbed me with your push pins.

you didn't measure up in any measure of a man.

were you sent by someone who wanted me dead?

did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?

were you a sleeper cell spy?

in fifty years, will all this be declassified?

confess why you did it.

good riddance.

it wasn't sexy once it wasn't forbidden.

i would've died for your sins.

i would've died for your sins, instead i just died inside.

you deserve prison, but you won't get time.

you said normal girls were boring.

you were gone by the morning.

in plain sight you hid.

you are what you did.

i'll forget you, but i'll never forgive.

the alchemy.

this happens once every few lifetimes.

what if i told you i'm back?

i'm coming back so strong.

i'm the one to beat.

the sign on your heart said it's still reserved for me.

who are we to fight the alchemy?

clara bow.

did you know you'd be picked like a rose?

i might die if it happened to me.

this town is fake, but you're the real thing.

the crown is stained, but you're the real queen.

you're the new god we're worshipping.

beauty is a beast that roars.

it's hell on earth to be heavenly.

#lyric rp meme #rp sentence starters #lyric sentence starters #rp meme #rp sentence meme #music rp meme #sentence starters #rp memes #lyrics rp meme #music sentence starters #taylor swift rp meme #taylor swift lyric meme #taylor swift sentence starters #the tortured poets department rp meme

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wolftheghost · 8 months

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Very specific experience here but anyone else ever end up browsing the images of a kintype you're not sure about only to find an image that just gives you like prickles all over and a feeling of certainty?

Welp i was tryna narrow down my goat kintype cause it was nagging at me and discovered Old Irish Goats and just immediately felt this recognition, like the time i found out im a black coloured wolf.

Obviously going to research more but for now this is what im settling on

Here are a few pictures i picked up :3

As always, click for full image/better quality

#main blog #therian #therian community #therianthrope #therianthropy #therian things #theriotype #goat therian #goatkin

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fishfingersalad · 8 months

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The foretold fic of Connie and South helping Wash bleach his hair for the first time! Includes Wash and Lina as siblings.

Fic under the cut

Lunch was a rather boring affair with York away on a mission and North on shore leave with his sister. If you asked Wash who was more likely to come back injured, he couldn’t tell you. The man was abruptly jolted out of his musings by something slamming down onto the table in front of him.

“‘Sup loser”

Wash sighed and turned to the voice, “Hi South. I thought you were supposed to be Austria or something”

South dramatically threw herself down on the bench next to him, “Firstly, it was Australia, second, I got sent home early for an attempted assault of an officer,” She flipped her hair out of her face. “Thirdly you now owe me thirty dollars.”

“THIRTY DOLLARS??? What- I- Why??”

“Thirty dollars Australian, not American, and,” she gently threw a plastic shopping bag onto the table, “I heard you were thinking about going blond”

Wash shot up so fast he almost fell off the bench “How do you know about that? You weren’t even in the room?? I don’t even think you were on the ship?!?”

South waved her hand ambiguously “You told Ohio who told Connie who told me, and I needed to pick up some dye to redo my tips anyway. So, wanna do your hair?”

Wash considered it for a minute. Getting hair products outside of shampoo while in space was hard, plus the only other people he knew who dyed their hair were Vera and Carolina. He’d listened to Vera complaining about getting chemical burns on her scalp so he didn’t exactly trust her skills, and asking Carolina for help seemed like a good way to end up on the training room floor. It looked like South was, unfortunately, his best bet.

He sighed, “Yeah, sure. Why not.”

A slightly manic grin spread across South’s face before she spun around and yelled across the mess hall, “HEY CONNIE! HE SAID YES!”

Connie turned and yelled back “WAIT REALLY?!”

“YEAH, GET OVER HERE! WE GOTTA DO IT BEFORE HE WIMPS OUT!”

Someone, probably Georgia judging by the voice, shouted, “SHUT THE FUCK UP ASSHOLES, I’M TRYNA EAT”

As he stared at the women's twin smirks, Wash got the feeling he may have made the wrong decision. He sighed, resigned to his fate. “Can I atleast finish my lunch first?”

Half an hour later saw Wash sitting on a bench in the women's showers wearing an old torn shirt he’d stolen from Maine. South was shaking a bottle with something blue in it, while Connie was gently finger combing his hair. Wash turned his head towards South, “Remind me why both of you need to be here again?”

South smirked again, “‘Cause I’ve been dying my own hair since I was like thirteen, and Connie knows how to cut hair so if we fuck up she can atleast make you look decent.”

Connie reached over to smack South on the arm, “I’ll have you know I used to bleach and dye my hair all the time. I probably have more experience with bleach than you, Miss natural blonde.”

Wash almost dropped the box of pink hair dye he was looking over, “Wait, seriously? You with coloured hair?”

Connie laughed, “Yes, seriously. I was really into scene and emo culture, I’ll show you some pictures sometime.”

South slammed the bottle on the sink a couple of times before going back to shaking it, “What like, teased hair, raccoon tail dye, all that?”

“Yep! Bright pink and green too.”

“No way!” South tilted the bottle a bit before walking over to Wash and Connie,“Heads up Wash, this is gonna smell like cat piss and itch a bit. If it starts burning, wash it out.”

“Wha-” His words were cut off by the odd feeling of a thick liquid on his hair. True to South’s word he felt a tingling feeling on his scalp, it was uncomfortable but not painful. He did have to resist the urge to scratch it as the blond woman rubbed it into his hair.

“Y’know,” South started, “We’re probably gonna have some leftover bleach, Wash’s hair is pretty short… Connie, how ‘bout we bring back the old hairstyle?”

“Are you asking if I wanna bleach some of my hair again?”

South shrugged, “I mean, why not? We’ve got all the materials.”

Connie pondered it a second before nodding, “Yeah sure, probably no raccoon stripes this time though”

“Hell yeah! Wash is just about done now.”

Wash suddenly zoned back in, “I am?”

“Connie, flick his cheek for me and then sit your ass down next to him so I can bleach yours” Connie happily obliged, “Wash, grab that plastic bag and put it over your hair”

Wash tilted his head, thinking maybe he heard her wrong “What? Why?”

“D’you wanna question me, or do you want your hair to be bleached properly?” Wash silently complied. “So, Connie, where do you want me to bleach?”

Connie eventually settled on bleaching the shaved part of her hair for the effect of, as South put it, ‘a sickass hot pink undercut’. The packaging said they had to wait half an hour before washing out their hair, none of them particularly felt like wandering around with plastic on their hair so the three of them were sitting on the tiled bathroom floor and gossiping. They were halfway through Connie telling them about how she accidentally walked in on Florida and Wyoming in a storage closet when the alarm on South’s watch went off.

The two of them with bleach in their hair went to separate stalls to rinse it out. Together, Wash and Connie turned to look at themselves in the mirror.

Connie turned a little to look at her now blonde undercut from a different angle, “Y’know I think it looks good! How about you, Wash?”

Wash stared at his reflection for a second before turning to the third person in the room, “South”

“Yeah?”

“...”

“South, why is my hair ORANGE?!?” Connie tried to muffle her giggles for a moment before giving up and beginning to laugh so hard she had to gasp for breath.

“Well, Wash. You have dark hair. Like really dark. It's- pfft- it’s not gonna go blond in one round of bleaching”

Wash looked at her, his face full of betrayal, “We have to do this AGAIN?”

South just shrugged “I mean, I thought we might. There’s a reason I bought two boxes of bleach.”

“We should- we should wait another- pffft- another day or two before bleaching it aga- again” Connie was just about rolling on the floor.

“I’M GONNA HAVE ORANGE HAIR FOR A FEW DAYS?!?”

“Awww cheer up Wash,” South punched his shoulder, “You’ll be right”

Wash just pouted at her.

Two days later, the three of them were back in the bathroom, rinsing out their hair again. The girls hair with pink dye, Wash’s with a second round of bleach. Wash was hesitant about looking in the mirror, but both the girls' hair looked amazing, and Connies assured him that his did too. Taking a deep breath, he turned to his reflection. It looked… familiar. He felt a gentle smile come over his face. A hand reached out and ruffled his hair “Seems like you like it, if that dopey grin is anything to go off of”

Wash whacked the hand, “Oh piss off South.”

The woman shrugged and smiled her crooked smirk, “If it’s too yellow I can always message North to pick up some toner”

“No, no, it’s good! Yours is too.” As Wash was talking, Connie reached over to fluff his hair. “What is it with you guys and my hair!”

Connie stuck her tongue out at him, “You wear your helmet all the time! We hardly ever get to see it!”

All three of them snapped their heads towards the door as it was thrown open. Carolina walked in and paused for a second before noticing the three by the mirrors.

“You three, what are you- Wash? Why are you in the women's bathroom? I-” You could practically see the moment her brain processed what she was seeing,“South, Ct, could you two… give us a minute?”

“Sure thing boss,” South saluted her sarcastically before clapping Wash on the shoulder, “Try not to die, Rookie.”

The door closed behind the women as they left, most likely to try and eavesdrop.

Carolina looked almost shocked, she briefly reached out her hand towards him before dropping it again, “Your- your hair, it’s-”

“D’you… like it?”

“You look… you look just like mom…”

Wash reached up a hand and ran it through his still drying hair, “Yeah that was kinda my intention. Dad’s gonna hate it.”

“Dad hates everything, I wouldn’t worry about that,” She sighed and looked away for a moment before walking over to lean against the sinks next to him, “It suits you y’know?”

Wash leant his head against Carolina's shoulder, “Thanks, that- that means a lot.”

She gently ruffled his hair, “Yeah, I know. I know.”

#the thing about ohio burning her scalp with hair bleach is something that happened to me #and it sucked >:(#red vs blue #rvb #agent washington #agent south dakota #agent connecticut #agent carolina

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bringcal · 1 year

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Dave ironically is the one i claim to like the least but have the most headcanons about probably. I base a lot of what I think about him around him being a skater and my own personal experiences.... Fashion wise he has Big ass pants, busted shoes, the most egregious stained socks you ever seen, shoe-tie belt, big shirt.

also i feel like a lot of people draw daves room like. organized chaos. and walls and flooring is always white even if its coloured ... as if hes in a padded room?? when i actually am assuming he has that ugly ass apartment rough carpet all thru the house like a lot of condos have and thats stained to shit. Its hot there so itd smell thick and rank. itd be dusty as shit. Really im just tryna emphasize the stank on both dave and the strider apartment. you can visibly see the dudes dirty bro. and he prolly drowns himself in body spray n some basic deodorant

listen i know dave gives off “ sleek” clean metal type vibes, like hes gonna fit right in w the animal crossing “ cool “ items, but it just isnt right. hes neglected

When it comes to music! im not even sure I want to say this because people get so passionate about his music taste but I really do think its just 80s-90s hiphop. Please listen to The Bridge by Mc shan as its a classic

He has Dissociative identity disorder, and fibromylagia. I can definitely see him never really bringing the pain and fatigue up until later in life because he didn’t actually know not everyones in pain all the time

I know suits are like objectively cool and fresh and whatever but in my mind it makes sense to strive for that look and why it seems he was so obsessed w it for a while. Many kids who take up skating are low-middle or in poverty and look to skating to get them out of that predicament. To be able to wear and afford all those suits and ties is a sign of financial security. Dave didn’t actually have a suit and had to scale up a puppets suit to get one.

anyways look at dave dissociating and throwing his dead self out the window with no thought to preserve or respect his own body in order to protect the people he cares about

#dave strider #homestuck

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ajokeformur-ray · 2 years

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Do you think Arthur is still there inside Joker? Or is he gone completely. I personally think he's still there. When the crowds leave and he's left with silence. I think Arthur comes out a bit.

Hmm... I don't see Arthur and Joker as different people. Rather, I see Joker as the complete manifestation of Arthur's severe mental illnesses. We never find out for sure what he has but I suspect, largely, severe GAD and depression, learned narcissistic tendencies (I don't think he has Narcissistic Personality Disorder, but I do think he displays learned traits which he picked up from being raised by Penny, as well as his extensive social isolation being a contributory factor), and maybe a few others. I'm not that far into my psych degree yet where I can say anything else, definitely not confidently, but these are my suspicions from what I know of Arthur and also of my own life experiences and education.

So, to get back on track, I see Arthur and Joker as being the same person. There are differences between the two of them, for sure, because Joker is manic and loud, brash, he no longer tries to make himself out to be bigger than he is with his body language (for example, Arthur dancing with his arms extended fully, whereas Joker dances with his arms close to him), because now he is bigger.

Simply put, I see Joker as being an Arthur who is still coming off seven different medications cold turkey (coming off medication is messy as all hell and doing it cold turkey can be dangerous, so doing this with seven different medications???), he's no longer able to access therapy or any type of support, he's trying to outrun the law, he's riddled with being the face of a political agenda which doesn't mean anything to him ("No, I don't believe in that. I don't believe in anything" in the dressing room and then "I'm not political, I'm-a just tryna' make people laugh" as he mocks Murray during his segment on the show), and his mania is likely a symptom of all or some of this.

