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buckyskorpion · 4 years

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11 hours - part six

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Reader

Summary: bucky is the mystery you can’t wait to solve. if you can get out of his bed long enough, that is. a biker au.

Warnings: gang-typical violence, sex scenes, alcohol mentions, probably more to come so stay tuned

A/N: so i was gonna leave this on ANOTHER doozy cliff hanger but i genuinely thought i would get lynched so i decided to just leave it at a baby cliffhanger. a lot happened in this chapter and a lot of seeds have been planted for future chapters..... so lemme know what you think hehe. predictions?? angry letters?? pitchforks??? lemme know!! i wont be taking tags for this so please dont ask.

title taken from 11 hours by wet | playlist | please donate to my ko-fi!

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“You’re very calm for someone with a gun to their head.”

Honestly, you had been thinking the same thing. Sure, your stomach feels like a snake pit and your hands are sweating and you don’t think you’ve ever been more aware of your own heart beat, but other than that - you don’t understand why you aren’t panicking more. There are three men standing in front of you, one behind, all with guns. They’re wearing matching leather jackets with an octo-head patch on the sleeve, and they all look very scary. Briefly, you wonder if Bucky has a jacket like this, with a patch on to match his family. It’s an irrelevant detail you can’t help but fixate on right now.

Bucky. Hopefully listening on the other end of the phone you have tucked in your back pocket which your kidnappers haven’t been bothered to check yet, thankfully. You flex your wrists against the zip ties holding you to a chair and ask, “Where am I?”

“You should know,” your stalker turned kidnapper says with a condescending sneer. “You followed me here.”

“The Lerna?” you clarify, for the sake of hopefully someone on the other end of your mobile picking it up. You glance around at the old-style bar; chipped wood and beer stains, a rickety pool table one of your stalker’s friends is using as an arm rest. You curl your nose up at it - a little proudly, you note it has nothing on Sam’s bar.

“Do you recognise the place?” your stalker asks. That throws you. You want to ask what he means by that, why you would recognise this gross bar you’ve never stepped foot in, but you clench your teeth and school your face.

Once your dad sat you down in a chair much like this one, in his office at the house you grew up in. You were eleven, maybe, and you didn’t quite understand why he was tying your hands to the back with a necktie but you went along with it. He did this, sometimes - would orchestrate some strange lesson when his nightmares got really bad, his ghosts chasing him inside the house until he saw enemies in lampshades and kitchen cabinets. To keep you safe, he would say, and then he sat opposite you and asked what you would do if anyone ever put you in this position against your will.

“Kroshka, they will use anything against you,” he had said, and you see that now with the way these men are looking at you for any weakness. But you didn’t understand then, you were a kid thinking your dad was spiralling again, so he had cast around until he found a beer bottle on the coffee table. “See, like this. When the label is flat it’s fine, but as soon as one little corner lifts you can’t help it - you have to peel it all the way off. Don’t give them any corners, kroshka.”

You blink, once. The man in front of you scowls when you don’t answer, presses forward into your space in a show of intimidation. You try not to flinch, but that fear you were missing before is starting to set in real fast. What did he mean, do you recognise it? And why the hell are you so prepared for a situation like this, almost as if your dad has been training you for it since you could remember?

“Fine,” your stalker says, his breath fanning over you with how he’s leaning into your space. “Maybe you can answer something else, about your boyfriend.”

“Dunno who you’re talking about,” you say. It’s not a lie - technically, you hadn’t had the ‘boyfriend-girlfriend’ chat with Bucky yet. This man is not appreciative of your loopholes. He grabs your hair and yanks your head back, pressing his glock into your neck. You shiver, both at the pain and the cold of the metal. Through gritted teeth and mild hyperventilation, you say, “As a matter of fact, I dunno who you are either. That’s kinda weird, dontcha think?”

You can practically hear Bucky in your head telling you to shut up, but he’s not here right now. No corners, just like your dad said. Doesn’t mean you can’t try and find some corners of your own.

What you meant as a question to buy some time, with a bit of attitude on the side, sends your stalker reeling back from you. He’s confused, eyebrows drawn down low and his friends behind him look to each other with the same expression. Now, you’re confused as well. Everyone in the room stands (or sits, in your particular predicament) in a pure state of what the fuck is going on. It would be funny, if there wasn’t still a gun to the back of your head.

“You don’t know the patch?” the man asks, gesturing to the sleeve of his jacket. When you don’t respond he continues, slowly, reiterating his question from before but as a statement, “You don’t recognise this place.”

You have zero idea what’s going on, but whatever you’ve said seems have thrown your kidnappers for a bit of a loop, so you decide to roll with it. You say, and hope to god the man standing behind you doesn’t shoot you for it, “I’m starting to think you’ve lost control of this situation, pal.”

From the corner of the room behind you, a familiar husky-toned red head says, “Funny, I was thinking the same thing.”

Shots ring out, shattering the windows as one by one your stalker’s friends drop like dominos. Someone crouches behind you and cuts you lose with a knife, and you hear it clatter to the floor as they launch over the back of your chair feet first into your stalker. Natasha. The flash of her red hair over your shoulder as she sends him flying is unmistakable. You scramble from the chair, fumbling for the knife she dropped but your hand slides through something thick, wet. The man behind you with the gun lies dead, throat slit, his blood now all over your fingers. It mesmerises you in a sickening way, making your stomach turn and your vision go fuzzy.

You’d never seen a dead body before. Now they are all around you, the bar smelling like blood instead of beer and the sound of bullets pinging off glass the only noise other than Natasha grappling with your stalker. She’s so small compared to him but she has her thighs clenched around his throat and he gasps for breath, clawing at her legs. You watch, stunned, as he gets a grip on her and throws her off, sending her crashing into the wall with a groan.

She hits the floor and you see red - all you can think is that’s Bucky’s family and that man is walking towards her, his gun trained on her body as she tries to pull herself to her feet, so you stop thinking at all. You picture the back of your stalker's neck like the dartboard at Sam’s bar and you throw.

Bullseye. Just like your dad taught you.

The man drops, knife buried in his neck and haemorrhaging blood. He gurgles this awful, awful sound as he clutches at his throat, trying and failing to push the blood back in. Natasha looks from your still outstretched hand, trembling in place, to meet your gaze. You can’t begin to decipher her expression, nor do you want to. You feel like you’re going to throw up, or choke, or scream, or all three. The man you just stabbed in the neck groans in pain, eyes rolling, coughing blood from his mouth in thick clumps. You can’t feel your hands anymore.

The door bangs open and you flinch, stumbling back until you trip on the chair you had been tied to and fall to the floor in a crumple of limbs. It’s Bucky, eyes wild and larger than life with a rage you’ve never seen before. He has a huge sniper-rifle slung over his back as he strides into the bar, stepping right over the writhing body of your stalker.

“I’ll deal with you in a second, Rumlow,” he practically growls, kicking aside the man’s hand that tries to grab for him. You scramble to your feet, practically tripping over yourself to get to Bucky. Doesn’t it say something about you that you run towards the man responsible for the death all around you?

You crash into Bucky hard, the force of the impact knocking the breath right out of you and once it’s gone you can’t get it back. It feels like his arms encompass the entirety of you as he holds you so tight your feet leave the ground. His chest rumbles with words but you can’t hear him, your ears are ringing and your chest is tight because panic attack, you dumbass. You press your face into Bucky’s neck and hope that’s enough to escape the scene unfolding around you.

“Get her out of here, I’ll deal with this,” you hear Natasha say somewhere behind Bucky but you refuse to lift your head to see.

Bucky attempts to pull away from you to look at Natasha, you can feel him try and twist his head but the inarticulate whine that rips from your throat stills the both of you. It’s mildly embarrassing, the sound you’ve just made, but it’s out there now. Bucky shifts his grip so one big palm rubs soothing strokes up and down your spine and you feel yourself becoming boneless with every pass of his hand.

“I’m not fucking lettin’ him get away with this,” Bucky says, low, threatening - if you were this Rumlow guy bleeding out on the ground, you would be afraid.

“And he won’t,” Natasha says, and then like she has to remind Bucky of his own thoughts, “but you have other priorities right now. Get her out of here.”

You feel Bucky nod, his scratchy chin moving against the top of your head. He kisses your temple and holds the back of your skull with one big palm, pressing your face further into his neck. It means you don’t see the carnage of the bar when he moves to place an arm around your shoulder and steer you out the door, stumbling under his guidance on shaky, cotton-fuzzy legs. He’s hurrying you, but as gently as he can. Once you feel the bright burn of sunlight on your skin you pull back from Bucky’s neck, blinking in the now empty street and Bucky’s piercing gaze as he looks down at you.

“Are you with me?” he asks, his hand dropping from your skull to squeeze the side of your neck. You still feel like you’re sipping each breath through a straw but you nod. You can see in his eyes he needs you to be with him right now, to get out of here, so you try and blink away the fuzzies in the corners of your vision and focus on his face.

“I’m sorry,” you say, and christ, now is not the time for that stinging pressure behind your eyes you hate so much. You hope Bucky understands - sorry for not listening to him, sorry for getting you both into this mess, sorry for not being strong when he needs you to be.

Bucky shakes his head vehemently, tugs you in harsh and strong by the grip he has on your neck to press a bruising kiss to your forehead. Your eyes flutter close at the fierce way he holds you, presses emotion into your skin like the tattoos littering his skin - a brand of your own, in the middle of this eerily empty street with the blood of strange men on both your hands. The thought makes you shake, so you twist your fingers in the hem of Bucky’s t-shirt and breathe him in deep.

“I’m sorry, doll,” he says, then pulls away from you. He grabs one of your hands from out under his shirt and links your fingers, beginning to drag you down the street. Looking back over his shoulder, he says with a grimace, “We gotta go.”

He leads you to his bike, squeezed between a brick wall and a dumpster in a side alley a block away from The Lerna. It roars to life before you’ve properly swung yourself on the back, and you aren’t bothering with helmets this time as Bucky eases the bike out from it’s tight spot with unsettling ease. All you can do is hold on tight and close your eyes as Bucky leads you away, weaving through the city in nonsensical loops before you feel the air open up around you and the familiar sounds of Brooklyn.

Bucky takes you to Steve’s tattoo in Red Hook, the first time you’re been back there since that fateful run-in with Natasha. You’ve checked out completely by the time Bucky parks - he has to lift you off the back of the bike because your legs won’t work, and he all but carries you inside. Steve is quick to rid the shop of the two customers looking at designs out front as Bucky settles you on the couch by the tattoo beds. You sink into the faded red leather without feeling a thing. Distantly, you notice the kid who usually mans the tills looking at you like you’ve grown a second head, and you suppose you deserve that.

“Stevie, I think she’s in shock,” you hear Bucky say, and the childhood nickname makes you smile. You watch Bucky’s face crease up deep concern at the dreamy look on your face, so you suppose you should stop smiling like a crazy person. A giant blonde head swims into your view, just as concerned, and he drapes a blanket around your shoulders.

“Bucky,” you say, your eyebrows drawing down as you fumble for his hand. He squeezes your fingers and mumbles something to Steve who leaves you again, his voice mingling with the kid’s somewhere over Bucky’s shoulder but you can’t focus on that. All you can do is swim in the back of Bucky’s too-deep stare and say, “I killed him.”

“No, no,” he says, shifting closer between your thighs as he kneels on the floor in front of you. This would be funny to you in any other moment, something to tease him for as he takes both your hands in his and squeezes them together, silently imploring you to stay looking at him. He says, “That’s not on you, sweetheart, it ain’t. You didn’t kill him.”

You’re crying now, properly, which you suppose is a good sign because you don’t think people in shock can cry. You watch as something cracks in Bucky’s eyes as he watches you break apart, but you can’t stop now you’ve started. You say, “I did, I killed him. How do you do it? How do you just- I feel like my throat’s gonna close up. How do you live past this?”

Bucky’s face darkens, smoothing out to something stone cold and frightening. You don’t feel scared, though, as he leans into your space so close you almost feel cross-eyed trying to stay glued to the blue of his eyes. He searches your face for something and says, no room for argument, “You did not kill that bastard, you hear me?”

“But-“

“No,” he says, simply, and that’s that. “The only reason you were in that position is because of me, doll, so no. You didn’t kill him. It’s on me, and I live with that so you don’t have to. You got that? You don’t ever have to live with that.”

You don’t know how he makes you feel like he’s physically reached into your chest and pulled out your guilt through your throat, but he does. You can see it clenched tight in his fist, his eyes shuttering down dark as he shoves it between his own teeth to hold. It’s too soon for the feelings clawing at your ribcage but you feel them just the same, that cigarette burn he left on your heart aching so bad you could scream from it. You extract a hand from his to run down his cheek, along his jaw, cupping his face in your palm. He closes his eyes, shudders as though swallowing down the guilt for the both of you.

I love you for that, you think to the soft flutter of his eyelashes against his cheeks. I’ll love you forever for that.

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

When Natasha returns to the shop, and Sam bundles in not long after that, the four bikers sit around Steve’s prematurely closed tattoo shop and have a family meeting. You can’t help but feel like the kid who’s stayed up past their bedtime to try and hang with the adults, the words flying over their head and sleep pulling at their eyelids but they fight to stay awake anyway. Bucky pulls your head into his lap as he sits on the couch beside you, so you lie there and let him stroke your hair while they discuss what happened over the past two hours.

Two hours, and that’s all it’s taken for your whole world to spin on it’s axis. You’d learnt to throw knives at tree trunks with your dad as a fun, albeit unconventional after-school activity. And now you’ve buried a knife in someone’s neck, you’ve been kidnapped and tied to a chair and watched Bucky gun down men from a rooftop with his sniper rifle. He pulled the trigger with the same fingers he’s carding through your hair now, nails scratching at your scalp in a way that makes your toes tingle. How is that at all ok?

“We’ve started a turf war with Hydra, now,” Sam is saying, sitting backwards on a chair facing Bucky and spreading his hands out in a placating gesture as Bucky bristles. “It was unavoidable, alright, I’m just saying.”

“Not necessarily,” Natasha says. “Rumlow has had a vendetta against Bucky for years. He could’ve been acting alone.”

“It is strange we haven’t heard anything from Pierce,” Steve says thoughtfully. He is pressing an icepack to Natasha’s back, already bruising from where this Rumlow guy threw her into the wall. She’s lifting up her t-shirt and you can see a glimpse of a back piece standing out stark against her pale skin. Giant, feathered wings and a talon, a mosaic piece of what looks like a large hawk spanning the length of her spine.

“When Pierce finds out it was us that shot up his bar, though,” Sam says, making meaningful eyebrow movements to the group. They all nod thoughtfully and fall into silence.

None of these names make much sense to you - Hydra, Pierce, even Rumlow who you’ve gathered by now was your stalker. Was, because he’s dead now, and the thought turns your mouth dry and rusted. You shift in discomfort, drawing Bucky’s attention down to you as he gives you a concerned once over. He had done a thorough analysis for any injuries, even after you’d assured him you were fine, but you can tell he’s still unconvinced.

Unfortunately for you, all your wounds appear to be mental. They’re getting deeper by the second.

“I keep thinking,” you say to Bucky, “why was he so surprised I didn’t know where I was? Or who they were?”

“Hydra is our biggest rival,” Bucky says, and huffs a laugh at your crinkly brow so he clarifies, “They’re another gang, one we’ve had a lot of run-ins with. Rumlow especially. He wasn’t our biggest fan.”

“So he expected you to have told me about him, and Hydra,” you say, the name unfamiliar on your tongue. He nods, and you have to ask, “Why didn’t you?”

Bucky frowns at that. “I already told you - the more you know, the more dangerous it is.”

“And I already told you, no secrets,” you say, frowning just as deep. A beat passes and Bucky doesn’t budge, just glares down at you like he can physically bore his opinion into your brain and make it yours. Exasperated, you say, “Bucky, it didn’t matter anyway - the danger found me. Telling me things like that isn’t going to make a difference.”

“It would’ve if you’d listened to me and not done the stupid thing,” Bucky says, raising his eyebrows. He may have a point, but you aren’t going to back down that easily. Bucky knows you, he knows if you see a loose thread you’re going to pull it. The fact he thought you’d listen to him tell you what to do at all is laughable.

“This gang is your life,” you say, and you don’t bother to hide your frustration now, “They’re your family. I’m no safer not knowing what’s going on - I got stalked and kidnapped regardless. Clearly, it’s dangerous no matter what, so just tell me, Bucky. Whatever it is.”

Bucky stares at you for a long time. Steve, Natasha, Sam - they cease to exist in this room with you. Those first few weeks, when you refused to stay the night in Bucky’s bed and would only see him to fuck - you used to be scared of looking into those eyes for too long, for fear of getting lost. Now you dive head first, a part of you hoping you do get lost so you never have to find your way back out again.

Eventually, Bucky clenches his jaw tight and says, “You’re right.”

