#he fucked up cause now ive been obsessed with it for the past 4 years of my lifeshdgfj
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doodle i did in a small fit of hysteria
#shut the heck up#midnight rambles#kirby lore rambles#no one gets it.#not even kumazaki#he sees halcandra as any b-tier fantasy sees their Ancients(tm)#but he fucked up by designing Halcandra to be such a visually striking wasteland juxtaposing the metallic urban and fiery rural hellscape-#-with the majesty imagined by the lor#he fucked up cause now ive been obsessed with it for the past 4 years of my lifeshdgfj#ive read history books for this shit#ICAREabout the original implication of magolor being from halcandra cause it both gives him a unique envirornment to inform his-#-shitty behaviors#and that it then alludes to the types of people who once lived on the planet and possibly even what their downfall was!!#and hwo far theyve fallen and the types of vices that keep them from truly rebuilding!!#AND I CARE ABOUT HALCANDRA BEING POPULATED BECAUSE IT MEANS ITS PEOPLE CAN HEAL#i fucking care about the ancients and their descendants and their being a dynamic cultural group and not a source of random mcguffins!!!#I CARED ABOUT HALCANDRA WHEN NO ONE ELSE DId.#(im really sleep deprived rn)#(i should get back to those rtdl streams)#tag talking#also thats my sona hi.#(edit: this is completely undirected i dont even have actual beef with kumazaki as a director i actually love him to bits (measuredly))
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im gonna be in my scorpio era for another 4 years when it comes to my ex. but when that time is up ! i am gonna be thriving like a mf. good mf bye. and you know what?! im grateful. cause right now im in the easiest and best point of my healing from him. yes it might have been easier (maybe?) immediately after our breakup, cause i was so filled with rage, but at the same time, i was sobbing over him at every given moment. now im kinda just eh. he exists, i exist, we have a past, im struggling to let go of that past. thats about it.
i have got to do something about the actual scorpio that is giving me strife though. like there is actually nothing left i can try do besides taking action. but i know silence is the best course of action. hes leaving me constant voicemails like a fucking STALKER. stalker behaviour. such a weirdo. yuck. yuck. i dont want to hear you voice! i dont want to be reminded of the times i wasted with you... nevermind, i never waste time. i only bless myself with new experiences to learn and grow from. but you on the other hand... you dont learn. you dont grow. youre stuck. is this the lesson for me from this situation?! god you sneaky little minx. i cant believe i just called god a minx. lol.
but truly... im acting like scorpion with my ex. its sad and pathetic. bitch, let it go! the past is the past for a reason. it stays there. move on cause you can do so much better. wow this shift in my perspective could be the only thing that gets me off my stupid ass. that man is so below me. (both these men are). but im holding onto a fantasy. its not REAL!!!! and imagine if he, who has very much likely moved on from “us” (who dont actually exist anymore, cause we were both little baby teenagers), found out about the way ive been feeling and acting and obsessing over this. disgust, and judgment. that condescending and belittling capricorn judgment. the kind that instantly turns me against myself too. YUCK! how could i ever stoop so low. this is hilarious. i reckon, knowing the magic and humour that the universe has with me, once i do let go of all this chaotic messiness, scorpion will vanish from my life and move on too. its all relative cause in the end we are all the same person experiencing the same lives simultaneously .
HA! this was great, me. i love when we can agree on something.
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sarah i have thought of another fic request or like a cute idea i guess! i didn’t have anyone in mind when i thought of it so you can write it for whoever you want honestly :)
okay so the reader is a streamer but streams games like animal crossing, standew valley, etc. then (insert who you’re writing for) says they don’t like that game, but later ends up buying it and the reader is like “i thought you said you didn’t like this game” and they’re like “well i like you” and they confuses their feelings and they end up playing the game together and reader gives them a tour of their island or farm
i feel like this request isn’t good, but the scenario seemed cute and i wanted to share it. sorry if this is confusing or just too specific cuz i know it can be hard to write requests like that! but yeah i hope it gives you inspiration and you like the request <3
new horizons
warnings: language, a Marvel reference (hint: natasha said it about tony), stupid idiots who don’t realize they like each other, use of pet names, Uno rage, Hasan Piker's presence
words: 1473
tags: sapnap x gn!reader
A/N: i’ve been trying to catch up a little on my requests (i’ve only got a couple so i’m not super overwhelmed) but school and outside life has been taking up most of my time so this one took me a while to make! tbh— ive never played animal crossing so i did google some of the game mechanics and i apologize if anything is inaccurate about the game…. but i liked relaxing and writing this cute one so thank you for requesting hails :3
requests/inbox status: open
-
“This game is trash.”
Your head quirks, fingers stopped on the screen. You’re in the process of giving your character a cute new nickname; it’s kind of hard to decide between “awkward dude” and “elderly skater”.
“Excuse me?” Your chat comes alive with emotes and ‘KEKW’s, obviously entertained by you and your almost-more-than-friends-friend.
There’s a story for that later.
Sapnap’s rough laugh comes through your headset and he audibly swallows, the sound of a water bottle dropping onto his desk echoing.
“I’m just saying—it’s boring. It’s like Minecraft but you don’t like… do anything.” The grainy image of his bearded face shifts and you see him pull out his phone.
“It’s— you can’t even compare it to Minecraft! It’s a completely different game system—you actually interact with other people live in the game.” You huff out a dramatic sigh, slumping in your chair with a pout. “Just because you go into this lucid state where all you know is ‘touch block, hit George’ doesn’t mean this game isn’t fun.” (He scoffs at your awful impression of his voice. Your viewers love it.)
“Jeez,” he mumbles, fumbling with the cap of his water bottle. “Touched a nerve there, bud.”
You roll your eyes, getting back to the village in the game.
“Don't ‘bud’ me.”
The call falls comfortably quiet, the sounds of him tapping obsessively on his phone and you clicking away filling the silence. A gentle bedroom-pop YouTube playlist remains in the background, prompting you to hum along and glance at the chat to see a flood of “check twitter” and “Y/N TWITTER!!”.
“What happened on Twitter?” You mumble, confused, and pull the website up on another monitor. Sapnap just makes a curious noise, swinging back and forth in a circle. “Oh my God,” you say to yourself, fingertips brushing your parted lips.
“What?”
“Hasan Piker just followed me and retweeted one of my not even remotely political old tweets. Like from a year ago.”
“That’s— wow. Congrats?” Sapnap’s voice cracks, and his ears flush pink the tiniest bit when you glance at his face on Discord.
“I’m gonna go on record and say that he could get it.” You shake your head in disbelief.
Sapnap falls uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal, so you look past the frenzied chat and to his screen— wait. He muted and turned his camera off.
“Um,” you start, furiously typing question marks in your private chat. “Where’d you go?” You mute and turn screen share off for your stream, concerned that he might’ve fallen off his chair and broken his neck and needs you to call the ambulance.
The characteristic ding of a twitter notification sounds through your bedroom, and you look at your phone quickly.
“That’s where I went.”
Sapnap Tweeted: “all Y/U stans can choke on my dick”.
“Jesus, Sapnap,” you say, and rapidly refresh to read the replies. This tweet was deleted. “That’s so— that barely makes sense, bro. Why— literally what?”
His snicker floods your ears and you relax in your chair. Crisis: averted. “Don’t fucking— what’s wrong with you?”
“I thought it would be funny,” he offers, shrugging, and fiddles with the straw in his water bottle, smile fading. “And also Hasan pisses me off.”
“Why, ‘cause he wants a piece of this? Jealous?” You think back to your viewers, knowing they’re probably spamming question marks and coming to ludacris conclusions about both of your absences. No offense to them. You remember your stan days very vividly.
“I mean, kinda.” He rubs once at his nose, glancing at the camera (and what feels like you) before taking a sip from his water bottle.
“Wow.” You watch one strand of his hair fall from beneath his hat and brush against his full eyebrows. “I’m uh—I’ll get back to my stream. You coming? Or is it time for a Sapnap-snack?”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He snorts and leans his chin onto the balance of his arm.
“That means you like to take a little snack break mid-stream and come back approximately nine hours later and you didn’t even eat.”
“You know what— fuck you.” He flicks the camera as you laugh at the look on his face.
