#varying degrees of effort went into these and i think it shows

[aboutyoutoo]

These are all from a folder in my phone called "poorly made memes". there's no consistency here idk you can just have all of them.

[formula-nyoom]

Grid Graduation

Platonic!Grid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Being a racecar driver and actively pursuing a higher education is a feat in and of itself. You didn't let your career get in the way of going to college. But when racing seems to prevent you from attending your graduation ceremony, your fellow drivers decide to take matters into their own hands

A/N: Congratulations to all the people that are graduating this month or next month! I hope you guys have amazing celebrations. And to my fellow college students who still have a year or years left to go, we’re going to get through it, even if it seems like hell. I know that the color of the graduation gowns can vary by college or are usually black but I went with dark blue because that was the color of my gown when I got my associates degree. 

~~~

Some people would say it's stupid to try and get a bachelor’s degree while being a race car driver. 

“You already have a career. Why would you spend all your free time off track pursuing something you don’t really need?” is the question that was constantly asked to you during interviews. Your answer: because it was important to you. It’s common knowledge that karting and racing takes up most of a driver’s life. And while most drivers are able to pursue basic schooling and education during their karting days and early single seater days, once a driver makes it higher up the racing ladder, pursuing an education becomes second to trying to be the best race car driver on track. 

You on the other hand felt that your pursuit of racing should not get in the way of your education. And thankfully with the ability to take online classes, you didn’t have that worry. 

“You’ve refreshed that page five times in the last 30 seconds.” Alex said as you two sat in the drivers lounge. It was media day so thankfully neither of you had to worry about racing and instead your worry was focused on something else.

 “Can you blame me? I’m supposed to get sent an email that tells me whether or not I graduate today and I’m dying to know.” You said, refreshing the page again. You had finally completed all the required courses you needed to graduate and get your bachelors degree. Now you were just waiting for the confirmation that all the hard work, all the study sessions you had done between and after races, and all the all nighters was worth it. 

 “Have you gotten the email yet?” You looked up from your laptop to see Logan approaching with Oscar behind him. You refreshed the page again.

 “Nope. Still nothing.” You let out a frustrated sigh. All the other drivers knew about your pursuit of a college education while also being a race car driver. They had been nothing but supportive in your efforts and could tell how worried you were about having to wait for your college’s final decision on you graduating.

 “The email will come eventually. Staring at the screen isn’t going to help.” Oscar said. 

“I suppose you’re right.” You said, refreshing the page again. You were about to close your laptop, putting the matter temporarily to rest, when the page loaded and showed you had a new email. It was from your college.

 “It’s here!” You exclaimed. You were about to open the email when you paused your finger over the mouse pad.

“I don’t think I can open this. What if they deny me? Or what if this email tells me that I still have some courses that I need to pass to graduate?” You started nervously chewing on your bottom lip as worst case scenarios started to run through your head. Logan placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder

 “(Y/N), you’ve been working your ass off the past couple years to get this degree. They’d be stupid to not let you graduate.” Logan said. 

 “I can read the email for you first if you want.” Alex offered. That seemed to calm your nerves. You handed Alex the laptop and waited with bated breath as he opened the email. Anticipation started to build as it seemed to take forever for Alex to read the first line of the email

“Congratulations (Y/N) (L/N), you have met the requirements to graduate!” Alex exclaimed.

 “Really?” You grabbed the laptop and read the first line of the email that did indeed confirm that you were graduating. Logan and Oscar started to shake your shoulders in excitement as you started to laugh from happiness.

 “I’m graduating!” You exclaimed. Logan, Alex and Oscar let out cheers of excitement as you read the first lines of the email again.

“What’s with the excitement?” Charles asked as he and Max entered the driver’s lounge.

 “(Y/N) got the confirmation that she’s graduating college.” Alex said.

“Congratulations!”Max said. He ruffled your hair while Charles gave you a hug. You were practically beaming with happiness as you started to read the email out loud. 

“Congratulations (Y/N) (L/N), you have met the requirements to graduate! We commend you for this amazing accomplishment and we’d like you to attend the graduation ceremony on….June 7th.” Your voice trailed off after reading the date and your smile slowly started to drop.

 “Are you gonna go?” Oscar asked. You shook your head.

“I can’t. We’ll all be in Canada for Free Practice.” You said. It was true. Your college’s graduation ceremony was the same week of the Canadian Grand Prix.

 “Do you think your team will let you go?” Alex asked. “I mean, you’ve done Canada multiple times and you’ll do it again. But you only really graduate college once, especially considering you're a race car driver.”

 “I don’t think (Y/N)’s team will let her go. Free Practice isn’t something you can really miss.” Max said. He was right. Attending a graduation ceremony seemed like a trivial matter compared to your career. 

 “But (Y/N)’s worked so hard for this. Surely her team will understand.” Logan said.

“No, it’s…it’s ok if I miss the graduation ceremony. I’ve been given confirmation that I’m graduating and will get my diploma in the mail later this year. That’s enough for me.” You told them. But that wasn’t really true. You would have liked to attend the ceremony. If not for just the celebration but also for the sense of normalcy away from the racetrack and responsibilities of being a Formula One driver. 

 “Well we can still celebrate right? Maybe get all the drivers together for a dinner?” Charles suggested. You smiled a bit.

 “Yea Charles. A dinner would be nice. This is still a cause for a celebration. Even if I can’t go to the official one.”

Dinner with the other drivers was a nice celebration. It helped you forget about not being able to attend the graduation ceremony for a while. But the week of the Canadian Grand Prix seemed to bring up that fact again. It seemed the media wanted to remind you too.

 “Well, before we start taking questions, I’d like to say congratulations to you, (Y/N). It was recently let known that you’ve graduated college and now have a bachelor's degree.” The media commentator for the drivers press conference said to you as you sat on a couch next to George, Lando, Lewis, and Zhou. 

“Thank you. If I didn't have to be here in Canada, I'd actually be attending the graduation ceremony, which is happening tomorrow. But racing takes priority.” You smiled to hide some of your disappointment, but the other drivers seemed to notice.

 “I’m sure you and your family are proud of all your efforts. Maybe some of the drivers too?” The interviewer said, motioning to the drivers next to you.

“I’m insanely proud of (Y/N) for what she’s accomplished. She’s shown that racing shouldn’t get in the way of pursuing an education.” Lewis said.

 “I will say, (Y/N) has worked harder than anyone else on the grid.” Zhou said. 

“She won’t admit it herself though.” George said, nudging your side. You shook your head.

“In terms of something like this, even if I can’t attend a graduation ceremony, I’m proud of all the work I’ve done.” You said.

 “Well, I hope you celebrate or have already celebrated what is an immense accomplishment.” The interviewer said.

 “Me and the other drivers on the grid actually went out to dinner to celebrate the day I found out I was graduating to make up for the fact that I can’t attend the ceremony. It was a really nice dinner and I’m glad I have friends to celebrate my accomplishments with.” You smiled at your friends sitting next to you. They smiled back, but for a different reason. 

Despite your efforts to hide your disappointment, your fellow drivers could tell how upset you were about not being able to attend your graduation ceremony. And while the dinner was indeed nice, they wanted you to have a proper celebration for such an immense accomplishment.

That’s how George and Lando ended up knocking on your driver’s room door after interviews and media responsibilities were done for the day.

 “Hey guys. What’s up?” You asked as you opened the door for them.

“Put this on.” Lando handed you a bag with what you assumed had to contain clothing.

 “Why? What is it that you have handed me?” You gave him a skeptical look.

“Open the bag and find out.” Lando said. You did as he instructed and pulled out something made of dark blue fabric. At first you thought it was a dress, but unfurling it revealed to be a graduation gown. You tried not to frown. The only need for something like this would be for graduation photos, which you had already taken. But Lando and George were insistent and you decided to amuse their idea for now and put it on.

“Now what? You want me to get into a race car and drive around the track in a graduation gown?” George and Lando just laughed.

 “I don’t think the FIA will allow that. At least not in just the gown.” Lando said.

“Of course you can’t have the gown without the cap.”  George handed you a graduation cap with a tassel in your team color. The cap was decorated with a little race car on top that had a diploma trailing behind it. 

 “What’s…what’s all this for?” You asked, while putting the cap on. You don’t know why you decided to put the cap on, but did so anyway.

“It’s for your graduation ceremony of course.” Lando said. You frowned.

 “There’s no way I can attend that ceremony.” You said.

“We’re not talking about your college’s graduation ceremony. We’re talking about the one that’s happening right now.” George said. “Come on.”

George and Lando ushered you out of your driver’s room and started to lead you somewhere. You still looked at them with confusion. 

 “We already celebrated during that dinner.”

“But it wasn’t a proper ceremony.” Lando said, leading you towards the track entrance. By now, you were starting to suspect what George and Lando were up to. It wasn’t confirmed until they led you to the start line.

“You guys did not….” Rows and rows of chairs were set up on the track with a makeshift aisle in the middle. Each chair was filled with one of your fellow drivers or members of your team. Tears started to well up in your eyes at the realization of what was happening. 

 “We wanted you to have a proper graduation ceremony.” Lando said, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into a side hug. Now you were trying really hard not to cry.

 “C’mon. Everyone’s waiting for you.” George said. He and Lando walked you past all chairs, the drivers and team members applauding you as you walked past. 

Lewis and Fernando were standing at what was designated the stage and greeted you with a hug and a whispered “congratulations” as you approached. 

 “Shall we get started then?” Lewis, who had been designated the commencement speaker, said to get everyone’s attention. Everyone quieted down and took a seat

“We are gathered here to recognize the immense accomplishments of (Y/N) (L/N) in her pursuit of a higher education in the form of a bachelor's degree. Not only has she strived for what many have wanted to achieve, but did so while also managing the life of a Formula One driver. That is something not many can do.” Lewis said.

 “I now ask for Fernando to present the graduate with their diploma.” Fernando walked over to you and handed you a piece of paper, then the two of you shook hands as formality of a traditional graduation ceremony while George quickly snapped a photo. You looked at the “diploma” that was handed to you and couldn’t help but let out a laugh. It was a diploma template that you could find on the internet that included your name and the name of your college. Though the official seal had your team logo on it. 

“I now ask the graduate of 2024, to move your tassel from right to left and signify your newfound graduation status.” Lewis said. By now, it was getting really hard to try and keep the tears in as you moved the tassel from right to left. Lewis smiled.

 “It is my pleasure to present (Y/N) (L/N) as the grid’s graduating class of 2024.” Everyone stood up and applauded you. At this point you couldn’t keep the tears in any longer and started to cry but also cheer. Lewis pulled you into a hug, followed by Fernando, then Lando and George and it got to the point of just being a big group hug full of drivers.

 “Go on, toss the cap!” Logan exclaimed once the group hug broke away. Chants of “Toss it! Toss it!” started to echo till you took the graduation cap off and tossed it into the air, signifying that all that hard work was worth it.

[cringefailcabitha]

Just idle thoughts in light of the finale from accidentally saying a lot in IID so. It may seem to end rather abruptly? but:

Whenever Cabby is important to a scene if not straight up in it it has something to do with her trying to trust people or her confidence or how the people around her perceive her and. Before she was eliminated, Yes there are times where she comes off as cocky or pushy but I agree with Clover saying she was never a particularly malicious person. Imo by allowing Cabby to win it like. Shows her that the confidence she lost was not unwarranted and that there was never anything wrong with her using her files. The way she interfaces with the world is fine and she deserves to be celebrated after all the work she put in and what she went through.

For a lot of the show Cabby struggles to form proper connections with some of the other contestants because her disposition came off as intense in a way that intimidated the others ("I'm a tryhard, remember?" I think there are a lot of situations in real life where people can tell when someone is putting a lot of effort in and they find it offputting. Hello social outcasts can you see inside this parentheses). Like. Remember when Test Tube in episode Two said "Fan's discomposure is... understandable. Even I'm not feeling up to par today. But Cabby's just got so many notes! How can I compete with that?" Note how she's fretting about how she can "compete with that". Despite them being on the same team, And Cabby giving no indication that she wanted to compete with the two of them at that point.

None of the contestants that find her intenseness to be uncomfortable really try to understand her or examine why they feel that way until she gets eliminated and rejoins and even then. It's not until episode 12 that she receives sympathy or attempt to understand from any other players on her team, Which I find rather sad, But. After 3 episodes of her gone and the only person that was "close" enough to her to know anything about her being the same one who betrayed her. It seems like everyone sort of accepted what Test Tube said without thinking about it, Since they were all nervous about Cabby anyways for reasons aforementioned,

And then Test Tube, being the kind of person she is. She has a strong sense of justice but I don't think she is very perceptive when it comes to other people's feelings so the combination of already being intimidated by Cabby's disposition, Fan getting eliminated, and the information Cabby has being extensive to a point where if she was not a good person she could use it to cause quite a lot of trouble, She assumes that Cabby must not be a good person and once Test Tube decides something like that (that someone is not a good person, or that they are at fault for something important to her) she becomes really stubborn when it comes to that person and, to varying degrees, Closes herself off from understanding their point of view (Suitcase, Fan, Lightbulb, Microphone). So of course when Cabby comes back she immediately assumes Cabby must be out for "revenge" like she's some sort of supervillain and that eliminating her "is what needs to be done". And when she gets eliminated in spite of her own efforts she tries to leave without really saying anything to Cabby about how she actually feels about everything that went down. Which Cabby being the kind of person who just Has to know why, Couldn't let her just leave like that. And Test Tube tells her that "it's great" that she "cares about all this" but all she's done is "make people scared of her" which I think is something that holds true for Test Tube herself because who came up to her and told her that they were afraid of Cabby?

And how exactly is Cabby supposed to take a revelation like that, except by trying to overcompensate by attempting to put away the parts of herself she thought might be intimidating people?

[thislovintime]

During the filming of Head: (photos 1-5) possibly April 11, 1968, photos by Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images, and Henry Diltz; a costume fitting, March 26, 1968 (photo via the official Peter Tork Facebook page).

Peter Tork: “There was a bit of a contradiction between the plan and execution. I think if due consideration had been given to where we wanted The Monkees to go next, we would have not only had a better movie, but maybe even moved the career forward instead of stopping it dead in its tracks.”

Q: "When the idea for Head was bandied about, was it based on artistic expression, rebellion, or just an opportunity to cash in on the Monkees name?”


Peter Tork: “It was an expression of where we were at the time. When we first talked about making a movie, the four of us agreed that we really didn't want to do a 90-minute episode of The Monkees. We wanted to go beyond sitcom situations, because growing up, [Micky] and I had seen some of our favorite TV shows, like McHale's Navy and Dragnet, turn into awful movies.The fairest understanding of the movie was that it was [director and co-producer] Bob Rafelson's take on the Monkees phenomenon overall, without much of a comment or a conclusion. The gist of the movie is the Monkees remain trapped and it seems like they're never getting out of it, which was peculiar because the movie was an effort to get out of it. Other than that, it was a little surreal, some parts are extraordinarily funny, and a lot of that is Jack Nicholson's idea of what was funny.”

Q: “What was your history with Nicholson at that point?”

PT: “
He didn't have much of a history with us. He'd come around the set for a while. He was fun and funny. He had a style and gestures. Mike adopted him completely. And then one day Bob said, ‘Jack's going to help make the movie.’ We were delighted because there was no mistaking Jack's power and capacity, intellectually and artistically. It was clear that here was a man who managed to make himself socially acceptable by bottling all of his insanity and putting it into useful channels. A very rare quality and one that's made him the superstar that he is. You couldn't help but feel that.”

Q: “
There were plenty of psychedelic films being produced at that time to varying degrees of success, so why didn't Head stick?”

PT: “
The Monkees ran into a brick wall and [Head] was part of that. And the fact that it was marketed as a head movie to the suburban kids and as a suburban, bubblegum movie to all the heads didn't help much either. It was a disaster in the making from some points of view. Commercially, surely.” - EW dot com, November 12, 2008

* * *

Head, of course, features two Tork songs:

“‘Can You Dig It’ is about the Tao. The hook line I wrote in my dressing room on the set [of the television series in 1967]. The chords for the chorus I’d written in college, and [they] had just stuck with me. I hadn’t been able to do a thing with them until I was sittin’ there, just writin’ on a scrap of paper with ideas, and I wrote, 'Can you dig it?/Do you know/Would you care to let it show?’ Those three as a triplet — as opposed to a couplet. I just looked at them and [went], 'Wow!’ I grabbed a pencil and circled those three. They were part of a quatrain. I said, ‘Wait a minute. No, this works best as a little three-line chorus.’” - Peter Tork, Head box set liner notes (x)

“The funny thing is that the lyrics [to ‘Long Title: Do I Have To Do This All Over Again?’] came to me right out of the air. I was just playing those chord changes on the guitar, and I opened my mouth and that’s what popped out. The song was weirdly prophetic. I had no idea that was going to be my attitude about anything having to do with music when I wrote that song. I wrote the lyrics in London on that famous trip with Karen Harvey Hammer and Justin Hammer, who are Lady and Baby respectively of the song ‘Lady’s Baby.’” - Peter Tork, Listen To The Band liner notes (x)

“I think they’re [‘Can You Dig It?’ and ‘Long Title: Do I Have To Do This All Over Again?’] the best songs in the movie [Head]. I love both of them. I thought they were just terrific. He had plugged himself into that whole Stephen Stills connection and was working with those guys. I think they fit the movie better than anything did. When those two songs start up in the movie, it comes alive for me.” - Michael Nesmith, Head box set liner notes

[bookwhimses]

Hi! Can I ask about the Disneyland AU and the trouble with mistletoe? (and, if you don't mind doing three, the holistic haunted house - is that the Ghosts AU? Vika sent me the opening script and I need to know more??)

Hi back at you! Yes, absolutely, thank you for asking, it makes me feel hype about my WIPs. I'll have to get back to you maybe tomorrow on the Disneyland AU one because going through the doc there are things I want to clarify first before I can figure out what bits would be good to share. I'll tag you in a post about it when I figure it out, though! The holistic haunted house is the Ghosts AU, yeah! The basic summary is:

Amanda moves to the UK when she unexpectedly inherits an ancient estate from a distant relative, taking her friend Tina with her. They both desperately want a change of scenery – Tina is on the tail-end of addiction rehabilitation, and Amanda has been stuck in the house and struggling with work due to pararibulitis. Amanda also knows that her brother Todd, who fell out with the family six years prior, went to that area of the UK last she heard, and might be somewhere in the village near the estate. She’s uncertain if she wants to reconnect, knows she hasn’t forgiven him, but also does miss him.