You blink, surprised. You hear Sam whisper to Steve, “did you record that?”, and honestly, you wanna ask the same thing. Except the way Bucky is look at you- dread curls thick and choking in your gut. You look up at Bucky and he seem so far away, out of reach even though you feel him all around you. He continues stroking your hair but it’s absentminded, his mind far away too.

You are drawn back to the tattoo shop by Sam saying, “I gotta say, Barnes, your girl is smart as hell. Keeping your phone on you and out-smarting Rumlow in a hostage situation? Pretty badass.”

Bucky smiles briefly down at you, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. You turn to Sam and say, “I got the impression out-smarting Rumlow isn’t really that hard.”

Everyone laughs at that, even Bucky, and it clears away some of the dread eating away at your stomach. But it’s still there, acidic and bubbling no matter what you do to smother it.

Eventually, they grow tired of talking in circles about Rumlow and Hydra and the possibility of the feds showing up (Bucky assures everyone the cops will find no rifling on the bullets and won’t be able to pin them to the crime scene, but Sam mutters heard that before and an argument erupts about some debacle in Bucharest so you tune out). Bucky takes you back to his apartment, tucked securely in his leather jacket in the best kind of shock blanket you could ever ask for.

For the first time, you noticed the tiny embroidered star on the sleeve of his jacket. You wonder if all Bucky’s friends have the same star on their jackets, because they’re not just friends, they’re a gang. One you feel suddenly, irrevocably intertwined with since they’re the only reason you aren’t sitting in a jail cell for murdering someone.

You feel jittery as you walk into Bucky’s apartment, almost nervous. It looks the same as this morning, the coffee cups you used for Steve and Bucky still in the sink and hoodie of his you’d worn last night draped over a chair. But everything is different, now. It’s all changed, there’s weird new shadows over everything long after Bucky turns on the light. You linger in the doorway to Bucky’s bedroom while he rummages around for sweats and jumpers, laying out a pair for you before he begins changing himself. He shucks off his t-shirt and you see his tattoo sleeve, the mottled scars hiding underneath, and your heart flies out of your throat before you can stop it.

“So do you guys have a fun, spooky name like Hydra or what?” you ask, closing your eyes with a grimace as soon as you ask the question. What are you, twelve? Bucky doesn’t answer and you’re too afraid to open your eyes too see the look on his face.

You’re startled when you feel him kiss your cheek, sensing his large frame towering over you and blocking out some of the soft bedroom light. You open your eyes to find him smiling down at you, laughing at you with his eyes as he says, “Not so spooky. Steve named us, he called us the Howling Commandos. The HC, for short.”

You crinkle your nose up at him and he flicks the tip with his ringed fingers. You say, “That’s very old-fashioned.”

“Nat teases him for it all the time,” he says, “She calls us her barbershop quartet.”

You smile, imagining Bucky in suspenders playing the accordion, and say, “Now that I like.”

The longer Bucky looks at you the more sober he becomes, mouth becoming pinched and jaw muscle ticking. He holds you soft by the biceps and walks you back until you hit the wall, still gentle, but bracketing you in now so all you can see is the weight of whatever complicated thing is running across Bucky’s face.

“You scared the fucking shit out of me today,” he says. He shifts, grips your jaw tight so his rings dig into your skin with none of the gentleness of before - he means this. “Never do that again.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, twisting in his tight grip to press a kiss to his fingertips. He softens, allows you to pull him in flush against you by his waist, his bare skin so warm under your hands. “And, thank you. I don’t- I guess I’ve never had someone come save me before, I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t thank me,” Bucky says, shaking his head. He kisses you, a rough press of chapped lips against yours and is gone again before you can react. Says, “I’m sorry, too.”

“Come back,” you say with a pout, and you have just enough time to see Bucky smirk down at you before he’s kissing you again. It’s just as fierce, almost painful, but the rough slide of it distracts from the burn in your chest and your racing thoughts like razorblades. You lick into his mouth, chasing away the ghosts nipping at your heels, and he presses you back into the wall with a thunk hard enough to leave a bruise on your tailbone tomorrow. You don’t care. It feels good to hurt in a way that’s physical.

The ease with which Bucky picks you up makes your head spin. It’s all you can do but pepper kisses along his stubbled jaw as he carries you to the bed, lips suddenly ripped from his skin as he dumps you on the covers. He is quick to follow, squashing you down with his tongue in your mouth before you can take another breath. This, you know. All the messy feelings and heartache and fearfearfear that beats in time with your heart, that maybe you’ll lose him or he’ll lose you and you came so close today, is unfamiliar to the both of you. But arching your back off the bed so he can take your shirt off, scrubbing your fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck as he peppers kisses across your tits with a trail of goosebumps left behind - this is how you know Bucky best.

He makes quick work of your clothes and you fumble with his jeans, laughing into his mouth as he bats your hand away to do it for you. Bucky bites your bottom lip in playful admonishment and you chase his mouth as he tries to pull away. He places one big palm on your clavicle and pushes down, holding you against the bed. He shakes his head at you with a smile.

“Stay,” he says like he would to a dog, grinning wide as you glare at him. But you do as you’re told as he leans over you to grab a condom with his left arm. Maybe you bend the rules a little to trail kisses up the bits of his outstretched forearm you can reach. Over a shadowy skull, the stem of a rose, what looks like military windings near the crook of his elbow and tiny handwritten letters that spell S N S. Sam Nat Steve, because Bucky might be a tough guy to most but he’s a giant sap deep down.

Bucky shudders at your touch, and it makes you wonder if the scarring under his tattoos is extra sensitive. Or maybe he is just sensitive to anyone touching him in such a vulnerable place. You flick your eyes up to watch him watch you, lip drawn between his teeth and a dent between his eyebrows you ache to soothe if he wasn’t still holding you down. You don’t stop, even though he looks physically pained with every brush of your lips against his skin. You trace the edges of another small wolf with your tongue, like the ones on his chestpiece, and watch as his eyes flutter closed when you get close to the paper-thin skin of his inner wrist.

That hits Bucky’s limit. Suddenly his hand on your chest slides up to your neck and he’s leaning over you, left arm braced by your head and his mouth swallowing yours. You groan against his lips at the rough drag of his hands down your sides, gripping your waist tight enough to bruise. He makes your brain go fuzzy, the only coherent thoughts being Bucky and touch me more. He seems to understand. His fingers find your clit, smoothing slow circles which spark embers in the pit of your stomach. Bucky’s mouth falls open as yours does, as if to breath in the whine he draws from you.

“Fuck, you always sound so good,” Bucky groans. He buries his face into the side of your neck, taking advantage of your thigh trapped between his legs to rut against you while he continues playing with your clit. Every time Bucky gets filthy with you it’s like the first time, shocking and almost embarrassing in the sexiest way possible. Heat floods your cheeks and makes you lightheaded, unable to stop the moan he draws from you. You’re rewarded by Bucky’s teeth in your neck, the sensitive spot just over your pulse point, and if you’re being honest you could come just from this.

Bucky’s cock growing harder against your thigh, as his hips shift in rhythm with the circles he draws on your clit, becomes too difficult to ignore. To gain his attention you twist and nip at the closest piece of skin you can find, Bucky’s ear, and he engulfs you in a kiss which steals the breath right out of you. You buck your hips, hoping to nonverbally convey the demand get in me right now, and Bucky doesn't need any more hints than that.

He fumbles with the condom for a second and you take the time to sit up on your elbows and look at him. Bucky is so beautiful, drawn in harsh lines and stark contrasts. Tan skin turned paler against the opaque black of his tattoos, colour swirling in-between and it should be jarring, but you think he just looks like art. Bitten red lips, startling blue eyes pinning you to the mattress as he catches you staring - such bright, primary colours because he is a statement piece, and one you could look at forever.

Bucky grins almost bashfully as you stare at him, leaning back over you to kiss you soft and sweet in a sharp juxtaposition to the rough tumble which got you here. Again, he sends your head spinning when the tender kiss is punctuated by the unexpected push of Bucky’s cock in your cunt. He bottoms out before you can blink, throwing your head back out of the kiss with an untamed groan - both pleasure and pain, in the good way. Bucky drags his teeth from your lips down your chin and neck, biting a mark into your collarbone to set the tone for the bruising pace he creates as he pounds into you.

He doesn’t do anything in halves, you think. You gaze up at him with an almost dopey smile while Bucky fucks the literal breath out of you. You lift your hips to meet him as he bottoms out with every thrust, watching in awe as his face creases up in ecstasy - it’s you who brings him there. He palms your tits like he can’t help himself, loses control in your pussy because you make him feel that good, and the thought makes you giddy. Drunk, almost, as you drag your nails down his chest and nearly come once again just from the moan you draw out of this brilliant, dangerous, gorgeous man.

“You take it so well, baby, fuck,” Bucky pants, eyebrows creasing as the pleasure gets almost painful in its build. You know the feeling. Bucky’s mouth is always your undoing, rolling your eyes back into your head and the sounds you’re making turning positively feral. He kisses you again, more a slam of mouths than anything finessed, and says, “Never gonna get over this, never gonna get over how good you feel.”

“Bucky, you gotta-“

“I gotta what, huh?” Bucky grins at the pleasure-addled panic he brings you too, not wanting to come too fast but also needing to let go before you actually explode. He knows exactly what he’s doing, balancing on one hand to thumb harshly at your clit as he says, “You want me to stop? I don’t think so, sweetheart, I think you wanna come on my cock just like this, wanna hear me tell you how good you are, how sweet you are for me all laid out like this-“

Everything whites out as you come, hard, all your muscles spasming like crazy with the orgasm that rips through you. Bucky’s voice is drowned out, but it doesn’t matter what he’s saying anymore, he’s made you feel like you’ll never catch your breath again. Bucky thunks his forehead against yours, collapsing on top of you as the fluttering clench of your cunt around his cock becomes too much. His thrusts turn sloppy, his breath hot and ragged across your face as you press lazy, barely-there kisses to his cheeks - all you can muster in your fucked-out haze.

Bucky comes with his eyes closed, eyelashes tangling with yours, and you cling to him with all four limbs as he shakes through his orgasm. The release was so needed for the both of you, the events of the last twenty-four hours frying your nerves to the point where it was either fight, cry, or fuck. It feels so good to have Bucky on top of you, inside you, all around you in every single sense and it warms your heart in a way you didn’t know was possible until now. Until Bucky.

Maybe that’s the afterglow talking, and you should stop. But you can’t help but press another kiss to Bucky’s cheek, and another, over his nose and across his still-closed eyelids until you reach his mouth and he can kiss you back just as soft. You hope he gets it. You hope he feels it too.

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

You go to see your dad, eventually. The chaos of yesterday kept you attached to Bucky’s hip - you showered together in the morning, and he allowed you to pretend it was just the water and not tears soaking your face. But he made you cuddle with him on the couch and fed you an omelette like you were incapable of feeding yourself, and maybe you were, because the reality of what happened in that shitty Manhattan bar was starting to eat away at your executive functions. It took all of your strength to convince Bucky you would be ok and that you’d come back to him as soon as you were done, but it was time to pull on a thread you’ve been ignoring for far too long.

It turns out, that paranoid over-questioning part of your brain doesn’t turn off even during a traumatic event. Your dad lets you in without a word, tugging you into a side hug as you both walk to the kitchen to make tea.

The house you grew up in has taken on a different light since the Lerna. The kitchen chairs aren’t the same, reminding you too much of ziptied wrists and a gun in your face. Why can you superimpose the memory of Rumlow holding you hostage to one you have of being eleven and tied to a chair by your father? You shouldn’t be able to do that.

He nudges your hip, jerking you out of your staring contest with the dining chairs, and offers you a mug of tea. You both sit at the table, either end, the fruit bowl a mediator between you. He looks tired, old, like he always has somehow in your memories from childhood. He’s still your dad, the same man who always been there because he’s all you’ve ever had. He loves you, you know does. Ya lyublyu tebya, luna. But he has always been the first to say your paranoid streak runs a mile deep, and once you find a thread-

Well. Everyone knows how that ends.

“Do you want to talk about it?” your dad asks, and it’s like he knows you aren’t here to ask for boy advice or moan about a case or your skyrocketing rent.

There’s a lot you want to talk about. Why did I learn to throw knives instead of joining the soccer team, like normal kids? Why did I learn how to survive an interrogation instead of going to sleepovers, like normal kids? Why did you train me to question everyone and everything in this world, but I’ve always blindly believed you? Like a normal kid would, you suppose, the only normal you’ve ever really gotten. Always believing your dad is the superhero of six-year-old dreams, someone who would never keep you in the dark.

“No,” you say, taking a sip of tea. It burns your tongue to numbness, but you can’t bring yourself to care. We had the secret language for only us - why did I never think you might have secrets from me as well? You grimace into your tea and say, “Not right now, I’m sorry.”

“Tayny budut presledovat tebya vechno, malysh,” he says. Secrets will haunt you forever, little one.

You don’t dare look up from your tea as you say, “Ya dumayu, ty by znal vse ob etom.” I guess you’d know all about that.

He gives you leftover curry in a carry bag when you leave. Kisses you on the cheek and lets you go, but you can feel him watching you the entire time it takes you to walk down the street and out of sight. As soon as you round the corner you retch into the nearest bush, a well-manicured rose which you silently apologise to as it gets covered in your bile.

This guilt isn’t something Bucky can save you from - it feels like it’s eating you alive. You had never, ever thought you would get to the point where you’d be leaving a bug stuck to the underside of your dad’s kitchen table, but you suppose you never thought you’d be stalked and kidnapped either. You wipe the your mouth with the back of your hand as your stomach finishes emptying itself of tea and betrayal, and try to tell yourself you won’t find anything, you're just being paranoid. But you know you will.

Maybe you always have, and that’s why you’ve been too scared to pull on the thread you’ve known has been dangling in the back of your mind since you were a kid. Just one secret you wanted to leave, one dark corner you didn’t want to shine a light into. That’s never been in your nature. You spit the foul, acidic taste from your mouth onto a poor, innocent rose bud and think with just as much bitterness as the bile coating your throat, that’s not who my dad raised me to be.

Part 7

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x reader fic #bucky barnes x reader fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fic #reader insert #reader insert fic #pov #pov fic #biker!bucky #biker!bucky fic #biker!bucky au #biker au #11 hours #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #brock rumlow

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lazyevaluationranch · 4 years

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Why is it called lazy evacuation ranch? Are you a computer scientist?

Er, it's not that scientific.

But yes, both the Blue Haired Girlfriend and I sometimes convert our skills in Swearing at Computers and Typing Excessive Punctuation into money to buy fencing wire with.

We both grew up on farms - her family raised sheep, mine ducks - and moved to big cities and took up Computer Cussing For Money. We met when I was attending a conference in Silicon Valley, thousands of miles away from the farms we’d grown up on. But there are strange things written on the mossy foundations of all our souls. I didn't understand the way to get home until I met the person with the other half of the map.

The blog name references:

"lazy evaluation" - a feature of some computer programming languages where they do all calculations at the last possible moment, and skip anything you tell them to do if it turns out to be irrelevant later

"lazy [whatever letter] ranch," - a ranch whose cattle brand is [whatever letter] sideways, as if it were laying down

Since that you've reminded me I am sometimes a Computer Swear Artist, I thought it would be fitting to convince an artificial intelligence to write some posts for this blog. I fed all this blog's text to the GPT-2 language model and asked it to generate some new posts that were similar to the existing ones.

Behold the Glorious Shining Future of chore blogging!

7/7/2020 Here are the Goats Man Was Not Meant To Know:

The goat-pond is completely covered in goat poop

When we cut the goat poop in half, it was a pile of goat poop.

When we cut open the goat poop out of a goat-smelting furnace, it was a pile of goat poop.

The chickens love goat poop. The sheep love goat poop.

In case you were wondering, the peacocks are completely unrelated.

Tagged: no tags suggested

9/2 Today the bees tried to devour my skirt. Bees tried to devour my skirt. The peacocks tried to devour a goat butt.

Tagged: daily, goat, hen

2/28 Today the sheep decided to get angry and started attacking the fence and tree branches. I admit I have gotten quite used to it, actually."

Tagged: daily, rainforest, sheep, poor sheep

NARRATIVE: A pair of small but mighty goat horns. And a bunch of mighty sheep horns, and a pair of giant sheep horns, and a duck butt butt butt butt butt. I dunno, that will be terrifying.

Tagged: daily, goat horn, cat, pigs, northern sky

7/20 The peacocks are getting smarter. They are eating all the lichen at random.

Tagged: daily, peacocks, lichen

2/31 Tesseract the Goat has been arrested for transporting more than two dozen kilograms of "delicious" mustard seed to the UN. This is a very serious crime.

Tagged: daily, blueberries, goat, blueberries

4/18 Goat drool is everywhere. And very clearly marked on every single thing in between posts: goat poop!

