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#also every blazed post I’ve seen has been really really annoying so
geffjoldblums · 2 years
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u will never catch me using the blaze function I will churn out my no note flop posts w pride
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foilfreak · 3 years
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4 Lords Raise Rose AU Ideas
Not a single person asked for this, but that other post where I talk about the 4 lords adopting Rose but still technically being terrible people got way more popular than I expected it to, so, with about 6 shots of tequila in my system and a terrible urge to spit my thoughts out for all the internet to see and judge, I’ve decided to make a follow up post. Here’s how I think the 4 lords would take care of Rose in the event they rebelled against Mother Miranda and decided to raise Rose as their own instead, but like under the cut after a little bit cuz i accidentally went way too fucking hard with this and I don’t want ppl to get mad at me for making them scroll for an hour to get past this post:
First and foremost, I think they’d do it in stages, and what I mean by this is that Rose would essentially be given to a specific Lord for some period of her life, like a couple years, and then when she was deemed old or strong or annoying enough, she’d be moved to a different lord for some period of time and so on and so forth. They would do this because a) they all live in different areas and have shit to do so it’s easier to have Rose live with one lord at a time and then the other lords can just go visit her there from time to time, rather than try to work out a weekly custody schedule which we all know Alcina and Karl would NEVER be able to agree on so let’s not even bother, and b) because each lord would have either some skill or set of knowledge that would make them the best for caring for Rose at that specific point in her life. This way, all the lords have a (somewhat) equal chance to be a part of Rose’s life and teach her something while she’s with them. So with all that in mind now, let’s get down to who would have Rose and at what point in her life.
1. Starting off with infant Rose, I think she’d end up with the Dimitrescu’s for the first few years of her life, and the reason why I think this is because... well, Alcina IS already a mother to 3 girls, and while we don’t know a terrible amount about Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela’s “upbringing” under Alcina, we can gleam and theorize from her notes that, despite their fully grown bodies, the girls could very well have started out with the mental and physical capabilities of infants, and thus needed to be cared for and brought up in a similar manner as infants or children until they reached a certain point where they could officially be considered adults in mentality and ability, not just in physical appearance. So with this in mind, it’s entirely possible that Alcina could have at least some vague idea of how to care for an infant child through her experiences with the bug sisters; perhaps there’s some gaps in her knowledge, but if nothing else I imagine Alcina would be an infant Rose’s best shot at surviving infancy if only because the other 3 are so incompetent on how to care for a baby that Alcina looks like an expert in comparison. Not to mention that, of the possible locations for an infant to be raised, I do genuinely think that castle Dimitrescu would be the safest place for Rose to be kept during this vulnerable part of her life. Not only that but if Alcina has actually come to care for Rose as though she were one of her own daughters, then she would absolutely spoil Rose rotten with all the nicest clothes and fanciest toys, things that a small infant wouldnt be able to appreciate but would show that she’s loved and cared for nonetheless, and don’t even get me started on the bug sisters, I could see them fawning over Rose for hours on end, playing with her, singing to her, telling her stories of all the man-things they’ve gotten to play with today, and so much more. Overall, Rose would just be the most spoiled and pampered little baby with the Dimitrescus and there’s no changing my mind about this. The only thing I’m struggling to wrap my head around is how they’d feed her, since I doubt a small infant would take very well to blood wine and human flesh. I suppose it wouldn’t be terribly outrageous for them to hire a wet nurse/nanny to care for Rose during the day while the other Dimitrescus go about their daily duties, and when Rose is finally old enough to be introduced to solid food (I.e. fried human flesh cubes) they could do what they always do and turn the nurse into wine too, I guess. It’s not a solid idea but it’s more plausible than anything else I thought of so it’ll work!
2. After spending about 3 years with the Dimitrescus, Rose would then be moved to the Beneviento house. Now, If u don’t know anything about 3 year olds, then you’re probably ignorant to the fact that they are some of the craftiest, sneakiest, and most coniving groups of people to exist on this planet. 3 year olds are masters at getting into and touching just about anything and everything u don’t want them to touch, and worst of all, u won’t realize what they’re doing until they’ve already done it and left a huge mess behind, so while the Dimitrescus love and adore Rose dearly, they know it’s sadly time to hand her over when they find her sitting on top of a pile of dead bodies playing with a metal scythe in the dungeons. Once Rose is dropped off at the Beneviento house, I imagine Donna is her usual stoic self the first few weeks Rose is with her. She’s not cold or distant necessarily, in fact she’s quite happy that it’s finally her turn with precious baby Rose, but Donna isn’t exactly known for being outwardly expressive herself (and even Angie isn’t being quite as forward as she normally is), so things are quiet and peaceful for the first little while that Rose is under her care. It’s not until Rose takes an interest in her doll Angie, and more importantly the things that Donna can do with Angie, that things really start getting fun. By the end of Rose’s first month in the Beneviento house she and Donna are the best of friends and often spend their days either playing dress up and make pretend with Donna’s extensive doll collection, or playing elaborate games of cat and mouse, where Donna will set up lots of puzzles throughout the house for Rose to find and solve (I.e. rose has to match her dress to the doll with the same one as her to find a map telling her which kitchen cabinet Donna hid the chocolate in, or something like that), but be careful little Rose, Angie has been trying to get her hands on that chocolate all day, and if u take too long, she’ll find the map first and eat all the chocolate without saving you a single piece. Just silly little puzzles with enough at stake to engage the mind of a curious 3 year old, but never enough to put rose in any actual danger. Donna is nothing if not a watchful caretaker, so she makes sure she has sight of Rose at all times, occasionally giving her a hint if she’s struggling, and perhaps occasionally making things harder if that day’s puzzle is proving too easy for her. Overall, Rose’s time with Donna, while not as grand and luxurious as the Dimitrescus, was still a fun and enriching experience for the young girl, and there’s nobody in this world who thinks that Donna’s scar is cool more than Rose.
3. After another 3 years with Donna, Rose is now 6 years old and officially far too good at puzzle solving for Donna to keep up with. No matter what she tries or how hard she makes it, Rose just keeps blazing through the puzzles at an almost alarming rate, making it clear that Rose is desperately in need of not only a change in scenery, but also a change in education, and this is where Salvatore finally comes in. After leaving the Beneviento house, I think the next logical place for Rose to stay would be with Salvatore, who, with lore hinting at him perhaps being a scholarly man of some kind, would basically act as her elementary school teacher throughout the duration of her stay. Now, to be fair, Rose could have gone to Heisenburg’s factory, but Heisenberg outright refused to take her and the other 3 lords decide that the factory is simply too dangerous for Rose rn, who thus far hasn’t shown any signs of being anything other than a normal human girl with no noticeable abilities (save for a smart mouth and a terrifying habit of popping up when least expected, a habit she mostly uses to mess with Heisenberg, much to his disdain and Lady Dimitrescu’s delight), so it is to the mutant fish man’s unimaginable delight that he is unanimously voted Roses next caretaker, and the one responsible for her basic education. Despite his initial excitement however, when Rose is finally dropped off at the windmills by Donna, Salvatore realizes that he’s not 100% sure what to do with Rose now that he has her. He’d like to get started on her education right away but at the same time he’s so fearful of Rose hating him because of his disgusting appearance that he kind of just... avoids her entirely at first. He’s never far away from the little girl and is always ready to jump to her rescue should she need it, but other than that Salvatore seldom allows himself to be seen for the first month that Rose is with him, the only sign of him still being around being the platefuls of food that mysteriously appear in Rose’s room 3 times a day, as well as the occasional shiny trinket Salvatore found and thought Rose would like. At first, rose doesn’t seem to mind being left entirely to her own devices, but after every stone, log, and rotting fish corpse within 5 miles of the lake has been turned over and thoroughly examined, Rose decides she’s had quite enough of her Uncle Sal ignoring her, prompting the headstrong little girl to go looking for him herself. She finds Salvatore hiding underneath a patch of floating algae not far away from where she was playing and all but demands that the mutant man come out of the water and give her something to do or she’d tell Mother on him. Salvatore, shocked by the small child’s fearlessly blunt request, hesitates, not wanting to frighten Rose, but ultimately relents, crawling out of the water and timidly suggesting that he teach her how to read and write. Rose quickly agrees, seeming totally unbothered by Salvatore’s grotesque appearance, and the two quickly move to the schoolroom that had been set up specifically for Rose, where Salvatore spends hours upon hours a day teaching Rose everything he knows, filling the little girl’s head up first with the basics, letters and words, then numbers and simple equations, followed later by historical dates and time periods, algebraic formulas, and classic literature analysis, then biology, chemistry, physics, astrology, calculus, ecology, and so much more. Basically, anything there is to know, Salvatore knows at least something about it and he’ll make sure that Rose knows about it too. In the 3 years Rose spends with Salvatore she goes from already sharp as a whip, to being smarter than most adults even, and Salvatore takes immense pride in how intelligent and knowledgable Rose becomes thanks to his surprisingly effective teaching style. Overall, as a caretaker, Salvatore is pretty weird and doubts himself a lot, but Rose thinks he’s funny and loves learning from him so they get along very well and she loves him very dearly! He probs teaches her to swim and fish too.
4. So another 3 years come and go with incredible speed, and its with great sadness on Salvatore’s part that Heisenberg finally comes banging on the fish man’s door, all but demanding that he now be given his turn with Rose. Now, personally, I can see several different arguments being raised by the other 3 lords over why its a terrible idea to let a 9 year old anywhere near Heisenberg, much less be given into his care fully. After about 9 years of seeing his siblings paling around with the constantly growing child, and looking like theyre having the time of their lives all the while, however, Karl decides that perhaps there’s more to this little girl than he originally thought, and, with his interest now piqued (or at the very least looking forward to pissing the other 3 off for entertainment purposes), that its only fair that he be given a turn with her now too, seeing as how he’s the only one who hasn’t been given the chance to be her caretaker yet. This naturally does NOT go over well with the other 3 lords. Alcina all but threatens to kill Karl should he step so much as within 10 ft of Rose, while Donna pipes up and demands to know what his sudden interest in Rose is. Even Salvatore, who is quick to flinch away from direct conflict, goes as far as to harshly point out the plethora of times Karl had outright denied their previous attempts to get him to engage with Rose, so why on earth would they hand her over to him now when he’s previously shown to have absolutely no interest in her? After a long spout of yelling between the 4 siblings, an agreement is reached, wherein Rose herself will be given the chance to decide whether she wants to go with Heisenberg, or whether she’ll return to one of the other 3 lords for the time being. It is to Alcina, Donna, and Salvatore’s absolute horror however, that Rose enthusiastically agrees to go with her Uncle Karl to live in his factory, and with the deal already set, the other lords can do nothing to stop her from going. The trip to drop off Rose at heisenberg’s factory is a long and arduous one, especially for Salvatore, who sobs the whole way there about Rose forgetting about him despite the young girl’s insistence that she’d visit. The first thing Karl does after officially having Rose handed over to him, is give her an extensive list of all the places in the factory in which she is under no circumstances permitted to enter without his permission (which basically only leaves the control room and the old storage closet that acts as her bedroom as viable places for Rose to go and explore). The second thing Karl does is dump her in her new storage closet bedroom and then hightail it for his workshop to work on whatever sick and twisted amalgamation he’s got cooked up this time around. At first, Rose isn’t terribly bothered by this, since she’s used to having something of an “adjustment period” when she’s with a new caretaker, but unfortunately for her, this adjustment period lasts a hell of a lot longer than the others did, and by the time 3 months of almost no meaningful contact with Karl, Rose decides to take matters into her own hands and ascends into the depths of the factory despite the express orders not to do so. Now, going back to the idea that the 4 lords are still pretty terrible people, I doubt Rose has been kept ignorant to the less savory aspects of her caretaker’s lives, and tbh she probably doesn’t think anything of the fact that the Dimitrescus makes wine out of the blood of virgin women or that Salvatore still does cadou experiments (and had her help on occasion), but I imagine even Rose would find the projects Karl works on to be at least a little
4, cont. gruesome and horrifying in nature, especially since Heisenberg is the one she knows the least about. However, instead of turning Rose away from Heisenberg, these terrifying metal creatures she sees locked up only spark her already insatiable curiosity, and by the time she finally tracks Karl down, Rose is all but trembling to learn more about this horrifyingly fascinating metal world. Unfortunately, Karl is not nearly as happy to see Rose as Rose is to see him, and the engineer all but grabs Rose by the scruff of her neck and drags her back up to the control room, yelling and screaming at her all the while about how she was explicitly instructed not to enter these parts of the factory without his permission. Needless to say that Rose does not enjoy this treatment and immediately lashes out, half out of anger and half out of confusion as to why Karl was treating her like this. He was the one who wanted her here in the first place, so why the hell was he just ignoring her now? It didn’t make any sense and it was starting to piss Rose off, so naturally the only thing left for her to do in order to solve this complicated situation would be to continue to disobey Karl until he either gave up and sent her back to one of the other lords, or finally payed some damn attention to her for once. So that’s exactly what she did. Every single day Rose left her room (which Karl kept telling himself he needed to put a lock on, but never did cuz he’s an idiot) and descended down into the depths of the factory looking for something ogle at or tinker with, and every single day Karl would track her down wherever she’d managed to get to and throw her back upstairs threatening to feed her to the lycans if she did it again. This incredibly frustrating cycle continued on for the better part of the next month or so, finally coming to a head when Rose managed to wander into the part of the factory where the... less than successful experiments got put whenever Karl doesn’t have any further use for them but is feeling too lazy to kill them off himself. Long story short, Rose runs into a Sturm that chases her around the factory, causing all manner of mayhem and destruction, and would have torn her to ribbons had it not been for Karl, who jumped in at the last second and was able to fend the damn thing off long enough for Rose to get the ever living fuck out and back up to the control room where it’s safe. There’s a lot of loud noises and explosions coming from deep within the factory that last for what feels like an eternity, but Rose doesn’t dare venture out again until everything has gone eerily quiet and a deep sense of worry has settled in the pit of her stomach over what had become of her latest caretaker. Turns out the Sturm had recognized its creator and, after watching its initial prey escape because of said creator, quickly decided that it fucking hated Karl with every fiber of its being and wanted him dead if it was the last thing it’s propellers did. Now, we all know that Karl is a big strong boy who’s more than capable of handling his own creations and taking down strong enemies, but the Sturm is a creation that even he struggles to control on good days and today is decidedly not a good day so not only does Karl not have the slightest bit of control over the death machine trying to kill him, but its also a lot stronger than Karl initially thought and apparently not picky about the method which causes Karl’s death, which is evidenced by the nearly dead Sturm ramming itself into a power generator as a final act of defiance and nearly blowing up the whole factory and everybody inside. Heisenberg is able to contain the explosion somehow but not without considerable damage to himself first. Rose is, naturally, quite horrified to find Karl passed out in the elevator that had taken him up from the lower levels of the factory where the explosion was, skin burnt nearly to a crisp in certain areas and blood pooling from just about every part of him, and immediately heads over to try and help her injured caretaker.
4, cont. again cuz I physically can’t stop myself. Now, I imagine that any normal 9 year old probably wouldnt be able to handle this sort of situation in any meaningful way, but i think we can all agree that Rose is the furthest thing from normal (especially considering who raised her) and has probably seen enough blood and gore to not be terribly freaked out by it, but this is where things get a little speculative because we don’t know what Rose’s powers are exactly but we do know from the final cutscene that she does have them, perhaps even a plethora of abilities, and I like to think that some of those powers are related to Ethan’s superhuman healing capabilities, but unlike Ethan however, who from what we’ve seen could only heal himself, Rose can actually heal other people (tho this isn’t something she’s aware of at this point in time). The second the elevator door opens to reveal, what looks to be, a half-dead Karl slumped over in the corner, Rose panics and runs to him, doing everything she can think of save for maybe grabbing him by the collar or slapping him across the face, to try and get Karl to wake up, except nothing works, he wont wake up no matter how hard Rose tries and i imagine this must be incredibly distressing for Rose who never intended for something like this to happen or for her caretaker to die because he had to protect her even tho he told her not to go down there because its dangerous and anything down there WOULD kill her if given the opportunity. Anyways Rose is now full on sobbing on top of Karl like only a 9 year old who just discovered that her actions have consequences can, but unbeknownst to her (and technically Karl cuz he’s a little busy bleeding out all over the floor) Karl’s wounds are slowly beginning to close, the burns on his face and hands shift from a bright red to a dark brown before crusting over and flaking off, and even his breathing, which had been labored and inconsistent at first, began to level out slightly. Karl woke up not long after that and was surprised to find that a) he was still alive, which was cool, b) he was injured but not in indescribable pain, also cool, and c) there was a literal sobbing child all but sitting on top of him, which is definitely not something Karl was expecting but he supposed he’s been met with worse things upon waking up after almost dying so why question it. After taking a moment to gather their bearings, the two return to the safer parts of the factory to rest and recover and for the most part this little incident of their’s goes largely unspoken, with Rose not exactly in the mood to talk about how her disobedience nearly got herself and Karl killed, and Karl being too fucking tired to go after her about it, especially since she seems to have learned her lesson. The only downside to this whole thing is that now Karl has a busted up fuckin leg thats gonna take an eternity to heal even for him, and with so much work to still do he’s more or less forced to drag Rose around the factory and use her like the annoying assistant he never wanted (except he did want her, thats how this whole fucking mess started, you lug), except that Rose, who is more than used to playing lab assistant from her time with Salvatore, quickly proves to be a rather capable and handy person to have around, if only because she knows the difference between a philips and a flathead screwdriver even better than he does. An amicable, if still slightly awkward peace settles over Heisenberg’s factory once Karl starts actively engaging with Rose and giving her something to do on a daily basis, even if its just standing around watching him work and occasionally having her questions about what he’s doing answered. It doesn’t take very long after that for Karl to begin realizing that perhaps throwing a huge tantrum to get Rose to come here only to ditch her upstairs by herself for 3 months might not have been the smartest (or most considerate) thing he’s ever done, and even goes as far as to (kinda) apologize to Rose for being such a dick to her since she arrived.