Additionally, I think that Joker is the stage of Arthur's development wherein he needs the most help. He needs the most love, the most support. When we meet Arthur at the very start of the film, he's already doomed and we get to see the rest of his descent. So by the time he's Joker, the irony is clear: he's wearing a mask (the greasepaint on his face. Note that it is harder to read his facial expressions as Joker; I suspect that this is by design. His facepaint smiles, but he cries through his interview, he cries when he kills Murray, he shakes when he pulls the trigger the second time, he dances nervously around the stage to dispel tension and calm himself down; his dancing is a pacifying behaviour), and so though Joker is wearing a mask, Arthur as a whole has never been more honest.

So, to summarise, I believe firmly that Arthur is Joker and Joker is simply a manifestation of Arthur's severely untreated mental illnesses; his mania, for one thing. I don't know enough about anything else within this incredibly nuanced and grey discussion to say anything else with confidence so I do apologise for that. Joker is Arthur, and as I said, he's never been more honest about who he is, even when he's dressed to the nines and wearing greasepaint like it's his skin. Arthur is Joker, Joker is Arthur, but the degree of honesty displayed depends entirely on whether or not he's wearing that gorgeous suit of his. The more colourful he dresses, the more painted his face, the freer and more honest Arthur Fleck is within himself.

(Please note that these are my individual interpretations and opinions; I am not stating anything to be canonical here because, as we all know, literally nothing about our boy is canon and everything is down to us, the audience, to decide for ourselves.)

#arthur fleck #joker 2019 #joker 2019 analysis #joker 2019 meta

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twenytwenytwo · 2 years

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Nov 9 2022

Quick details: The Volvo is alive again. My sleep pattern these days seems to be sleep 4 hours straight, then hour by hour for the next 4. Anxiety low-zero, mostly zero though. I don’t think about anxiety all day basically, but sometimes am unrelaxed, unfocused.

I feel, as I’m sure others do, like I have to get my “shit together”. Like I gotta figure it all out, get my life in perfect order before I can allow myself to relax. I feel like I have to gaze over each department of my life, and feel “Yeah!!” otherwise something is off, like a barely crooked picture on the wall, irritating you from afar.

Perfect order to me would be a combination of feelings and circumstances.

1. I’d have a band of guys I love hanging out with; good friends basically, who I make great music with that is tight and dangerous.

2. A job that is well paying and not taxing on my mind. I still feel attracted to blue collar sorta jobs, despite embarking on the videography journey. I like doing video, I just wish there was no aspect of it that encouraged me to be cool or the best, that sorta vibe. Chimney sweeping sounds simple, kinda fun, and like it doesn’t matter in this relaxing way. Nobody cares, nobody is tryna be cool and getting the head in a knot.

3. A sexy girl who is crazy about me, and I’m crazy about her. I want to fuck. I want to have fun and relax together. Have kids and a home. A grassy property with a studio, some ocean, firewood, chickens n shit. Maybe have some like minded neighbours, who can come over and jam, or sit around the fire in the eve.

Feelings would be excitement, discovery, enjoyment, satisfaction. Potentially vague there, yeah, but oh well.

These are things that make me perceive life more fondly, make me feel like I am winning, and thus put me in a generally better mood where I’m focused on things I like.

“The hardest thing to do in life is focus on your dreams, the easiest thing to do is complain.”

Perhaps all this time spent philosophizing, going for endless walks, trying to articulate my thoughts is just another form of complaining. I’m focused on what’s wrong and not on what I want to/should be doing, like when you’re complaining.

The best thing I can say, while I continuously go off into tangents, is that all that comes into your life should be accepting your invitation. I feel like I’ve forced things into being in my life so far, coerced, tricked, deceived, to get my preference. Why is that bad? Because it’s unenjoyable, anxiety encouraging. In fact, the place that approach comes from is anxiety, and ultimately fear, fear that unless we muscle things, things won’t go our way. It lacks imagination and confidence. If a circumstance is to be, trying to force it to persist longer than it wants to is exhausting and sucks the colour from life. Nothing should take muscle, or coercion, otherwise you will not enjoy because that process takes all your energy.

I’ve learned this in my relationship with Ethan, and my relationship with Izabel. I used muscle to preserve them, which simply postponed the inevitable, and made me anxious and fearful. The anxieties of this past year were all about the immense pressure I put on this circumstances to give me everything I wanted, and secretly thought that losing them would be catastrophic. Ultimately, I lost them, and lived out that mental catastrophe, unaware of what psychological processes were unravelling within me, unaware of what I had been sowing, and now reaping. I was so anxious to be a success, in the vague sense.

- interupted

Tangent: The powerful human desires are like beasts who can be put to work. If they have no task, no ultimate goal, no hamster wheel to run in, no load to pull, they get annoying to experience, because they are roaming the woods looking for something rip apart out of boredom.

Tangent: The desire to be famous, or just kinda huge and superior, “wow they’re so ____, I wanna be like them, and be friends” is the desire to feel like you’re part of a community that values you. To have a role that those around you respect and value, and to feel like (as a result) people wouldn’t hesitate to talk to you, or think fondly of you, or invite to their party or whatever. The desire for fame, cultural significance, is a desire for safety and love from your fellow humans, to be part of something beautiful and life enriching. To celebrate life together and laugh without a doubt. Why are we so bad at identifying that? Perhaps it’s a result of increasing atomization in the world my generation grew up in, rise of useless roles, cubicles, and that cultural icons best illustrated the feeling of value, connection, and celebration of community and wonder. Why is it that we want to achieve that through fame? Perhaps because there’s no way to really “get” friendship, whereas you can (not really tho) “get” fame. It’s a singular checkpoint in the mind whereas friendship is a constantly changing thing, without a clear checkpoint, or point of “got it!”.

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inkmemes · 3 years

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peachprc lyric sentence starters ↪ taken from her entire discography to date. trigger warnings for religion, drug use, unhealthy coping mechanisms, alcohol mentions, mental illness allusions, & more. some lyrics have been tweaked to work better as full sentences. alter as you see fit ♡

“i leave ya on a comedown.”

“i mean this respectfully: god is a bit of a freak.”

“i understand.”

“why would i spend my eternity with god when he's a freak?”

“i'm hard to love; there's no denying.”

“don't wanna love me 'cause it feels too risky.”

“i've been told i'm heavy to hold.”

“if you've had enough … thanks for trying.”

“stop calling me, [name].”

“i know your type.”

“don't be shy, come in.”

“i hate this winter theme.”

“i know you only call tryna patch things up and all.”

“all your money's rolled up your nose.”

“i wasn't always colourblind.”

“and i think maybe you're lost.”

“let's pour a drink.”

“tell him he did nothing wrong, you just decided you prefer blondes.”

“"how to win friends, influence them" let you down.”

“"fix you" is only pretty when it's sung by coldplay.”

“i'm artificial sweetener.”

“i'm hard to beat.”

“call me a skeptic, but i kept it to myself.”

“ i been good for so so long - a little fun never hurt no one.”

“you're incomplete.”

“and i think you're kinda narcissistic; you should see a therapist.”

“and i don't wanna talk when you're knockin' off, drunk at four o'clock.”

“don't put all your eggs in one basket just cause you saw the world through some peach coloured glasses.”

“i think amphetamine's the only crystal that'd help.”

“i'm not saying i miss you, i just think i have dreams where i kiss you and it's pink, and i wake up in a room full of blue, and i remember how violet looked on you.”

“i'm exhausted always cutting you off.”

“put on that dress he don't like.”

“i've got a problem keeping friends.”

“you've got someone else on your mind.”

“so i think i'm cured. this time i'm sure. it's different than before.”

“you just wanna dance all night.”

“i'll be your experiment, we'll do it for the hell of it.”

“i hear cars pull up outside, ring doorbells but they're never mine.”

“call me heart and jaw breaker.”

“i'm not saying i miss you, i just think i have dreams where i kiss you …”

“sleep in my room instead.”

“i tried some crystals i was told would fix me up.”

“let me change your mind with a kiss.”

“i got a question for you: does he make you feel like i do?”

“how can i love myself when i'm so draining to everyone else?”

“sitcoms on vhs - laugh tracks echo the friends that left.”

“i have like four notes in my brain and that's it.”

“here's my confession.”

“such an entrepreneur clown.”

“is there a shortlist order of importance or is it just luck based?”

“i'm still waiting up tonight.”

“it's all just symptomatic.”

“i know you're okay but don't throw out your meds cause you had a good day.”

“my gingerbread house is on fire.”

“does your mum still buy your clothes?”

“put on that dress he don't like.”

“what's your deal? 'cause you're living like a baller on a budget of 'bout twenty dollars, plus my rent money you "borrowed".”

“i'm not saying i love you, i just mean … maybe grass on your side really was green.”

“guess god had time that day.”

“i'm gonna get rum drunk.”

“why's he watching me getting railed on the couch?”

“i can't think of anything else.”

“a bump's the only snow i'll ever see.”

“don't worry about it - kids that've sinned get sick.”

“i know you're gonna hear this song on all the playlists it comes on.”

“[name] you're no fun you just sedate me.”

“maybe i'm just a little too old.”

“my solar plexus had a hole that needed love.”

“how can i brave this storm when i just burn them trying to keep warm?”

“he says i fill the void with boys and overspend.”

“i’ve done some things i shouldn't do.”

“i got a feeling you'd be better off with me.”

“i just wanna call you mine.”

“listen i'm just confused with the work that he's doing.”

“it's not serious, it's just an experience.”

“i thought you were blocked.”

“you'd be surprised, the things i've done since you've been gone.”

“all trick no treat.”

“don't tell my doctor that i'm day drinking again.”

“i think he likes me, maybe i'm a narcissist.”

“weird you're acting like my boyfriend.”

“i'm not usually this forward but now i wanna be.”

“this story's gonna take all night.”

“and i heard you're gettin' drunk at bars still.”

“i can't do anything else.”

“fuck off, stop calling me, [name].”

“it's getting all kinds of ridiculous.”

“he's gonna kill me.”

“they'll kiss me, their manic dream pixie.”

“i'm getting tired.”

“maybe start with all the holes you left in the wall.”

“get another round and taste it.”

“he's got fucked up priorities.”

“how's your business workin' out?”

#rp meme #rp prompt #rp starters #rp sentence meme #rp sentence starters

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lochsides · 3 years

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Yellow Metal - cathartic Review

Here’s something I did not expect to be reviewing this week but when Zayn drops a 24 minute rap track, you fall in line. I had to listen to it a couple times through before I could even begin to make sense of my thoughts because my brain sort of malfunctioned. I have never been prouder to be a Zayn fan. He’s such a nuanced songwriter and there is so much to unpack here.

I think this is the most unfiltered version of Zayn that we have ever been exposed to (and possibly will ever be). I am grateful that he said his piece in this because it needed to be said. As a brown woman, I felt so seen by this and I cannot explain what that means to me. Thank you Z, for your unvarnished truth in addressing racism and various forms of discrimination.

I’m doing a short lyrical analysis below the cut, but the TLDR is that this is a fantastic piece of art that deserves to be heard.

I wish he had released this as an EP because that would be easier to review than a single 24 minute song, structurally speaking. So instead, I have picked out some key lyrics, going from top to bottom, that really spoke to me and decided to study the song that way. His lyricism is hard-hitting in this track. It is beyond anything he has ever released before.

“The planet bleeds, the damaged trees. It’s never leaving until we ascend so fuck the fence.” — I have not seen this lyric being talked about in the fandom, because the lyrics that follow this steal the show, rightly so, but I wanted to give this line a moment because it’s important too. To me, this lyric speaks to where Zayn is at with his relationship with the physical world. He’s out on the farm (about which he even goes to say “tell you what I like, farm life and the tractor”) and I believe he’s happy in his space and he feels connected to nature (also see River Road). So it is a poignant and slightly jaded, but valid perspective that he shares on climate change. It’s never leaving until we ascend. The damage human beings have done to the planet won’t be undone until there are no humans left to do damage. It’s a single sentence that says so much about the depth of the climate crisis. I’m doing my PhD on urban air quality so this is something I care really deeply about and I resonated with.

“And until they stop killing colour, it’s fuck the feds.” — Yeah, agreed Zayn. The systemic racism that he calls out here is echoed throughout the song, in equal parts anger and boldness. I love that he isn’t glossing over it with metaphors, which he could easily do and it would be beautiful in a totally different way, but this makes it harder for racists to overlook. There is so much power in calling it like it is.

“Never lose me to fentanyl, scared when I take a Benadryl, keeping it green in general.” — It frustrates me to no end to see Zayn painted as this drug-addicted lazy musician that doesn’t care about his work, because we know how untrue that is. This narrative is tired and simply boring too, and I won’t get into the racist connotations of it when you consider it against his white colleagues who smoke as much as him but that isn’t one of their defining traits in the media.