Tagged: daily, rain, duck

4/3 We are all doomed.

We will not be spared from your wrath.

Tagged: daily, soup nose, tesseract must have licked herself

And also, this line of immortal poetry from an AI-generated post that was too long to post in its entirety:

We just can't find a nice, dry place to be a hundred per cent homestuck-free this year.

I think the AI did an excellent job learning the essentials of this blog: animal poop, fence repair, goats getting into trouble in deeply implausible ways, general feelings of doom, and the inscrutable irruptions of Homestuck fans on any post about how peacocks go HONK.

I, for one, welcome our new robot overlords.

#Anonymous #ask #why is delicious in quotes #tesseract what did you do now

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impossible-rat-babies · 4 years

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@elmshore tagged me to talk about my fic our reflections!

gonna put this mostly below the cut bc it might get long + im ewbarressed 2 talk bout my fics bc often there is a lot of imagery behind them sdjfls

i’m gonna tag:

@bitchesofostwick, @trvelyans, @mournholdmushroom, @wayhavn, and anyone else who is a mutual who writes who wants to be just. jabber on about their fic i would love 2 hear it

the idea rumbling around in my head, if I’m remembering this correctly, came after the book three demo came out and there is the bounty on the detective’s head for their capture. this got me thinking about how “well it would make sense if the trappers actively went after the detective when they were alone, or otherwise indisposed.”

That got me rolling on the idea of what happened in the aftermath of such an incident. I wanted more the aftermath rather than the whole omg the detective is in danger haha they’re saved by their LI! I don’t find that as compelling or interesting personally compared to them saving themselves, but they’re injured or had to find a way out of the situation themselves. Or both--I’m not picky.

It was also a sort of fic born out of the desire to see where pollux and mason get on each others nerves/where their conflicts reside. I love fluff between couples, but I also love exploring the more difficult and organic parts of two people together. which this fic was a really great place to explore that between the two of them, mostly because pollux is antagonistic towards asking for help or letting himself be helped. he doesn’t need to be babied in this instance and he had everything under control. the fact that mason is upset over the fact that it actually happened and pollux didn’t tell anyone is irrelevant in pollux’s mind. he got out of it with his life and he can tend his wounds in peace--he doesn’t need help. thus, we have a nice little conflict.

but a bit of dialogue or action that got stuck in my head when i was first drafting it was:

“....fucking hopeless.” Mason grumbles to himself and Pollux bunches his fingers tightly in his shirt.

“If you’re gonna talk then shit say it to my face, Mason.” Pollux spits his name and he knows he’s playing chicken with a speeding car—sooner or later he’s going to get hit.

Mason turns on him, anger drawing his lips into a snarl and frustration tensing his shoulders,

(take one more step, I swear to god)

“I said...” He starts slow, meeting his grey eyes and there’s a vicious storm in that grey, “you’re fuckin’ hopeless, Pollux.”

“Good.”

we’re gonna ignore how pollux definitely would’ve decked mason if he had gotten much closer.

this part really stuck because in all my writings i’ve done with them, both published and unpublished, it’s often pollux who presents the conflict between them verbally. It’s more in his nature to have that confrontation compared to mason. but this is a flip on that, where mason is just so fed up with this sort of crap from pollux where he says something he doesn’t mean. it does sort of put a stop to the argument though, both of them sort of putting each other in their places. mason unintentionally saying an extremely hurtful statement to pollux, and pollux asserting both that yes mason you said that and yes i am hopeless glad you finally got the picture there chief.

moving on, I didn’t really write one of these scenes before all the others. I skipped past a majority of the main argument to get to the meat of that and then built everything up around it. I did skip to after the argument where pollux is in the bathroom alone too. fun fact: the ending is the least edited and most free flowing part of it because i got on a roll + i just didn’t want to edit it. is it less polished and more rushed feeling? maybe. but i did like a lot of the prose i put into the ending. (looking back it’s definitely sort of sparked my obsession with writing about hands and the minuscule movements of hands in fic. if i don’t spend a couple sentences of a character paying attention to hands then what sort of gay writer am I?)

the image in my mind when writing fics is often playing things out as a movie scene. it’s all constructed in my head, the environment, the placing of the characters in the space, their interactions. i pick out what seems the most relevant even if it seems rather mundane. blinds or curtains being open, the color a lamp sheds--if it’s more blue or yellow. (bluer whites always read more clinical or impersonal, where more yellow lights feel more homey and personal). or like the color of the tile. I love thinking about the color of bathroom tiles/the inherent cold touch of bathroom tiles. i also like thinking about bathrooms as much as i like thinking about vintage hotel rooms.

but in this fic I was really wanting to hit on the “this is the middle of the night when no one should really be awake unless you’re getting into trouble” but also “this is the middle of the night when people say things or get into arguments because the dark hides everything.”

also i dunno why i’m so stuck on only having one light source in a scene i write, it’s become a habit and i dunno why.

I didn’t really take inspo from another piece of media. i mean, it’s undoubtably got bits of tropes and such stuck into it, but such is writing. im not saying this is entirely original because it isn’t, i just can’t think of anything.

and like i said before, the book three demo with the trapper bounty really got me thinking. well that and the realistic part of what would happen if pollux got jumped by three or four trappers intent on kidnapping him.

me taking the idea of the detective possibly never having killed someone and tossing that shit out the window.

not that pollux is eager to kill people, or is fine with it. tensions just run high when you’re being attacked and slamming a person’s head into the bonnet of your car until they stop moving in a viable tactic for him. did the trapper live? i dunno, pollux certainly doesn’t.

i guess the cornerstone going around with this fic was stated above--the strained, realistic, not getting along parts of relationships between people. the subjecting these characters to a possible thing that could happen and seeing how they deal with it in their ways and the conflicts that brings.

but there’s also this chance to grow, to figure things out and avoid a repeat of the situation. it’s as much about the nitty gritty as it is the learning process of being with someone. like when mason explicitly asks/says in his own way for pollux to not do something like that again, whether thats fighting the trappers on his own, or refusing to be helped. or pollux not outright saying no, but rather saying he’ll try. it’s a step along the way towards making it work.

i know i write a lot about the rough and angsty parts of a relationship, but it’s also partially about the growth between characters. the realism of the bickering, the fights, the missteps along the way when you’re trying to make a partnership work. it’s the caring enough to make a mess, to not turn ones back on someone for being difficult.

i love writing gross--both angsty gross and fluffy grossly human stuff!

#me writing 1.2k of incoherent shit like Yes Me Give Me Nothing #me absolutely not giving a fuck at five am like!#owen writes #anyway im obsessed with bathrooms and hotel rooms and stinkin prose and the human condition #and i love writing about it!#okay to rebloog if you wanna #anyway mason and pollux are complicated it's okay

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pertinax--loculos · 3 years

Text

Update

Gonna try a new thing. I've seen these weekly updates from other writeblrs and it appeals to me because I can blather about writing or lack of writing (if it's been one of Those weeks), I can also include anything else I want, and it's a manageable goal to have for a start.

Tentatively breaking it up into writing, reading OR watching, real life (if applicable), and possibly excerpt (again, if applicable).

So! (Warning: This is long. I seriously babble like nothing else.)

Currently Writing Absent That Night (tagged: WIP: ATN)

wordcount: no clue, it's all on my phone and I've been writing scenes I'd previously written snippets for, so it's a mash-up. (Which reminds me I need to back it all up at least onto my computer.)

Proud of the short summary I did for my pinned post, so repeating it here:

Agent Latrell has been chasing the thief known as Nox for more than three years; but when bodies start turning up at his crime scenes, he’s the only one who believes Nox isn’t responsible. Unfortunately, he’s also the only other suspect. In order to clear his name, he’s going to have to find the real killer; and the only way to do that is to team up with a criminal who, it turns out, he knows absolutely nothing about.

still love love LOVING this WIP. I've got pages and pages of notes, and it is probably getting a wee bit too complex with subplots and suspects etc, but I'm an overwriter anyway so if I end up with a 200k word draft then shrug. More to work with

dunno if I mentioned or just thought it was obvious because I know it so well, but it has an enemies/rivals-to-allies(lovers?) (sub?)plot. So I've been pulling out a lot of threads there

technically I'm up to about halfway between the catalyst and break into two. Definitely not hardcore plotting but I do have an idea of the beats I wanna follow in the back of my head

Nox is still a fucking mess. I should probably stop piling trauma onto him, poor guy

my favourite creation this week is Mark Gault, who is a secondary/minor character who is amazing in every way. He is both essentially a ruthless mercenary and the "I LOVE MY WIFE" guy. (I also keep calling him Grant, instead of Mark, because he's actually the father of a character who first appears in Phase Two of CASCADE. (!!!))

basically happy with how it's all going this week. Regular writing is getting the juices flowing and it's easier to come up with ideas even when I've only got a vague notion of what is supposed to happen in the scene.

guys i am such an overwriter this is ridiculous please send help this scene was supposed to be like 2.5k total and it's turned into 4-5 scenes and is like 10k long dear god--

Currently Reading Blue Lily, Lily Blue by Maggie Stiefvater, book three of the Raven Cycle

I have not just jumped in at book three of a series, I have read the previous two.

in the last week.

I've read eleven books in the last five weeks, so that's... something.

they have all been thrillers except for this series. (And also Girl One, which despite being marketed as a thriller was definitively NOT a thriller. Which, yes, I should've guessed from the tag line, but I'm still mad about it.)

I am in love with the prose. It feels similar to mine, but Better, and I have been unconsciously mimicking it.

(which may be a problem when I finish it and am still writing ATN, but that is an issue for Future Pockets)

ngl I was not a fan of the way the first book ended. Not only did I have to reread the final line multiple times in order to even begin to grasp it, but I kinda think it's a dick move to end on a cliffhanger, even for an established author and clear indications this was gonna be a series

(but you bought the next book, didn't you? DIDN'T YOU??)

very very much enjoying the series, to be concise (ha!). Love the characters and it's all pretty tightly paced. The overarching series arc kiiinda maybe feels a bit slow/irrelevant, and some of the motivations annoy me, but I keep reminding myself it's YA in which the motivations are in character, so

not far into this one yet but so far so good

I wrote this earlier this week and since have begun thinking the series arc is becoming more relevant, but am reserving judgement. Reading slower with work and reading but still enjoying it all

Real Life

continues to be mostly a pain in the ass. Apps in for a second job, research on next year ongoing

update: may have the dream second job, basically waiting for confirmation (fingers crossed!)

one of my housemates is the literal devil, although even that is being quite kind to her. The nice one is moving out because of it. People keep asking how I've lived in this house for three years. I have no answer.

enjoying writing time in evenings and feeling mentally pretty good thanks to exercise

Excerpt Long, nearly 900 words, but a favourite of recent pieces and also something I coincidentally wrote today. Nox and Latrell's third meeting, when Latrell is still, uh... resistant to the idea of working with him:

"Why me?" Not at all the way Latrell had intended to phrase it, but he couldn't take it back. He continued, quickly, instead, jumbled thoughts pouring out of his mouth. "Surely that's the least you can give me. You come to me and ask me to fucking help you after you've made the last three months of my life living hell, you can at least fucking tell me why the fuck that is. You owe me that much. I'm not letting you fucking walk away until you fucking answer me that."

Nox was silent for a long moment. He ran a calculating gaze up and down Latrell, as if searching for something; it wasn't apparent whether or not he'd found it when he said, softly, "And if I don't?"

Latrell was abruptly very aware of the weight of the handcuffs in his back pocket. He would have to move quickly. There was every possibility Nox would see this coming, especially if he'd been arrested before. But Latrell was quietly confident. He inched his hand back, keeping it subtle, eyes on Nox's face.

"In that case," he said, as evenly as he could. His fingertips brushed warm metal. "Perhaps we should try something--"

Everything went white.

For a moment Latrell thought he'd somehow lost consciousness; that he'd underestimated Nox's affinity for violence, that the man had punched him or otherwise managed to incapacitate him without otherwise moving. Then it occurred to him that he was still thinking, which essentially took unconsciousness off the table, and he realised, vaguely, that it was an illusion.

It was very, very convincing.

The entire world was an endless expanse of emptiness. Utterly, absolutely white, a whiteness that could not and should not exist. Latrell was overcome by a sensation of falling, of plummeting into nothingness; he had to concentrate to feel his feet still on the ground, to know he was still upright. He had nothing to orient himself. There was no up, no down, no left or right. Just that endless expanse of a lack of colour. He was hanging in nothingness, or everything.

"You forget who you are dealing with, Agent."

Latrell swallowed down nausea. Nox's voice came from startlingly close, the sound of it somehow wrong, which objectively he knew came from the fact that his brain was convinced it should sound small and insubstantial in this endless void but it sounded normal because he was actually still standing in the alley. It was academic knowledge only. He still felt like he was tipping or falling or rising, weightless and disoriented. He had no voice, no ability to open his mouth.

Experimentally he tried to take a step. He couldn't lift his foot off the ground. Physically, he was sure he could -- he could still twitch his fingers, if he thought about it -- but his mind was convinced that there was nothing to step away from, nothing to step onto. Just nothing, nothing, nothing. A brightness that wasn't a light, a void constructed of the pieces between atoms.

Nox's voice came from his other side this time. "I have attempted to do this civilly, but there are other options."

It was a struggle to concentrate on his words, close as they were. Latrell tried to narrow his focus to only sound, tried to ignore the nothingness he was suspended in, tried to tell himself it was all an illusion. Just something Nox wanted him to see. The Orn, threaded through his eyes or brain or soul, acting upon Nox's orders.

It didn't help. He was still in freefall.

"Do not," Nox's voice came, a bare whisper in his ear, breath brushing Latrell's neck, "Presume to test me."

Abruptly the white disappeared. Latrell was back in the alley, trying to adjust to the change of light, trying to find where Nox had gone. Turning his head made the ground roil beneath him and he staggered, utterly disoriented.

Fingers closed around his forearm, steadying him, and Latrell looked up to find Nox inches away.

"Easy, Agent," he purred. His smile was more a baring of his teeth.

Latrell wrenched away from him, staggering until his back connected with a comfortingly solid wall. He was dizzy, brain still adjusting to reality, but he managed to straighten his spine and set his shoulders. He kept his hands in front of him. In Nox's view.

"Do we have an understanding?" Nox said, still silky and low.

"Screw you," Latrell said, voice faint and alien.

Nox's smirk sharpened. "I thought so. Lovely chat, Agent Latrell." He sauntered past where Latrell stayed pressed against the wall, hesitated at the corner of the alley. "Keep up the good work."

He stepped forward and disappeared from view.

Latrell's breath left him in a rush and he doubled over, bracing himself on his knees. His head still spun, the unpleasant sensation he'd come to expect from vertigo. The backs of his eyelids were painted with a stark blank white. Every time he blinked he was engulfed.

It was far beyond any illusion he'd ever experienced. It was approaching the type he'd only ever read about in scientific articles.

You forget who you are dealing with, Agent.

Perhaps he had. But this assault supplied more than a reminder.

It also provided a piece of the puzzle.

#we'll go with #weekly update #WIP: ATN #excerpt #pockets muses IRL #god you can't tell i'm an overwriter at all can you #somebody please shut me up #>.<

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anothersillyfanblog · 4 years

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Earth On Hell

This is my Sanders Sides gift for @marsupials-of-mars for @sanderssidesgiftxchange!!! Basically all the sides are demons, hanging out in hell, but one of them (wonder who) is a teeny bit more chaotic than the others. (P.s I am gonna post on ao3 in a few days as well btw.) Btw I’m not great at tags so mega apologies if it still slipped through sorry.

Hell.

Lunch breaks round here weren’t boring- there was plenty to see and do in hell- it had just kind of reached a point for Janus where most of it had already been done. Hence why, no matter what his colleagues in the eighth circle said, there was something interesting about sitting down with this chatty little demon and watching the human flesh blister.

“Y’know what I think?” the younger demon, Remus, casually asked. Janus sighed. “I try not to.” “I think that everyone who ends up here is dumb.” He tossed a rat into his mouth “All you gotta do is act nice and suck up to the big daddy in the clouds- that’s it! Easier than boiling babies!” “No,” Janus raised his eyebrows. “Because it’s based on the nature of your soul not what you do.”

“Well that ain’t fair! What if you can’t HELP dreaming of torture and carving hearts into carcases (or whatever these idiots got in here for), like it’s in your pretty little head from day uno?” He wagged his finger at Janus. “They could never do anything wrong in their entire life but get sent here for naughty thinking… seems a lil shitty to me.” “Well apparently they can ‘repent their sins and get eternal salvation’.” Janus revelled in the other guys’ confusion for a moment. “Say sorry a lot and it’ll be ok.” “Ohhhhhhhhhhh right. Oh yeah ok.” Remus nodded. “Seems a bit suspicious, are you sure that’s a thing?”