They plan to turn the house into a hotel or multi-room AirBnB, but when they arrive the house is massive in disrepair and the project is bigger than they imagined. After Amanda has her first pararibulitis attack in the house she starts seeing ghosts in the house, including what seems to be the ghost of Todd.

Tonally it's slightly darker than Ghosts but not to the point of it being horror or thriller, it mainly leans more towards DGHDA's level of sci-fi/fantasy madness. Most of the DGHDA cast are ghosts and many of them have powers to varying degrees of strength.

Dirk is a Regency dandy who can talk to and manifest in front of living people but can't do it on command. He was the only ghost in the house apart from Bart and Mona for a very long time and was very lonely, as they aren't super social compared to him. He is constantly coming up with elaborate explanations for his death but it's unclear how he died.

Todd is a modern day ghost and the most recent addition to the ghosthold. He doesn't appear to have any powers. He refuses to talk about how he died. Dirk is extremely eager to be his friend and Todd is weird around him and generally avoids him. This does not stop Dirk from trying.

Farah was a land girl during World War II. She can show up in photographs, and occasionally in mirrors, to some living people, but not all. She falls in love with Tina at first sight and then represses it strenuously. She died from tuberculosis while working on the estate's grounds farming for the war effort.

Bart is from an indeterminate time period; it's hard to tell due to how filthy she is. She can kill people, but she mostly doesn't. She spends most of her time in the underground levels or out on the skirts of the property and isn't very talkative.

Mona isn't a ghost. She's something else. Dirk calls her a "little soul". Farah calls her a poltergeist. Todd thinks she's literally a demon pretending to be a child Sally House style. Mona can take on different shapes both in sight of the dead and the living, can talk to the living at will, can move objects and affect ambient temperature and electrical objects, and once possessed a real estate agent. Dirk taught her how to read. She mostly stays in the attic. She terrifies everyone but Dirk.

There's also a bunch of other ghosts who live mostly outside the main house and like to do their own thing, like the Rowdies, a group of 80s anarchists who accidentally set themselves on fire while torching the north wing; Hugo, a soldier who accidentally shot himself while training (he doesn't have any powers but he claims he met God); the Mage, a Tory politician who died during a hunting accident while on a country weekend, and Panto and Silas, who live out in one of the stone gazebos in the garden and died while LARPing Romeo and Juliet too enthusiastically in 2003.

The Trouble With Mistletoe is a Christmas fic I started back in late 2019. I think it was one of the first fics I ever started and I've got a decent amount written, but the plot is convoluted/confused and needs some drastic reworking. The initial main premise is that post-s2 Dirk decks out the office to the nines with Christmas shit, including a piece of mistletoe, hoping to sneak a kiss from Todd. The universe decides it wants him to suffer (hint: the universe is Me) and things keep going wrong no matter how elaborate Dirk's machinations get. This sounds like a fairly simple premise, no? Not for me. Somehow I've written more scenes for this fic almost every Christmas since and I only get more confused about the A plot and the B plot, and whether the B plot should exist at all. You can tell by the first reference in the following snippet how long I've been trying to write this thing.

“Woah. Fuck, dudes. Whose kid got trapped in the Upside Down?”

This was Tina’s less than dazzling review of Dirk’s Christmas decorations, delivered without ceremony to the entire room upon walking into the office. Dirk didn’t really understand the question, and when he asked about it Tina began to explain something about a Netflix show about traumatised children and nightmare monsters until Todd and Farah, in what Dirk assumed to be one of those little coincidences he so often encountered in life, simultaneously burst into hacking coughs and flailed at their desks as if suddenly finding themselves trapped in an infomercial. Farah flung her arm out and knocked her entire pen canister off her desk, scattering carefully organised biros across the floor. Todd picked up a stack of papers and threw them in the air. Both created sufficiently consuming disturbances that by the time they had been seen to and Dirk had been satisfied that they weren’t having some sort of telepathically linked seizure (he did have some pretext for this, in Todd’s case at least), Dirk had completely forgotten about whatever it was that Tina was trying to tell him about.

Dirk didn’t really understand why both his friends had chosen to wreak havoc on their own work spaces, but he knew he was a little odd by their standards too, and it was Christmas, so live and let live.

Tina didn’t notice the piece de resistance of Dirk’s decorating efforts until later in the afternoon, by which time she had spent the better part of two hours alternatively lounging on the client couch and being told off by Farah, and lounging in Farah’s desk and being told off by Farah. After a particularly hard slap on the wrist Tina had retreated, with a somewhat desultory glare, to the kitchenette, at which point she had noticed the mistletoe hanging there.

“Oh, heyyyyy,” she drawled, grinning widely. “Nice.”

Dirk cursed her and her lack of subtlety.

[deltaruminations]

:o !!! I don't think I recall seeing an answer for this, did your gaster always have one eye missing/drooping/etc? I'm so curious to learn more about himmm <3

yeah! i went back and forth on this for a while but i think i've settled on it being congenital, partly to make him more immediately readable as a headcanon gaster but also because i think it’s interesting to consider as part of his character. he can only see out of his left eye, the right socket is basically fused at a seam. i see it as one thing among a number of traits that he’s sort of had to learn ways around in order to function relatively "normally" (or at least in the ways he thinks he's supposed to be able to function).

aside from the impacts of disability, it also halves the amount of expression that can be communicated through his eyes, and kind of gives this visual impression that he’s perpetually winking, which i think adds an interesting layer of difficulty to accurate expression of emotion/intent. i think he’s self-conscious about how he looks and worries that it disgusts people.

i got onto some tangents lol but here are some more headcanon character notes. i love talking about this guy so thanks for asking!!!

in my mind a lot of his personal challenges revolve around like, trying to Fit In to a world (both materially and socially constructed) that isn’t really made for him in a lot of ways. it assumes a ton of things that simply can never be true of him — right-handedness, average height, effortless verbalization, abled eyesight and depth perception, unconscious eye contact and facial expressiveness, etc.

not that my gaster is never unconsciously & genuinely expressive — he doesn’t show his heart on his sleeve like papyrus, but he’s not nearly as stiff as sans, either. the difference with sans is that he has natural conversational grace; he’s effortlessly warm, spontaneous, funny. he reads people well and generally has good social intuition. he isn’t necessarily suave or cool so much as he knows how to navigate interpersonally in a way that makes him immensely likable to most people (the fact that he Isn’t suave or cool actually contributes to that— it makes him non-threatening and approachable). sans is generally pretty skilled at manipulating others' perceptions/reception of him.

papyrus, for his part, is constantly missing social cues and acting outside of social scripts, which doesn’t lend itself to… popularity or general likability… but he’s so obviously sincere about who he is and what he’s feeling that he’s still like, intelligible. papyrus’s perspectives are easy to know even if they’re weird as hell in-context. he isn’t great at achieving his desires for likability but he's also willing to be seen (in UT at least, maybe less so in DR) in his imperfect effort.

my gaster is like. weirdness of perspective filtered through a certain amount of learned sociability. he knows how to socialize in theory and understands the value of it, but his social skills aren't intuitive, they take effort, especially verbally, and he has a history of miscalculation, so he tends to either be on a "script" or just like. stalled/processing until he can get back on track lol. and in either case it tends to be hard to get a read on what’s actually happening with him internally. unlike sans or papyrus, he can be quite suave and elegant, but he also lacks their flexibility and fundamental confidence and is just. kind of fragile. like papyrus, he wants to be liked, but unlike papyrus he’s far more motivated by a fear of being disliked. i think he’d rather go unnoticed than risk being perceived badly.

he can loosen up to varying degrees depending on the context (ex. he can be relatively gregarious and even warm when he's in Teacher Mode or with a close friend) but i think the general impression this has on other characters is that he’s aloof, mysterious, unapproachable, even kind of intimidating. he can be charming and pleasant but he doesn't come off as particularly, idk, trustworthy?

like, the dude’s pretty freaking tall, he tends to dress sharply, he’s even fairly handsome, but in a way that's uncanny and feels kind of Wrong. he’s obviously wickedly book-smart and seems high-brow and cultured, like he's never heard a pop song in his life. in casual conversation he’s either silent or delivering stilted academic diction in a low, quiet monotone. he speaks haltingly and deliberately, with weird prosody, and his two main expressions are Blank Stare and Unnerving Smile. his vibes come off as calculating and performative — which is technically true, but not for the reasons others tend to assume. he isn’t thinking about how to one-up them or about how stupid they must be. he’s studying them both out of sincere fascination and to understand social patterns and validate them empirically.

i seem him as the kind of guy who actively enjoys being around people even if he struggles to be involved with them. he’s the guy who will stand awkwardly just outside of a conversation to listen but won’t actually muscle his way into the circle until invited in, and once he's in there he just looks uncomfortable and often has to have conversation dragged out of him when all he really wanted was to observe.

i like to think part of why he’s able to be close friends with alphys is that she meets this stoic-seeming IRL Tumblr Sexyman with an unintelligible uboa face and she’s like "well this guy will never in a million years be interested in me Like That" and any nervous crush impulses she might have had are so completely overridden that she’s just. normal around him. he likes listening and she likes to talk so she infodumps overeagerly about cartoons while he sits there quietly staring with genuine curiosity lol

[lilianslibrary]

Trick of the Eye

Confessions to a Void III

TW: Body dysmorphia, gender dysphoria, slight gore, self harm.

If you get something out of this story I recommend reading the two previous; Kintsugi and Jealousy of a Hungry Cat. Thank you.

The reflection of a mirror exists in a metaphorical state of quantum superposition. While it is true that the mirror shows only what is placed in front of it, it is the living mind’s task to interpret this information on a subjective basis, consuming what is presented to it, and processing it through its own lens. The subjective nature of this process of interpretation, juxtaposed with the objective nature of a mirror’s reflection inevitably leads to a degree of confusion and introspection akin to a crisis for those particularly conscious of their physical appearance. 

The Tangible One stood in front of the mirror for hours on end. Narcissism nor vanity were apt descriptors, for the nature of narcissism and vanity ill suited the reasons for the Tangible One’s compulsion. Their body shifted and varied with each passing day, never remaining in a singular static state. They arose from their slumber each morning well before dawn and sat in front of that reflective surface they had become well accustomed to. They followed this ritual for two reasons; the first being to discern the extent of change their form had undergone since the last ritual, and the second serving the purpose of assessing what the Tangible One could control. 

There were some days when the changes were for the better. The Tangible One had to make few or no changes, merely plucking a hair or two to polish their facial features, or perhaps making use of a few cosmetic products part of their usual array. They would admire themself, relieved of the burden they often carried, perhaps clothing themself in a more confident manner than was usual. The Tangible One’s presentation was of little concern to them those days. They went about their life in such a way as anyone else, a fact that did not go unnoticed to those used to their mercurial nature.

But there were other days when the changes were for the worse. These were the occasions for which the Tangible One rose so early in the day. Each hair had to be brushed and combed into place, plucked and shaved. New blemishes had to be concealed with powders and pastes lest others think of them as disgusting or uncouth. No matter the effort they put into themself on these days, they felt awkward and thought themself an assault on others' eyes. The Tangible One concealed themself with innumerable articles of clothing that proved clumsy and uncomfortable. Every interaction they had was colored by the insecurity boiling within them, and they were sure the others noticed every flaw big and small.

This cycle repeated itself for decades. They attempted many manners of dealing with the change but always came back to the ritual. The Tangible One could not recall a time when they had felt truly in harmony with their body. Desperate for a break in the cycle, another change finally arrived. They awoke, gazed into the mirror, recognized their hideous nature, brushed, combed, plucked, shaved, applying creams and powders and pastes. The Tangible One went about their day suffering anxiety every moment. They again awoke, engaged in the ritual, and fixed themself once more. They stared at the ground instead of facing others, and never spoke. This carried on to the next day, the day after that, and so on.

One day they ceased to check the mirror, opting to simply go about their routine with a total monotony. The Tangible One recognized this continuation was uncharacteristic of the usual cycle, but lacked a means to break it. Simultaneously they wondered if the wavering confidence finally settling into an expectation for disappointment was more stabilizing than being allowed to feel good about themself. Was regularity worthy of that sacrifice? It was not as if it was a choice they could make, and regardless of the attempted rationalizations, this new cycle began to weigh them down.

Having carried on this new iteration of the ritual for weeks, they reached a breaking point. This was not a spectacular breakdown in front of friends or coworkers, but a quiet resignation. The Tangible One arrived home one day and refused to leave again. Why would they leave when their home was the singular space that afforded them a comfort unknowable outside? Out there in the wider world they had to prepare themself for constant judgment and scrutiny. Hidden away in their room they could live not at peace with themself, but could at least live in ignorance. They covered the mirror with cloth so they could resist temptation. They knew, however, that this solution could not last.

Those that knew the Tangible One grew worried. Paying visits to their home, acquaintances and colleagues did their best to draw the Tangible One out of their hiding. They refused to respond. One day however, they were given an ultimatum. "Return to work or you will be made redundant," their manager demanded, speaking behind the closed door. With paltry savings that could never sustain them and no manner of escape, the Tangible One acquiesced. The ritual began once more in the morning.

They stood in front of the mirror, hands trembling at the prospect of removing the cloth that concealed their image. They worked up the courage, swiftly tearing it off and tossing it to the ground. Peering into the mirror to examine the damage a week of neglecting themself had brought, they saw nothing. The surface of the mirror reflected the room, but not the Tangible One.

In a fit of fear and confusion they struggled for breath, and then for control. They picked up the brush that sat nearby and threw it at the mirror, which violently shattered onto the floor, its constituent pieces littering themselves dangerously across the floor. The Tangible One worked to collect themself, but failed to understand what was occurring. Their chest felt as if it was being weighed upon by the entire world and they struggled for breath. Footsteps sounded from outside, moving at a rapid pace. Then came knocking and shouts. "Are you okay? What's going on?" The Tangible One could not bear the prospect of facing another person, not when they could not even discern their own appearance. They scrambled toward the shards on the ground, picking them up. The blood drawn from their hands was not enough to obfuscate the images before them.

Each of the shards reflected another depiction of the Tangible One. The one in their left hand showed the disheveled state they knew themself to be. The one on the right reflected a beauty unparalleled even in their best of days. The pounding on the door continued. The blood kept flowing. Tossing the mirror pieces aside, they desperately grabbed for more. Another showed a pitch black mass that absorbed all light, and another revealed a blinding white light rivaling the sun. They grabbed one final shard with both of their lacerated hands. Housed in the reflection of this small chip was someone the Tangible One could not recognize. The person had the same features, the same hair, the same clothes, the same skin tone, but was of mere average looks.

The Tangible One drove the shard into their eyes, sobbing in self pity all the while. They collapsed onto the floor in pain, holding their knees to their chest. The one on the other side of the door arrived just too late, entering the room and regretfully witnessing the scene before them. "What have you done to yourself?"

"I have been liberated."

[away-ward]

I love one of your latest asks about will being weak because it's so true!!! Anon, im with you on this! Weak men and MMCs are truly a fucking disease!!!

Ok i feel like this other topic has been discussed here but maybe not, i dont remember, but its about how will always reminds emmy and himself that emmy didnt fit in with his friends, as if theres something wrong with her for not fitting into a label and box that they have for everyone else (as if these characters themselves did not spend their whole fucking books and lives fighting against people labelling them and putting them in a box, but hey everyone in DN are fucking hypocrites, we knew this already), while at the same time will himself had never made much effort to fit into emmy's life or get to know her lifestyle, to be her friend or get to know her deeper outside of what he wanted. It still doesnt make sense because i believe if will wa smore respectful and kind towards his approach with emmy, we couldve gotten a friends to best friends to lovers arc!!!! Maybe we can even get some betrayal and separation to justify will's anger, like think about it. The missed opportunity!!!

I also think there's something wrong and weird with the way will went about this "emmy not fitting in" because from the way ke kept on saying it made me believe that the horsemen were some wonderful group of people to fit in with or something, but in reality, it's just a group of super privileged MMCs and FMCs with ugly ass characters, personalities, lifestyles, with varying degree of misogyny. My first thought was, "now why the fuck would you shame a women for not fitting in with a bunch of nasty people, with nasty moral, and nasty personalities, as if EMMY was the weird guy, and not the other way around". Like theres something wrong with the way the whole crew went about it. And thats why i also believe that alex's attack of emmy in the train wasnt just out of worry for aydin's safety and jealousy for whatever bullshit manipulation of aydin made she think about aydin x emmy, but also because alex probably had at a certain point put emmy on a different pedestal than other women she met in life, be it because of will or because of the way he saw other men treat emmy as compared to alex. So when alex found out that blackchurch emmy wasnt so different than her lifestyle, i think alex trying to fight emmy in the train and later on demanding for her underwear back from emmy was not just out of petty fight, but it was to prove to everyone the things alex said to em in blackchurch "i knew you could do this too". Implying that emmy was just like the crew in thunder bay, even if emmy might never admit it out loud. Alex probably had misinterpreted emmy as being judging towards her life to just because everyone else does, and emmy never said much of anything. We dont even know how much alex knew about her. Now, on the other side though, we knew from emmy's pov that emmy never had a problem with what she wanted or even the horsemen or alex, the only problem is she thought she couldnt have them, but how was the rest supposed to know this right? And so this might also be one of the cause of misunderstanding between alex and emmy. To show that emmy was not so above everyone else, that she wa sjust "like us", and mistaking that emmy looked down on them for this particular lifestyle like aydin did to alex. Because aydin had shamed alex in many ways for her lifestyle, out of his own resentment and shortcoming, so i feel like this could also be where alex was coming from. HOWEVER, I hate alex even more for this though because alex couldve just asked emmy where she came from (theyre "friends"!!!), but alex made assumptions about emmy, humiliate her in front of everyone, and tried to put emmy down just to look good in front of the rest, and that all happened because of internalised misogyny. Literally, there wa sno excuse for this because we never saw emmy did the same, nit even with her female bullies at school. One of your alex's anon asks in the past was right, alex shouldve had this same energy (or even worse) with aydin and call him out and beat him up instead for treating her like a dirtbag, but why hurt emmy? No explanation here, it's internalised misogyny, lmao! I hate this repeated misogynistic plotline from pd so much! Why cant they let these women be pillars for each other and build amazing healthy female relationship instead of always cretaing female rivalries? Idk, the more that i think about alex's character, the ickier she gets, and i hate it because pd framed her to her to be this "pure good morally right person viking", and im like, where? And on the same note, wasnt emmy the same? But why was she framed differently?You all are right, even alex was guilty by association, just by being around the horsemen nd their wives + crew. Unfortunately, alex, just like the rest, was a delusional bitch, no wonder she said something about emmy's presence as being grounding. Someone needs to pop their thunder bay bubble asap!