“I’m racking up excuses while I’m slacking off on work … it was hard work that got me heard” — I love the juxtaposition in this verse. The public/media perception on his career is that Zayn doesn’t put in effort or that he doesn’t want it. This obviously stems from his leaving the band. It goes back to what I was saying before about narrative, when in reality, as Zayn has said on various occasions, he fights to make his own choices. And that doesn’t have to look the way everyone else expects it to (“I beg you, don’t include me. I might write it on my shirt”), he has his own struggles that have helped forge his path, but it is his path that he paved, himself. He works hard to be heard. He has to. It reminds me of something my parents used to tell me when I was younger about being immigrants: you have to work 10 times harder for the same opportunities just because of the colour of your skin or your name on the cv. It’s a harsh truth to grow up with but it was my reality, as it is for most POC.

“This life doesn’t give you no armour, a lot of myself can harm you. I swear on what’s good, that I’m here ‘til they take me. I pray that I’m wrinkled, at least over 80…” — There is something about the simplicity of these lyrics are the messaging that I love. He isn’t trying too hard to sound poetic but he still manages it perfectly.

“All I've been achieving, clocking miles in this region, moving like a legion. Promise that I made to myself, an allegiance. Do you still believe I’m a fool for ever leaving? Staring at the ceiling, can never put a cap on achieving. I’m just here for the rap, then I’m leaving. // I’ve had about enough of being my own enemy. It’s time I grew up, a long way from 17. Always went against the grain, struggles in my life. Got some things to say when I stand up on the mike.” — This is the only 1D-related lyric I’ll make reference to because this song is about so much more than that. That said though, we cannot overlook Zayn’s experiences in the band because that is part of his story. The tongue-in-cheek of “I’m just here for the rap, then I’m leaving” is hilarious to me. The line about not wanting to be his own enemy anymore and growing up from 17 reminds me of that quote Taylor (Swift) mentioned in Miss Americana about celebrities getting stuck at the age they got famous. I think this verse is similar to that. None of them ever wanted to be in the band and I don’t care what anyone says, Zayn leaving and proving success outside the band gave the rest of them the courage to follow their own solo careers. Sure there was drama surrounding the split but he did it for himself, to tell his stories the way he is now. Whatever else you have to say about him, you cannot deny his authenticity.

“I ain’t dropping this for fame, I need this time, like therapy, it’s just to keep me sane.” — I think this line tells us 2 things, the first being that this song was not leaked. Z knew what he was doing and his twitter likes tell us as much. He didn’t release it for any sort of attention, otherwise it would be widely available on streaming platforms and for purchase. Which leads to my second point, he released this song to get everything he talks about on the track off his chest. Its referenced in other lyrics too, like “now you see where I come from, the world don’t.” This was for whoever cared to listen, not the world. It’s inaccessible for a reason. I love that he threw those lyrics in. It makes the song feel more like a private conversation or listening to a friend rant. It creates a different form of intimacy between himself and his fans.

“Lessons that I’ve learned, I’ve tried teaching to myself. What I’ve learnt from certain people is that they’re better than myself. So I surround myself with real ones, and you feel the plastic melt.” — This one is for anyone that buys into conspiracy theories surrounding Zayn’s personal life. He surrounds himself with real people, real friendships, real connections. I have never bought into the bullshit that he has zero autonomy over his personal life. I love the use of plastic melting as a metaphor for ridding his life of fakeness.

“Feeling trapped. This industry is a cage.” — Zayn is obviously not the first person to say it. Many artists talk about how suffocating the industry is ( which he further comments on in the sung portion: “I don’t wanna be, I don’t wanna be, a part of this, no, I don’t wanna be, I don’t wanna be, a part of this”). Fame is such a wild and unnatural concept and the exploitation and politics of the music industry only feed further into it. The industry being a cage makes me think of zoos and how celebrities are animals on display, when they should be free in the wild. I also really like the musical interlude following this part.

“Nobody’s speaking the truth, I’m offended by the State. Look at the state of the news, I’ve decided the argument, reciting my views.” — Zayn toes the line between keeping to himself and speaking out on important issues, sometimes not very well. I am his biggest cheerleader, but I’m not up his ass. There have been many occasions where he could’ve done better. But I cannot fault him for being offended by the State because same, Z, same. I love that he took this song as an opportunity to real speak out, no punches pulled.

“See I’ve been facing the racists from back when I were a kiddie. Born up in 93’. Living in Bradford City, they kicked me out of the school. Said they had a problem with me hitting the kids that would call me p***, still sit in the classroom, chilling. I’m angry now that I’m older cause I see they treat us different. Got me thinking I’m the problem ‘cause they never dealt with these issues.” — See what I meant about no punches pulled. He said that! He said it like that too. There is so much in this verse that I relate to, it hits a little too deep. I grew up as a brown in predominantly white communities where the colour of my skin was the reason I was outcasted. We know when that’s happening, clear as day. The lyric “got me thinking that I’m the problem cause they never dealt with these issues” says it all. I have many racial traumas that I’m dealing with as an adult because the adults around me when I was a child didn’t deal with racism in the classroom. They do treat us different!

“20 years later, I’m still in the same boat. Tryna treat me like my grandpa, say I came up off the boat. Came to tell you what I stand for. Man I think you’re shit, a joke. How can I be civil when they got me by the throat? // Pushing my feelings down, you ain’t got it like them. ‘Boy your skin is so light.’ Ok motherfucker, take my name up on a flight. Try to convince immigration that your bloodline’s half white.” — Zayn talking his shit is my new favourite art form. How can I be civil when they got me by the throat? Something that I will always be enraged by is that POC are expected to de-escalate situations of racism. We have to push our feelings down, as Zayn says in the verse, because the institution is against us. All of the institutions are against us. The fact that he takes it a step farther to say that his name makes him a target for racism, even though he is half-white just nails his point home. Also, can we please quit the whole ‘Zayn is white-passing’ bullshit. He alludes to it again later in the song (“asian in my face, but still my race you can’t define”). Its not a compliment to erase someone identity in favour of white-washing them.

“My name ain’t on the list unless they label it ethnic.” — Oh, the amount of times we have heard that age old (v. racist) saying ‘{celebrity of colour} is the new [insert white celebrity here]’ as if POC aren’t allowed to succeed in their own right. It is wild to me that Zayn has to deal with this given his level of success.

“Start to understand why they think that I’m threatening. I move in certain ways, couldn’t slow me with ketamine.” — There is a subtle nod to racism (and Islamaphobia) in this line, because of course the brown man is a threat, but I like the way Z turns it around. I also like the rhyme scheme.

“Raised on the benefit for whose benefit? They’ll never learn shit, man, if the shoe fits.” — Okay I might be reaching here, but this is just my interpretation. We all know the benefit system in the UK sucks. Being raised on benefit implies a lack of money growing up, but the benefits aren’t really all that beneficial to the families that rely upon them.

“Dealing with the hurt, they should know cause they don’t deserve it, it hit deep cause I hit the nerve.” — Well, okay then, just call me out. It’s fine. I seriously feel like he’s talking to me directly with this line. I imagine a lot of us do. Its one of those lyrics that are a bit too honest but that why we love them.

“Cathartic, I’m an artist. Trying to put my heart in” // “Freedom fighter, Yellow Metal is my name.” — So do we have an alternate persona for Zayn now? Alright, I’m down. I think these two lines are tied together, because both are mentioned in the song title. (I think of the song as cathartic, by Yellow Metal, aka Zayn, or Yellow Metal as the name of the EP if this was officially released). The lyrics that accompany both title lyrics, along with the subject matter of the song as a whole, suggest that his heart is in standing up against injustices. I said it earlier, this is the most unvarnished version of Z that we have ever been exposed to. Almost like the complete picture to the puzzle pieces we’ve been putting together over the years.

“They’re tryna kill us with disease.” — Why did this line scream out ‘COVID-19 outbreaks in developing countries’ to me? Again, I might be reaching, but there is a disparity between how COVID is treated amongst minorities, along with many other diseases, and not to mention rich, primarily white countries hoarding vaccine supplies while places like India (and my beautiful Bangladesh and I’m sure Pakistan too) suffer needlessly.

“Started something sick and on my mind is what’s next. Just became a dad so now I’m taking all the cheques. Better know I’m staying and paying like it’s debt. Imma get it done, if it’s taking all my breath, sweat, and down I ain’t messing around ’til I’m the best.” — I think this lyric shows off Zayn’s sentimental side more than it does his ambitious side, because we know he’s in this for the long haul. Others may doubt that but his fans never have. But hearing him talk openly about being a father on a song is something else. It’s like Khai added this whole other layer of meaning and purpose to his life and it’s beautiful to watch. I’ve been here since the X-Factor auditions guys!! It makes me so emotional to witness him like this.

“Aint many of me around, p***, I’m just different. Certain stages to this level aint here because fame is to the devil, fuck a label, imma do this from the ghetto.” — God, we’ve been waiting for a fuck the label moment in this house, haven’t we? I won’t get into my theories on his label or his team, but none of us deny the fact that they should be doing more for him than they are. He has the potential to be the biggest thing with the right team and promo because he has a built-in fan base that would go the mile for him. Obviously, there’s also his aversion to promo to contend with and that’s his decision. Even without it, he could shatter every ceiling. Another thing I want to mention about this verse is the nod to the complete lack of South Asian representation in contemporary Western media.

“Don’t know what’s worse: the way that you live your life or the way that you write a verse.” — I’m just putting this in here because it made giggle. Also going to take this space to say how much I love his energy in this song. He knows he’s the shit, as he should!

“Can’t be louder … so free Gaza on my banner.” // “They’re hating on Palestine ways.” — I love that Zayn has always supported this movement, years ago, before being ‘woke’ was a thing. But now, he has a daughter that has Palestinian heritage and I’m sure that makes this hit that much deeper for him, personally. The apartheid in Palestine is heart-wrenching. It’s so strange to me to watch it happen, because I never thought I would witness something like this happening in 2021, yet here we are.

“Like vipers, I see the sly ones, the snake that’s called Biden, none of them abiding what they might put in writing. We should be used to it by now, say whatever for the vote and then just choose another route. Say they’d never kill another unless that brother’s skin is brown. I’m just telling you the facts, if you can’t take it, the truth naked, to bare bones and my thoughts lately, spitting politics.” — This verse is straight up savage and I am living for it! I find it hilarious that he called Biden a snake. This verse addresses the truth about politics, that even electing a left-wing leader doesn’t fix the system.

“I’m Tony Stark, still embarking on a dream” // “Gone green like Bruce Banner” // “He taught me like Ra’s Al Ghul. Felt like living in Gotham, the people were rotten.” — And to tie it all off, I wanted to take a goofy moment to mention all the superhero lyrics Z added in this song, really showing his personality because I’m such a nerd when it comes to this stuff and it makes me wish that we were friends so I could annoy him to death about it.

#reviews #zayn #yellow metal #cathartic #zayn malik

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randomwords247 · 4 years

Photo

Cuz people said yes, here’s the sketch, thumbnail and an alternate thumbnail for the title page! (as well as it feat: the old words and no lighting or background)

First picture is the sketch, second is the thumbnail, third is the alternate and fourth is added bonus uwu

I loooveee talking about the process of things, and seeing others talk about their process. It’s so much fun seeing how something was made!!!

Rambling about my experience/process below the cut!!

I knew since the comics gonna be about Future Hilda and, well, the Time worm of course, that I wanted the page to be around them as a main focus. I had a few ideas and, originally did the alternate thumbnail. I wanted her to maybe be on the timeworm and be nervous because heck timeworm. But I wasn’t liking how the pose felt, it felt stiff and like there wasn’t as much stakes sorta thing

So then I started thinking about the moment in the show where Hilda is being chased through all the different time portals by the worm. And I added the other two hildas (added being theyre stick figures JHASDHJDAS)

I liked this one the most and went with it, starting to do the sketches themselves! Figuring out the placements for the rest of the worm was hard and I did have a few hidden layers of messing around to see what worked and what didnt - this was a problem that bugged me even into lineart. But I do like what I settled on. Could I have done better? Probably, but I did like it Tildy was a late addition cuz of how I was struggling with the worms jhasdjhdas

Lineart was really fun, and wasn’t too difficult - I struggled a bit with future hilda and had to redo some bits like the eyes to make them look right, but honestly?? It was jolly fun XD

I actually found out as I was tryna get a colour reference for the time worm, that it hecking changes colour. Like. It goes from white and blue and sorta gradients into this red and sorta light yellow-orange colour. WHICH IS REALLY COOL IMO but it also made it a lil more difficult cuz I had to figure out what colours to do where and all, and I could only do the gradient once. I fiddled with the gradients and the colours a LOT, trying out different colours, even going darker then what they were in the show at one stage.