A couple of screams got louder, and Janus turned to see a scrawny horned demon carrying a bucket and biting his lip. He had his arms comically wrapped all the way round it- an ugly neon yellow bucket with a ‘warning’ label (because hell needs health and safety standards)- and he was edging towards a nearby cliff.

“Hey Virge!” Remus called out “What’cha doin?” “I…” the horned demon tipped the bucket over the precipice as the screams intensified “…am adding a couple… of new souls… to the… whirlwind.” “Come get lunch, Virgil! It’s rat day!” he grinned, holding up a rodent “Also didn’t Pat tell you to do that like, a week ago?” “Yes but I’m also a dumb bitch.” Virgil sat down next to Remus. “Who’s this?” he glanced awkwardly at Janus. “I-” “HE’S my friend from the EIGHTH FUCKING CIRCLE!!!” Remus interrupted. “That not being the eighth circle of fucking, though it might well be…” “It’s not.” Janus clarified. “Yeah, I didn’t think it was.” Virgil smiled “I’m Virgil. I work with him under Patton? Second circle so-to-speak.” “Oh yeah I know the guy.”

Patton was the overseer for a lot of things in the lower levels. Not really a specific tier, or a specific expertise, but if you spent any time in one-five then you at least saw him. Most people ‘above’ him were aware of him in a general sense. Janus had met him twice? Three times? Yeah, if you counted bumping shoulders at the river Styx that one time, then it was three.

It made sense that Remus and Virgil worked for Patton- a lot of the younger demons did these days.

“UGH doesn’t everyone?” Remus whined “He is annoying!” “He’s your boss.” Janus observed. “Yes, and he’s annoying! I say we, I dunno, set fire to his ass or something…” Virgil shrunk into his seat “He’s our boss? Also he isn’t in charge of everyone, he has a boss right…” “Yeah, but uh…” Remus clicked his fingers “We were saying weren’t we?” he looked at Janus. “No. Whatever you think we were saying, we weren’t.” “People shouldn’t get here for wanting to do crimes!” he clapped his hands “I think we should break everyone out of hell.”

One week later: Hell

Work hours, naturally. Janus was trying to process new souls but honestly there was no signal and his tablet just wasn’t working.

“And they say eighth circle is an enviable job…” he tapped the screen “I- I’ll be with you in a moment, sorry about this.” He said to the guy in line to be thrown into the pit. “No, no, take your time.”

Finally, the sound of footsteps approaching! Janus looked up and smiled. “Ah, the tech guy! Yeah, there’s no service on this, so if you could-”

“Where’s Remus?” Janus smiled a little “Excuse me?” “Which circle can Remus be found in?” the tech guy kept his face stern (if he was the tech guy) “I know you know him.” “I’m working right now, or trying to, so come back when I’m not and then we can talk.”

The tech guy ripped the tablet out of Janus’ hands.

“Where can Remus be found?” “He isn’t an important demon-” “Lower tiers…” “Not what I mean, I meant you shouldn’t need him.” “But I do.” “Why?” “Irrelevant, just tell me where he is located.” “Well forgive me for thinking you’re going to hurt him, but I think you’re- you know- going to hurt him.” “Falseh- it’s inconsequential, I must find him.” Janus paused. “Fix my tablet, please. I believe you.”

The tech guy looked momentarily confused before realising what Janus meant and doing so. “Second circle, every time I’ve seen him.” Janus said “Is… is he in trouble?”

“Not with me, negative. I do not have the influence to get many people into trouble. As for the future…” he sighed “I would advise you to keep your distance from him, though that’s my observation.” He left off towards the exit of the tier.

Janus grimaced, looking at his now-working tablet.

“If it’s any consolation, it probably won’t affect you.” The guy in line said, making Janus jump in surprise. “Shit! I need to get all you processed, I am gonna get in trouble.” He smiled at the guy who now frowned. “Okay name and age at time of death…”

One month later: Hell

“Where’s-” “Remus?” Patton interrupted. “we’re dealing with it.” Janus chuckled “Will anyone down here actually let me finish a sentence?” “Of course, my apologies- what were you going to say?” “Where is Virgil?” he smirked. “He works in your general bracket, right?”

Patton breathed in sharply. No one had seen Virgil since Remus had started (conveniently) quietening down, and Janus knew it. Everybody knew it. His work tallies were still placed in- by who, nobody knew- but the second circle was widely lacking in Virgil.

“He’s doing some work on…” Patton’s eyes darted round rapidly “admin. He’s working on potential field experience up there, needs to put in the admin first.”

Janus raised his eyebrows, looking up towards the Earth. “The thing is, Pat, I’m Eighth circle. I specialize in fraud- you know what that is?” Patton nodded. “Deceit, Patton, lies. And every day suave fuckers queue up trying to tell me why I have ‘the wrong circle’ or why ‘they should get special treatment’ and guess what, Patton? It’s always bullshit.”

He stared straight at the other demon. “I have been doing this for too damn long to not have the fucking right to tear the throat of anyone, ANYONE, who dares to be as lousy as you at lying to me. So don’t ever tell me that Virgil is doing admin, FUCKING ADMIN, because no one here will believe- or miss- you.” He sighed. “Let’s start again. Where’s Virgil?”

Patton swallowed “I…”

“Do you not know?” Janus asked, “This will go a lot better for you if you just admit that you don’t know.” Patton shook his head “Not exactly, no.” he whispered, “We’re not sure where he is.” “Not sure or don’t know?” “We know he’s in hell… we know that, we’re aware of him but not where.” Janus pinched his forehead “Okay so out of all the nine circles of hell, you have no clue, none. Lovely.” “If Remus would co-operate…” Patton muttered. “If I would what now?”

Ah yes, Remus. Walking cheerily towards them, smile slightly wider than ever, living his best life. Of course it was most likely that he had been questioned on Virgil’s whereabouts, given their activities during the past month-or-so, but Remus had decided to ‘calm down’ now and had ‘no idea about anything that anyone was doing’. Or so he had said to Janus.

“Patton! You already know I told ya everything about Virge, didn’t I?” he grinned. “Of course, don’t doubt it.” Patton said, as if he were lecturing a child. “And you got all your silly little friends to stand down which was very good of you.” Remus clapped his hands. “Yes! I did that!” “BUT!” Patton wagged his finger “I think you may have forgotten places that Virgil could be- or things you knew about Virgil.” Remus gasped in shock “Oh no!” “We want to find him, you want to find him. Let’s do this together please.” Patton nodded towards Janus. “Isn’t that right?” “Huh?” Janus smirked “Oh yes, working together. Of course.” Patton smiled again, then turned to leave.

Remus groaned “Ugh, what an annoying piece of poop! Wanna feed him to a pack of rampaging squirrels!” “Where’s Virgil?” “Up your butt!” Remus laughed, “Just kidding, don’t check, I have no idea.” Janus nearly prayed out of sheer frustration. “Don’t fucking lie to me, Remus, unholy shit.” “Okay, okay!” he giggled. “So I might know… but I can’t tell you.” “Why?” Janus asked, confused, “You think I’m going to run to Patton?” Remus looked down “Well, Logan says you shouldn’t be involved in-”

“You’re still working with Logan? You said you’d told them to stand down…” Remus chuckled “You believe that?” “Well, no,” Janus admitted, “But I…what the fuck are you planning?” “Eh, just a little bit of trouble…” “What you did already was a ‘little bit of trouble’- hell, it got your supervisors’ attention, so actually it was kinda a bit more than that.” Janus explained. “I made a group?” “A militia.” Remus threw his arms up “Well, we barely did anything! Pat WAY overreacted!” “Not… if you’re actually planning something he didn’t.” “So you are on his side?”

“I…” Janus looked away. “I don’t want this going south. For you, Virge, us. That’s the bargain you make when you leave heaven, to look out for you and yours. Get what is considered ‘best’ down here.” “But what if what is ‘mine’ is…” Remus looked wistfully at the hurricane of souls swirling around them “Never mind. See you around!”

He made his way off towards the offices where he worked, leaving Janus listening to the winds scream for mercy.

One year later: Hell

“Here.” Janus held out a bucket of blood that spat angrily at both of the demons, “from management.” Roman didn’t look up. “Chuck it in, before they get too comfortable.”

Janus peered down at the bubbling lake, almost glad to see that some parts of hell hadn’t changed that much. He poured the new blood in and watched the souls writhe- no hope of Remus for this lot. Though somehow, in some corners, they screamed out his name. How? Patton had nearly torn his horns off the first time he’d heard it, because how? How could they know about him? And that was the problem when the fresh blood was added and the screaming began anew.

What they screamed for.

Roman rolled his eyes “I’ve never wanted them to stop more…” Janus scoffed “You should see Patton, he has lost it.” “How so?” “Apparently,” he began, “He’s been inventing and subjecting harsher tortures for any souls who mention his name- or the others.” Roman chuckled at this “Well! Woe betide any gossip outlet, then…” “He’s getting them shut down, I think.” Roman gasped “His higher-ups can’t approve of that- right?”

Janus raised his eyebrows “His higher-? Roman, after the whole, well, you know… after Remus did all that, his only higher ups were a couple of folks in what used to be ninth circle.” He looked to the lake of blood. “Now? I don’t think some of them would even challenge him…”

“Oh.” Roman smiled. “How long’s that going to last?” “What?” “Patton- in charge? Until things are figured out, right?”

At this Janus started to laugh. He kept laughing and laughing till Roman joined in then realised it just wasn’t funny because it never had been.

“Forever.” He scowled. “He’s going to stabilize and reorganize the layers he has, take back the ones he doesn’t, put the souls back into torment, then execute the demons. All of them. Remus, Virgil, Logan, Remy, ALL OF THEM WILL DIE. Painfully. And then! He will rule over hell forever.”

“That’s a bit cynical.” “Well EXCUSE ME-” “No, I just thought- being an ex-friend of Remus- you might’ve been more cheerful.” Janus bit his lip. “We weren’t friends because we were even remotely similar. We were friends because I was bored, work was boring.” “Okay, makes sense!” Roman smiled. “So we’re all gonna end up working under Patton (if we aren’t already) and it’s gonna be aaaahhh ooohh not good very bad?” “Little bit more than that, but yes.” “Ah so more painfully terrible every moment we’re awake?” “Yeah.” “Hm… why not leave?” Roman casually asked. You know, casually.

Janus scoffed “Because of the whole dying thing?” he gestured wildly “I can’t go off on my own; I don’t stand a chance, I can’t repent; you have to mean that shit, and I can’t go with Remus and his crew because- because…” he looked down “I’m sorry Roman but the reason I never got too involved in the first place is because what he plans just isn’t going to work. He can’t win- he’ll die, and if I get involved then I will too and the point of all of this,” he spread his arms round “Is so you can look out for yourself, so you don’t have to be selfless and give up everything for someone else. Why do I have to be ashamed for not wanting to be a martyr?”

“I… you don’t.” “Exactly” Janus snapped. “If you truly believe that this is what’s better,” Roman added. Janus whistled “No, that’s…” he shook his head “Anyway. Whatever happens, they can’t be faulted for trying.” “No, absolutely not! Wait we are talking Remus and-” “Of course I’m talking about Remus’ lot.” Roman nodded “Ah, well yes- I agree. They’ve done a surprisingly competent job, all of them.”

They both paused for a moment. “It’s because they have the tech guy.” “It’s coz of the tech guy.” Roman agreed “I mean it’s not like the rest of his crew can’t organize things, but…” “It’s the tech guy.” Janus concluded “I hear he orchestrated the ‘Virgil plot’.” “Exactly!” Roman exclaimed “and that was wow, just impressive as anything (if you don’t mind me saying), like- hiding Virgil for that long to steal that many souls? If they don’t win it’ll be a little depressing.” “It’ll be more than that.” Janus smiled solemnly.

“It’ll be the end of life as we know it.”

Ten Years Later: Italy.

“Virge!” Janus could hear someone calling outside of the cavern “can you get that thick ass over here, please?” That ‘someone’ was probably Remus. “Janus, that includes you too!” “How does ‘Virge’ include me?” he called back. “Don’t question the king of crimes!”

Reluctantly, Janus stood up and wandered out to the frosty mountainside. He grimaced- the cold bits of hell had never been his favourite, even when they flaunted ‘coveted positions’ and such. Still.

“You want a coffee?” Remy asked. “Please.” He gestured over to a nearby hut “The coffee machine is right there, honey.” “But I never get the ratio right…” Janus pleaded. Remy chuckled and sipped his drink “Girl, that just ain’t my problem!”

“Janus!” Remus grabbed his arm suddenly and yanked him away “You sexy motherfucker, I called you an AGE ago! Now come on!” “Right, what do you need?” “Emotional stability…” Remus placed his hand on his chest “Just kidding! So basically, the waterpump’s broken (but Logan’s “dealing with that”), we received word that Patton has guns now- so we need better defences just in case- and also Patton has guns so yeah. Can we have those please?” Janus’ eyes widened. “Ok so is Patton-with-a-gun confirmed, or a rumour? Because hell basically never deploys projectiles.” “Are you sure I can’t be used as a projectile?” Remus half-spoke aloud “Yeet me at them.” “You’re getting distracted.” “Oh. Yes, it’s confirmed. One billion percent.” Janus pinched his forehead “Well, somehow I doubt that statistic, but okay. Let’s work on anti-gun strategy, defence, etc. because it is possible they’ll get hold of unholy projectiles specifically for us.” “Why can’t we get guns?” “Maybe one day, but if you actually think I trust you with a GUN-” “Fair point”

“Um, I was called?” Virgil was stood in the snow, watching them talk. They both jumped. “Yeah like, FIFTY YEARS AGO!” Remus cried. “Oh I’M sorry, look I did show up- it’s just I didn’t want to interrupt…” he trailed off. Janus smiled. “That’s understandable.” “That’s understandable.” Remus mimicked “Ooh, whatever, we were just chatting! No rules on chatting! Also what are your thoughts on guns?” “I think we should focus on hiding for now…” “BORING! Guns?” “Let him speak” Janus warned. Virgil looked down “I mean, our last skirmish went well, and we are getting more to join… but right now I think we should focus on what we have. And that advantage is mystery. Let’s keep it.” “Ooh mystery! Spooky!” Remus wiggled his arms. “No, I get what you mean.” Janus nodded “Like how you got so many in the beginning because they were intrigued, people will talk if we stay off the map for a while.” Remus tutted “Oh, you. Being sensible.” He frowned “We’ve been lucky, haven’t we? To live?” Janus smiled “Like this? Absolutely.” “Yeah, we should go under. Be sneaky! Recruit people who aren’t dicks and so on.”

Logan agreed with the idea for once, which was probably because it was Virgil’s, but also he stated: “We have already been living ‘both figuratively and literally underground’ so it makes an appropriate amount of sense to make this an officially secret place of dwelling.”

He also agreed with Janus’ gun-plan. This, of course, being that they focus on defence and perhaps work on getting weapons of their own in the future. Though he was a little heavier on the “no gun-wielding-Remus” stance, stating: “On no condition can he be allowed a gun, none. Others in our company- fine. I will trust from the upper-most generals to the smallest child amongst us with a projectile, but never Remus. Oh and can we consider adding Remy to that list?”

Janus didn’t bother to question the part about trusting children with guns, he simply nodded and got to work on defence, sometimes smiling at Remus as he did.

And it didn’t matter what anyone was or wasn’t doing, Remus always grinned away.

One Century Later

11 notes · View notes

punkscowardschampions · 3 years

Text

Amber & Cosmo

Amber: [Okay so my vibe is that she leaves the necklace for him after they’ve done the shopping trip like here’s an old sentimental thing to say thanks for helping me get a new thing and after she’s used Dash’s room to study like also thanks for that, but we’re leaving the envelope under his door/propped against it because he very much didn’t want her to go in his room again lol so he can find it when he gets back from his dad’s]

Cosmo: Does a token mean the ghost likes me?

Amber: I guess you must have managed not to anger the spirits for a while

Amber: impressive

Cosmo: My room also remains intact so, must be true

Amber: I won’t tease you by pretending there are things missing, that’d be too 👶🏽

Cosmo: I don’t have as much shit as he does, I’d notice before I worked out who this necklace is really from

Cosmo: If only there was some subtle hint, like

Amber: If only someone had filled the envelope with ⭐️ to the point it was difficult to close

Cosmo: Your dad is gonna think someone’s been really good

Amber: He knows you have, giving me somewhere quiet to study, though he’d take them all back if I’d told him about 👗 shopping

Cosmo: I’m glad to hear you enjoyed the quiet

Cosmo: and people donate things with tags on all the time, he won’t find out, yeah

Cosmo: You could keep it here but the undeniable ego boost he’d get from thinking he can’t even remember the girl who left it is not happening on my watch

Amber: You really do spend time in a better postcode if you think anyone’s gonna believe a dress like that was donated, it’s the nicest thing I’ve ever owned

Amber: while I own it anyway, it won’t be long before it gets borrowed… but you’re right, that inevitable 💔 for me is better than the maybe of having to overhear to him brag

Cosmo: It’s a good dress

Cosmo: I definitely weren’t saying it wasn’t

Cosmo: You legit have to share everything?

