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#and im gonna be living at home until the end of this year at least bc i am fucking broke rn and so coming home and having to deal with that
pepprs · 2 years
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lol i hit tag limit but i have more to say so im saying it. im just afraid that if / when i get this job and then we like get existentially threatened or whatever (bc we are at the forefront of a movement that is not widely embraced yet and our entire purpose is to get people to embrace it (except… not as domineering as it sounds) but they don’t and of course are gonna push against it and threaten us) my mom is gonna be like i told you so which is only gonna make me spiral about it even more. lol
#purrs#and im gonna be living at home until the end of this year at least bc i am fucking broke rn and so coming home and having to deal with that#is going to be an actual nightmare. i just want her to be supportive and instead of’s all about how i won’t take her advice like she litera#rally texted me ‘it doesn’t matter what i think’ which is like.. true but also yes it does bc you’re my mom and also you saying that is a#TOTAL guilt trip. everything she says that’s like in my favor is a guilt trip. she will never ever ever see my side and i just have to be#able to cope with that and build my support systems outside of my family so strong to make up for what my family can’t give me but it just#hurts. like i get it you think im replacing you bc theyre like a second set of parents but have you ever considered that maybe that is#happening (and maybe this kind of thing has been a pattern since i was 6) bc there are defiencies in YOUR parenting that you have never#fully done something abt even though the signs have been CRYSTAL fucking clear my whole life. lol. like why do you think i am the way i am#maybe it’s bc every time i have an emotion you shut me down or walk out of the room or say (in effect) that im being selfish or delusional!#maybe the reason i am so happy here is bc the people ive met here have taught me that my emotions are PRECIOUS and my experiences are#PRECIOUS and *I* choose my life and *YOU* don’t and no one can ever fucking take any of this away from me!!!!!! maybe if you listened to me#for like 2 seconds instead of perceiving everything i say to you as an attack (and feeling attacked if i don’t take your advice and follow i#in your exact footsteps or want to) you would understand and the world would burst into rainbows and sunshine and birdsong!!!!! but instead#im fucking doomed bc im hurtling towards coming home to you again and again and again and you forever and ever and ever seeing me as someone#im not when i am trying to change the world and ive already started changing it. lol#delete later#idk what i just even typed im so mad im dizzy from pacing back and forth but i do like actually. have to delete this#ik she’s only saying this stuff bc she thinks i have a lot or give and doesn’t want to see me waste it on something she thinks ive outgrown#and will be unhappy in but like… i am growing and have room to grow and i am happy (except for when im not but me getting this job will fix#so fucking much of it) and she doesn’t believe me bc im just a pischer 😍#when she whips out the ‘Ok Tess’ and you know she’s abt to not talk to you until friday night at the earliest 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍
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junipers-archive · 1 year
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Power-Outage
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Word Count: 1.2k
Includes: fluff, fluff, fluff spencer x reader when a power-outage occurs and spencer being spencer and being adorably the perfect boyfriend
Dark. It is dark and you're alone and its honestly embarrassing how quickly you pick up your phone to call your boyfriend. I mean...who's still scared of the dark? What're you 5?
It's two in the morning and you shouldn't be calling, really. You've only been dating for a few weeks, but he's Spencer, he's technically been your best friend for 4 years, 3 months, 2 days. and...about 18 hours, but who's counting? You convince yourself you just need to hear his voice, his sweet, safe, angelic-
"H-hello?"his voice breaks from that of someone just woken up at an ungodly hour by his co-dependent girlfriend who so happened to have accidentally hit the call button while she was second-guessing herself.
Maybe he'll hang up? Maybe you can convince him you butt-called him in the middle of the night tomorrow at work? Or maybe-
"Y/n baby I'm really gonna need you to respond before i drive over there." he sounds calm, not at all agitated, not at all like someone woken up at 2 in the morning, he sounds...like Spencer
"Hi..." You exhale into the mic with relief. You should say something, really say something, apologize, yes that's what you'll do "I'm sorry I shouldn't have called, god I'm so idiotic...I just-well the power just went out and its 2 in the morning and I really should get some sleep but-"
You're cut off by the jingling of keys on the other line.
"Spence you still there?"
"I'm on my way." Was that a car door?
"On your wayy..." It takes you second, or it takes your un-caffienated and sleep deprived brain a second to realize he means he's coming over to your house. Your home. Where you live.
And yes you're bestfriends with him and you've had sleepovers before but that was when you were ready. That was when you had cleaned.
"No! Spencer No! That is completely unessecary! I'm fine! I just wanted someone to talk to and I thought-"
The engine of his car starts. You can hear him trying to repress the laugh that graces your ears every time he knows something you're trying to hide from his genius mind.
"I'm already pulling out of the drive-way, forget about it. Plus I know you're afraid of dark."
Maybe he'll turn around if you just- "Spencer. I am not afraid of the dark. That is childish and obsurd and I mean im not a little kid anymore! You can just go home, go to bed and forget this ever happened"
There's a silence on the other end, besides the hum of the car, absolute silence.
Until, "Do you still have the candle I got your for Christmas?"
Of course. Of course Dr. Spencer freakin Reid wouldn't believe you. I mean he knows you better than anyone. What were you thinking?
"Yea spence. Yea I have the candle"
He hums in response and you can practically hear him grinning on the other end.
You admit defeat.
"Can you at least bring over some marshmallows? I'm all out from our last movie night." You would honestly rather have him over as soon as possible if it weren't for your hideous room and the pile of "i'll get to it" in the living room haunting your mind. This will at least buy you time.
But again he's dr. reid. "I've already got some from my stash, jumbo and small and snowmen shaped. And of course hot chocolate!"
He's perfect. He's everything and more you could've asked for.
And yet. ANd yet. At this very moment you'd like to strangle him. And not that impersonal type of cowardly strangle like really just-
"Don't be embarrassed baby. I've already seen your room at its worst. I'll be there in ten, turn on the candle and read your books for now."
You hear him knock on the door a few minutes later, as to not disturb the neighbors. Because of course, he's Spencer and would've thought about that too.
You run with the only flashlight you have to the front door, and you're greeted by a ruffled, grinning and ever-charming Spencer with his satchel stuffed with god knows what and wearing his periodic table of elements pjs.
You mirror his grin almost immediately, albeit sheepishly and look down to hide your own embarrassment...only to find him wearing the pink bunny slippers he'd stolen from your house only a few days ago.
With that all or any ego-preservation skills were out the window. He was here already...right?
You let him in, still staring down at your shoes as he leads you two straight for the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets to find the ingredients and kitchenware as if he'd lived there his whole life.
You take a seat at the kitchen's island stool, and watch him work.
This should be embarrassing. I mean it is. It is!
That is, until he hands you a steaming cup of hot chocolate with little snowman marshmallows dissolving on top and smiling like he hasn't just driven 8 miles with these ingredients to make you happy because you called him.
You called him at 2 in the morning.
And with that the unease floods back. And you're hiding your face in your hands and mumbling something incoherent.
This is when he finally speaks. "So...you wanna build a fort?"
You rub your eyes and look up at him. "i-i'm sorry?"
"We should build a fort." He's assertive in this, something at another time you would've found very hot, but at this moment it concerns you. Because to any other person what you've just done would be unacceptable.
"You...want to...build a fort?"
"I find it helps, I mean...at least when I was younger my mom and dad, they used to help me build forts when the power went out. To distract me if anything. It was kind of the only time I remember them getting along."He chuckles and looks down bashfully.
And now all you can think of is building a fort with the beautiful boy in front of you.
"Yea, yea i'd really love it if we built a fort."
And you do, you build a fort with what now you deem as you're future husband. Lighting the other candle he brought you on the counter that fills the air with your favorite scent and finding battery power camping lamps in your closet to light up the room.
He tells you stories about the kinds of forts he used to build and to the best of both your abilities you try to recreate his favorite.
By around 5:30 in the morning the sun is rising and you're both past out in the center of the monstrosity you two created while high on a sugar rush provided by the hot chocolate and one two many marshmallow snowmen consumed.
But you'll remember this for the rest of your life you think. You'll remember Spencer for the rest of your life. Because no one, no one would understand how to make you forget your biggest fear like he did.
While surrounded by darkness all you could see was him.
He was your light.
He was your light, and for as long as he'd have you, you'd be his too.
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sukifoof-art · 2 months
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Do you have any headcanons you’d like to share about the Dreemurrs? What do you think Chara’s first meeting with Asriel was like? How do you think the process of settling into the Dreemurr family went? Sorry for the rapid fire questions, I’d just really like to hear your take on things 😅
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@fern717 thank u guys!!! gonna answer The Chara Asks in one go :) very glad u guys like the way i draw chara!!! theyre very strongly based off someone i knew so im glad that people seem to like their silliness <3
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as for hcs i like to think that chara was in the underground for two years at most and a year at least and they fell when they were around 11/12 and lived til 13 and that asriel was only a few months older than them and they were both very close because neither really had friends. chara was likely very dazed after falling and really surprised to see someone genuinely looking out for their wellbeing so they just went along with it like. I Might As Well. I Guess. i think chara was probably a very depressed kid who had a rough home life so falling and meeting people that would take them in as their own was probably REALLY weird to them. i think their family before the dreemurrs were very hard on them so they were held to some kind of standard to be perfect and they were convinced that if they werent also that way for the dreemurrs they were undeserving of love which lead up to their whole plan.
they needed to somehow prove that they were worthy of the love the dreemurrs gave them whereas asriel wanted them to be okay and he was a people pleaser who would do or say anything to make chara happy and he felt like he could never quite. Do That. like he felt this duty to save them and his people and everyone around him and its not until the end of true pacifist that he realizes that that was never his responsibility and he did all he could. they were both kids who had various issues and in the end chara left a huge impact despite the short amount of time they were in the underground cuz they were so loved... and for the drawing above i like to think their appearance changed a bit!! went from how they looked in the opening to allowing themself to be more loose and not as strict with how they looked as they opened up to the dreemurrs and realized that they wouldnt have to be as nervous as they were on the surface
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aliaology · 5 months
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NEW JERSEY RED
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summary: reader finds herself falling for the new jersey devil’s center even if her heart is supposed to lie with the new york rangers.
pairings: jack hughes x fem!reader
warnings: none..? just yn getting sappy as hell bc she fell for jack!! use of ‘daddy’ but not in a sexual way.
lowercase intended.
BASED ON “tennessee orange” by megan moroney
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living in new jersey wasn’t much of a difference than living in new york, at least, not to you. at times it just felt less chaotic, in a way that made you miss the chaotic streets of nyc. but moving to new jersey to become a media manager for the new jersey devils was a pro and a con.
growing up in new york city, meant you and your family were very big rangers fans. your father had seasonal tickets, every year. you went to every game with him that you could.
when your family heard you now worked for the new jersey devils, it felt like hell broke loose. working for the.. enemy? now thats foul play, you just betrayed your home team! but you didn’t regret it.
see, there was this boy. specifically number 86, a center for the new jersey devils. jack hughes. he was cute, scratch that— he was hot. you, like many other girls, fell right at his feet. of course you didn’t out right do so or show that.
but he as well— fell hard for you, maybe even harder.
not only did you work for the ‘enemy’ but now you were fraternizing with one?
you had the day off, sitting at your now shared apartment with your current boyfriend of nine months. you didn’t tell your family about him, he didn’t tell his about you. the media had no idea that the jack hughes had a girlfriend either.
your thumb hovers over the call button. the stool under you creaked as you shifted your weight. you clicked the bright green button.
it rang until it didn’t, “hello?” the sound of your mother’s voice filled the room.
“hi mama.” you spoke gently. “ive got some news for you” you told.
“finally! i havent heard from you in so long sweet girl, please tell me everything!” you could hear her smile from the other end of the phone.
you smile. “just don’t tell daddy, okay? he’ll blow a fuse.” you chuckle.
your fingers tap against the counter as you anxiously listen to her laugh. “okay, sweetie. are you okay?”
“dont worry— im doing okay. listen— i know you raised me to know right from wrong, it aint what you think, promise.” you start.
“honey, you’re kind of scaring me.” your mother nervously chuckles.
“listen, okay? i um— i never thought i’d honestly see this day, seeing how scared i was with my past relationships—“ you cut yourself off with a nervous laugh.