4, last one i swear. Rose forgives him, though not before adding that she already knew he was an asshole from Alcina, which earns her a halfhearted swipe from Karl that Rose easily dodges with a childish giggle. From that point on their relationship improves astronomically as Karl finally gives in and teaches Rose about about engineering and everything else that goes into making the metal horrors that he’s known for. Karl is shocked at how quickly Rose picks up on the trade, getting to the point where Karl wonders if he should start giving Rose her own projects to work on, but quickly rolls his eyes and groans when he remember that Salvatore was the one responsible for her education up until this point, the mere thought of having to give compliments to that “moronic freak” for giving Rose such a good educational foundation makes him want to vomit despite how secretly impressed he is. Overall, Rose’s time with Heisenberg starts out shaky, very shaky even, but after a bit of disaster and some swallowing of the pride on Karl’s part, they end up growing quite close and have a nice fun Uncle and martass Neice dynamic. They make a good team and Karl does genuinely enjoy having a little assistant around to help him with his projects, even if Rose can sound a bit too much like Alcina on some days for his liking.
5. 3 more years come and go and now Rose is a strong and healthy 12 years old, perhaps riddled with a few more scars and smearings of ash and motor oil across her skin than when she first arrived but still strong and capable nonetheless. Going back to that first statement however, this of course means that it’s time for the other 3 lords to come banging on Karl’s door for a change, all but demanding that Rose be handed back over to them. Karl of course refuses, telling them all to fuck off and that Rose didn’t want a leave the factory, so upon realization that all 4 lords were gathered here with the intention of taking Rose back to live with them indefinitely, a fight immediately breaks out between the 4 siblings, as each one makes their case as to why Rose should be returned to them and not the other 3, which of course none of the 4 lords can come to an agreement about because they ALL want Rose to stay with them. So after another long and pointlessly arduous argument, Alcina finally breaks, proclaiming that they’d be here for all eternity of they didn’t make a decision now, and that, like the first time the 4 siblings argued over whether Rose should go with Heisenberg or return to one of the previous lords, Rose would be the one to decide which of her four caretakers she would return to. The agreement is made reluctantly, mostly on the part of Salvatore, Donna, and Heisenberg, but there was seemingly no other way for them to come to a decision, so it would unfortunately have to be up to Rose to decide which of her 4 caretakers she wants to stay with permanently. Rose is quickly brought before the 4 lords and explained the situation, before being given some time to herself to think and make her final decision. A tense and uneasy silence falls over the 4 lords as they wait for the little girl, who they had shown an uncharacteristic amount of mercy and time and devotion and love in the 12 years since Mother Miranda had brought her to the village with the intention of using her to revive an already lost and long-gone baby that she never would have gotten back no matter how hard she tried. Although they refused to admit it to one another, the lords all secretly knew that Rose had wormed her way into each of their cold, dead hearts, reviving an aspect of their humanity that they’d all thought had been lost ages ago. Rose came to the village bringing with her a wave of death and destruction, and yet throughout her childhood she has brought them nothing but light and life, illuminating their previously dark and desolate existences. The 4 lords loved their Rose very dearly and desperately wanted her to be happy, yet each of them possesses a dark and selfish desire to have Rose pick them over the other 3, to come and live with them forever and fill the hole deep inside them that they never knew needed filling. After a short while, Rose comes back out and stands before her 4 beloved caretakers, looking around nervously as she picks at her fingernails. The silence is thick and heavy as the 4 lords stare at the young girl, waiting with bated breaths for her to give her final verdict. Rose continues to say nothing as tears begin to flow from her eyes, sliding down her cheeks in thick streams as the girl begins to sob, dropping her head and clenching her dress. The 4 lords look between one another in confusion, unsure of what to do with this sudden burst of tears. Rose tearfully admits that she can’t and doesn’t want to choose which of the 4 lords she wants to live with permanently because she loves them all very much and wants to be able to see and live with all of them, like they’ve done thus far. Although the lords detest the idea of having to share Rose with anyone, they reluctantly come to an agreement for the girl’s sake, deciding that they would continue with the arrangement they’ve had thus far, only that Rose would switch between caretakers every 3 months instead of every 3 years, giving rose plenty of opportunities to see each of her caretakers just like she wanted. From then on, Rose continues to live her life
5, cont. growing up and learning more and more from each of her beloved caretakers. Although Rose would likely never know what a normal life looks like, living with 4 criminally insane monsters in the remote mountain village in Romania, it would be impossible to say that she wouldn’t have a happy life despite that. Perhaps its because the girl simply doesn’t know any better, so she doesn’t have the ability to see just how messed up her life and her 4 caretakers really are, but i imagine that Rose probably wouldn’t care very much to learn even if she had the opportunity. She’s a happy little girl living a strange but enjoyable life with the only family she’ll ever need. What more could she possibly ask for?
6. As for how Mother Miranda would play into this whole scenario I’ve just drunkenly spat out, im honestly not 100% sure. Ive seen some people suggesting that MM just kinda chills and lets the lords do what they want with Rose, but tbh I honestly don’t see that happening in this universe. MM would still have been just as crazy and driven to get Eva back as she was in canon, so i doubt she’d willingly standby and let her “false children” take away her one shot of getting her real child back simply because they didn’t want to hurt her, i just don’t personally see that happening. The two most likely scenarios i can come up with is that the Lords either banded together and look Miranda on together, their combined forces being enough to take her down and kill her, OR, Ethan is the one to take down MM like he did in canon but he passes out before he can get to rose, giving the lords (who he hadn’t ended up killing but just escaping from i guess) the opportunity to slide in, grab rose, and hightail it out of there, leaving Ethan’s body to be retrieved by Chris, who, due to not seeing or hearing Rose anywhere, believes that Rose must have been accidentally killed along with MM, which he later tells to Ethan and Mia. Regardless of how MM gets taken out of the picture (or if she’s given room to potentially come back later), the 4 lords retreat with Rose and begin the whole cycle I explained up above, but i did want to briefly address how I saw MM fitting into all of this since she is a vital part of the original story and the biggest obstacle to the lords having anything to do with Rose.
Anyways, that was so much longer than I intended it to be but I had so much fun with it just because it gave me the opportunity to spit some fun ideas and potential plot points out about this cool AU that I like and hope someone does SOMETHING with, please god someone do it, I’d do it myself but i have enough projects at the moment unfortunately. If you managed to make it all the way to the bottom, thank you for reading all of that, I appreciate it, and I hope you enjoyed at least some parts of this, and maybe even agree with some of the things I said. Feel free to leave your own ideas in the comments, I’d love to read them and hopefully if enough people like this maybe i will actually do something with it. Who knows? I certainly dont. Anyways thank you for reading all this, i hope you have a great day, and maybe ill see you around in another post. Bye!!! <3
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willow-salix · 3 years
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This is going to be out of the blue and there's no need for a response to it, but I guess I feel like some of you deserve to get a peek behind my armour.
Facebook just gave me a memory from 7 years ago, showing me an album that I'd rather not see quite honestly, but you know when you're just drawn in even though you know it's against your better judgement? Yep, that was me just now.
The album is full of screenshots of the absolute shit ton of crap that I've had on the Internet over the years.
I was in the RP world for ten years, and in that time I was verbally and mentally attacked a lot, I was mentally abused, I was stalked, I was blamed for things I never did, I was used as a scapegoat for things I never did. I was the victim of unwarranted attacks that had my accounts deleted by fb so that I lost YEARS of writing.
I got my heart broken over and over again by people that claimed tk be my friends, people that claimed to love me but that were all too happy to dump me the second a better option came along. People that I sat up all night with, that I lost sleep over, that I went out of my way to help and support.
Some of them lied to me so throughly that they lied about who they were, where they lived, their job, their gender, their nationality, what other characters /accounts they had and everything else you could think of for over TWO years.
I've had one that claimed to be my best friend, sit on my couch, my actual couch, in my house and lie to my face. Lie to me and his long term partner and mother of his three kids that he wasnt cheating with a cheap bitch he met online (the third person he'd done it with I found out after) I only found out about her when she messaged me to tell me.
I stopped talking to him, after their friends started a smear campaign against me, and even then EVEN THEN, I talked it out and started talking to him again. But he turned it around and started blaming me and guilt tripping me again. So I cut him off. He stalked me. Like messaging my friend, posting things to me (actual letters through the mail) making new accounts to message me, buying new phone sims to call me. This was 6 years ago. He called me at the start of lockdown and left a message on my voicemail.
This man mentally abused me. He'd force me to talk to him when I had a problem and then he'd not like what I said, so he'd go silent and ignore me for up to three days, to the point that I'd worked myself up so much that I was apologising, that I was taking the blame for having feelings, only when he got that would he talk to me.
He was an alcoholic who worked in care if you can believe that, I supported him through him getting sober again, he still did all that to me.
I gave up on role play and let my character, my home, the one place I felt comfortable and safe, up. And I didn't go back for two years. I got talked around by someone, they made promises, I stupidly fell for it.
I then got used to bring their character back and to help them sort out storylines. I was then told they didn't want to work with me anymore because they had too much going on in their personal life, they blocked me and I then got screenshots that that had another writing partner already.
That broke me. That broke me and fandom and people and everything really.
I vowed never to go back.
Then I stumbled upon you lot. And I told myself not to get involved, not to start talking to anyone, not to start trusting again. Now look! Now bloody look!
I'm what... 500k + in a story that was never meant to be, I'm actually writing and collabing with people again and I have a character that I adore and feel just as comfortable with... And that is fucking scary.
It's sooooo scary. Like terrifying scary to me.
Because I'm having to trust again. Selene is like public property now, and I love how much everyone has accepted and adopted her and how they use her and write her too, that warms this cold, dead, suspicious heart of mine.
Because I can honestly say that Selene and John saved me and my sanity.
I am quite a sociable person, I love to chat to people and if I'm your friend I will go out of my way to do my best for you, to be there for you and to support you in every way I can. But I know I can be used and I dotn always see the bad in people. So I cut myself off and refused to allow myself to make friends again.
I was writing my novels and that was it. No interaction, no fun really. Then this loud mouthed witch blazed into my head, took one look at the spaceman and said "that one, he's mine, wrap him up I'll take him to go" and here she is.
They made writing fun again, they made it spontaneous and exciting, I suddenly had ideas again, people to talk to about the characters I love and it was hard. Because it was also good.
I had to trust the process, trust Selene.
But I'm also so wary. I'm wary that I'm gonna piss people off, that I'm going to annoy people with her and that people hate her. I know people don't like OCs' and I get major anxiety about that.
I've never had this amount of anxiety over stories before, never. Not my rp, not my novels, not the ones I did for class or competitions, nothing. This is singularly the most stressful writing I've ever done. Because these boys, they mean the world to me, they always have. They have always been my happy place since I was 5/6, they have always been my heart and home.
The problems I had in rp made me not like the books that I loved, the fandom I was in, because of peoples interpretations of the characters, the way they played them and the fact that they were so nasty to me. And I really really don't want that to happen here.
A few weeks ago I noticed that an account had bene set up that was clearly a piss take of me, of this account. And all the old fears and anxiety came rushing back. I instantly went running to Squiddy and Olliepig and basically tumbled around the group chat in a mess for a few minutes before I calmed down and realised what was going on and had a guess at who it could be.
But it's scary. Because I've been stalked, I've been badmouthed, I've had people make fake accounts of me to cause trouble, and it weighs on me.
Willow Salix is my author name, I had to choose that because my Pagan name (which I was writing under and still do on ff and a03) was too well known and my stalkers were reporting it every time I made a new account.
I had to come to love this name, come to see it as myself (willow is my actual real name btw) and feel comfortable with it. It's taken a long time, I've built my brand from it. I have five novels out under it. And to think of someone having an account with even a parody of that name gave me all sorts of chills.
I'm OK now, but yeah. Fun times.
So I guess... I just want people to talk to me. And I don't mean shine by ego lol, I mean that if I ever do anything to piss you off. If I ever say anything you don't like. If I ever annoy you with Selene or anything at all, PLEASE just come and talk to me.
I might put on a tough mask, and in general I am pretty hardy, but I'm a typical cancerian, hard outer shell, squishy inside.
Selene is my sanity in a home life that is far from easy, I won't go into major details but disabled husband, I'm a full time carer, he's majorly depressed and it's just... Yeah. Anyway, she's my refuge, she's my escape right now.
Actually making a side blog for her took so much guts, to allow her free rein to speak and act is scary as heck for me. Because I've been there and vowed to never go back.
The only good thing I took out of all my years of rp, apart from being able to make up a story pretty much on the spot, spontaneous replies, dialogue skills and character development, is my best friend in all the world @endellionaeternus who has seen it all and stuck by me through it all.
I have no real idea why I just typed all this, I guess I needed people to see where I'm coming from, and why Selene exists.
Yeah...
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Note
✨Q
Your thoughts on Mel Brooks movies? Any of them-
The Producers (1967):
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Genuinely one of my favorite movies of all time.  I’ve watched it more times then I’d like to admit.  Gene Wilder is seriously so good in this and remake is a shame by comparison.  (Yes, I know the live show on Broadways is suppose to be better, but I’ve never seen it so, there’s that). My jaw literally hit the floor the first time I watched “Spring Time for Hitler”.  The closest equivalent I can name is the montage at the start of JoJo Rabbit (2019) when they edit images from Triumph of the Will to a German translation to the Beatles’ “I Wanna Hold Your Hand”.  It was breath taking.
Blazing Saddles (1974):
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I literally fell out of my chair and rolled on the floor laughing when I first saw this movie.  (If you’re curious, it was right when the Waco Kid said, “little bastard shot me in the ass”.)  It’s seriously one of the most biting satires on race ever written and still holds up today.  That being said, I get really, really annoyed with people when they say that “nobody can make a movie like Blazing Saddles anymore”.  These people clearly don’t understand that comedy is the quickest to age and just because you label your bad jokes as “satire” it doesn’t make it good.
Please watch this video by Lindsay Ellis explaining my thoughts in a much or articulate way then I ever could.
https://youtu.be/62cPPSyoQkE
youtube
Young Frankenstein (1974):
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I watch it every year around Halloween.  The best films Mel Brooks made was when he worked with Gene Wilder and especially when Wilder did most if not all of the writing.  Mel Brooks’ approach to comedy is throwing everything at the wall and seeing what sticks, Wilder’s is more character based and when combined they are a forced to be reckoned with. Wilder gives one of my favorite performances from him, besides Willy Wonka.  Madaline Kahn is a delight and the use of the original sets its such a treat.  I cannot emphasis how much I love this movie.  (Also check out all the behind the scenes special features of the DVD, they’re great).
Silent Movie (1976):
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Admittedly, I’ve only seen this once.  It was funny, but nothing to write home about.  Now that I’ve seen more silent films, I might get more out of it, but I think there’s a reason why it’s not really talked about anymore.
High Anxiety (1977):
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Again, only saw this once.  Fine as a parody of Hitchcock, but not much going on behind the eyes.  The only gag I can remember is when they keep blowing up and enhancing the photograph.
Spaceballs (1987):
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My favorite of Brooks’ post Young Frankenstein work.  Everybody has theirs and this is mine.  I think I appreciate this one more because there was an actually story to follow, and I just got more of the gags since I’ve always been a sci-fi nerd.  Plus, it has the effortlessly funny Rick Moranis and John Candy.  They seriously steal the show whenever they’re on screen.  More of the jokes just land for me, and while it’s still just a straight parody, I do end up caring at least a little about Lone Starr. This is old school poking fun at the new school with no ill will in either direction.
Robin Hood: Men in Tights (1993):
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Still fun, but if giving the choice to watch Men in Tights or Spaceballs, I’ll choose Spaceballs. I do appreciate Cary Elwis and after seeing Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, I get more of the gags, but not as many land for me. This a purely an, I just don’t find it funny thing as there is nothing wrong with the story or acting or anything else.  I just didn’t laugh as often as I had with his others.
Dracula: Dead and Loving It (1995):
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Just not good.  I don’t think he understand the horror genre as much as he does Westerns or even Sci-Fi.  Watch What We Do in the Shadows, and you’ll have a better time.
The rest I haven’t seen.
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hazytaezy · 4 years
Text
to a tea. (m) ksj
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pairing: jin x reader
word count: 3,923 (not proofread because I’ve been sitting on this fic for two fucking months and I can’t wait any longer bsbdfsbdkj. jin in this universe has been consuming mY LIFE.)
genre: doorman jin, really good friends au, pwp (kinda cause I just build a story around (y/n) finally nailing jin lmao), so that being said smuttiness does ensue!!!, humor because once again I do think I am a comedian
warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, language,
“jin is just your doorman. but he’s also your best friend. and you also want to fuck him.”
The giant spinning door leading into your apartment building was both a gift and a curse. A gift because most people found it too complicated and just decided to not come in. Solicitors, guests, bad dates…the list goes on. A curse because, we because of right now. You’re stood staring at the mound of groceries that had just fallen moments ago from your hands. A lone apple still rolling and rolling farther away into the abyss of the front lobby.