Then came. *hisses* the portals. Goodness gracious figuring out how to make them look right was a right job and a half. I started at around 4 am (I’m on night shift so my wake/sleep cycle is reverse don’t worry I didn’t pull an allnighter-) and had finished them by around... 10 am? Judging from my discord messages asking one of my friends for opinions JSAHDHJDAS.

I fiddled around with them a LOT and tried a lot of different things, many of which ended up being deleted becuz I had to try and keep my layer count down so it wasn’t too cluttered/confusing. I do really like the way they turned out in the end, and I got into a decent method for doing them, but goodness gracious it was a difficult one to figure out. I did like a different layer for each colour - one for the light colour inside, one with low opacity for the inside, the white outside, the glow, then a colour on top to make sure it gave off a specific colour light. As well as that I had to make a seperate layer for the parts of the worm interacting with the portals so that I could smoothly make it look like it was inside of them - that was also kinda difficult

THEN CAME LIGHTING! This part was FUN. For everything I covered it in a very dark purple turned down to I believe 66% opacity, since everything would be mostly shadows - I then went through and erased where I felt light would probably hit. I used a smoother brush for the worm, since it was bigger and moved further away so the light wouldnt be as hard on it. And it looked nice jhashjsd.

Then, using another clipping mask layer, I individually added a small gradient of the portal colour - so it seemed more believable that that was what was giving out the light. It was a really nice finishing touch honeslty

So, while I know theres a lot I probably could’ve done better, I honestly had a blast and I’m gonna be starting on sketching out the first page to figure that out. I’ve only been thumbnailing things recently, maybe a month??? Or so??? I’m not sure, but I can definitely reccomend it - it helps with figuring out the poses without ruining a well done sketch, and definitely helped me out with this a lot.

Honestly I’d say at the end of the day, have fun, try and experiment, and use references!!! I had a whole folder of files with references up, from Future Hilda to Tildy to the Time Worm to the portals themselves, each of which I had at least 2-3 references for. It helps a lottttt

Uh if you read this far then thanks!! Sorry bout the rambling ^^’‘

#hope you like it uwu #i really like seeing peoples processes and rambling about mine #especially sketches #idk why but i love sketches a lot #its so fun seeing how ideas came to be and all #hilda and the lost future #randy's art #my art #hilda (hilda)#hilda netflix

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redheid · 4 years

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S supposed to be the most dismal fucking place you can imagine spending the holidays: cooped up in a dingey little flat wi a band of fellow smackheads who had all, completely unplanned but completely expectedly, upped and left their own different little homes aftir conveniently wanting tae go oan a Christmas eve walk tae breathe in the crisp air in an act of good health at the same time, not tae come back till the middle of the night tae whoever they’d lied to in the first place tae get oot. Tryna pass off whitever smack induced quiver they’ve taken thit’s letting them knock everything down in their war path in a nefarious attempt to act as the notorious bearded fucker thit should be climbing in through the chimney later thit night. (God forbid the ones thit go home tae a place wi kids in the house actually staying up tae try n catch a glimpse of the guy in red only tae find their brother or uncle or cousin tae be sneaking in through the backdoor in a total fuckin daze n no even noticing them and their bright peeking kiddy eyes peering oot through their bedroom doors before the fail to be santa collapses as close tae the door as they can, once they’ve made sure they’ve absolutely made it through the threshold of the house.)

The dismal place they’ve come from is dreamy tae me, probably tae the smackheads alike. The aftermath is the grim boxing day of the visit.

Swanney’s place’s got smoke stains seeped so far intae the walls you can hardly tell the colour they were painted in the first place. The respect tae the physicalities of the place went swiftly down from there, once people realised a kick in the wall by an angry punter or whoever had come storming the place was either never noticed or never bothered tae get fixed, totally left fir the dust tae gather; the place became an incoherent art installation fast.

For instance, right now ah lay sprawled oot against a wall, right in the corner, the crevice of the flat where the spiders typically gather and ah squash when ah sit oan them, where if you look up tae the other wall holding you up, just tae the side, and if you squint hard enough, you can just aboot make oot a tree oan it formed from some cunt’s handprints. If you squint harder, muck a few artificial additives intae yir system thit lets you see the wonder in the simplest things, like in a grotty little flat thit stinks of piss and farts and burning, you can pretend the weary stains oan the painted greenery are colourful little specks purposely put there as decoration. They nearly look like ornaments and you can nearly act like Swanney’s taken note of a calendar or the weather outside and dressed the place up for the festivities.

Obviously some artsy fucker came in one time thinking high enough oaf themsels tae start the handy masterpiece but no enough to finish it, it was no work of our Mother Superior, but it’s a tantalising thought tae imagine him wi a bowl of paint and a green hand. The furthest his goodwill extends for the holiday season is not booting you oot immediately once you’ve got your stuff (dependent on how many freaks and geeks had made their way to his place to score likes), not until he runs ootay walls fir the lot tae fall down on does he point tae the door and tell us tae get tae fuck.

Ah was one of the first few tae arrive, see, and ah had the cognisant joy of watching the rest trickle intae the place through a very slow set of blinking eyelids while I masel was in and oot oaf a daze. Ah was well fuckin intae ma experience n well oan ma way down when ah saw Swanney pointing at the door and talking aboot wanting the place clear.

— Ah’m no having any sleepers, Swanney sais. The only reason ah hear thit one, come to consciousness enough tae even register it as a sound directed anywhere in the vicinity oaf me, was through Sick Boy’s stinging voice next tae us near enough fucking pleading tae the fucker.

— Where’s the spirit, Swanney?

— Santy can come kicking down the chimney if he likes, Simon, but he’s no invited either,

Unfortunately, ah’m in no state tae argue, though ah had planned accordingly: tae be a sleeper during the day. Naw a dozer, actually. There was no sleeping, but the dozing state was paramount tae ma festive experience. Ma Rudolph riding time in the sky.

Ah was there at the perfect time tae ride is oot and still have a happy aftermath tae deal wi when ah was tae head back home under suspicion not at all tae be compared tae the likes of those stumbling in ruining the night when they pulled the Christmas tree and bunting, should the household be so inclined tae put it up, down wi them when they came back home and made their bed on the floor. Under no fucking circumstances would Mark Renton be found drooling intae the carpet oan Christmas morning.

Ah stand up without fuss. Simon is still rattling tae the side of me and ah nearly crumble intae the wall which is not at all of my own accord (it is in my best interest tae stay as firmly upright as ah can). Ah nod a see ya tae Swanney n mibbe mumble a happy holidays.

…

– Disnae seem fair is awl ah’m saying, Rents.

Ah nod a simple nod ah’m not at all mentally tied intae.

– Not thit ah care anyways, the cunt.

Ah nod again.

– Ah’ve got a lovely supper awaiting me.

Another fucking nod.

– Baccalà.

Again, ah nod nod nod.

– Cod. A lovely, salted cod. Not thit you’d know anything about thit wi your plea for animal rights.

– Ah’m vegetarian, Si.

– Vege-fucking-whitever, it’s no good fir yir health. Examplo numero uno, he points a cuntish finger tae hissel. Ah don’t know how he has the energy. The strained finger runs from his face and over tae me. – And you.

– Ah just dinnae like the taste.

– S no very à la Christmas is awl ah’m saying. It’s the time tae feast, abbondanza, Rents. Whit, you forcing your poor madre tae cook you thit tofu shite?

Ah don’t know how he has the appetite. Physically for the feast he’s claiming or mentally for the bothering he’s doing tae me. Ah shudder. It’s fucking freezing.

– Ah just eat around the turkey. Potatoes and carrots.

He tsks all better than. – Potatoes and carrots, fucking waste.

He continues but ah keep my arms tucked nicely around ma shaking body as we get tae the bottom of the road and ease the sound of his voice ootay ma heid.

Ah look over ma shoulder and catch a few more people heading outay Swanney’s, ah bet they’re no looking tae dae half as much talking as my solid companion, but I also suspect they’re not exactly people ah’m looking for company from, thit even if they did want tae talk as much as Sick Boy they winnae have half as much tae say. Who the fuck does?

Ah watch as the cold hits them and their arms shoot up too to cocoon themselves in a solitary embrace. Fair few have jackets oan them, thick enough ones are few and far between. Ah have oan ma bomber jacket, far too short and far too fucking thin tae do any good but make it look like ah’ve been existing from my hand-me-downs aged ten. Not so much fabric thit it would make a difference if I had ten of them oan.

The buzzing breaking through the cold turns intae a sharp prod in my arm. Ah look away from Swanney’s wi a scowl back at Si, the proprietor of said prod. – Whit? ah snap belligerently.

– Knew you were no fucking listening, fucking waster.

– Fucking cunt, ah mutter.

It disnae persuade him tae stop, disnae deter the fucker at awl. Ah let him go oan and oan till we make it tae our ain separate crossroads and head our ain separate ways. Wave a merry Christmas and he says something about the meat feast thit is Christmas day, whit his sister’s are cooking, and ah listen politely fir the fact ah cannae be bothered tae tell him how much ah could no care less until he finished up and ah stumble back to Fort Renton.

…

Aftir we got the flat off the housing department oan behalf of our Wee Davie’s various fucking various illnesses, the weeks approaching the end of December were awl aboot making solid attempts tae make it look homely, tae really work wi the tree we’ve had since Billy was born n give Cathy Renton something to focus oan other than when we were getting Davie home and if his bed was ready fir him and who was going to spoon feed him whitever they were planning tae. It was aboot showing how much the place was cared for as if people were watching (which, actually, ah suppose a good few were – the Curran’s a few doors down were hawkeyed and insisting we only kept Wee Davie in our care, living wi us like, until we got the new place tae live free of charge and shipped him oot the second we got the keys as if we’d pawn him off like thit).

This is the first Christmas there’s no really any of thit, even if ah see Mr Curran’s radge fucking face peeping ootay his blinds at us.

The measly tree dinnae go up until the 21st despite attempts from ma faither tae encourage Ma intae it n even when it did go up, she dinnae even really care thit the tinsel was looking the scraggiest it ever had. No thought tae go and get replacements.

Ma faither took the ‘good’ side of the tree n put it facing the front windae, as if people like the Curran’s were actually coming up tae ours and press their faces up on the glass tae see how we were treating the place aftir Davie’s death. Whether we were packing up tae give it up fir someone else who needs it.

Well fuck thit. Finders keepers losers fucking weepers. Ma faither’s intense need tae show the outside world our supposed love and respect fir the holidays, however, left the sight for sore eyes side of the tree fir us tae look at in the living room. He’s been squinting past the plasticy brambles and the shedding metallic tinsel thit’s covering the floor so he can watch the telly in peace fir the past two days and pretending it disnae bother him thit he has tae do it.

The good old Cathy Renton has been sitting desolate as can be oan the settee oan the other side of the room, pretending tae watch the telly and not at awl pretending tae care aboot the tree and lack of quality decor.

S fucking depressing if you ask me. Ah immediately miss Swanney’s when ah step through the door.

– Where’ve you been? Fucking Billy, doss cunt, waiting fir me tae get back. He looks like he’s been sitting in thit chair at the dining table since the moment ah left waiting for a festive confrontation.

– Last minute shopping wus it, son? Ma mother sais from the settee. Ah didn’t see her when ah came in but now thit a look at her ah see the blinking colourful lights off the tree bouncing off her wrinkled face.

Ah weakly present a facsimile of a laugh n a smile. – Something like it, yeah.

– Where’s yir shoppin then? Billy snidely remarks. This gets ma mother’s attention and ah see her brows take tae work and fold inwards at the hapless confusion.

Ah dinnae have the brain power fir this.

– Leave it, ma faither sais contritely from his chair and squints further past the tree. He also looks like he’s been firmly planted there since ah left however many hours ago ah did, glued tae the telly like he has been fir days, avoiding the sincere lack of coughing and the sound of ma mother slapping wee Davie’s back in the next room this year. Doof doof doof doof nae more.

It’s Billy’s bedroom now. The worst noise we’ll get from thit room has already been heard when Sharon, his new burd, comes over.

Fuck if ah’d ever bring a burd round tae muh ma’s house. I eye the fucker, repulsive.

– What? he says, as if he’d been up in ma brain wi ma thinking, as if he had free scope over thit domain. Ah sneer back but pretend it’s a smile because ah know ma’s still watching us outay the corner of her eye. She’s especially sentimental this year. Her two boys, her two wee yins. We’ve been partly trying tae get oan fir the sake of her this year. Course the picky fucker waits till crimbo eve till his resentment towards me rears its ugly head aftir awl the arguments we’ve ignored wi our ma in the room the past few weeks. It’s been bubbling up inside of him just like it has me and ah know he’s looking for the free second tae set up his sniper oan ma forehead.