“i met somebody.” you told. you heard a quiet gasp on her end.
“really? honey thats amazing! tell me about him— about your relationship.”
you let out a breath. “hes got blue eyes, the prettiest eyes ive ever seen, mama. hes so good to me too, he always holds the door open, he never makes me cry. there has never been a moment where he’s made me upset.”
“oh honey..” she trailed off, sounding happy.
“im not done, mama. last weekend he took me to michigan, where his family lives. we watched a football game, a college one. his brothers used to go there. he let me wear his cap that has been on his dash forever— mama i swear i fell even more for him under those stadium lights. hes perfect.”
“but..” you trailed off.
“but? there’s a but? honey… whats wrong?” your mother sounded concerned.
“mama, you cannot tell daddy— he’s gonna think its a sin. but mama hes a player on the new jersey devils— but forgive me, i really like him, mom. hell, im learning how to golf for him mama. hes perfect, hes got a smile, mama his smile is killer. ive never seen one like it.”
“honey… you’re dad is right here, listening.” you clamped your mouth shut. just your luck.
“does he make you happy?” you heard your father ask.
“yes he does, daddy. i know hes a devil but god you would love him! i know he aint where we are from, but he feels like home. hes got me doing things ive never done. he makes my stomach burst into butterflies, he makes me blush, he makes me feel loved.” you explained.
“and you know i still want the rangers to win, daddy” you told.
you heard him chuckle. “as long as he makes you happy, sweetheart.”
you grin. you stay on the call for what felt like hours, talking about jack. when you finally end it, you feel arms wrap around your shoulders and your chest. a kiss is pressed to your temple.
“i hope you know how much i love you” jack mumbled, trailing small kisses from your forehead to your cheek and your jaw.
“and just so you know, you look better in new jersey red than new york blue.”
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i #hope this wasnt shit LMAO first time posting on tumblr 😻🤘
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semisolidmind · 1 year
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Do you think SWK would go platonic-yandere Dad mode on MK in the modern times? Trying to get him to move to the mountain instead of living/working for Pigsy, monopolizing his time with "training" so he can't hang out with Mei and all that
(i don't really do general lmk asks, so im going to answer this as if it were for the lmk version of bad end. it's gonna get x reader type shippy.)
let's say MK is bad ends adopted son in the modern bad end au, where swk never went on the journey and is one of the major villains (despite this he's surprisingly chill for most of the show? even helping MK and his friends occasionally. though the gang doesn't know that swk is mks adopted dad until later)
so, in this version of the universe, macaque has sorta taken the role of normal wukong, as in he went on the journey and is training MK in secret. he's also protecting the reader here, who's a reincarnation of the reader from the journey, i.e. target numero uno for swk for...reasons. reader is also sorta a mother figure for MK.)
i think, as MK's adopted dad, villain swk would be the strict/fun/scary type of parent. he loves his kid and wants him to be happy, but also won't allow himself to be disrespected and can be harsh. knowing that, the fact that MK's constant begging to "see the outside world" actually worked is a miracle.
MK makes all his friends and convinces his dad to let him stay with the nice shopkeep who gave him a job. swk begrudgingly agrees, thinking that knowing how the modern mortal world works would be good for him.
however, after a few years of this, swk notices that his son is spending more time in the city than with him on the mountain. he decides to visit his son at work to surprise him with a...
...mandatory home visit.
the monkey king disguises himself, knowing that looking like the notorious villain he is would attract too much attention. his deeds have left such an impression that people would still panic at the sight of him even all these centuries later, after all.
when he arrives at the noodle shop, he can't help but sneer at it. this is the place that MK gets so excited about? that he likes enough to spend hours talking about during training? hmf. at least he'll get to meet these "friends" that his son cares so much for. he's particularly interested in–
the king freezes upon entry to the noodle shop.
there, manning the register. she looks exactly the same as when he lost her, though her traveling robes have been exchanged for a shirt bearing the shops logo, and jeans, a yellow hoodie tied around her waist...
it's her.
reader. that insufferable, annoying, wonderful, beautiful, achingly gentle mortal from so long ago. the one who saw the best in him despite it all, the one he had intended to marry. the one that that traitor macaque hid from him so that she could live and die and move on without him.
she's here, reincarnated. it's got to be her. his eyes of truth can't lie, and this mortals' aura is the same as hers. she looks over at him and he's paralyzed for a moment. even her eyes are the same color.
there's a slight pinch in her brow as she gazes at him. does she recognize him after all this time, he wonders, even with the disguise? he allows himself to hope for a second... but the look passes and the customer-service smile easily takes its place on her lips.
"Hello there! What would you like?" reader says.
For you to come home with me, is wukong's first thought.
"Hey," he says instead, somewhat nervous smile on his face. it's been a while since he's interacted with regular people (that weren't cowering in fear).
"Is MK here? I've come to check up on him,"
"I'm his dad, by the way." he quickly tacks on, somewhat bashfully.
"The kid's not here," the chef and presumed owner of the shop cuts in gruffly. the pig demon is scrutinizing him, suspicion written all over his face. "He's makin' deliveries."
huh, the king thinks. one reincarnation so close to another isn't uncommon, but it's still odd to see two of the monks' traveling companions all these centuries later. especially considering the fact that these two didn't get along that well, if he recalls. but, on a more important note-
"Ah, alright then! Perhaps I'll just have some noodles while I wait. Do you know when he'll be back?" wukong attempts to sound calm, but the fact that he doesn't get to see MK right now is grating on him. that and the unease he can sense in reader at his presence.
"Well, who knows with MK. He's a good kid, but he has a tough time focusing on certain tasks," reader says, some of her anxiety fading at the chance to talk about her work buddy. "He tries his best, though."
"Yeah?" wukong smiles at reader. he can see the color in her cheeks. he knows she likes his human form, even if she's wary of him. "Y'know, he's told me about you. You're Reader, right?"
she nods, and the nervous energy flowing off of her fades a little. he can tell she's still unsure if he's actually MK's dad. he supposes he did just...walk in and say it with no way to back it up. the distrust and uncertainty radiating off the pig demon as he subtly watches the conversation is palpable.
wukong watches as reader turns at the chef's call, taking the bowl of noodles carefully and setting it in front of him.
"Here you are," reader says, setting chopsticks down beside the bowl. the king thanks her before digging in. "If you'll excuse me a moment."
though he appears occupied with his meal, wukong takes note of reader saying something in a low voice to the pig demon. he nods, and reader heads out a back door. she pulls her phone out of her pocket as she goes.
hmf. probably to call MK and ask if the (incredibly handsome) stranger claiming to be his dad is really who he says he is. wukong can imagine the way his son will stutter and panic at the fact that he decided to come here instead of one of their regular meet up points.
sun wukong can't help but be glad he did, as he uses his gold vision to watch his little wayward soulmate pace in the alleyway outside.
now that he knows that she's here, he gets the feeling he'll be spending a lot more time in the city. after all, it was because of his lack of vigilance that she taken from him the first time...
...
he won't let her get away again.
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lolmaddox · 4 months
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I guess people liked it so heres part 2 but this time in Landos pov :)) enjoy
The stream is good fun and ginge keeps making him cry from laughter, so pulling an all nighter gaming sounds like a good idea.
Until he gets a text.
The last text he sent to Carlos was this morning when he got home from italy after the award ceremony. For some reason whenever they were on the same country a text was send letting the other know. That's something that never changed between them.
Now carlos was texting him to met up in half an hour.
Without thinking twice he sends a yes and ask for the spaniard to come to his place and carlos accepts before he can even close the chat. At least he seems as excited as Lando feels right now.
"You good there, mate?" Ginge asks finally getting his attention.
"Yeah, mega" he puts the phone down and Lando its almost surpised to still be streaming "im gonna go, its getting late"
"Surely not leaving me for a hot date"
"Are you jealous, baby?" He jokes and his phone pins with a new message. Shit. Carlos is watching his stream.
After he says his goodbyes and ends the stream Lando just sits there, still processing the fact that Carlos was watching him, seeing him tease ginge and fucking moan in front of twenty thousand people.
He hides the mess behind the closet door and jumps in the shower, he doesn't really need it but just thinking about hanging with Carlos after what he just did on stream has him restless. If he's honest with himself it also has a lot to do with his tiny box.
When he met Carlos that day at the mtc his world changed in more than one way. He started living his dream and what he thought he knew about himself changed, cause after just a month every dream was Carlos Sainz. His stupid big deep brown eyes and that long hair that always looked nice, even after a race wich to be honest was as annoying as hot. But things weren't as easy as a random crush, that was his teammate for the entire year. So he put all those feelings inside a box and pushed it far away, deep down in the dark. Trough the years it rattled and treatened to open whenever Carlos was overly friendly or too touchy to be just platonic, but Lando wasn't the best at social clues so it might as well have been him reading it wrong.
So Lando keeps the tiny box closed and secured.
He gets the notification that Carlos is here when he's fixing his hair, good enough.
Fit looks good, apartment is as clean as he could get it and the box is secured.
He needs to chill. It's just two mates hanging out on a random monday at midnight, just platonic, totally not a hot date as ginge said. Just mates.
There's a knock at the door and Landos heart races off his chest.
Totally chill.
Tiny box secured.
Just mates.
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tommyshelbyswh0re · 1 year
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maybe i’m just not enough part 2- Tommy Shelby
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warnings- abit of angst.
summary- it been a year since thomas broke your heart and he shows up at your door.
part 1
It had been a year since tommy left you and kicked you out. you had moved to manchester and you became a business woman. you were proud of yourself. if someone had told you 14 months ago that you would be a single, independent woman running your own successful business selling machine parts, you would have laughed in their face. up until a few years ago you knew next to nothing about machine parts but you suppose you had tommy to thank for learning. that was the only thing you would consider thanking him for.
moving to manchester was the best thing you could have done. you had made numerous friends, met multiple business partners and enjoyed your fair share of men. in fact, you had one of your men over who was just about to leave. key word is ‘was’ because just as he was putting his shirt on, someone knocked on your door.
“can you get that for me? i’m still very naked” you laughed.
“on it” he said whilst buttoning his shirt and walking downstairs.
he opened the door and you heard a very familiar voice coming from the other side. you felt like you couldn’t breathe.
“is there a y/n y/l/n living here?” none other than thomas fucking shelby asked.
“what the fuck? what the fuck?” you whispered trying to tie your silk robe. you looked in the mirror and realised that the post-sex look was very obvious.
oh fuck it. he’s the one who fucked someone whilst we were together, not me. i can sleep with who i want. you thought.
you slowly made your way downstairs until you made it to the front door.
“what the fuck are you doing here?” you bluntly asked him.
“y/n can we talk?” he asked.
“no”
“please. all you have to do is listen” he asked.
“im just gonna head out” your man of the hour said to you kissing you on the cheek and heading upstairs to get his things.
“please leave” you asked tommy calmly.
“can you just listen? it will take two minutes” he near enough begged. as he finished his sentence, your man ran down the stairs and squeezed past tommy to leave.
“what, grace fucked off and now you want to talk to me?” you scoffed.
“can you just let me in?”he deadplanned.
“no”
“okay well can you at least hear me out and then i’ll leave i promise”
“tommy i wouldn’t trust your promises even if we did get married” you laughed in his face.
“listen. i’m genuinely sorry for sleeping with another woman whilst you were at home planning our wedding. i thought i loved her. as soon as it became an official relationship with her i realised the version of her i wanted was a completely made up fucking person in my head. i missed you. waking up without you there, coming home to you singing in the kitchen whilst baking something which was going to end up burnt. not having you keeping me company by simply just sitting in my office so i wouldn’t go insane by reading words on a page for 10 hours straight. not having you moan at me for not eating, tortured me. not having you with me tortured me. if i could go back and burn that fucking letter, i would. I miss you.” he blurted.
“but you can’t go back. life doesn’t work like that. the letter was delivered days before you went to london which meant you had time to change your mind and you didn’t. you were certain you wanted to sleep with her. you fucking kicked me out tommy. i have my life back. i have friends, i have a business i’m happy thomas. do you want to fuck that up for me?” you asked him. you were stern. you were not going back to play housewife with a man you treated you like you were nothing. no fucking way.