That leads to my next point. DN series turned me off for a different reason: all these grown adult men and women always be doing the most vile things to others (almost always undeservingly) and they wont own up to it. Interesting how their moral judgment is very relative, because as long as they're not micah's terrorist father or gabriel or evans or trevor level of nasty, they're consider and label THEMSELVES as good? Delusional privileged people behaviour! Cowards! They be saying things like "own it, before it owns you" but then go out if their way to try to justify their bad deeds as if we readers are stupid or something. They look like cowards to me honestly, because pd couldve used this to make it about morally grey or black villains who dgaf about anyone and living their life to the fullest, doing ACTUAL crimes, not just petty ones and own them (even rowan in The Fine Print was more a piece of shit than Michael when it comes to business ethics, and he's in a romcom bro, so embarrassing!), but pd made their characters to be the worst of the cowards and losers. I think one of your damon hate asks even mentioned about their unsatisfaction towards damon's character where he was unskilled and incompetent, even in his own crime, because everything he did, he was never active, always had someone's help to make it happen, but readers ate it up, acting as if he was this super competent guy doing everything or smth like that. Which i agree 100%, because not even damon who got special treatment by pd was someone amazing due of his own lacking that went unnoticed just because he was "seen" as hot to some. Just like that anon, maybe im just like them where i hate incompetent and unskilled men, and i would never love to read stories about these kind of MMCs or date irl men like them, so maybe thats why i noticed this even more than the rest. Being conventionally attractive and having that as your main attributes doesnt do it for me especially for a long term/ lasting relationship and admiration, they have to have somethimg going on in theirpersonal and professional lives for them to be interesting to me, and i noticed, this was what dark romance genre was always lacking.

I believe that dark romance is a hard subgenre to write, because not only it is already hard to write non-dark romance, now you have another layer of darker elements that you gotta add to make your stories work. I've never read one DarkRom book that i truly love because of this. My favourites were always non-darkrom because darkrom always felt lackluster and incomplete, i always felt like they lack substance, so as much as i might like their themes explored, writing style. or characters, or plot, or settings, i can never give them a full 5 stars, because theyre not enough for me. Let me know if you notice this too, or if you find your expectations for darkrom having a lot /not much difference than non-darkrom. Idk if others feel like this too, but these were what took my enjoyment from this series. The DN series was shallow and cheap for these reasons among many others, especially the "there was not much concrete substance" part, because even the substance was not grounding enough to me. I just need more i guess, idk. In fact, i wish it was more unhinged, because if theres one thing about pd that i like, its their writing style. They can really write great spooky or suspense-building stories, i gotta give them that. Not many non-horror or thriller authors ive read so far that could write spooky scenes or danger-consuming scenes like pd, and i was disspointed that they did not capitalise more on this. Ngl, if pd wrote thrille ror horror one day, i might even pre-order it, because one of the best thrillerxsuspense opening from a non-thriller books was Credence by them. The first few chapters were kinda eery in a reality-grounding way when you read books by famous horror thriller writers, the same goes with hideaway. Ngl, nightfall's opening was more goofy to me than it was scary, im so sorry pd 😭🤣

Anon, im with you on this! Weak men and MMCs are truly a fucking disease!!!

You guys are so funny. I feel like a middle man for your conversations. Like I’m playing telephone or something. I think I’m gonna have to go back and start labeling the Anon messages with numbers or something so you can reference each other.

Let me know if this is okay with all of you or if you have a problem.

I’m going to let you know before we get into it, that I’m in a mood as I’m typing this. I’m not sure what’s caused it, but I’m feeling a bit more sarcastic than usual and feeling less like editing myself. So this is going to be a long one and I hope you read the sarcasm for what it is. Remember, bold is not for emphasis but for ease of skimming and reading.

will always reminds emmy and himself that emmy didnt fit in with his friends

I would be surprised if there was a topic we haven’t touched on by this point. I have thought about this so I also can’t remember if I’ve talked about or just ranted to myself. Either way, I don’t think it’s the first time the issue has been raised. I know that I have discussed how Will’s privileged blinded him, and how his attitude about his privilege probably didn’t seem all that bad to him because of his peers. They were all in the same boat.

I mean yacht.

And I think I’ve mentioned that even without the abuse, Emmy still would have had a hard time fitting because of her lack of privilege. So I don’t think for either of them being aware of this reality is a bad thing. What irritated me the most about this situation was Will pursuing Emory so heavily, only to remind her that she’s replaceable anytime she didn’t do what he wanted. My reaction in that situation would have been “then replaceable me.” Similar to Em’s. It was such backwards thinking. Like he could somehow trick her into wanting him by reminding her that he was desirable to others. Reverse psychology at its worst, truly.

But I think that’s probably what I liked about Will more than the others. He actually had realistic path to grow?

I don’t know. Sometime when people talk about characters, it seems like they want the characters to have already reached their full potential and all their mistakes be because of external issues. And I'm not accusing you of that, but it's a trend I've seen. This always sticks out to me because I love when characters mess up and change, as long as that growth makes sense. Whether it's for the better or worse, it should make some sort of sense. People aren’t always great. Sometimes people suck. Just genuinely suck. And then, as they have life experiences, they can grow into a better person.

For me, Will takes this course. He sucked, because he wasn’t even aware of how badly he was messing up. Sure, his intentions with Emmy were sincere, but even if he did become aware of the abuse while they were in school, I have no doubt that his immaturity would have messed it up even more. Either way, he could have then had experiences that formed him into the person we see towards the end. Someone who can admit their mistakes, and forfeit what they want if it would make the people they care for happier. We never got to see a fully developed Will, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t the direction he was going in.

And this opposes his friends. Michael and Kai didn’t undergo such a changed. They sort of stayed the same throughout their story. They just got what they wanted in the end and it made them happier. Yay. Damon did undergo a significant change, but as it’s been pointed out, the way it happened and how quickly was sort of unbelievable. Will has the most believable story line in terms of development. He still sucked. But sucked slightly less at the end, and I could easily see how he got to that point.

But that’s just me. I get where you’re coming from.

if will wa smore respectful and kind towards his approach with emmy, we couldve gotten a friends to best friends to lovers arc!!!! Maybe we can even get some betrayal and separation to justify will's anger, like think about it. The missed opportunity!!!

True, but like I said, I feel that Will thought he was being respectful and kind, because he was blind to the reality of how Emmy would interpret his attentions. He’d never experienced that level of rejection before, and because he didn’t know about the abuse, he couldn’t see a reason for it. Wasn’t he being nice by doing her homework? Wasn’t he being nice by listening to her when she complained that they were ruining her pool time? Wasn’t he being nice by giving her a ride home? Sure, she put up a fight, but she secretly liked it because he saw her reaction in the science lab. He’s giving her a way to act on those thoughts without forcing her to embarrass herself by admitting she wants it.

Isn’t. He. So. NICE???

And as the reader, we’re like no. You’re literally ruining her life! AND disrespecting her, because she told you no.

Friends-to-lovers isn’t my usual go-to. But I also don’t like second-chance romance, which all of DN basically is sooo…. Plus, I did read a whole book just to delude myself into getting a friends-to-lovers willemmy, so safe to stay I might have really enjoyed that. It would have been a nice break from the usual with this series.

it made me believe that the horsemen were some wonderful group of people to fit in with or something

I mean. It seems to me that most wealthy, privileged people think everyone wants to be like them. And, if we’re talking about their time in high school, then that way of thinking is probably even more prevalent. These are people who don’t really experience life outside of their wealth, so it’s normal to them. And if you don’t have what’s normal, wouldn’t you want it? Aren’t these life’s necessities? And they wouldn’t see each other as bad people, so for Emmy to point out their flaws and go “you guys are horrible people”, doesn’t make sense to them. Because

They’re good people. They’re not out there ruining other people’s lives. They’re just having fun. They’re not like Anderson or their parents or Martin, after all. Those are the really bad people. Why couldn’t Emmy tell the difference?

Obviously, it’s because she’s a judgmental hag who never wanted to see them clearly to begin with because it would ruin her superiority complex.

That’s seems to be his reasoning, at least.

because alex probably had at a certain point put emmy on a different pedestal than other women she met in life, be it because of will or because of the way he saw other men treat emmy as compared to alex.

Oh, Alex...

I can see Alex having some sort of complex about Emmy, but more than anything I felt she was curious when she approached Em at the cove, wanting to confirm what she thought she knew. Alex confused me when she put the thought into Emmy’s head that she could be competition.

I mean, I get that Emmy still wanted Will, but more than that, she wanted Will to be happy (because she’s a good person!). So even if Will found happiness with Alex, Emmy wouldn’t see her as competition because she’d basically already taken herself out of the running. But are we supposed to see Emmy being jealous of Alex because Alex is who he wants now? And Alex pushes this idea for what? To play with Em? To get her reaction? To encourage her that she still had a foot in the race to Will’s heart? To try and be her friend? It never made sense to me.

I don’t think I’ll truly ever be sure of Alex’s motive for attacking Em, and that’s because Alex takes ownership of her actions. She made choices, she wasn’t a ""victim"". Okay. If you’re not a victim of circumstance, like Em, and you both achieved your goals doing what you thought was best for yourselves, then what are you jealous over, Alex?

Unless… the taking ownership of her decisions is all pretense and posturing? Convincing herself that she’s just as good as Em, except that Em made decisions she was proud of; she worked to get her degree, she actually sacrificed what she wanted to save herself and her grandmother, she’s still strong without anyone holding her up. You can’t convince me Alex doesn’t see Emmy standing alone, defiant against the Horsemen and Aydin, and wonder if she could do the same? I don’t know. I mean, the characters in this series aren’t consistent and I’ve said that Alex was meant to be perfect always, so it’s hard to really figure out what was going on.

If one thing is for sure, I think Alex has succeed in being one of the most controversial characters in the series, and it’s not even about her career as a sex worker. Does that count as progress???

So when alex found out that blackchurch emmy wasnt so different than her lifestyle,

I’m not sure what you meant with this thought. To me, they have different lifestyles, so if you could clarify what you mean?

We dont even know how much alex knew about her.

That’s true, I guess. We know she could easily recognize Emmy on sight, and that she knew from Will that Emmy was “sassy” or something, indicating that Will probably talked about her. I HC that he talked about her more than once. I don’t see him getting into all that in one go. She probably knows about the gazebo and why he went to prison. But how much of their relationship, specifics about Em? No idea. But what’s irritating is that Alex believes in her ability to read people so much, she thinks she’s got Emmy all figured out, when it’s very clear that she doesn’t.

And so this might also be one of the cause of misunderstanding between alex and emmy. To show that emmy was not so above everyone else, that she wa sjust "like us", and mistaking that emmy looked down on them for this particular lifestyle like aydin did to alex.

You’re saying that Alex’s attack was to prove to Emmy that she wasn’t better than them, that they weren’t better than her, but they were all cut from the same cloth? Or that Alex believed that Emmy thought she was better than them because she didn’t frequently go around breaking the laws and giving into all her impulses? And Alex wanted to prove to her like “see, you have the same impulses. You can act on them here, with us, and it’ll all be okay. We’ll catch you.”

I can understand that. If that was the case, it was a weird way to go about it. Very confrontational. But I doubt Emmy was in any state to trust any of them, so maybe backing her into a corner for her to push herself out of was the only way to get there. I think the first one is what you meant; that Alex thought Emmy thought she was better and wanted to bring her to their level because she was feeling judged, but I think the second one is closer to what PD thought they were doing. Because Alex is all knowing and always right. She knows what everyone needs.

alex even more for this though because alex couldve just asked emmy where she came from (theyre "friends"!!!), but alex made assumptions

But Alex asking questions would mean that Alex isn’t all knowing and isn’t always right and doesn’t knows what everyone needs before they know they need it. How can Alex be perfect if Alex has to ask questions?????

Why cant they let these women be pillars for each other and build amazing healthy female relationship instead of always cretaing female rivalries?

That would have been nice to see. I usually don’t get mad at Alex for not attacking Aydin. If Alex was running scared from her feelings towards Aydin, not ready to sort them out, and she was overly concerned for Will, then Emmy becomes an easy target because she knows she can’t ruin her relationship with Emmy.

Note: I don’t understand how they have that close a bond after one night of drinking together. I’m just saying what the narrative told us. And as the narrative as reminded us multiple times, Alex is… apparently some sort of addictive substance that people experience once and can’t get enough of??? I have no other reasoning for the other character’s reactions to her.

Either way, it would have been nice if Alex used her powers for good to build up the friendships in the group instead of trying to get laid literally all the time.

To be clear, I do feel this is an error in storytelling. I can’t blame it all on Alex when PD is one who created her and forced those decisions on her, for reasons that I don’t understand. It feels like PD really did prioritize empowering women through freedom of sexual expression, but at the cost of writing actual friendships on the page? It was choice, and not one I can appreciate fully. Especially when I love seeing friendships play out so much. But I’m sure it’s found it audience somewhere and for that, good for them.

all these grown adult men and women always be doing the most vile things to others (almost always undeservingly) and they wont own up to it.

I’m laughing because I don’t know if it was the past storyline or because of their maturity levels, but I always forgot these characters were in their mid-twenties. Like, I don’t care what the timeline says, these characters are between 17-21 in every book and being told Will was 26 in NF was like a slap in the face. I was disgusted with him.

pd couldve used this to make it about morally grey or black villains who dgaf about anyone and living their life to the fullest, doing ACTUAL crimes, not just petty ones and own them

Yeah. Every time they were gearing up for a “big” thing, I kept expecting something… you know… big to happen. But it was all mundane, teenage antics (see point above).

I believe that dark romance is a hard subgenre to write, because not only it is already hard to write non-dark romance, now you have another layer of darker elements that you gotta add to make your stories work. I've never read one DarkRom book that i truly love because of this.

This is a good point. I don’t usually read a ton of dark romance. DN was a weird phase for me. If I do, I like the “dark” characters to be intelligent at least, not just mean. Even then, I know I’m getting into some nonsense, ridiculous plot so I usual turn off my critical thinking skills. Because of that, I never remember the books I’ve read that are considered “dark romance”. If you bring one up, I can remember if I’ve opened it or not, but characters names and events have been erased.

And your comments before that are probably why Dark Rom is meant for adults who already know that seeking out these types of people in real life is a horrible idea? Still, I know some readers who aren’t ready for this material for various reasons, be it age or past experiences they haven’t dealt with or something else, will get ahold of books like this and think that the abuse and drama that happens in these “love stories” are what true romances are made out of. Frustrating, but also none of my business. Just be happy that you know yourself well enough that these tactics wouldn’t work on you.

However, I don’t think I’ve ever attempted a dark romance. I’ve attempted to write stuff that has a darker edge than my usual, but never that dark. I’m not a thriller or horror writer, so… But I think the goal would be to bring in an equal balance of each genre, and then push them to the foreground at different parts of the story to blend them together. I’m not sure how I would do it, and I probably won’t ever try, really.

The DN series was shallow and cheap for these reasons among many others, especially the "there was not much concrete substance" part, because even the substance was not grounding enough to me.

Interestingly enough, DN to me is like a carnival as opposed to a theme park. A theme park is a whole thing. A day excursion. A planned event.

At a carnival, the rides are short, they’re not really scary, you’re never really worried, yet they’re still fun. Maybe even a little boring to some. But one ride is never enough. And it’s not the only the rides, it’s the whole environment. It’s the candy and games, and the lights and sounds, it’s the people. One night to escape from the usual. It’s what you make it. It pops up for a time and then leaves, because it was never meant to stick around. It still provided a good time.

I’ve said before this series was never meant to be torn apart and analyzed to this degree. And I know there are a hundred other series that have the exact same tropes and similar plotlines? So are we so mad that this series was so bad compared to them, or are we mad that this series could have been better? Why are we still here talking about it when so many others have faded as soon as we closed the cover?

As you said, there are some things PD does very well in their writing. So maybe we are just upset that DN had so much promise and failed to deliver?

[critrolesideblog]

Caleb Widogast pushed his hair out of his face for the ei--nineteenth time in about as many minutes. Caleb and Essek were reading for pleasure this evening, with the aid of Comprehend Languages: Caleb the collected poems of Erdan Niemi, a famous Drow bard, and Essek, Die Waldhexe und andere Zemnische Volksmärchen. They were seated at opposite ends of one of the sofas in the tower salon, their legs in the middle not quite touching. But some time into Essek's reading, the repeated scrape of sweater against paper edge and rustle of hand in hair became too much for him to ignore.

It was a long time coming really. Essek recalled that it had been Veth who had braided back Caleb's hair for him, when they were in Aeor last. Since there was no Veth to braid it this time around, Caleb had fallen into the habit of roughly tying it back in a ponytail or bun, with varying degrees of success, depending on the amount of effort he put into it, which, lately, was middling, and tonight, none at all. There were times when the mess was charming: when Caleb shuffled into the dining room in the morning, stray locks framing his face; when he ran his hand through his hair in excitement at a new discovery; when some friendly wind caused wayward strands to brush just so against his lips. At the moment, though... Essek took a large sip of his wine and set the glass gently back on the table. "Caleb?"

"Hmm?"

Despite the response, Essek knew better than to continue right away. Caleb's head tilted up toward him slowly, but his eyes lingered on the page a moment longer. When blue finally met lilac, Essek took a  deep breath breath. "May I... braid your hair for you?"

Caleb blinked once, twice, three times, before his eyebrow and lips quirked up with a humor that was a little too insightful. "Well, if it’s bothering you..."

Essek gave a huff of laughter at being caught, before pressing his hands together in front of his lips, arranging his features into a semblance of solemnity. "It is driving me insane." Caleb laughed, as Essek hoped he would.

"I apologize if I have driven you to distraction," he replied, in a voice that sounded not remotely contrite. Essek averted his eyes and took another small sip of wine to provide an alibi for the warmth in his cheeks. "Please, by all means." Caleb pulled free the tie holding his hair in place, and with a small shake of his head, the copper strands fell down around his face and shoulders.

Essek gathered his composure, clearing his throat slightly. "Excellent -- ah, Liesl?" He said quickly, turning to the tortoiseshell cat relaxing in front of the fireplace. She opened one amber eye in response.

Liesl was Essek's right-hand cat. She had been standoffish at first, it was true, but it seemed Essek's years in politics were not wasted in the ruins of Aeor. "Liesl, would you please have Jaakko fetch me some additional hair ties and a comb?" Liesl, without raising her head from her paws, turned her gaze to the cat in question, all black and slender, whose interpretation of cleaning apparently included batting a piece of crumpled paper around the legs of a desk with incredible enthusiasm. At some unseen signal, he turned his attention to Liesl, and after a series of tail twitches, trotted off into  a nearby cat door. She turned her gaze back to Essek. "Thank you, Liesl. That will be all." She chirped at him in response and returned to her nap.