– Boys, ma faither speaks. Ah look ovir and see he dinnae even do us the grace of looking from the tv. Ah look back at Billy who’s rolling his eyes at us, ah ball up a fist and pretend it’s just me tightening ma grip oan the shopping back ah did no at awl come back wi.

– 10am, ma da sais, – sharp. Mass, back here, dinner oan n eaten then sat back down here round the tv for 3pm.

– Aye, Billy says. The fucking suck up. Wouldnae miss the queen’s talk and a seat right next tae ma faither nodding the fuck along taw whitever the old trout has tae say fir the world. Highlight of their fucking year those ten minutes of insincere spiel wi cases and cases of gold surrounding her are. – Cannae wait.

– Aye, ah say, – riveting stuff. Ah’m always hold ma breath when she pauses fir too long case she keels ovir once n for awl. Christmas day, like, drama of it.

– S pre-recorded, ye dippit. Billy scowls at me. Ah cheer masel on in ma heid. Point Mark Renton.

– Ah know, but…

– Why yis sayin it then?

Ah scowl back. Never fucking mind.

– Please, Ma sais. She’s settled intae the flow of keeping her eyes directly on the glowing screen. Ah cannae quite bring myself tae lean intae thit, Christmas eve wi the family or no.

Ah nod an awright. Billy gets his eyes off me but not at awl before giving me the condescending nod of the century. Ah smile back thit same sneering smile from before and say – Ah’ll be going tae ma room then.

Billy tsks before anyone else gets a word in, ah glower at the side of his head but realise both of the parental figures have decided tae take the goodbye in visually and are looking right at me.

– Bed so soon? ma Da sais. – You’ve just got back.

– Excited for santy, Ma says in faux delight. There’s a dead enjoyment tae her voice thit’s got me thinking she’s been stuck on the lack of a doof doof doof doof in the next room too. Ah go along wi it fir the sake of fragility of any sense of okayness in this household.

– Aye, wanna be up early. Try and catch the man in red in the act.

This seems to appease them, Ma and Da at least. She gives a half-hearted smile and ma faither gives no outward reaction which seems tae be the best case. Billy the fucking bully looks at me fir another second like he knows where the fuck ah’ve been and ah’m sure enough he does, but he lets it settle too so ah sulk off tae the privacy of a closed door.

The locks are long gone but as long as ah act the way ah’m supposed tae when ah’m oan the other side of it, the shorter the times the door gets busted down by Billy or ma faither or wi a tentative knock from muh Ma.

Ah collapse like a lump oan the bed. Thump fucking thump, ah land. Ah close ma eyes and melt intae the fucker.

It’s no long till ah hear the tv switch off. Not too much longer till ah hear Billy slam his new bedroom door shut. Believe me, ah’m glad tae have a box tae masel now, a singular bedroom, not have to listen to the snoring fucker fart himself awake every other night, but ah despise the speed in which he claimed Davie’s room. The soil was fresh on his grave and the air in the coffin was yet to turn stale before he’d started hanging up his clothes in the wardrobe.

Doof doof doof doof doof. Thit was the sound ah used tae drift off to, Davie’s chest being knocked aboot and cleared so he could make it tae the next day. Ah was always surprised he could take such a beating. He always looked so fragile.

Naw, fuck this. Ah’m sooner gonna hear the footsteps of the immortal creep from the north pole tiptoeing across the roof delivering good and peace tae the Renton’s than the doof doof doof again. Ah shut ma eyes tighter, consider moving fir a few minutes tae organise masel enough tae put oan a record, but ah unfortunately spent all ma energy oan behaving as acceptably as possible when ah had entered the home. The rest of it had been spent making a dig at the queen tae piss off Billy in his suck up time wi our Da, who the fuck’s acting like the queen’s speech is the best part of a Christmas day anyways? Fucking idiot.

Ah ball ma hands up and shove them intae ma sockets till ah see stars. Ah have a headache coming oan. Ah let the balled fists fall down ontae the duvet either side of me (thump thump) and ah squint at the far end of ma room and ma green tinny locker turned closet. Ah reckon if ah asked Billy nice enough and gave him the lock fir it, he’d wait fir me to climb in and lock me in there till the 24th turned to the 25th to the 26th. If he were feeling especially nice he’d let me stay in there till the new year passed and he’d simply slide me the odd plate of dinner tae sustain me; let me wither away, but give just enough tinned whatever tae stay alive till ah had some kind of clarity and stopped hearing the doof doof fucking doof reverberating through my skull thit’s no fucking there.

Dear the red man thit would be climbing through our chimney if we had one, may you bring me somewhere cosier and more isolated fir the holiday season. Mibbe tae an undiscovered island, nothing too fancy: a few rocks, a couple palm trees and a coconut fir me tae drink outay. This year may you give me a bit of peace and fucking quiet. Leave me a note tae say yir coming and ah’ll slip outay ma room and leave the windae open a crack fir you tae sneak in through. Kind regards, Mark Renton.

#tbt #this was fun and it ends abruptly ish but it was still fun so idc:)#its like 3300 ish words ?#good job ive decided to write the next instalment in the trainspotting series ur welcome irvine welsh

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kvngjoong · 5 years

Text

felix + nsfw a-z

im sorry about this??? Idk when i started writing this but it took a weird turn. @ felix, if you do watch fortnite porn, no one here is going to judge you sweetie.

A: Aftercare

he’s a softie, and he needs taking care of. though he may present himself as tough, and he’s always one to fight your battles for you, when it comes to aftercare with felix he wants to get a little bit of tlc and needs you to be the one who’s doting over him. he wants you to calling good boy and stroke his hair, he wants you to hold him close to you and remind him how much you love him. take good care of him, please

B: Body part

he either lips your waist or your hips, he’s not quite sure yet, he likes the way you move your hips and have him hooked so easily, he also likes when you put his hands on your waist when you ride him and he accidentally leaves tiny bruise marks in you. as for him, he surprisingly likes the way he’s so small and you can treat him like a true baby boy. he doesn’t really have a favourite for himself but it’s definitely got something to do with the contrast between how he seems and how he actually is

C: Cum

he cums a surprising amount, like an unexpected amount, and he somehow gets it everywhere unless it’s in you. saying that, you’ll still get it in your hair if you’re sucking him off, and it will still be on he bed and your hands and… it just gets messy. is this a sub thing? it’s definitely a felix thing

D: Dirty Secret

felix tried to keep this a secret for so long, he really did. you’d put his lack of a defence when others (especially jisung and hyunjin) would subtly flirt with you and you’d flirt back to see his reaction, down to the fact he was pretty laid back and didn’t care too much for the possibility of you cheating on him (cause he knows you wouldn’t, duh). as it turns out, felix enjoys watching you flirt with others and would probably enjoy watching another guy fuck you. he feels bad admitting to it, probably because he’s worried he’ll be judged, but damn if jisung wants to see how good you are with your mouth he just had to ask and felix would arrange it...

E: Experience

they feed the australian boys a whole other kinda thing, so none, but damn would you think so. watches fortnite porn. probably doesn’t know where to find ur clit. but you can teach him. you will show him everything he needs to know and he will listen obediently, cause he’s a good student and wants to please you

F: Favourite Position

literally anything. he doesn’t care. as long as you’re there and the end result is you cumming, him cumming, it’s all good. he knows some positions are better for different things, like when you’re tryna be intimate he’ll prefer missionary, but in general they’re all pretty good. you know what you’re doing and each one pleases him, so why judge?

G: Goofy

a little. he doesn’t really have a ‘sub space’ but he’s just naturally on the submissive side, so his humour and personality doesn’t really change too much when you guys are doing nsfw things. he may be quick to make a joke at a given opportunity, but he won’t be trying to change the mood completely - that would be a bit weird

H: Hair

yeah a little. not very much. he seems a bit on the smooth side but what of it he has, he does groom and keep in check. unlike his cum, it’s not messy

I: Intimacy

like he’s not 100% goofy, he’s not 100% intimate. if it’s there and the time is right for you to be intimate then he’s all down for it, but if it’s not intimate and you’re literally just doing it cause he got a boner and you’re tryna help out, he’s not gonna be ott on the intimacy. he keeps it real

J: Jack Off

not that much, he saves it for you. he’s frequent to the trope of ‘i’m horny but they’re gonna be home soon, whatever should i do’ and will time it perfectly for you to walk in on him when he’s about to cum, just so you can help him! what a clever boy. he’s a power bottom that doesn’t really have much power apart from in his brain (he’s an intellectual, unlike the rest of us)

K: Kink

so the cuckold stuff was hinted at already, and so was the sub stuff. he’s a bit of a typical sub blond, you know, the whole ‘i wanna please you so badly please let me touch you so i can get you off’ kind thing, he’s literally desperate to please you. he would probably like threesomes/moresomes, but mostly threesomes. he’s not really that kinky tbh. he likes roleplay a bit too much, but that’s how things get a bit kinkier. his fave is when he gets a full manual exam from you, the overly enthusiastic medical examiner

L: Location

anywhere tbh. if you’re there, and he’s there, there’s no problem. shower, kitchen, bedroom. they’re all rooms, you know. so it doesn’t bother him. he’s not too worried about getting caught so there’s not much stopping him, unless you are

M: Motivation

he likes it when you look a little darker than him. not full goth or anything, but he loves dark colours/black on you - anything dark. that’s not just underwear, though. literally black jeans and a black leather jacket could have him breathing a little heavier than usual and him getting touchier than he usually is. oh, there's the flirting with other guys, not that you know that much about it

N: NO

he doesn’t like being teased really. it’s not the best thing for him, and in return he won’t tease you either. so it’s a win win, really. the only person missing out is you when you wanna take things slow but felix just wants to cum. other than that, there’s not much! he’ll explore his hard limits with you

O: Oral

he prefers receiving for one reason: he’s got a bit of an insecurity about giving oral. he is still a shy baby boy who is always worried he’s not enough for you. he really thinks that he doesn’t do well enough so shies away from it. at first you think he’s making it up but after a few conversations it’s obvious that his fear is real and you decide to give him a masterclass in giving, specifically tailored to you

P: Pace

felix is on the slower side, but gets quicker with time. he starts slowly, savouring the moment as he can, but that’s soon forgotten and the one thing he wants to do is cum, same with you. it’s a bit of a mess, but it’s worth it. but technically you tip, so you can decide what the pace is, really

Q: Quickie

not really. felix will have a few quickies in his time but they’re not really worth it. not unless you’re wearing like… a black silk dress and military boots and your make up is really dark and he really can’t keep his hands off you. but even then he’d just leave early. so he avoids them unless they’re necessary, or you’re asking for them

R: Risk

he doesn’t really see much of a risk in anything. he’s a bit carefree and the whole prospect of getting caught so just rolls with it. so to him risk play doesn’t really exist

S: Stamina

since there’s not much teasing, felix can go on for ages. doesn’t mean he will, not unless you wanna, but he can keep going until you really, really can’t keep up with him

T: Toy

you can pick, he’s down either way. maybe shake it up, sometimes use toys and sometimes don’t. have him wondering each time. but don’t tease him, use it to make things more intense

U: Unfair

like before, he doesn’t really like teasing at all so he’s not gonna enjoy this element of things. you can try it but he’ll not be into it. not unless it’s part of whatever role play you’re doing. he just doesn’t seem like a guy who wants to be teased or likes to tease

V: Volume

he… he is loud. but just imagine his really deep voice as he gets closer and closer to cumming and he gets louder but somehow he gets deeper and he has his hands in your hair as you deepthroat him and… i gotta step there. he’s loud, he moans and he groans, and it’s always husky and enough to make you stop and stare for a few seconds to remember what you were doing

W: Wild Card

there was one time when you guys were a bit drunk after a birthday or something and felix practically begged you for sex. it was great sex, no lie, but it wasn’t until the next morning when you woke up in an unfamiliar room, an even more unfamiliar bed, that you realised what you had done. luckily it wasn’t jisung’s bed or the kid would have found so much pleasure in mocking you both for that. not that minho was best pleased

X: X-Ray

yeah, he’s on the smaller side. mostly because he’s tiny in general, but it’s nothing to be disappointed with

Y: Yearning

nah, not too much. felix isn’t that needy unless he’s already in the act and he’s desperate to please you. after he’s been away from you for a while though, he will start to miss you quite a bit. he’ll be the one who lusts after you each day until you see him again, and when he finally does see you he is ready to give you absolutely everything

Z: ZZZ

he sleeps after, usually be accident. he likes cuddling afterwards and tries to act like he’s paying attention to what you’re saying but a few minutes of you talking and he’s out like a light. take it as a complement, he really likes your voice and it soothes him

#Felix smut #felix reactions #Felix scenarios #felix imagines #felix lee smut #stray kids smut #stray kids reaction #stray kids scenario #stray kids imagine #stray kids #a-z

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bakatenshii · 4 years

Text

Shouto x Marquie HCs

It’s 00:48AM here so technically it is no longer your birthday, but let’s just pretend it is because it’s the 17th in some time zone okay.