“no ofcourse not. i just want you to come home. you have friends at home.” he sighed out.
“i am home. this is my home. i have made it my home” you desperately pleaded with him.
“this isn’t your home. this isn’t you. sleeping with men you don’t know” he looked at you in disgust.
“how fucking dare you? you don’t know anything about me now. your the one who slept with another woman whilst i was sat at home worrying about if you would like my fucking wedding dress. or if you would cry when i walked down the aisle. you don’t get to call me a whore. when i met you, i though i had found the person i was going to spend the rest of my life with. you chose grace. i’m all pieced back together now. you do not get to come to my home and ridicule me about how i chose to repair what you broke” you raised your voice. you chose to pull him into you home after that in fear that your neighbours would stare at you through their windows.
“y/n i didn’t mean it like that” he shook his head.
“yeah you seem to do a lot of things that you regret” you scoffed. you walked into your kitchen knowing that he would follow you. you poured rum into a glass and handed to him as he sat at the kitchen table.
“i don’t-“ he started.
“just drink the fucking rum thomas” you said sternly.
“where grace then? did you kick her out aswell?” you asked.
“she moved out months ago. and before you ask it was on her own accord. ‘said it was clear i was having second thoughts and that she was going back to america”
“well at least she was smart enough to get out” you smiled fakely and to which he sighed.
“look i know you hate me but is there anyway we can fix this?” he said very candidly.
“no. no theres not” your eyes welled up.
“can you just think about it?” he asked
“think about what? what do you want from me thomas?” you deflated.
“coming back to birmingham” he asked you.
“i’d say yes but we both know i wouldn’t. and i’m not about be a liar as well as a whore like you” you laughed.
he started laughing with you which surprised you.
“this is fucked. can we atleast be friends?” he asked.
“we can be business partners” you proposed.
“i’ll take what i can get” he shook your hand.
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tmnt-obsessed-ace · 2 months
Note
We know about how Ghost would react to your SSDF au but what about your original iteration tmnt: solar flare?
Idk if I should answer this since I have barely even TALKED about tmnt: solar glare on this blog. Let alone actually get the turtles ref sheets made. But on the other hand making Ghost suffer is very fun...
So Im doing it anyways
@bluepeachstudios Im borrowing the sad old man again (he's too much fun not too)
Putting it all under a read more because spoilers for a lot of major plot points in solar flare. If you dont wanna be spoiled dont look
You have been warned :)
The first thing Ghost would think is "How the shell are these kids not dead?" Because the turtles are absolute DANGER MAGNETS
These absolute idiots, on their first night being on the surface:
FOUGHT THE GODDAMN SHREDDER
NEARLY GOT KILLED BY THE SHREDDER
Got sent to the Spirit Realm
Got attacked by angry spirits
Accidentally CURSED themselves by messing with something they were absolutely not supposed to mess with
Barely escaped the Spirit Realm, now fully cursed
Accidently UNLEASHED dozens of angry spirits into New York
And to make matters worse they got discovered followed back home by a HUMAN (April)
That was NIGHT ONE
Ghost and his brothers were lucky, they only fought Mousers and the Purple Dragons on their first night
And it only gets worse
That curse I mentioned, it has pros and cons. The pros being that it can turn the boys into literal shadows, enhance their strength and speed, make them near completely invulnerable to attack, actually let them attack the previously untouchable spirits, (let then turn into giant shadow monsters), etc. The CONS on the other hand is that the curse is slowly KILLING THEM. Draining more and more of their energy, breaking their bodies a little more each time. And the more that the cool shadow abilities are used the faster the effects are, the worse they'll get and the longer they'll last. Yeah. Ghost would absolutely not have a good time with that. (And would most definitely devote as much time as he could to trying to create a cure or at least find a way to lessen the side effects)
Anyways then theres the matter of the Spirits running loose, very strong, very angry vengeful spirits. That cant be knocked out or killed, they have to be banished back to the Spirit Realm. Which is not at all an easy task. (And considering that the boys will at one point spend an entire WEEK fighting those ghostly fucks practically nonstop to the point that they dont even go back to the lair until they are literally about to pass out from sheer exhaustion...yeah not fun. Ghost might have to carry them all back home) And there's also the Shredder and his growing army of goons causing trouble. Point is Ghost is gonna have a REALLY hard time keeping the kids from constantly fighting for their lives against incredibly strong enemies instead of actually being kids. Poor Ghost
The constant stress and fear along is definitely straining the boys' relationships with each other.
Especially between Leo and Raph. The two closest siblings of the family. The ones that said they were twins and stood by that for their entire lives.
And now they're arguing practically all the time. Cant even go one mission without at least one argument. Leo making reckless plans thinking they'll work perfectly fine then panicking when things inevitably go south and Raph getting angry at him for "screwing up" only because Raph is absolutely TERRIFIED. And Ghost trying to be the mediator, but its hard when you have two incredibly stubborn sixteen year old boys at each other's throats. (Ghost is reminded of the many many Raph-Leo fights that his own Raphael and Leonardo used to have. Only somehow, these are worse.) It just escalates and escalates further and further until one night.
When Raph and Leo actually FIGHT each other.
And it ends when Raph full on quits the team and leaves. Leaves Leo alone on that rooftop, in the pouring rain. (Ghost will never forget that shocked, borderline horrified look on Leo's face as the reality and the guilt over what just happened sets in)
Raph doesnt come home.
Ghost thought he just needed time to cool off but he still doesnt come home. It gets to the point that he tracks the red clad turtle down.
Only to find him in the Footclan headquarters.
Raph had joined the Footclan because he was so tired of the fighting, the arguing.
(Obviously Ghost would go over there to try and break Raph out by any means necessary, even when Raph refuses to leave. He didnt want to join his family's biggest enemies but he was angry when he said yes and now he thinks he's in too deep to leave, even despite Ghost's attempts to reason with him)
Which leads to Leo to do something really, really, really stupid. Not saying what because major spoilers but it ends with him willingly offering himself up to be taken to another dimension in exchange for his family being spared the same fate.
What would happen to him there? Ghost doesnt know.
But that swirling white portal, his child being handcuffed and pushed through despite how hard everyone, Ghost included, is begging for this not to happen, no matter how hard he fights against his own restraints he cant free himself, it breaks something inside him.
All he can do is watch helplessly as Leo disappears into a portal, just like he did when he was sixteen himself, presumably to never be seen again.
Leo is gone for an entire month.
An entire of Ghost obsessively working on the portal with Donnie, trying so so hard to get it to work so they can find him. A month of trying to keep the family together and comfort his poor children who are falling apart at the seams. (Donnie doesnt sleep much anymore, trying so incredibly hard to get the portal working, even moreso than Ghost. Mikey teetering on the verge of a breakdown, going out with April and Casey to search for any signs of Leo every single night. Raph is consumed with guilt, it had been HIS fault that this whole mess happened, and now the poor boy is trying desperately to help his family while also trying to defect from the Footclan, which isnt easy.) A month of searching for the people that took Leo away, a month of hoping and praying that Leo was alright.
And then Leo comes home, with a white samurai rabbit in tow (Despite everything, Ghost finds it a little amusing that some things never change, even across dimensions)
He's different now. Quieter, not nearly as excited as he used to be. His arms and legs are completely wrapped up in black wrappings, up to the shoulder and upper thighs respectively. And he refuses to take the wrappings off. (He now has a slight limp on his right side, his brothers dont notice it but Ghost absolutely does.) And most importantly he refuses to talk about what happened when they were separated. Always saying "Its nothing." "I dont wanna talk about it." "There's nothing to talk about." "I'm fine."
Ghost is worried about him, obviously something happened. Something bad enough to turn the silly, dorky, hero-wannabe kid into this quiet, reclusive, guarded boy. Usagi knows as well but just says its not his story to tell.
Ghost tries to talk to him but every time he gets brushed off. (He did manage to figure out it somehow involved the Battle Nexus, from the tiny bits of information Leo shared. Though he highly doubts it was the same Battle Nexus he used to know) All he can do is provide comfort whenever Leo seeks him out, usually late at night and usually the result of a nightmare. (Which have become much much more frequent, only adding to Ghost's worry)
And unfortunately Leo is not the only one going through hell.
Because not long after Leo's return and Raph finally leaving the Footclan, Mikey gets captured. It would be bad enough if it was Shredder or the Krang. But it is so much worse and makes Ghost's blood run cold.
Mikey was captured by the EPF.
Ghost vividly remembers how a similar situation happened to him and his own Michelangelo. (How Mikey was almost dissected in front of him, how his own mid was torn apart for all the world to see. Bishop...)
The family hurriedly breaking into the EPF lab, hoping that they'll find Mikey in time.
They didnt.
Mikey wasnt as lucky as Ghost's Michelangelo.
Bishop, that sick twisted bitch, actually cut Mikey open.
Ghost's worst fear had been realized.
(Ghost never wants to see Mikey's bloody plastron and exposed ribcage ever again for as long as he lives. Watching his frantic heart gradually slow the more blood gushed out.)
And it only gets worse
Because Mikey, in a desperate last ditch effort to try and escape, he somehow activated a part of the curse that no one knew they had.
The ability to transform.
He had turned into a massive DRAGON made entirely of shadows (the only reason they knew it was him was because of the bright orange markings on the shadow dragon's body.)
And the dragon went on a rampage, obliterating the EPF lab including majority of the staff. (Unfortunately Bishop survived, which was a shame) and once the lab was destroyed it attacked New York, trying to tear everything apart in blind fear and panic. (Those terrified screeches will haunt Ghost for the rest of his life.)
It nearly killed them all trying to calm Mikey back down enough to get him home and stitched up. (And then clinging to Ghost like a scared koala for a very long time, not like Ghost can blame him.) And the worst part of this whole Dragon affair? Mikey cant CONTROL IT.
So that means the second his emotions get out of control, here comes the terrified dragon that will lash out at anyone perceived as a threat. (Which is anything that moves.)
And each time Mikey is beating himself up with immense guilt and fear that he will hurt the people he loves.
This is only the tip of the Solar Flare trauma train.
There will be more. (Raph and Donnie are gonna get their's too. So will April, Casey, and Splinter)
Other traumatic/weird events include:
Donnie getting kidnapped by Karai, which leads to April and their parents getting kidnapped. Which leads to April getting thrown off a building and Karai losing her entire arm. April is only 13 in this au btw so oh boy Karai better fucking run because once GHOST hears about that she might lose more than an arm.
Leo gets turned into a cat
Raph and Mikey get kidnapped by clowns
The boys get captured by an alien bounty hunter and taken to a completely different galaxy. Poor Ghost is gonna have an absolute heart attack.
The boys bring home a giant sea monster and keep it as a pet in the sewers. (They name it Jeffrey. Ghost left them alone for five minutes HOW DID THEY DO THIS?!?!)
Both RAPH AND LEO get thrown through the window in the Krang invasion. And Raph ends up in a coma (Leo already had his turn in a coma) Ghost having an absolute heart attack reliving this awful moment TWICE.
April's parents find out about the turtles (and later their paternal grandparents find out when the fam go to stay at their farmhouse)
The turtles are gonna be stuck in a timeloop for an entire month. (The entire month leading up to the Krang Invasion. They went from having a month to prevent it to only having a day and a half. Which is why the invasion happens.) Ghost will never forget that look of pure dread on his kids's faces when they looked up at the blood red sky filled with krangships. This is exactly what he didnt want to happen, his kids having to grow up too fast and get into problems far too big for them.
Also bonus: the turtles first meet Casey by literally RUNNING HIM OVER. The kids call Ghost frantically saying that they "accidently murdered someone what do we do?"