The teasing mood is easily kept as you switch games from Animal Crossing to Uno, all the while slamming Sapnap with +4’s and skipping the newly-arrived BadBoyHalo at any chance you can get. It unironically pisses him off and he has to take a Sapnap-snack break midway through (only a fifteen minute break this time, during which you and Bad take a “What Kind of Bread Are You?” quiz). The rest of the night is filled with devious cackles (you), loud and sudden bangs that sound suspiciously like someone hitting their desk in anger (Sap) and the stupid barking of Rat, AKA Lucy (Bad). She’s cute but a menace to the sound quality of Bad’s microphone. You sign off stream around 2 a.m. with various forms of thanks and kisses blown to the camera. It’s been a refreshing night, actually; you’ve been busy organizing a partnership stream all week and all your friends have been busy filming or editing or what-not. Quackity had time for a little Roblox every couple of days, though. He’s got your back.
The next time you see Sapnap is after a two hour stream of him try-harding in Valorant and you finishing responding to an email from your partnership in the VC.
“Okay, I’m back.” You hear him shift in his chair and click a couple more times on his keyboard. You perk up in your chair, closing the email browser you’d been looking at.
“Do you want to play anything else? I’m down for anything.”
“Absolutely not Uno. You can go to hell for giving me 6 cards that one time,” he jabs. You scoff, crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair.
“Okay, the +4 was on me but it’s Bad who gave you the last two. That’s not my fault, sweetie.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles, trailing off as the clicking of his keyboard stops. “Hey, um—Guess what?”
Your heart beats loud in your ears at the tone of his voice. He sounds nervous; that’s never good.
“I’m scared to guess,” you try, playing with a little Minecraft dog figurine you have on your desk with fidgety fingers. “What?”
“I bought Animal Crossing.”
Silence. You stare at his discord icon blankly, trying to reroute the wires of your brain.
“Tell me you love it.”
“Well… I haven’t actually played it— but you said you liked it, so.”
“So,” you repeat him, ears warming but continuing on. “Is that what you tell all your friends when you buy something they like? That it's because of them?”
He seems to choose his next words carefully, pausing a beat to consider your questions.
“Well, I don’t have a crush on all of my friends.”
“You—what?” You stutter, caught off guard and stumbling. What did he just say? “Don’t tell me you mean you have a crush on me.”
“I’m almost positive I just did.” His discord icon stares right back at you, taunting.
“You know, you’re very casual for someone who just admitted they like-like me.” Your cheeks flush pink and you have to press a hand to your chest to keep your breathing sounding stable.
“Yeah, I’m kind of cool like that,” he offers, a huff of a laugh punctuating his statement. The conversation moves into a lull that you can’t help but know is because of you. He must expect you to say something about it, right?
“You are very cool, Sapnap.” You tilt back in your chair, sucking in a breath to prepare yourself for your next words. “And—Isortakindofhaveacrushonyoutoo.”
He must understand you, for you can hear the grin in his voice when he asks “Really?”
“Y-yeah.” You feel like a preteen again, all shaky and giddy in front of the boy you just asked to a middle school dance.
“Um, alright. What do we do now?”
“I don’t know,” you answer genuinely and swing in a happy little circle in your chair. “We could play Animal Crossing.”
“I’m down.”
You swear you’ve never heard more beautiful words.
He keeps his camera off for most of the time you two play, too focused on creating his island and asking you questions about how to fish to turn it on. He silently flips it on when you help him decorate his lawn, needing to show you in real-time the decorations he has bought and where you think he should put them. He looks cute. I mean, of course he does. He always does.
You tell him goodbye late in the night, eyes saying a little more than just “see you tomorrow”.
You like him. He likes you.
It’s even better when you two have matching gardens.
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A/N: anybody and everybody (especially my precious hailey) let me know what you think!! :]
#sapnap#mcyt#sapnap x gn!reader#sapnap x reader#sapnap x you#sapnap fluff#sapnap drabble#sapnap oneshot#bubblyhoneyfics#honey answers#mcyt x reader#🥚except small
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of tyres that blow (extended author’s note of chapter v. of castles)
- - TO READ THE CHAPTER ITSELF, CLICK HERE. - -
Oh, what a month it has been. Well, a month and two days - I’m a bit late updating. I’ve had two good things happen, writing wise. 1) I got my first original short story published (!!!!) (you can read it here) and 2) I put out a little one-shot about Fleur Delacour that I’m super happy about and gave me an idea about a new series (more on that later this week, I hope. I might need help with prompts!). Regardless, this latest Irish lockdown is fucking endless and I sometimes wonder if this fic isn’t just an outlet for my feelings of lockdown-induced loneliness, apathy, but also a constant argument that I have with myself thinking: for the love of god, just pull yourself up, will you? You’re a Gryffindor, goddamn it. I certainly wish my fucked up sleeping patterns on no one, although I may or may have Mary-Sued that onto Harry, lol. (Spoiler alert: he’s scheduled to get some real sleep in next chapter. All bets are off regarding whether I will.)
This chapter was surprisingly easy to write (I basically vomited out chapters iv, v, and vi over the span of a week in December) but incredibly difficult to edit. For days, I just couldn’t concentrate, wrote and re-wrote and felt like everything was shite. Then, I realised it’d become this 19,000-words long monster so I had to cut a lot of shit out. We ended up with 15,898 words which I suppose is better?
I do wonder: do people mind long chapters? Like, I know as fanfic reader, I personally prefer longer formats and rarely gravitate towards works that are less than 3,000 words. I love just getting buried into a story, into plots rather than single scenes. This being said, every time I write something that I deem too long (i.e. above 10k) I have these excruciating struggles where I wonder: should I cut it in half? should I leave it as is? I decided to split the last one. Then, I decided not to split this one because (you may notice this or not, I’m not sure) it’s kind of built a certain way, geared towards basically getting to the last two paragraphs. Like, when you get there, it’s a bit of an ah-ha moment, but I couldn’t get to that ah-ha moment without all the build up before it. It’s the accumulation of all of these little details that feel like they don’t matter. And as Harry says in the end, they don’t, in the grand scheme of things, but also they do. Like, everyday life doesn’t matter until you lose it. Then, it does, if that makes sense.
In terms of next update... I’ve decided to get my law licence transferred to France and the EU (it’s a long story), which means that I need to bloody, fucking study. The exams are at the end of March so my current plan is: hardcore study until the end of february. Mix study/writing in early march and hopefully get chapter vi out mid-March, then hardcore study until the end of March. Please, if you see me posting then, tell me off in the comments cause god, I really need to pass. Now, I will go have my traditional i-ve-put-a-chapter-out shot of limoncello and let you read the below :).
...spoilers for castles, chap v. under the cut -
I’ve done a lot of thinking about what this chapter is meant to be about. Obviously (I hope), every chapter has a point, in this story. Chapter 1 is about time (the way it passes and blurs when your mind’s a complete mess), chapter 2 is about hope, chapter 3 is about inevitability and the consequences of trauma, chapter 4 is about becoming an adult and growing into your own skin, etc. I think this one is about fear. How you feel it, and how you overcome it. Like, Harry takes a decision to stand up, fight, do the interview, regardless of the fact that he is scared (for his life, for that of the people he loves), and finds buried inside him a lot of the courage that he (felt) he lost, after the war. He learns to control his fear of the world by figuring out how apprehend it, through the training Giulia gives him, through learning how to kill, too.
But, it’s also about fear in society. How the attack on Robards sets everyone on edge and how they keep going regardless. I initially wrote this chapter with the idea that it was going to be about speaking out and being brave, but obviously, fear and fighting against it is a huge part of that, too.
Then, there’s Mia. Obviously, this fic is Harry/Ginny endgame but I do like the idea of Harry (and possibly Ginny as well) dating at least one other person, before officially tying the knot. Like, yes, Ginny is obviously coming back next chapter. She’ll probably own the second half of next chapter, if I’m honest, considering they’re obviously going to the burrow for christmas. I love Ginny, I’ve missed her and honestly, I can’t wait to bring her back. This being said, to be fair, I’ve kind of realised that this fic may actually be the first I ever write that isn’t strictly “shippy.” Like, yes, their relationship is a huge part of it (it’s a huge part of his life) and it will and was always going to be a huge part of this story but I think this fic is larger than that. It’s a result of my years-long obsession over: but what happens next? Over what “all was well” really means, in a general sense. How do they get to “nineteen years later” and beyond. But yeah, I’ve missed Ginny and I’m glad she’s on her way back to us now.