Caleb's eyes were back on his book now, but Essek did not recall anything in Niemi's works amusing enough to justify the grin on Caleb's face, which Essek now had an excuse to give due consideration. He did not think the braids that Verin favored in their youth would suite him particularly well, and they were a bit elaborate for a night in, besides. Perhaps just a variation on the Gwardanian-style braid Veth employed.

Jaakko returned in no time, the items required laid out neatly on a tray held aloft by his long tail, and, with one last small sip of wine, Essek rose from the sofa and moved to stand behind Caleb. He took a deep breath as he picked up the amber comb from the tray. There was no cause, he told himself sternly, for his heart to be racing as it was, which was, of course, a lie. He raised the comb above the copper strands. "I am going to begin now?"

"Ja, danke."

Whether the thanks was for the impending braid or the warning, Essek was not sure, but he drew the edge of the comb gently back along the scalp, carefully delineating a section of hair at the top of Caleb's head. He tied the sides and back out of the way, and if his face warmed at the brush of fingertips on neck, there was no one able to see it. He gathered up the hair closest to Caleb's face and divided it in thirds, before weaving the right third over the center and then left over center. He repeated the process, carefully gathering more strands in on the sides as he went. He was about halfway through with the braid, when Caleb leaned to the left without warning, nearly pulling the locks from his grasp.

"Pysy paikallasi!" Essek hissed, decades-old habit causing the words to spill from his lips in Undercommon, but it did not matter. Comprehend Languages was still in effect. "Mitä sinä teet?"

"I want some wine," Caleb explained, extending his arm to the side to demonstrate that the glass was just out reach.

"Did Veth allow you to move around when she braided your hair?"

"She never complained."

"Then she spoiled you terribly."

"Will you hand me the wine?"

"No," he replied sternly, gathering the strands into one hand, careful not to mix them up, and then leaning over and passing the goblet to its owner.

"You are a riot, Herr Thelyss," Caleb said dryly, but Essek caught a glimpse of a grin as he straightened.

"I am glad you think so. I have been thinking of taking my comedy show on the road when we are done here."

"You should ask Veth if she has any material you can use. Will there be a Mighty Nein discount on tickets?"

"Please, if anything, I should charge you all extra for the honor of heckling me."

Caleb gave a mock gasp. "The Nein? Heckle you? We would never."

"Ha! Tell me another one!"

Caleb's shoulders shook with quiet laughter.

Essek stopped gathering new hair into the top braid, braiding the remaining length of the locks together, and tying them off. He then shifted to the left and began the process again with a section starting at Caleb's left temple. From this vantage point, he could spy the gilded edges and precise black script of the book in Caleb hands (and what hands they were! Capable, as he knew, of both great destruction and healing. And, perhaps, from this vantage, he could also glimpse the stately sweep of his cheekbones, the curve of his nose, the strength of his jaw, but who was to say.).

"How are you enjoying the poetry so far?" He asked, affixing his eyes firmly to the task in front of him. He had not known whether Caleb enjoyed poetry, when he gifted it to him. He had doubted, though, that Caleb had much opportunity to avail himself of Kryn literature during his time in Rosohna, and Caleb had seemed delighted, even touched, by the gift. He did not seem to be making quick progress through the text, however.

"Very much so," Caleb replied after taking a sip of wine. "I imagine I am sometimes missing some nuance or cultural context -- Comprehend Languages is a bit of a blunt instrument -- but I am enjoying it even more than I thought I would. You almost made it sound dry in your description, when you gave it to me."

"Ah, no, not dry. Only, all young Drow are forced to read his works as part of our schooling, and it colors our enjoyment of it somewhat."

"I see."

"Do you have a favorite passage so far?"

Caleb did not respond right away. "Yes..." He admitted, at last, and added, "It is from the Courtship of Lael."

Essek nearly lost his grip on the braid as he fumbled the strands mid-crossing. He had forgotten the Courtship was so early in the text. "Oh?" He asked, hoping it came across as polite interest.

"Would you like to hear it?" Caleb's voice had a softer, deeper hue than usual.

"If you like."

There was quiet for a moment.

Caleb did not turn to the page -- he did not need to. He merely cleared his throat lightly, and began:

"My lover's skin is a field of stars. What bliss to wander among the heavens! Let me approach as a pilgrim from the dark. Let me worship on my knees before the holy light. Let no beacon go without a prayer from my lips."

Every opalescent freckle on Essek's skin was now a flame. He swallowed hard. "That--that was, ah ... evocative."

"Ja, I thought so too." Caleb chuckled.

Essek tied off the left braid and moved around to the opposite side. They passed the time in quiet, as Essek's dexterous hands, having found their rhythm, made quick work on the braid on the right. And if he had a new awareness of the freckles that made fiery constellations along the slope of Caleb's neck, he gave no indication.

"You know it is a good thing you are braiding my hair up, with us going deeper into the Genesis Ward tomorrow." Caleb said at last, as Essek gathered the braids and the loose strands left over in the back up into a neat ponytail, tying it off with Caleb's original tie. There was more than a little mischief in his voice. "I should hate for Devexian to see me for the first time in months with my hair a mess."

"You are a riot, Caleb Widogast," Essek drawled.

"I'm glad you think so."

.

.

.

----

Notes: Pysy paikallasi! Mitä sinä teet? -  Stay still! What are you doing?

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 6 - ao3 -

As Lao Nie had predicted, Lan Qiren won the music competition.

This by itself would not excuse him from punishment – disobedience was disobedience, regardless of the result – but Lan Qiren’s brother, proud of the glory that had accrued to their sect under his leadership, decided that it mitigated it somewhat, and as a result the imposition of the appropriate penalty was postponed until they returned to the Cloud Recesses. There was a strong implication that any future misbehavior during the trip would be added in when determining the extent of the punishment, but Lan Qiren didn’t care about that: with his brother’s word, however careless, overriding his teacher’s, he was finally allowed to go out to look around the Nightless City.

Of course, by now all the other disciples had settled firmly into their groups, so he was still alone - he opted not to mention that to his brother. Given how cautious his brother was being to make sure that the conference went well and without interruption, he knew it would invariably result in his either being forced into someone else’s group or to not go out, and he didn’t want either of those. Anyway, he could take precautions by himself: since he knew he was traveling alone, he would be careful to stay in the areas that were indicated as safe, although he thought happily to himself that soon he would be old enough to go wherever he wanted without concern – not that he especially longed to go to the districts full of brothels or drug dens, of course.

It was reasonable to be cautious for now, though, given his unfamiliarity with cities. He was as dazzled by the massive night market – as boisterous as any of the daytime markets – as any country yokel, and the items available for purchase were as many and varied as the people who came to the Nightless City to sell them. It was almost a pity to have to return to the Sun Palace the next day for the remaining events of the discussion conferences, largely academic discussions and skill exchanges, or the day after, to spectate on the other competitions, both the minor ones for things like calligraphy and mathematics and, more importantly, the second main event, showcasing skill in riding.

Lan Qiren wasn’t competing, of course, but he obediently showed up to observe – or, rather, to daydream about something more interesting while keeping his face carefully oriented towards the competition stage – and the second he could, he slipped away into the depths of the Sun Palace once the competition itself was over. Actually leaving entirely would be rude, of course, even if it would have been his real preference to return to the wonders of the city. Still, he would much rather walk through the halls than endure the inevitable rounds of mutual congratulations that invariably occurred during the celebration held after the discussion conference’s main competition. All those sect leaders buttering each other up…

There were times, he reflected, when he was very happy to have been born a younger son.

Lan Qiren did his best to avoid any places where people were gathered, turning back at once if he saw the rooms were occupied. There was no formal banquet tonight, to his relief – they’d all eaten while waiting for the competition to finish – but the socializing had started in earnest, and it felt like there were people everywhere. It would go on late into the night, with sect leaders toasting each other from the endless jars of wine that could be found everywhere, and there would be a thousand and one boring retellings of the same old stories everyone always told at these things.

Better to avoid people.

Certainly better to avoid people like Wen Ruohan, Lan Qiren thought, backing away from a room that appeared to be a small library, where the sect leader was standing and gazing out of the window, not far from a small table with two place settings already laid out. Its presence suggested a more private rendezvous was anticipated, and others more inclined to gossip than he might have chosen to stay and try to see if they could figure out who Wen Ruohan would be meeting – probably Lao Nie, if Lan Qiren had to guess, given the whole Hanhan situation – or possibly to try to form a further connection with the aloof and arrogant sect leader, but Lan Qiren kept his brother’s warnings in mind: Wen Ruohan was dangerous.

Anyway, he’d gotten into more than enough trouble for one trip.

After a little more searching, he found a small, secluded garden – quite possibly the very same one from a few days before, now that he thought about it, though he’d long lost any sense of direction he might have had – and settled down on the bench with a relieved sigh. The party was far too loud and too boisterous for his taste, with far too many people. He might long for adventure and new experiences, but it was the lonely road and quiet towns that called to him, and sometimes also the massive and faceless cities, not the full-of-themselves sect leaders, each one in love with their own voice, that seemed to pride themselves on talking at least once to everyone who attended.

At any rate, it wasn’t his problem. His brother had made clear that he didn’t want Lan Qiren to assist him in forming connections for the sect – assuming he even could, with his terrible social skills that mostly made his brother and most of his etiquette teachers want to forget he even existed – and that meant he was completely justified in hiding himself away here where no one would find him.

“I never got a chance to congratulate you on your victory,” a low voice said from behind him, and Lan Qiren started in sudden surprise, having not heard someone enter the room.

Though, he supposed as he rose to salute, he wouldn’t – the difference between his cultivation and Wen Ruohan’s was like night and day.

“Sect Leader Wen,” he said respectfully, keeping his head down. His brother had been especially clear that he wasn’t to cause trouble for this man in particular. Not like last time, even though Lan Qiren still wasn’t entirely clear on what it was that he was supposed to have done wrong previously. He was starting to think he’d never figure it out.

Wen Ruohan walked into the room, his pace as slow and graceful as it had been three years ago – the glide of a very self-assured predator that knew itself to be the unquestioned master of its domain, not only fearless but also smug in its self-evident superiority. The aura of power, his cultivation at a level that could scarcely be dreamed of by most people, draped around him like a gaudy cloak, meant to excite envy and fear in equal measure.

Lan Qiren had heard rumors that Wen Ruohan would sometimes use the sheer weight of his power to lock people into place, forcing them to their knees or backs on the floor in front of him, humiliating and tormenting them for his own amusement, but he didn’t feel anything like that. It was a display of power, yes, but no more so than the priceless spiritual gem that hung on Wen Ruohan’s forehead or the luxurious quality of his clothing, white and red flame, black belt and gauntlets, the finest fabrics and the best embroidery.

“I thought I saw you earlier,” Wen Ruohan remarked. “Or at least the hem of your robes – were you running away from me?”

Lan Qiren’s face suddenly felt hot with embarrassment. “No, of course not!”

That interpretation hadn’t even occurred to him. Had he really been rude? Should he have stopped to greet him properly? He hadn’t thought so, since he hadn’t even entered the room, but his instincts on such things had always been terrible…

And there was still his brother’s exhortation not to spend time with Wen Ruohan.

“Forgive my rudeness, Sect Leader Wen,” he said, dropping back down into a second low bow before rising again. “No slight was intended. I’m not supposed to be alone with other sect leaders.”

“No? And yet yesterday I recall seeing you sitting here with Sect Leader Nie.”

That was true.

What was he supposed to say to that? ‘Yes, but he’s nice’? ‘But I’ve known him for years’? ‘He’s one of our sect allies, you’re too dangerous’? ‘I was told to avoid you specifically’?

Lan Qiren might not be the best at social niceties, but even he knew he couldn’t say something like that.

His face must be demonstrating some degree of his panic, because Wen Ruohan chuckled.

“You can make it up by spending some time with me now, little Lan,” he said, waving a hand in forgiveness. “Come with me – the study is far more comfortable than this garden, especially at this time of year.”

Lan Qiren didn’t really have any knowledge of what the garden was like at this time as opposed to other times, being that this was his only visit so far to the Nightless City, but he had no reason to question Wen Ruohan’s judgment on the matter.

A quick mental review suggested that he had no choice but to comply. His brother had been emphatic that Lan Qiren wasn’t allowed to draw Wen Ruohan’s ire, even if it meant complying with his instructions as if Wen Ruohan were an elder of his own sect; moreover, refusing now would probably be impolitic, especially given the other man’s misinterpretation of his earlier avoidance. In short, despite his best efforts, Lan Qiren had clearly stumbled into a social trap of what he assumed must be his own making. It usually was, after all.

It’ll be another punishment for this, probably, he thought, resigned. He didn’t think that anyone was going to come get him out of this anytime soon, no matter what his brother had said, and he was bound to trip up and say something embarrassing sooner or later. At least there’s only this evening and then the closing ceremonies in the morning – the sooner we get home, the sooner discipline can be imposed and the entire fiasco put behind us.

“Of course, Sect Leader Wen,” he said, and belatedly noticed that some of his resignation had seeped into his voice. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I will join you.”

Wen Ruohan chuckled again. “Most people would say that they were pleased to join me,” he remarked, turning and leading the way, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. “But you don’t lie, do you? It’s one of your rules.”

Lan Qiren felt helpless, following a few steps behind him like a small fishing boat caught in the wake of a warship. “It is one of our rules,” he agreed, since saying that he was happy to join Wen Ruohan would in fact be a lie. “I try to obey them whenever possible.”

“You’ve gotten wiser since we last met. I think I recall that last time, you said always obey the rules?”

“Wisdom comes with age.”

“Is that flattery?”

“Respect for one’s elders.” Lan Qiren paused. “Also a rule.”

“Of course,” Wen Ruohan opened the door to the study that he had been in earlier, the small library with its single table and two settings and window showing the outdoors, and swept inside. “Tell me, then, as the expert in your rules – what rule is it that allows the Lan sect to develop such skilled politicians? One would assume that lying was a prerequisite.”

He doesn’t actually care about the rules, Lan Qiren tried to remind himself, his brother’s voice echoing in his ears. And yet what else could he possibly talk about with Wen Ruohan? It was a question the other man had posed directly, and he was supposed to be obedient, or at least try to be…and he really, truly enjoyed talking about the rules.

“There’s some debate on that subject,” he temporized, but Wen Ruohan arched an eyebrow and inclined his head in an invitation for him to continue. “Some posit that the rules regarding the obligations to honor one’s elders and protect one’s family require that the benefit of the sect take priority over other obligations. Others take the view that not lying is an obligation of general good conduct, which cannot be disregarded, but that it is mitigated by other rules – do not speak frivolous words, for instance.”

“I take it that you’re in the latter camp.”

Lan Qiren was, as it happened, but he wasn’t sure he should say so. After all, it was Wen Ruohan’s ancestor who had first raised up his family and started the tradition of the clan as the sect rather than schools as it had once been, and by all accounts the process of doing so had been a bloody one – what was that if not a belief that your family takes priority over the common good?

He couldn’t say that, though.

Speak meagerly, for excess words only bring harm.

“I am,” he finally said, since Wen Ruohan was still waiting for him to respond. “It is a matter of personal opinion.”

He bit his tongue to keep himself from continuing to talk. There were at least fifteen other points of interest that had come to mind at once - the rule against lying was one of the more debated ones, and of course there were all sorts of writings on the subject of balancing worldly concerns with philosophical ideals more generally. And it was so rare for someone to actually express interest in it!

Speak meagerly, he reminded himself desperately. Meagerly! Haven’t you done enough harm already?

“I see,” Wen Ruohan said. “Come, sit.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose on the sect leader’s time,” Lan Qiren protested automatically. “If you’re already expecting company…”

“Who says I am?”

Lan Qiren looked helplessly at the table. There were two place settings, as he’d briefly glimpsed earlier, and a few snacks laid out already, mostly grilled vegetables – it was perfect place for a private meeting to talk business with another sect leader, which Lan Qiren wasn’t, or else to sit and converse with an old friend, which Lan Qiren definitely wasn’t.

“The servants make it up that way preemptively,” Wen Ruohan said, and Lan Qiren twitched as he realized that the other man had come up behind him, standing a little too close. “They do it in all the rooms, in the event someone wishes to use it. There’s no one coming.”

For some reason, that sounded almost ominous.

Presumably just Lan Qiren’s bad social sense again. Such a display was likely nothing more than the Wen sect showing off yet again, this time in terms of their wealth and the number of servants.

And, well, if the table really had just been set out to be used, surely it would be wrong not to use it? There were rules about avoiding waste, too.

“In that case, I thank Sect Leader Wen for the honor of the invitation,” he said, and sat down properly, sweeping his sleeves back and arranging himself. That it got him a little further away from Wen Ruohan was not as much of a secondary consideration as it probably should have been. “Would you like me to serve tea?”

“I was thinking something stronger,” Wen Ruohan said, sitting down as well, and reaching for the jar already there. “Why not a toast to your family’s victory? A double victory, no less, with you taking first in music and your brother the same in riding. Most impressive.”

Lan Qiren hesitated. That was a very appropriate toast, complimentary – exactly within the boundaries of what an elder ought to say to a junior, really. And yet, at the same time…

“Sect Leader Wen,” he said uncomfortably as Wen Ruohan poured out a double helping in each bowl. It was clear liquor, not wine. “This one apologizes, but…I am not accustomed to drinking.”

“No?” Wen Ruohan was smiling, but when Lan Qiren obediently met his eyes, there seemed almost to be something dangerous about his expression.

“It’s not that I question the quality,” Lan Qiren said hastily. “It’s only – you see – alcohol is prohibited –”

It was one of the rules. Unfortunately, it was one of the more controversial ones: it was generally waived outside of the Cloud Recesses, given how often hospitality required some form of drinking, and there were still elders in the Lan sect who simply refused to obey it at all, citing its uncertain lineage.

They were not in the Cloud Recesses now.

Wen Ruohan started laughing. “Little Lan,” he said. “Are you saying you’ve never had wine before? Aren’t you sixteen already?”

Lan Qiren’s shoulders involuntarily rose to his ears. “I’ve had wine!”

But only peach blossom wine, or rose wine, served at weddings as a toast for good fortune – but he couldn’t admit to that, since that was all kid’s stuff, barely classified as alcohol. He’d never even tried Emperor’s Smile, for which Gusu was famed.

Wen Ruohan’s smirk suggested that he’d guessed the truth anyway.

“It’s only a toast,” he said instead of calling him out on it, picking up his own bowl. “Surely you wouldn’t reject my good faith?”

When it was put like that, of course, there was nothing to be done for it.

Do not draw his ire, his brother had counseled him. If he approaches you, respond gracefully and comply with his wishes until someone comes to recover you.