Poor Ghost, poor traumatized turtles
Lol
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dykevanny · 3 days
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idk if you’ve talked about this before but what do u think nessa’s childhood was like? bcuz there’s the whole implied daddy issues and abuse AND the fact that her dad made her make him sound better in court so he would get custody and then her mom died (is that what happened? i might be wrong i havent listened to the tapes in a while) but basically im wondering what u think her childhood was like or at least what ur interpretation of it is
SMILES :) HI
I do in fact think her father was abusive and forced her to lie abt her mom in court which lead to her suicide. I think Vanessa was raised catholic,, she was sort of an accident and ness’s mom got pregnant before she and bill were married so the two of them kinda had to . Prepare unexpectedly. Bill has mixed feelings on having a bastard daughter, but ness’s mom doesn’t really care and loves her kid so much. She’s trying her best,,
Bill has some other issues fun fact !! He presents himself as this great upstanding citizen with a wonderful life and morals, he sends his daughter to catholic school, his wife is a stay at home mom, he’s got a nice office job, you know. He’s also got a nasty drinking problem though, and takes out his anger at his self-perceived dead-end life on his wife, and rarely vanessa. Oh no :( … eventually!! Ness’s mom is like damn you know what. Just sitting in this hell marriage is not gonna protect me or my child at all I need to divorce this man . Anddddd we all know what happened then 💀 bill got full custody from flipping the entire story to make her seem like the villain- and who’s the judge gonna believe, the frantic woman or the widely-liked guy and the crying kid testifying? Anyways yeah Vanessa entirely blamed herself and thinks she killed her mom. She was the one to find the body actually. Her father only got worse and more controlling, and eventuallyyyy she split! Originally her alter called itself Vanny (which is why she doesn’t like being called that by malhare much later) and vanny was lik e . Ohhhmygod we need to get OUT of here. So after some saving up and preparing (and after a few very big fights that resulted in some nasty bruises) 15-year-old Nessie and Vanny ran away! Skipped town even. She camped out with an online friend for a while, and bounced around until finally at age 18 xe could buy xeir own shitty little apartment … and next year she got a job beta testing a video game..! So um yeah <3 the minute she got full autonomy and settled into a fairly comfy living situation everything got flipped on it’s head and she went through daddy issues THE SEQUEL with our good friend william ‘malhare’ afton .
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creativebrainrot · 3 months
Text
Open Journal Entry - New Years (2023)
okay so i canNOT be coherent but fuck theres a lot on my mind right now.
this year was the worst fucking year of my life- it's atLEAST in the top 3.
We faced near-homelessness, awful food insecurity, the death of two beloved pets, the death of our abuser, of 20+ years, after he had only been out of our lives for two/three years at that point, and he did it to himself.
Our car broke down, our debt got worse, our abuser's family tried to take out home from us, they were such cunts. We had been trying to sell our house all year, we didn't succeed until a month ago.
I lost my first ever cat and it still hurts that she might be here right now if we had only had more money saved. She had a great life but I wasn't ready to let go of her, and I don't think losing BK will ever stop hurting. I miss her sweet little face so much. I miss her sweet little chirps and her silliness and just her presence so fucking much. it's agonizing. I miss her.
This year was one in four awful fucking years.
I don't know if 2023 was worse than 2022 for me. They feel like the same year. It was fucking awful.
But.
Last december, I forced myself to reach out. I made myself make a little "hey does this fandom have any guilds or discord servers for/by gw2blr?" post before I went to sleep for the night. I made myself reach out right before I had to sleep so that I couldn't panic and take it back.
It was one of the best decisions I've ever made for myself. I made my first ever friends from that decision. In fact the person (hi silv ily silv (/platonic)) who invited me to the gw2 server I hold so dear (hi slei ily slei and stuu ily stu /platonic kissy ur forehead) Is one of my closest friends now.
I have, a lot of issues. with trust and self-love and self-worth and I still struggle so much with thinking im not good enough and that everyone will find someone better etc etc I've made insanely good progress AND i have never before had people in my life that I feel like I know I can trust with myself. i am staring directly at my good friends Silvesi and Wynn/Straywyvern. shoutout to you to Specifically.
AND
im throwing affection directly at all of my friends. sorry im just like this not sorry receive affection for the new year CUNTS-
I absolutely love talking with Silv & Wynn & Del, you motherfuckers understand me on a very specific and unique autistic level ily and i love talking to you and infodumping to you and shitposting with you etc etc we need to be more insane with eachother more often beloved friends etc etc my besties <3
I've met so many people who while im not as close with them I love and am so fucking happy i met them and got to be friends with them regardless. lieflet, stu, slei, mabi, dot, lynx, fox oh my god theres so many of you.
youre so creative, kind, fun, chill, I feel safe with you and I love being stupid with you and im so glad I met the lot of you.
I've met so many fucking artists I admire so much through slei's gw2 server and that server is so relaxed and fun and chill I miss being able to hang out with you all in game. "your idols are your peers" lives in my head rent free as quote because its so true and I love. I Love.
im rlly hoping this next year my dad and I can fucking relax. for TWO minutes. oh my god.
I miss being able to relac. I miss feeling safe. I miss, so much. But not the last four years, and not that shit house I grew up in.
What I look forward to is pestering my besties more and more as I become more and more confident in myself and what others seem to see in me. I can't see it, but I'm gonna try and trust the words you say to me more and more.
Even if I end up being right, my worst fears come true, eventually. I'm gonna put in the effort like this is "forever" because we deserve to try the best for ourselves Right Now.
here's to the new year At The Very Least not getting WORSE.
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storiesofsvu · 1 year
Note
Hey girl! Glad you have some time off!
How about Mike Dodds - "what exactly am I looking at here?"
hahahah I MEAN, i only work 2-3 days a week anyways LOL. but having particularly Saturday off is weird cause our numbers are usually higher on Sat (hence why im the second bartender in, it's more guaranteed that i'll end up working) but it's a long weekend so i guess not this week (but ive gotta manage tmr so...)
ALSO, gonna do these as like, little blurbs/sceanrios so i don't put too much effort into them and lose all the motivation to work on the ch's i'm also doin rn lol
You loved Mike with all of your heart, you had from the moment you'd laid eyes on him. Goofy grin on his cheeks, laugh barely faded from them, sparkle in his eye as he joked with a friend. Then he glanced your way, catching you watching and everything from the smile to the sparkle grew by a tenfold. You blushed, quickly glancing away before looking up again and his gaze was still on you, the smile softer, but one that you'd never forget.
It didn't take much longer after that first night for the two of you to fall in love. You spent each weekend together, exploring the city and taking full advantage of the autumn celebrations. As the weather cooled you took even more advantage of the excuse to curl up inside on the couch with a fuzzy blanket, giving Mike puppy dog eyes until he gave you all the perfect cuddles you desired. You were engaged on New Year's Eve, at an intimate yet fancy party at the Dodd's brownstone and there wasn't a dry eye in the house.
You had the perfect life together, and not long after the wedding you gained another family member when you gave birth to your first child. After your second was born, Mike started to feel a little apprehensive about continuing on his work with the NYPD. He wanted to make sure that you and the kids would always have him, that he wasn't going anywhere and he couldn't guarantee that with his career. So he put in his papers, retired from the NYPD with a full pension to be a stay at home dad and he had never been happier.
Mike was an amazing husband, and he was an even more incredible father. You weren't sure how he would handle it at first but he was an absolute rock star. You'd get the kids up in the morning together before Mike would give you a kiss and the kids would swarm you with hugs before you left for work. And each day when you got home dinner was at least started if not ready while the kids were tuckered out on the couch occupied with tv, colouring or playing quietly together. They'd tell you about how Dad took them on adventures each day, and occasionally you'd get presents from places like the zoo or aquarium, or sometimes even just a cool rock from their time at the park. Whatever adventures they went on you were never really sure, especially on the days that they didn't leave the house.
That was until you decided to call it a half day and left work early. You picked up a pizza, some soda and a case of beer for Mike on the way home. You knew you were earlier than normal so you expected a little bit of a surprise, but you certainly weren't expecting what was on the other side of the door.
The living room was both torn apart and put back together. The torn apart meant the cushions of the couch were gone, blankets strewn across the room. The put back together meaning that they were all intricately hung up around the room, stuck to the ceiling beams and extending out, pinned to the walls on either side. It appeared they'd used every blanket and towel in the house to make the ultimate blanket fort, full of every single pillow and the blow up mattresses you used for guests. The fort overtook the tv and you could hear it playing, little giggles and laughter coming from within. You placed your shopping down on the counter and the sound alerted Mike, his head popping out of the corner of the fort. He had that wicked bright smile on his face and you couldn't help but smile in return.
"What...exactly am I looking at here?" You asked, raising a brow and Mike laughed. Before he could even reply the shrieks of your children echoed through the room before they burst from the fort, racing toward you for hugs and kisses.
"Daddy helped us make the best fort!" Your daughter squealed, shrieking as you scooped her up, peppering her face with kisses.
"It's real cozy inside!" Your son explained, accepting the kiss you dropped onto the top of his head.
"I'll bet. How about you two go wash your hands and we can have dinner?" They scurried off down the hallway as Mike crawled out of the fort.
"You're home early." He greeted you with a tender kiss, "sorry. i was planning on having it all cleaned up."
"Don't worry about." You popped up on your toes to kiss him once more, "I got pizza. is it really that comfy in there?" You nodded toward the fort and he laughed, but nodded.
"Surprisingly so."
"Well, it's almost halloween, let's do some festive movies and have dinner in the fort."
There were gleeful shrieks from both kids at that, jumping up and down as they got to choose what kind of pop they wanted with their dinner. Mike wrangled things while you got changed into something cozier and the four of you made your way back into the fort. Mike tossed an arm around you as the two of you leant back into the bottom of the couch and once pizza was done you each ended up with a kid on your lap. Wiped out from their full adventure day with dad it didn't take long before both of them were asleep in your arms and you were carrying them to be tucked into bed.
"I'll clean this up." Mike murmured, kissing your cheek as he nodded toward the living room and you let out a little hum.
"Why don't we leave it for the weekend? Have a little more fun."
"Ya sure?"
"Yeah." You looped your arms around his shoulders, kissing him again, "i love you."
"i love you too."
________________ @fandom-princess-forevermore @hhroadgirl @qvid-pro-qvo @skittle479 @altsvu  @lawandorderimagines @whimsicallymad @classylady1234 @averyhotchner @mysticfalls01 @plaidbooks @mrsrafaelbarba @ssaic-jareau @barbasbodaciousbeard @alwaysachorusgirl @rafivadafreddy @australiancarisi @wandas-wife @thestarrynightslover @lustvolle-liebe @sia2raww @cycat4077@xoxabs88xox @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @borg-queer @misscharlielulu
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acaciapines · 4 months
Note
Your nanowrimo pieces are soooo goooood they hit so hard fr fr. I’m especially LOVING today’s one with the owl & the collector even tho I don’t rlly know that much abt toh bc I haven’t watched it but I can tell that u LOVE IT & I can’t wait to learn more thru osmosis once the fic is poooosteeeed✨ (i WILL read it i PROMISE i SWEAR)
Anyways give us the thoughts, the tea, tell us how you make the words do that✨ anything u wanna give in regards to today’s bit!! We’re not picky!