Now, obviously. Giulia. I’m sorry. This was always going to happen. Well, almost always. I remember when I first wrote her in, she was a bit of a filler character. At the time, the thing with Mia was supposed to happen in last chapter and I actually had (have) much more backstory around her, than around Giulia. She and Harry were going to have proper conversations (will they ever, who knows?), really get to know each other. But then, Giulia came first narratively and shone through the page. I started writing her and she had this personality and life of her own and I couldn’t bring myself to curtail her.
Now, we all know how it is: fanfics can only tolerate so many OCs. So, I had to choose between putting Mia at the forefront, or Giulia. I chose Jules.
Then, in chapter 4, I wrote this:
Her first lesson is to teach him how to drive the patrol car. ‘I don’t know why we use them,’ she explains, honest, and Harry vaguely wonders if he should be taking notes. ‘Reckon the Ministry saw them being used by Muggles, had to prove they could do better. They like making noise, the Ministry, don’t they? Lots of sirens and shite.’
Politely, Harry hides a chuckle behind a cough. He clearly doesn’t know yet that he doesn’t need to, that Giulia’s sarcastic sense of humour is one of the things that he’ll come to appreciate the most in this world, over the next few months. That the sound of her voice is one he’ll try to never, ever forget. That in the speech that he’ll give when he makes Head Auror, over a decade later, he’ll think of her and say: ‘Okay, let’s try to not just be sirens and shite, all right?’
This kind of tumbled out without me really thinking about it until I really looked at it and thought: fuck, why is he talking about her past tense, like that. Like “the sound of her voice is one he’ll try to never, ever forget.” Why would he forget it, though? And so, just like that, came her death sentence. For that, I apologise. It killed me too, and I cried when I wrote it in (especially when I wrote next chapter, actually, first time I ever made myself cry writing, if I’m honest) but it just needed to happen. It’s how Ginny and he get back together (I mean, obviously - is that even a spoil) because he’s grieving but she’s grown stronger and steady and she’s able to be there in a way that she wasn’t last summer. It did occur to me that god, all his mentors/father figures come to die, don’t they? But honestly, I kind of thing that his real mentor will be Robards, at the end of the day. She was just the one who allowed him to get back on his feet.
One last note: I’ve been meaning to put this into the fic for ages but have never found the right moment to write it in. In the meantime, I’ll just say it here, because I don’t know if this has frustrated some of yous - I know it might have driven me mad. There is a logic to the Muggle/Wizard swearing/exclamations in the fic. Obviously, this is an adult fic so they swear normally, like eighteen-year-olds would in this (I decided that very early on), but also there’s “God”-s and “Merlin”-s and things like that.
Now, I think that throughout this fic, although Harry hasn’t mentioned it yet (cause it never fucking fits anywhere) Hermione’s been having a sort of Muggle reckoning. She - in conscience - decides to start swearing/exclaiming “like a Muggle” after the war. If you notice, she only ever says “god”, never “Merlin.” Harry uses both interchangeably although he tends to use Merlin more when he thinks about wizard stuff, but God when he thinks about Muggle stuff (like when he’s with Mia). Ron only swears in “wizard” but I think he might start using Muggle expletives as well in the later chapters because of Hermione rubbing off on him.
The fact that I even think about all that stuff is pathetic and I need to get a life. But that’s for another post, altogether.
Anyway, thanks for reading. I hope you liked it :).
#hp fanfic#hinny#Harry Potter fic#i have not proofread this rambling mess so read at your own risk#writing#blah#new chapter is up
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Doctor Who Tag
yes im a nerd...
CHILDHOOD
1. Did you like DW as a child?
I was 10 when it came back on telly with Eccleston and the first episode with the autons scared me so much my mom wouldn't let me watch it again until a couple years later, but yeah my teens I was obsessed with DW... still am at age 25
2. Your age at the time of the revival?
10
3. First DW episode you ever saw?
‘Rose’
4. Did you have any of the toys?
I still have the eleventh doctor’s screwdriver... I used to have some of the figures but there in storage now somewhere
5. Which DW character did you play on the playground?
didn't play it on the playground
6. Monster(s) that scared you most as a child?
all of them! the ones that still scare me now are the Cybermen and the Autons... genuinely cant walk past a shop mannequin without being suspicious
7. Joke/story you didn’t get as a kid?
as a kid, any of the innuendo type jokes
8. DW opinion that has changed since you were a kid?
idk I think I still have the same opinions
9. Who introduced you to DW?
parents
10. Did you like Sarah Jane Adventures as a child?
I LOVED SJA!! I miss that show, and Elizabeth Slade :(
DOCTOR
11. Who is your Doctor?
Ten was the doctor that made me fall in love with Doctor Who
12. Your favourite Doctor?
omg why not just ask me who my favourite child is... (I don't have kids but you know what I mean) if I had to chose my top three are ten, eleven and thirteen
13. Least favourite Doctor?
purely just because he doesn't have enough episodes... nine...
14. Best regeneration?
none of them I hate regenerations :( they make me sad, im too emotionally invested in every single one
15. Do you like “Doctor-Lite” episodes?
they're not my faves
16. Who is the most human Doctor?
I think nine maybe? or twelve?
17. Best multi-Doctor story?
the 50th anniversary special
18. Best Doctor monologue?
“Hello Stonehenge! who takes the pandorica, takes the universe. but bad news everyone, cause guess who? HA! You lot you're all whizzing about- its really very distracting. Could you all just stay still a minute because I AM TALKING. Question of the hour is, who's got the pandorica? Answer, I do. Next question, who's coming to take it from me? Come on, look at me! No plan. No backup. No weapons worth a damn. oh and something else, I don't have anything to lose. So, if you're sitting up there in your silly little spaceship with all your silly little guns and you've got any plans on taking the pandorica tonight... just remember who's standing in your way. remember ever black day I ever stopped you and then- AND THEN- do the smart thing... let somebody else try first.”
not copied and pasted, remember that from the top of my head... its always there waiting in my mind incase I ever need an epic monologue :’)
19, What do you think TenToo/MetaCrisis Doctor is doing now?
hopefully living his best life with Rose
20. Best Doctor/companion pairing?
ten and donna
COMPANIONS
21. Favourite companion?
Donna, Clara, Amy
22. Favourite secondary companion?
is Mickey classed as secondary? idk
23. Least favourite companion?
Ryan
24. Best TARDIS Team?
Doctor, Amy and Rory
25. Most underrated companion?
Graham, but that may just be cause I love Bradders
26. Most overrated companion?
Rose... I like her but idk, I think she gets more hype than she deserves.. don't @ me
27. Favourite companion’s family?
Rose’s mom
28. Who should have been a companion but wasn’t?
idk I cant think of anyone
29. Favourite (canon or non-canon) DW universe relationship?
Amy and Rory
30. Who did you not used to like, but really like now?
wasn't keen on Bill at first but by the end I really liked her, same with Rory
EPISODES
31. Favourite episode ever?
girl in the fireplace
32. Least favourite episode?
most of Chibnall’s episodes tbh sorry not sorry
33. Which episodes do you skip?
the regeneration episodes
34. Best two-parter?
Human Nature - Family of Blood
35. Historical, present day or futuristic episodes?
I like them all in there own way but I think present is fave, then historical, then future