After all, Wen Ruohan was well known for being moody and unpredictable, for having all sorts of strange whims and no inclination to refrain from indulging himself in them. Lan Qiren had no idea why he might suddenly be inclined to desire Lan Qiren’s company, of all people, nor as to why he would insist on him drinking a toast – at most, he could only speculate that it amused Wen Ruohan to force him to do things with which he was visibly uncomfortable.

And yet, as the saying went, it was unwise to refuse a toast only to be forced to drink a forfeit. Wen Ruohan, as the host, as the elder, as the powerful, could very easily press the issue even more than he already was, escalating from an interpersonal discussion to an intersect issue.

And how could Lan Qiren explain that to his brother?

“Of course not,” Lan Qiren said, giving in and lifting the bowl. “Thank you for your toast, Sect Leader Wen.”

He put the bowl to his lips and drank.

The liquor tasted sharp in a way with which he was unfamiliar, he observed, curious despite himself at the new experience, and it burned his throat when he swallowed. The sensation was almost distinctly unpleasant, actually, and he had to force his gag reflex not to activate, tears coming to his eyes.

He wondered, briefly, why people inflicted such a thing on themselves.

And then, just as he was thinking that, the alcohol hit him all at once like a tidal wave, descending in an overwhelming crash that obliterated all his senses.

[jokerscrazybrilliant]

Survive - Chapter 3 - (Captain Rex)

Chapter 1 · Chapter 2 · Chapter 3 · Chapter 4

Story on other platforms:

A03 · Quotev

________

Not for the first time in my life, I found myself in the middle of a war. But not the kind of war I was used to. It all began when I wiped the training mat with Fives' face in front of all his brothers. This led to him serving me a cup of caf which I thought was a peace offering but turned out to be not entirely caf. Kix ended up having to pump my stomach and spent an hour lecturing both Fives and I on the dangers of consuming anything that goes in a battleship engine, no matter how much either party might've deserved it. Since I couldn't have Fives one upping me, I ended up sneaking into his barracks and shaving off most of his beard, making him look utterly ridiculous and having him walk around with his bucket on for most of the time until it grew back. He then returned the blow by breaking into my quarters while I was away and painting his signature five on all my clothes. I did not confront him, instead borrowing some standard issue blacks to wear until I could get more robes with the next supply run. But carefully, I plotted my revenge. "I thought revenge wasn't the Jedi way?" Kix commented while searching for the necessary tools for the operation. "Let's call it justice then. You gonna help me do this or not?" I raised a brow at him. "Of course." I smiled deviously. "Then let's get to work!"

***

The plan was set in motion. I was grinning, quite proud of myself as I sat, eagerly watching the doors in the ship’s mess hall, surrounded by the usual group of idiots. I had informed everyone in the squadron notto touch the caf machine today, and even with the numerous displeased grumblings and complaints, everyone was on board with the plan. Everyone except for Fives, of course. “Nim, are you even listening to me?” A voice insisted on drawing my attention away from the mess entrance.

“Not really Echo, why, have you said something important?”

He sighed, shaking his head in amusement. “I guess not.”

“I hope Fives gets here soon, I’m tired of waiting and I have to get to the med-bay soon.” Kix complained, pushing away his empty tray.

“Speak for yourself, I only just got here.” Echo said, shoveling food into his mouth as if to prove his point.

I grinned at the boys’ usual antics before turning back to look at the newest arrival, who was making his way to the caf machine. My eyes grew wide in realization as Rex went to press the button. Everyone but the captain! I stared in shock, my mouth about to form a shout before his hand made contact with the machine, electrocuting him immediately. He yelped in surprise, staggering backwards before composing himself quickly.

Turning around slowly to face the mess full of soldiers that had just witnessed what happened, his face was a combination of emotions as he searched the faces in front of him. “Alright, which one of you boys is responsible for this?! Fess up!”

It was chaos. Kix was giggling like a mad schoolchild beside me, and Echo had his face in his arms while trying not to choke on his food from across the table. Fives, who had stepped into the mess hall at the most opportune moment, was heaving on the floor, tears in his eyes as he took in the situation, obviously knowing it was I who was at fault. The other men were at varying degrees of delight, some simply laughing, while others, like hardcase, were shouting in joy, slapping the table loudly.

I was silent, face stonelike as I rose from my seat. “It was me captain, I am so sorry, it wasn’t meant for you – It was meant for that bitching lunatic!” I lost my composure as I pointed at Fives, only making him laugh harder. “I warned everyone else but I guess I forgot to tell you.”

The captain faltered as he looked at me, temper dissipating as he raised a hand to rub his face wearily. “That’s okay commander, didn’t realize it was you.”

“You can taze me back captain, it’s only fair.” I walked up, looking from him to the caf machine earnestly.

He chuckled lightly, “That won’t be necessary.”

I shook my head adamantly, “No, it’s only fair.” I quickly stepped in front of him, jamming my hand down on the caf machine before he could say anything else, letting out a small grunt of pain at the shock as the electricity buzzed painfully through the entirety of my body. I twitched on the floor, unsure of when I had fallen. The captain stood over me, offering me his arm.

“Are you alright commander?”

“I’m alright.” I choked out, chest still constricted in pain. “I may have fried my every last brain cell, but I’m alright.” I grinned as I realized he was laughing at me. “I am glad, however, that you find this amusing.”

His laughter only increased as he helped me up to my feet. “Permission to speak freely, commander?”

“Of course.”

“Are you certain the Fives is the lunatic?” I laughed at his words.

"Oi! I just fried myself on your behalf, you ought to show me at least a little respect.” Finally, the pain subsided and I quickly became aware of all the eyes that were on us. I cleared my throat as I devised a new plan, seeing as how the old one backfired so spectacularly. "May I borrow your gun, captain?"

His eyebrows furrowed as he took it out of his holster, handing it over slowly. "I'm almost afraid to ask why?"

My eyes locked on Fives, who registered what I was thinking a moment after I answered Rex. "I owe someone a little payback."

Fives immediately turned around and bolted out of the caf, but I was right behind him, setting the weapon to stun as I went, the caf full of soldiers cheering me on. Kix followed after us to make sure neither of us killed each other, and Echo followed after him to record it on his holopad.

My chase was cut short when we ran into Master Skywalker in the hallway. Immediately, I straightened myself as if I had been taking a stroll the entire time, flashing him an innocent smile. "Anakin." I dragged the last syllable of his name in a singsong, “What can I do for you?”

"Hello Nim. If you've had your fun, we need you on the bridge for a mission debrief." His eyes roamed over all the guilty party, from Fives, who was cowering in an entryway, to Kix, who was attempting to hide behind me, to Echo, who was trying to discreetly put away his holopad, finally settling back on me with an amused grin. "I'm glad to see you're finding your place here."

I nodded with a small chuckle, relieved when he turned and walked towards the bridge ahead of me. I turned to give Fives a threatening glance on my way. "I'd watch my back if I were you." I hissed as I passed by.

We quickly made our way up to the bridge, where Ahsoka was waiting, and Captain Rex had somehow beaten us there.

Anakin wasted no time in explaining the mission to us. “We’re being sent to the Quell system to aid Master Aayla Secura. As I understand it, her Jedi cruiser is damaged beyond hope of repair, so we need to prepare a ship to dock and evacuate anyone we can. Rex, prepare the men, Snips, go with Nim and make sure that ship is ready by the time we arrive, I’ll meet you at the gunships. Let’s have some fun!”

***

Thankfully, we hadn’t been too far from Quell, so before long I was onboard a gunship with Master Skywalker, Ahsoka, and Rex, on our way to board Master Secura’s ship to help with the droids that had overtaken them.

I watched as a stream of rocket droids powered by duo jets made their way from the separatist ship to Master Secura’s, landing on the surface and cutting their way in. “Those droids are boarding Aayla’s ship!” Anakin called over the noise. One of the battle droids landed on our gunship, ripping into the cockpit. “Take care of that clanker! I’ll be onboard Aayla’s cruiser.”

“Master! Are you sure that’s the wisest thing–” Anakin ignored Ahsoka’s comment, and I watched with awe as he jumped down, landing on the back of a super droid as it made its way to the ship.

Master Diya had been a great Master who liked to encourage creativity in problem-solving scenarios, however he usually carried the stoic air you would expect from an esteemed Jedi Master, and wasn’t usually so unorthodox. Master Skywalker, as I was eagerly learning, was entirely the opposite. He faced everything as he was, an overwhelming swirl of emotions attitude and power. And he cracked jokes as he did it.

I turned to look at Ahsoka with excitement in my eyes. “Your master is fun!” I exclaimed.

“Yes, but it gets him into troub–” I missed the rest of Ahsoka’s comment, turning to leap after Anakin, eager to join the action. I managed to land on my feet on the back of a super droid, slicing it in half before hopping down onto another, and another, before finally landing on Master Secura’s ship.

I hopped down into the ship after Anakin, slicing through battle droids as we went. “I see you followed my example.”

“Couldn’t let you have all the action.” I grinned at him as we went through several more droids. Ahsoka made her entrance before long, Rex and his troops following after her. “Glad to see you could join us.” I flashed her a quick grin before deflecting a shot back at a droid, then slicing it and the one beside it.

“You shouldn’t encourage him you know.” Ahsoka teased as we made our way to Master Secura.

“I heard that!” Anakin called, taking out the final droids separating us from the Master and her troops.

“Nice entrance, Skywalker.” The Twi’lek turned to greet us. “How do you plan on getting us out of this mess?”

“I have a ship docking in the lower hangar as we speak.” Anakin responded, grunting with effort as he stabbed his lightsaber to the hilt into two droids at once.

Quickly, we led the path to the port, ship shuddering around us as it took more hits than it could bear. “We made it!” Ahsoka exclaimed, extending the docking port. We quickly ran down the corridor but an explosion sounded, making me turn to watch as Master Skywalker force pushed us out of the reach of the blast.

“It’s too late!” He turned to try to face the blast as the doors shut between us.

“Master!” Ahsoka and I shouted in shock, quickly getting up to try to find him. I opened the blast doors slightly as she searched for his form.

“I found him.” She sliced a hole in the doors and we pulled him through, quickly getting him onboard the ship so we could detach. Ahsoka and I carried Anakin to the med-pod as Master Secura headed to the bridge, hopefully to get us to dock with the Resolute.

“Ahsoka, get an oxygen mask on him while I turn on this med-droid.” I quickly gave her a task to occupy her while I fiddled with the med-droid, searching for it’s on button. “Kix is much easier to wake up.” I mumbled, recalling the pleasant memory of dousing him with ice water and wishing he were here. He’d know how to calm Ahsoka down. How to calm me down, too. I thought to myself, conscious of the unrest that surrounded the force around me.

The droid finally powered on and began working on Anakin, beginning its scans and attempting to stabilize him. I gave Ahsoka’s shoulder a little squeeze as she stood back to let the droid do its work. “He’ll be alright.”

She gave me a little nod but didn’t speak, watching her master with anxious eyes. I felt the ship shift around us, and my brows raised of their own accord. Making my way into the hall, I found Rex working on a repair panel. “Did we just jump to hyperspace?” I asked, observing how he handled his hydrospanner less than expertly.

“Not sure. Just trying to repair the shields.” He said, accidentally shocking himself and letting out a frustrated huff before trying again.

I folded my arms and leaned against the wall, watching in amusement. “Need some help there, captain?”

He turned at my teasing tone, but unfortunately his helmet obstructed whatever expression he held underneath it. “I think I’ll manage, thanks.”

I laughed as he shocked himself again, “Just let me help.” Leaning down beside him, I took the hydrospanner from him, taking his place in front of the panel as he moved to the side slightly. “Besides, you’ve been fried enough for one day.”

“Yeah, thanks for that.” He watched as I began repairing the damaged panel easily, blushing lightly as I laughed again in embarrassment.

“Sorry… It was an accident.” He chuckled at me, shaking his head.

“It’s alright, I’m just messing with you.” My grin didn’t fade as I kept working at the panel. “How are you so good at that?” He piped up after a few silent moments.

I shrugged easily, thinking I must’ve appeared to know more than I did. “I like starships.” Completing the repairs, I replaced the panel as Master Secura rushed past us, Ahsoka following her into the cockpit.

“That seemed important.” Rex commented, and I nodded as we stood to follow after them.

“Karabast.” I mumbled to myself as the flashing screen showed us heading directly for a star.

“We need to shut down all the power circuits so we can reset the coordinates.” Master Secura commanded.

“But that will cut off Anakin’s life support!” Ahsoka protested the orders.

“I don’t like it any more than you do, but it’s a risk we’re going to have to take.”

“We don’t have much time.” I interjected, preparing for being thrown out of hyperspace. “Let’s do this.”

“Switching off primary power units.” Ahsoka informed.

“Ready to shut off auxiliary power.” Master Secura said from her spot beside me.

“On three. One, two, three!” Master Secura pulled the lever, turning off the remaining power to the ship and throwing us violently out of hyperspace.

The ship shook around us and Rex, who had been attempting to hold onto the chairs in front of him, was tossed backwards, slamming into me, throwing us both against the wall and taking Master Secura with us.

“Switch the power back on! What are you waiting for?” Commander Bly shouted back at us in panic as we came up on the star.

Master Secura reached through the force, switching the lever back on just in time for us to miss the star, Rex and I crashing onto the floor as the gravity came back on. “Ow!” I complained loudly, untangling myself from him and staggering to my feet, helping him up as well.

“Sorry commander, are you alright?” He brought up his hand to the back of his helmet embarrassedly as he apologized.

“I’m fine, but man your armour hurts.” I wheezed, rubbing the bruise I could feel already forming on my side from where his elbow had slammed into me.

“Well, we’re not gonna crash into that star, but we’re definitely going to hit that planet.” Ahsoka pointed out of the viewing port in front of us. With the state our ship was in we definitely weren’t going to have a smooth landing.

Gritting my teeth, I braced myself as we began our descent into the planet’s atmosphere. The shields lasted well enough that the ship didn’t break apart until we hit the ground, flames rising around us. “Everyone out!” Rex shouted, Master Secura and Ahsoka going to get Anakin while I helped Cameron, who had been injured in our escape, out of the shipwreck.

“I – I’m alright commander, thank you.” Cameron gave me a little nod of thanks as I let go of him slowly, letting him find his way to where we would set up camp.

Commander Bly scouted the area as the other troopers set up the campfire and I helped set up a small protected area for the injured Anakin to rest in. Rex searched the ship for anything we could use but unfortunately the med-droid was damaged beyond repair.

I watched as Master Aayla and Ahsoka argued about leaving Master Anakin behind. While I understood Ahsoka’s worry, I also understood that Master Secura wanted to use this opportunity to teach the young padawan to learn to control her attachment. I could sense the anxiety Ahsoka was pouring into the force from concern over her master. I related to it, having gone through similar experiences with my own master, and when I ultimately lost him, it was excruciatingly painful. Having gone through that myself made me appreciate what Master Secura was trying to do for Ahsoka.

They seemed to have settled their dispute before coming to join the rest of the group, Commander Bly holding out a wooden carving he had found while scouting the plains around us. It showed some sort of people, surrounded by what looked like giant trees. “General Secura, look. We're not the only ones here on this planet. There has to be some kind of – something here.” Master Secura took the carving from his hands before strange guttural screeches drew our attention to our surroundings, soldiers flicking on their helmet lights, my hand drawing near my lightsaber on my belt. “That doesn’t sound too friendly.” Rex commented from next to me, gazing into the plains with his gun drawn.

“No, not at all.” I murmured. I squinted my eyes but found nothing, then opening myself to the force. I couldn’t sense anything too close, and satisfied, I stepped back to where Ahsoka kneeled in front of Anakin’s form. “Be strong, Master. Just a little bit longer. Rex and Nim will watch over you.” She told him. “It is time to go.” “Don't worry, kid. The commander and I will take good care of him.” Rex told her, helmet tucked beneath his arm. When'd he take that off? Master Secura turned to us. "Alright, both of you keep your locators on. We should be back by daybreak with whoever, or whatever, lives on this planet." "Got it, General Secura." Rex gave her a nod. “Hey, kid. Good luck." He gave Ahsoka a small smile and she returned it before they headed out in search of giant trees, and whatever help they could find.

“Hey Rex?” I spoke, still watching their retreating forms in the distance.

“Yes commander?”

“What if the trees are normal sized and the creatures are just really, really, small?” I turned to look up at him, pleased to see him grinning widely at my asinine suggestion.

“The thought had occurred to me, commander.”

I moved to sit in front of the fire, glancing at Anakin to make sure he was still breathing. “Are you really going to keep calling me that? No one else does.”

“Doesn’t matter to me what everybody else does, sir.”

I nodded sagely at this. “I respect that. I just wish it didn’t mean you kept calling me ‘commander’.” I kidded lightly, grinning as he sat down near me. “Fives didn’t even bother trying with that.” I chuckled, thinking of how easily Fives had abandoned all protocol when we became such quick friends.

There was silence between us for a while, and I could see him mulling something over in his mind before he turned to look at me, finally speaking up. "I’ve been meaning to say, commander, that I’ve noticed the way you treat the troopers in our battalion. Like they're your equals. That kind of treatment... It's rare. And it means a lot to those men. It means a lot to me. So, thank you." I glanced away from him for a moment, trying to maintain my composure and stop the flush from creeping into my cheeks, before turning back. "I know that what we're fighting for is important but sometimes... I can't help but feel like they deserve more. Deserve better. I see someone like Kix and – he's such a dreamer. The fact that war is the only life he's ever known, it just doesn't seem fair."

"All due respect sir, but we were bred for the sole purpose of this war." The firelight reflected in his golden eyes, giving them a fervour I’d never seen before. I nodded. "I know. But you're still people." He held my gaze meaningfully before turning to look into the fire in front of us. "You're one of very few who see it that way." He shook his head, lost in thought as he stared into the crackling flames, and I resisted the urge to say anything else. “You should rest, commander. I’ll take first watch.”

I shook my head at him. “I’ll take first watch, you rest!”

He huffed out a chuckle at my stubbornness. “While I appreciate the sentiment, I know I hit you pretty hard back there.” I immediately stopped nursing the bruise on my side. I should’ve known he would notice it. “You should rest it off for a bit, then I’ll have my turn.” He pushed before I could protest that it was nothing.

Sighing, I stood up and found a small area across the campfire from him. “Fine. But don’t let me sleep too long.” I lay down on the uncomfortable dirt and tried to find some peace in the silence of the nature around me.

***

A low predatory growl in the distance woke me before the nightmares could, and I bolted awake, holding my lightsaber at the ready.

“Everything alright, commander?” Rex asked from opposite the campfire.