Where the hell was Jin?
Lately, when you needed him most, he was no where to be found. In fact, you felt like he was playing opposites because he actually decided to be there during the most inopportune times. Such as a few weeks ago, when you stumbled in with your blind date. Tongues dancing and hands roaming. You felt yourself press against the front desk and was allllllllmost slipping into a blissful euphoria when you heard a throat clearing. There he was, in all his glory. Jin- the doorman. He peered up at your from his seated position and he didn’t have to say a word, but the smug look across his face told you enough. You were never going to hear the end of it. Ever. It took you a full week and a dozen batches of homemade brownies to convince him to stop teasing you.
The bell on the elevator chimed as you were stuffing stray produce back into your bags. Jin got off, arm linked with Miss Roosevelt’s, grinning down at the elderly woman. She had been living in this building since it was developed in 1945 and made fast friends with everyone who had lived there. You had been over to her apartment many times. Mostly, because the mailman was always confusing her apartment for yours. So, it became a weekly ritual to deliver the swapped mail to each other.
Jin carefully removed his arm from hers and pushed the front door wide open. A strong gust of autumn wind blew through the front lobby. Just cold enough to pull tears from your eyes. You watched as he safely tucked her into a cab and sent her off, waving goodbye.
“You know, you do such nice things, so it makes it hard for me to hate you.” Once he had re-entered the lobby you felt the need to share that thought in your mind. Choosing to channel all of your annoyance in re-bagging your groceries.
“Good evening to you too, (y/n).” He jogged towards the other side of his desk and picked up the apple that was somehow still rolling around everywhere as if it had a mind of its own.
“I would just like to remind you that you are my doorman too. Thank you very much!” Reaching out, you tried to snatch the apple from his grasp. But now he was holding it high over his head. Gazing down at you in enjoyment.
This mood of yours- it was always his favorite. Mostly because of the way you would puff your cheeks out when you got annoyed. It was cute. He always wondered to himself how someone so small could be filled with so much fire.
After running the apple across the breast of his suit jacket, he took a satisfying bite, pieces of it peeking through his smile. “How did you know I liked honey crisps?”
“Lucky guess.” You huffed out. The bags were finally hooked over your shoulders, but you didn’t remember them being this heavy on the way out from the store. And definitely not on the subway. And the four blocks you had to walk to get here.
“Give me those bags.” Jin reached out and pulled them away from your grip. You would usually refuse any additional help from him. After all, he was just the doorman. He was only supposed to open doors and greet you from the lobby. That was it. No where in his job description did it say that he would help elderly ladies to their taxi’s or carry groceries up to apartments. That was just Jin being Jin. But if you really stopped and thought about it. You were much past that point anyways. He had started working at the building just around the same time that you moved in a few years ago. A few “good evening’s” blossomed into a friendship that you would be devastated not to have. He was your best friend. And you practically spent every night with him at his desk talking about your days.
“My hero.” You stuck your tongue out at him as you pushed your floor’s button.
“Don’t forget it either.” He smirked and turned to rest against the railing of the golden elevator.
…………………………………………………………..
To put it in the nicest way possible, it was a shit day. You didn’t see any other way to describe it.
When you came through the door, Jin was luckily speaking with another tenant so he didn’t get to see your puffy eyes and reddened face. Who are you kidding anyways. The fact that you are home early would raise some questions. And after a few hours locked in your apartment, as if on cue, those very questions came.
You wanted to ignore the incessant buzzing of your intercom, but it had been going on for a solid five minutes now.
“What!” You pressed the talk button until your finger turned white. It was meant to come out as annoyed, but it had been hours since you had gotten up off of the couch and you had maybe dozed off a few times. So, it came out as more of a meek and measly statement.
“Come downstairs. I have tea.” The intercom popped and you glanced down at your current state. When you had gotten in the door, you immediately stripped yourself of your bleak work clothes and jumped into the matching kitten pajama set your Mom had gotten you last Christmas.
Jin could be demanding. Who did he think he was talking to? Saying “come down.” And “I have tea.” Knowing full and damn well you would march yourself right down there.
When the elevator doors popped open, he let out a long string of giggles and eventually let himself full on belly laugh. “For your information,” you grabbed one of the mugs he was holding “this is Louis Vuitton.” You pointed towards the gold kittens scattered along your pants.
“No it isn’t.” He leaned back in his chair and lightly blew on the lip of his mug. Smirk blazing as hot as his Earl Grey.
“It could be.” You perched yourself on the top of the front desk and glared down at him over mug.
“So…are you going to tell me why you busted through the doors frazzled this afternoon or am I going to have to bribe you with more tea?”
Your thumb ran over the handle of the mug, catching a drop of tea running down the side. “Well, I was fired so…”
“Oh.” Jin sat up straighter in his chair and began to be a bumbling idiot.
“I’m sorry.”
“Uh..I..that’s awful.”
“What can I…I mean like, is there anything I can do?”
You let yourself crack a smile as you gazed down at him. “Wow Jin, this is the first time I’ve ever seen you tongue tied.”
The first time I’ve ever let you see me this way, Jin thought.
“But really. It’s okay. It wasn’t anything I did. It was budgetary. They couldn’t afford me anymore.” Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as Jin’s hand hesitantly moved towards your own. When you finally looked down at your own, he latched his hand on top of yours and let his fingers trace over your knuckles.
Maybe it was the way he touched you, and it wasn’t something you two did often, but you felt something like a surge go through your body. And so that made you want to reach out and touch his face.
So you did.
And he let you.
He got up to stand and wrapped his arms around you, pulling your face to rest against his head. From the few hugs that you and Jin have shared, this one was becoming your favorite. He smelled like a bookstore, but in the best way possible. New pages, fresh ink. It was one you wouldn’t forget. And the small ministrations he would do when he hugged. The tiny movements of his fingers. The gentle humming. You just wanted to curl up and tuck yourself into the pocket of his jacket.
When you both pulled away, he dropped his hands down to rest next to your thighs on the marble desk. You let your eyes drop down to his lips and your mind wondered for a fleeting moment. It’s not like you haven’t ever thought about kissing him, but this time it was something greater. Almost like if you did, it would magically make all of your problems go away. You thought you might be going crazy. I mean there wasn’t a single chance that he was possibly leaning into you.
So when you hopped off his desk, you peered down at your hands and they were shaking. You stuffed them into your hair to keep them busy. “I’m, uhh, I’m gonna go back up. Bye.” You repeatedly hit the up arrow on the elevator and stepped inside. You jammed the door close button as you watched Jin’s silent frame slide away.
…………………………………………
Well. What now.
You can’t go downstairs. He will be there. And this is what? Your third consecutive day inside.
If your calculations were correct, Jin was up for a night off. And you were never wrong about these things. You couldn’t be. That night was tonight. He usually took an evening off and came back to his post and started a shift for the next day at 12 midnight. This would give you plenty of time to go to the grocery and restock at the tea shop.
At this point, you were two bites away from turning into a pop tart. Seeing as how that’s all you had left from your last grocery visit.
Drops of water kept falling from your hair and hitting the top of your foot. You were too broke to have your groceries delivered, but too scared to go out and get them yourself. You had half a mind to climb down the first escape in your robe. Actually… that wasn’t such a bad idea.
You had your window pulled open, leg rising to step out into the cold city air, when you heard knocks at your door.
Through the peephole you could make out Jin’s perfect head.
What the hell was he doing here?
Upon further inspection, he was not dressed in his usual uniform. More casual. Plus a leather jacket. One that made your eyes linger across his shoulders for longer than they should have.
Before you could even get the door fully open, he was speaking. “Hi. I, umm, I got these.” He lifted four grocery bags that were wrapped around his hands. He also had a teapot tucked underneath his left arm. Wordlessly, you moved to the side, signaling him to come in.
“I have a teapot you know.”
Jin scoffed as he set the groceries on your kitchen table. “You have a glorified water warmer. And it only makes one cups worth of water. You are weak if you brew water for tea and only drink one cup.”
You hadn’t moved from your front hallway. You were too busy taking in Jin’s movements. He carefully took out each ingredient from the bag. You would help him, but your feet felt like they were cemented to the ground.
“Where are your cutting boards?” He turned to face you.
“What?”
“Your curling boards?” He had a smirk creeping up on his face. You wanted to reach out and press your fingers in an action to swipe it away.
“No, I know what you said. But what are you doing? Why are you here Jin?”
He breathed in deep. And you wanted so badly to screw your eyes shut, but you couldn’t pull them away from his frame. In all honesty, you wanted to know every single detail about his days since the last time you saw him. But delving into that conversation would lead you to wonder if he had been thinking about you too these past few days. And was his mind spinning every time he thought of you like yours was with him. Was he playing a round of kickboxing with his stomach when he saw something that reminded him of you? Because you sure were. Every single minute of your days has been Jin. And only Jin.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay. Look, you ran off so fast the other night. And then I didn’t see you for a million years after that. I just wanted to make sure that everything was okay.” Until that moment, it hadn’t occurred to you how Jin felt in that moment on that night. Being left alone sitting at the front desk.
You didn’t know how many rounds of jenga you had been playing, but what you did know is that you were about to win. By the look of Jin’s face, he already knew his fate as well. The jenga blocks came crashing down and a few sprinkled into your empty bowls from dinner. After finally showing Jin where your cutting board was, he proceeded to make what you would call probably the best meal you’ve ever had in your life.
You pulled yourself up onto the couch as he called for you from the kitchen. “Rose or Lavender?”
“Rose!”
You felt a lurch in your stomach at the though of a life with Jin. Him calling out what flavor of tea to brew was so…domesticated. And it made your mind wander on how it would feel to press a good morning kiss to his lips. How it would feel to send him off downstairs and even though you two were apart, just knowing that you were in the same vicinity would be enough.
You snapped back into reality when you felt a warm mug being pressed into your hands. Jin had settles down next to you and you watched him bring the mug up to his lips. A bit of tea tickled down the bow of his lips and your hand was itching to wipe it away.
“So what’s next? Job hunting? Seeing the world? Staying locked in this apartment?” Jin laughed and you took note of the way his eyes would glitter when he was laughing.
“Uhh, well, I think what’s next is probably moving out.” Your hands reached down to pick loose threads on the couch. “I can’t afford this place without a steady income. Plus, it’s the city, you know.” You brought your hands up to your face, because you honestly thought you might cry again. After they had given you the news, you had left work with a bleary, tear smeared face. You had thought you had cried enough tears to fill the river across from the apartment, but in this moment you felt them pricking your eyes once more.
Jin wrapped his arms around your shoulder and brought you to sit closer with him on the couch. For a moment, you let yourself rest against his chest. It felt safe. Like you would wake up tomorrow with a job and how things figured out somehow.
“I’m sorry.” You pulled away to stare up at him. “I didn’t think I’d be this upset. It’s just this place has become a part of me. And things have finally become to feel like home for me. Places…” You hesitantly glanced away from him. Unable to look at him, because even your own mind was coming to terms with this reality. “…even people are home to me here. I’m not ready to give that up.”
………
When you woke up, it wasn’t exactly jarring, but you were having difficulty opening your eyes. You grabbed the clock by the couch and it was well after 12 am. Jin must have left after you sat there practically crying into his arms. The last thing you remember was your head hitting his lap as he held you.
The kitchen was spotless. Almost like they hadn’t just been in here making a mess with dinner. There was a note taped to the kitchen counter. The closer you got, you observed that it had two tan pills with arrows pointing towards it. “Take these when you get up. It will make you have less of a headache tomorrow.- Jin.”
Upon further inspection before he had written the dash, you could make out a loopy “L” written in Jin’s cursive.
It was normal to have your stomach doing flips.
This is what you told yourself.
But the more you tried to fight the thought off, the more it came crashing in like a dam that had broken. Jin was the one you went to when you needed comfort, a laugh, or just someone to be with.
He was your best friend. And you loved him. Or rather you were IN love with him. Both really.
So that was it then.
As your feet padded against the hallways towards the elevator, you were making your mind up. You rarely treated yourself and this was one thing that your mind wasn’t going to let go.
When the door opened to the lobby, you could see him sitting at the front desk. He was hunched over, engrossed in some book, so much so that he hasn’t popped his head up to meet yours.
“Hey.” You tossed your keys on his desk and his head shot up to the sound. You watched as his eyes warmed to the sight of you. Ugly pajamas and all. “(Y/n). Hey.” His tone was just a few steps above a whisper and that only made the gymnastics that your stomach was doing magnify.
“You forgot something upstairs.” You said matter of factly. Wrapping around the corner of his desk, you dove towards his body. Your hands found their way around his neck as you planted your lips right on your target. Much to your surprise, it didn’t take long for him to reciprocate. His hands shot up to grip your waist and pulled you to sit in his lap. You felt your back bump against his keyboard and tipped it off of his desk, but you both were too enraptured in each other.
He pulled you around the corner back towards where you came from. When the bell chimed for the elevator, you were too spellbound by his touch to question what he was doing. The whole ride back up to your place, his hands never left your body. Choosing not to dwell on one place for too long.
Then, so choreographically and perfect, you danced your way down the hall to your place. Tongues peeking. Teeth bumping. Years of underlying want finally bubbling to the surface. While Jin had a gentle demeanor, he was a man that knows what he wants. And in this moment, he is unashamedly relishing in the fact that he has you in his hands.
Many nights were spent wondering what you would look like as he peeled off those damn pajamas. So now, as he’s tracing the waistband of your underwear with his middle finger, he can’t help but stop to take a mental picture. You are rested back with your hair splayed out around your head like a halo. Fitting, he thought, an angel on Earth.
Your hands travelled up to lock around his neck once more, pulling his face closer to yours, not wanting another minute to pass by without your lips on his. He dipped his hands lower past your waistband and ran his index finger past your heat. He looked up to gauge your reaction and rather than speaking, you lifted your hips up to meet his palm, and rocked against it. This drew a sigh of pleasure from you that only drove Jin’s desire for you into greater heights.
It didn’t feel as unknown as you thought it would. As he guided one finger inside of you, your hands instinctively reached up to grip his shoulders. He stopped, fearful that he was hurting you, but it was quite the opposite. “Sorry, it just- it feels so good. I haven’t been touched in a while.” Embarrassment washed over you for a moment until Jin leaned into the crook of your neck, peppering kisses along your jaw. “You’re all mine now.”
He drew his face closer to meet his hand. Peeking his tongue out to run across your most sensitive area. “Jin.” You cooed, coming undone beneath him. Your fingers knotted into his hair as he brought you closer to your high, but not before you tugged his face up to look at yours. “Jin, I need you. I need you to be inside of me.” He snapped back and that was all it took for you to say. He fumbled with his belt and tried not to look like he was going to combust. The fact that you were laying here, asking for him to be in you. He just might burst here and now.
He spread you legs and positioned himself in-between your thighs. Slipping his head back and forth against you, spreading your arousal that was all for him. He liked rubbing against you and ever other stroke you would lift your hips up to meet his hands and he would slightly thrust in with each swipe.
The last time you lifted up, Jin grabbed your hips and thrusted down harshly, making both of her abdomens meet. You laid back against the bed and let him choose the pace as you were just happy that Jin, your Jin, was fucking you.
“You feel so fucking good. Fuck. This is better than I even imagined it would be. So much fucking better.” He panted in-between his words and you were too choked up from his thrusts to reply.
“Fuck. Keep. Fuck… Jin I’m close.” He reached down and rubbed against you with two fingers as both of you came to your highs.
He fell back against your bed and you both sat staring at the ceiling. Trying to catch your breath.
“That was.”
“Yeah.”
Jin turned and wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you so that you were nestled against his arm. “I hope that you won’t think I’m an asshole, but I really should get back to the front desk.” You giggled and shoved him away, looking for his pants that he had thrown somewhere on the bed.
“No, it was my fault anyways. I came down there and pulled you away.” You held his belt up to him as he buttoned his shirt.
“Please be ready at 10, that’s when I get off and we are going to have a breakfast date in bed.” He stopped short next to the bed. “I mean, if that’s okay with you.”
You grinned up at him and tugged him towards the bed. “I’ll be anxiously awaiting.” He captured your lips and you felt his hand run through your hair and tug on it lightly.
You watched his back as he left and you couldn’t help but feel calm in this moment. Thanking the universe for tea. And for Jin.
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dorizardthewizard · 5 years
Text
Misconception: Hal Jordan is an idiot
Okay this might be part of a series of Green Lantern posts I’ve been writing when bored, because hey you read some youtube comments and suddenly you’re an essay writer. It’s just gonna be me rambling about Hal’s character lol
So we’ve all made dumbass jokes, me included, but honestly? Hal’s not stupid, he can’t be. It takes a lot to be a test pilot, including a degree in the engineering/physics field, and most likely military service. He wouldn’t have gotten as far as he did if he wasn’t smart enough.
It might not always seem that way though, but that’s because he excels in thinking on the fly, which is so important when you’re dealing with intergalactic crises springing up every Tuesday. He’s the guy who will jump right into danger and trust that he can get himself out afterwards. We’ve seen him think his way out of tricky situations before, even if in his own crazy style like jumping out of a plane to recharge his ring from the head of a Manhunter. In some circles he’s kind of gotten the reputation of being the lame one in the Justice League, which can’t possibly be true when he has a ton of amazing feats to him like defeating Sinestro multiple times, killing Krona despite the fact that a GL ring shouldn’t be able to kill a Guardian, controlling the death entity Nekron to defeat the reality-bending First Lantern, making a ring out of his own willpower… etc.