36. Episode that will always make you smile?
all of them
37. Episode that will always make you cry?
Rory and Amy’s last episode :’(
38. Best run of episodes?
ugh I cant answer this theres too many
39. Best cliffhanger?
the end of Spyfall part one when the Master reveals who he is... I was SHOOK
40. Favourite Christmas special?
Voyage of the Damned
SERIES
41. Classic Who or New Who?
new who
42. Favourite series?
four or five
43. Least favourite series?
eleven, I just cant with the writing
44. Which series do you skip?
none
45. Favourite series opening?
eleventh hour
46. Favourite series finale?
Doomsday
47. Best series arc?
Bad Wolf
48. Thoughts on series 11/12?
I adore Jodie Whittaker and her doctor, and although I think 3 companions is too many I do love Yaz and Graham (Ryan is hit & miss). I just think theyve been massively let down by the stories/writing... they’ve tried to hard to tick certain boxes and completely missed what Doctor Who is about for a lot of people.. an escape from the real world into these outrageous unbelievable but lovable fun alien adventures
49. How much of Classic Who have you seen?
not a lot
50. Who should have had another series?
NINE NINE NINE NINE NINE
MONSTERS
51. Favourite monster/villain?
the master
52. Most creative monster?
Weeping Angels, whoever came up with monsters that look like statues and only move when you're not looking at them is genius
53. Monster(s) that scares you most?
Autons, Cybermen, the creepy dolls from Night Terrors, the ones from Waters of Mars, Weeping Angels
54. Monster you think is too easy to defeat?
idk
55. Least favourite monster/villain?
absorbaloff
56. Monster you want to return?
The Master, I really hope that isn't the last we see of Dhawan
57. In your opinion, what makes a monster good?
being genuinely scary,
58. Daleks, Cybermen or Weeping Angels?
Weeping Angels
59. Best Dalek story?
Daleks in Manhatten
60. Best one time villain/monster?
my brain has gone blank I cant think of an answer right now
ADDITIONAL MATERIAL
61. Torchwood or Sarah Jane Adventures?
SJA
62. Favourite Torchwood Team member?
I haven't watched it all so I couldn't say
63. Which Torchwood death made you saddest?
again, not watched it all
64. Do you rewatch COE or MD?
huh
65. Favourite SJA Team member?
Sarah Jane
66. Mr Smith or K-9?
K-9
67. Maria or Rani?
Rani
68. Do you read the comics/novels or listen to Big Finish?
Nope
69. If you do, your favourite additional stories?
n/a
70. Do you like DW analysis (video essays, fan theories, etc)?
yes
DESIGN/PRODUCTION
71. Favourite piece of alien tech?
the sonic, I love how it is so multipurpose except for when it comes to wood
72. Favourite piece of Murray Gold music?
I am the Doctor - gets me pumped every time
73. Favourite TARDIS design?
Ten’s Tardis
74. Has the 2005 era CGI aged well?
actually yeah, I was rewatching the ‘are you my mummy’ episodes the other day and my God when the gas masks emerged from the faces... ooooooof I was like omg how
75. Favourite Doctor outfit?
eleven or thirteen
76. Monster with the best design?
not really a design more of a costume.. I live Dhawan master’s costume. that shade of purple, oof he so stylish
77. Best show runner?
idk
78. Best writer?
Gatiss
79. Best opening titles?
eleven’s titles where the Tardis is flying and being zapped is cool but thirteens music hits different
80. Will DW age well/stay popular in the future?
I hope so, I feel like its lasted this long surely it can last forever.. if the writers don't fuck it up...
IF YOU WERE IN THE SHOW
81. Time period you’d want to go with the Doctor?
whatever time means Id get to wear the most beautiful costumes
82. Planet/place you’d want to go with the Doctor?
Galifrey, pre-desctruction
83. Doctor you’d most like to travel with?
any of them, please and thank you
84. Companion you’d most like to travel with?
donna, sceso a good laugh but also I feel like she’d look after me
85. Monster you’d like to defeat/fight?
The Master
86. If you could go back on your own history (like Father’s Day), where would you go?
back to when I was a toddler, I wanna see what I was like
87. If you could ask the Doctor anything, what would you ask?
theres too many to ask
88. Historical figure you’d like to meet?
Shakespeare
89. How do you think you’d meet the Doctor?
id probably be rescued from doing something stupid and then the doc would be like you know what the bitch clearly needs supervision she's coming with me
90. Would you travel forwards or backwards in time first?
backwards
IF YOU MADE THE SHOW
91. Historical event would you like to see in DW?
Hamilton
92. Issue you’d like to see addressed in DW?
idk
93. Who would you completely erase from the DW universe?
Ruth
94. One unanswered DW question you’d love to know the answer to?
where is Clara now?
95. Actor/actress you’d like to see play the Doctor?
Phoebe Waller Bridge (or Lin Manuel Miranda)
96. Actor/actress you’d like to see play a companion?
Andrew Scott (yes I did just basically recast fleabag and hot priest)
97. Is DW “too political”?
series 11 got a bit like that
98. Which characters fate would you changed?
Danny Pink
99. What about DW could be improved?
I think ive made my options about Chibnall pretty clear...
100. If you could write an episode of DW, any ideas for what you’d do
bring back Jenny, the Doctor / Daughter adventures they would have. I’m actually writing a fic about it if you wanna read.... here
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okay, so were getting personal here,
This March will be coming up to my Dad's 3 year deathaversary. It wasnt expected, he was only 38. He drowned, and his death is acually still under investigation. That's probably the first close death i had. Anyway, it caused a lot of problems in my family. Including my mum moving her and my sister an hour and a half away from me. That and i dont hear from dads side of the family anymore. so thats super shit. When this happened i Also lost my best friend at the time Georgia. She went off at my boyfriend Kenedy because he didnt want to come to the funeral and caused some issues. anyways I forgot to mention when he died i was in rockhampton. which was even more shit. but anyway, when i came back. I didnt hear from my best friend at all, i went to the funeral. still hadnt heard from her. She full went off at my partner cause he didnt wanna come to the funeral but yeah a week had past since coming back and she knew i was back. Sent her a message and said hey whats going on, you went off at him made a big deal but i havent heard from you. and pretty much she responded with telling me that i was a shit friend and It was mean to message her like that and then she blocked me on everything. So yeah I lost my father and my best friend in the same week. I still dont know wtf happened which just comes up in my brain a lot.
And then theres my ex, Kenedy. I think i said already that we were together for nearly 6 years. We broke up over a stupid photo at the end of July so its been 4 months. For starters we were engaged and we were about to start trying for a kid. But it was such a toxic and unhealthy relationship dude. Like fuck.. We used to get into fights and ill just be straight up, it got physical. Id end up covered in bruised and cuts and it was pretty bad tbh. Holes in walls. Broken bits. I never ended up in hospital because of it but like it was still pretty bad. This probably only happened the last two years of the relationship. I grew up watching my mum be abused, i know that it isn't the norm and what ever but i guess i was kind of use to it in a way? so i think thats why i put up with it? idk. That or my mental issues lol. But yeah so, I'm still kind of getting past that bit, I have photos that come up in my memories which trigger me and sometimes I get panic attacks randomly. Its shit. It wasn's always physical.
Then we come to my ex best friend, Rhianne. I literally grew up with her, but we never used to be friends, we just went all through school together. She also used to be my bully in kinder and prep LOL.
Anyway, we started being friends when i first moved into this place so maybe a year and a half? shes toxic to haha. We had a good friendship at the start but the more i hung out with her the more i began to feel like shit about myself. I don't have friends. She was pretty much all i had. So i kind of let a lot of stuff slide and i never really stood up for myself. and i mean a lot of things i let slide. She got really obsessive towards me. I honestly think she is infatuated with me. She would rock up here pretty much daily and use me for my stuff and makeup and clothes and then wed go for drives and stuff. idk we used to do everything together. Not because i wanted to either. Pretty much what she said was the go. She would talk down to me as if i was a child. Im the kind of person as well that i like my alone time, i dont like going out all the time i like to sit in and enjoy my own company, I dont like hanging out EVERYDAY with someone. She use to talk shit about me behind my back as well. just cause so much drama and eh. But she was so fkn obsessive. Then when kenedy and i broke up, her friend was having there birthday at the clubhouse, so thats house i was introduced to the club. She took me a long and told me to take someone home to help myself feel better about the breakup. SO anyway, Shaun was there and we were getting to know each other.
She caused a big scene and didnt want me to take him home. I think it was jealousy. Got to the point were she had me in tears.
I then for some weird reason logged into my exes account, I found messages telling people how much he hates me and wants me to kill myself and wants to fuck Rhianne. Then i showed her all of this. She was grossed out and deleted him. We then had a small fight because i stood up for myself one night. Why we wernt talking she went out clubbing and Kenedy was out. So she party'd with my ex as well as invited him and had him come back to her dads place. Nothing happened to my knowledge but I mean, Im sure they fucked.