Hope y’all are doing okay! Gal says hi :) Remember to eat and drink something, take breaks, and look after yourselves and each other! We love you! This has been a Daily Interaction Ask <3
he he :3 im glad youre enjoying!! its been really fun to pick out my favorite bits even when usually those are the ones w/out context lol. look at my owl and weep boy. firefly <3
YOU WILL LEARN SO MUCH VIA OSMOSIS....literally now that im also doing something for s1 its like. why watch owl house we have owl house at home (the owl house at home is a 1 million word daemon au) (<- 1 mil is not a joke btw idk if it'll hit it but itll at least come very close. no idk why i did this.)
as for today! hmmm...
its truly so fun to write the collector. like im not joking about him being my favorite owl house character despite his maybe twenty total minutes of screentime, so its been such a JOY to expand his role in this series!!
bc like. god. actually i think i wrote a whole like. bit of flash fiction/prose poetry type thing for them a while ago. probably in my files somewhere. but just. youre an immortal eight year old. you are in these years where you need to interact with other people for your own mental stability and health. to figure out the whole Being A Person thing. and you are trapped for like, centuries. trapped away from everyone and everything and DUST, which, in universe, in literally connection personified. you're cut off from all of this.
and you are, let me say again, eight years old.
truly the collector is just. hes had everyone he ever cares about leave him--his siblings the other archivists left him behind not out of any sense of cruelty, really, but because caring about people just isnt really a thing they do. quite frankly they live so long they didnt even notice. theyre far-away stars. not far because they're mean. just because thats what stars do.
and then king's dad (who um. doesnt have a name <3 this is why the collector calls him 'the big bully' its literally bc i never gave him a name--) was an adult the collector actually trusted and looked up to (he meshed REALLY WELL into titan society until the archivists started Doing A Murder since titans are the only beings that match them in power and they have very very different ideas about dust). like ive said before the collector is owlbeastkin but before that they never had a super stable sense of identity--in another world where they stayed w/ the titans they wouldve ended up a titan.
and then king's dad just. trapped him in a tablet forever.
and like, to be fair to king's dad he was reacting out of fear and the best knowledge he had (he assumed the collector led the archivists to the titans, and like, he did, but its not like he knew he was doing that, and, you know, poor guy had seen a huge chuck of his fellow titans killed including babies and eggs of which he had an egg to consider), but it still TRAPPED THEM. and then he died and so did all the rest of the titans so nobody could free the collector even if they wanted to.
and then BELOS, who manipulated and lied to the collector for so long and was also literally his only friend after being alone forever, so like, of course the collector just blindly went along with whatever he said. he was gonna free them!! he listened to them when they talked about stardust which nobody else ever did! he had no idea what the fuck a witch was! he just liked being able to see the stardust sometimes, and belos brought him to places with a lot of stardust. to destroy it, but like--you know. it was THERE.
but all these people were just USING them, and they never really understand that until king comes around. and king's also a scared eight year old!! but like. king's also not wrong. the collector did aid belos in destroying the entire isles. like no joke belos SUCCEEDS here. like not long-term obvi this has a happy ending but at the point we're in at for the future? it doesnt matter that the draining spell failed. all the palistrom trees are dead. witch society Cannot come back from that even if they did end up beating the collector. theyre doomed.
anyways what was i saying. collector. right.
so like, then they meet firefly/grr-click-growl/wings-across-night/the owl beast (king of having so many names i love her <3) and shes like, the first person who cares for them and ISNT using them. even king is using them!! but firefly has seen Some Shit. she sees the collector as a hatchling who was kicked out of his nest and is doing her best to be some sort of stable figure for him, but she doesnt Not see the stuff he's done.
the collector took over the world bc he's scared--all he's ever known is being used and trapped so he doesnt exactly trust most people easily. firefly would Love to not be in this world anymore. shes also got a loyalty to eda and king and luzmari. and, like, cool motive, still trapping an entire society of people.
but like. shes the one who is here right now and nobody else is trying to help this kid.
but the collector just. hes just an eight year old. a very, very old eight year old. but he doesnt understand things like "you can make the wrong choices and still choose to do better later" and "im mad at what you did but that doesnt mean i dont care about you."
he just sees someone upset with him. just sees another person who used him and doesnt care and is going to leave bc everyone leaves him and in a world where EVERY SINGLE PERSON comes in pairs, hes the only one who stands alone.
basically tl;dr: collector my beloved <3
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quieteeks · 1 year
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I'm curious to know, what is the thought process behind your creation of comics? Do you have some checklist of certain situations you want to see the characters in? Does it just come naturally to you? Is it self inserting that helps? I want to create and post comics too but whenever I finish them my only thought is "this is so cringe I can't bear to post this" I want to know what's the mindset that you approach your creations with. (That's one loaded question I apologize, I really love what you do❤️)
SORRY IN ADVANCE IF THIS IS RAMBLING im 100% down to clarify in anything that might need it!
so comics are... really hard actually, so dont worry about feeling kinda lost to begin with! (tbh i dont feel im all that good at them myself, and im on year, uh, 4 (i think?) of making pages with some sembalance of regularity) if yall want i can put together some books/resources etc at some point too, since im a bit of a self study.
i tend to get hit with ideas in stereotypical "lightbulb moment" fashion, but i actually think in animation/motion rather than comics so dedicating ideas to the page has been an ENTIRE learning process for me. thumbnailing/figuring out panelling is easily the hardest part of a set for me and doing complex thumbnails can take me a LONG time, and even then i tend to end up making last minute changes. So grain of salt I guess, bc my process is kinda chaos.
So ive got an idea- usually a decent idea of what the dialogue is, and a bit of an idea what the 'staging'/''choreography' of the central moment is-- in the Escape comic, for instance, its that shift alan does from a scary monster to a lost child--- then from that moment i think is cool, i try to find the context that will make that central idea really hit home, (i worry I'm a little formulaic at times bc the larger comics are usually set up almost like jokes with a setup-punchline-reaction structure lmao, but i think thats just the nature of smushing a rising action-climax-resolution into shortform pagesets) while sort of... trying to who these people are without just Saying It where possible. So I try to slip mannerisms and body language in, and i try to phrase dialogue in a way thats kinda revealing to a characters mindset/personality/background/whatever. (this is just a really long way of saying I try to give characters strong Character Voice)
so i guess in a way there is a checklist, bc ive had ideas and i typically know where they fit on the timeline and i want to put all of these scenes on the table, because on some level they do sort of interlock with eachother-my hope is that when you read the threads with everything in order, youre like oh my GOD THATS why character is WAY in that set, THATS character throwing other characters words back at other character! etc I wanna get people invested by showing them whats in my head, because i think its way more effective that way.
THAT SAID things will never be exactly as we imagine them when we put them to paper, and thats ok. your art has to go through the seive of actual creation to make it to other people. i think thats for the best tbh bc no matter how complex and exactinng we think our ideas are, the nature of ideas is that until you put them into motion you kind of dont realize how many holes youve left open and BABY THATS SPACE TO PLAY WITH.
some stuff that is not me rambling wrt making your own comics (or fic, or illos, or animations!) tho:
-you gotta do the thing to get more comfortable doing it (this is my mantra when im struggling with drawing something out of my comfort zone)
- cringe is dead, long live cringe. no matter how cringey you think you are, as long as your work is honest, at least one person out there is gonna connect HARDCORE to what youre doing. (and being self indulgent is UNBELIVABLY motivating)
-you dont have to show people things youve made if you dont want to! its still experience under your belt.
-youd be shocked how often "what i wanna see/read" and "what i want to make" are different things and "gettin out of your comfort zone" is super important, but its honestly ok to lean into your natural inclinations too.
hopefully this was helpful or interesting in some way!!! make comics! i believe in you. 😤👏
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astranite · 7 months
Text
Funny story: today I rescued a chicken.
This got kinda long but it is fairly funny and has a happy ending. Also there is Thunder and Birds involved, but not in the usual way. And I have no one to give the blow-by-blow account of the saga to, and I Need to Tell Story. So dear friends, *drags you to sit around my figurative fireplace* enjoy my tale!
(Minor warning of reference to past animal death.)
Because the universe really does have a sense of humour, this all started when I was sitting outside, because it was a nice sunny day, while reading @gaviiadastra's 'Chicken Dad' series. (its great, Im only 5 chapters in, go read it!)
And then I hear loud chicken clucking noises. Which I am understandably very surprised to hear. There is some *looks at laptop* *looks up again* "What the fuck???"
So I go out to investigate. I find a chicken. A very cute, fairly large black hen with the slightest green sheen to her feathers. In all likelihood a Black Australorp.
Outside my yard, just chilling. And still bok-bok-boking loudly.
And I'm like, "huh." And wow, that was not just my imagination.
Now backstory time: My family used to keep chickens, a small flock of them living happily in our yard. I loved them very much, and I kinda still miss them even though it was years ago now. They also had ridiculous triple-barrel names.
Tragic backstory time: One of our chickens got eaten by a fox. (it was extremely upsetting, the chicken was our friend.)
There are also a whole bunch of outdoor cats around the neighbourhood, and a highway nearby, and generally a lot of dangers to escapee chickens. So I'm understandably pretty worried about this chook, because its also lateish afternoon and will get dark. And just leaving it there really doesn't fly with me.
Time for the rescue plan: I'm going to catch that chicken, then figure out where it lives and return it. Because I vaguely remembered some neighbours keeping chickens, and a door knock around should point me in the right direction. (Or if not, I get to keep chickens again, y'know, if it still needs a good home.)
I put shoes on, because stomping around in my slippers is likely ill advised, grab a crust of bread because it the best chicken attracting thing i can quickly find, and yell to a family member where i'm going, getting the underwhelming response of, "Uh huh, sure."
Plan A: Lure chicken close to me with bread and catch it once it is in arms reach.
There is some throwing of pieces of bread, me making inviting clucking noises (actually one of my talents, I have fooled people with it before,) me staying very still, the chicken slowly coming closer.
Eventually the chicken is pecking the bread piece from my hand. I take my moment. My fingertips brush feathers. The chicken runs off. Note to self: chickens are fast and I'm very out of practice at chicken nabbing.
Takes two through like eight or something: Lure chicken in, gain its trust, wait until it gets really close, then catch it.
And nope. The chicken is having None Of That. It still gets a fair bit of bread bits, thrown out around me. And its having a merry old time, wandering around, pecking at grass, and being adorable. (I really like chooks, they're cute.)
By this point my butt's gone numb and my shitty knees are Complaining. And I've been at this more than half an hour, like seriously, this chicken has mastered the art of 'close enough for snacks, but not close enough to get got.'
And I am Very Patient (in some circumstances, such as these, though not all), but I can also hear thunder as a storm is coming in. And this clearly isn't working. And the chicken is wandering away. And I'm at least ten times its size and supposedly the cleverer one here.
So onto Plan B: Get me close to the chicken. Catch the darned chicken.
I get up, shove the bit of bread in my pocket, stretch, then calmly walk after the chicken. Because panicky chicken could definitely out-sprint me. And we're gonna avoid that. I'm also hoping the whole 'persistence predator' thing pays off.
Additional context notes: I live right next to a park. Sort of. There's several metres of rocky cliff between the row of houses and the park. And a narrow strip of land between said cliff and houses. Which is where me and the chicken are, of course.
So there is the additional difficulty of 1) dont chase chicken off cliff (the chicken would be fine, its only couple of metres high and it has unclipped wings. Also would be new problem of chicken running loose in big park.) 2) dont fall off cliff because i dont want to explain it to family/curious strangers/paramedics that this was all because of a chicken.
There is a lot of very careful manoeuvring. Some tactical retreats because that chicken really likes that cliff edge. An amount of bush bashing. Some strategic climbing of slopey parts where it's not so cliff steep. I run into sticks and tree branches and spiderwebs. I Follow That Chicken.
There is a stand off. A rout. I direct the chicken towards the houses and manage to corner it with a fence. And then I've got an armful of somewhat flappy chicken until I get the wings under control. Then I've just got a chicken. A very sweet chicken who is now pretty chill with being held.
Return of the Chicken: It's the first house I go to. I ring the bell, no one answers. I wander round the side a bit thinking maybe I ended up at the back door with all the chicken chasing. A dog spots me in the window and starts barking. So I stand there to wait for that to get someone's attention because I'm 90% sure its the right house.
Person appears in window. Me: *waves* *points at chicken*
Epilogue: It was confirmed that the chicken belonged there. The person was very grateful for the return of their chicken. And wasn't too put out by a rando showing up at the door with a chicken in their arms. Me in my red chequered flannel and possibly covered in leaves. The chicken did not have a name, I asked. I suggested Jailbreak as a suitable one.
I gave the chicken one last pat then handed her over (somewhat reluctantly. She was a very soft, fluffy, lovely chook) (and I named her.) (I really miss having chickens, if you can't tell that already.)
I went home and after a while it stormed, seriously like right on top of us with no break between thunder and lightning. Very glad I got the chicken before that. And got inside. I also won't tell you how long it took to find the bread still in my pocket but I'm very glad it didn't go through the wash. Now I blogged on tumblr about it.
And so the chicken rescue saga comes to an end, with all parties safe and dry and no one even fell off a cliff. Also I got to hold a chicken and that was a major win for my day!