I wish I could say I came up with this concept all by myself, but my other ovary @theygottheircages actually did, so you could say she co-wrote this. Anyways, don’t kill me for the first few bits, I promise it’ll get better! Happy birthday my love, my ray of sunshine @mindninjax you deserve all the love in the world.

Shouto Todoroki was never brought up like most children; childhoods filled with laughter and friends, aimless ambitions and whatnot.

He never had any experience interacting with others his age, or anyone really in general. Which brings us to:

Bullet point 1: Shouto Todoroki does not understand social cues.

Shouto Todoroki is a loser

It’s almost painful for us to see him stumble into conflicts in conversations he has no part of being in. (It provides some good entertainment, though)

But Shouto being Shouto, glorified hotter version of Zuko (I SAID WHAT I SAID), still has girls throwing themselves at his feet. No one is surprised. (Except maybe M*neta)

But Shouto also being Shouto means he has no fucking clue about how to treat a girl.

This boy can barely read the room, you think he can understand women? Madness

So as per, after Shouto’s third dumping, everyone came up with a game:

A bet; How long before Shouto gets broken up with this time?

Is it mean? Maybe a lil. But is it funny? It sure fucking is.

He doesn’t get it. Shouto? Cue the confused math lady meme.

He just doesn’t understand why these girls pursue him for weeks, spill their loves out to him, to... break up with him a week later? r/woosh

Anyways, the most recent break-up had him more confused than usual. The girl had said something along the usual lines of, ‘you just don’t get me, do you even like me?’, but then there was a comment slid in there about how she’d found another man who’d treat her better.

Another man? So she didn’t like him while they were dating?

Bullet point 2: Shouto Todoroki did not ask to be cucked.

Up til now, yall are probably like, this is just Shouto slander! Angel, where is protagonist!! We didn’t sign up for this!!! (Except you did, welcome to my blog where I make the rules hehe)

And for this crack headcanon, we throwin’ in a lil twist. In this headcanon, the hero’s not gonna save our protagonist. Our protagonist saves our hero.

Enter: Marquie

Well, technically, Marquie is exiting the building (Angel shut up you’re not funny) of her work when she spots a suspicious young man...

setting fire. To what? fuck knows.

But there’s the distinct flare of flames that are lighting up the alleyway (yes! another alleyway!! sue me!!!)

and Marquie? Nah, she’s not having that. How dare someone commit arson, do they know how environmentally damaging that is? God

She marches up to the man, already preparing the script to tell him off:

“What are you doing? We can’t afford more pollution, not in this city—“

He turns around and she comes face to face with...

a Zuko cosplayer.

With duo-coloured eyes and duo-coloured hair.

It’s all a lil ridiculous because who the hell dyes their hair that colour, but also more concerning is that he’s setting fire to what looks like the iceberg that sank the Titanic.

(cue a tomato being thrown on stage because that’s positively the worst joke I’ve made up to date)

He just stares at her though, because frankly, he’s a lil slow.

No, but genuinely the screws in his brain’s just turning tryna figure out why this woman’s just coming at him before—

oh.

and he proceeds to deadpan an explanation about being a hero and his quirk that frankly is a bit too convenient but he’s cute and Marquie’s a bit of a sucker for cute boys so.

Marquie!! do we need a bit of background info? Well I’m about to spoonfeed it to yall anyways.

Marquie is the human embodiment of a ray of sunshine, can make conversation with just about anyone, and honestly, you just subconsciously get whirled into it. Caught up in her flow and whatnot.

Which is precisely what happens, and yeah sure, Shouto’s not giving her much to work with, bc since when was he the talker of the century?

He’s still got the same expression on his face, but he’s enjoying it. He swears, can you not tell?

For once, he doesn’t feel as if the girl’s expecting anything out of him, doesn’t feel pressured to fulfill her image of him, whatever that is. He hasn’t even figured it out himself.

She’s so excited, as she always is. Soon as she realized he wasn’t harming the environment, in fact, staying behind to clean up his mess, he was in her good books.

And a hero? Mate, she’s got a list of questions the length of that Spongebob meme. You know the one. (no, not the ‘The’ one.)

It happens naturally, they’re just going with the flow. He’s still not giving out much input, but she’s more than content with whatever singular-word answer he gives.

It’s fun, and cute, blah blah, their personality just meshes, you know?

They’re grabbing food together because Marquie’s just got off work, and he’s off patrol, and honestly, why the fuck not.

The story’s gotta progress somehow, init.

And the story progresses like this:

They start spending more time together, because the area he patrols just happens to be where she works.

(God! Angel pulling the strings of fate once again.)

He’s frankly surprised she’s not gotten bored of him, or been offended he seemed so ‘disinterested’ (even though he doesn’t think so, it’s just his face, probably)

She’s happy with him just the way he is, he’s good company, although Marquie could make anyone good company. She’s just that likeable.

She knows how to have a good time, and if she has a good time? You can’t help but also have a good time.

I knooow the motto of my blog is ‘fuck a slow burn’ but man, you want me to write fast burn Shouto? (I didn’t make a pun, everyone thank me for that.)

He’s surprised, you know? Never has a girl just spoken to him so casually, without any traces of ulterior motives (not that he could’ve picked any up, what even are social cues?) and somehow, she’s always managed to know what he’s feeling.

She says something like— I can tell by the expression on your face, it’s pretty obvious— to which we reply:

No, Marquie. That’s just you. Shouto’s got a total of 2 distinguishable expressions and it’s when he sees Endeavor and when he doesn’t.

So yeah, whatever, we all know where this is going. He’s blushing more around her, finding himself wanting to see her more and, what do you know.

Bullet point 3: Shouto Todoroki’s got a crush.

Not that he knows what that is. But Marquie sure does, so instead of the guy taking the lead (because fuck gender roles!! yeah!) she makes the first move.

And when she tells him he’s an idiot for not realizing, we’re all snorting because— now you realize he’s an idiot?

Yeah he’s an idiot, but he’s her idiot, you know?

(GAG, VOMIT)

And maybe he’s googling for the first time: Where to take a girl out on the first date? What to buy a girl for her birthday?

He can’t for the life of him figure out why he doesn’t want to fuck this up this time, but it’s okay baby, we’re all patiently waiting for you to grow up. It’s okay. (It’s kinda endearing)

And that leads us to our final point:

Bullet point 4: Shouto Todoroki will never be cucked again. Marquie has saved him from the cucking, congratulations.

You heard it here first: Cuck Wars 2020 has been ended by Marquie.

tags: @enjifuckersupreme , @theygottheircages , @yukiimanic , @lookslikeleese , @rat-suki , @baku-no-alt , @blahkugo , @sanguinekeigo , @pomsuki , @zahrashallucinations , @saratour , @red-riot-girl642

#CUCK WARS 2020 #THIS IS CANON #DONT FIGHT ME #I hope I tagged everyone!!!!#everyone enjoy this bit of pure unadulterated crack #i hope shouto isnt ooc #SHOUTO STANS DONT COME FOR ME #I LOVE HIM TOO OK #hes just a lil slow #BUT THATS OKAY!!!#matchup hcs #here we go lads

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neerasrealm · 4 years

Text

Like It Here

A story about Alice adapting to her new home while Zero silently judges her. And also Clockwork tries to fistfight Jason every five seconds. Typical day in the Zalgo household.

Words: 2025

She didn’t like it here.

She was small, timid, quiet. She belonged somewhere else, somewhere normal, or even back in that horrible, horrible house where she was afraid to move or make a sound. Anywhere, anywhere but the realm of the one they called Zalgo.

She replayed it all in her head again. The beating, the voice, the blood on her new black hands. She looked down at them again. Her outfit had changed. When she didn’t know, but the thing that concerned her more was her body. White skin that was black in certain places, such as her hands, knees, elbows and eyes, white hair that had gone from greasy and flat to big and fluffy but most of all- her strength. She was stronger, far stronger than a fifteen year old girl like her should be. She’d almost broken a couple things already.

‘’So are you just gonna sit around and sulk?’’

That was new too.

The voice.

She looked up at the voice’s owner. They looked exactly like her, same outfit and all. They blew white hair out of their grey eyes. Zero. Her childhood imaginary friend who was somehow...real? Alive? She didn’t know how- but she was here, hovering above her like a spirit that wouldn’t leave.

‘’I-I’m not sulking.’’ she replied defensively.

‘’Uh-huh. Because sitting on your bed alone sniffling and hugging your knees isn’t sulking.’’

‘’I’m scared alright!’’ Alice snapped back. ‘’You were a lot nicer when I was a kid…’’

Zero sighed and floated down to her. ‘’Listen, Alice,’’ the girl looked up at her slowly. ‘’I’m just tryna protect you. The world’s rough, but you’re safest here.’’

‘’You call this safe?! Did you see some of the things living here?! It’s black and dark and scary!’’

‘’Yes but you’re protected!’’ Zero reached out and held Alice’s face in her hands. Somehow Alice could feel her touch. ‘’Nobody will let you be harmed. Especially not me.’’

‘’Mmm…’’

Alice didn’t get a chance to reply. Not that she was going to. There was a knock at the door behind her. She whirled around staring at it, then looked back at Zero, who frowned. ‘’What?’’

‘’You answer it.’’

‘’Me?! Why do I gotta?’’

‘’Because you’re protecting me!’’ Alice hissed. Zero huffed. It went dark for a second and suddenly Alice was watching her own body climb off the bed and walk towards the door. She was floating, just like Zero had been moments ago. It was a surreal experience...and she didn’t like it. At all. The sooner she got control back the better.

Zero opened the door and looked up. A tall, muscular man with long red hair stood in the doorway. He wore a simple white shirt, brown vest, black pants and black boots. He looked down at Zero, looking unamused and irritated. The man's name was Jason, and apparently he lived here. Alice's spirit moved over to the doorway, which surprised her a little. She hadn't tried to move at all.

"Zalgo asked me to get you." He said. Without waiting for a response, he walked away from the door and down the hall. Zero stepped out of the bedroom, pulled the door closed and quickly walked after him. It took Alice a second to realise she had to follow. She hesitated, then made a swimming motion to move herself forward. It seemed to work- though she'd never seen Zero move like that.

"Alice!" Her thoughts were interrupted by Zero snapping at her. She could hear her voice perfectly despite the fact that she was at the opposite end of the hall. "What're you doing?"

"F-Floating…?"

Zero rolled her eyes and walked down the stairs. "Just think 'I want to move' and your ghost will do the rest." Zero's mouth didn't move as she spoke- how did she do that? "It's called telepathy. We share a body so we can hear thoughts. Honestly it's like- babysitting a child!"

Alice glared at Zero as she floated after her. "No need to be rude. Not like I'm used to being a ghost!"

"Would you like your body back?'

"N-No I'm- I'm okay."

Zero stepped through a door she'd seen Jason disappear into and froze.

She was in a...kitchen. Just a regular old kitchen. It even had a 'Live, Laugh, Love' sign hung up on one of the walls. If this wasn't off-putting enough, the kitchen had people in it. There was Jason, of course, sitting at the dining table. There were two others with them. The first was a woman in a white mask who wore a black dress. She had long black hair that swung when she turned to look at Zero, and her skin on her arms looked...leathery, and burnt. The other was a girl with long, messy brown hair. She wore a blue jacket, white shirt and black pants. Alice's gaze went to the girl's face. She had scars running either side of her mouth that looked like stitches, and her right eye- it wasn't an eye at all. It was a clock.

"Lord Zalgo." Zero said before kneeling down, bowing her head. Alice looked up and over at the man at the stove. He turned to look at them.

He was...handsome. Almost- too perfect looking. His skin was a shining bronze colour, decorated with tattoos that ran up one arm in spirals and covered the other completely in teal ink. His hair, short at the sides but long at the front, hung partially in his eyes. His hair was a smoky black that turned grey towards the top, like smoke. His face had a small amount of stubble on it, which just served to make him even more handsome. His eyes were gold, and so bright she noticed them almost immediately. They looked straight at Zero with...amusement.

His name was Zalgo. And he was the man who would protect her, so long as Zero worked for him.

"Come now, there's no need to bow." He said. Zero looked up in surprise. Jason and the clock girl both snickered at her, which made Alice cross her arms and look away defensively. Zero stood up and cast a nervous glance at the trio at the table.

"Did you- need something, my lord?" She asked.

"Well yes," Zalgo looked at her. "I need you to eat. I'm sure both you and Alice are starving." He smiled at them and gestured to the table. "Take a seat, you two. Get to know your new housemates."

Zero paused for a moment, seemingly caught off guard by this, but she did as she was told, taking a seat across from Jason. She glanced at the other two girls, waiting for a conversation to start.

"How old are you, Zero?" The masked woman finally asked.