I scanned the plains in front of us carefully. “Something’s out there.” I spoke quietly.

“Clankers?” I shook my head and he turned to see if he could spot anything.

“Something else. A creature of some kind I’d guess. And it’s not alone.” I got in a defensive stance, my back to Rex and his back to mine as we stood protectively in front of where the injured Anakin lay.

A large creature jumped at me from the shadows, and quickly I activated my lightsaber, slashing it, causing it to take a few steps back. I could make out a fierce beak, a dark feathery mane, and four taloned feet. It tried to swipe at me again, but I slashed it again, this time successfully cutting into the flesh of its leg, causing it to whimper and run off as I heard blaster shots behind me.

Whirling around, I found another of those creatures standing over Rex. It had him completely pinned down even as he tried to get a shot on it. Quickly jumping over it to land near its face, I slashed at its beak, and it backed off immediately, running after its counterpart.

“Are you okay?” I extended an arm to Rex, and he took it, nodding at me gratefully as he got to his feet.

“I’m fine, but those things will be coming back. And I’ll bet they’ll bring their friends with them.”

I nodded in agreement, staring after the creatures. “I hope the others are doing alright out there.” Quietly we sat back down, more vigilant than before as we waited for whomever returned first, the creatures or our friends.

***

It was well into the next day before we saw any more action. Rex was walking around the perimeter again when Anakin awoke, grunting as he tried to sit up. I quickly tried to get him to lie back down. “Master, you need to rest!”

“I can’t rest. They’re coming.” I helped him stand and turned as I sensed the creatures from the previous night approaching.

“Rex!” I shouted him a warning and he responded immediately, gun drawn as the two creatures stepped into the clearing. Rex managed to shoot the first one down before it could do any damage but the other one pounced on him, knocking him down before heading for me and Master Skywalker. I quickly tried to put myself between him and the creature and push us both out of its path as it charged. It overshot us and quickly found its bearings, preparing to charge again before a small furry being jumped into the clearing, tying a rope around the large beast’s legs and trying to pull, attempting to trip it.

Ahsoka followed it into the circle, and I turned to Anakin, figuring the others had a handle on things. “Are you alright, Master?” I asked him, laying him down gently and checking him over to look for any additional wounds.

He hacked out a cough before responding. “I’m doing great, can’t you tell?” I grinned at his signature sarcasm, glad he was well enough to find his wit.

“Of course, Master Anakin.”

“Master!” Ahsoka ran up to us, having successfully dealt with the large beast, and knelt next to Anakin, seeming relieved to be back by his side.

“Good to see you, Snips.” I smiled and backed off to give them privacy before we loaded Anakin onto a stretcher to carry him to whatever civilization Ahsoka had found.

Turning to find Rex cradling his arm, I raised a brow in concern. “That thing got you?”

“Just a scratch.” He shrugged it off, moving to stand next to me as we watched the creature who arrived with Ahsoka introduce himself to Master Skywalker as Wag Too in Basic.

“I guess those trees really were giant.”

“I guess they were.”

[fridayfirefly]

Fairest of the Fair

Read Fairest of the Fair on AO3

Masterlist

Written for Maribat March Day 9 - Teen Titans

"We've got five hours until the fair closes. That's five hours of funnel cake, Ferris wheels, and rigged carnival games," announced Dick as they stepped out of the car in the parking lot of the Jump City Fair. It was a tradition for the Teen Titan team to visit the fair every year. At first, it had been an effort to humanize them to the citizens of Jump City, to show that they were more than just superheroes. Now, the reason that the team went every year was simply that it was fun.

"I can't wait to try everything." Marinette had been looking forward to the Jump City Fair all summer. It was her very first American fair, and Gar had promised that he would show her around, giving her the full fair experience.

"C'mon, I smell funnel cake." Gar grabbed Marinette's hand as they ran through the crowds.

Marinette laughed. "I was coming with you, you don't need to pull me along."

Gar let go of her hand and pouted. "We need to get there faster. Just think of all the funnel cake we're missing out on while we're standing around talking."

"We can still hurry. I just don't want to run into anyone." Marinette giggled as she followed Gar through the crowd. He wove in between the crowds of people like an expert, scampering right through the chaos of the fair crowds without disturbing a single person. Marinette found it a little more difficult - she was much less nimble than Gar, but every time she fell behind he waited for her to catch up.

"I followed the smell of funnel cake right to its source and here we are." Gar stopped in front of a food stand proclaiming itself to be All-American Funnel Cake. "This is the best cuisine America has to offer."

"Of course. Everyone knows that the greatest American delicacies are carnival food. Who needs gourmet crêpes and macaroons when you can have funnel cake and corn dogs?" joked Marinette.

"Exactly. I'll order our food, you find us a seat."

Marinette strolled through the seating area, trying to find a bench that wasn't covered in syrup and melted ice cream. When she finally found a suitably clean chair, she collapsed into it. She was already sweating from the hot August sun beating down on her, and she couldn't wait to get her hands on something to drink.

"I got the funnel cake and lemonade," said Gar as he set them down on the table.

Marinette grabbed the cup of lemonade and took a long sip of it, savoring the chill. "It's so hot out here. How do you stand it?"

Gar shrugged. "It's all part of the fair experience. It's miserably hot in the day, but it still manages to get uncomfortably chilly once the sun goes down. That's why I brought a jacket."

Marinette shook her head. "If I were wearing a jacket right now, I would probably pass out from heatstroke. Your ability to withstand extreme heat must be one of your superpowers if you aren't even sweating."

"Stop talking about me and start talking about funnel cake," Gar whinged. "You came all the way to America just to try some."

Marinette laughed. "I came all the way to America to join the Teen Titans. The funnel cake is just a bonus." Taking a generous bite of the carnival food, Marinette proclaimed, "I like it."

"Yes!" Gar cheered. He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and marked something down. "Step one: have Marinette try funnel cake. Complete."

"You have a list?"

"Your first-ever fair is an important occasion. I want to make sure you didn't miss out on anything."

Marinette smiled. "That's sweet of you. So what are we doing after this."

"After this, we play the rigged carnival games. Then we ride one of the many spinning rides. Then we'll get roasted cinnamon almonds. Then we check out some of the art competitions. Last but not least, we ride the Ferris wheel as the sun sets. Then we meet up at the car with the rest of the Titans to watch the fireworks and go home after."

"That all sounds like fun to me." Marinette finished her lemonade and funnel cake, then turned to Gar. "Ready to go lose at some carnival game?"

"I was born ready." Garfield grabbed Marinette's hand and led her to the carnival game. There was a hoop toss game, a game where you popped water balloons using oversized darts, a game of knocking down coke bottles with baseballs, something vaguely resembling ski-ball.

"Which one should I pick?" asked Marinette.

"They're all varying degrees of impossible, so just pick the game with the best prizes."

Marinette scanned the rows of colorful stuffed animals until she saw the one she wanted, on a shelf beside the ski-ball tracks. "I want the green kitten," she exclaimed, pointing.

"Why?" Gar sounded amused by her enthusiasm.

"It reminds me of you," Marinette admitted.

Gar smiled. "Okay, I'll help you win. We'll win it together."

Ski-ball was harder than Marinette remembered. After twenty minutes and twenty dollars, she and Gar still hadn't managed to get all ten ski-balls into their respective holes.

"Face it, Gar, we just aren't good enough to win."

Gar shook his head. "I'm not leaving until I win you that kitten. One more set of ski-balls." He handed a five-dollar bill to the game attendant. "Do you want the first ball?"

"Sure, but this is the last time we play. I'm not letting you spend all of our food money on this ridiculously impossible game." Marinette grabbed the first four balls off of the counter and gently rolled each one of them up into the first hole, and Gar successfully rolled the next four balls - the first eight were easy. It was the ninth and tenth ball that they failed on. "I'll take nine." Marinette brought her arm back, then swung it forward and released the ninth fall. It landed perfectly into the ninth hole. "It's all on you, Gar."

He narrowed his eyes, plucking the ball off of the counter. This was the closest they had gotten to winning. He swung the ball forward, tracking the arc with his eyes until it... landed right in the final hole.

"You did it!" Marinette cheered, grabbing Gar's hand and lifting it up in the air. "Winner!"

"Here's your green cat." The game attendant handed the stuffed toy to Marinette, who clutched it against her chest.

"I love it! I'm naming him Milo and keeping him forever."

"Alright, now that you've won your first rigged carnival game, you and Milo need to pick out one of the many rides here to try it." Gar pulled a map of the fairground out of his pocket and started pointing out rides. "I recommend the Merry-Go-Round, the Tilt-A-Whirl, and the Paratrooper."

"Which one is closest?"

"The Tilt-A-Whirl is just to the left and around the corner."

Marinette grabbed Gar's hand and pulled him along. "Let's go!"

Together they ran through crowds of people, darting around people and out of the way to avoid bumping into anyone. They made it to the Tilt-A-While and rode until Marinette got so dizzy she couldn't walk in a straight line and Gar laughed so hard his face turned red. Then Gar and Marinette made their way to the Merry-Go-Round, where they rode it a couple of times. Then they met up with Dick and Kori and got more carnival snacks with their friends.

"Say cheese!" instructed Marinette as she paused to take a picture of her friends for the official Teen Titans Instagram account.

Kori grinned and pulled Dick closer to her. Gar reached for the camera in Marinette's hands. "Turn the camera around and make it a selfie."

Marinette did as instructed, moving her own head in front of the camera and grinning as she took the picture. She quickly typed a caption. Enjoying cinnamon glazed almonds (Beast Boy's favorite) and butterbeer at the fair. Hope everyone's having a great day in Jump City! "And... post!"

Marinette sat down to enjoy the snacks, Gar slipping his hand into Marinette's. "Try the cinnamon almonds first, they're delicious."

"They'd better be," teased Marinette. "You've been hyping them up all week."

"I could write poems about these almonds, they're so good. And I know I could probably get them any day of the year, but I only ever get them when we go to the fair so that they never lose their appeal."

Marinette popped a handful in her mouth and hummed in appreciation. "Oh, these are good. I'm going to have to get a recipe for these, so I can make homemade cinnamon almonds."

Gar's eyes lit up. "Homemade cinnamon almonds. That might be the best combination of words I've ever heard in my life."

Marinette playfully narrowed her eyes. "What about 'I love you.'"

Gar's eyes widened. "Um, third-best combination then. Right after when you told me, 'I love you', and when I told you, 'I love you.'"

"Good save. The execution could use some work though. I give it an eight out of ten," joked Dick.

"I'll be generous, and give it an eight point five," added Kori.

"Hey, only I get to tease him," protested Marinette as she gazed at Gar lovingly. "Now feed me more almonds."

Marinette ate another serving of almonds and drank two glasses of butterbeer before Dick and Kori decided to separate from them and find the trapeze tent. Gar got his list back out, checked off the activities they had already completed, and announced, "Now it's time for more rides. Paratroopers, here we come!"

Just a few minutes later, Marinette was pressed against Gar's side as their cart swung through the air. "This is nice," said Marinette. "The Jump City Fair gets the Ladybug stamp of approval."

"Just wait until you see the fireworks. The grand finale is amazing. You'll love it," promised Gar.

"I bet I will." Marinette rested her head on Gar's shoulder as she watched the world spin around them.

When they got off the ride, Marinette and Gar walked hand-in-hand to the art competition tents, where paintings were hanging all around the tents.

"Look at this one!" Gar pointed to a painting of the Teen Titans in action, fighting the H.I.V.E. Five in the streets of downtown Jump City. "This one has my vote!" Gar called out.

"Shush," said Marinette with a laugh. "You're biased."

"Nope. No bias here. Just pointing out what is objectively the best painting he's ever seen."

"Oh really. If you're such an impartial judge, tell me why it's objectively the best painting."

"Because you're in it, Buginette." Gar grinned at her, pointing at Ladybug in the picture, fighting Jinx with her yoyo.

Marinette laughed. "You're so cheesy."

"To be fair, you did walk right into that one," Gar defended himself as they left the art tent. "If you're going to leave yourself vulnerable to compliments, I'm going to take that opportunity to compliment you."

"Oh, look at the sunset!" exclaimed Marinette as she saw the yellow, pink, and orange sky.

Gar slipped his hand into Marinette's. "It doesn't hold a candle to you."

Marinette got onto her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "You're too sweet. Now let's go ride that Ferris wheel."

Gar and Marinette walked to the Ferris wheel hand in hand, getting into a car and riding it all the way to the top, where they could see the sunset reflecting off of the ocean.

"You were right, it does get cold," said Marinette with a shiver.

"Here, take mine." Gar took off his jean jacket, laying it across Marinette's shoulders.

Marinette smiled. "How about we split the coat while we're up here. We'll just have to squeeze together." Marinette pressed herself up against Gar, moving the jacket so that it draped over both of their shoulders. Sighing softly, Marinette watched Gar with a smile on her face.

"What are you thinking about?" asked Gar.

"I just don't want to forget this moment."

"I can fix that." Gar pulled his phone out of his pocket, started a video, and turned his camera around so they were both in frame. "How are you feeling, Buginette?"

Marinette kissed his cheek, then smiled for the camera. "Perfect."

"Jump City Fair is a success." Gar ended the video as the Ferris wheel started up again, moving them back down to the ground.

"Every day with you is a success."

The fireworks started as they walked back to the car, bright and colorful. Marinette slid her hand into Gar's gently rubbing circles with her thumb. She knew that he used to be scared of fireworks - still was, a little bit - as a result of his animal tendency. Gar flinched back as the boom of fireworks sounded above him.

"Focus on my voice," said Marinette. "I love you. I love you more than all the stars in the sky. I love you more than all the drops of water in the ocean. I love you forever."

Gar wrapped his arms around Marinette. "I know. I love you too."

@maribatmarch-2k21

[sheriff-caitlyn]

I started this blog in 2014, as the first Caitlyn on tumblr, and obviously I’ve been through a lot of retcons and changes myself, not only adapting to Riot’s own public retcons (from the minor, like her aesthetics, to the major, like the removal of the Institute of War as an integral part of their lore) but also to my own. That’s the thing about playing a character as complex as this, is that you learn more as you go. In your interactions with others and the creation of backstory, history, and other bits of worldbuilding to better understand the world you’re in, a character goes from a handful of images and some in-game voicelines to a fully-fledged person with a complex narrative. Sometimes things change, and that’s fine. But there are some changes which... aren’t. 

For all the fingerprints I’ve put on her, she is still not my character. But I care. Sunk-cost fallacy, maybe, but I care about this character I have been involved in and I care about the direction she has been taken. So, without further ado, I’d like to delve into:

The Recent Caitlyn Update In Piltover’s New Context or, We Gotta Fetishise Police Violence, I Mean, Look At Her, She’s So Hot

Back in August 2015, I went, ‘Oh No, they’re going to try to turn Piltover into Gotham City, aren’t they?’, and lo and behold, suddenly we have Poison Ivy now. But I will get back to that, later. In this particular thread, I noted that many of the characters in Piltover seemed destined for a revamp that would rob them of what originally drew us to them in the first place, and that Piltover seemed destined for a rework that would wash out much of their character. Piltover and Zaun were always meant to be polar opposites, but suddenly we were seeing glimpses of Piltover being ‘not as good as everyone thinks’, which hinted that Piltover and Zaun were destined not to be polar opposites in the future, but indistinguishable from each other. It worried me that the only thing telling these two fascinating cities apart would be the sunlight.

So, when we have so much potential for a clash between Zaun and Piltover, between ‘Science No Matter The Cost’ and ‘We Must Advance The World With Care’, why change Piltover to some murky middleground, turning peace and security into wartime capitalism? A world where the people are shitty, where weapons and profit come first, and the only ones making a stand are the ones who are so embittered they have nothing better to do?

Because it has to be ‘interesting’. We’re going to lose bits that we like, that we’re familiar with. And that’s why I’m concerned.

This was before Piltover and Zaun were squished together in an ugly - and utterly ham-fisted - method of showing How Complex The Future Is. There’s layers, guys! Literal layers to this one single city! That means it’s deep! But when I say ‘bits that we like, that we’re familiar with’, I’m not clinging to a fanon interpretation. I’m saying the things that drew us to the world and to the characters to begin with. I could adapt from Caitlyn turning from brown-haired and brown-eyed to black-haired and blue-eyed, because even through I had been doing art, at that point, the change gave me an opportunity to express and discover more about her character (her eye colour being influenced by her mother’s magic, for one). But some of the more stark changes - to family, to job, to personality, to the city of Piltover itself - these result in a character changing completely. I was worried that the cool detective who literally made the world a better place would be chopped and changed into something unrecognisable. I even expounded on my concerns in November 2016, where I could see some of the ways the writers at Rito might make adjustments in the direction of their lore updates.

All this to say, I’ve been working on her for a while, and I was bracing for some bad news. This? This is kind of the worst.

Caitlyn has always been the Sheriff of Piltover, an authority figure, a representative of the law and order that Piltover is famous for. Piltover’s peace and financial prosperity has been directly linked to Caitlyn’s concerted effort to eradicate crime (not criminals, crime! Which, as I have mentioned particularly in this post from 2014, means she upended and reformed the justice system, from the legal process to the prisons to how people are treated as citizens). The city is safe, people have greater access to personal wealth and development, classism is erased, society is flourishing. Zaun, as Piltover’s polar opposite, is a corporate nightmare, with ‘do as thou wilt’, private bodyguards for the rich and powerful while the poor scramble to survive in a system that barely treats them as human. Vi, as a Zaunite, brings a lot of her ‘violence as a problem-solver’ methodology to Piltover’s law-enforcement, though she seems to have no intention of returning to Zaun and seems to have bonded with Caitlyn (‘teamwork!’) to Get Shit Done. And, apparently, there is still shit that needs to be done, though nowhere near as much as there had been in the Bad Old Days.

Vi was, at the time, the awkward-grit-teeth-grin-ha-ha-um-yeah representation of police violence. ‘Resist arrest’, she cries gleefully, as she beats people and breaks down buildings, and we are supposed to go ‘ha, isn’t that funny’ with varying degrees of sincerity. Of course Piltover is going to have problems: anywhere that has wealth and stability is going to be targeted by the envious and the needy. Peace needs to be protected. The problem lies in how that protection is enacted.

So now we have the recent Legends of Runeterra update to Caitlyn, an update which looked at the context of Piltover needing protection, as well as the modern context of Riot’s California location in the Years of Our Lord 2020-2021, and then decided ‘you know what we need? Police violence, everyone loves police violence’.

MAN I thought the stripper-cop skins were bad but here we go!