Amber: I know it is, you’d have made a face if I looked stupid

Amber: You put something down, it gets picked up by whoever wants it, there’s nowhere to hide anything

Cosmo: Put it in your school bag

Cosmo: Sounds weird but I bet no one is looking in there for anything

Amber: Less people are wise to that as somewhere to rummage through, it’s definitely worth a try

Cosmo: Now you’ve got no stash, anyway, right

Cosmo: When’d you leave here?

Amber: When did you get back? I tried to time it to just before

Cosmo: You must’ve done a good job

Cosmo: Maybe an hour but I’ve only just come upstairs, I had to talk to my ma first

Amber: I had to finish reading a chapter I’ll need for tomorrow and it wasn’t going in, but I couldn’t let myself be discovered this soon, not by anyone but you

Amber: how was the rest of your weekend?

Cosmo: Your secret is safe with me 👻 girl

Cosmo: We won our Sunday match, so that was good

Cosmo: then we had sunday lunch with my dad’s new girlfriend and her family, that was alright too

Amber: 😁 CONGRATULATIONS!

Amber: did you play 4-2-3-1?

Cosmo: Was that the chapter you were reading up on?

Cosmo: Otherwise, impressive

Amber: But did you? Because according to my research it’s ⭐️

Amber: A LOT of the tactics and why they apparently revolutionized football went over my head, but I remember that formation is really popular because it’s flexible and balances the defensive and attacking aspects

Cosmo: You should talk to our manager

Cosmo: because we didn’t

Cosmo: you really do like learning new things

Amber: Are you unbanning me from matches or practice?

Cosmo: I can’t say I’m just unbanning you from the changing room can I

Amber: maybe check with the rest of the team first

Cosmo: 😂

Cosmo: I didn’t ban you, anyway

Cosmo: I didn’t know you were genuinely interested

Amber: in anything other than how you all look in shorts, you mean

Amber: which part of my first impression made you think I was starved of male attention? Because I’d like to strike it from the record

Cosmo: It was the opposite, if we wanna be honest

Amber: We always wanna be honest

Cosmo: Sometimes there’s no need

Amber: If you didn’t have fun at lunch with your dad’s new girlfriend, that’s a kind lie, but this wouldn’t be

Cosmo: It’s not kind to offer up my opinion when it don’t matter

Amber: it matters enough to you to have formed one

Cosmo: What, you don’t have any opinions on me?

Cosmo: It’s what people do, you can’t help it

Amber: Not about your sex life, because it’s none of my buisiness, and mine wouldn’t be yours if Dash hadn’t gotten you involved in it

Cosmo: Well exactly, you can only base it on what you know

Amber: and you know I slept with your brother once, it isn’t enough to base anything on, because you also know he lied to me

Cosmo: Honestly, forget about it, I shouldn’t have said anything

Amber: All that’s gonna achieve is you carry on thinking the same

Cosmo: It doesn’t matter, you have nothing to prove

Amber: no, I don’t

Cosmo: Sorry

Amber: I can tell you are, it’s okay

Cosmo: I’m not like that

Amber: that’s obvious too, I don’t need crystals or cards to read people

Cosmo: I don’t care or judge you, it’s just what I thought

Cosmo: it wasn’t 👎 or 👍

Amber: Because of the reputation your brother and the commune has or because of me?

Cosmo: I guess it’s mostly because of him

Amber: if I’d met you first you could’ve warned me and neither of us would have to feel like this

Cosmo: I wouldn’t have done that

Cosmo: realistically

Cosmo: you look like his type, even if you actually aren’t

Amber: He obviously thought I was too

Cosmo: I mean the last thing I want is a lecture on polyamory or whatever

Cosmo: and equally the last thing that type appreciates is the warning so

Amber: I’d be the last girl to give you one, my parents’ failed attempts at it are the main reason we move

Cosmo: That’s shit

Cosmo: Whatever your parents love life looks like, shouldn’t affect your life at all

Amber: it’s not a deliberate act of sabotage on their part though, and when I was younger travelling had more upsides than downs, I didn’t really prioritize school and I still don’t know what I wanna do when it’s over anyway

Cosmo: It’s still wrong, whether they meant it or not is irrelevant

Cosmo: Where’d you get the necklace?

Amber: You can't get your wallet out again and offer to buy me another this time, boy

Amber: besides, I want you to have it for what it represents now, not what it used to

Cosmo: Thanks, I appreciate it

Cosmo: I should’ve got you something more than ☕️🥐

Amber: You’ve given me a room of your house

Amber: and secrets, I never get to have those

Cosmo: It’s not any trouble to me

Cosmo: and I’d take anyone over him so

Amber: Oh thanks 😂

Amber: after I’d set you up with the perfect opportunity to give me a compliment…

Cosmo: Can’t catch me out that easy, like

Cosmo: Try harder

Amber: You’re gonna regret saying that

Cosmo: 😏

Cosmo: You ain’t scary and I ain’t, remember

Amber: That’s for your manager to decide when we’ve talked tactics, maybe he’ll think I’m really intimidating

Cosmo: Maybe I’d pay to 👂 & 👀 that

Amber: I won’t ban you from the changing room while it’s happening, don’t worry

Cosmo: I reckon everyone’s thankful for that

Amber: that many pairs of 👂 and 👀 would probably be intimidating for a girl who didn’t live with what feels like 100s

Cosmo: I dunno how you put up with it

Amber: I’ve never lived different

Cosmo: I know

Cosmo: but you can still be annoyed by it

Cosmo: I’ve always had a brother and I still know he’s a dick

Amber: You don’t think I’ve vented to you enough about what annoys me?

Cosmo: You said that one, let the record show

Amber: Because you’re too well mannered to go there

Cosmo: Steady on

Cosmo: Just ‘cos you want a compliment of your own

Amber: so give me one

Amber: 🥺!

Cosmo: Don’t pout at me

Amber: [a pouty selfie ofc]

Cosmo: Dirty tactics

Amber: that's why they didn't work on you

Amber: you like good clean fun

Cosmo: Maybe

Cosmo: not giving a 👍 or 👎

Amber: Unless we're talking about the offside rule, I think I can cope without any tips

Amber: there wasn't a need for a ? now that I've gained a good understanding of what you like

Cosmo: Good’s pushing it

Cosmo: the offside rule you’ll have more luck with

Amber: pushing it if you've stretched the truth when we talked about what you're into, sure

Cosmo: As many questions as you ask, you reckon we’ve covered it all? 🤔

Amber: Because you want me to be wrong for the sake of it or because I really am and there's more you want me to know…

Amber: why are you suggesting we haven't covered it?

Cosmo: I’m suggesting we don’t know each other

Cosmo: not that we need to or have more to cover, like

Amber: You know too much to suggest you don't

Cosmo: Alright, James Bond

Cosmo: I don’t know anything THAT criminal

Amber: I don't do anything that criminal

Cosmo: Now it sounds like you definitely do

Amber: 😂 too bad for you that you don't wanna find out either way

Cosmo: 😏 gutting, yeah

Amber: It would be if you didn't have a head too full of ⚽️ to think about me

Cosmo: You’ll never get one of my mates with that attitude

Amber: I don’t need an in with them, I’ve got one with the manager

Cosmo: An in to…

Cosmo: free 🍊?

Amber: 🎫!

Cosmo: You can come, I’ll get you in

Amber: Your dad though

Cosmo: He can’t come next friendly

Cosmo: plus you’ve got no in with him, there’s not a box

Amber: it’d honestly be hard to concentrate surrounded by 🥂🤵🍾

Cosmo: It’s not the premier league, it’s not that fancy, I swear

Amber: thank god, I’d like to be invited back some other time

Cosmo: That sounds so sarcastic but I’m pretty sure you mean it 😅

Amber: See, I told you, you know me

Cosmo: Maybe my head isn’t all ⚽️

Amber: shh no, I’ll be back on a ban

Cosmo: Only if you piss of your manager friend

Amber: ruining the focus of his ⭐ player would

Cosmo: Alright, I’ll compliment you now

Cosmo: just to get you to stop, obviously

Cosmo: Talking to you hasn’t been awful

Amber: That isn't gonna be enough to stop me, but thanks

Cosmo: I might have to pout in a minute then

Amber: Don't even try it, you've maybe got me beat in any race but that's a contest I know I can win

Cosmo: Just say you don’t wanna see my face

Amber: I barely tried to get you to not try, admit you're a bad loser and you'll cry when I take 🥇

Cosmo: Is reverse-psychology hippie approved?

Cosmo: Seems a bit passive-aggressive to me

Amber: You thinking I'm a ⭐ hippie would mean I have to change my mind about how well you know me

Cosmo: I don’t

Cosmo: and that’s a free accidental compliment for you

Amber: it’s really sweet of you

Amber: [an adorably happy selfie]

Cosmo: Be a gracious winner, will you

Amber: after your 🥺📷 before it’d feel hollow

Cosmo: I can’t compete with that

Amber: because your competitiveness disappears off the pitch?

Cosmo: Not that

Amber: camera shy?

Cosmo: Come on

Amber: compliment shy then

Cosmo: I’m not shy

Cosmo: You know what you look like

Amber: But you can compete with me

Cosmo: Maybe it’s reward enough

Amber: or it’s been too long since anyone told you what you look like

Cosmo: You think I’m starved of female attention?

Cosmo: Interesting

Amber: the right kind, maybe

Cosmo: Maybe

Cosmo: the ‘wrong’ kind gas you up just as much

Amber: it doesn’t feel the same though

Cosmo: true

Amber: When’s the friendly?

Cosmo: [a weekday moment, I think they’re midweek vibes usually, thus making sense why your dad could be busy]

Amber: 😁 I’ll be there!

Cosmo: Me too

Cosmo: Once more and it’ll be a habit

Amber: it won’t cost you anything that time, not sure it even counts

Cosmo: So you’re saying we can have one more time

Amber: I am

Cosmo: Swimming?

Cosmo: It’s the other thing on your list

Amber: it’s something we have in common, a like, because I don’t know how you feel about dancing

Cosmo: I can

Cosmo: I don’t have to lurk by the bar

Amber: how many drinks do you need before you do?

Cosmo: I said I don’t much

Amber: okay, I believe you, you’re not shy and you must like it

Cosmo: Probably not how you like it, or as much

Cosmo: but I don’t feel cringe

Amber: and I won’t have to either, which I would if I was forcing you onto the dance floor against your will

Cosmo: So, what would you prefer?

Amber: If you picked, it’s not ALL about me

Cosmo: Meet me [some beach] at [a crazy early time, potentially before school if we are in school rn]

Amber: [I totally think we should say we are because it fits for the awkward date timeline and I think I mentioned school earlier in the convo because of it being Sunday eve rn]

Amber: I don’t know it but I’ll find it

Cosmo: I forgot you’re new

Cosmo: I can pick you up again, if you’d rather

Amber: that’d give us more time there

Cosmo: The phonebox then

Amber: I don’t mind if it becomes a habitual meeting place

Cosmo: We could both get quite the rep if it did

Amber: no worse than the one I already have

Cosmo: I don’t even think that’s debatable, soz

Cosmo: however sex-positive you wanna be

Cosmo: and footballers involvement with sex workers is long and checkered so yeah, not a good look for me most of all

Amber: okay fine, slightly worse

Cosmo: 😆

Amber: you turn the wrong things into contests, you know

Cosmo: If you were a lad you’d have to think about those things too

Cosmo: especially a lad with things to lose

Amber: I have to think about things that are more likely to actually happen, because I’m not a boy and you are

Amber: reputation is nothing on the threat scale

Cosmo: That works until you’re getting into a car with, and have met up with me on multiple occasions

Cosmo: despite the fact I’m a total stranger, so I doubt the sincerity of your fear

Amber: I never said I made good decisions, or that I was scared of you

Cosmo: I know you don’t

Amber: Hypothetically, I have more to lose, that’s all, because you could easily kill me, especially if you keep holding what I did with your brother over my head

Cosmo: Yeah, that’s what I mean

Cosmo: it’s not more likely I’m a serial killer

Amber: If you don’t like the way I interpret what you say, say it differently

Cosmo: I’ve not expressed any intention to hurt you

Cosmo: I said scandal would kill my career, which is true

Amber: I know, and I’ve said before that I’m not gonna get you involved in anything scandalous

Cosmo: then we’re fine

Amber: we can meet somewhere else if it’s gonna be not fine for you

Cosmo: It won’t be

Cosmo: it’s just that people like you always act like reputation means nothing

Cosmo: It’s everything and it’s a lot of work to maintain a good one

Amber: People like me have it decided for them, I’m not gonna give power to bullshit that isn’t even true

Cosmo: No, that means you’ve not ever tried and you never will

Cosmo: no one is gifted a good reputation, you earn it, you prove yourself

Cosmo: you sit back and cry about your lack of privilege, if you wanted it, you’d go and get it

Amber: Tried to what, change people’s innate bias? Obviously not because it’s inevitable they think those things about me, you said it and you did it

Amber: I look like your brother’s type, you’re waiting for a lecture on polyamory, all that free love bullshit, I shouldn’t have to prove what I’m not like

Cosmo: Why shouldn’t you?

Cosmo: And why wouldn’t you

Cosmo: Who do you think you are that you’re exempt, proving yourself is the only worthwhile thing you could spend your time doing

Cosmo: Not holding yourself back by what people automatically think by never challenging that and acting like that’s their bad

Amber: It is their bad if they don’t challenge it by bothering to get to know people individually

Cosmo: That’s stupid, and unrealistic

Cosmo: You aren’t special

Cosmo: If you don’t offer something to the world no one is ever going to give a shit about you, that is the actual reality we operate in

Cosmo: you’re setting yourself up for more complaining and disappointment by expecting anything different

Amber: I could be special to someone, if we both look deeper than the surface and get to know each other, who I am is what I have to offer the world, that’s the reality

Cosmo: Maybe

Cosmo: You’re gonna meet a handful of people in your life, and you’ll stick with one of them, ‘til it falls apart and then you pick another one

Cosmo: If that’s what you want

Amber: Why wouldn’t I want that?

Cosmo: Loads of reasons

Amber: such as…?

Cosmo: Both aforementioned, you really think out of all the people in the world, you’re going to find the right one

Cosmo: no

Cosmo: and it will end, usually badly

Amber: I think it’s possible and lots of impossible things happen daily anyway

Cosmo: Good luck then, seriously

Amber: that implies I’m just hoping and won’t actually do anything to make sure it doesn’t end badly or the person is right for me

Cosmo: Most people try on both fronts

Cosmo: the numbers don’t lie

Amber: odds get beaten and then the numbers don’t matter

Cosmo: I said good luck and I meant it, for real

Amber: and what you're really saying is drop it now, right?

Cosmo: No but what more do we really need to say on it

Cosmo: go ahead if you’ve got something

Amber: Cynical

Cosmo: I’m realistic

Amber: I'm realistic, you point out the downside

Cosmo: The downside is realistic

Amber: 😂 as is admitting the existence of a plausible upside

Cosmo: I know there is

Cosmo: I’m on the path to mine

Amber: I can't wait to see you play

Cosmo: I’ll try not to disappoint you

Amber: Not gonna happen, we're both realists

Cosmo: Not another thing in common 😏

Amber: We’re not up to 9, you can relax

Cosmo: Tah, like

Cosmo: So, what’s on the agenda for you now?

Amber: feeding the 5000 with my share of meal prep for the week, putting the 🐓 to bed, counting plastic babies ready for my mama's morning drop in session… because I don’t know why but they go missing quicker than 🌿 in this place and there’s never enough for the number of parents who come, maybe it’s 👽

Amber: and finishing the homework I didn't at yours

Amber: What are you gonna be doing?

Cosmo: Well, none of that is anything I would’ve guessed 😅

Cosmo: Maybe the meal prep

Cosmo: I have to do that too, help my ma

Amber: I’m surprised you didn’t guess about the animals, and honestly shocked if you’ve never had any 🐐 visit you

Cosmo: You haven’t looked out the window you’re coming in?

Cosmo: we’ve got our own here, I’d not notice yours from my nans

Amber: I thought you’d be able to tell them apart

Cosmo: Why did you think that? 😂

Amber: you’re pretty observant, I don’t know

Cosmo: Yeah but, hardly on my radar

Amber: but you could tell me apart from the other girls here before I was on your radar

Cosmo: You aren’t a goat

Cosmo: neither of us can count that as a compliment

Amber: I’m gonna, they nearly knock me over all the time, it’s annoying

Cosmo: More annoying than the other girls?