So if he isn’t actually an idiot, where did this reputation come from? The ring chooses according to willpower and technically, not being bright shouldn’t make anyone less worthy, but this trait has kind of been blown up over the years to the point where some people are getting “dumbass energy” mixed with “actual dumbass”. Going back to the silver age, Hal definitely had a clumsy streak – we’ve all laughed at the panels like him slipping over in the shower and knocking himself out. It was pretty endearing though, watching this walking disaster still manage to save the day.
I feel like some of that was lost in later comics as he grew up, and when Johns brought him back even later, he was more like the cool, cocky pilot type (although still a disaster in other areas lol). The thing is, because of his nature of jumping into danger it sometimes seems like he really can’t think for himself, but that’s not the case. It’s just his style to go in guns blazing, shining bright and attracting all the attention away from whoever’s he’s saving and onto him. It’s true that it doesn’t always work out as well as he hopes, and that makes for some fun stories, but other times his quick instincts are lifesaving.
It wasn’t until the New 52 where this really got blown up though – while the GL comics continued mostly the same as before, other characters got rebooted so we got a whole new Justice League dynamic. A lot of people unfamiliar with GL know his New 52 version through the animated movies, and booooy…. this guy is basically Guy Gardner but less lovable, more insufferable and way less competent.
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Of course this isn’t just limited to him, a lot of the Justice League members seem to be caricatures of themselves in this movie but I feel like he’s gotten it the worst. The Batman Syndrome doesn’t help either, where everyone’s dumbed down and nerfed to make him look like the biggest BAMF on the League. You have a guy who literally works with aliens everyday but of course only Batman’s tech can identify an alien device as a bomb! There’s also the ring-stealing gimmick, which is stupid because a Green Lantern is always bound to their ring through concentration – to remove it they literally have to disengage their minds from it first. I don’t know, maybe there’s a retcon or something but it’s still dumb. He even does this to John Stewart in JL Dark – that’s crossing the line :’P
Of course you could say JL War was early days and he hadn’t been a GL that long, but it doesn’t get much better in the other films and it’s no excuse for crossing into annoying asshole territory. It’s a difficult balance to strike and boy can you tell when a writer only has surface-level knowledge of his character...
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Yikes. Sure he can be a cocky flirt – so was Han Solo – but he was actually likable!!
Sadly this trend of making Hal more and more of a comic relief man-child outside of comics continues, you’ve got kids watching him in DC Superhero Girls thinking that’s the definitive take on him, and we’re not getting a new GL movie any time soon to really delve into the character, whether animated or live action. Thankfully the animated series portrays him in a more positive light (although maybe they went a bit too far in flattening out his flaws, but that’s a post for another time) but that got cancelled so :/ Again I’m not well-versed in New 52 and Rebirth comics outside of GL yet but I have seen snippets of Justice League comics where it seems like he’s grown more into his old self, my favourite being his Darkseid War tie-in, which I really hope to see animated someday. Speaking of movies, the 2011 one certainly didn’t do him any favours – I actually think Reynolds did okay as Hal but when people look back on it, all they see is the Deadpool guy.
Anyway this is kind of going off on a tangent but still, it’s sad seeing so many comments joking about him being dumb and incompetent and that they should have used another lantern instead (I agree we need more of the other lanterns but not because Hal sucks), just because bad writing made him a caricature of his worst traits. When this happens to characters like Batman, tons of fans complain and come to his defence by calling out the writing, yet for Hal many just assume this is how he always is. In a world where Aquaman is actually getting some love, I really hope we can get a good adaptation for Hal soon.
TLDR;
Me: Oh Hal you dumbass
Someone: Ikr he’s such an idiot and a jerk I hate him
Me:
Me: What the fuck did you just say
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absollnk · 4 years
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Absol's Journey's End progression, act 1: prehardmode
(this post contains sarcasm not marked with /s because a., I'm not targeting any real people and b., It's for emphasis. I will also be explaining things that may not need to be explained to seasoned players in order to make this a little more accessible. Tw for sparse cursing)
wow
I'd like to call myself good at Terraria. I've played across several platforms since patch 1.1 and know way too much about this spectacular sandbox's intricate details. I can blaze through most bosses effortlessly if I'm prepared. I've done playthroughs of every class in expert mode (except summoner, couldn't find a slime staff even after farming :/).
It's so strange to be bitch slapped all the way back to square one just because I've never touched a keyboard before.
I don't remember what my initial key layout was, but currently, the important ones are-
WASD for movement
C for inventory
R for mounts
F for quick heal
B for quick buff
Space for jump
LeftAlt for smart cursor toggle
M for map
Left click for action and right click for interaction, and
Mouse 3 (scroll wheel *press* for grappling hook.
You should've seen my hour-one gameplay. It was sad. I couldn't change directions while jumping. I was regretting choosing expert mode difficulty. If I wasn't using journey mode's research system as a crutch, I'd probably still be pre-skeletron. I didn't even have enough skill to use the step stool accessory, which literally just requires holding up.
But, in the long run, I got better way faster than I could've anticipated. First, however, on irl day 2, I killed the Eye of Cthulhu on my fifth try after being torn apart by its last-resort Wacko Mode 4 times. At that point I was decked out in full gold gear with the fast and piercing jester arrows, so I really felt that the keyboard was holding me back considering that I usually do the eye armorless (admittedly I only had 100 life, but I usually do that too.)
The next day, slime rained. I thought that the king would be free gear, so I warped back to the surface to bring him out. He wasn't. He spawned on top of me, dealing 50+ damage immediately, wiping out half my total HP. I instinctively tried to use the shield dash to get the hell out of there, but I hit the inside of his body, which made me bounce back, which made me get hit again, resulting in death. The fight lasted less than 10 seconds, and I could only see the fucker for two of them.
With my spicy new tendon bow from the eye, I thought in my tilted rage that it would be a good idea to go and beat up the Brain of Cthulhu. I was itching for beefier armor and it was the gateway between me and crimson/molten gear. I set up an arena above the crimson made of two long rows of platforms covered in health regen-boosting campfires. With a stack of its spawn item (thanks journey mode), I brought in the first one to size up what I was dealing with.
I died pretty well. In fact, this is where I died the best out of the whole run so far.
The first attempt went surprisingly well. My lovely and incredibly sexy jester arrows made dealing with the creeper hoardes *relatively* easy. Phase two did not apply to that. I had brought along a burning mace because it had the dual functionality of circling the player or being shot out and coming back again like a baseball on an elastic string. This would theoretically allow me to attack the brain if it was far away and defend myself if it was too close to me. I did not know that the mace had very little knockback while it was spinning. This plan did not work.
ELEVEN atempts of trial and error later, I won. By that point, the creepers alone had dropped enough materials to make the crimson armor without ever actually killing the boss, which is pathetic. But I won, and I didn't cheat. I'm still in the easy baby phase of the game. At this point I'm starting to realize why most players statistically chop down a tree and ditch the game forever.
It's irl day 3. Next up on my blood feud against the children's video game was skeletron, the next step in progression that makes the final boss of prehardmode a little bit easier and the thing preventing me from seeing my hair. I set up and even longer 3-layer arena and prepared to not have fun, as skeletron is known in my head for being a dumb bitch who cheats with fast, homing projectiles and an un-telegraphed chain attack that will instantly kill you if you can't grapple out.
He took two tries. I don't get it. I was probably getting better at the controls by then, but *that much* better? Like, the successful attempt wasn't even that close. Whatever. I was annoyed that the stupid brain gave me so much trouble, and I seemingly couldn't be happy after a boss fight even if it went well. But, since we take those, I proceeded into the dungeon to find a bunch of disposable weapons and, more importantly, the cobalt shield. I didn't have to take knockback anymore. If I rematched the king slime then he was fucking dead.
The clothier moved in and I bought the familiar wig to reveal my luscious locks.
Queen bee is next. The fights were standard, but I learned that she apparently enrages on the surface? I always fight her there, except for this time when I stayed underground for funsies. She was so much easier underground. Good to know, I guess. I could've probably done her before even the Brain.
Because I'd never been able to before and because I happened to find the tavernkeep after the bee fight, I tried out the old one's army which logically and appropriately kicked my ass. It was a reality check for sure (things were going smoothly since after the brain minus movement) but it was also a neat experience.
I mowed through the gobins, finally maxed my hp, and then it became Wall Time. My loadout was now molten armor with the Molten Fury bow and the Sunfury flail (which for some reason has like ninety base dmg??? This is a PREhardmode weapon? It has NO business doing 90+ but hey I'll take it). I was also rocking the blizzard in a balloon, band of regen, fledgeling wings, lightning boots, and shield of Cthulhu. I felt like I was finally strong enough in-game and competent enough with the controls to advance to hardmode. I was finally good enough at the video game to change directions while jumping.
I built a roughly 1,900-block long bridge in hell out of the blast-proof dungeon bricks. My plan was to run far ahead of the wall and just kill it with dynamite. I grinded for a voodoo doll and yeeted it into the lava, murdering Andrew the guide with questionable morals and bringing forth the wall of flesh. Little did absol know that they forgot to pack the main part of their plan, dynamite. I realized this, contemplated in-game self murder to end the hopeless fight early, but then I had an epiphany. What if I didn't cheese the boss and fought it legitimately?
With my epic gamer status and pride on the line and expecting nothing more than failure, I whipped out my good ole 100-gotdamn-damage Sunfury and tore through the Wall's hungry appendages.
This is all cool and good on paper. I'm doing consistent damage and I'm not dying. That's how you kill bosses. Things are going well, life is good.
I check the map and learn that I've already used up two thirds of my hellbridge and that the wall was only just below half health. Oh no. Things are actually not going well and life is bad.
I switch to the bow, hoping that the speed and accuracy result in better DPS. Better it was, and I would be all set if it weren't for the Wall's gimmick. I was indeed doing more damage, but as it loses health, it gets faster. I'm at a point where I have to be running at full speed almost constantly to stay a safe distance away. The Wall's health still isn't in the dark red zone and I'm almost out of road. I'm starting to take steady damage from the exponentially faster eye lasers and leeches. I run out of bridge and have to hop from lava lake to building to lava lake in order to not burn alive in the infernal orange juice. New areas are being revealed on the map because I'm fighting in an area I've literally not been in yet. I'm too busy focusing on not being deep-fried that my aim suffers tremendously. I fumble while switching back to the flail for quality over quantity, costing me precious seconds. The wall now moves faster than my top speed. I mis-time a jump and right before the wall disintegrates me between itself and a building, it dies.
I audibly moan in real life.
I go and check the treasure bag after a few seconds of mental recalibration. I got a laser rifle and a ranger emblem, along with the standard demon heart which I immediately wolf down to slap on the emblem. I guess I'm a ranger now.
Recap:
King Slime: still alive
Eye of Cthulhu: five attempts
Brain of Cthulhu: twelve attempts
Skeletron: two attempts
Queen Bee: two attempts
Wall of Flesh: one attempt
The spirits of light and dark have been released and my gamer status is intact. Absol's next victim-victim relationship is with the Queen Slime, but that'll have to wait until the hardmode post :)
Thank you if you've read this far!! Lemme know what you think about this kind of thing, it was fun
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ofelvie · 4 years
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joe keery. cis male. he/him.  /  elvie croft just pulled up blasting spooky boy by danny gonzalez  — that song is so them ! you know, for a twenty - four year old youtuber, i’ve heard they’re really scatterbrained, but that they make up for it by being so loyal. if i had to choose three things to describe them, i’d probably say 80s horror, buckets of halloween candy, and blurry photographs of mysterious figures in the woods. here’s to hoping they don’t cause too much trouble ! ( sam, 23, est, she/her )
hey there demons! *ba dum tss* my name is sam and i’ll be writing elvie, a brilliant harvard law graduate who threw away any shred of credibility he ever had in order to make silly videos on the internet. more info under the cut. feel free to message me if you would like to plot!
i. stats
𝖋𝖚𝖑𝖑 𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖊: elvin tupelo croft
𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖋𝖊𝖗𝖗𝖊𝖉 𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖊𝖘: el, elvie, the ghost guy
𝖍𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖙𝖔𝖜𝖓: salem, massachusetts 
𝖉𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖇𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖍: october 31, 1995
𝖟𝖔𝖉𝖎𝖆𝖈: scorpio
𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓: demisexual
𝖔𝖈𝖈𝖚𝖕𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓: lawyer youtuber
𝖕𝖔𝖘. 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖙𝖘: loyal, open - minded, exuberant.
𝖓𝖊𝖌. 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖙𝖘: scatterbrained, obstreperous, impulsive.
𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖕𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖉 𝖇𝖞: shawn spencer, psych ; fox mulder, the x files ; stiles stilinski, teen wolf.
ii. history
elvin tupelo “elvie” croft was born in salem, massachusetts ( yes, really ) on halloween day ( yes, really ). an only child, his father is the district attorney for essex county, massachusetts while his mother owns a store in town that sells witchcraft supplies such as crystals, herbs, grimiores, etc. fun fact: she’s the descendant of an accused witch, meaning that elvie is as well.
as it turns out, beneath of the surface of the few tourist attractions that it has to offer, salem has a small town, stuck in the past vibe. it’s the sort of place where everyone knows everyone all their lives because no one ever leaves and no one ever moves in. he grew up in this...eccentric...environment, living in the same house all his life and only ever leaving to visit his grandparents in boston. 
he was five years old when he saw his first horror movie ( an apathetic teenage babysitter let him stay up long past his bedtime to watch nightmare on elm street ) and from that moment on he was HOOKED.
when he started school, two things about him became apparent: 1) he was highly intelligent and 2) he struggled greatly with tasks such as sitting still and staying focused. he was tested, and it turns out that he has a through the roof genius level iq and he also has adhd, which he was put on a few different medications for until something finally seemed to work for him.
he could have been one of those child prodigies who finished high school at the age of ten and then college at the age of fourteen, BUT his parents decided that they didn’t want him to miss out on the experience of going through school with people his own age.
as the smartest kid in class with glasses and braces and an insatiable obsession with all things horror and halloween, he…was picked on. mercilessly.
so, he didn’t really have any friends...............................at all.................................but he didn’t mind. he was perfectly content to go right home after school and spend the rest of the day reading comic books or watching horror movies or researching local urban legends and paranormal stories.
he started his youtube channel when he was a teenager and it was…trash honestly. it was basically buzzfeed unsolved if buzzfeed unsolved consisted of one ( 1 ) dorky teenager yelling at the air in the middle of abandoned house at 3am, but it turned out that people found it entertaining. his first few videos were flops, but he would soon start amassing subscribers in the hundreds, then thousands, then hundreds of thousands.
so, when he got to his senior year of high school, he was a shoe - in to be named class valedictorian ( he was ) and he was even getting ivy league offers. at the same time, his youtube channel was starting to gain momentum. his parents mainly his father were really pushing him to attend college and elvie, genius level iq and all…didn’t want to go. he wanted to focus on his youtube channel, but his dad was absolutely not having it.
he attended harvard for both his pre law and law school studies, breezed through classes, graduated with honors at the top of his class and once he passed the bar exam there were countless job offers waiting for him. elvie ignored them all and moved to los angeles so that he could finally focus on his youtube channel.
it’s been almost two years since he moved and he likes it in california!
iii. extras
his name is elvin but basically no one ever calls him that. his own parents don’t even particularly like the name. long story. most people call him elvie and some who are super close to him just call him el.
while he is the “ryan” aka the believer of his youtube series, he’s definitely NOT a scaredy cat like ryan the poor guy. in fact, all his life there’s been this running joke that HE DOESN’T SEEM TO BE SCARED OF ANYTHING, and who knows? maybe he isn’t.
has the most cartoonishly exaggerated boston accent that one could ever hope to hear, except he doesn’t seem to realize it at all. 
10/31 blaze it he’s a HUGE stoner.
he’s got jokes. stay vigilant.
he’s OBSESSED with all things horror, halloween, and 80s. he makes a lot of film references that are often so obscure that most people don’t even catch them.
he is legally permitted to practice law in the states of massachusetts and california, so basically: he’s a lawyer! however, this is not at all common knowledge because...
most people don’t know how smart he actually is because he intentionally plays dumb and he’s really good at it. being high all the time and his natural chaotic energy is quite helpful in hiding his intelligence. he just doesn’t like to be seen as smart, so the whole once - brilliant law student thing? not common knowledge whatsoever. he tries not to mention the college he attended by name at all, but if he has to then he lies and says that he went to salem state.
and yes, he has SO MUCH chaotic energy. he’s the kind of person who will stick a fork in his microwave just to see what would happen out of sheer boredom. he has two pet mexican redknee tarantulas that probably aren’t even allowed on campus named freddy and jason who he just…fucking loses track of every other day. his favorite drink is literally black coffee mixed together with a can of monster energy and 5 ( f i v e ) teaspoons of sugar. he is c h a o s. he has absolutely NO IMPULSE CONTROL whatsoever. 
he has slight Daddy Issues™. slight. when he was born, his dad was hoping that he would get a star athlete kid who would go on to follow in his footsteps and one day become a successful, respectable lawyer but instead he got…elvie. he’s never outright said that he’s disappointed but he didn’t need to. elvie’s a really difficult person to rattle but every time, without fail, he ends a phone call with his dad and he’s in a bad mood for the rest of the day. 
his car is this PIECE OF JUNK giant turquoise van that he painted to look like the mystery machine. her name is laurie strode.
even though he makes constant pop culture references about horror movies and the 80s, but outside of those areas he’s completely clueless about pop culture. like, he can recite the entire scripts of the shining and empire strikes back and ferris bueller’s day off word for word, but if someone tried to talk to him about the new post malone song or the latest marvel movie he would just stare blankly.
he has a HUGE sweet tooth. his favorite food is halloween candy and his favorite candy is black licorice disgusting i know.
he takes adderall for his adhd and he’s usually good about keeping up with it. started keeping them on his person in college because he realized that his meds were getting stolen and it’s a habit he's held onto that doesn’t really keep his shit from getting stolen.