"Hm? Well I'm- I mean technically I'm only a few days old, but the concept of me was made eleven years ago- Alice is fifteen."

"That...makes no sense but okay." The clock-eyed girl said. Jason sighed.

"Zero is a demon Zalgo made to control Alice's body and work for him. She looks exactly like Alice's childhood imaginary friend and acts similar to her." He explained.

"Why do you always know this shit?" The clock girl asked, sounding annoyed.

"Because I'm reliable, unlike you."

"Oh I'll show you reliable you fucking anime wannabe-" she growled, standing up quickly.

"Natalie," Zalgo interrupted. "No fighting during family dinner." He shot her a firm look and she sat down again, grumbling to himself. Jason smirked smugly.

"So where is Alice?" The masked woman asked. Zero looked at the spirit hovering just above her.

"Care to introduce yourself?" She asked telepathically. Alice shook her head. Zero rolled her eyes. "She doesn't want to come out right now. We share the body."

‘’I see.’’ She said. ‘’Well, I’m Jane. It’s a pleasure to meet you. We’re very happy to have a new face here.’’

‘’Speak for yourself.’’ Jason muttered, leaning back in his chair.

‘’Ignore him. He’s angry all the time because a girl rejected him like a century ago.’’ Nat said. Jason glared at her.

‘’We were just friends. Maybe if you listened to me for once-’’

‘’Can’t hear you, I don’t speak weeb.’’

‘’Natalie! Leave him alone. We’re trying to make Zero and Alice feel welcome.’’ Zalgo interrupted before the two could fight. He walked over to the table, carrying a large tray of food. He set it down and passed out plates of food, then slid some large bowls down the table. Zero and Alice looked over the food curiously. Each plate had an entire steak on it, along with some mashed potato, fried mushrooms and a small cup of gravy. Looking at the bigger bowls, the two saw they contained more mashed potatoes and steamed vegetables. Zalgo smiled to himself and grabbed a large bottle of what looked like it could be wine or champagne off the tray. Effortlessly, he popped the cork off and poured drinks into four of the fancy glasses sitting on the tray. The first two looked to be wine but the third was a darker purple colour, and fizzy. The fourth was wine coloured but- also looked fizzy. Zero frowned. Zalgo looked at her. ‘’What would you two like to drink?’’ He asked.

‘’Uh-’’

‘’Ask him for cranberry juice.’’ Alice whispered. Zero scrunched up her nose.

‘’Ew no.’’ she murmured, giving Alice a judgemental glance. She looked back at Zalgo. ‘’Soda?’’

Zalgo gave a nod and poured from the bottle again. Instead of wine or the orange drink it was...well, soda. As the glasses were passed to each person Zero took an experimental sip.

Yep, regular old soda.

‘’How’d he do that??’’ Alice murmured. Zero shrugged.

‘’Magic I guess.’’ she thought back. She put down her glass and grabbed a knife and fork, digging into her (perfectly cooked) steak. It was quiet until Zalgo spoke again.

‘’So, Zero,’’ he said. ‘’I’m sure you must have questions about this place.’’ he leaned on the table, resting his face on his hands with a small, kind smile.

She swallowed. ‘’Not particularly.’’ she said. ‘’As long as Alice is safe I don’t have any objections to what’s asked of me.’’

Zalgo looked disappointed with the answer. ‘’Oh, come now Zero. No need to be so formal.’’ he tilted his head. ‘’I created you to look after Alice and protect her. I brought you here to help you keep her safe. You working for me is just repayment.’’

Zero opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by Alice tapping on her shoulder. She looked up. ‘’Can you ask him why he cares about me so much?’’ she murmured. Zero looked back at Zalgo, who arched a brow curiously.

‘’Why do you care about Alice?’’

‘’Well why wouldn’t I?’’ he responded. ‘’She was a person in need. I help people in need.’’ he gestured to Nat. ‘’I found Natalie outside her burning home and gave her somewhere to stay. I found Jane in the burning remains of her home after her family was taken from her,’’ he smiled a bit looking at Jason. ‘’Jason didn’t burn anything down, but I found him at a time when he was weak, and needed someone to support him. I was that support.’’

‘’Worst decision of your life, Zalgo my man.’’ Nat interrupted. Zalgo shot her a look before turning back to Zero, his expression softening.

‘’I just want the best for you all. The world is...harsh…’’ he looked down, a sad look crossing his face. Zero and Alice both frowned. He looked up at them and brushed hair from his face. ‘’My apologies I- got lost in thought for a moment.’’ he sat up in his chair. ‘’Please, don’t be afraid to ask questions if you need to. I want both of you comfortable here.’’

Zero nodded. ‘’We will.’’ she glanced at Alice for a moment, then back at Zalgo. He grabbed his knife and fork and cut into his steak. He looked up at her, then nodded at her plate.

‘’Well? Eat up. You’re probably both hungry.’’

‘’Oh uh- yeah. We are.’’

#creepypasta #creepypasta fanfic #creepypasta fanfiction #zalgo #zalgo creepypasta #zero #zero creepypasta #alice jackson #clockwork #clockwork creepypasta #jane the killer #jason the toymaker #writing

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viskovie · 4 years

Text

Vitam Post Mortem

Warnings: language, Nux gets manhandled quite a bit

Disclaimer: none of these characters are mine

______________________________________________________________

heaven: (noun)

the expanse of space that seems to be over the earth like a dome —usually used in plural often capitalized: the dwelling place of a Deity and the blessed dead

______________________________________________________________

Fire. Grit. A flash of tangled red hair. An unfamiliar gesture. A glint of chrome. More fire. Thunder. Pain. And then… nothing.

Nothing.

~~~

Nux wakes up with a start, the last shreds of adrenaline coursing through him. He isn’t sure if he was dreaming or not. Perhaps he’s dreaming right now? Reality feels hazy and sluggish, sort of like when he takes those pills that Castellan makes – the ones that give you a good, long high but leave you feeling like you’ve been run over by the War Rig. He staggers to his feet as best he can, and rubs his eyes like a Pup just woken from a nap.

His vision is split into two blurry colours: orange below and stark, vibrant blue above. He blinks a few times and the colours sharpen into a horizon. Hot, golden sand stretches away for miles until it reaches up to touch the sky where it hangs. A soft stir in the air carries the thick smell of dust and dirt, but it’s not as stifling as it should be. It’s quiet enough that Nux can hear his own heart beating a steady rhythm in his chest, and the sound is comforting. It means that he’s still alive. He should, by all rights, be dead. Roadkill.

The details are slowly coming back. That’s how he knows the crash wasn’t a dream, and neither is this. In dreams, details slip away like precious drops of Aqua Cola spilled on the ground. He bites his lip, hard, and is rewarded by a stab of pain. It grounds him and helps to clear his head.

Nux brushes himself off and turns in a slow circle, taking in his surroundings. There’s nothing but dunes and endless blue sky, no matter where he looks. There’s not even a footprint in the sand around him, which is strange.

No footprints, no tire tracks, nothing.

Nux reaches for his knife, unable to shake the growing unease in the pit of his stomach. Maybe this is a nightmare? He stands motionless for a moment, but nothing jumps out at him. He sheaths the blade and sinks back down to the ground. He tries to remember exactly what happened in the chase and the resulting crash, but he can’t conjure up much. He knows that he finally got to drive the War Rig, although the experience was rather bittersweet. He was prepared to die. He’d known from the start that he wasn’t going to see the end of the story, and yet-

For the first time since the sandstorm that had dragged his lancer off the back of his – their – car, Nux allows himself to think of Slit. He’d seen him again in the pursuit, perched almost casually on the hood of Max’s old Interceptor, but it had felt like looking through the eyes of someone else. He hadn’t really registered that Slit was not only alive , but as wild and bloodthirsty as ever, until it was too late and his childhood friend was gone forever. Gone in a glorious, fiery explosion – just the way he’d always wanted to go.

Nux’s eyes prickle, and he scrubs at his face. War Boys don’t cry! They certainly don’t cry over the dead, no matter how much you loved them.

Initially, the two had been like brothers but, over the years, his feelings had morphed into something deeper, something far more painful. Losing a brother was gut-wrenching, but to love someone with your whole being and know that person didn’t love you back – that was infinitely worse.

It feels like a knife has been plunged into his chest, and Nux finally gives in. He cries.

~~~

He doesn’t know how much time has passed when he wakes up again. His head aches, and his eyes feel puffy and tender. He doesn’t need a mirror to know that they’re probably still bloodshot. The sun has long-since disappeared behind the distant horizon, and he’s lying curled up on the rapidly cooling sand. Somehow, he’s not sunburnt. He’s not hungry either, but his mouth is dry. He sits up, with difficulty, and yawns. He must have cried himself to sleep, and the thought sparks shame deep in his belly.

“You better not have been fuckin’ crying, traitor.”

Nux turns around so fast he thinks he’s given himself whiplash. Standing a few paces away, thick arms crossed over a heavily muscled chest, is Slit. He doesn’t look pleased. He adjusts his stance, settling his weight evenly on both feet, and skewers Nux with a poisonous look.

Nux can’t even bring himself to stand and face him. Instead, he looks away ashamedly, praying the darkness hides his eyes. There’s no point denying that he’d been in tears – no one could never lie to Slit. He somehow always knew. He tries to stifle the sob that threatens to spill out of his chest, but it escapes anyway. Behind him, Slit scoffs and makes a sound like he’s spitting on the sand. Nux doesn’t hear the crunch of footsteps, but suddenly Slit has him by the throat, from behind. He hisses, instinctively elbowing him in the ribs. Slit grunts, but his grip only tightens. Nux forces himself to go still. Slit has big hands, and he’s always been one of the strongest Boys; he’s more than capable of killing him right here. Slit will just keep crushing his airway until he suffocates – it won’t be the first time he’s had to kill someone that way.

“Givin’ up?” Slit taunts in his ear. Nux manages to suck in a deep breath, but doesn’t answer. “You’re lucky you’re already dead, y’know that? ‘Cuz if you weren’t, I’d send ya to Hell myself! ” Slit snarls, letting go of him and shoving him onto the ground.

It feels like Slit is revving up for a proper fight, so Nux rolls over to intercept the impending kick. But before he can get out of the way, Slit plants his boot on Nux’s chest. Nux doesn’t resist; he just lies there on the cold ground, the lancer’s words ringing in his ears. Lucky you’re already dead … Dead. He’s dead. He didn’t survive the crash, after all. That explains a lot. Then his brain kicks into gear, and he remembers something.

“You-” he coughs. “You died days ago!”

Slit’s face twitches. He’s seething. “Yes.” He bites out.

“I witnessed you. It was…” Heartbreaking. “Glorious.”

“I know.” Slit is clearly still furious, but he also sounds the tiniest bit smug now.

“Why- why aren’t you in Valhalla?” Nux asks tentatively. He’s going to cry again if he thinks about it too much. Slit growls, taking his foot off his chest and dragging him bodily to his feet.

“You tell me , you fuckin’ smeg.” He spits, and Nux flinches.

He doesn’t understand. He remembers that Slit didn’t Chrome himself, but he had witnesses and he had fire – surely that would have been enough to get him into Valhalla, into the Hall of Heroes? Slit must see his confusion in his face, because he grabs Nux’s chin and forces him to look to the right.

Huge, glittering gates stand where, a minute ago, there had been nothing. A sun, it seems, shines from behind them, lighting up the night and making it hard to look at them. Nux squints. The gates don’t appear to have a true form, as they shift and change every time he blinks. They’re chrome, and gold, and bronze, and more colours that he doesn’t have names for. The bars ripple like Aqua Cola, and appear solid as stone. Nux can’t see what lies beyond.

“Valhalla…” He murmurs, awestruck. Slit nods bitterly.

“I’ve been tryna get in for days now.” He says angrily, and Nux breaks his trance to look back into his face. “Can’t without ya, it seems.” Slit continues, looking like he wants to strangle Nux again. He lifts his hands, gingerly peeling his gloves off. Underneath, his palms are blistered and raw. A few of the blisters have popped, and his skin glistens in the light of the Gates. It looks painful.

“I tried to touch ‘em,” Slit rumbles, carefully putting his gloves back on. “Got burned every time.” He explains through gritted teeth. Nux’s stomach sinks. If Slit can’t get into Valhalla, then he’s got no chance. Slit is the War Boy ideal: he’s tough, he’s skilled, he’s ruthless, and – on top of everything else – he’s unfairly handsome. Nux shakes his head. No going down that road, not today. Or ever.

Slit is eyeing the Gates and drumming his fingers on his bicep. Suddenly, he grabs Nux’s hand and steps toward them. Nux hangs back reluctantly. If Slit’s hands got burnt, he’d probably go up in flames as soon as they got anywhere near.