Amber: that’s girl dependent, some of them for sure

Cosmo: I get you

Cosmo: I’ve seen plenty come and go

Amber: Am I the first you’ve spoken to?

Cosmo: Are there still Cavantes there?

Cosmo: Because I have some tenuous connection to them, some of them have spoken to me before

Amber: [list any that could be because I’ve forgotten which Caleb children exist and when lol]

Cosmo: Yeah, those ones [the ones around your age range]

Cosmo: most of them suck

Amber: I can’t argue with you, as much as I know you like it

Cosmo: Nah, you don’t have to pretend they ain’t, is all I’m saying

Cosmo: they’re not family or anything I care about

Amber: I probably wouldn’t have, I don’t have your manners

Cosmo: Yeah, fair enough

Cosmo: Why’d you ask?

Amber: more curiosity, I guess

Cosmo: Not wanting to be ⭐️?

Amber: you don’t believe I’m special, we covered that

Cosmo: I don’t think anyone is

Amber: What about yourself?

Cosmo: You think I’m that dickhead

Cosmo: No one but me

Cosmo: no, obviously not

Amber: I think you must have self belief to do what you’re doing

Cosmo: I believe in hardwork

Cosmo: and luck

Amber: but hard work isn’t all it takes, or anyone could be a ⚽️⭐️

Cosmo: right, that’s the luck

Cosmo: I’ve not earnt it, but if it happens I have to work hard to not waste it

Amber: Why haven’t you earned it? You’ve been working hard since you were a kid

Cosmo: I didn’t earn having a dad who already got his shot

Amber: that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve yours, you’re not your dad

Cosmo: It means I’ve had help loads of people don’t get

Cosmo: that doesn’t make me less deserving any more than it makes them more because they’re the ‘underdog’

Amber: right, but you also have talent lots of people don’t have

Cosmo: Lots of people do too

Amber: okay, but special isn’t a bad word, it’s allowed

Cosmo: I just think it’s bullshit

Amber: it’s just praise

Cosmo: I don’t need it

Amber: doesn’t everyone, sometimes?

Cosmo: Maybe, I really don’t know

Cosmo: achievements works fine for me

Amber: so you’re fine and gonna be fine

Cosmo: What are you saying?

Amber: nothing, what do you want me to be saying?

Cosmo: Just that

Amber: 😶

Cosmo: Go search for the 👶s and 🐓s

Cosmo: and don’t forget your towel

Amber: You’d let me share, no question

Cosmo: I’ve told you the changing room isn’t like that, babe

Amber: I’ll bring my own when I meet you at the gym, your friends don’t have to pout

Cosmo: It’s like you have met them already

Amber: you’ve told me plenty about them, I feel like I’ve got the picture

Cosmo: You think that about me as well

Amber: are you asking me or telling me what you think I think?

Cosmo: You’ve said as much, so I’m just reiterating

Amber: I definitely don’t have your full picture

Cosmo: 🖼

Amber: 👨🏽‍🎨

Cosmo: Is that you or me?

Amber: you still creating yourself, meet me at the phonebox in maybe 70 years and you can give me the full picture

Cosmo: But you’re done already?

Cosmo: bit rude

Amber: I'll never be done but you don't wanna know me like that, boy

Cosmo: Maybe

Amber: you'll remember to keep the date with me when we're old?

Cosmo: If I’m still around, sure

Amber: 👴🏽💪🏽

Amber: you again, absolutely not what I’m gonna be looking like in the future

Cosmo: A serious downgrade 😅

Cosmo: I can’t imagine being that old though

Amber: if you still won’t send me selfies I’ll have no idea what to expect

Cosmo: You’ll have time to get better at stalking

Amber: or asking you politely to do what I want

Cosmo: If you show that much perseverance, I’ll definitely reward it, like

Amber: I'll stay in touch wherever I am in the world, until technology gets too complicated for me and my grandkids refuse to help me flirt with faces from the past

Cosmo: 🤣

Cosmo: they sound ungrateful already

Amber: They're cynics too, it makes sense they would be, where's their granddad in all this? He can't be that special to me if I'm talking about you as the one who got away

Cosmo: Maybe a lifetime of every day does that to a relationship

Cosmo: I’m sure he was special once upon a time

Amber: Are you saying I wouldn't be fun to spend every day with?!

Amber: I won't keep haunting you then

Cosmo: Your husbands the dead one, not you

Amber: you called me a 👻 first, before I had a husband

Cosmo: I also said it wasn’t horrible hanging out with you

Amber: talking to me wasn't, is what you said, but now I know you like hanging out with me too

Cosmo: Damn it 😏

Amber: You kinda gave yourself away on that on the shopping trip anyway, I wasn't looking in the mirror or at 👗 for the FULL hour, I saw you 😏

Cosmo: I weren’t looking at you in the mirror or at you in the dress the whole time either, just FYI

Amber: but we did pick the best, didn’t we? ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️?

Amber: hiding dresses in my school bag can’t become a habit, I need some space for 📚

Cosmo: I’d say 9 going out dresses was excessive but I’m sure the girls I know would think the exact opposite

Amber: I assume they have the wardrobe space I don’t and 🥂🤵🍾 places to go

Cosmo: That’s the goal, anyways

Amber: I only need one if it’s the right one

Cosmo: And it is

Amber: promise it’s not a kind lie?

Cosmo: Cross my heart

Amber: okay, I’ll remove the tags

Cosmo: Remember to recycle for the karma to get back in your favour, yeah

Amber: I could use it to make a really tiny sign supporting you, since you hate praise so much

Cosmo: I don’t hate praise

Amber: that isn’t the impression you’ve given me so far, but maybe you just hate it from me

Cosmo: Maybe I only like it when I’ve earnt it

Amber: When have I tried to give you anything you haven’t earned?

Cosmo: You and me probably have different ideas of when praise has been earnt and when it’s premature

Amber: I don't see why we would, it's quite clear cut when praise has been earned or not, isn't it?

Cosmo: Nah, it’s definitely not

Cosmo: I’m not gonna tell you you’ve been over-praised and start something but I’m sure your parents are quicker with the ⭐️ than most

Amber: You're sure because…?

Cosmo: how you are, it’s quite obvious

Amber: Oh because I have an understanding of my self worth, I'm happy that's obvious

Cosmo: See, you even said that dead cocky

Amber: You're making an assumption, I could've had lots of really supportive friends or boyfriends, or spent every day looking into the mirror giving myself praise

Cosmo: I’m not wrong though

Cosmo: and parental relationships trump those by far in terms of shaping development so double not wrong

Amber: Not wrong just very smug about being right

Cosmo: You’ve taken it as an insult, I didn’t say it as one

Amber: When has cocky ever been used as flattery?

Cosmo: First time for everything… ?

Cosmo: I only called you cocky once you got on the defensive

Amber: if I'm on the defensive it's because the negative traits you think I have are piling up

Cosmo: I didn’t say it was negative, for the 2nd time

Amber: I don't believe you any more than I did the first time

Cosmo: Well I can’t change that now

Amber: My attention's on dolls and chickens anyway

Cosmo: 👍

Amber: You really can't change it, can you?

Cosmo: What do you mean?

Amber: how you are, how these conversations always go

Cosmo: Were you expecting me to?

Cosmo: Sorry to disappoint

Amber: You're not, or the apology would be realer

Cosmo: Because who are you to ask me to change myself

Cosmo: what the fuck

Amber: Who am I to ask you to think before you speak? The person you're talking to

Cosmo: I don’t need to listen to this

Amber: and I don't need you making me feel bad about myself every time we talk because you think I need to be humbled or whatever this is

Cosmo: Why are you still talking to me then

Amber: Because there's a side to you that doesn't make me feel like that

Cosmo: You deserve better than that

Cosmo: and I don’t want to be someone who makes anyone feel like shit

Amber: So try not to be

Cosmo: It’s not that easy

Cosmo: not with you, I don’t know why

Amber: change isn't easy ever, that's where trying comes in, and why I said it instead of telling you to just do it with a please tacked on so it seems less demanding

Cosmo: Or we could admit we’re a poor match

Cosmo: Wouldn’t that be easier for us both, and more sensible as well

Amber: No, you already admitted you like talking to and hanging out with me, which means we can do this

Amber: everything isn't wrong because we've identified a problem area

Cosmo: If you feel like shit I feel like shit

Amber: You're not your brother, it's not that bad between us

Cosmo: It’s not a comparison I need so close to hand

Amber: it's not a comparison

Amber: you sound like you're this close to offering to give me my necklace back when that's the opposite of what you should be doing

Cosmo: Alright

Cosmo: [my vibe is time to go to the phonebox and leave his necklace for her because clearly we shouldn’t see each other rn but that is the opposite]

Cosmo: left something for you

Amber: Where?

Cosmo: Come on

Amber: No, if you say the phonebox it means you’re not coming

Cosmo: I’ve just left

Cosmo: If you want it, it’s there

Amber: This feels like a breakup

Cosmo: It can’t be a breakup

Cosmo: just go to the phonebox, I obviously weren’t coming in

Amber: [do go and get that gal]

Amber: It's not your good luck charm, right? I don’t want it to be my fault you lose your friendly

Cosmo: It isn’t, you’re fine

Cosmo: I don’t have one and I wouldn’t gift you my own bad luck

Amber: thanks for not being upset enough at me to wanna hex me

Cosmo: I definitely haven’t chatted to enough girls there to know where to start

Cosmo: My dad got it for me, when I got my contract and my number

Amber: you’re sure you want me to have it?

Cosmo: I didn’t leave it for the next person who needs to call breakdown services to find

Cosmo: ‘course I do

Amber: I know, but you don’t have to give me anything to try and make up for what I said

Cosmo: I’m not, it’s not like that

Cosmo: You said you didn’t want yours back

Amber: and I don’t, I’m just checking you won’t want yours back when you have time to think about it

Cosmo: put it on and show me?

Amber: oh okay, if it looks stupid you want it back

Amber: [but do obviously]

Cosmo: Yeah, you can keep it

Cosmo: I’m sure

Amber: Are you gonna wear yours?

Cosmo: [send your first selfie back boy]

Amber: you do know how to 🤳🏽!

Cosmo: click and points not beyond my capabilities, yeah

Amber: your secret’s safe with me

Amber: and I won’t be expecting them all the time from now on, you can relax again

Cosmo: I’m sorry

Cosmo: for talking to you like that

Amber: I am too, for pushing you, I can usually communicate better than this

Cosmo: Me too

Cosmo: believe it or not

Cosmo: that’s what I meant, this isn’t how I usually interact with anyone, seriously

Amber: Neither do I and if it was always like that I’d drop it, but yesterday shopping, it wasn’t, I did something I never do but I didn’t once feel 👽

Amber: I have school friends I’ve known for months now that can’t put me that at ease

Cosmo: I know

Cosmo: I’m not going to say you’re imagining it or something

Cosmo: If we really were just incompatible, I’d have found a polite way to tell you by now

Amber: of course you would 😂

Amber: be my friend, please

Cosmo: I can hear the 🥺

Cosmo: You don’t have to ask nice

Cosmo: We can be friends

Amber: I thought I’d give you a break from seeing them

Cosmo: I thought that might be punishment

Amber: I don’t want to

Cosmo: That’s a relief

Cosmo: I know how tough you are

Amber: No you don’t, boy

Cosmo: You can prove it another time

Amber: at the beach?

Cosmo: It will be cold

Amber: I was convinced the necklace meant we weren’t going

Cosmo: No, I just didn’t want to see you RIGHT now

Cosmo: no offence, obviously

Cosmo: it’s just a lot, isn’t it

Cosmo: but we both still like swimming

Amber: I’ve liked it since I was a 👶🏽 you’re not having it in the breakup

Cosmo: 😏 Alright, ‘cos you can’t be claiming your new found love for the game/my income

Cosmo: I’ll have to cope

Amber: give me enough time to work out the offside rule before your next goodbye

Cosmo: It’s not that hard to get your head ‘round, just hard remembering it as you play

Cosmo: I’ll explain it before I go

Amber: if I didn’t have homework to finish I’d let you try now

Cosmo: Can’t say I’ll miss having to do mine

Amber: Do you have to do ⚽️ homework too like dribbling and headers?

Cosmo: I think we just call that training 😂

Cosmo: but yeah you’re in deep shit if you don’t show for that

Amber: pretend I knew that and didn’t make myself look stupid

Cosmo: It’s not stupid, I don’t think I’ve ever heard it put like that though

Cosmo: keeping up your skills and fitness is like homework, when you think about it, but I guess that delegitimizes it being ‘work’

Cosmo: Do teachers call their marking homework? Maybe

Amber: my dad calls it marking but he’s not like my teachers at [whatever the school is called]

Amber: some of them would definitely try and be relatable like that

Cosmo: Ugh, yeah, I can hear that, like

Cosmo: they also get holidays that only school kids get as well though, which they don’t like attention being brought to

Amber: 😂 maybe I’ll draw attention to it when they ask me a question I don’t know the answer to

Cosmo: I didn’t recommend it 😶

Cosmo: can tell your dad though if he gets an attitude about the weed

Amber: He’s forgiven me, I promised to help him do lesson plans and get his students to follow them, they’re all acting like they break up for summer next week

Cosmo: Teacher’s pet makes sense 🍎

Cosmo: glad you sorted it though

Amber: it’s kinda put me off 🌿 maybe my body will be a temple by summer

Cosmo: I know it’s like, meant to be the same as a glass of wine to take the edge off

Cosmo: and I know it could be

Cosmo: but what the fuck is my brother ‘taking the edge’ off of, all day, every day

Cosmo: I don’t care how benign, how ‘harmless’ but how is that any different from drinking or doing any other drug all day?

Amber: I’m not someone he’ll accept an intervention from, but he needs to hear it from somewhere, because you’re right, it’s too much

Cosmo: People have tried

Cosmo: You know how he is

Amber: and he’s not the only one, we both know being here all the time, surrounded by like minded people validates it as though it’s just another part of the daily routine

Cosmo: Yep

Cosmo: I can’t be bothered with him, I really can’t

Cosmo: it’s just infuriating

Amber: What does your dad say? It seems like something he’d have an opinion on…

Cosmo: Yeah he don’t like it

Cosmo: no one would care if he did it as well as doing anything fucking else with his days

Cosmo: he’s just living up to that lazy black boy stereotype, so dad doesn’t love that, of course

Amber: infuriating is a good choice to describe him and how intent he is on wasting his time

Cosmo: Fuck him

Cosmo: he’ll have to grow up eventually

Amber: And he’ll have to stop fucking other people over when I deny him as many easy ways to do it as I can, that’s what punishment from me looks like, FYI

Cosmo: Noted

Cosmo: and suitably impressed, once I see the results, like

Amber: I’ll try not to disappoint you the first time you’ve admitted you could be impressed by me

Cosmo: Shh

Cosmo: Sounds like something a loser would say, not a winner

Amber: 😶

Cosmo: 😁

1 note · View note

rabtownsend · 3 years

Text

Rules: answer 20 questions and tag 20 blogs you’d love to get to know better!

Tagged by: not actually tagged by @thisawkwardmachine but if she’d had the juice to bother to tag people, I want to pretend I would have been one of those people.

Name: Rab Townsend, bruh.

Pronouns: he/him

Zodiac: Leo, but secret virgo leanings.

Height: 5'11"

Time: 5:38pm. (this feels irrelevant)

Nationality: Canadian

Favorite band: Currently digging Haken but some top artists: Mew, Animal Collective, Radiohead, Grandaddy, Frank Zappa, Polysics, The Moody Blues, Rush, Sigur Ros, Nine Inch Nails... I dunno, this list could go on and on.

Favorite artist: Despite being into photography, I find myself pretty unmoved by most famous artists. I suppose I’m fond of Lawren Harris’ paintings of icebergs, and a lot of the art I like these days by random people I see on social media follows a similar style.

When you created your blog: I think this blog dates back to 2010?

The last thing you googled: ... Lawren Harris - I was looking for that painting.

Lucky number: any number ending in 7 except 7.

Other blogs: @hatebunnyoncomics; @carolinelikegasoline; @townsendtenyearsago I haven’t updated any of them in a while, but one day I’ll get around to updating the ten-years-ago blog again. It’s just going to be a lot of work.

Why I chose my url: It’s my name.

How many people you’re following: 301 - Most of whom are gone now. I think I’m only seeing 4 or 5 active blogs on my dashboard these days.

How many followers: 1,843 - a number that hasn’t changed significantly since the exodus in 2017.

Just pausing here to wonder why the fuck people are lighting fireworks in broad daylight in my neighbourhood right now.

Average hours of sleep: I usually go to sleep around 2am and wake up at 8:10am. And then on weekends I stay up until 3am and wake up around 10 or 11. My body doesn’t like any of that.