.he’s good at…A LOT of things because he’s a really fast learner. he can play the guitar, he can draw, he did drama in high school. he just has to watch someone do something once and then he can usually immediately do it himself. this skill doesn’t extend to physical activities such as sports, however. he’s terrible at those.
he’s basically a cartoon character
iv. wanted connections
friends
cousin  ( their grandparents would probably be from boston but otherwise anything really goes for this )
his weed dealer lmao
smoking buddies
people who don’t like him / find him annoying
has stolen his adderall
maybe someone who knows how smart he really is
exes and flings
( these are just ideas and i’m trash at coming up with these, so please don’t feel limited by what’s listed here. )
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eliscroft · 4 years
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[ joe keery, cis male, he/him ] have you seen ( ELI CROFT ) hanging around? the ( TWENTY-FIVE ) year old often hangs around ( THE WITCH'S HOUSE ) when they’re not being a ( LATE NIGHT RADIO SHOW HOST ). i’ve been told they’re ( LOYAL ) but ( SCATTERBRAINED ) and when i look at them, i see ( 80S HORROR, BUCKETS OF HALLOWEEN CANDY, BLURRY PHOTOGRAPHS OF MYSTERIOUS FIGURES IN THE WOODS ). wellcliff wouldn’t be the same without ‘em! [ sam, 23, she/her, est ]
hey there demons! *ba dum tss* i’m sam and i also write cal ( @calsmorgan​​ ). much like my sweetheart jock, this spooky nerd is one of my favorite muses ever, and i hope you love him as much as i do! please feel free to message me if you would like to plot!
TWS: medication, bullying, drug mention
STATS
FULL NAME: elvin tupelo croft
NICKNAMES: el, eli, et, spooky guy
GENDER + PRONOUNS: cis male + he / him
DOB + AGE: october 31st, 1994 + twenty - five
ZODIAC: scorpio
HOMETOWN: salem, massachusetts
OCCUPATION: host of the graveyard shift, a radio program airing every weeknight in wellcliff from 12am to 5am.
FUN FACTS: fluent in icelandic, has two mexican redknee tarantulas named freddy and jason, and has a HUGE sweet tooth.
 HISTORY
elvin tupelo “eli” croft was born in salem, massachusetts ( yes, really ) on halloween day ( yes, really ). he's an only child and his father is the district attorney for essex county, massachusetts while his mother owns a small local business that sells witchcraft supplies such as crystals, herbs, grimoires, and more. interesting fact: she’s the descendant of an accused witch, meaning that eli is as well.
as it turns out, beneath the surface of the few tourist attractions that it has to offer, salem has a small town, stuck in the past vibe. it’s the sort of place where everyone knows everyone all their lives because no one ever leaves and no one ever moves in. he grew up in this atypical environment, living in the same house all his life and only ever leaving to visit his grandparents in boston.
he was five years old when he saw his first horror movie ( an apathetic teenage babysitter let him stay up long past his bedtime to watch nightmare on elm street ) and from that moment on he was HOOKED.
when he started school, two things about him became apparent : 1) he was highly intelligent and 2) he struggled greatly with tasks such as sitting still and staying focused. he was tested ( a few times, much to his irritation ) and it was discovered that he has a genius level iq and adhd.
he could have been one of those child prodigies who finished high school and college by the age of sixteen, BUT his parents decided that they didn’t want him to miss out on the experience of being in school with peers his own age.
HOWEVER, as the smartest kid in class with glasses and braces and an insatiable obsession with all things horror and halloween, he was picked on. mercilessly. he never had many friends, but he was content to go right home after school and spend the rest of the day reading comic books or watching horror movies or researching local urban legends and paranormal stories.
so, when he got to his senior year of high school, he was a shoe - in to be named class valedictorian ( he was ) and he was even getting ivy league offers. of course, his parents mainly his father were really pushing him to attend college and eli, genius level iq and all…didn’t want to go. he had a van ( a turquoise monstrosity painted to look like the mystery machine ) and he just wanted to drive. alas, his dad was absolutely NOT having it.
he attended harvard for both his pre law and law school studies, breezed through classes, graduated with honors at the top of his class and once he passed the bar exam there were countless job offers waiting for him. eli ignored them all and finally embarked on that road trip he had been meaning to take alongside his best friend.
they unexpectedly settled in wellcliff about a year ago after getting their hosting gig at the local radio station. ( basically, they were working as interns for some extra cash and the regular hosts called out of work at the last second, so eli and his best friend were shoved into the booth and told to think fast! ) they were a literal overnight success and so they were offered a regular hosting gig at the station.
the graveyard shift is a radio program that airs every weeknight from 12am - 5am in the wellcliff area and on apps such as iheartradio. eli hosts the show alongside his best friend and they discuss topics such as the paranormal, conspiracy theories, and all things spooky. 
PERSONALITY
a HUGE believer in the paranormal and urban legends, and one of his favorite things to do when he goes somewhere new is check out the local cemeteries and haunted locales. however, unlike his real world counterparts zak bagans and ryan bergara he’s definitely NOT a scaredy cat in fact, all his life there’s been this running joke that HE DOESN’T SEEM TO BE SCARED OF ANYTHING, and who knows? maybe he isn’t.
10/31 blaze it he’s a HUGE stoner.
he’s got jokes. stay vigilant.
he’s OBSESSED with all things horror, halloween, and 80s. he makes a lot of film references that are often so obscure that most people don’t even catch them.
he’s a lawyer! at least in the state of massachusetts. however, this is not at all common knowledge because…
most people don’t know how smart he actually is as he intentionally plays dumb and he’s really good at it. being high all the time and his natural chaotic energy is quite helpful in hiding his intelligence. he just doesn’t like to be seen as smart, so the whole once - brilliant law student thing? not common knowledge whatsoever. he tries not to mention the college he attended by name at all, but if he has to then he lies and says that he went to salem state.
btw yes, he has SO MUCH chaotic energy. he’s the kind of person who will stick a fork in his microwave just to see what would happen out of sheer boredom. he has two pet mexican redknee tarantulas named freddy and jason who he just…fucking loses track of every other day. his favorite drink is literally black coffee mixed together with a can of monster energy and 5 ( f i v e ) teaspoons of sugar. he is c h a o s. he has absolutely NO IMPULSE CONTROL whatsoever. 
even though he makes constant pop culture references about horror movies and the 80s, but outside of those areas he’s completely clueless about pop culture. like, he can recite the entire scripts of the shining and empire strikes back and ferris bueller’s day off word for word, but if someone tried to talk to him about the new post malone song or the latest marvel movie he would just stare blankly.
he has a HUGE sweet tooth. his favorite food is halloween candy and his favorite candy is black licorice disgusting i know.
he takes adderall for his adhd and he’s usually good about keeping up with it. started keeping them on his person in college because he realized that his meds were getting stolen and it’s a habit he’s held onto that doesn’t really keep his shit from getting stolen.
he’s good at…A LOT of things because he’s a really fast learner. he can play the guitar, he can draw, he did drama in high school. he just has to watch someone do something once and then he can usually immediately do it himself. this skill doesn’t extend to physical activities such as sports, however. he’s terrible at those.
he’s basically a cartoon character
WANTED CONNECTIONS
best friend from salem who travels with him * wc on the main
friends
paternal / maternal cousin ( paternal cousin’s grandparents would probably be from boston + maternal cousins grandparents would probably be from salem )
his weed dealer but they gotta have the really good shit
smoking buddies
people who don’t like him / find him annoying
has stolen his adderall
maybe someone who knows how smart he really is
romantic connections! 
these are just some base ideas and i’m definitely open to brainstorming!
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Lirio
The first of my short stories. One that, unlike most of my attempts, actually succeeds at being short. I am posting it now, in part because I've been wanting to post it for some time but simply haven't cared enough to bother, and in part in recognition of Mental Health Awareness Month.
Please keep in mind that it is a story of a young girl's depression, and her struggle to live with it. The story is short, the ending is happy, and her struggles are presented from her close friend's observation of her behavior, but if you are very sensitive to stories regarding this topic, please heed with caution.
Also, please note that this story does not attempt to make light of depression, or present it as something easy to "fix." The point of this story is to communicate how depression may appear and affect those we least expect it to, especially close loved ones, and the importance of having a support network, and the security that comes with it.
Content warning for suicide attempt in the very beginning of the story. It is not explicitly detailed, but the action does occur.
All else aside, please enjoy.
Lirio
    The wind is brisk and biting, the sky grim, but Liliana walks on, accompanied by full-body shivers and misted breath, her only witness the scattered stars blinking out of sight in the timeless hours that straddle late night and early morning.
    Only once does she pause on her trek: the detour she takes in an impulsive bit of nostalgia. She hesitates before she boards the footbridge that overlooks still water — rather short, only fifteen steps across from end to end — but only for a moment, and, after the first step on the uneven surface, it becomes easier to wade her way to the center.
    The iron bar is much colder than her trembling hand, cold enough to seep into her skin, but her shivers still as she folds one arm over the other atop the rail, bends her neck over the edge, and bows her head. And yet — despite the breath she holds captive in her throat, despite the unrestrained hammering in her temples, despite the impending nettle behind her eyes — she cannot bring herself to shed a tear anymore than she could breathe underwater.
    She withdraws her head and remains still, stalk-straight for a full minute, five, ten. The only source of light in this sea of darkness, the blazing white glare of the streetlight behind her.
    When she glances over her shoulder, she catches the beckoning wink of a neon display nearly as tall as the towering building it supplements: her original destination. She turns away from the light.
    The glow of her phone pales in comparison; though tolerable, it is still unfavorable and bright. She squints but doesn't so much as think of dimming it down.
    Her pulse is racing by the time she holds the phone up to her ear; her breath catches at the inquisitive slur at the other end of the line.
    “... Hello...? Are you there...? Li—?”
    “I need you to...” she stops. “You should come to the bridge.”
    “... what? It's — almost three in the morning, why—?”
    A muffled beep. The connection is dissolved, and she is alone again.
    She leaves the phone trapped into a corner of cement at one end of the bridge just as it begins to buzz and tries to skitter away.
    The intensity of the streetlight's glare almost seems to have waned; its reach looks dwindled and centered entirely on her.
    Her hands grip onto the handrail, a necessary support to brace herself as she eases one foot, then the other, in between the balusters, just above the string.
    Her phone buzzes again.
    She casts herself over the edge.
.    .    .
    When they were six, Anastasio thought Liliana was more like a bird than any flower he'd ever seen: flowers just stood to the side and looked pretty, and, though pretty she may be…
    Liliana never stood still.
    She stayed in her seat when she had to, but otherwise she would flutter back and forth to all ends of the classroom, chirping away with the other kids until they managed to shake her off. Liliana always wore bold colors that would always catch everyone's attention before anything else. During recess, she would race from one end of the school yard to the other, running so fast she sometimes looked like she was flying. And, on windy days, she would climb up the big tree that sat furthest from the classrooms, find a comfortable perch on a sturdy branch, and sing until the bell caught her ear and left her to flutter down and race back to class.
    The only thing remotely flower-like about Liliana was the little ruffle finish on the hem of her dress when she spun and twirled and danced over the grass — the graceful spread of her skirt as it flared out and rose high enough to see the knee-length shorts she always wore underneath.
    One day, he looks up and sees her perched on top of the monkey bars, swinging her legs like she's walking on air and humming quietly. A short breeze catches her hair.
    “Why aren't you in the big tree?”
    Liliana blinks down at him, and points up to the cover over the playground. “'S too hot.” Then, cocking her head, she says, “you should come up here.”
    Anastasio stares; he’s always been bad with heights.
    “Come ooonnnnn,” she draws out with the beginning of a pout playing over her lips. Her hands are holding the railing to steady her, but the heavy way she leans over startles him. He stutters out a polite refusal and waits for her to lean back.
    She lets go, twists and—
    “Are you scared?” she asks, hands gripping her dress over her thighs to keep it from falling over her face as she hangs upside down, with only her legs anchor her.
    Anastasio moves his mouth, but all he lets out is a frightened croak.
    Liliana folds up and rights herself. “Come on, it's not so bad.”
    Anastasio eyes the structure with distrust, but even now he feels a curious gravitation pulling him toward her. Liliana waits.
    He almost regrets listening to her by the time he joins her, gripping onto the rail hard enough for his hands to ache, the unwelcome and daunting experience of having his legs and feet suspended in air leave him feeling green in the face. He almost regrets it — really, he thinks he should — but the excitement thrumming through him is almost enough to negate the fear.
    Anastasio and Liliana are virtually inseparable from then on.
.    .    .
    “What's your name?” Liliana asks two years later.
    Anastasio stares. “You don't know my name?”
    “Yes, Ana, I do.” She grins, but he refuses to take the bait, “I meant your last name.”
    “Rana.”
    Liliana squints at him. Then, after a long pause, “that would explain the croaking.”
    “I don’t croak,” he corrects her patiently.
    “You do, too. It suits you perfectly.”
    “We’re in the same class, and we have name tags. Why did you even ask?”
    Lili waves her hand. “Oh, like you know mine.”
    “Ortega. Which suits you well, considering how annoying you get.”
    Lili scowls, and crosses her arms.
    “I suppose I have to be the bigger person and end it here, then, Anastasia.”
    Anastasio puffs his cheeks. “That’s not my name! ”
.    .    .
    When they were ten, Liliana told him she was going to move. Her aunt was sick, Liliana said, and they were going to stay and help her until she got better.
    “Are you really going to come back?”
    “I think so...” Liliana sighs. “But it won't be for years.”
    Years... that sounded like forever.
    “Your aunt can’t come here?”
    “No. I already asked...”
    Liliana looks even more upset than he feels; Anastasio, at least, has other friends here, even if Liliana could never be replaced — Liliana won’t have anyone.
    Anastasio slides over a scrap of paper and watches her frown. “It’s my address,” he explains, “we can exchange letters until you come back.”
    Liliana beams.
.    .    .
    She sends him a letter. He replies. She replies, and then she sends out a second letter, a third, a fourth, and sometimes even a fifth before he can reply.
    Her handwriting is large, and, for a while, she attempted the wide and thick style a lot of girls in his class use, until she realized she really couldn’t pull it off. When she started reviewing cursive, she tried using it in her letters for practice, but it often took hours of incomprehensive staring to decipher the erratic squiggles and irregular loops. A lot of her letters break off from a few scant sentences with a drawing all done in crayon: usually an intentionally ugly frog in all sorts of unnatural colors, but occasionally forests or meadows or other animals would feature in.
He keeps them all.
When he gets bored, or lazy, or misses her so much his eyes sting and his chest aches, he picks every letter she ever sent him out of the box he keeps them in, and reads and rereads them until his eyes swim and he thinks he knows her handwriting better than she does.
His mom once asked if he wanted to tack up the pictures to his empty walls. For decoration.
He said no; Lili isn’t a decoration: Lili is a whole girl who lives too far for him to see, so he has to keep as much of her together as he can. His box holds a small part of her that can only contain her lively nature through her wild writing and enthusiastic drawings.
He notices, often, that she talks of her school, her classes, her family, and even the scenery of where she lives now, but she never mentions anyone new, no “I met this kid so-and-so” or “My new friend so-and-so”. As the months drag on, she writes more and more about how much she misses home. Anastasio wonders how lonely she is. He tries to prod her into talking about new friends she should have made, but all he gets are recounts of conversations and interactions that are only notable for filling in the lines to appease him.
Were she not Liliana, he would have thought her shy; but she is Liliana, and Liliana is not shy.
He wonders if something is wrong.
.    .    .
    They exchange phone numbers via letters at thirteen, just before his upcoming birthday; his parents had even presented his phone to him a week early, six months after Liliana received hers.
    He thinks he’ll miss their written correspondence, even if it’s less convenient than phone calls and text messages, but he still has the box with all her letters tucked under his bed. Looking back, he’s relieved their penmanship had improved to something legible by the time Liliana moved; had she gone two years earlier, he doesn’t think they’d be able to understand each other's writing at all.
    Several months in, though, he began to notice a pattern with Lili. The novelty of instant communication had them plastered to their phones, though the dependence gradually waned. But there would be times when Liliana would text him compulsively for days on end, and others when she didn’t reply for weeks. And questions like “Is something wrong?” only made her more prone to stonewalling than prompts like “Hey. It’s been five weeks.”
    He was never quite sure what these episodes meant, and the only conclusion he had was that she may be hanging out more with the friends she made a year into her move, but he was relieved to notice them decreasing over time.
He was even more relieved when she woke him up in the middle of an unassuming night with a call from her another three years later.
    “I'm coming home,” she told him before he could say anything, and he didn’t hear the catch in her voice.
.    .    .
    “You look... different.”
    Liliana gives him a tired smile and sits down next to him.
    It looks fake.
    “How long have you been back?”
    “Two days.”
    Anastasio pauses, waiting to see if she'll elaborate. She doesn't.