Her Yordle Snap-Traps (which I envisioned as from the Yordle Military, rather than a racially-profiling weapon as, y’know, they work on human-and-larger-sized people as well) have now been replaced by electroshock grenades, the intent gone from incapacitation and observation to outright paralysis and destruction. Her net-short is now apparently electro-conductive (admittedly, I have had one (1) single RP where that happened, but it came at both a cost to Caitlyn and to her weapon’s efficiency as a result, a last-resort against a dangerous opponent). Caitlyn’s cards in LoR take her from being a detective coordinating ideas and people and putting together a case to a SWAT team leader. This might be the biggest problem in working for a non-combat-oriented character in a MOBA, or in any fighting game: the game needs to find rationalisations for all of their characters being there, being combatants, being able to kill (even if, as Riot says, the lore is separate from the game). We have monsters and soldiers and ancient powers who of course they know how to spill blood and relish in doing so. But pacifists, like Karma or Bard? Explorers like Ezreal? And a sheriff, a peacekeeper, a law-keeper, someone mindful of responsibility and the importance of saving every life possible, like Caitlyn? They’re stripped of that depth and complexity in-game, but there was always the lore that backed them up. But they’ve done away with that completely. Caitlyn was never special operations. She was never military. But now she is, because she had to be changed to fit better into a fighting game. They had to make her violent, and as a result, they have undermined not only everything about the character that made her interesting to begin with - turning her now into a representative of police brutality, but with long hair, pouty lips, and a thigh gap - but they’re also re-writing the context of Piltover. It was bad enough to squish Piltover and Zaun together. But now, Caitlyn’s update is proof that Piltover has gone from a steampunk utopia to a violent, oppressive and cynical post-industrial world. The depiction of Caitlyn as a SWAT team leader (complete with special-forces beret, because hat! Caitlyn wears a hat! Nevermind the fact that she’s no longer wearing a distinctive tophat but instead a symbol of extreme state-sponsored force!) shows us that Piltover’s ‘army’ is not designed as a defence against outsiders, but as an offensive force against their own people. Caitlyn is supposed to be the representation of how peace and order is maintained in one of the largest factions in League of Legends, and if her method of maintaining order is straight-up police violence against their own citizens, then it’s not really peace and order. It’s authoritarianism at best, and facism at worst.

Piltover was different from every other nation in Runeterra because it didn’t have a military. It had defenders, and it had a powerful economy, and it had a democratic political system. But the Piltover update retconned Caitlyn’s hard work. The gangs were back - though now they’re big powerful families like Clan Ferros - and Caitlyn has been de-aged so that she’s still new to the force, that she hasn’t even had her chance to change anything. Her importance to Piltover is minimised... and why is Vi even there? (Oh boy I guess you’re going to have to watch Arcane to find out! Coming to a Netflix near you soon!) With a younger Caitlyn in a violent society, she has no choice but to be violent herself... even if that undermines everything previously established about Piltover and about Caitlyn. This update has made Piltover just as ugly and oppressive as Demacia, Noxus, and Zaun. It’s just another army equipped to do violence, but now that violence is turned inwards. This isn’t protection, it’s control. It’s fear. It’s oppression. Caitlyn is no longer a peacekeeper. She’s a monster. Chopped and changed, as I feared, into something completely unrecognisable from how she began in a world that no longer looks like what it had been... or should be.

It’s hard to tell what came first, the change to Piltover or the change to Caitlyn. Either way, the changes are inextricably linked. Caitlyn was integral to Piltover’s modern state, and Piltover is integral to Caitlyn as a character. Her (original) drive was to make the city and all its people better; Piltover was a utopia because of the effort of Caitlyn, and of people like her, people who wanted a better world. This new iteration of Piltover - full of fear and violence and hypocricy, layered over Zaun in such a way that makes ham-fisted commentary about the wealth/class divide - undermines the value of the individual. It removes agency. It removes hope, which had been integral to Piltover. Piltover is no longer the CIty of Progress... it’s the City of ‘you better be rich and pretty if you want to progress’. And Caitlyn is no longer a force for good or a representative of responsibility, because those things don’t exist in Piltover anymore. Legends of Runeterra has turned Caitlyn into a bitch, someone to hate. She has a marked lack of respect for people, as demonstrated in her new character traits of ‘casually-racist’ (her lines to Veigar), ‘condescending’ (her lines to Viktor), with some added pride in her violence (’here’s my calling card *shoots gun*’ and ‘I aim to win and my aim is excellent’). She is a representative of her city, and she is a terrible person now. Piltover is terrible. Piltover is ugly. 

But Caitlyn avoids that last part. And she’ll get away with it, because she’s a hot twenty-something.

In 2015, I drew Caitlyn-as-Swain, as an AU for what might have been. The overwhelming response at the time was ‘aaa she’s so hot I’d follow that leader of Noxus’, prompting a good friend Swain RPer to comment that Swain - who was, at the time, the withered man in green and gold who needed a cane - was just as smart as Caitlyn if not more so, a proven capable leader, but when it comes down to it, sex-appeal will always trump characterisation and storytelling, and that’s disheartening for someone who puts so much work into stories, to context, to something deeper than ‘Just another MOBA’. And here I am, in 2021, looking at how Caitlyn has been stripped of her fascinating and complex characterisation while maintaining her long legs, long hair, and corsetted figure. Now, I do appreciate the fact they’ve given her a better costume than miniskirt and boobtube. She deserves so much better. I even commissioned back in 2015 for a Better Look for Caitlyn; Tom aka FaerieFountain went on to make her new look canon. But she’s supposed to be a detective. She’s supposed to be careful and methodical and mindful of her status and power. Instead, she’s been made gleefully violent, leaving a lot of depth behind in order to become just Hot Cop With Gun. (As an aside, was anyone else uncomfortable with Caitlyn’s high-school skin? Especially when the writer actually tweeted ‘step on me’? Hello? Ma’am? That is a high school student, that is a CHILD you are talking about? But Caitlyn is hot so it’s fine! Sexualise a child! it’s fine, she’s hot, it’s fine!) Almost everyone who has contacted me about Caitlyn’s LoR cards has been excited to see her. Good! She’s a great character! Or, she was. But the enthusiasm about her is tied to how she’s so violent, how she uses her power to abuse those who don’t conform. But she looks great, smoking hot, you know? And when she’s smoking hot, her dangerous and abusive behaviour and attitude are completely excused. An update to a character needs to take into account characterisation as well as the visuals. Her update, sadly, has focused on the all-too-prevalent problem of the viciousness of state-sponsored violence, rather than the complexity of detective work, of puzzle solving and intellectualism, but because she looks hot and speaks in that British accent, no-one’s going to care. Hot ladies can get away with so much, because legs and pouty lips, but I guess she’s also a cop or whatever.

And, as a momentary aside, why is an eco-terrorist suddenly Caitlyn’s longtime foe? It makes zero sense for Piltover and for Caitlyn that someone who plant-based powers is her biggest rival and the city’s biggest threat. Zero sense, until you take into account that Piltover has been stripped of its character and made into something more aligned with modern authoritarianism than the hopeful vibes of steampunk. Environmentalism? Not on my watch! Deploy the police (the good guys!) to silence the protesters (who are obviously the bad guys becase they’re protesting)! Because Piltover and Zaun are one city now, and therefore indistinguishable, we have a fucking Poison Ivy character causing enough trouble in Piltover to warrant entire fucking SWAT teams opening fire within the city limits and around peoples’ homes! Not Zaun, which is the environmental nightmare, but Piltover! With its fresh air and open skies! Yes, that’s a great place for an eco-terrorist to blame and/or try to fix! The whole thing is honestly so backwards! Like they’ve decided to make a cool character in the form of Corina and just shove her into the story, rather than finding a place in the narrative that suits her. The idea that Corina is C makes no sense. Caitlyn vs C is supposed to be Sherlock versus Moriarty, Ganimard versus Lupin, ACME versus Carmen Sandiego, world’s greatest detective against the world’s greatest thief. It focused on the intellectual battle, the need for self-improvement, and - most importantly! - that this was a fight that didn’t result in gunfire or people being put in bodybags. But we can’t have that in our fighting game! We can’t have people thinking, because that’s not the kind of game we have, it’s left-click-shoot out here on the Rift or in the cards. So now we have a woman with plant powers bombing Piltover, and a policewoman kicking down doors and opening fire. And she’s right there, in Caitlyn’s new splash art, within reaching distance of the sheriff!

She’s right there! In hot pink with a flower in her fucking hair! And Caitlyn doesn’t even notice? Looks like one of my major gripes about Caitlyn being updated - Incompetence - is rearing its ugly head. She cannot even see someone not five feet from her. Oooh, look out, Piltover, no-one can figure out why this single eco-terrorist is causing problems for years, but Caitlyn will figure it out! With her gun! Because she’s a cop with a gun, and cops with guns never cause more problems than they solve, right?

Look... I know. I know she’s not my character. I know that everything I’ve done is fan-interpretation. But I’ve worked for so long and hard and done so much research, and things I’ve done have even been seen by - and used by! - the company itself (not just in the ‘oh what a coincidence’ sense, either, I know my link on Hextech as a form of magic made it to several of the writers, some of whom later contacted me). I might be too jaded by all the disappointment to take it personally anymore, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still happen. We know Riot Games could be and should be better. So many people in this community - and people who have since moved on - put so much love and effort into the characters and the world, building up from scraps and guesswork and extrapolation. It wasn’t our world, but we enjoyed playing in it. We enjoyed struggling in it, because it pushed us to be thoughtful, creative, to be engaged and interested. Critical Theory doesn’t have to be negative... but this recent update to Caitlyn’s character and to Piltover as a whole is... it’s a step backwards. They’ve gone for the ‘ooh isn’t this gritty and dark’ approach, and swept away so much of what made the original so interesting, creative, engaging to begin with. They’d rather have controversy than people genuinely enjoying the thing that they’re opening their wallet for. 

Caitlyn was a detective who focused on responsibility, intellectualism, and care. What she is now is not the same Caitlyn they started with, and expresses a set of values that I do not support. This blog will continue to be focusing on the old lore, on what Piltover has been and what it should be: a hopeful utopia, a place for people to grow and be responsible and thoughtful and mindful of their place on the world stage. It’s not going to be perfect, but there’s hope, and there’s people here who want the world, and everyone in it, to be better than it is. I hope you join me, no matter who you are.

[etoileholland]

I’m not half the man I used to be

Pairing: Tom x female reader

Warnings: alcohol and drinking, a wee bit of angst with a fluffy ending 

Word count: 4.4k 

Summary: in the span of two years, you and Tom went from being inseparable, to him being someone you heavily detested. What happens when one drunken night rolls around and he wants to reconcile? 

A/N: this is a piece that I wrote for @spider-pxrkers​ writing challenge, which is the first ever one I’ve participated in! The flashbacks are in « » and the writing prompt I used, which is “say something, please, say anything” is bolded and italicised.

(gif not mine, all credit goes to its respective owner)

—

“Listen, I know I haven’t been the best, b-but I need you. More than ever.” He slurred into the phone, while you just sighed on the other end.

Tom was right in the middle of going through his very public heartbreak, which ultimately resulted in him frequenting a lot of pubs. He usually went alone, but the paparazzi photos proved that someone always had to come and rescue him. His usual saviour was Harrison, but tonight it would be you who would be called to save him.

He was right though, he hadn’t been the best to you. You two had a long history, and it was quite messy.

Two years had passed since you’ve spoken to him, and you knew he was only calling you because he needed the attention.

Two years prior to hating Tom, you were in love with him. You remember the fallout, all too well.

« You and Tom had spent the whole day together at his trailer, on his day off from filming. You were cuddled up watching a movie together, your chest touching his back, his arm around your waist. 

You two were more than friends, but when the public asked about the both of you, he always shrugged it off as a friendship. You both knew that he wasn’t exactly telling the truth, but it was for the best so that you could still keep some anonymity.  

As the both of you lay there perfectly content, he heard a knocking at his trailer door. He didn’t bother to get up, ignoring whoever was on the other side of the door. 

“It’s probably just Harrison, he’ll get the hint soon enough.” He remarked. 

The knocks on the door became a bit more frequent and urgent. You looked up at Tom, wondering if he was gonna do something. Before you could say anything, a voice from outside said, “Tommy, are you there?” 

It was a voice you had recognized instantly; it was of his costar, who was acting alongside him in the film.

“Baby, it’s cold out here, please let me in.” She said. 

“Baby?” You asked, watching his face contort into a frown. He ignored your comment, quickly untangling himself from you as he went to open the door. She quickly wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss. You sat there, confused, the shock written all over your face. 

Sure, she and Tom were friends, and you knew they were close, but he didn’t let you in on a pertinent piece of information--that they were actually dating. It was something that you had suspected, but he always seemed to reassure you that he was yours and yours only. Now, you realised that was untrue. 

As they pulled away from their long kiss, Tom turned around to look at you. He looked guilty, but she stood there with a slight smirk on her face. 

“Tommy, I’m guessing you didn’t break the news to her that we were dating.” She cooed, as she wrapped her arm around his. 

“I guess not.” He said in a hushed voice. 

“Right, well I gotta go.” You jumped up from the couch, as you scrambled to find your phone so you could bolt out of there. 

“Wait, I can explain.” Tom pleaded, but you stormed past the both of them and swiftly walked away from the trailer. 

“Hold on one second.” He told his girlfriend, leaving her alone in his trailer so he could follow after you. 

It was pitch black outside, and if it weren’t for your white sneakers he wouldn’t have been able to see you at all. He ran in an effort to catch up with you, the cold wind cutting right through him. It nipped at his cheeks, and he quickly regretted not grabbing a jacket before heading out. 

“Will you please let me explain?” He asked, trailing you. You sped up and nearly began to sprint when you felt a tug on your wrist. The jolt stopped you in your tracks, leaving you no choice but to confront Tom. 

“What is there to explain, huh? The fact that you’ve been leading me on and then decide to date someone else behind my back? I mean c’mon, that hurts.” 

He stood there, silent, unsure of what to say. You were right though, once it was said out loud, it did seem pretty hurtful. 

“Well what was I supposed to do? All this time I’ve been trying to protect your identity, which is what you wanted after all. I like her, and I can actually go public with her and it won’t matter.”

“Bastard.” You said through clenched teeth. 

“That wasn’t the way I meant to word it.” He exhaled, watching the way his cold breath swirled around the night air. “That was uncalled for. I should’ve told you that I was dating her, but I didn’t know how to bring it up.” He admitted, as he looked over at you. You let out a sigh, the air behind exhaled from your lungs visible against the night sky. You didn’t say anything, and he knew you well enough to know that meant you wanted an explanation after all. 

“I should’ve told you that I was with her, but I didn’t want to ruin what I have with you. I love being around you; you make me so happy, but I just didn’t want to put you through the tribulations of dating me.” He paused for a second to look you in the eyes, but you averted his gaze. He took another cold breath in and continued. 

“I know my life isn’t easy and I don’t want you to have to deal with that. You don’t need the paps following you at all times, and you definitely don’t need fans stalking you and your social media. I guess I was trying to do you a favour but now it doesn’t seem like much of one.”

“Yeah it definitely wasn’t much of a favour.” You choked out, as you wiped away a warm tear from your cheek. 

“I’m sorry. It’s just that she understands my life, you know? We run in the same circles, so she’s used to the chaos and whatnot. I don’t want to put you through that misery as well. For you, it’s a choice to not have your privacy invaded, whereas for me it’s part of the job. I was just trying to protect you, sorry.” He took a step closer to you, cupping your cheeks with his hands. 

“I love you, so much. So much in fact that I don’t want to ruin your life.” He let go of your face, and stuffed his frostbitten hands in his pockets. 

“And that’s why I have to leave.” He turned on his heel, a slump in his step as he walked away from you. He didn’t turn back as he walked back towards his trailer, head hung low. 

You watched him walk away, unsure of how to react. You stood outside long enough to watch him open his trailer door and slam it shut, wincing as it closed. 

You turned around, walking off the lot and back to your car. You huffed as you noticed the frost coating the windscreen, shivering as you struggled to open your car door. Sticking the key into the ignition, you waited for the engine to warm up so that you could leave and never come back. A few minutes later, you drove home, hoping to never see Tom again. 

But a few weeks later, you had seen it all over the news. 

“Stay calm everyone- Tom Holland is in a relationship.” TMZ buzzed.

“Okay I know a lot of girls are going to be sad but Tom Holland is in a relationship with his costar.” Entertainment Tonight boasted.

You couldn’t stand it. When you went to the market, his face was plastered everywhere on the magazine covers. The covers varied from “Tom’s new girl?” “Alert! Tom Holland’s no longer single?”, and “Who is this mystery girl that has stolen T. Holland’s heart?”

It was sickening. You hadn’t heard from him since, which left you no choice but to move on. It was difficult when he was everywhere though, from the TV to the movies to the magazines. Even though he was out of your life, he was still lurking around.

But now, time healed that wound, and seeing his face plastered everywhere didn’t evoke any emotions from you. Two years had since passed since that incident, and you had taken the opportunity to better yourself. You finished your degree, learned a few languages and took better care of your health. You were new and improved.

Not long after you had finally gotten over him, it came out in the news that Tom had proposed to her, but apparently she turned him down. Ouch. She mentioned it in an interview with Extra, and it didn’t come as a shock as she announced she was no longer with Tom, and had quickly moved on to an Italian male model.

You had felt really bad for Tom. Sure, you two weren’t together, and he hadn’t contacted you in years, but you still loved him, and cared about him.

You had watched his descent from grace, as he was spotted at more and more pubs, having attended less and less charity events.

“Tom Holland drinks away his sorrows over his painful breakup” was splattered all over the news outlets. His reputation was currently not great, as the photos showed Harrison helping Tom stumble out of the bars and into an Uber.

So it wasn’t really shocking that he had called you. »

You snapped back out of your thoughts as you heard him beg and begin to sob. You really did feel bad for him, except you didn’t really know what to do. You wanted to help him, but he did leave you so long ago, you were torn to say the least.

“P-please, I p-promise that I’ll b-be better, I just need you.” He whispered the last part, and your heart sank.

You let out a long exhale, taking a second to think about your decision. “Okay, where are you at?” You asked, and he let out a sniffle.

“I-I don’t know, I just walked around looking for a bar and I f-found this one.”

“I’ll need you to be a bit more specific, can you ask the bartender where you are?”

“H-hold on.” He held the phone away from his ear, and you heard a faint discussion in the distance. 

“Darling, I’m at t-the Dragon Lounge, in midtown.” He said, and you wrote it down so you could put it into maps.

“Okay, stay there Tommy, don’t leave.” 

“I miss you calling me ‘Tommy’, and I miss you.” He slurred, but you acted like you didn’t hear that part.