Instruments: I took piano lessons for about 10 years, but only ever really learned to play by ear, which annoyed my teacher greatly (and that’s why I quit). I still play today, but I can’t do much with my left hand besides plonk out base notes. I did upright and electric bass through high school, and used that to teach myself guitar. A few years ago, I got an electronic drum kit and taught myself basic drums, but I had to pack that up because my downstairs neighbour threatened to stab me in the face. I would say I am fine at all of them, but not good at any of them.

Currently wearing: PJ pants, same T-shirt as yesterday. Ancient trucker hat to keep my un-gelled hair outta my face.

Dream trip: I’d really just like to go to my family cottage, and I don’t care to go anywhere else.

Favorite food: Probably the giant burrito I sometimes get from Grilliies. It is too giant, but I eat it all in one sitting, and it usually makes me feel awful. That said, the mere thought of it is making me consider ordering one tonight.

Favorite song: Of all time? I couldn’t tell you that. Currently, I am hooked on the songs “Earthrise” and “Crystallized” by Haken. And I am trying not to be a stereotypical prog-guy, (is that a stereotype), but I cannot deny my nature. 5+ of my past fave songs are more than 10 minutes long.

But also, here is a spotify playlist of some of my all time favourite songs.

Three fictional universes I wanna live: Narnia, Hyrule, I dunno... Thedas from Dragon Age?

I tag nobody, because nobody I tag will do it.

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livvywrites · 5 years

Text

11/11/11

tagged by @aslanwrites, thanks so much~~~ this is one of my favorite tag games tbh xD

1. If your WIP got made into a movie, which actors/actresses would you cast for your main characters?

I’ve never been real good at fancasting, tbh. Probably because I really don’t watch a lot of movies. BUT, I do have some faceclaims that I’ve found through pinterest and other sites?

Alinora Mynerva -- Tuba Buyukustun

Lyr Inerra -- Luke Pasqualino

Talitha Jade -- short haired Halsey

Haven’t found any other fc’s yet, but there’s a short list!!

2. What is a story you’d like to write, but don’t know how to yet tackle?

There are a couple of different ones, actually.

The first is one I’ve talked about before on Tumblr. It’s called Heart Eater. (It’s a temporary title.) It’s a lot darker than my usual stories, though, so I have no idea where to even start. Not to mention I don’t know what kind of genre or setting to use...

The second is temporarily titled Guardians/Overmorrow. It’s more of a sci-fi/fantasy story, with both high technology and a little magic. Or a lot of magic. It was one of the first novel ideas that I came up with and stuck with, though I didn’t finish it. I would love to tackle it one day, but for the moment, I don’t have much for it! Nor much faith in my ability to tackle any of the science that would be involved xD

3. How do you deal with writer’s block?

Crying, begging, pleading, making sacrifices to the writing gods...

I kid, I kid.

I don’t really handle writer’s block all that well, tbh. But there are a couple of different things that (occasionally) work for me.

The first is just leaving the story alone. Focusing on something else, if it’s a specific story block, or just taking a break from writing all together. I’ll do things like read and play games instead.

The second is to stop writing the story, but still do things related to it. Create playlists--none of which I really like well enough to share, tbh, but I’m working on it! Make moodboards/aesthetics, do character questionnaires, revisit the plot with new templates... You know. Whatever I can do that’s still relevant to what I’m writing but isn’t actually writing. Or is, in the case of modern AU’s/pre-series drabbles. (Usually I’m too blocked up even for those, though.)

4. Coffee, hot chocolate, or tea?

All of the above!

I wish I could tell you I had a specific preference, but I really don’t. It switches up on me a lot. I CAN tell you that I’m picky about all of the above, though.

Tea I like to be sweet and a little spicy. I’m a big fan of Chai lattes, but I also have this lovely Warm Fireside tea that I ADORE. Sadly, they’ve discontinued it, though, so I’ll be hunting around again soon. *sigh* I also really enjoy sweet tea! But I like it *really* sweet.

Coffee I like with creamer. A lot of creamer. Like, two thirds coffee, one third creamer. Lattes are amazing, tbh. I mostly prefer vanilla flavoring, but sometimes I’ll go for caramel...

Hot chocolate is probably what I’m least picky about, tbh. I’ll drink it by itself, but I like it best with a bit of peppermint. (I keep peppermint creamer on hand, but I also usually have mints in my purse I can drop in.)

5. Do you believe in the death of the author?

Yes.

I think that an author’s interpretation and intention are still relevant to a work, but I also believe in a fan’s ability to disregard those things and do it their own way. And I don’t think that the author should interfere with that. Conversely, I don’t believe that fandom has the right to control how an author continues their work.

In short, while fandom and author overlap in the middle, there should also be some separation--much like a venn diagram ;)

6. What is a trope that needs more love?

You know, my first impulse was to say “found family” but like. That one is everywhere lately. (I am NOT complaining. I just don’t think it’s in the spirit of the question to answer that way xD)

So I don’t really know specific “tropes” necessarily, and I’m not falling into the void that is TV tropes to answer, so I’m just going to list some things that I, personally, would like to see more of?

male/female friendships that don’t end in romance, pls. AND, if either has a significant other, that SO doesn’t get jealous every time they’re in the vicinity of each other.

healthy M/F ships!!! no unnecessary miscommunication or jealousy please!! unless that miscomm is used for non relationship-threatening humor.

characters that don’t end in relationships??? it feels like in a lot of mainstream fiction lately all the characters end up with someone. i love a good romance as much as anyone, but as an ace and possibly aro person (questioning, majorly) it’s also a little disappointing???

the power of FRIENDSHIP. this probably goes hand-in-hand with the found family, but like. friendship/platonic love being the most important thing to a person??? yes pls.

I’ll stop there ‘cause I think that’s enough, but those are a few things!! :D

7. What is your biggest inspiration?

This question is actually really hard for me, because I don’t KNOW.

Part of me wants to just boil it down to life, to living every day and finding something new about the world/about myself. And that IS a good answer, and true as well, but it doesn’t feel quite... right.

I could tell you that I feel inspired every time I pick up a new book, or poem, or fanfic to read. I could tell you that I feel inspired every time I see a commercial for a movie or a TV show. I could tell you that history articles/magazines inspire me. I could tell you that hearing about different identities and cultures inspires me. I could tell you that I find inspiration everywhere, in everything, and that none of it would qualify as my “biggest” inspiration, because I get little bits from everywhere.

But that still doesn’t feel right either.

I feel like maybe I’m missing the point of the question.

8. Let’s go on a little adventure: One day, you end up in the same world as your characters–or if they’re in ours, you end up with your characters in some way, shape or form. What do you do?

I’m going to assume that either they don’t know who I am or think of me as some scribe meant to tell their story, instead of the person who created it. (Which is how I think of myself sometimes, tbh.) Because otherwise I feel like they would probably be maybe a little mad at me.

So, first things first, I probably give Alinora and Aishlynn a hug. Well. Okay. I don’t hug them because neither of them would be super comfortable with that. (Alinora doesn’t mind, and even appreciates, hugs from people she knows, but not so much people she doesn’t. Aishlynn just isn’t big on hugs in general.)

And then I probably fangirl a little.

Just a little.

I mean. These are my BABIES, and yes they’re flawed and have their weak spots but. They’re also so STRONG and HEROIC and GOOD and I just LOVE THEM.

9. If you had a magical power, what would that power be?

Probably something like empathy. tbh, but I would WANT like... the ability to not have to sleep. Though I guess that would probably get boring after a while.

10. What is a genre that you feel is underrated? What about overrated?

So, I feel like every genre has the potential to be done really well, and I think I could probably enjoy something from pretty much any of them. HOWEVER. Lately I’ve been a little... uninterested in a lot of mainstream YA fiction. Not all of it, necessarily, but a lot of it. It’s not that I think YA as a whole is overrated, because I don’t. But at the same time, I do?? I dunno. I wanna read more about older people??? Not full-on “adult” fiction, but y’know. New Adult. And while I don’t think NA is “underrated” specifically, I do wish they had an actual section for it in bookstores.

11. Have you accomplished anything that you’re proud of?

Yes. I finished my very first novel around 17. (I might have actually been 16 and a half.) I still have yet to complete the second draft/full rewrite, but I’m still really proud of actually FINISHING it.

I’m also really proud of how far I’ve made it into THE MARTYR QUEEN. I’ve started and re-started that story so many times, and actually being THIS close to the end, with a draft I don’t hate... It’s amazing. I mean, it definitely needs changes, but I’m really proud of how it’s shaping up.

Now if I could just finish a short story.... X’D

MY QUESTIONS

Have you ever been so disappointed/unimpressed by a character’s concept/arc/etc. that you decided to take that concept and write it how you wished it had been told? Whether you’ve started the story or not is irrelevant, just if you’ve got an idea built up!

What do you feel are your biggest strengths in writing? What makes you look back over your writing and feel proud?

Are there any characters, themes, setting types, etc that you see popping up over and over again in your writing? Why do you think that is?

If you could give your past self any writing-related advice, what would you tell them?

When it comes to character creation, what are things you HAVE to know before you start writing, if anything?

Similarly, what are some things you HAVE to know about your plot before you start writing, if anything?

How often do find that your characters/plot surprise you?

What do you find the most difficult/what is your weakest point when it comes to world-building?

What experiences do you feel have most shaped your writing? (It’s okay if you don’t want to share specifics, or don’t want to share at all! Or just don’t know. You can say something else that majorly shaped your writing :D)

Do you find it easier to work alone, or to have at least one other writer/person encouraging you?

Assuming you aren’t already, if you were ever to write a story based off of a mythology/fairytale/other, which one would you choose, and how would you do it?

(i won’t be tagging 11 people, i’m sorry! but if you see this and WANT to do it, PLEASE do so and tag me. if i’ve already tagged you in something like this recently, feel free to pick which one you do <3)

tagging: @aslanwrites (yes, i’m tagging you back, but only do it if you want to! or save it for later, when you wanna have something to do. i don’t mind xD) @waterfallwritings, @diabhals, @matterovermindpodcast, @firesidefantasy, @klywrites

#tag games #11 11 11 #my answer for my first question is yes btw #specifically based off of dany's character in got #i wrote the prologue before the final season aired #not that i actually ever watched got #i just read the books #but like #im not sure i like where her character is going in the books???#i dunno #we'll see #but i decided to write my own version of the concept #but v v different at the same time #its called valkyrie #it'll be my next project #cause it's a standalone #i might post a moodboard for it later xD #feel free to ask about it if you want!

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turtle-steverogers · 6 years

Text

i’m sad and this made me happy to write

so here’s so german!albert ,,,!! even tho i hc him as brazilian !!!

warnings: none

ship: uh ralbert but that’s kinda irrelevant

editing: n o

Albert was awoken by a soft knock at his and Race’s bedroom door. He sat up, looking over his shoulder at his husband, who was dormant under the sheets.

Sighing, he pushed himself out of bed and opened the door to find Emelia, sitting on the floor tiredly, clutching her blanket.

“Emelia?” Albert bent down to her level, tapping her chin to get her to look him him, “What’s wrong, Schatzeli?”

“I can’t sleep, Vati,” She mumbled, punctuating her statement with a yawn.

“Ah,” Albert sighed, hoisting her onto his hip, “That’s no good. Why can’t ya sleep, Schatz?”

Emelia shrugged leaning her head onto Albert’s shoulder, “I dunno.”

Albert carried her to the living room, setting her down on the couch and tucking her blanket around her before sitting on the coffee table facing her, “Whatcha need?”

Emelia rubbed her eyes, peering up at Albert, “Wasser, bitte?”

“Absolutely, Spätzeli,” Albert said, kissing her forehead and padding over to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

By the time he got back, Emelia was dozing lightly on the arm of the sofa. She perked up when she heard him come in, making grabby hands for the water and downing the glass in a few gulps.

Albert sat on the couch next to her, letting her nestle into his side.

“Vati?”

“Hm?”

“Can you sing Ich Ghöre Es Glöggli?”

“Sure thing.”

Albert sang softly through the lullaby, smiling fondly when he finished to find Emelia fast asleep against his side. He picked her up and brought her back to her room, tucking her in carefully before going back to his own bed.

“You’re really fucking hot, you German bitch,” he heard Race mumble.

Albert laughed, “Same to you, Italian asshole.”

vati: daddy lol

wasser, bitte: water please

schatz/schatzeli: treasure

spätzeli: this ,,, egg noodle thing idk my mom always called me n my bro it

anyway it’s sad boy hours so yeet ignore me!!

am i gonna tag? yeah

hmu to be added to my tag

TAG LIST:

@bencookisagod

@we-dont-sell-papes

@suddenly-im-respecsable

@aw-jus-let-em-try

@well-the-kids-do-too

@spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn

@thatpoorguysheadisspinning

@spec-s-pecs

@andthewoildwillknow

@the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog

@sunshine-e-cigarettes

@have-we-got-news-for-you

@musical-shitposts

@thebroadwayaesthetic

@thomasbeingthomas

@irondad-spiderson-duo

@snakesarenonexistent

@i-got-no-clue-what-im-doing

@kpop-kk

@mentallytiredgoat

@yxseminx

@be-more-chill-evan-hansen

@stopthe-presses

@elmers-half-a-cup

@and-i-lostmy-shoe

@spot-me50-papes

@honeynutpoptarts

@newsies-ensemble

@bennie-badeend

@auspicioustarantula

@faithmil

#im really vibin w that one post en #rn*#where its like #race: *sighs* yall #ya kno the one?#yah #anyway #im astral projecting and tired and yeah

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destiny-smasher · 6 years

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Kingdom Hearts 3 impressions

So, uh, I will ONLY be talking about stuff up until the very start of the second World, and only AFTER the break. Kingdom Hearts 1 was an incredibly important and influential piece of media when I was growing up. I was writing fic based on Smash Bros. just before KH rolled onto the scene was like, “Yo, Disney and Final Fantasy, BAM, fuckin’ random? fucking RADDDD” and I was all about it. You had FF characters remixed with OCs remixed with Disney characters, and the villains were all crossing over to form the League of Bad Cartoons, it was a great time. And then Nomura realized his gamble was a win and decided to waste the next 15 years of everyone’s time shoving in every trope he liked, every IDEA that felt “cool” together into a mish mash of whatever the hell this “narrative” has become. Suffice it to say, I’ve got beef with Kingdom Hearts as a “story.” It just occurred to me today that a big part of this is thematic/tonal.