*THE END*
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thathetaliablogg · 2 years
Text
I’m thinking a lot again about my university fruk au and idk if I’ve talked about it much here so im gonna talk about it - I call it the university au because the first half of it takes place there but it actually extends beyond that into their adult lives too :) LOOOONG TEXTPOST INCOMING
But basically it follows Arthur and Francis in their lives as uni flatmates living in halls, going to a university located in britain somewhere. Arthur is a 1st year music student and Francis is a final year fine art student! They’re both undergrads and were just randomly assigned flatmates, which is how they met in September! They initially hit it off pretty badly. Arthur thinks Francis is annoying and pretentious, the way he actually cooks in the kitchen, the way he paints in the living space like a posh artsy weirdo. To him, Francis seems to have everything right; he’s a good artist, he seems to have lots of friends, he seems to have a stable amount of money, and he seems to have won the genetic lottery as far as his looks go. Arthur hates him. On the other side of the coin, Francis thinks Arthur is rude, loud, and unnecessarily mean. He plays his guitar loudly in his room, opting for metal riffs most of the time, and he often comes home almost dangerously drunk at five in the morning, slamming every door he goes through and waking Francis each time he does. Arthur seems to have it all wrong; he’s messy, he never does chores around the flat, he’s rude and rejects any and all of Francis’ attempts to be friendly, and he seems to be a danger to himself with his constant nights out. Francis doesn’t like him, but he tried, at the very least.
It’s only as Francis begins to overhear some things that he starts to see a bigger picture to the issue. In a way, he was almost jealous of Arthur in the beginning. This boy had a rebellious nature, and didn’t seem to care what anyone thought of him. Francis, who would admit that he worries too much about what others think, definitely envied that quality. Even more so, Francis was jealous of the fact that Arthur seemed to be in a committed relationship. I mean, really, how was it that rude, mean spirited Arthur could have a boyfriend to always be hanging out with, and Francis, who was a hopeless romantic with a lot of love to give, could never get anyone to stay? It drove him mad. That was, until, Francis started to notice the cracks. At around the end of November, Francis removes his headphones to… yelling. A lot of it. There is a door slam, and presumably, it was Arthur’s boyfriend, leaving after a fight. Francis puts his headphones back on. After all, it’s none of his business and it is not unlike Arthur to be starting arguments - at least not in Francis’ experience. But then Francis notices that this is becoming an increasingly common occurrence, and the fights sound like they’re getting worse. Since Arthur’s room is next door to his, he hears almost everything, but Francis feels his stomach drop for the first time when, after several door slammings, he hears Arthur crying. Presumably, all alone, in his room.
When Francis thinks about it, he hasn’t really seen Arthur much for the past couple of weeks. It’s early December now, and Christmas is coming up, so Francis had put it down to that, but…. Something doesn’t feel right. He knows for certain that he hasn’t seen Arthur come to the kitchen at all for a day or two, and the only times he’s heard him, are when he comes back drunk in the middle of the night again. When Francis goes out to buy himself some ingredients and some snacks, he can’t help himself from picking up a couple of instant noodle packs, and a bottle of lemonade. He puts them in a separate bag to his other food, and after putting his own shopping away, he stands outside Arthur’s door, hesitating. Francis was sort of nervous, expecting Arthur to be angry with him - that’s how he always seemed. He might slam the door in Francis’ face, and maybe then, Francis would never try to befriend him again. It felt safer not to. After consideration, Francis knocks anyway, and waits for few seconds as some shuffling occurs. Arthur opens the door with a tired look on his face and, after an awkward and short conversation, Francis offers the bag to Arthur. Arthur takes it hesitantly, peering inside before he looks up and meets Francis’ eyes. A lot goes on in that short and wordless exchange.
Things go on the same for a while, until the Christmas holidays roll around. The other flatmates leave, and as it turns out, Francis and Arthur have the flat to themselves for a few weeks. Francis opted not to go home since it’s expensive to travel, especially around the Christmas season, and Arthur does not specify why he didn’t go home. Francis is sort of enjoying the Christmas holidays, since he mostly has the living space to himself, it’s easier to paint or sculpt in that area. Arthur comes in occasionally, to get some food, and usually leaves - but he is not hostile anymore. Suddenly, there seems to be some sort of understanding between them. Francis is sculpting in the living area one day, when a sudden voice makes him jump.
“What are you making?”
Francis turns, and Arthur stands in the doorway with a can of off brand fizzy orange in his hand. Francis looks at him, and then he looks back at his piece.
“Well, it’s a sculpture, for one of my modules. It’s abstract, it’s meant to represent how I feel.”
“Hm.” Arthur stares at the piece for a little bit. “I never understood abstract art.”
“Maybe abstract art isn’t supposed to be understood. Sometimes abstract art is the only way we can present a complicated emotion.” Francis replies, and Arthur gives a single nod before he leaves.
After that, they seem to talk more. Not only is there an understanding, but there is an interest. One day, Arthur informs Francis that he has broken up with his boyfriend. Francis is really glad. Really, really glad. He’s just glad that Arthur is safe. Arthur becomes less of a cryptid and chooses to accompany Francis in the kitchen a little bit more often. Maybe abstract art is worth something after all, he decides. Maybe he understands some of the pieces now. Francis’ art is pretty. Like it’s maker. Francis finds out that Arthur’s family doesn’t exactly approve of his choice in degree. As an art student, Francis gets it. Arthur learns that Francis is trans too. Arthur is pre-everything, and notes how Francis always respected him without ever questioning his voice or his body. With a soft smile, Francis reveals he has been taking hormones for a year or so now. Arthur seems to show up in the living space even more. Francis decides he doesn’t mind Arthur’s guitar playing after all. He’s good at it, actually. Francis asks if he can sing as well. Arthur gets out his guitar, sits down with it, and proves it to him.
By the time the academic year gets into its second half, around mid-January, Arthur and Francis are comfortably friends, and their friendship only grows. Arthur reveals that he doesn’t like their other flatmates very much, so when they return from their Christmas break, the two start to spend time in each others’ rooms. Arthur’s room is not as disgusting as Francis expected. It’s rather messy, with eyeliner smudges and pink hair dye splatters decorating the bathroom, but Arthur seems to make an effort to at least have his sleeping area clean. Francis’ bedroom is pretty, with fairy lights hung up and satin sheets on his bed. It smells strongly of perfumes and body sprays, and Arthur wants to pinch his nose at first, but he gets used to it.
By the end of April, feelings too intimate to be called platonic begin to develop. The academic year will be drawing to a close in just under a month, and then they will have summer together. In August, Francis will have to leave, and, being in his final year, he won’t be returning. Francis tries not to think about it, Arthur can’t stop.
On a warm night at the end of May, the two are hanging out in Arthur’s room. The setting sun peers through the windows. Arthur sits on his bed, and Francis sits on a chair. They are just talking. Somehow, the topic has gotten onto relationships. Francis confesses that, sure, he’s hooked up with people before, but he’s never actually been in a real relationship. Francis says that he only seems to fall for people who are unavailable, or wouldn’t like him in that way anyway. Arthur asks him what he’d do if someone did like him that way. Francis hesitates. He says it would depend on who the person was. Arthur asks, what if it was me? Francis jolts and stares at him. Arthur repeats what he said, but with clearer wording.
In June, Arthur and Francis hold hands on their walk to the supermarket, under the beating sun. On another day, they go to a local dessert place together. Francis asks if this is a date. Arthur says it’s whatever Francis wants it to be. At night, Arthur lays on Francis’ chest and mentions that his ex never let him do this. He would just use him and then leave. Francis holds Arthur a little tighter that night, and makes sure he falls asleep first, rubbing his back to soothe him. On a morning, Francis makes omelettes in the kitchen. He makes two. Arthur hugs him from behind, and plants a kiss on the back of his neck. They are young, and their romance is awkward, and new to both of them, but they love each other, and that’s all that matters.
In July, Francis paints a portrait of a person, and Arthur writes a song about one.
Then, August arrives.
August is cruel, and the end of summer signifies a loss of warmth. The days are getting shorter, and Francis has left. The two try to stay in touch, but it is hard. With so many things happening in their real lives, sparing time to text and call becomes increasingly difficult. Francis has to find a way to survive, financially, and Arthur has to study harder as he progresses in school, and deal with the new people he is surrounded by.
One day, Francis goes to message Arthur. The message won’t go through, and it makes Francis cry. He wishes he had stayed. He couldn’t have afforded to. Arthur didn’t want to have to change his phone number, but his old ex wouldn’t stop harassing him, and he was desperate for peace. It hits Arthur suddenly one night, that he hasn’t heard from Francis in months, and he knows it’s his own fault. He finds Francis’ number, and tries to text it. The number is out of service.
When Arthur is in his mid twenties, his band is doing small shows around the country. He’s happy - his bandmates are good friends, he’s had some decent relationships here and there, and his band, while not famous by a long shot and combined with his part time job at a warehouse, brings in just enough money to pay the rent and buy food. Really, that’s all Arthur needs. By now, he’s been taking T for a long time, and he was even able to get top surgery last year. Things are going great, in fact. When the vocalist and leader of the band tells him they booked the band’s first show abroad, Arthur is ecstatic. This is huge for the band!! If this show goes well, it could kickstart the band into stardom - at least, that’s what he hopes - and in Paris, too! Surely the venue would be stunning, or something… (spoiler alert it’s some shitty basement club). Arthur can’t wait.
Arthur and his band have just arrived in Paris for the weekend. It’s spring, the perfect season for new beginnings, and the band are having fun touring the city and sightseeing. They’ve been saving for months, and plan on making the most of this weekend.
It’s outside a cafe that Arthur sees him.
Arthur freezes up entirely, trying to process it. It can’t be, it can’t be, he tells himself, but it is. Sitting on a wooden stool, with an easel and a painting facing him, palette and brush in hand, with his long hair tied back in a bun, it’s unmistakably him. He looks older, but not by much. He’s even more handsome, having fully grown into his features. Arthur hesitates. Would it be weird to just approach him like this? Should he leave him alone? Arthur should leave him alone. He turns away, and then he stops. If he doesn’t say something now, the possibility of never, ever seeing Francis again is more than real, it’s almost certain. Arthur turns to look again. Francis is stunning, and Arthur swallows the lump in his throat as he tells his bandmates that he’s going to talk to someone. Arthur walks over through a crowd, and his whole body is shaking. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how to open. He doesn’t know if Francis even wants to see him again.
“I like your painting…” Arthur says, and he can barely get the words out.
Francis turns, slowly, and meets Arthur’s eyes with shock on his face. He doesn’t say anything as he gets up from his seat, facing Arthur, who notices the tears welling in his eyes.
“I didn’t quite recognise your voice, I thought it couldn’t really be you-“ Francis replies, his voice shaking.
There is silence between them, before Arthur shakily offers his arms, and Francis throws himself into them. Francis cries, hard. Arthur bites back tears, holding him like the world depends on it.
“I missed you, I missed you so much.” Francis cries. Arthur responds that he missed Francis too.
That night, Arthur doesn’t join his band for post gig drinks. He rushes outside and into the taxi that’s waiting for him, to be driven off to an apartment he has never been to before. Someone special is waiting there for him. He throws himself at Francis, who somehow lifts him and spins him around. They hug and kiss and stay up all night together, talking and cuddling and loving each other. Francis introduces Arthur to his cat, who seems to take a liking to Arthur right off the bat. Francis comments that she usually doesn’t like strangers like that. They dance and play and talk some more, exchanging their new numbers, email, addresses for physical letters, anything to make sure they can’t lose each other again. Francis makes sure that Arthur knows that the loss of contact wasn’t actually his fault, it just happens. Arthur makes sure Francis knows he will do anything in his power for it to never happen again. Within hours, they are so close again it’s like they were never apart, and except for when Arthur is playing gigs, they spend every hour of the weekend together. On Sunday night, Arthur begs Francis to come back to England with him, even if it’s just for a week or something. Francis drops his cat off at his sister’s, and goes with Arthur. They spend more time together, inseparable for the entire week, and at the end of the week, Arthur surprises Francis with a ring. It’s not an engagement ring, or an expensive piece by any means, but Arthur says he saw it and couldn’t help himself. He hugs Francis tightly as Francis bursts into tears again, leaning on Arthur’s shoulder as Arthur kisses his cheek.
Francis needs to go home again for now, but this time, they do not fall out of touch. They will find a way to be together permanently, somehow. The ring is a promise of that. When Francis was younger, he painted a portrait of Arthur. It hangs proudly now, as one of his many original works. It even got to be part of an exhibition. When Arthur was younger, he wrote a song about Francis. He gets to play it now, at his gigs. The vocalist never sings it quite right, but Arthur lets his electric guitar be the one to really sing the song, the way it was meant to be.