If Slit notices his hesitation, he pays it no attention. He drags him forward, grimacing every now and then at the pain in his palm. They stop about two feet from the Gates, and Slit turns to look at him. The light emanating from Valhalla frames him like a halo. He looks like a god, and Nux feels his eyes well up again. He rubs at them until the tears are gone, pretending to have sand in his eye. Slit isn’t fooled. He glares menacingly, a muscle in his neck twitching.

“I can’t get into Valhalla by myself, dipshit, an’ if you fuck this up by cryin’ again…” He trails off, the unspoken threat hanging heavily in the air between them. Nux nods mutely, not trusting himself to speak. Slit takes him by the hand again and reaches for the Gates.

There’s a loud sizzle, like guzzoline splashing on searing hot sheet metal, and Slit recoils with a howl.

He drops Nux’s hand and rips his glove off again. It doesn’t come off cleanly. His skin has been burned again and the fabric has partially fused with it. Nux manages to keep from retching when he sees the mess that Slit’s palm has become, but it’s a nasty injury. Blood is running down his arm from where the mutilated skin has been torn away and, for the first time in his life, Slit is shaking. All the colour has drained from his face and he’s a little unsteady on his feet. Shock, Nux knows. Not fear, or even pain. Shock. Slit had been so sure this would work, that he’d finally achieve the eternity he’d given his life for.

He helps him sit down, and gently unties Slit’s scarf. He carefully wraps his mangled hand in it, even though he’s sure it’s not clean enough. But it’s not like they have anything better to use. When he’s finished, Slit lies back on the sand, staring up at the night sky. Nux glances at the Gates, but they’re gone. He lies down next to his lancer, unsure of what to do next.

There’s a few beats of silence. Nux has so much that he wants to say but he has no words to say any of it. He thinks about all the times they’d been together like this - the cool night air on their skin, the stars far above, flinging what he now knew to be “shows” across the universe. Neither of them were soft; they didn’t seek out moments like that, but had never shied away either.

He sighs, wishing away the tension between them. He’s disillusioned with the Immortan’s teachings, knows them to be false and self-serving, but here he is at the Gates of Valhalla. Was his betrayal the reason Slit couldn’t get in? If they could only enter together as Driver and Lancer, had he cost Slit hard-won eternal paradise? The thought worms into his mind and sticks there, taunting him cruelly.

Nux rolls over to face Slit, still unsure of how to voice his feelings. He decides to keep it simple. Slit always liked things to be simple.

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs. Slit doesn’t react. Nux frowns. Sure, the lancer has hearing problems but there isn’t even a breath of wind to carry the words away. He tries again, managing to be a little louder. Slit turns his head, his iron grey eyes drilling into him.

“I know. I heard you the first time.” He says. “I just wanted to hear you say it again.”

For the third time in less than a full day, Nux feels tears spill over his cheeks. He sits up, trying to hide, but Slit grabs his arm and roughly tugs him back down. He lands almost on top of his lancer, causing Slit to grunt with the impact. Before he can really do anything, Slit has his arms around him. However, it feels more like a restraint than an embrace.

“We gotta figure this out.” Slit mutters, shifting onto his side to hold Nux to his chest. “Not the Valhalla thing - that’s either gonna happen by itself or it’s not. We gotta sort out... this. Us.” He adds. Nux nods, working his hand free to rub at his eyes. He doesn’t want to ask exactly what Slit means by that, doesn’t want to hope. Slit’s jaw works for a moment before he says anything else.

“Why’d you run?” He asks plainly. “Why did you turn your back on everything we knew, and side with Furiosa when she betrayed the Immortan?” He doesn’t sound angry anymore, which is unusual for him. He just sounds tired, and it breaks Nux’s heart a little further. In the silence he can almost hear Slit’s heartbeat.

“I didn’t… not at first….” Nux murmurs, half to himself.

“Hey?”

“I didn’t switch sides immediately. I got into the Rig, and then… I don’t know exactly what happened. Something changed.” Nux says, voice trembling. “Here.” He adds, gesturing to his chest. Slit narrows his eyes. He seems to mull over his next question. Nux sniffles quietly. He’s trying to keep it together, really, but Slit’s making it horribly difficult. His arms have loosened around Nux, so now it’s less like a restraint and more like an embrace.

When Slit finally asks his question, it takes Nux completely by surprise.

“Did you fuck one of ‘em? One of the Wives?”

“Wh- no!” Nux stammers, thrown. Why would Slit be asking that? Why does he sound so strained?

“Did you fuck your Bloodbag?” Slit adds, his expression guarded and his tone even weirder. Nux draws back a tiny bit. Yeah, Max is decent-looking, but he’s not Nux’s type. Besides, they were stuck in the Rig with the five Wives and Furiosa - if he was gonna fuck anybody, it wasn’t going to be Max.

“No! I didn’t do anything like that...” He replies slowly, searching Slit’s face. That seems to satisfy Slit, and he drops the subject. They lie in silence again, but somehow it’s not as tense as it was before. He still has his arms around Nux.

~~~

At some point they must have dozed off, because Nux wakes to the cold, grey light of early dawn. He shivers and curls a little tighter around himself. He’s got his head on something solid and warm and gently moving. It turns out to be Slit’s chest.

Nux closes his eyes again, remembering all that happened last night. He shifts around, getting comfortable, and Slit begins to wake up. He yawns and stretches luxuriously, like a lizard basking in the sun. Nux debates whether or not he can get away with pretending to still be asleep. He decides to give it a shot.

It seems to work because Slit starts absently rubbing Nux’s shoulder. Nux snuggles a little closer. He can hear the gentle thud in Slit’s chest, which does seem a little out of place, all things considered.

He gives himself away when he pets Slit’s bicep without thinking. Slit rumbles and pushes Nux into the sand. He sits up groggily, rubbing sleep out of his eyes and turns to give Nux a beady look. Nux snickers, too lost in the soft familiarity of this moment to worry about Valhalla right now.

“Just how long have you been awake?” Slit grumbles, yawning again. Nux shrugs.

“Not long. Few minutes?”

Slit makes a noise of complaint, and begins cracking his knuckles one by one. Nux shivers as a cool wind begins to pick up. He shuffles closer to Slit and leans against the lancer’s broad, bare back. Briefly, he wonders about why Slit never seems to get too hot or too cold. Maybe his muscles insulate him against changes in temperature? Who knows.

Slit lets out a quiet hiss as he carefully pries the makeshift bandage off his hand. He inspects the wound, but it isn’t getting any better. If anything, it looks worse; the skin has blistered and softened overnight, and it makes Nux want to vomit. He can deal with blood and gore, but he never had the stomach for infection and pus. Slit clenches his jaw and rewraps his palm. Nux nuzzles his shoulder, unsure of what else to do. If they had water, he’d insist on cleaning the injury out but…

Slit tries to headbutt him, but the angle is wrong and it doesn’t really make contact. The staples in his cheek glint in the growing dawn.

“C’mon.” He rumbles, getting to his feet. Nux follows suit, and glances around. There’s nothing but sand, all the way to the horizon.

“May as well start walking.” Slit adds. “Not like we got anythin’ else to do.”

“What if Valhalla comes back?” Nux asks nervously. The Gates do seem a little… temperamental.

“It follows us.” Slit replies, brushing the sand off his pants. “Shows itself ‘bout once a day.” Nux nods, trying to get his head around that. Slit takes a step, then stops. Hesitantly, he offers his less-burned hand. Nux takes it with a small smile. Was Slit always this soft when there was no one else around?

The sun is just clearing the tops of the distant dunes, and has yet to provide any warmth, so they walk closer together than is probably necessary. Nux remembers Max’s worn jacket wistfully, rubbing his arms as they face into the wind.

~~~

They walk until the sky begins to darken again and the first stars appear in the east. Nux is glad to stop; his feet are aching and he’s thirstier than before. Surprisingly, he’s still not hungry yet. Slit doesn’t seem to be, either, but when he speaks again his voice is a little hoarse.

“Help me dig a hole, here.” He says, motioning to a spot on the ground. Nux raises an eyebrow.

“Why?” He asks suspiciously. “What are we looking for?”

“Nothing,” Slit answers brusquely. “You can sleep on top of the sand again, if you want, but I’d rather stay warm for longer.” That makes sense, Nux supposes. He kneels next to Slit, and they start scooping out a hole big enough for both of them. It takes a while, because the sand is too soft and dry to properly dig away.

Eventually, they’ve managed to carve out a ditch that’s... sort of the right size. It’ll be a squeeze, Nux thinks skeptically. He glances upwards. The bright moon is rising steadily, casting long shadows of its own. He shuffles into the hole, next to Slit, and has no choice but to press against him. The sand is still warm, and Nux can feel his eyelids already starting to grow heavy. He wiggles around until he’s more comfortable, tucking his arms in and resting his head against Slit’s throat. He gets an arm around his torso for his efforts.

Slit sits upright unexpectedly, accidentally giving Nux a crick in his neck. Nux follows his gaze to the Gates, which have reappeared as predicted. Before he can react, Slit is scrambling out of the hole, dragging him along by the wrist. The Gates are every bit as glorious as before, but their beauty is somewhat marred by the knowledge of what lay underneath his lancer’s gloves. Nux rubs the sand off of his cheek and stifles a yawn.

Slit walks with purpose to stand a pace away from the Gates, again. He lifts his hand hesitantly, but doesn’t reach for the bars. He’s preparing to be rejected again, Nux realises. It puts a hollow feeling in his stomach.

“Here,” he says, stepping forward. “Lemme try.” Nux smiles, trying to reassure Slit. However, the lancer doesn’t look convinced.

“Slit, you need your hands more’n me.” Nux urges, touching his arm.

“Can’t drive with fucked up palms.” Slit argues.

“Can’t lance, either.” Nux fires back. Slit opens his mouth, but doesn’t have a counter-argument. He frowns deeply, and bites his lip. Nux takes his hand - gently, as it surely still hurts - and reaches for the Gates. He closes his eyes and braces for the pain-

And nothing happens. His fingers connect with the Gates, and the metal is warmer than he expected but nowhere near hot enough to burn him. He opens his eyes slowly, and looks back at Slit. The lancer looks like he’s been punched. Nux grins, gripping his hand a little tighter in excitement. He shoves at the Gates, and they begin to swing open. As they do, the bright light gets harsher and harsher until he’s forced to close his eyes against it.

When he opens them again, the first thing he notices is the green. It’s everywhere, kind of like when he would wander through the Top Gardens back at the Citadel. There’s green stuff on the soft, black ground, and climbing on poles stuck haphazardly here and there, and even one or two huge, leafy stick-things. Trees, that’s what Capable had said they were. The next thing Nux notices is the water. It’s flowing through a shallow groove in the dirt that’s too straight and even to be natural.

He’s reminded of Slit’s presence when the lancer drops to his knees beside the water and splashes some onto his face. Nux laughs, and follows suit. The air is cool and smells sweeter than the arid, dusty air of the Wasteland. He feels better than he has in… he can’t even remember how long. He’s not so sick anymore, can’t feel the bite of the tumors on his neck.

Slit drinks his fill, and sits back on his haunches. There’s a few stray droplets running down his face and neck, having escaped through the gaps in his scars, and Nux is mesmerised. Slit seems to feel his gaze, and wipes the drops away with the back of his hand. He tugs his gloves off and flexes his fingers. His palms are healing, Nux sees. They’re not back to normal, but the pus is gone and the burns no longer look so raw. Slit looks up at him and grins. He launches himself at Nux, knocking him over and sending himself sprawling. He laughs freely, grabbing Nux and dragging him in for a tussle.

They roll around for a bit, wrestling and playing like they did when they were Pups, until they both lie panting in the shade of one of the trees. Eventually, Nux sits up and brushes the dirt off his pants. He gathers up all the little bits and pieces that fell out of his pockets before Slit can swipe anything, but the lancer just grins lazily up at him, still lying flat on his back.

“If I’d known all it would take to get here was your dumb ass, I would come back and killed ya days ago!” He teases, but there’s no malice in it. Nux scoffs.

“Like you coulda killed me .” He says, not bothering to keep the smile off his face.

“Could too!” Slit protests, raising himself up onto his elbows. Nux raises an eyebrow skeptically.

“Nah.” He drawls, making a show of examining his fingernails. “Didn’t I have ya totally pinned just a minute ago?”

“I let you pin me!”

“Oh yeah? Wanna see me do it again?”

“Ah, fuck off, pup.” Slit grumbles, looking away. Nux snickers, before taking mercy and laying down next to him. He traces the scars on Slit’s belly, making him shiver. Slit’s arm finds its way around him again, but it really is an embrace this time. They listen to the sound of everything growing around them, truly at peace for the first time in their lives. They didn’t have to fight for this, didn’t have to win it and don’t have to protect it from anyone; all they have to do is enjoy it.

Angharad was right about almost everything, Nux muses, as he settles in for a nap. Valhalla is real, and the world isn’t quite dead yet.

#mad max: fury road #mad max #nux #slit (mad max)#valhalla #war boys

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