Anyway, (I have depression and anxiety. When kenedy and i broke up, i didnt handle it well, I started self harming and it was getting pretty bad) I took shaun home from the clubhouse that night and pretty much his been here ever since, so 3 months we've been together now. I’m not sure if I love him or not. I don’t know because my brain is scattered at the moment. Because of everything hoing on. His a lovely guy, but his not for me. But the way my brain works and how im coping with all these things, i just can't be alone dude. I literally get so depressed and its scary because i don't want to give myself the chance because when im alone like i am tonight. All of this just goes through my brain and i get so fucked up, i don't even know if you wanna hear about self harm and abuse. but it happens. TBH im probably going to end up hurting myself tonight. I wasnt joking to you when i said i wanted to drive my car into a truck. i literally feel like that.
So what actually made Rhianne and i stop being friends. Her, Shaun and myself were drinking at her friends. Shaun has epilepsy and actually had a seizure in front of me the previous day, Rhianne got into him and told him it was his fault and that i should never have had to of seen that. I didnt go off at her, HER friend kicked her out and told her sleep in her car. Since then she has tried to constantly break us up.
On top of that, im in a lot of debt. and it got to the point were i actually made a Onlyfans account and it actually helped. I feel gross about it but it was private no one i knew in real life had access. OR SO I THOUGHT. i used tumblr to get my subscribers, didnt realise my ex Kenedy had access. He sent screenshots to Rhianne and she sent them to pretty much everyone i know. Ive lost a few friends becuase of it. and well yeah it was degrading. She then apologised and i forgave her for like a whole 6 hours. Until i really thought about it. Just cause we were in a small argument i wouldnt do that to her you know or anyone. so i told her that. and shes been super nasty since.
She is also still talking with my ex.
So yeah, I also might have breast cancer 😣
These are most the reasons I want to die.
#depression#depressed#life#anxiety#anxious#help#suicidal#abuse#ex#friends#heartbreak#broken#lost#help me
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Here is a summary of my weightloss story🧡
I will make another post about how I eat soon🌻
My weight has been an issue for me my entire life. Growing up ive always been the funny fat one who hated physical aticity more than anything. In fact, I could cry my self to sleep if I knew we were going to have gym the next day. I got physically sick if we had mandatory activities.
When I was 15 I found out I have PCOS (cysts on the ovaries, which fucks up your hormones and makes it easy to gain weight and a lot of other stuff) and a nutritionist was going to help me lose weight for the first time. I was 84 kg and ready for change. She gave me a strict diet, telling me what to eat every single day down to the gram. It was horrible and super effektive. I lost 20kg in 5 months, without working out. But I didnt learn anything about how to eat like a normal person and it only worked like a temporary cure. I moved out from home, started "cooking" my own food, started drinking, and so over time I gained 30kg🎉
So there I was. 96kg at162cm. Miserable and unhealthy.
Summer of 2012 I had a power moment. I decided that enough was enough and I joined a gym and threw out all the unhealthy food in my apartment. At the gym I spent 30 minutes on the treadmill and 30 minutes on random machines. I was doing research on how I should eat, tried many different diets and it was effektive. One day my dear friend Mari showed me how to deadlift, squat and benchpress. And we noticed I was getting strong faster than my friends, and after some time discovered powerlifting excisted. What an amazing sport! Being active, lifting heavy shit, pushing your self and just feeling so strong and confident!
In 2015, after some yoyo weightloss, I contacted @coachsvein aka @styrkebror. Very smart💥 at this point I weighed arround 80kg.
He helped me learn about calories and food og made a workout program for me. (this is also when I learnt that you dont have to do cardio to lose weight😍)
Summer of 2016 I qualified for nationals. I weighed 70kg. And started thinking about trying to reach the 63kg class and go for the current squat record of 17,5kg. The dream started.
But somewhere a long the road I lost my self. My mind was messed up. Everything was about numbers. My bodyweight, calories, waistline and what I was lifting. I became obsessed and I let these numbers define me as a person. I was miserable on the inside.
To paint a picture of how bad it was, when I went on vacation to Albania, I got up at 7am every day to go for a fucking run. Even tho ai hated every step. I felt guilty for everything I ate, lifted weights daily and it was just horrible. This is not how a vacation should feel.
I will never forget the feeling when I got home and weighed my self and realised I would not make it to 63kg in time for nationals. I cried for hours and barely got out of bed. I felt like a complete failure.
I took some time off work and tried to pick my self up again.
When i competed in nationals in october 2016 i came in 4th in - 72kg and I was very happy with this. But the dream off 63kg class was still there.
February 2017 at regionals I was 69kg, and not mentally healthy at all. I meal prepped, counted calories, declined social events and would punish my self I thought I ate too much.
March 2017 I found out I was accepted to volunteer in Zambia for a year, where I knew I would have to let go of control. So I started there and then. It felt like a huge weight off my shoulders that I wouldnt have to complete or think about weight.
August 2017 I left for Zambia. 75kg.
Zambia was like a reboot. No one cared about any of my numbers. Gaining weight and being called fat was a good thing. I had to eat what I was given by my host family. I partied a lot. I worked out 4 times a week. I gained another 10kg
So summer of 2018 I came home. I had managed to keep a lot of my strength and I weighed 85kg. I knew I wanted to lose weight again. But this time I was going to do it in a healthy way that would last.
The fact is Ive lost 22 kg since july18, at the same time Ive been keeping my strength and getting stronger in all lifts. Ive eaten candy, chocolate, ice cream or pizza every time I really felt like it. Ive have had one to many beers when I wanted.
and to be honest it hasnt been really hard
Ive focused on the long term weightloss and everyday healthy habits. No calories or cm counted. Tho I have to mention that Im happy I learned how to count it, cause it taught me a lot about what I eat and helped me understand it better. But I never want to do it again.
So what did I do?
🌻Choosing to get enough sleep, aka keep a bedtime, no matter how good that serie on Netflix is
🌻 Walk a lot through out the day, normally arround 15000 steps
🌻Eat a lot of vegetables and fruit, which keeps me full and happy
🌻I eat when I can feel that Im hungry, not when I planned to
🌻 When I choose to eat high calorie food, I make some changes the other part of the day so I dont get way too many calorie. Also I try to never feel guilty. Regret is a choice. I wanted it. I ate it. Its done. Now keep going and make the next choices according to your goal.
🌻I have weighed my self every day, which I think has been so frikkin smart. It has made me more relaxed when the numbers shift, it has showed me the progress over long time, and it has showed me that Im in control, without be coming obsessed.
Now I am stronger than ever. Both physically and mentally.
Like I said, my weight has been an issue for me for my entire life and Im pretty sure it always will be at some level. But it doesnt control me, my decisions, my mood or my life. Yes, there are hard days or moments where my mindset is challenged, but they pass. Cause I work on it.
Im sharing this cause people have told me my honesty has helped in the past. Maybe it can help someone again.
And if you thought this was the longest story of your life, just imagine what @coachsvein has been through for the last 4,5 years. I think ive told him every detail about every feeling regarding these things. He has helped me so much and given so much of his time to me. Free of charge. And I would truly NEVER ever be where I am today if it wasnt for him. Thank you for never quitting on me❤️
Thanks for reading❤️
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Rec List #1 Theme: 2018 Favourites
One of my fandom resolutions is to rec more in 2019. I’m going to post rec lists for some of my favourite Nick fics divided up by theme/content/ship or whatever I fancy throughout the year. It seems fitting that my first rec post of 2019 should be my favourite Nick Fics of 2018. If you’re interested in my Harry Potter themed recs, you can find them over on my other blog @writcraft under the tag #writ recs where I’m undertaking the same initiative.
This is by no means an exhaustive list - I’m limiting myself to ten recs per list and it is very difficult, I could have recced many more. I’ve read and enjoyed a whole raft of terrific stories and this rec list is simply based on my personal tastes which may not be everybody else’s cuppa. Please heed the content warnings the author has flagged on AO3 in each case, none of my recs include the content tags.
#1. Ten Track Sophomore Album by @junkshop-disco
Nick Grimshaw/Harry Styles | 4,228
Nick has always lived in noise, been the cause of a lot of it, but one day a boy writes him into a pop song and the whole world dissolves into static.
It doesn’t happen like that, not that easy, not that linear, but that’s the heart of it, the soul, if these things have such a thing.