They both know they will find a way.
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narcolini · 2 years
Text
when the crows come home, 4
part one / part two / part three & ao3 link
angel reyes x gn!reader, part 4 of ?, 4588 words
a/n: screams. finally get to bring in some angel pov and some spanish AND some OCs. im chomping the bit - also theres translations at the end (thankyou @yourlocalspacewitxch​ love u)!
taglist: @drabbles-mc @cositapreciosa @ashlingiswriting
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Angel didn’t mean to fall asleep here. He really didn’t mean to fall asleep here. 
He was talking, no, you were talking, he was listening, for most of the night. Until you weren’t. Until you were asleep. Well, who knows which person went first, it doesn’t matter, really. He doesn’t remember. All that matters, is that he fell asleep in your bed, still dressed, and that was never the plan. He was gonna leave, back out the window and onto his bike before it got too early to be pointless. So much for that. Instead, he fell asleep like he was already home, with your TV flickering over him instead of his own. 
It’s still on now. He’s still in his kutte too, and he fucking hates sleeping in his kutte. Shit feels like sleeping on a saddle, rigid and hot, so hot, once he starts sweating under it. 
God, he hopes you haven’t noticed the sweating. First time you’ve shared a bed and he’s damp under his shirt, behind his neck, across his fucking brow.
He stares at the ceiling above your room. You haven’t moved yet, besides the lift of your shoulders and the push of your breath over him. You don’t know that he’s awake and thinking himself into something like a nightmare.
Didn’t mean to cross that boundary, right, Angel? To fall asleep with you against him, face on his chest, patches probably leaving imprints on your cheek. Santo Padre pushed into the skin in that same blocky font. Way too fucking soon for that, yeah? Why not seal the deal and go have breakfast with the parents, too? 
So much for taking it as it comes, for letting you figure your own shit out, before stuffing himself into the middle of it all. If he’d known this would happen, he’d have rode off last night when you didn’t answer on the first dial tone. 
Fuck. He didn’t mean to leave his bike out in the open all night, either. 
He’s out of the bed faster than he should be, considering you’re sleeping still, but the bike’s there when he looks through the window and the relief of that quickly overshadows any guilt he has about waking you. Thank God, you live in a neighbourhood full of pensioners. No-ones even looked twice at his bike. The helmet’s still swinging from the handlebars. 
‘Angel?’ 
You’re disorientated, obviously. He’s just thrown you onto the mattress like you’re an extension of the sheets. 
‘Hey.’ He wipes his palms against his jeans and turns back to the bed. ‘I just.’ He stops. It must look like he’s trying to escape through the window, caught in the act before he can even touch the frame. ‘You good?’ he asks, hoping he looks relaxed, or as normal as someone can be in this situation. 
You nod and make a noise that’s almost readable as a yes.
That job shit really got to you. This is the longest you’ve gone without telling him something about himself, or cracking a joke that makes him so annoyed, but so glad you’re back. He misses it like you’ve gone mute.  
‘Sorry,’ he explains, though you aren’t awake enough to care, ‘I thought someone might’ve stolen my bike. Forgot your neighbours are, like, five hundred years old.’
You’re propped on your elbows, squinting at him like the sunlight’s blinding you. Your hair’s flattened on one side, your lips are dry from breathing through your mouth—yeah, that’s something he’ll use later—and honestly, you look like you haven’t been awake, or human, in a year at least. But he wants to get back in, he realises. He wants to apologise again, lie down, and put your goofy sleep-struck face back onto his chest like he’d never moved at all.
And that is a very fucking loco thing to be thinking on a Thursday morning. Looking at you, biche.
He puts his hands in his pockets and keeps his feet firmly in the same spot on the carpet. ‘Guess we fell asleep,’ he says, because that’s better than suggesting he stays and wastes the day with you.
‘Fuck,’ you mutter, before rubbing your eyes with your fingers. ‘What time is it?’
His phone’s on your bed still, under your stomach—he can see the edge of it beneath your t-shirt. When he points it out, silently, you oblige, taking it and clicking it once to read the time. 
For a second, his gut tightens, because he know’s you’re seeing it again, the photo Potter sent him. But you know about that now, to an extent. He forces a breath until his lungs deflate. The kid’s not a secret anymore. You don’t even react when you see him shining back at you. 
Annoyingly, it doesn’t feel like a relief yet. There’s still things he hasn’t told you, things that could make you react worse than ‘I have a baby’ did—though, that, you took better than he ever imagined. Freakishly well, really. It’d be weird as fuck if he wasn’t so used to you and your calculated responses. A lot has changed since you went away, but you weren’t a liar then, and you aren’t now. As far as he knows, anyway.  
‘Well, house is empty,’ you say afterwards, words still nudging into each other with sleep. ‘You're good to use the door.’ 
Like that’s what he’s worrying about. He hadn’t even got to thinking about your parents yet.
‘Alright.’ He nods, taking the phone when you hold it out for him.
Should he leave? Is that what that was? Just a polite way of saying, get out please, we made it fucking awkward, right? 
He half expects you to say it out loud, but you don’t. 
Instead, you fold back into the bed, arms collapsing under you, head pushing into the pillow he’d been using. There’s no reason for you to get up, he guesses, but that doesn’t stop him from feeling conflicted about it. He almost wants to drag you up and make you come with him, but Bish would have something to say about that. Fuck, all of them would have something to say about that. Even EZ would find some smart-ass comment to make.
‘You gonna be okay today?’ he asks, watching your face, your eyes closed already.
You murmur a yeah. Lying, clearly. 
He’s never seen someone actually look depressed while they’re falling asleep before, but you’re managing it. He can see you waiting for the bed to swallow you whole. Something about the way your shoulders are sitting, all tucked into yourself. 
He cant help himself; he has to say, ‘Text me when you’re up, alright?’ like he’s got you under 24-hour supervision. Like he has some right to know. 
Your answer is another hum, followed by, ‘Go do your job, Angel. M’not a kid.’
You aren’t. You’ve dealt with worse, without him, plenty of times before. He’s gotta remember that. He shouldn’t need prompting. 
‘Sure, biche,’ he replies, but you’re already asleep, lips parted slightly.
__________
Letting himself out is easier than he expects it to be. Though, really, why would it be hard? House looks the same as it did when he was there to eat pizza and watch WrestleMania on the box TV in your living room. God, that was a lifetime ago now. You taped it for him, when you remembered, and he’d come round to watch it, sitting inches from the screen. Highlight of his week, every week.
That’s one thing that has changed actually, it’s a flat-screen now. Your parents have welcomed more of the 21st century into their home than Pops ever has. He’d still use the black and white set if he could. He didn’t change it ’til him and EZ pitched in for a new one. 
The front door locks as he shuts it behind him, which he’s glad of. Least you won’t get robbed while you sleep the day away. Then, he’s back into reality, down the steps from your porch and over to his bike like nothing has happened. No sleepover, no boundaries crossed. Just back to the grind, same as every day. Feels good. Feels right. He takes a breath big enough to fill his lungs before swinging his leg over.
It’s border work this time, fucking baby seats, of all things. Like he wants to spend his day carting those about, knowing he’ll never need to buy one himself. 
He sighs, back curving as he slouches into the seat. 
Gotta stop thinking like that, man. Won’t make him come home any quicker. 
‘Yo.’ He’s called EZ before even touching his helmet, or the keys in the pocket of his jeans. His brother’s groan cracks into his ear in place of a hello. ‘I wake you up?’ Angel asks, fighting the urge to hang up again. The one time he’s up before noon and every other person he talks to is dead-set on being sleeping beauty.
‘Yeah, actually.’ EZ groans again, then clears his throat until he sounds lively. ‘Thought we weren’t meeting til twelve?’
‘Sooner we start, sooner we get it over with.’ He was already thinking about the beer waiting for him afterwards. Ice cold, condensation up its neck. ‘You gonna be ready when I pull up?’
‘Fuck, no.’ EZ laughs. ‘I gotta shower and eat something first, bro. Gonna be a long fucking day.’
Wrong answer, but it’s too early to argue with him. ‘Alright,’ Angel sighs, ‘I’ll stop by Pops before I come to you.’ He pulls the keys from his pocket and turns the ignition, hoping EZ can hear it through the phone. Hurry up, it says, don’t keep me waiting, hermano. ‘Someone should probably check on him, anyway. Make sure he’s eating and shit.’ 
‘You nearby?’ 
Angel snorts; imagines himself saying, Yeah, I’m near by. Wanna hear a crazy story, bro? Guess where I slept last night.
But that’s another thing it’s way too early for, so instead he says, ‘You’re supposed to be showering, fool.’ Then he pins the phone to his shoulder and reaches for his helmet. ‘You got an hour, no más. Entiendes, carnal?’
‘Alright, relax,’ EZ complains. ‘Man, I like it way better when you’re the one oversleeping.’ 
Yeah, me the fuck too.
                                                          *
Heroin-stuffed baby seats. Ironic even to Angel and he barely knows what the word fucking means. Made to save kids in a car crash and they’re filling them with dope, sending them right past border control with someone playing sweet little Mommy behind the wheel. 
So dumb, but it always works. World’s funny like that. 
‘That all we’re moving?’ he asks, shining the torch over EZ. 
They’re by the tunnel’s exit still, EZ stuffing the load into the cushioning of the car seats they’d brought. Thank fuck, they got to avoid the dirty job this time, left that part to Gilly and Coco instead. He hates going through the tunnel. Shit always sticks to his hair: cobwebs, dirt. He’s the only one tall enough to brush the fucking top of it. 
‘That’s all there is,’ Gilly answers from behind.
Well, fuck.
‘Shit’s not gonna last long out there,’ he says, though it’s obvious, but someone’s gotta say it.
EZ looks up at them. ‘Neither are we if it stays like this,’ he says.
And that’s even more fucking obvious. 
‘Will you hurry up?’ Coco whines, clinging from the ladder still. He’s poking out the hole in the ground like a prairie dog. A prairie dog in his abuelita’s wig. ‘I’m fucking itchy man, this shit is clinging to me like fucking asbestos or some shit.’
EZ ducks his head again, shoving the final package into the seat.
‘It’d be quicker if you helped, asshole,’ Angel says, earning him a, fuck off, go do your part, in return.
Yeah, don’t have to tell him twice. He can’t wait to get out of this shit-hole and back into the open air.
‘Have you noticed Coco’s got cranky lately?’ EZ asks, once it’s just them again, a car seat in each set of arms. 
‘That’s what he’s always like,’ Angel answers, eyes rolling. ‘I used to live with him, remember?’
Used to make breakfast around him like he was cohabiting with a viper. So bite-y until he’d had his breakfast, or a smoke.
‘Probably forgot his morning coffee or some shit,’ he adds, though he can tell by EZ’s expression that he already doesn’t agree with him. He’s got that line between his brows like Angel’s said something stupid again. His favourite fucking expression lately. 
Angel looks away before it can piss him off. 
‘Pops didn’t get out of bed,’ he says after a minute. ‘House is a fucking mess, too. Dirty dishes everywhere.’
When he went, Pop didn’t even return his hello. Didn’t even lift his head to look at him, standing in the doorway. Somehow, it felt worse than arguing does. He’d rather that, Pops telling him how much of a constant disappointment he is, than whatever this is. Silence stings in a way he can’t shake off.
EZ sighs beside him, switching the seat to rest on his opposite arm. ‘What’re we gonna do, man?’
Angel shrugs. ‘Fucking no idea. I’m not good at fixing people, bro. That’s your job.’
‘Since when?’
‘Um,’ he shoots EZ a look, ‘since forever?’ 
Since Angel went to Chino, before he’d even turned twenty-one, since he ruined his relationship with Pop and fucked up every good thing he had going for him. Since he scared you away, right out of Santo Padre. 
‘You’re good with people, Ezekiel. Pops will listen to you eventually.’
‘Fucking hope so.’ He tuts. ‘I hate seeing him like this.’