“Right, okay. See you soon.” You quickly hung up the phone as you went to go rescue him.

The Dragon Lounge was a twenty minute drive from your apartment, but since it was so late it only took about fifteen. You found a parking spot right out front, locking your car and walking through the large glass doors. It was nearly vacant inside, so it wasn't hard to find Tom, slumped over the bar with his head resting on his hands.

You walked over and tapped him on the shoulder, and he lifted his head slightly.

“Darling, I’m sorry and I miss you.” He pleaded, but you were taken aback by how terrible he looked. His eyes were bloodshot, his clothes were wrinkled, his hair was a mess, and he hadn’t shaved in maybe a few days, or maybe even a week. To put it lightly, he looked disheveled.

“Oh thank god you finally came, this guy is a mess.” The bartender said in a heavy Irish accent. “He tried to out drink the other Irish gentleman over there, poor boy’s sloshed. He only had two pints of stout but he was already down for the count.” He remarked, while cleaning the cups that Tom just drank out of.

“Well, thank you for watching over him, I guess.” You responded, grabbing Tom’s waist and helping him get up. It was all dead weight, and he wasn’t helping by trying to kiss your cheek every second he had.

“Alright well be safe you two, I don’t want to see him back for a while, he’s been frequenting the joint for the past week.”

“For the past week? He said he just found this place.” You questioned while the bartender shook his head.

“Oh no, he’s definitely been here every night since last Thursday.” He looked over at you and noticed the deep frown on your face. 

“Like I said, the poor kid needs help. Maybe check him into rehab.” The Irishman retorted as he gave you a little wave.

Maybe he should go there, you thought. 

You pondered the idea as you helped Tom stumble out of the back door of the lounge. You found your car and helped Tom get inside, and you even made sure to buckle him in, as if he was a little child.

The drive home was silent, and Tom had fallen asleep. His head rested on the window and he was snoring slightly. Any other time this would have been adorable, and would have made your heart swell. Now, you detested him.

You pulled up to your house and helped Tom get out of the car. You thought about leaving him in the car, but it’s the middle of winter and he would freeze to death. With his arm around your shoulders, you helped lead him to the front door, unlocking it as you were met with the warm air from the heater.

Tom let go of you as he stumbled to the couch and plopped down, nearly hitting his head on the armrest. You covered him in the throw blanket that was draped over the couch, and you made sure he was laying on his side so he wouldn’t choke. He tried to sit up, but failed as he plopped back down into the couch.

It really did pain you to see him this miserable and haggard. The light in his eyes was gone which was replaced by a dull, red look. His face was slightly swollen from constantly being drunk and his mouth was in a perpetual frown.

“I’ll be right back Tom, okay? You stay here while I get you some water.” You tried to move away from the couch but Tom had grabbed onto your hand.

“Please don’t go.” He whispered, barely audible.

“I’m just going to go to the kitchen, I’ll be back in a second.” You said as he nodded, letting go of your hand as you made your way to the kitchen. You filled up a glass of water and made him a cup of instant coffee, so that his hangover won’t be as excruciating.

You walked back over to Tom, who was holding his head as he sobbed. You saw that he was holding onto a picture frame that you had on your coffee table. You recognised it as an old photo of you two from when you went on a vacation to Paris together. It was a surprise birthday trip that Tom planned, and he had just taken you to see the Eiffel Tower. 

You smiled as you remembered how lovely that day was, but it was quickly replaced with a bittersweet feeling when you realised that the boy you loved then, in the photo, is different than the boy sitting in front of you.

You shook your head slightly to get the memory out of your head, as you set the cups down onto the coffee table. Tom looked up at you with teary eyes, and sniffled before muttering a little “thank you”.

“You’re welcome. Drink the coffee and the water and go to sleep. I’m going to bed now, so goodnight.” You said, making your way to the bedroom. You had babied him enough and it was nearly 1:30am, so you didn’t want to wait up to make sure he was asleep.

About thirty minutes had passed, but you couldn’t sleep. You were worried about Tom, and the worry was keeping you up. A few minutes later, you heard him rinsing out the cups in the kitchen, setting them on the counter before shuffling back to the living room. You wanted to check in on him, but decided that he’s probably okay.

It wasn't long before you heard footsteps approaching your bedroom, and you looked up to see Tom standing in the doorway. The coffee seemed to have sobered him up, as he was standing without swaying.

“Do you think we can talk? I can’t sleep.” He asked quietly, as if not to disturb you.

“I think tomorrow, erm, later today would be better, Tom. It’s 2am.” You said as you covered yourself up in your blankets, trying to hint to him that you don’t want to talk.

“Please? Just for a bit?” He pleaded, “It’ll be really short, I promise.”

“Okay fine, come here then.” You motioned for him to sit down next to you, and he did. “You have five minutes, so use them wisely.”

He took a deep breath before speaking. He looked over at you and hesitated, while you just stared at him with furrowed brows. He knew you didn’t love him anymore; it was evident in the way you treated him, and the way you looked at him with disdain in your eyes. He knew he blew it, but he was hoping he could fix things. He was determined to.

“God, well, where do I even begin? I’m sorry for being a jerk, and I’m sorry for choosing her over you. I made the wrong decision that night, and there’s not a day that goes by where I don’t regret it. I’m still madly in love with you, and I always will be. She didn’t make me happy, not a bit. You did, and still do. I know that you’ll probably never forgive me, and maybe I deserve that, but I just wanted you to know that I still care.” 

He glanced over at you, pausing before continuing. 

“Do you know why she broke up with me? She knew I was still in love with you, and that it wasn’t fair to her to have my heart taken by someone else. That, and I also moaned your name multiple times during sex on many different occasions.” He grimaced, and you broke out into an awkward laughter. 

“Yikes.”

“Yeah, ‘yikes’ indeed.” He laughed. “Anyway she left me, and it was the best decision for the both of us. But the reason I started to go to bars and drinking until I passed out was because I was trying to drown out the thoughts of you. It didn’t work obviously, I could never forget you. I wish I knew what to say other than sorry, but I’m sorry.” He looked down at his clasped hands in his lap, and added, “I would say more but I think my five minutes are up.” 

You sat there, unable to formulate a cohesive thought. All of the words that you were dying to hear have been said, but you didn’t know how to feel. It seemed genuine and sincere, but what if he doesn’t actually mean it? He’s still drunk after all, and he knows that you’re someone who easily forgives, so what if he’s taking advantage of you? 

“Say something, please, say anything.” He pleaded, but you sat there silent. After a minute of silence, you said, “I think you should leave.” 

He got up from the edge of the bed, sighing before walking to the doorway.

“Right, well, um goodnight, and thank you for everything. I don’t deserve you.” He paused again, wanting to give you a minute to process what he just said.

“Oh, je ne veux pas vivre sans toi. I still remember us saying that all the time, and it still holds true. I do not want to live without you.” Tom gave you a small smile before proceeding to go back into the living room.

You sat there speechless, unsure of what to say or do. That phrase replayed repeatedly in your mind as you tried to go to sleep, but you tried to block it out. It worked for a bit, and you managed to get a few hours of sleep, but then you awoke in a panicked state. 

Your mind replayed the memory in your mind, and it was torturing you. He knew how important that phrase was to you both, and it seemed like lifetimes ago when you had last heard that phrase, which was when he took you on holiday for your birthday to Paris. 

« Over two years ago, Tom had surprised you to a trip to Paris for your birthday, a destination that he knew you were dying to see. The night of your birthday, he took you to the top of the illuminated Eiffel Tower. The view of Paris at night was breathtaking, and as you stood there with the love of your life, you knew there was nothing more you’d ever want.

“I have something for you.” He said eagerly as he held onto you from behind. He let go to pull a nicely wrapped box out of his coat pocket, and handed it to you. 

“Tom,” you gasped, “you shouldn’t have. I thought the trip was my gift.” You said, but he nodded his head no. 

“Nope, but now please open it.” He insisted and you did as you were told. You unwrapped the box and saw that it was from Cartier. 

“Tom this is too expensive, I can’t accept it.” You tried to give the box back to him but he pushed it back to you.

“You haven’t even opened it yet, you don’t even know what’s inside!” He exclaimed as you rolled your eyes.

You opened the box and saw two thin gold cuff bracelets. After picking one up and admiring it for a second, you saw that there was an inscription on it inside. It read “je ne veux pas vivre sans toi.” You felt your eyes prick with tears, and Tom smiled as he wiped a tear away. 

“Well, what does it translate to darling?” He asked as he held onto your waist. 

“I don’t want to live without you.” You whispered back to him, smiling as he pulled you close to him. 

“I still don’t understand though, why are there two of them?” You asked against his chest, and he pulled away. Tom reached into the box and grabbed one, grinning as he put it on his wrist. 

“It’s for me to wear, so that we both know that we can’t live without each other.” He was crying too, and you wrapped your arms around his neck and held onto him, never wanting this night to end. »

You looked over at your phone on the nightstand near your bed to see what time it was, but you noticed a bracelet and a note that wasn’t there earlier. You picked up the bracelet and noticed that it was the Cartier cuff bracelet, but yours was buried in your junk drawer. Realizing that it was his, you saw a handwritten note underneath it, which read: 

“I meant it when I said that in Paris, I love you and I don’t want to live without you.”

-Tom xx

You let out a sob as you clutched his bracelet, realising that he really did care about you, even after all this time. 

You jumped out of bed and walked into the living room. Tom was snuggled up in a blanket, and his arm was hanging over the edge of the couch. His curls were in his face, and he looked peaceful. It was a stark difference from when you saw him earlier at the bar, but now he looks more like the old Tom, the one you had fallen in love with so long ago.

Carefully, in hopes of not waking him up, you put the bracelet on his arm that was hanging over the couch, but he began to stir a bit.

“Hmm, love? Is that you or Tessa?” He asked as you let a small laugh.

“It’s me.” You smiled as Tom sat up to look at you.

He grinned from ear to ear as he realised that you really were standing in front of him. 

You sat down next to him on the couch, staring at the ground. 

“Look,” you hesitated, “I appreciate the sentiment and all, but I’m still not sure if I can forgive you so easily. I mean, I’ve been hoping and praying that you would come back into my life and say all of these things I’ve been dying to hear you say, but now, it just doesn’t feel right. Especially since we haven’t spoken since, and I never did receive an apology from you or anything, until now. Why did you wait so long anyway?” You asked, watching as he thought of his response. 

“I was a coward, that’s why. I didn’t think you’d ever want me back in your life anyways. When I asked people about how you were doing, they said you were thriving, and I didn’t want to interfere with that.”

“Wait, you asked about me?” You inquired, cutting him off. 

“Of course, quite often actually.” He admitted. He half smiled and you half smiled back at him. “I didn’t deserve someone as amazing as you then, but I promise I’m going to change. For you, of course, I want to be a better man for you and you alone. I promise that on my life.” He smiled as a tear formed in his eyes. “I just want to regain your trust.” 

Your eyes scanned his face, seeing if there was any indication of him lying, but you knew the words were genuine. 

“Okay.” You said.

“Okay?” He questioned, a tinge of happiness laced in his voice. 

“I’m willing to give you another chance, but we obviously have a lot to work on. However, I’m willing to allow you to regain my trust and try to make this work.” 

He grinned, watching as you smiled softly back at him. “Love, I want to be better for you. I promise, whole heartedly. I promise I’ll protect you and never leave you, and I also promise that I won’t break your heart again.” He vowed, the corners of his eyes welling up with tears. 

You grabbed his hand, him grabbing it back while he gently rubbed the top of your hand with his thumb. 

“You better not.” You tearily laughed, watching his face break out into a smile. 

“I won’t, I promise.”

And he kept his promise. It took some time to regain his trust, but he had shown that he could be faithful. Your relationship was smooth and happy since that night, and you had learned to accept his hectic life, fame and all. He was always besides you, checking and making sure that you were always alright.

Exactly two years later, down to the very date that you two reconciled, you and Tom got married right at the top of the Eiffel Tower, exactly where he had first told you that he couldn’t live without you. Now, he never would have to. 

mes petits anges (taglist): @scarletxwidow @sunflowerhollands @fangirlwithasweettooth @taciturnspidey @musicalkeys @harrysleftchelseaboot @quaksonhehe @halfblood-princess-505

[bluemoonpunch]

Aries Season 2021

Aries Season: March 20 - April 19

“Faith, trust, and pixie dust” are major vibes for Aries season. With so much forward-moving energy coming in and not a single planet set for a retrograde until April 27th, it feels like the Universe is opening up entire dimensions to make up for lost time. The set in the very center holds Healing over Manipulation, a card deeply rooted in the 8th House, shadows, lower energy, hard times that serve a purpose. It’s like energetic therapy just opened up to help everyone cope with all of what went down, went up, and went around throughout 2020, but of course, it’s always up to you as an individual to take what is being offered to you.

That’s actually a major key here — taking what is being offered. With the internal guidance presenting messages like, “look at the bigger picture,” “the answers you need are coming,” and “prosperity lies ahead,” there is, for a lot of you, going to be these amplified pushes and pulls towards new states of being. Whether that new state of being lies within an entirely new environment, a new plan of action, a new set of goals, or even just a willful change in mindset, there will be an eagerness to “move with the seasons,” experience your own Spring or your own rebirth alongside Aries. 

The external guidance, which here serves only to support and validate the internal guidance that a lot of you will receive, lends messages like, “watch and wait,” “be loyal to what you love,” and “believe in yourself.”  All of these can really be condensed down into messages of reassurance and promise. Opportunities will show up if that is what you are waiting for. Commitment to your passion will lead you to a full harvest. Recognizing, utilizing, and trusting your own talents and capabilities in relation to what it is that you are trying to do, what you are trying to make happen will serve as the very road that you walk along, the very tools that you build with as you progress.

BUT WAIT!! Why would we all need support and reassurance if it’s just a big wave of fun and motivation? Support and reassurance imply struggle and disbelief, doesn’t it? Kind of? Yes, yes it does. On either side of Healing/Manipulation, there are two sets that present a kind of “mission statement” I suppose, but it’s definitely more lowkey and not so stress-inducing as an actual mission statement. On the left there is Transition being held up by Versatility, an interesting duo that shows a higher effort to literally transition, to literally experience some varying degree of rebirth, and for that, you, on a conscious level, need to be open to versatility. Be open to the changes as they will happen internally and externally, together, and therefore may require a bit of willful alignment and some mindfulness around moments in which you may be acting in resistance to what you, on a higher level or within your soul, actually want. 

When it comes to being versatile to internal plans and actions meeting external situations, it actually seems like that might be a little bit easier than what is being presented in the other set. On the right side, there is Belief being held up by Control. This is all about mind control, controlling your own mind, controlling your thoughts, maintaining a focus, and maintaining belief in yourself, your vision, your plans, and the overall process. These two cards trade support. Belief allows one to be in control while being in control allows one to maintain belief. Once this back and forth rhythm has been achieved, it might be relatively easy to maintain as long as you stay focused on what it is you are setting out to do, but before that, it might require a lot of effort for some of you to not lose momentum due to negative thinking or simply getting side-tracked. 

For that, those messages from the internal and external guidance are very important to hold onto. If you are someone who is trying to get something, anything at all, going within Aries season be aware that there is a lot of energetic support available to you as part of the human collective. If you lose momentum, if you lose faith in yourself, allow yourself to take a break, recharge, rethink, and do what you can to step back up to the plate and continue making your way through the season. If push comes to shove, just try to set a smaller timed goal to get some of what you’re after finished by the end of Aries Season, just so you can keep the stride going and grab onto that accomplishment. 

I would say to let yourself breathe, let yourself ebb and flow with your emotions, but deadass, this just does not seem like a time to fuck around, not a time to waste time, so… yes, be kind to yourself, but also operate like a boss bitch whilst the Sun is in Aries this year.

[peter-awesome]

https://vm.tiktok.com/TTPdhGNrrc/

I redownloaded Tumblr and changed my password to log in because I didn’t know where else to talk about this utter nonsense. This is the stuff that gives me energy to put in effort online?? Yeesh. This TikTok is about Ronnie Radke on a profile titled “The Emo Chronicles”. There’s a lot I feel like I wanna talk about. First, I’m done trying to separate “Emo” from Pop Punk & Post-Hardcore that became incredibly popular for a blip of time in the mid-to-late 2000’s. It *is* completely separate, but how can I care at this point. Ronnie Radke and “Emo” are being used when talking about the same thing. OK, great, time to move on, it’s been 15 years. The video begins referencing a recent TikTok from Radke himself where he talks over a dumb meme of Shrek looking like a “Scene” girl from aforementioned time period. The Emo Chronicles video goes on to… talk about how Radke is… an OK guy? Or it seems like that’s the thought the video ends on. I feel like it goes back and forth more than 3 times. For being a video seemingly supporting Radke, there is 0 reference made to his fat-shaming TikTok beyond showing it at the start of the video. I’m the most confused and we’re less than 10 seconds in. FOX News reports have more clarity. Anyway, the EmoTok skims his controversial history in music, which, in the end, doesn’t seem to matter too much because he’s got a song that’s “the number 1 song on Hard Rock charts”. You know, all the charts. All of them! It’s cool that Alternative Rock of the time is having a big resurgence in popularity, but the “charts” have literally always reflected the Post-Hardcore (which itself is varying degrees of Metalcore now) poorly and are not the barometer you should be using when focusing on any particular singer who also screams in his music. Are we just going to forget how he very literally injured fans at a festival that took place at Six Flags? Multiple instances of spitting on & taunting fans too? How he showed up to a fight straight out of middle school, a fight where a person got killed? You know, the kind of fight that’s organized by a bully yelling, “You. Me. The parking lot after school. You’re dead!” And he was 22, arguably an age where you should’ve known better than to bring a ragtag team of friends to a *fight*. You aren’t boxers; what the Hell were you even thinking? Then he was replaced in Escape The Fate, and then, after he went to prison, started another band that was worse and tried to be funny too. It was just a lot of wow, you know? Anyway, I don’t need nor want to hear about Ronnie Radke when I’m approaching 35. The music of I See Stars and Attack Attack! is more pleasant & listener-friendly than Falling In Black Veils Sevenfold. Sorry, that was a cheap shot. But what else do you expect from an Alt fan who outgrew this nonsense when he was 23? Music isn’t and shouldn’t be an excuse to treat anyone any way you want, let alone kids who already feel alone & out of place. Attack Attack!’s new EP is actually pretty rad. That’s not an ending to this but I’m tired & I can barely think of anything beyond how very silly the “point” of this TikTok is. There are good dudes & dudettes in Alternative music who deserve your time. And, if you feel a need to defend a certain singer after reading this, just… don’t. Go listen to whatever music you want & be content that you won’t change my mind.