My Rec: The Nick fic of 2018 is undoubtedly the final installment of junkshop-disco’s incredible Doodle of a Surface Life but that has quite rightly garnered so many recs by now if any Gryles reader hasn’t yet indulged, run, quick, what are you waiting for? I love DOASL with all of my heart, but I’m also a sucker for angst and I wanted to highlight this equally terrific fic in my rec list. The structure of this story, in which Nick loses his ability to hear music, is so cleverly done. It’s a very skilled writer that can create an entire fic around sound and make it come alive, and junkshop-disco manages it brilliantly. The fic reads like music, even as it describes the absence of it and it’s a stunning piece of writing. If you like your Gryles contemplative and angsty with confident, lyrical prose, this is the one for you. Junkshop-disco has such a terrific way with words I highly recommend reading all the works by this author. Every single one. But when you do make sure you take a moment to stop by this beautiful story and leave it all the love it deserves.
#2. Tell Me It’s The Strongest Shape by @louandhazaf
Nick Grimshaw/Elgar Johnson/Louis Tomlinson | 73,224
Nick and Elgar have it all. They’re famous, successful, and engaged to be married—and sometimes they play with others.
When uni student Louis gets street cast by Elgar for a GQ photoshoot, he's drawn into Nick and Elgar’s complicated relationship.
They've always invited mates into their bed. It doesn’t ever mean anything. Until… it does.
My Rec: This is such a great exploration of polyamory and the complexities of open relationships, and the author took a great deal of time developing the relationships between the characters and really working on highlighting some of those difficulties. I tend to gravitate towards fanfic where I care deeply about the characters, and although Elgar seems terrific I don’t have the same fannish relationship to him as I do to Nick and Louis so I was curious to know how I would respond to this fic. Basically, the author killed it. I felt such a deep investment in Elgar, Nick and Louis throughout and everything just flew by as I was reading. It’s also really fucking hot. Like, REALLY. Brilliantly done. I loved it.
#3. Let The Boys All Sing And The Boys All Shout For Tomorrow by @lunarrua
Nick Grimshaw/Harry Styles | 18,429
It's February 1988. Thatcher is in power. There's a new drug sweeping through the clubbing scene. In Manchester, it's the eve of a major protest and a new musical movement. And when Nick finds Harry looking lost outside his favourite chip shop, it's the start of a weekend that will leave an indelible mark on both their lives.
My Rec: I saw the summary for this fic and actually yelled at my screen when it popped into my inbox. Gryles, set in Manchester in the 80s? Hell yes. The fic itself certainly didn’t disappoint, it’s absolutely beautiful. The author writes a well-researched, confident piece and the result is stunning. The atmosphere of the whole story is captivating and you can feel yourself transported to the heady days before the Manchester music scene shifted, the anxieties of the AIDS crisis and the fragility of the relationships formed during that period. The Harry of this fic has a transient quality which evokes the nostalgic reflection on a different time in our not so distant past. A real triumph. I loved this story with my whole heart.
#4. Séjour by @silveredsound
Nick Grimshaw/Louis Tomlinson | 6,288
It is so quiet, which should be conducive to concentration, but Nick is bored and listless and lonely. He’s been there for two days and wants to know where the helpful lady is who’ll deliver him a gamine but takes-no-shit housekeeper who he can fall in love with without words. Words are not his friend.
“Where is my Love Actually moment?” he asks the ceramic kitchen sink as he pokes holes in the cover of one of the M&S ready meals he brought over with him.
«≠»
Nick’s got writer's block. Louis is a master of distraction.
My Rec: I’ve loved a number of stories by Silv this year and I was swinging back and forth between this and others, but there’s something about this little fic that has wormed its way into my heart and has taken hold so this is the one I’m choosing. As I said in my earlier reblog rec, this has such lush, evocative prose it perfectly captures the sense of a fleeting summer. There’s a seductive quietness to it, and a lovely unfolding of the story through snippets of tasting notes left by Louis on bottles of wine and Nick feeling a little bit lost and searching for words as he struggles with writer’s block. Two boys find one another in the warmth of a sleepy French town and it’s beautiful. Really wonderfully done.
#5. Fists & Flowers ‘Verse by @jiksax
Nick Grimshaw/Harry Styles | 1,613 (Make It Worse) and 2,322 (I’ll Do What You Like (If You Stay The Night)
He’s looking at Nick with that soft, terrible look in his eyes, the look that tells Nick the two of them are probably something.
My Rec: If anyone other than Jiksa had told me they were planning an angsty fisting fic series I would have been like umm really? But of course, it’s Jiksa, so naturally I found myself sobbing at the raw, devastating intensity of the story. Jiksa deftly weaves the intensity of the physical act itself into the emotional tumult of Harry and Nick’s relationship in a way that’s incredibly beautiful. A bold, brave, superb piece of hot, confident writing, rich with emotional complexity. Gorgeous.
#6. Constantly on the Cusp by @shiftylinguini
Nick Grimshaw/Louis Tomlinson | 6169
It’s 5 in the morning, and Nick’s got an alarm going off, an unexpected bed full of pop star, and a nation to wake up.
It’s far too fucking early for this.
My Rec: UNFFFFF. I love Shifty’s writing. Like, an obsessive amount. I was so thrilled when Shifty started writing Tomlinshaw I didn’t know quite what to do with myself. It’s actually hard to believe this was Shifty’s first Tomlinshaw, because everything about the fic felt like they have been writing them for years. Louis is sleepy, horny and pissed off, Nick is awake, horny and wondering what it all means, and together they have this scorching hot, sexy moment. Nick’s internal monologue gives us so much insight into their relationship and the fic offers a lovely, warm, hopeful moment at the end. Fantastically written and a sexy delight from start to finish. Loved it!
#7. this cookie’s baking by @disgruntledkittenface
Nick Grimshaw/Harry Styles (Genderswap Femslash) | 8,148
Harry’s eyes flicker between Nick’s eyes and lips. “I just want to be your–”
“Baby,” Nick says softly, cupping Harry’s jaw, “you already are.”
Nick and Harry have a long-overdue conversation.
My Rec: This was the first genderswap Gryles fic I have read and I absolutely loved it. The relationship between Nick and Harry feels so perfectly them and there’s a lovely warmth to the whole story. It’s light and funny but also contains moments of real emotional depth and those first time explorations and the hesitancy of admitting to being something more than friends is handled in such a terrific way. It’s a gorgeous story with wonderful writing and I loved every minute of reading it.
#8. let’s make some new rules by @camiii
Nick Grimshaw/Louis Tomlinson | 12,743
A coffee shop, a Christmas party & a fake date to make sure no one gets laid at the end of the night.
My Rec: This was such an enjoyable read. I love camiii’s Tomlinshaw, and seeing this pop up was a wonderful surprise. Barista Louis agrees to be Nick’s fake boyfriend as he pines over an ex that definitely isn’t worth his time, and they become closer in the process. The pace of the story is wonderful, the flirting is brilliant and despite some misunderstandings and Nick’s no good ex trying to fuck things up, the ending is warm and hopeful. A lovely story, full of festive cheer. Thoroughly enjoyable.
#9. I’ll be seeing you by @daretomarvel / renlyne
Nick Grimshaw/Harry Styles | 11,481
It’s 2028, and Nick’s bought a house.
My Rec: I love Ren’s writing and this Notebook inspired Gryles is a beautiful treat of a story, in which Nick starts buying little bits for his dream house. It’s hard to believe this story is just over 11,000 words because the world the author creates is so rich, detailed, layered and complex. The relationship between Nick and Harry has all of these gorgeous details and nuggets of history as it grows and develops, seedling-like, into something that might just be everything they’ve both been searching for. It’s a warm, hopeful, beautiful story but as it’s Ren, it manages to still tug at the heartstrings in the best kind of way. I read this again as I was putting my rec list together and did so with a lump in my throat, full of feels for the Nick and Harry of Ren’s universe. Gorgeous writing with bags of emotional intensity. I loved it.
#10. All I’ve ever had are love songs by @candybarrnerd / icarusinflight
Nick Grimshaw/Louis Tomlinson | 21,688
Things are finally coming together for Nick.
Nick is the DJ of his uni's radio stations, and he passively aggressively dedicates a song to Louis.