You get used to it, Angel wants to say. That’s how it was every fucking day when EZ was in Stockton. But he knows what the answer will be. You went away too, you know. We had to deal with the same shit, Angel. Mum as well. 
So, he says nothing, and he sets his eyes on the car of the poor woman who’s gonna take this shit through the border. 
                                                         *
Finally, finally, he gets his God damn beer. He feels like kissing it, but he takes a sip instead. Fucking beautiful. He lets the rest of them fall into conversation, along the bar to the right of him—he took the end seat for a reason—and enjoys the quiet he’s pretending he has. Lets himself think, properly, for the first time today. 
Until he’s interrupted, that is.  
‘You depressed, homeboy?’ Coco laughs, looking down the line, past Gilly and EZ, to target him. ‘Looks like you’re gonna cry or some shit.’
‘I’m thinking. Jesus.’ Can’t have a minute to himself without a fucking interrogation. He rubs a palm over his face, then sets it on his beer again afterwards, rings clinking against the glass. ‘Was thinking if I knew of any jobs going,’ he explains, reluctantly. ‘Got a friend that needs some work.’
Gilly shrugs. ‘Always need more mules going over the border.’
‘Fuck no. Not that shit.’ The idea of it almost pisses him off. No, it does piss him off. The thought of you sitting there, drug-filled baby seats behind you. He’d rather be the one taking that risk. Him and his ‘arrest me’ looking self. So, no, not that. He takes a swig of his beer to wash the sour from his mouth. ‘Something above board,’ he says, ‘legal. Something normal people do.’
EZ laughs. ‘Do we know any normal people?’
‘Ha-ha.’ God, he’s hard to talk to sometimes. So quick, it’s annoying. ‘It’s for…’ He stops himself. Things shared at midnight, in the quiet of bedrooms, don’t usually come with a free pass to tell other people. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he finishes, head shaking. ‘I’ll think of something.’
Then, right on cue, you message him. He knows, because his phone vibrates against his chest, jumping alive from the inside pocket of his kutte, and no-one else texts him lately. Besides EZ, and that fool’s sitting shoulder to shoulder with him.
Thanks for last night, the text reads, and, yes, I just woke up.
He smiles. Then sniffs and rubs a hand over his mouth to wipe it away again. No problem, he types back. You feel better?
He does, anyway, miles better, in fact. About the baby, about the two of you. About being useful to someone who isn’t paying him to be. 
So much, you reply. Ready to take on the world.
Shit, watch out Santo Padre. He hopes you laugh at that, lame as it is. Hopes you snort in that way you do. The typing bubble pops up again as he takes another drink. 
You staying out of trouble? you ask. 
The answer comes easily. Hell yeah, good as gold, biche.
He didn’t mean for it to be a lie, Gilly and Coco just have really, really bad timing. The moment he hits send, and looks up from your conversation, is the exact same moment that Gilly punches Coco, sending him right into the back of a uniformed soldier. Right into a group of them, even, flattening Coco and the one nearest onto the pool table behind.
Who knows what they were arguing about, who knows who was in the right, or how it went from beer-side talk, to a physical fucking fight—between men who are supposed to be brothers, he might add. Angel doesn’t know, or care, that’s for sure. What he does know, however, is that when a soldier throws a punch at one of his own, yeah, that’s when it becomes everybody’s problem.
EZ turns to him, as he reaches the same conclusion Angel has. ‘Shall we?’ he asks.
Angel swallows the last of his beer. ‘I think we fucking shall.’
And, fuck it, he’ll bring the bar stool too. 
                                                         *
He was getting his ass beat. Not this time, not now, but then, fucking years ago, in Chino. In the fuck-up that took his stay from twelve months to eighteen. It was a fight that lasted all of three fucking minutes and it got his sentence extended, without debate. Could have been worse, of course. Could’ve ended up dead in the yard for running his mouth, again. He hadn’t worked out how to survive in there yet, didn’t know when to joke and when to keep his mouth shut. How to make friends and who to avoid all together. Couldn’t get it right, at all, until Gabe had taught him how. 
That was the first time he’d spoken to him. Gabriel ‘Gabe’ Trujillo.
He’d got to Angel before the COs did, pulled the brawl apart like he was shucking corn. Pulled Angel right from under the guy, Boney—yeah, dumb name, that’s why it started, Angel just had to tell him that—and set them away from each other like children. Got involved before it got too bad, while Angel was still able to stand.
‘Pinshe mocoso cagadero, ‘tás tratando de que te maten?’ he barked, all up in Angel’s face.
He stood in front of him, voice hard like he’d been fighting himself, not watching it happen, and waited for an answer. Like Angel could give him one, like he could even focus on the guy. There was two of him, he remembers, their heads going in and out of each other in the blur. 
‘What?’ Angel parroted. ‘What?’ 
He was bleeding from his brow, dripping red over his eyes. His own head was spinning from the hits he’d taken. He couldn’t understand English, let alone Spanish, but that’s all Gabe ever used with him.
He didn’t look at Boney either, didn’t even address him. Just stood between the two of them, his back to the other man, chiding Angel like a kid.
‘Pues, quieres morir,’ he said, ‘es eso?’
No, Angel tried to tell him, who the fuck are you? No, he doesn’t want to die. 
But before his mouth could catch up, the COs had arrived, and then Angel was against the fence, wrists pulled together behind his back, Boney slammed into place beside him. Somehow, that was the worst part. That shit hurt the most.
__________
Once he was let out of the Hole, Gabe had found him again. He sat down across from him, at the table Angel had been occupying, and put a pill in front of his food tray.
Angel stared at it. His face was still too bruised and swollen to bother with pulling any sort of expression in return. 
‘Aspirin,’ Gabe explained. ‘I get it on a doctor’s note. Migraines.’
Migraines? Angel looked from the pill, to Gabe, to the CO standing in the corner of the room.
‘Figured your head’s hurting more than mine right now.’
‘What?’ Angel asked, looking back to him. 
He still didn’t know the guy. He was shorter than Angel, but older. Forty vs twenty. Thicker too, working muscle with a noticeable belly, and a beard that touched his chest when he talked. 
‘Quieres que lo repita?’ He scoffed, and kept his voice hushed as he continued. ‘Tómalo antes de que vean, plebito.’
His head was pounding, so he took it. And he gagged, of course, because he’s always been fucking bad at taking pills. It sat on his tongue, refusing to go down, until Gabe sighed and passed him the drink from his tray. Like he couldn’t even do that himself.
‘Thanks,’ Angel managed, sounding ungrateful. He didn’t recognise what a lifeline it was, what it meant in the grand scheme of things. Now, Angel would go back in time and tell himself to pull it together. Gabe is giving you more than a fucking painkiller, fool.
‘Mira. Kid.’ He switched to English, thinking Angel didn’t know it well enough to keep up. ‘I’m tired of seeing you get your ass beat. They’re gonna extend your sentence for that one, y’know? Other guy’s lip was split, needed stitches.’
Angel scoffed, like that was his fault. Boney threw the first punch. ‘That’s not—’
Gabe put his palm up. ‘They don’t give a shit. Damage is done, everyone pays for it.’
That’s when Angel noticed the tattoos across Gabe’s knuckles: MAYANS MC. He remembers thinking it was goofy, branding himself like that. Then, here he is now, having covered more of his skin than Gabe has, with the very same name. You don’t get it, until you’re in it. 
‘I can’t sit and watch you ruin your life, okay?’ Gabe said. ‘Too many kids go that way.’
His brother, Angel found out. He told him that later. Apparently, he had Angel’s attitude and stubbornness, made the same mistakes over and over without learning from them. Angel didn’t know at the time, but Gabe had been keeping an eye on him since the beginning, hoping that eventually he’d wise up. The shit with Boney was his limit. Like seeing a ghost, he said. Hermanito. 
‘So, what?’ Angel asked, disbelieving. He’d never had a guy in his corner before then. ‘You gonna make me part of your crew or something?’
‘Pendejo…’ Gabe muttered. ‘You ever think before you speak?’
‘No, not really,’ he replied and, somehow, that chipped a smile across Gabe’s husky features. Sealed the deal for him. 
‘Gabriel,’ he said, putting a hand out for Angel to shake, ‘Gabe, if you’re not my mother.’
He took his palm. ‘Angel.’
Gabe laughed at that, really fucking laughed, and Angel smirked back like he was in on it. 
‘Angelito,’ he said, once he’d wound down again, ‘ah, qué chistoso. You stick with me, you might even start enjoying yourself, kid.’
Yeah, not quite. But, he’d kept him straight after then, and when he got out before Angel did, he sent him mail and called and—fuck, Angel really should ring him soon. It’s been too long. 
You’d like Gabe, really. He’s your sort of person, doesn’t talk until he has something to say. Doesn’t lie either, just gives you whatever he thinks is right, as long as it’ll serve a purpose. If he wasn’t in Oakland, Angel would introduce you to him before anyone else, before anyone in Santo Padre leathers at all. Hell, he’d take you to fucking dinner at his house. Gabe’s approval almost means more to him than Pop’s does. 
But that’ll never happen. You won’t even get close. 
                                                         *
Bishop is in a bad fucking mood. Obviously, news of the fight at the bar hadn’t gone down well and they’d been scolded for it, in front of the whole damn club. Never gets any easier. He never gets any leeway either, no matter how high he goes. Angel’s made it to secretary now and still, when you’ve fucked up, you’ve fucked up. Bish has no problem reminding him, or anyone, of that. 
But, he gets it. He gets it. Scrapping with military men in public does nothing for the club’s rep, but, man, shit happens sometimes. Bishop would’ve acted the same damn way if he was there.
Angel’s outside now, smoking on the clubhouse steps like the cigarette might drag all the shitty feelings out of him, pull it right up from his stomach, into his lungs, off into the fucking air with the smoke. It isn’t working yet. Maybe on the next drag.
‘Hey,’ Bish appears behind him, halfway out the door, ‘I’ve changed my mind. I want bodies tonight.’
Angel nods.
‘Be back here at midnight.’ He holds his gaze. ‘No more fucking about, Angel.’
‘Yeah, got it.’ Loud and clear. ‘Midnight,’ he agrees and then el presidente disappears again.
Fucking attitude. 
Sometimes, he misses Oakland. He even misses Marcus, of all people. The guy had the leash so tight, Angel never got in trouble in the first place, never got scolded for things, because he never stepped out of line. He didn’t know he could miss that until recently.
Marcus you wouldn’t like, he thinks, or maybe you would. He can’t tell. Maybe you’d like him for what he’d done, him and Gabe both. They’d moulded Angel into something worthwhile, after all. Someone worth coming back to.
A whining engine catches his attention, Chucky’s dumb little vespa pulling into the lot in front of him. There’s a box balanced on the back of it, tied down with a fraying bit of string. Knowing Chucky, it’s something edible, in way too big of a quantity, that absolutely nobody has asked for. Donuts, or some shit. He’s always playing housewife when he has actual yard work to be doing. 
Ah, now, that’s an idea.
‘Hey, Chuck?’ He finishes his cigarette, snuffing it beneath his boot before taking the steps onto the gravel. ‘You got a minute?’
Chucky beams, nodding quickly as he kicks the stand down. The unclipped straps of his helmet bounce by his chin. ‘For you, Angel? Always, brother.’
He smiles back and tries to make it look genuine. Chucky has a real talented way of making things sound fucking weird.
‘You ever feel like you need an extra pair of hands around here?’ He winces as soon as he asks it, Chuck’s wooden fingers already up and wiggling between them. ‘Sorry, you know,’ he sighs, ‘you get what I’m saying.’
‘Sure,’ Chucky agrees, nodding again. 
It’s a twitch, it must be. His nerves are rattling out through his skull. 
Angel carries on despite it. ‘We got room to take on someone else?’
‘I think so,’ Chucky replies. ‘Who d’you have in mind?’
------
part five >>>>
‘Pinshe mocoso cagadero, ‘tás tratando de que te maten?’ = Fucking little shithead/kid/brat, are you trying to get yourself killed?
'Pues, quieres morir, es eso?’ = Well, you want to die, is that it?
‘Quieres que lo repita? Tómalo antes de que vean, plebito.’ = You want me to repeat it? Take it before they see, dumbo.
qué chistoso = how amusing/silly
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