    “Unpacking?”
    “Mhm.”
    “How was the trip?”
    “Long.”
    “Your aunt?”
    Another tired smile. “Good.”
    “How was it there?”
A stony pause.  “Let’s just say I’m glad to be home.”
Well, if that wasn’t ominous. Still, more pressing, at least for the moment…
    “You look really tired.” He blurts, but she does, she looks about ready to nod off: dark circles under her eyes, lids drooping, unfocused gaze. “I think you should go home and get some sleep.”
    Liliana starts and turns to him with a frown, and looks much more awake now.
    “Do you... not want me here?”
    “I do, Lili, but you look ready to pass out. You should go home; we can hang out some other time.”
    Liliana scowls, but when she pulls out her compact and looks in it, she cringes.
    “You may have a point,” she admits, pulls herself up with the help of the bridge's railing. “So I'll... see you later?”
    “We have two weeks until the school year starts; I promise you’ll be trying to get rid of me by the end of the first.”
    That seems to be enough assurance to make her relax, but with every step she takes farther away from him she seems to shrink into herself.
    Anastasio frowns.
.    .    .
“She’ll be just another minute,” Mrs. Ortega smiles as she descends the stairs.
“No problem,” Anastasio smiles back.
“Have a seat, hijo,” Mr. Ortega prompts, with a pat at the couch cushion beside him.
“Oh, no, if it’s just another minute-”
“Have a seat!” Mrs. Ortega calls on her way to the kitchen, without turning around.
Opposition worn down, Anastasio relents; he sits down beside Mr. Ortega, and smiles when Mrs. Ortega returns from the kitchen with a basket in one hand, and two chilled water bottles in the other.
“So this is her surprise,” Anastasio muses.
“So it is,” Mrs. Ortega grins, “and she even bothered to make most of it, too. You kids going anywhere special?”
“Just the park, I think. Maybe the little bridge on the way.”
“Hmm, just don’t bore her, eh, hijo?” Mr. Ortega winks. “Though I don’t think we have to worry about that with you.”
“Um?”
Mrs. Ortega rolls her eyes. “He’s joking, mijo.”
“Teasing,” Mr. Ortega corrects. “Just make sure she has some fun, is all I’m saying. That she smiles, laughs a little.”
Anastasio blinks.
“She always looks a little better, when she goes to meet up with you, or right after she comes home from spending time with you,” Mr. Ortega explains.
“Oh.” Anastasio blinks, again. Frowns. “She… always looks a little tired.”
Mrs. Ortega hums. “She does. I let her stay up a bit sometimes, to finish school work if she can’t get it done earlier. She gets a little listless in the afternoon sometimes, has some trouble concentrating, so…”
Anastasio’s frown deepens. “The advanced classes she’s taking, then… maybe she should…”
“I suggested that, too,” Mr. Ortega assures, “but she insists she can keep up with the workload. She’s been getting angry when we bring it up.”
“You’re in a lot of those classes, too, aren’t you mijo?” Mrs. Ortega whispers. “Do you mind… at least making sure she’s not falling behind?”
“Yeah…” Anastasio blinks. “I didn’t know she might be— yeah, of course.”
Mrs. Ortega sighs; Mr. Ortega pats his back. “Thank you, hijo.”
“I’m ready,” Liliana calls from the top of her stairs just before she descends, a step at a time and blinking more than usual. There are rings under her eyes today, too.
“Perfect,” Anastasio smiles as he stands. He pretends he doesn’t notice the looks Liliana’s parents give him. “Let’s go.”
.    .    .
Liliana looks lost.
 “Do you like this bridge?” she asks him. He shrugs.lskdf
“It has a nice view,” he admits, “and people don't really come here.”
Liliana nods. And stares up at the sky.
    .    .    .
    This time, when Liliana’s ringtone screams in his ear and wakes him up, he immediately feels something is wrong. Even the chirp emitting from his phone sounds wrong: hollow, like Liliana’s smiles.
    Perhaps he’s overthinking it.
    “... Hello…? Are you there…? Li—?”
    She cuts him off. “I need you to…” a long pause, then, “You should come to the bridge.”
    “... what?” It’s —” he checks the red glare from his bedside clock, “almost 3 in the morning, why—?”
    A muffled beep. The connection is dissolved, and he is alone again.
    Even as he slams on the redial button, he’s throwing the first clothes he picks up from the floor, and he runs out the door so fast he swears he’s flying.
.    .    .
    He finds her curled up and shivering against the banister, but only when he throws himself on his knees next to her does he notice how her hair clings to her face and neck, how her clothes mold to her form; the moisture on her skin.
    “You’re wet,” he says, struck dumb. “Why are you—”
    “I jumped in.” She chatters through her teeth. He almost asks, in where, but when Liliana drops her gaze and turns it to the water that sits under the bridge, his stomach sinks.
    “I was going to go to that one hotel, the really tall one,” she nods her head back, where the neon signs winks at her. “I was going to jump off the roof.”
    Anastasio stares. He thought she was tired, but had chalked it up to being overworked or insomnia — her parents had seemed to think so as well… But, the idea that she was going to...
    “I’m so tired,” she whispers. He removes his jacket and offers it to her; she wraps it over her shoulders.
    “Tell me.” Lili turns her eyes to him. “About being tired. Why you get tired. Why you wanted to... jump.” Lili’s eyes blink; a tear rolls out. “Talk to me.”
    Lili slumps. And then she talks and talks and cries, and talks some more.
    And afterward, she thanks him with a broken smile that looks almost real.
.    .    .
    Anastasio’s not sure if Liliana ever told her parents about her wanting to jump, but he does know she’s getting counseling twice a week, because she talks about it when they go out after every session. Her voice gets a little stronger, and she’s been making an effort to not shrink into herself when she makes eye contact. She looks a little more rested every week, and less tired when they go on walks.
    Liliana is nowhere near as energetic as she used to be, but she looks more lively every day, and that is enough.
    On his way to meet her, he comes across the flower shop he always passes by, and stops.
.    .    .
    “I thought you were going to be waiting outside the building again?”
    “I was, but, this place really does have a nice view.” Liliana answers, head turned up to the sun; she’s still sporting the giddy glow she gets after counseling. She turns and leans against the railing to face him, and frowns. “What’s that?”
    “They’re flowers, obviously.” He snarks, anxiety rolling into embarrassment, but when she gives him an unimpressed glare, he offers the bouquet to her; she holds it carefully, like she’s afraid of dropping and ruining it at the same time.
    Liliana stares at the flowers like she has no idea what they are; it’s likely, considering she’s never showed an interest in them even as a child. She probably only sees the loose petals with unintelligible patterns of white with red ticks, yellow splotches and pink blushes, by star-shaped flowers with white frames around magenta stains. She wouldn’t understand or appreciate the Peruvians or Stargazers, but that’s fine: because for her, the outward, visible gestures hold more meaning than the covert, underlying symbolism behind the message. And still, in this crowd of Peruvians and Stargazers she would probably never care to understand  — still, in the very center, almost hidden, a single water lily floats.
    “And this one?” she demands. Anastasio smiles.
    “Lirio de agua,” he answers while he tucks it behind her ear. Lili looks up at him, and stares.
    “When frogs sit on the lily pads, they keep all the flies and bugs away from the flower, so it won’t get ruined. So…”
    Anastasio trails off with a faint croak and swallows heavily.
    “If you let me, I’ll help you, through your problems, your depression, anything, everything. I’ll — help you keep away everything you don’t want, and I’ll help you keep away anything that you tell me will tear you down. I won’t let anyone deracinate you. I’ll be there for you. With you. If you let me.”
    For a long moment, Lili stares, and doesn’t blink.
    And then, she smiles.
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OKAY EXPLANATION:
I started this as a practice, ‘cause I figured out a new way to draw on this program I have, and I thought that making something in color would help me figure out how to do that BNHA comic I’m gonna start here soon. 
(It did btw)
Now, though, it turned into a vent kinda? And a shameless show of an OC I had to invent for an LA class project. Which I never posted. But I should ‘cause I really liked it. So that’s Blaze, AKA Tanner cuz he’s just big ball of extra.
But yeah this is technically a vent, and if you wanna read my vent story and sort of life tip, please do read on. 
Wow you’re actually here. Welcome to the vent I tried to keep short but failed.
My little crisis started a while ago with my dad, when we were discussing tattoos. We’re planning on getting some together some time soon, and Dad wanted to make sure I knew what I got was completely up to me; that he’d tell me his opinion, but ultimately, it’s my body, and he wants me to get what I was happy with. 
Literally the next day, one of my friends was worried that her mom would make her get her ears pierced, something she didn't want to do. I may or may not have gotten passionate about that, and got a bit mad. Maybe. I was just remembering the thing with Dad and I didn’t want her to do something she would be uncomfortable with. 
(I don’t think she will, jsyk.)
So now I’m a bit annoyed and such, and my mind keeps going back to that topic. Not so much because I was mad, more because I’m still trying to think of a good tattoo idea lol.
So now I’m going on vacation with my grandparents, who are a bit old school. We were in a city, and went to two baseball games, so we were always in crowds. Which I hate, but that’s not the point here. There were a lot of people around us, all different in their own ways. After the second game, we were going to Grandma’s sister’s house (where I’ll refer to her and her husband as Jay and Dee). 
I’d been having fun, and was totally focused on the plethora of deer that were around Jay and Dee’s home. It was super pretty, and we sat outside a lot. 
The last night, we sat out on their back deck in the dark, watching for deer and raccoons and such, while they talked and I drew. I wasn’t really paying attention to anything. I was totally relaxed and content to just doodle away and listen to their voices. Another great thing about this vacation was that I wasn’t expected to speak in every conversation like I sometimes feel at dinners at home. I’m an introvert that prefers to talk over the Internet. Like now. Oops.
Then I heard grandma say something about a girl at the game that had a tattoo on her shoulder, and I knew exactly who she was talking about. I got excited, ‘cause it was a really cool image of a mermaid and I actually was considering the placement she had! So I spoke up, asking if it was the neat mermaid on the girl a couple rows ahead of us.
She kinda scoffed at me? Like, mockingly saying, “neat mermaid,” like it was disgraceful or something. They all had a bit of a chuckle, and started talking about how terrible tattoos were. 
I was a bit... dismayed? None of them knew I was thinking about getting one, so I don’t think they noticed that I was getting upset. I mean, I’ve told my grandparents that I would at some point, but definitely not how soon. And they’d never been so... passionate about their hate before so it took me by surprise. Anyway, I’d hoped that maybe if I said something they’d at least stop talking about it? Like, I wasn’t going to try to change their minds, but I’d appreciate a little more respect for other people’s wishes, y’know? So, after Jay said something about, “I can’t imagine getting one without at least having some sort of meaning,” I said that I wanted to get one of a dragon.
No hesitation, she replied, “Yeah, but you love dragons! That has a meaning. I see no reason to get a big serpent wrapped around a girl’s back and peaking over her shoulder.”
While they argued the chances of said girl every getting a day job, I thought to myself;
You just contradicted yourself, wtf. If I like dragons, what if she likes snakes?? What’s so bad about that???
Dee then started laughing and said, “I don’t even understand the appeal! Why get anything on your body that everyone will have to look at forever? Or not even see at all!”
Now I was just offended.
For one thing, my dad has a tattoo across his shoulders that you can’t normally see under his shirt, but he says just the fact that he has it makes him feel good.
But also, I’m a fucking artist.
So I kind of snapped, but in a nonviolent, shy sort of way that I usually snap. (Basically, I got more talkative) I had calmly set my sketchbook on the table, dropping my pencil and eraser on it in a sort of fruitless way to draw their attention to the fact that I was d r a w i n g while I spoke, and said, “It’s art. Art that the person loves, and the person that made it loves, and you get to look at it for the rest of your life. It’s like having your own little painting with you 24/7!”
No one listened to me.
Now the topic switched to piercings; how terrible gages looked, how stupid people looked with a nose ring, “what’s even the point of a belly button piercing?” “who in their right mind would get a nipple piercing?”
Idk about you, but I have friends with all the above. So now I’m steaming in my seat. They started talking about how disgusting it must be to “have a cow ring with a runny nose.” Common sense says take out the piercing, or wash it. But at this point, I don’t think they had common sense.
I left that conversation. 
My point of this, besides just ranting, is that your body is your own. You shouldn’t have to worry about what people think about you. If you want a tattoo, by Truth, get one. If you want 30 different piercings on your body, fucking do it, I’ve seen worse. Just remember that this is (usually) permanent, so get something that makes you happy. Not your mom, or your special someone, or your cousin twice removed. You.
Your body. Not their’s.
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synchronysymphony · 6 years
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Make the post. Jean Prouvaire had a gun, Jean Prouvaire fired it, Jean prouvaire died fighting,, intrepid,, just as fierce as Enjolras,,, Jean Prouvaire was shredded
this is all the inspiration I need >:D
[ okay so obviously don’t read this if you like Jean Prouvaire or if you are into the UwU Baby trope, but ,, ]
So, I used to like Prouvaire, I mean he’s canonically pretty cool, with his guns and his death scene and his Romanticism, but then I saw more and more of him in the fandom, and I began to dislike him Intensely. I’m not shaming anybody, because of course, he’s a fictional character, and you’re allowed to write him in any way you want! Bear in mind that the following is only my opinion, and I am in no way attacking anyone, or trying to start drama. Maybe I’m wrong; it could be the case. And maybe I’m being overly mean. I don’t want to offend anyone over a literal book character, so if you want to send me anon hate (which I welcome; I still get a little jolt of excitement every time I get one), please consider that I really mean no harm. 
But the dude really gets on my nerves. He comes across as a whiny, immature, infantilized, one-dimensional, idolized baby– someone I would definitely avoid if I met him in real life. People are afraid to dig deeper into his character and really explore who he is, so he becomes really flat and vapid.
For example, people love to go on about how Enjolras is rich and privileged (which, yeah, he is, and it’s good to explore that), but they conveniently ignore the fact that Jehan is also canonically a rich only son. He’s just as privileged as Enjolras is, and would therefore probably have some problematic views, but I’ve never seen that addressed. Instead, he’s put on a pedestal as some flawless paragon of perfection, who’s soft and sweet and timid and cute and would never hurt a fly. Hugo wanted us to like the amis, but I find it very hard to feel anything but negatively about this guy, just because he’s so lauded as a mythic being who can do no wrong. He’s the one who calls people out (gently, of course; he’s so shy and kindhearted), because unlike his friends (usually Enjolras >://), he knows what’s Actually Right and Good. And then, often enough, his Mean Bad Friends misunderstand him and make him into a victim, because he’s so darling and quirky and misunderstood, and then his actually-soft-and-somehow-not-a-murderer-anymore boyfriend has to come and soothe his soul with words of love. [I used to love JehanParnasse, like I thought their dynamic was really cool and interesting, and I thought it would be really fascinating to explore that. But both of them have been so sanitized that they don’t even resemble their canonical characters anymore, and so the interesting dynamic goes away. Now, they could be any other rom-com couple.]
And it’s really frustrating, because canon Prouvaire is really cool! He’s quirky, yes, but fleshed-out– a dynamic, vivacious character, flaws and all. He learns several languages just so he can read his few favorite poets– who does that? And he’s a musician, and a botanist, and he purposefully wears unfashionable clothes, even though he was definitely brought up with a fancy wardrobe (maybe as an act of protest against his rich heritage?) and yes, he’s shy, but he’s also brave. We can see this when he prepares at the barricade with everyone else, knowing he’s going to have to kill people, but not shying away from it. And we can especially see this in his death scene, when he leaves the world in a blaze of glory with revolution on his lips until his breath gives out. He’s so much more than just a cutesy little quirkily-dressed flower-garlanded forest fawn. He’s complex, and brave, and noble, and really cool. 
I think this is why I hate so much that he’s so often portrayed as the Token Nonbinary Character. People like me don’t get much representation in general, so it’s frustrating that the only person who’s commonly written as such is so infantilized and stripped of all complexity. It doesn’t feel good to know that nonbinary people are seen in such a light. Of course, it’s the thin, conventionally attractive, waifish white boy who gets to be nb, and of course he can’t have any flaws or real personality. Are we stereotypes? Are we only palatable when we’re squeaky-clean and childish? It’s upsetting. Until this trope is done away with, I will never be comfortable seeing him portrayed as such. 
Finally, there’s the fact (petty though it is) that he’s everywhere. I don’t like reading fic with him in it, because he’s so annoying, but he’s in all of them, because he’s everyone’s favorite. And honest-to-goodness, I don’t understand why. Maybe if he were his canon self, I would understand. But he’s not.
[Wow that feels so nice to finally talk about! I feel much better now. Anyway, if you made it all the way through, you’re a champ. Have a good day!!]
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servem · 6 years
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what was your blog like before cmbyn? how did you hear about cmbyn and when was the moment you realized you were obsessed?
My Obsession with Call Me by Your Name: A Survivor’s Log –
Aug 1, 2017- Lunchtime: I see a sidebar ad on a gossip site about a new trailer for Armie Hammer’s upcoming “gay romance”. I’m intrigued; I like Armie Hammer.
Aug 2, 2017 - 4 AM: I’ve just spent all evening and into the following morning reading the book and I’m laying in a puddle of my own tears.
Aug 2, 2017: I browse the internet for everything CMBYN related instead of doing anything productive at work.
Aug 3, 2017:  I remember I have an account on Tumblr. I didn’t consider it a blog, but yeah, I suppose it is. It becomes my crutch.