My Rec: Icarusinflight is another author who was already on my periphery from Harry Potter fandom who wrote their first Tomlinshaw fic this year and I was so thrilled to see them writing in this fandom and I’m very excited about their upcoming 2019 projects which also includes fics featuring the 1D boys in various ship combos. I love uni AUs and I hadn't read one for a while, so this was such a treat. I loved how Louis is sharp, sassy and confident but with niggling insecurities. Harry was so affectionately humorous in this story and Nick’s voice is wonderful. This is a really well-paced, enjoyable story with a hot af first kiss that deserves a mention all of its own. The music references, the tea and the cameos from various 1D members are all terrific and the writing is brilliant. Can’t wait for more from this author this year.
Bonus Rec: I was meant to limit this to just 10 recs but I also wanted to give a quick shout out to @nightwideopen. I’ve said this in previous rec lists before, but I am constantly impressed by the quality of @nightwideopen‘s writing and the way they explore things such as asexuality and gender dysphoria which can be harder to find in a relatively small fandom. I’d particularly rec so far (it’s alright) and i’ve been thinking lots about your mouth from this year, both Tomlinshaw.
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unconditionally
summary: A short lil’ drabble in which Sam and Dean have a teenaged kid who reveals a secret to them.
words: 1.7k
read on ao3 (please)
⇣ ⇣ ⇣
Sam and Dean’s daughter comes home from school one day with a black eye, bruises, and a limp, making it difficult to sneak past her overbearing dads unnoticed. Her arm is probably broken given the deformity in her wrist, but that’s not what really hurts—no, it’s now how those kids beat her up, it’s why. Her secret is killing her, now literally as well as figuratively.
When the fifteen year old tries to get through the door after walking from her bus stop, she doesn’t expect her fathers to be home. Her dad works as a forensic analyst down at the police department and her papa is a medical assistant, so they rarely get home before five o’clock even if they work the same hours. So when she stumbles into the foyer like a fawn learning to walk, wincing with every movement because god, those kids fucked her up, she’s surprised to hear a concerned gasp and footsteps running toward her weakened body.
“Jenna, what the hell happened?!” Dean asks as he takes his daughter into his arms, trying to be as gentle as possible with her while he carries her to the couch. A Maury Povich rerun is still playing onscreen from seconds earlier when he and Sam were snuggling together on their break, but he drowns out the results of Donna whatever-her-name-was’s paternity test to take care of his little girl.
Sam hustles in from the powder room with a hospital-worthy first aid kit in hand and joins his husband and daughter on the sofa to get a better look at her wounds. She’s got bruises running up and down her arms, a laceration on her forehead, a sprained ankle, a black eye, and a fractured wrist (that would have to be determined by a doctor, but he’s basically one, right?)—a whole mess of blood and hurt.
“Oh, baby…” he pushes her hair back and hisses at the dried blood staining her skin, “what happened? Who did this to you?”
Jenna, scared to death, attempts to stand up and ‘walk it off’ only to be ushered back to a sitting position between the two men.
“Uh…” she winces at her split lip, making it incredibly difficult to talk coherently, “these kids, four or five of ‘em I think, ganged up on me. I’m fine, though; you don’t have’ta baby me.”
Dean shakes his head and tries to remain calm, even though every fiber of his being is telling him to track those bastards down and make sure they’ll never come after his little girl again. “Jen, you got hurt pretty bad. If Sammy can’t fix you up, we’re takin’ you to the hospital.”
The teen shakes her head in an adamant plea, tears coming to her emerald eyes. “No! Please, no. That’ll just make it worse.”
“Hey, we’ll only go if we have to.” Sam assures the brunette in his arms, knowing full well that she hates hospitals. In the fourth grade she had to go in for an emergency appendectomy, and she passed out when the nurse put her IV in. “Can you lift up your shirt a little, bug? I’m not gonna look, I’ve just gotta check your stomach.”
Her face goes pale at this, but she reluctantly nods her head and pulls her flannel shirt up to expose her abdomen. To his relief, Sam finds no hardness or tenderness when he presses around her midsection, instead becoming perplexed at another finding. When he pulls her shirt back down, his finger brushes against something that feels like an ACE bandage.
Biting his lip, he looks down at her as she places an ice pack over her left eye. “Did you try bandaging yourself already, Jen? ‘Cause I thought I felt a wrap around your ribs.”
Jenna looks like she’s going to be sick with anxiety. Ignoring all the pain in her body, she begins hyperventilating when she tries to speak, and Sam holds her tight to calm her down. Dean works her through her breathing—4, 5, 7—and they wait until she had enough control over herself to finish her thought.
“N-no, I—that’s for s-something else.” She’s crying now, borderline hysterical: a sight that makes her fathers want to start weeping as well. They look at her and silently ask her to elaborate, but she bites her bloody lip and shakes her head. “I don’t…I can’t tell you. I just can’t. You’ll be pissed and hate me forever.”
Her papa takes her hand in his and looks her in the eye. “Bug, you can tell your dad and I anything. We’ll never judge you, ever.”
“We promise,” Dean chimes in. “I mean, your papa and I were literally in a sanitarium for, like, a week. Right, babe?”
“Yeah.” Sam nods with a chuckle. “So, whatever you need to tell us, we can guarantee that we’ve heard and dealt with worse.”
These words seem to help Jenna compose herself and conjure up the courage needed to reveal this part of her identity she’s kept secret for so long. It’s been so rough lying to her dads since she discovered that she is who she is two years ago and she’s exhausted. Maybe, just maybe, they’ll be alright with it.
“Okay,” she whispers, lowering the ice from her bruised eye. “You know how there are some kids who…I dunno, they don’t feel comfortable in their bodies, I guess?”
The younger brother thinks for a moment then nods like a lightbulb went off in his head. “Yeah! Those teens with gender identity disorder and stuff. I worked with a girl who had that, got her on estrogen.”
Dean smiles at his husband’s comment and ponders the correlation before turning back to Jenna, thoroughly confused. “What about them?”
The fifteen year old is fumbling with the hem of her shirt now. She’s barely been able to come out to her best friend, and now her parents? That’s a huge leap. But, she’s hidden for long enough—she won’t let this kill her. Not like how it’s killed so many others. “I…I’m one of those k-kids. I’m sorry, Dad…Papa…”
Sam sits in silence for a few seconds before he hears crying from beside him, the figure in his arms shaking violently. He locks eyes with his husband, who nods with a small, understanding smile, and clears his throat.
“Hey, don’t cry,” he cooes, running his fingers through the long hair rubbing against his arm—that will probably have to go. “This doesn’t change a damn thing, bug. Your dad and I love you more than anything else in this world, and something this isn’t going to change that. You don’t have to be our Jenna for us to love you.”
“If it’s any consolation, I didn’t agree with your papa when he chose your name,” Dean leans in to mutter, earning him a bitch face from Sam and a small chuckle from the ball of emotion beside him. “Do you want us to call you somethin’ different? I can’t promise that I’ll get it immediately, but I’ll try my best.”
The teen looks up at him with reddened eyes and smiles a bit. “Jack. I like the name Jack…is that okay?”
“Sure thing, Jack,” Dean kisses his son’s head and feels his tears wet his Led Zeppelin lounge shirt. He’s not alarmed, though; he knows that these tears are happy ones. “Alright, now that you’ve got that off your chest…get it?”
His husband snorts a bit and Jack laughs from beside him, now confident in his choice to tell the two idiots he’s proud to call his dads.
The older man coughs and carries on talking. “Now that that’s aired out, how ‘bout we watch Maury Povich while Papa patches you up, yeah?”
No longer hesitant, the boy nods and doesn’t really feel his physical pain over his emotional exuberance. Sam moves to grab some antiseptic but stops himself, first turning back to Jack and nodding at his chest.
“Will you take that off? It’s bad for your lungs and ribs,” he asks in a gentle voice.
The teen frowns to himself but still nods his head, reaching to his side to undo the clips fastening the bandage wrap around his chest. Once it ceases impairing his ability to breathe, Jack exhales and stretches his back, still grimacing at the feeling of his breasts against his shirt. His papa notices and pats his leg.
“I’ll order you a real binder online tonight, I promise,” he murmurs while Dean is fully indulging in his talk show obsession.
Jack beams and mouths a ‘thank you,’ which is answered with a ‘no problem, son.’ At that moment, Jack can’t remember why he was ever hesitant about telling his dads at all. They’ve always said that they’d be there for him through thick and thin, bad and good, no matter what—and they’ve come through time and time again.