But it’s also VERY rare, maybe even unprecedented, for a piece of media like Kingdom Hearts 3 to come around. For years, then months, then weeks, then days, I told myself, “It’s not real, that game doesn’t exist, I won’t believe it until I’m literally playing it” and just could not be bothered to be hype or interested, if only because Nomura’s “vision”, from my perspective, warped something I admired in my youth into a fucking train wreck, leaving me very little to feel emotionally invested in outside of Aqua and by proxy the two lads she is trying to protect. (also I GUESS I’m slightly invested in Axel/Xion/Roxas.../Namine? for similar reasons now that I think about it?) Well, guess what? Kingdom Hearts VERY WELL might be real, and I very well might be about three hours into it. And for all of the beef I have with the plot, I am fucking relieved that those three hours have felt/sounded good, as a video game. NOW we’re gonna talk about the first World. --

When I first heard that Olympus was gonna be the first World in KH3 I was disappointed and BAFFLED. We’re visiting that place a THIRD time? And why THAT World? Turns out, there’s actually some substantial thematic relevance and that’s actually A-OK, not to mention that starting with a familiar world after ALL OF THIS TIME is not such a bad way to kick things off. First off, structurally, I actually really enjoyed the way this world played out. Two of my biggest problems with KH as a video game series have been that worlds feel like empty, vacant, haunted houses, and that said worlds are usually small and linear with a lot of pointless backtracking. Olympus fixes all of this. There are NPCs. Actual fucking PEOPLE in this world. Sure, they’re just people in danger, calling for help, but they’re THERE for once! And they have vocies! EVERY line of dialogue (except for like one “plot” moment) has actually been voiced so far! About time. Also. This World is not as linear as most KH Worlds. In fact, it help more open and dynamic than ANY World in any KH game so far, not to mention it featured three, THREE (wtf) unique and distinct types of settings. The city, the mountain, and Olympus. Nice. ALSO also. The music. We’ve been here before. We KNOW that Olympus theme from earlier games. And as you traverse the city, up the mountain, you hear this more sweeping, movie-like version, and it’s like “oh whoa nice” aaaaand then you get TO Olympus and it KICKS in, the old song, up to modern snuff. That was great. That was a thing that really helped convey “Kingdom Hearts is back, baby.” The World was big, compared to typical KH worlds. It had multiple nooks and crannies to explore, side-paths to go down, treasure to find hidden away. There is a LOT of verticality. Running up walls and seamlessly hopping over things in the environment makes traversal more enjoyable than it ever has been. Even though a lot of the World is technically a linear path it’s not structured like a path. Going off and exploring rewards you with items and the like, and the World is big enough to actually feel like you have places to poke around in. Having said this, WHY is there no...map? Like. You literally COLLECT Maps from Chests like you used to. But near as I can tell, there’s no way to pull up an actual MAP, to seer where the main path is, to see where the side paths are. It’s boggling. Maybe the game has the option hidden away somewhere but if so, that’s just silly. And if there’s just no actual map option at ALL that’s just...baffling. There were barely any load times for how much SPACE there was to navigate, and things looked very shiny and pretty, and ran at a smooth 60 fps MOST of the time. Tech specs aren’t everything, but when your brand is built on “looking pretty” it sure af helps when you bring scale AND a smooth framerate to match. It’s weird, and a bit jarring, sometimes in a good way, to see all of this stuff rendered in modern tech. Stuff looks...a little too plasticy a lot of the time, (which actually ought to pay off when we get to Toy Story?) but the environments so far feel rich and vast and detailed all at once in a way we just have never seen the series, because we’re basically jumping from PS2-level tech to PS4. So that difference in production is more noticeable for the wait -- I just wish things looked a bit more...I guess cel-shaded? Like the original trailer. Things (specifically, characters) look a little too flat/plasticy at times, for how pretty things are. Combat seems to be as flashy as ever and I’m sure I’ll feel differently as I get further in and unlock more options but it’s still too easy, simple, and mashy for my tastes. I am HOPING we get more moments that require quick reflexes and specific tactics like the harder moments of older KH games. The amusement rides mechanic is...weird. It’s given NO context in universe. And they last a little too long/feel too overpowered for how easy they are to utilize. Similarly, there are frequently seemingly random party-member tag-team attacks that...just seem like “press triangle to win” moves. I wish they entailed more interaction, and/or felt less common/random. I like the IDEA of these kinds of moves, especially ones that change your controls/method of attack for a few seconds (like Hercules’ team attack) but the execution makes them feel too cheap and easy to abuse, with combat that’s ALREADY skewing on the “too easy” side for the genre. I like the “form change” for keyblades, and that you can swap keyblades in the middle of a fight. Really hoping this allows for some good tactical stuff later -- buuuuut that would also require the game to ASK OF ME to do more than “mash X,” which KH as a brand typically does not do... Characters SPEAK in reaction to gameplay moments, when you initiate things in the environment, etc. It’s a nice touch that makes them feel more like characters in an RPG. Donald and Goofy are ALWAYS in the party, alongside the Disney member(s). NICE. Maybe KH3 is putting its best foot forward, but overall, I was pleasantly surprised with Olympus. It single-handedly corrected MOST of the issues I’ve ever had with Kingdom Hearts level design. I only hope the momentum keeps going. Moving on, Gummi Ships. What little I played is easily the best they have every been. I love having an open world with optional places/fights to explore, while still giving me those shmup-like bursts of action. The Gummi Phone seems like a fun mechanic, and taking selfies/photos makes SENSE for this game because of how visually detailed it is -- but the pleasant surprise was how I took selfies with Donald and Goofy and they REACTED to it, starting to pose and commenting on it. On the other hand, the loading screen being nonsensical “social media” posts from KH characters...I don’t like it thanks go away. x’D I’ve spent only a few minutes in Twilight Town and INSTANTLY I am so much more enamored than I ever was in previous games. Not just due to the bump up in visual fidelity, but also because -- GASP -- NPCs??? Are you trying to tell me this is an actual TOWN that people LIVE IN?? Holy shit, Kingdom Hearts, I never knew! For all of this stuff I liked, though, KH3 is still...a KH game. Which means after you get through the intro, after you gear up to land in Olympus, the game flashes the title: “Kingdom Hearts II.9″ ...no. Just no. Fuck. Stop doing this shit. Whenever an Organization 13 member (or EX member) shows up and starts speaking all cocky in riddles like the flamboyant anime jackass they are, whenever Mickey starts dead-ass blathering about weird nonsense whenever the plot HAS to acknowledge “oh right Sora golly gawrsh ya FURRGOT this random bullshit a-FYUCK better shove this expository throwaway dialogue right in here before we go n’ furrget again!” whenever Kairi continues to be irrelevant and invisible after ALL THIS TIME whenever Rikku has to say some obligatory thing about his darkness or his copy of himself or Ansem or whatever whenever the plot informs Sorta/Dornold/Goffy about another convoluted ridiculous THING that we already know about and they MAYBE already know about because it is OBLIGATED to because this game’s entire purpose has become to “wrap things up already Nomura” I am reminded of the freshly opened scar on my heart from how much SHIT this series has dragged itself through for...what? Nothing worth all of this, IMO. Thankfully, these moments feel less and less pressing in KH3′s opening hours than they certainly could be, though I’m sure the closing hours of the game -- once they’ve tidily gotten all of that silly, inconsequential DISNEY CONTENT out of the way (even though that’s the BULK of the game environments and HALF of the series’ identity/purpose) -- those closing hours will surely be packed to the gills with all of this crazy crap. Maybe by then I might finally care enough to finally get the catharsis I’ve waited over a decade for. I dunno. I’m just relieved the game looks, plays, sounds, and feels as good as it does so far. EDIT: almost forgot to mention this since it hasn’t actually come up yet BUT I picked up a BUNCH of “ingredients”??? Like. FOR COOKING??? Which is one of my all-time favorite mechanics in a video game?? (thanks Paper Mario) So I’m at LEAST excited to see what THAT is all about.

#KH3 #Kingdom Hearts 3

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soloshikigami · 7 years

Text

*small sigh*

Okay, look, I’ve been getting a handful of messages, all on Anon, a couple of them I posted and most of the rest, I’m sorry, but I’m ignoring. They’re not being out-right mean or rude, but that almost makes it worse, because you (the anons) think you’re being helpful and frankly, you really aren’t.

Quick example, the anon who sent me the “Oh do this, challenge yourself and you’ll be a better writer!” I was actually quite offended by that. As an artist, constant improvement is the name of the game, so to be told that is a little insulting. Also, it comes off as unsolicited advice, which is even more insulting coming from someone hiding behind the anonymous tag. I didn’t ask for a challenge, I think trying to keep up with what I currently have on my plate is quite enough, thank you very much.

I really do not want to be a bitch about this and I probably am coming off as such anyway, but I really don’t want to but I cannot keep silent. Please read what you are sending me, remember that I am a human being with a life outside of Tumblr on the other side, and think about your intent.

This is all the basic tl;dr portion of my post. I have more to say, most of it irrelevant, so I’m putting it behind a cut and will likely delete that portion later.

This is the reason why I resented being told to take on something as a challenge - they told me to pick my personal most hated couple and write a story about them. Why? I write for fandom for fun. Yes I will take some things as a challenge but that it at my discretion. Also, quite frankly, ho do you know I’m not already doing this? Maybe I don’t really like Edgeberry, maybe Slim/Swap makes no sense to me, maybe I really do think fontcest is weird and strange but I’m so intrigued that I do it anyway? (that last bit is a small lie, I love fontcest in all it’s weird taboo-ness).

But also, this is why I find it insulting:

- at the time, I had a 2K word commission, and I was just given another. - I have a 1600 word prize fic to write. - I have 6 drabbles to write for prizes for the Valentine’s Day event. - I have 5 more drabbles I want to write for friends from Atlantale because I want to show them love. - I was talked into writing a fic by my Atlantale housemates based on a Buzzfeed video. - I want to write more HaremTale - I want to write more TwixtTale - I want to write more Gradient - I want to finish Family Dynamic - I want to write more for the Heat Sync Series and maybe, omg, finish that, too - I have a Sans and Papyrus “kidnap” Blue fic I want to write. - Oh right I still have Forgive Me, Father to do. - I’m still working on a master fic list which includes going through my 200+ drabbles and separating them by pairing as well as my 5000 posts on tumblr to ink up the fics I’ve posted here (so the Anon who asked me about going back to put my old posts under cuts... did I answer that? I dunno, but again, they should be anyways, so, back off).

But apparently, I need to add a challenge. Oh, and I need to work faster, update more often, and put all my fics under cuts now that I know how to do it on mobile.

And this is just fandom side. Let’s look at the other half of my life:

- I have a house, a cat, and six chickens to care for and maintain, which not only includes clean-up, but yardwork with leaf pick-up and tree destruction (half a tree fell down during a storm back in October - we still need to figure out how to cut that up and get rid of it). - Dishwasher is one the fritz and a bathroom sink faucet is leaking. Repairing these is left up to me. - My job is getting more complex; this is fine because it beats being bored but I’m a little stressed because we’re all still trying to catch up from a major mistake I made at the worst possible time (of course), I’m being given inventory responsibility but I have no access to said inventory and don’t really know or understand what’s expected of me, plus training girl in a faraway office who doesn’t want the responsibilities I’m training her for. - My truck is at the end of its rope, getting a new(er) vehicle is inevitable and will be needed very soon.

There’s also a lot of other stressors going on as well as my own physical and mental problems, so, if you Anons can back the fuck off and be a little nicer, I would very much appreciate it.

So thank you, now that I’m done being a whiny little do-nothing bitch and feel like a lazy shit, I’m going to do the grocery shopping and try to do something productive with my pathetic little life, a’ight? A’ight.

#Solo rants #i'm a little pissed #you might just want to avoid me #it's temporary #i'm also a marshmallow #i'll be all right

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corgisocks · 6 years

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85 questions

tagged by @ribenaflip 💞💕💖💗

rules: answer these 85 questions and tag 20 people

EDIT: as of 2019, this tag is like 20% irrelevant to what i’m like now....did it in 2017 so

— what was your last…

1. drink: water

2. phone call: it was me calling jojo’s phone so they could find it

3. text message: “I am having a major crisis”

4. song you listened to: coffee & tv by blur

5. you cried: that’s tmi but also saying it’s tmi is tmi and all of this is tmi so what am i DOING

— have you ever…

6. dated someone twice: nooo

7. kissed someone and regretted it: yes i kissed a piece of toast and it got crumbs all over my face

8. been cheated on: if i have been that’d be concerning seeing as i’ve never not been single

9. lost someone special: not recently.

10. been depressed: 24 hours 7 days a week m8

11. gotten drunk and thrown up: what is an alcohol? (no)

— fave colours

12. vermilion 13. cerulean 14. very very dark grey

— in the last year have you…

15. made new friends: YEET (shoutout to the gc)

16. fallen out of love: i WISH (lmao it’s been 2 years please end me)

17. laughed until you cried: yea obvs

18. found out someone was talking about you: many times. many many many times.

19. met someone who has positively changed you: YES. my bestest buddy has and not in a bad way. i’m definitely a better and happier person because i met him

20. found out who your friends are: i never think about friendships in that kind of way. and if i did i probs wouldn’t care to be like ‘they were a shitty friend’ instead it’d just be like they were someone in my life and it sucks that they’re not/don’t want to be in a good way anymore but shit happens. and i don’t take it personally

21. kissed someone on your facebook friends list: what is a face book because if it’s like a book of faces i kissed myself in the picture of my group of friends that is in my yearbook

— general

22. how many of your Facebook friends do you know irl: again…what is a face book

23. do you have any pets: YEET

24. do you want to change your name: i mean idk i think i’d be cool with just usin a nickname for now i’ll figure the legal stuff out later

25. what did you do for your last birthday: went to my friend’s birthday party. spent almost all of it looking for one of the people who was invited with two of my bros. then i saw wonder woman, went to a reallyreally good korean bakery, and then went to the empire state building. and last but not least, the next day, my friends came over and we played clue and mariokart. all in all it was a 10/10 birthday tbh! (it was an anomaly though ngl my birthday this year is going to be infinitely more depressing)

26. what time did you wake up today: 5:30 am cos my school starts too fuckin early ;(

27. what were you doing at midnight last night: taking a shower

28. what is something you can’t wait for: plake’s upcoming single (it’s my fav and i’ve been wanting it in my library for m o n t h s so i’m 110% ready for it

30. what are you listening to right now: the sound of people talking

31. have you ever talked to a person named tom: i was at an improv comedy show and of all people i was picked to volunteer and when i was on stage my shoe fell off and one of the comedians who was called tom was like 'your foot has been borne to the audience’

32. something that’s getting on your nerves: my own exhaustion!

33. most visited website: my school’s online gradebook 😬

34. hair colour: really dark brown (some people think it’s black but NO)

35. long or short hair: short...it will never be long again i assure you

36. do you have a crush on someone: yes ;(((

37a. what do you like about yourself: i may be an awful person atm but at least i can understand why i am the way i am and know how to improve

37b. what’s something you don’t like about yourself: too many things. rn though i don’t like how i come off as like a 'show-off’ when i’m trying to help people cos me trying to get them to like actually understand what they’re learning always sets em off even though it’d be worse to just do things my own confusing way and leave em in the dust. i also hate how i get frustrated with them (and myself tbh) when that happens

38. want any piercings: hecc no

39. blood type: i legit have no clue

40. nicknames: lou, coco

41. relationship status: what is a relation ship

42. sign: gemini

43. pronouns: he/they i GUESS

44. fave tv show: peppa pig tbh

45. tattoos: hecc no!

46. right or left handed: BOTH

47: ever had surgery: nope 😬

48. piercings: once again HECC NO

49. sport: used to do tennis and track. now i kind of just do a lil bit of everything for fun and i love biking and running

50. vacation: yes please. i need a vacation from LIFE

51. trainers: i’ve had the same old black nikes for three years and the same flip flops for five ;( (and i also have some black converse high-tops that i never wear unless i need to look 'nice’ whoops)

— more general

52. eating: i prefer raw foods to pretty much everything so poke bowls are my jam. i’m also a vegetarian who doesn’t eat fruit because what is self-care??

53. drinking: water. it’s important to stay hydrated

54. i’m about to watch: my surroundings that aren’t my phone

55. waiting for: this tag to be over. yikes

56. want: to pass english for ONE GODDAMN MARKING PERIOD before i graduate cos i haven’t since mp1 of ninth grade during which i got a 99 (now i have a 15 look how far i’ve come!!)

57. get married: i mean…

58. career: ah yes i’ll probably have one of those

— which is better

59. hugs or kisses: y'all mean in relationships? no pref. generally speaking though i almost always hate both

60. lips or eyes: no pref

61. shorter or taller: no pref…

62. older or younger: i don’t think about any of this shit i am so confused!!

63. nice arms or stomach: what constitutes an arm or stomach being nice?

64. hookup or relationships: labels ew neither is good

65. troublemaker or hesitant: somehow i’m both. like i’m loud as fuck and kind of obnoxious and audacious but i also have 9.9/10 self-control. so like i would be cool with either type of person

— have you ever

66. kissed a stranger: i hope not

67. drank hard liquor: hecc no

68. turned someone down: i thought i was gonna have to but that never happened WHEW

69. sex on first date: what is this “sex” you speak of? what is a “date”?

70: broken someone’s heart: i hope not! except hearts are kinda squishy so like i probably haven’t

71. had your heart broken: no although my heart rate’s so high i fear it will explode one of these days

72. been arrested: so far, no

73. cried when someone died: :((( chris cornell. i was lookin up soundgarden on google to find tour dates near where my uncle lives and then i saw it and i was like 'no. nononono. nonononononononono.’ then i let one tear escape from the ducts in my eyes before going into denial river. (aren’t i so fuckin clever 😤😤😤)

i also cried during a tribute to chester bennington at a muse concert if that counts

74. fallen for a friend: once again ew labels but y'all should know by now that i HAVE and i’m STILL falling ;(

— do you believe in

75. yourself: i have no concept of anything in existence and this tag has made me realise that. whoops

76. miracles: i could ramble about this one but i don’t have the time

77. love at first sight: dunno, but i will say that when i met my best friend i knew i was going to love him from how he acted and what his sense of humour is like. he’s so unique really like you can TELL he’s his own person and he owns it without trying to

78. santa claus: yes but only cos i’m tryin to stay off the naughty list

79. angels: what is an angels

— misc

80. eye colour: this is a subject that has been widely debated so for now i’ll just say they’re either grey or green or both

81. best friend’s name: zeke

82. favourite movie: i have no concept of having a favorite movie unless it’s based on who it’s by so i’ll say my favorite pixar movie is wall-e for the sake of having something down for this question. otherwise it’s probs either memento or the imitation game.

83. favourite actor: myself 🤔

84. favourite cartoon: oh shit that’s too hard. my favs as a young child were tom and jerry and the first season of the pokémon anime and i guess my fav one that’s more 'mature’ is bojack horseman (although i’ve only seen half the first season lol)

85. favourite teacher’s name: my favorite is either nicole, hyungmin, rebecca, eileen, hayley, matt, kevin, or robert, but like…i hate picking cos that’s just unfair. so idrk

can’t tag rn but do this if you want to i guess

#i am a relatively uninteresting person #tag

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