Aug 4 - 31 2017: I devour every bit of CMBYN content every second of every day as it’s created. More fics start trickling in on AO3.
Sept 2017: I descend into madness. The movie is screening at the NYFF and I don’t score the tickets that I sharked for hours. There are tears and whiskey.
Sept 2017 con’t: An angel from heaven posts on Tumblr that HIFF is screening CMBYN. I score tickets to that and The (glorious) Shape of Water. My heart is racing for 36 hours straight. 
Oct 7, 2017 - 6:30 PM: We arrive far too late to the Hamptons after 2 extra hours of NY traffic and some heinous sonofabitch tells me I missed Armie Hammer’s entrance and the screening is closed now. More tears and more whiskey.  I watch the Shape of Water through said tears until Michael Stuhlbarg comes on the screen; then I’m okay. 
Oct 8, 2017 - 10:00 AM: We are 5th in line to be seated at Variety’s 10 Actors to Watch event. I’m as close as physically possible with plebeian general public access to Timothée Chalamet. He’s very late to the panel because there was a dog parade on the town’s main street (there was, I was very confused about why there were so many dogs in bandanas out that morning) and it’s a riot. Kumail Nanjiani is my new fav. I’m seated next to his wife, Emily, who co-wrote The Big Sick with him. This is the closest I’ve ever come to passing out from sheer excitement. 
Oct 8, 2017 - Noon: I’m seated to watch a screening of CMBYN. The host has promised a very special guest will be joining us. I’m hoping it’s Kumail Najiani because he was funny and I was sure Timmy would be on a plane to London by now.
Oct 8, 2017 - 2:30 PM: I’m wiping my chin. The tears are fat but few. The host announces that here to join us for a Q & A (yes I recorded this)is Timothée Chalamet himself. The tears intensify. I’m worried that the blazing heat of my overwhelmed ass has melted my seat. It hasn’t. I stand and applaud Timmy in the 2nd row. He looks at me and throws a ‘thank you’ wave at me for my applause. My boyfriend steadies me before I fall, despite the fact that I’m falling in love with another man before his very eyes. Later, he clarifies that he’s not worried because Timmy was waving at him, not me, and to make sure I get the story right. 
Oct 9, 2017: The asks about movie details start rolling in. I feel lucky that people even want to talk to me. I think watching the movie so early is why my page picked up any traction. I really start having fun with it. 
Oct-Nov 2017: People start asking me about the book as well. I realize I miss writing and I’ve been having a lot of fun writing about this book. I dust off Duolingo and start brushing up on my french. I start planning a trip to Montreal to visit family. Is this book changing my life?
Nov 2017: We’re flooded with content. This is the future liberals want (or at least the future I’ve wanted since August). I want TO BE ELIO. I’m officially in love with Oliver. I can’t stop writing about him. I wonder if I can steal my old piano back from my little sister. My sisters are annoyed at my obsession with my blog. I love it. 
Dec 2017: I’ve made some internet friends and it’s pretty cool. Never did that before. By now, a good portion of the fandom has seen the movie and Twitter loves it. I’ve blissfully avoided discourse this entire time somehow. My job is DEFINITELY suffering because of this book/movie.  
Dec 23, 2017: We have to exchange gifts early before the holiday rigmarole of visiting my family and his family. I get him a drafting table so he can bring his blueprints home and doesn’t have to work late anymore. He gifts me a piano. I cry and immediately start looking for Sufjan Stevens piano tutorials. Visions of Gideon sounds simple but it’s not.
Dec 25, 2017 - 11 PM: I’m in bed, clearing my e-mails from the weekend out, and I almost drop my phone onto my dumb face. Alex Jung and Hunter Harris (journalists by day, CMBYN twitter stans also by day) have reached out to say that they are going to be sending me a signed copy of CMBYN because of my “participation” (read: extremely flamboyant comments) in Vulture’s CMBYN book club. I will finally have something important enough to grab in case of a fire.
Dec 28, 2017 - today: I realized that a book actually changed my life. I’ve had favorite books in the past that I still deeply love. But, since reading this book, I attended my first film festival, started watching good movies again, returned to studying french and playing the piano, and made new friends. It’s turned things upside down in the best way. 
TL;DR: I’m a drama queen and, in five beautiful months, this book changed my life. 
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Epic Movie (Re)Watch #228 - Tower Heist
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Spoilers Below
Have I seen it before: Yes
Did I like it then: Yes.
Do I remember it: Yes.
Did I see it in theaters: Yes.
Was it a movie I saw since August 22nd, 2009: Yes, #129.
Format: DVD
Disclaimer: As this is an analysis/recap/review/weird musings post about Tower Heist, I’m not really going to get into the claims against Brett Ratner or Casey Affleck. I will say though I think it’s horrible what they did and I hope they face consequences for their actions.
1) I very much like Christophe Beck’s score for this film. It really fits the heist theme. It’s cool, slick, and a gets stuck in your head quite nicely. Since we get to hear Beck’s score before we even see any visuals for the film, I thought I’d mention it here.
2) The chess scene between Josh and Shaw speaks to how the heart of their relationship is conflict ridden. Even when they’re friendly at the beginning, even when they’re civil, there is a conflict there that is very interesting.
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3) Ben Stiller as Josh Kovacs.
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Josh is a very strong main character. You understand that he’s not only good at his job but incredibly dedicated and focused as well. He cares, but the one thing he cares more about is people. Josh is shown to be very empathetic not only to his staff but to a number of residents in the tower. He gives Fitzhugh extra time to leave, he chases down Shaw when he thinks he’s been kidnapped, and he knows all his staff like the back of his hand. Stiller’s reserved, human (albeit very Stiller-y) performance supports this and makes Josh a nice guy to follow along through the story.
4) Going behind the scenes of the Tower at the beginning gives you a sense of not only how this place is run but also gets you invested in its employees. They’re developed in small ways to be more than stereotypes, to be people you like and care for. This is important, as the fact that they are the ones who get screwed is the main plot.
5) Michael Peña as Enrique Dev’Reaux.
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Peña is in competition as the film’s ultimate scene stealer (in competition with Gabourey Sidibe). Not only does he fit will the rest of the ensemble cast, but he’s remarkably funny on his own. Peña plays the role as sweet and endearing when he could have easily come off as annoying. But there’s a sincerity and uniqueness in the performance which makes it interesting.
6) This line always stuck with me, probably because of the film’s themes.
Josh: “You’re committing a crime.”
Fitzhugh: “I understand that.”
7) Alan Alda as Arthur Shaw.
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You can definitely see why people would defend, trust, and believe show in the beginning of the film. He’s friendly and polite, but it’s obviously a facade. Alda is able to switch between Shaw’s “friendliness” and his rottenness very well, making it feel like a united character instead of two foreign elements. He’s wonderfully skeezy.
8) Téa Leoni as Agent Denham.
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The writing for Claire Denham doesn’t make her more than a plot device Josh likes, I think. BUT Leoni is able to breathe such personality and life into the character that you almost forget how she is on the page. There is one scene in particular which represents this well: Denham feels actually human when she gets drunk at a bar with Josh, but she’s still the sexy drunk girl trope. So it’s a mixed bag: Leoni’s strong performance but weak writing. At least Brett Ratner didn’t dress her up in stupid “sexy” costumes.
9) TW: Suicide
Lester’s suicide attempt isn’t only powerful from a storytelling standpoint, but edited very well. Particularly, the scene ends perfectly. You don’t know if he was successful or not right away, it’s 50/50.
10) I love this line.
Lester: “Truth is, people can open their own doors.”
11) Josh going off on Shaw.
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It is so wonderfully cathartic to see Josh go after Shaw. It perfectly paints that Josh cares more about people than his job (something which was a little in doubt before now). It also perfectly sets up his motivations moving forward AND means there is no more question of if Shaw did it or not.
Josh [after Shaw says he cares about Lester after his suicide attempt]: “Then why haven’t you asked me if he’s alive or dead?”
I dig it.
12) The sadness we see among the staff shows how much Josh means to them and how good a boss he was.
13) Matthew Broderick as Mr. Fitzhugh.
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Broderick has some of the most surprisingly memorable lines in the film, playing Fitzhugh as wonderfully timid and out of place. Broderick is hysterical in the part, supporting the cast neatly.
14) Eddie Murphy as Slide.
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This is probably Murphy’s best film of the decade, but that isn’t really saying much. The part feels like a classic for him, very much in line with some of his 80s roles, and there’s a charm/appeal to that. I’ve said this about a number of other characters but he fits remarkably well with the ensemble cast, with a particularly strong chemistry with Stiller (who’s involvement lurred Murphy back to the part after years in development hell).
15) So some of these jokes you just know are not in good taste. And they’re not funny enough to make up for that. They’re not like Blazing Saddles which is bad taste but really good bad taste. Moments like the extended seizure joke just makes you uncomfortable. I think we have Brett Ratner to thank for that.
16) This film is at its best/funniest when the assembled crew is just doing shit. The tangent humor is ESPECIALLY strong. The next ten minutes (the mall scene through the heist prep) is almost exclusively this and features the best humor of the film. Some jokes (like the “gauntlet of lesbians” joke) can veer into bad taste territory, but largely they’re just funny.
17) Josh “apologizing” to Shaw really makes Shaw an even more despicable villain (the worse he is, the better). It also shows how Josh is able to work with people underestimating him to his advantage. Shaw doesn’t even blink when Josh says he’ll get, “Exactly what you deserve.”
18) Gabourey Sidibe as Odessa.
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Sidibe is absolutely incredible in the part. There’s a chance her character might be a Jamaican stereotype, but she somehow steals scenes from comedy veteran EDDIE MURPHY. She’s hysterical, strong, and really interesting. If this movie had just been about Odessa, I would’ve been as interested if not more in the film.
19) So, why does Charlie get a promotion? He was at constant risk at being fired and terrible at his job. Is it because he’s a straight cis white dude? Actually, yeah. That’s probably it.
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20) There’s a reason I watch this film around Thanksgiving: the entire heist takes place ON Thanksgiving! There aren’t enough Thanksgiving movies in the world so I DEFINITELY include this on the list.
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21) The final act of the film, the reason the heist works as well it does is because everything that can go wrong DOES go wrong. Slide betrays them, the money isn’t there, Charlie is working at the tower, etc. It’s these constant monkey wrenches throw into the operation which makes it incredibly interesting.
22) This bugs the shit out of me, but when Slide is pointing his gun at Josh every time they cut back to Slide the painting behind him is in a different place. It bugs the hell out of me.
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23) I LOVE that the Ferrari is where the money is. That it’s what they have to steal. It’s a nice surprise which completely changes the circumstances of the heist, forcing the characters to think on their feet. I love that.
24)
Slide: “I’m gonna call Ralph. [Throws up out the hanging car.]”
My brother and I saw this in theaters together. That joke had us dying the first time.
25) I will admit if you don’t find the final heist interesting you might not like the movie as much because it’s like the last half hour of the movie. So I can see how you might be bored by it. I’m not but I can understand if some might be.
26) I never got how the FBI knows EXACTLY who was in on the heist in less than a few hours, not to mention where they are os they can be picked up.
27) Hey, that’s talented character actor Zeljko Ivanek! Just randomly showing up! Sure, why not.
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(That’s him. Not from this movie, but still.)
28) Josh giving himself up to save the others on his crew is a really nice ending for a number of ways. For one, it gets everyone the happy ending they deserve (except Shaw, who deserves what he gets). Also, it totally fits everything we know about Josh. Of course he doesn’t care about what happens to him. It’s about everyone else.
I like Tower Heist mainly because it’s a Thanksgiving movie and my mom really likes it, so it’s fun watching it with her. But beyond that it’s actually pretty funny. Yes, some of it is markedly insensitive (the seizure joke), but it’s supported by nice performances and solid comedy. There aren’t enough Thanksgiving movies in the world, so maybe Tower Heist is worth your time.
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Arplis - News: Cover Reveal and Excerpt: YOU’RE NEXT By Kylie Schachte
We’ve got a debut murder mystery for you to put on your radar. Check out the cover for You’re Next by Kylie Schachte, out June 2020, and read the exclusive excerpt below! When a girl with a troubled history of finding dead bodies investigates the murder of her ex, she uncovers a plot to put herself—and everyone she loves—on the list of who’s next. Flora Calhoun has a reputation for sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. After stumbling upon a classmate’s body years ago, the trauma of that discovery and the police’s failure to find the killer has haunted her ever since. One night, she gets a midnight text from Ava McQueen, the beautiful girl who had ignited Flora’s heart last summer, then never spoke to her again. Just in time to witness Ava’s death from a gunshot wound, Flora is set on a path of rage and vengeance for all the dead girls whose killer is never found. Her tunnel-visioned sleuthing leads to valuable clues about a shocking conspiracy involving her school and beyond, but also earns her sinister threats from the murderer. She has a choice—to give up the hunt for answers, or keep digging and risk her loved ones’ lives. Either way, Flora will regret the consequences. Who’s next on the killer’s list? Chapter 1 Greg Garcy leers at me from his mug shot: bastard doesn’t know I’ve nailed him yet. I clutch his WANTED flyer in my hand and race down the hall, but I can’t look away from his crushed, sneering nose and bleary eyes. You can’t run from me. The bell rings. Damn. I’m so going to be late for chem. I spent my free period in the parking lot listening to the police scanner on my phone and lost track of time. It was worth it. Garcy is wanted for a string of serial rapes upstate. He’s attacked dozens of women, and he was allowed to get away with it for years. Until now. The hot pulse of adrenaline zips through me as I dash through the halls. I got him. I really got him. I need to run a plate, but⎯ I slam into someone. The Garcy flyer, my bag, pens, and various notebooks scatter across the hallway. There’s a brief tangle of sharp elbows, and I yelp when the corner of my chem textbook lands on my toe. Of course this is the day I didn’t wear my steel-toed boots. “Balls! Fuck! Ow! Shit!” I yell. “Flora Calhoun, you kiss your mother with that mouth?” I squint through the red haze of stubbed-toe agony. Ava McQueen gathers up my papers, pens, and the lone tampon I dropped. One corner of her plum-painted mouth tugs up in a troublemaker’s smile, and a fizzy feeling climbs the back of my neck. It’s been eight months and four days since the last time I kissed her, but I still remember exactly how her lips felt against mine. “H-hey, Ava.” I drop down to help her. “How you been? Haven’t seen you around much.” Yeah. We haven’t talked a whole lot since you started avoiding me. “Um, good. You know, same old bullshit.” She picks Garcy’s WANTED flyer up off the ground and stands. “Clearly.” I blush, which is basically the most annoying thing in the world when you’re a redhead. Ava always makes me feel like I’ve just missed the last step in the staircase. Ava is a year older than me, but we took the same elective on the history of political activism during my freshman year. One day, she shut down this Young Conservatives idiot who called the Black Panthers a terrorist organization. Everyone clapped, Mr. Young Con crapped his khakis, and I fell in love. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that she plays bass guitar, or that she’s bananas hot. I mean, with her curls done up in adorable space buns, and the lipstick, and that funny little smile she’s still giving me? Which is super confusing, since she hasn’t smiled at me like that in a long time. Eight months and four days. Can’t be thinking about that. I focus on shoving my stuff back into my bag. “Oh, uh. You know me. Can’t keep myself out of trouble.” She does know. I’ve always suspected that’s why she stopped talking to me⎯stopped kissing me⎯in the first place. Ava stares at the flyer in her hand. When she glances up at me, the teasing smile has vanished, and something dark flickers in her expression. She looks down again, trying to hide it. If there’s one thing I know, it’s what fear looks like. I take a half step forward, any weirdness between us forgotten. “Ava? Are you okay?” She fingers the edge of the paper. “You ever do something stupid? I mean, like, really, really stupid? Can’t-take-it-back stupid?” “Almost every day.” My face heats again. Why did I say that? “You know”—Ava’s eyes flick from Garcy’s face to mine—“I believe that.” That stings, but I ignore it. “Ava, if you’re in trouble, I can help you.” She opens her mouth, but her eyes catch on something over my shoulder. She stills. I glance behind me. Nothing but the usual throng of people trying to get to their lockers. No one looks this way. Ava folds the Garcy flyer in half, then quarters. “No worries. I have it under control.” I take another step toward her. “Seriously, I do this kind of stuff all the time. I know we haven’t, um, talked much lately, but I can⎯” Ava’s smile is cold, nothing like before. Shit. I shouldn’t have brought up the her-and-me stuff. “I got it. Just being dumb, right? Nothing I can’t handle. You take care of yourself, Flora.” She tucks the flyer back into my bag. For a second, she’s close enough that I smell her warm, woodsy perfume, but she walks away before I can get another word out. I’m being dumb, right? She just remembered that she doesn’t want to talk to me, that’s all. So why is my chest suddenly tight with dread? I shake off my confusion and chase after her, but by the time I round the corner, she’s already gone. I tap my pen on the worksheet in front of me. Balance the equation: C5H8O2 + NaH + HCl → C5H12O2 + NaCl I usually like the tidiness of balancing equations, but today I can’t focus. Was Ava worried, or am I manufacturing an excuse to talk to her? Or maybe she was scared, but she didn’t want to talk to me about it? “Dude, please. You have to listen.” Two tables away, Damian Rivera scribbles on a slip of paper and slides it across the desk to his best friend, Penn Williams. Penn knocks the note to the floor without looking up. The space beneath his desk is littered with scraps of paper. I lean forward in my seat. Is that a bruise on his cheek? It’s a faint yellowy-purple, like he tried to cover it with makeup. That’s not sketchy at all. “Please,” Damian hisses. “Let me explain.” Penn’s chair scrapes against the linoleum as he stands. He grabs the bathroom pass off its hook and stalks out of the room. Is it me, or is he limping a little? Mrs. Varner calls out, “Ten more minutes, guys, then we’ll discuss.” I’m only on question two. Between Garcy and Ava, I have enough intrigue in my life for one day. I drag my attention back to the double displacement reaction on my paper. Balance the equation… Penn never returns to class. When the bell finally rings, Damian races out the door. Rushing to hunt down his friend, maybe? Those abandoned scraps of paper are still on the floor. I shouldn’t. The last thing I need is to get sucked into the breakup of Penn and Damian’s bromance. I bend down and scoop the notes up. The first one says: I’m sorry. Please talk to me. The second: You have to understand. And the third: You don’t know what she’ll do to me. I pocket the scraps of paper and leave the classroom. “I have so much to tell you.” Cassidy Yang, my best and only friend, waits for me in the hall. She’s kind of impossible to miss in her oversize safety-orange sweater. Straw-like blond hair peeks out from under her gray beanie. She bleached her hair months ago, and now the black is making a comeback. When I try stuff like that, I look like an idiot. When Cass does, she looks like she’s in some magazine spread on street style. “What’s up?” I ask, my mind still half stuck on Ava’s terrified face. Cass and I make our way down the hall. She’s practically vibrating with enthusiasm. One kid winces as he passes, like he’s blinded by her sweater. “They did it!” she says. “They finally approved the funds for rock ensemble.” “Seriously? That’s awesome.” For the first time this afternoon, my anxiety about Ava fades a little. “I know!” Cass does a gleeful little shimmy. “There are only seven spots in the class, though. I have to do some intense practice tonight. Auditions are tomorrow.” “You should bring some of your original songs.” Cass stops dancing. “Maybe.” I roll my eyes. I was a little surprised a year ago when Cass bought a guitar and started teaching herself to play from YouTube videos. She’d never expressed any kind of interest in it before, but she’s already really good. She still gets shy about her own songwriting, though. I don’t push it. “Hey, you’re in history with Penn Williams, right? Have you noticed anything weird lately?” Cass considers it. “Not really, but that’s normal. Penn’s so quiet.” I tell her what I saw in chem class. “You think he’s in trouble?” she asks. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong.” “Well, you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t,” she says dryly. “Should we try some good old-fashioned internet stalking? If Penn’s got issues, bet you it’s all over Instagram.” We spend the rest of the walk to her car discussing post frequency, content, and filter choices as possible clues of distress. A few times, I almost tell Cass about the strange, tense conversation I had with Ava, but then I don’t. Maybe I was imagining it. Maybe it was the same old awkwardness between Ava and me, left over from last summer. If I bring her up now, Cass will want to talk about it. It might have been eight months and four days, but I’d still rather launch myself into the blazing sun than deal with all those feelings. Cass drops me off, and I promise to call later to help her prep for the audition. “I’m home!” I call out, dumping my stuff in the doorway. “Yes, I was able to deduce that from the sound of the door opening at precisely the same time you come home every day.” My grandfather appears in the doorway. I’m about 99 percent certain he’s ex-CIA from the golden years when they had free rein to deal with those pesky Russians. William Calhoun has been retired for years, but he still wears a custom-tailored suit every day. “You know, most parental guardians open with a ‘Hello, honey, how was your day?’ when their progeny return from the battlefield of high school education.” “How quaint.” He retrieves my bag from the floor and throws me a pointed look as he hangs it neatly on its hook. The scents of butter and cinnamon draw me into the kitchen. “Did you make cookies?” “Yes, I thought you might appreciate a post-battle snickerdoodle.” “Forget those other loser grandfathers, you’re the best,” I call back. I’ve always wondered if he learned to bake when he was undercover. He’s a little too good at it. Gramps hums to himself as he dons oven mitts and pulls out a fresh batch of cookies. He’s downright cheerful today. I guess it’s as good a time as any to ask. “So, I need a favor.” He ignores me and grabs a spatula. Maybe some buttering up is in order. “I have a new theory about you,” I tell him. “You were attempting to unveil a Soviet spy stationed within the French government. You went undercover as a baker’s apprentice at the patisserie where the pinko went every morning for his petit déjeuner, and that’s where you learned this delicious sorcery.” I brandish my cookie in the air for emphasis. “Inventive.” He scrapes dried batter off the tray. “So, this favor…” No one sighs like William Calhoun. So soft, and yet weighted with such vexation. He begins transferring cookies from the baking sheet to the cooling rack. “In case I have not mentioned it yet today, I must tell you that your tenacity is a rather ugly character flaw. What can I do for you this time? Plant listening devices in the home of a Venezuelan dignitary? Order the assassination of your physical education teacher?” “Nah, I’m saving that one for a graduation present. I was hoping one of your old buddies could run a plate for me?” “I thought we had finally realized that potential love interests seldom appreciate stalking as a precursor to courtship.” “Yeah, well, if I never have a serious relationship, we’ll know who’s to blame. No crush. It’s Greg Garcy.” I pull the WANTED flyer from my bag. “The case has been cold for months, but I heard on the tip line he’s been spotted a few times in the area. I’ve got a lead on the car.” “Flora, we have discussed this.” He scoops fresh cookie dough onto the baking sheet. “I do not mind you illegally tapping into the police phone system; I simply don’t wish to hear about it.” “Yeah, yeah, I get it. You’ll call some of your friends in Virginia?” He blinks. “I have no idea what you mean. I was nothing but a humble midlevel diplomat.” “Is that why there’s a framed photo of you and William J. Donovan, founder of the CIA, on your desk?” I ask through a mouthful of cookie. “Has anyone mentioned how off-putting it is for young ladies to be so observant?” “Yes. You. Frequently.” “Well, all right, then. I will call up some of the old boys for you.” “I love you, and not because you’re my affable and genteel grandfather, but because of the goods and services I can extort from you.” “I would expect no less.” Olive walks into the kitchen. She’s dressed for ballet class, every strand of her hair pulled up tight in a perfect bun. I finger the ends of my own sloppy braid. Olive is only thirteen, but she has her shit way more together than me. “Mom called.” She grabs a banana from the fruit bowl to put in her bag. “You just missed her.” Yeah, I bet. My mother has lived in Germany for the last year and a half. She’s a painter at this artist-in-residence thing in Berlin. She was only supposed to be gone for six months, but here we are. She knows my school schedule, and yet somehow she always calls about fifteen minutes before I get home. It’s a convenient way for her to pretend to be my mother without having to, you know, mother me. “Hm,” is all I can think to say. Gramps watches me, but I avoid his eyes. “She’s good, if you were wondering. Her gallery show is next weekend.” Olive’s spine has gone very straight. She does that when she’s annoyed⎯practices her dance posture. “That’s great.” I try to sound sincere, but it mostly comes out exhausted. I don’t even know how I’m supposed to feel about my mom anymore. Olive rolls her eyes. My attempts to appease her only piss her off. Olive and I get along about as well as any sisters would, for the most part, but it’s no secret she blames me for Mom leaving. She’s not wrong. Olive turns to my grandfather. “Can we go?” “Of course.” He wipes the flour from his hands with a dish towel. As they’re about to leave, he turns to me with pretend sternness. “Allow those cookies to cool before gorging, please.” I give him a salute. “Yes, sir.” “I’ll get that license plate for you this evening.” The look in his eyes is gentle, and a little sad. He doesn’t really know how to feel about the Mom stuff, either. “Thanks.” That night, after my grandfather has plied me with more tacos than I should reasonably be able to fit inside me, I call in the Garcy tip. The cops aren’t particularly thrilled to hear from me��we don’t have the best working relationship—but Gramps cashed in a favor with the Department of Transportation and got me the tollbooth photos of Garcy entering the area, his face and license plate number clear as day. Hard for the police to ignore me when I hand them a perp on that kind of silver platter. In the state of New York, you must be at least twenty-five years of age and have a minimum of three years’ relevant experience to apply for a private investigator’s license. Needless to say, I fall short on all of the requirements. The cops pretend that I’m some dumb kid who barely stays out of their way. I play along because it protects their delicate egos and keeps them occupied while I do my job. Because it is a job. Garcy was a special case—I found him in an article about how the NYPD finally tested thousands of rape kits they’d held in storage for years—but most of the time I work for hire, and I get paid. All under the table, of course, and if the IRS ever calls, Cass and I are running a very lucrative babysitting business. I pull up all of Penn’s and Damian’s social media accounts and start combing through them. The two of them are part of that crowd that hangs out in the art studio during their free periods, so most of their pictures are of their work. Half of Damian’s feed is taken up by progress shots of a giant white snake sculpture. There are no obvious signs of distress, but one thing sticks out to me right away: up until about three weeks ago, both Penn and Damian commented on every single one of each other’s posts. And then nothing. I hesitate, then pull up Ava’s profile. I haven’t let myself look at this in a long time, but I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong and Ava was too afraid to talk. Not much has changed on her feed. Lots of pictures of her and her friends, laughing and goofing off. A screenshot of a bell hooks quote. A dark, grainy video of her playing her bass in her bedroom. I scroll down farther. I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself. There: last July. One picture, the only proof that the two of us were ever anything. A selfie she insisted we take. We’re lying on our backs; our cheeks are pressed together. I’m flushed with giddy embarrassment. Ava’s smile is as dopey and glittering as mine. No hint that a month later she would refuse to speak to me, let alone be in the same room. If you look closely, you can see the floral print of my pillowcase under her head. My phone vibrates. Ava McQueen’s name lights up my screen. There’s a flutter of fear and pleasure in the no-man’s-land below my belly button. Does she know I was looking at her, somehow? Does she want to talk to me? But she had that look on her face earlier. That dark look. “Hello?” “Flora?” Ava whispers. “I need your help.” #YoungAdultLiterature #Excerpts #Mystery/Thriller #CoverReveal
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teslatricity · 7 years
Note
Shallura 12, 17, or 20
things you said that I wish you hadn’t
Warning: some (vaguely worded, implied) sexual content at the end.  Under a cut it goes!
Note: also somewhat implied pre-Klance I guess??? they hold hands for longer than you’d expect in the situation.  I thought about angst but I’m in a good mood, so!
“Paladins,” Allurasaid over the comm, and instantly Lance’s ears perked up.  More than usual, anyway – Allura soundedannoyed, almost angry.  That couldn’t be good.  “Thecommand ship dead ahead is the one Prince Lotor is on with the druids.  If you can destroy it, you’ll cut off thehead of the Galra Empire.”
“Jeez, what’s with her?” he said, making sure this time thatthe channel was closed to the castle.  Hedid not want a repeat of what had happenedat that battle above Ultero.  “Did sheeat some bad food goo or something, because she really doesn’t have to—“
“Cut your chatter,Lance, and get in position.”  Shirowas snappy too.  Double not good.  “That ship is heavily guarded, we’re going inhot.”
“Okay, okay.  Headingto position.  What’s with you two?”
“Mind your ownquiznaking business, Lance!”
That wasn’t likeShiro.  Maybe it wasn’t the smartestthing to do, but Lance opened a private comm channel to Keith as they madetheir approach toward Lotor’s command ship. If anyone knew what was going on in their fearless leader’s mind, itwould be him, much as Lance hated notknowing the hot goss on his own.
“Keith, it’s Lance,” he said, throttling up.  Blue roared, though he could feel the threadof her amusement at his current preoccupation. “Do you know what’s eatingShiro?”
Keith sounded almost as annoyed, but he was fighting back asmirk as he responded to Lance’s comm.  “It’s not a what, you idiot.”
“Hey, look, just because I’m not his brother or whatever—“  Lancegrit his teeth, firing Blue’s laser as drone fighters attacked them, oh yeah, another flawless shot from LanceThe Man— “Doesn’t mean I don’t deserve to know.  If it’s not a what, then—“
Keith snickered, and Lance watched the Red lion perform aperfect loop around one of the pylons reaching out into space from Lotor’scommand ship, blasting its base.  Thepylon—holding several weapons emplacements—broke free and floated away in afiery blaze.  When he wasn’t beinginsufferable at Lance, Keith was apretty good pilot, he guessed.
“Shiro’s upset becauseof a who,” Keith said, and closedthe comm channel.
After that they had no time to talk; Lotor ended up gettingaway, but they had made a sizeable dent in his fleet and had done some seriousdamage to his flagship, and Lance figured the guy’d be licking his wounds for awhile.  All the time they needed to keepadding more allies to their ever-growing Voltron Alliance fleet.  Still, his thoughts turned back to how crankytheir leaders were, and who might bethe source of it.
The post-mission debrief was even more interesting.  UsuallyShiro and Allura stood side by side at the head of the table, going over whatthey’d done well and what could have been improved and strategy for the future,but today Shiro sat as far away from her as he could, arms crossed as he staredat the action replays that spun out above the table.  Coran would occasionally look between them,sigh, and roll his eyes, but he didn’t say anything, Shiro wasn’t talking, and every time Allura looked at Shiro sheseemed to get even more tense and angry.
When they finished, Allura put down her tablet and looked atthem.  Her brow creased more deeply whenher eyes fell on Shiro.
“I think that’s us finished,” she said.  “Unless someonehas something else they want to say?”
Lance could see Shiro’s hands clench, and sat forward, fullyintending to demand an explanation. Keith kicked him under the table, nudged his tablet with his hand.  He’d tapped out a message on the screen:  LEAVEIT ALONE LANCE
Lance made a face and tapped a message back:  U GONNAMAKE ME
IF I HAVE TO!
“Are you certain?”Allura was saying.  She wasn’t speakingto them anymore though, she was looking right at Shiro and her eyes werenarrowed.  “Are you absolutely certain there are no more ill-timed ideas you want to admit?”
“Allura,” Coran murmured warningly, but Lance knew thatlook, and knew Allura wouldn’t be swayed from whatever she was going to do.
Finally Shiro stirred. “I’ve said all I’m going to say, Princess.”
“Is that reallywhat you’re going to go with, Shiro, because you certainly couldn’t keep yourmouth shut this morning—“
“Okay!” Coranstood abruptly.  “Paladins!  Let’s go! I’m going to make lunch and Hunk will help and we are all going to walkaway from this table and—“
“I don’t think you wantto hear me say more.”
“I didn’t want to hear it in the first place, but no, youdidn’t want to listen, you said it anywayand now—“
“Now what,Allura?  You have to confront how youfeel?  Then I apologize for being honestwhen you can’t even admit it to yourself.”
Shiro was standing, a look on his face that Lance had neverseen before.  It was hurt, it was raw, itwas—
“Come on, Lance,”Keith muttered in his ear right before grabbing his elbow and hauling him outof the room along with the others.  Lancetwisted, looking back.  Shiro andAllura  were both red in the face,glaring at each other, the air crackling with tension as the door shut behindhim and Keith.  As soon as it did, hecould hear muffled shouting.  The wordsweren’t audible, but the tenor was.
“Okay,” he said, standing in a circle looking at everyonewith equally uncomfortable expressions on their faces.  “What.”
Keith looked at Coran. “Should we tell him?”
Coran made a motion back toward the door with his head.  Shouting was still coming from behindit.  “I think it’ll come out one way oranother, yes?  Might as well.”
“Shiro and Allura… well. He loves her.”
“He what.”
Lance had never really thought he had a chance with Allura,not really, but he’d also thoughtthat her relationship with Shiro was completely professional and princesslikeand not fraught with romantic tension as it apparently was.  Keith and Pidge were now both giving him the pitying look, so Lance turned to Hunk andspread his hands.  
“Did you knowabout this?”
Hunk made a face.  “Idid walk in on them standing reallyclose together once in the kitchen, but…”
“He’s got it bad,”Pidge said gleefully.  “She’s not much better.”
“And this morning he told her he loved her, because he wasn’tsure how the mission was going to go and ever since he’s gotten back from—you know,what happened to him after that fight with Zarkon—he’s… he didn’t want to missthe opportunity,” Keith finished.  “Butit backfired, because Allura—“
“She’s been afraid of losing him again,” Coran added.  “But she’s got a lot on her shoulders, and itwas bad timing, that’s all.”
“Really bad,”Keith agreed.  “So she yelled at himabout it.  He spent the morning beatingme up and down the training deck.”
“Were you letting him win, or—“
A crash sounded from inside the room, and they alljumped.  “They’re really fighting now, guys,” Hunk said.  “Should we—“
Lance realized he hadn’t heard raised voices for a while now,but luckily when Hunk went to put his hand on the door lock, Coran grabbed itwith a strangled noise.
“I don’t think they’re fighting anymore,” he said.  He sounded very stiff.  Lance caught his meaning (finally), and felthis face go red.
“I just remembered I wanted to kick Keith’s butt again attarget practice,” he said loudly, grabbing Keith’s hand and hauling him bodilydown the corridor.  Away from the door.  “I’mgoing to leave the area and never return to any seat in that room.”
“They’re probably not on the seats, moron,” Keith muttered as Lance dragged him away.  Behind them, they heard Coran make a faintnoise of distress and then Hunk and Pidge yelling as they were moved out of thearea too.  Keith seemed to remember,halfway to the training room, that they were holding hands.  He pulled his back.
“So you think you’re gonna beat me, huh?” Lance grinned.
“I know I will.  Whoever’s got the highest score when they’re done scoring wins?”
“You’re on.
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