”Hey, you wanna know a secret?” Dean asks his son in a whisper. Jack nods with a skepticism head tilt—damnit, Uncle Cas—and the father smiles. “When your Papa and I found out we were expecting you, I made a promise. I swore I’d always love you no matter what happened, and that I would do everything in my power to protect you and make sure you’d never be afraid to tell us anything.”
Sam sheds a tear at his lover’s words, taking his hand and looking at their son, who they’re meeting for the first time; god, he already looks so much happier and full of life than their daughter. “He did. I was there, he thought I was asleep. I made the same promise, Jack. We’re always in your corner,- nd we’ll never stop loving you.”
Jack sobs and embraces his dads. He’s never been happier than at this moment, getting his injuries nursed by his overprotective Papa and having his Dad nudge him to point at the TV and laugh at something dumb. Little does he know, his Dad is gonna come after those kids that beat him up with a BB gun and chase them off, all while screaming: “this is for my son, Jack!”
Everything is going to be alright, and he knows it. Family don’t end in blood, and he’s proud to be Jack Winchester.
#wincest#sam x dean#sam/dean#samdean#otp: and they were soulmates#i know i know#i need to stop#but trans fics make me so happy#theyd be such good lgbt parents#like lets be honest#fanfic#my fanfiction#wincest fanfic#drabble
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a conflict between a person's physical or assigned gender and the gender with which he/she/they identify. People with gender dysphoria may be very uncomfortable with the gender they were assigned, sometimes described as being uncomfortable with their body (particularly developments during puberty) or being uncomfortable with the expected roles of their assigned gender.Okay uh, sorry this has been rattling around in my brain for too long, and i already kNOW when some certain people read this they’ll probably spam me with reasons why i’m wrong but i can’t help but notice a trend in the people policing trans people and as a trans man i think i have to right to voice my opinion about it yes? no? Well it doesnt matter im doing it anyway.
(fair warning, if my wording is off or if sentences et confusing; the word im using is not the right definition, i apologize im just cranking this out and have a hard time with words getting mixed up anyways, gomen)
Alright so uh
I’m sure people who aren’t truscum have probably heard of truscum right? Trans-exclusionary feminists (usually) saying what trans people (predominantly trans MEN , this is important) must do/feel/think in order to really be trans. If they dont they get called transtrenders and cis women ‘crying out to feel important’
well alright theres lots to dissect here but just uh, its overwhelming at first glance. I mean, cis people telling trans people what to do in order to ‘really’ be trans is about at the same line of white people trying to tell really any poc how to be their race or something. Its asinine and just confusing?? I thought we were past this??
But most of these ‘truscum’ people are only really targeting trans-men. To say they’re targeting the trans community is a bit off because from what i’ve seen of them, (correct me if im wrong it’d make this even more interesting if they were harassing trans women too with their similar rhetoric) they’re creating terms for and attacking feminine presenting trans-men, calling them ‘tucutes’ (which im still fuzzy on the definition for mostly cause its just stupid) and also then again calling them just cis women trying to be cool or something. But i feel i should note not all truscum are just cis-women, some of them are trans-men as well which is surprising to me but also, with my experience as a trans-man im also kinda not surprised. I’ll get into that later.
So to start just, these ‘truscum’ people seem to have their main targets being trans-men but also nonbinary people as well, claiming that nb people are not trans and claiming that effeminate trans-men are not real men because men are not effeminate and to even be trans you have to have ‘dysphoria’ (which is technically right but, the definition truscum give is not really correct? pls stick with me on this ill explain) and how HRT makes you hyper masculine and so femm trans-men and nonbinary people should not try to or have any acess to it at all and it should be reserved for REAL trans men who wanna be very manly because HRT can and will only make u super masculine and theres absolutley no way you can use hormone therapy or reconstructive gender therapy to be androgynous as some nb people seek. (even though AMAB NB people haves used hormones to do this, and AFAB NB people have used hormones and surgery to do this as well. But you know, theyre really only attacking trans-men when they do this anyways so they probably dont know or care to know about that.)
Well lets sorta back track a second here on like, the basic definition of trans you get when u first tell kinda any doctor/counselor/therapist that you feel like youre a different gender. “Some trans people undergo hormone replacement or sexual reassignment surgery to help themselves align their bodies to their real gender, but some trans people don’t because they dont want to change their bodies and thats okay!” So yeah, even the oldschool mid ‘2010′ era definition doctors and people used made room for people who were okay with their bodies but still felt trans! Still felt like the classic “man trapped in a womans body” thing of whatever (even though thats a gross metaphor but you get my point)
So when did people suddenly decide that the definition was different? that trans people now should be uncomfortable and change their bodies otherwise their not trans? I don’t know when it started or why though i suspect with the few trans-men who are truscum it could have maybe started with things like this;
-the reddit term of transtrender coming up to invalidate trans people (again predominantly trans men) for their identity.
-the few trans people who do undergo transition and either through maybe doctors not giving them enough information and giving them a higher dose, their body not reacting to it well, or somehow getting acess to transitioning fast enough that they really were actually in a transitional period of their lives where perhaps they were feeling they were trans but were maybe going through something during that point in their lives, or perhaps the changes the HRT gave them were unsatisfying and they wanted something different. (This is usually pretty rare though considering most trans people have to undergo usually at least 4 years of waiting for any hormone treatment, which involves going through lots of doctors and therapists and having to really talk about how trans you are for years, and any sign of even being slightly loose in your definition of gender “i feel liek guys can like cute girl things too” can often get you pushed back for treatment. IDK where these people are getting fast acess to hormone treatment cause ive never found any)
- Trans-men who perhaps have internalized a lot of the toxic masculinity that can sometimes get pushed onto you trying to prove you’re enough of a man for people. Before the definition of truscum even exsisted i’ve had to deal with people like this face to face and it made me get a lot more aggresive standoffish and downright rude with people because i was just trying to act like what i thought men should act like. And given this was in my early teen years, what early teen males are fed of what men act like, i was a fucking nightmare yeah. I’ve seen some transmen who sorta internalize this stuff and get the woman-hating too, I had a time sort of in middleschool era where i was really gross about girls and their bodies and just, I can totally see transguys maybe buying into an idea of hating on feminine guys the same way cis guys hate on femm cis guys.
-the above could also include cis women so just, in general people with internalized misogyny because again, this is all so targeted at calling DFAB people not good enough and not trans enough
So yeah, theres obviously been some people unhappy with people and sort of misunderstanding things about being trans. But to be fair, a lot of the definitions of things relatng to being trans, esp the ‘dys-’ words have been left pretty confusing. So lets try to go over them and maybe now i can clear up why these ‘truscum’ people are both somewhat correct in saying you need to have dysphoria to be trans, but also not really because they sort of have their terms wrong...
dysphoria:”a state of unease or generalized dissatisfaction with life.” -Google
dysmorphia/body dysmorphia: “the obsessive idea that some aspect of one's own body part or appearance is severely flawed and warrants exceptional measures to hide or fix their dysmorphic part on their person.” -Wikipedia
Gender dysphoria: “a conflict between a person's physical or assigned gender and the gender with which he/she/they identify. People with gender dysphoria may be very uncomfortable with the gender they were assigned, sometimes described as being uncomfortable with their body (particularly developments during puberty) or being uncomfortable with the expected roles of their assigned gender.” -Psychiatry.org
So, according to the main definition of Gender Dysphoria, it can encompass both the feelings of dissatisfaction and almost detachment to life of Dysphoria and the detachment and detest of Body Dysmorphia. Also to have Dysmorphia you sort of have Dysphoria inherently with the way your quality of life and enjoyment of your own goes down with the fact you cant change something thats such a part of your being. Dysphoria and Dysmorphia playing in art with one another is especially common with trans people. So I think that these ‘truscum’ people are sort of confusing the definition of Gender Dysphoria. Theyre implying and pushing that it’s all about the “being uncomfortable with their body” when its both that and the “being uncomfortable with the expected roles of their assigned gender.”
So by definition, to be trans you do have to have Dysphoria, or particularly Gender Dysphoria yes. BUT, Gender Dysphoria does NOT mean hating and wanting to change your body for lots of trans people! Not liking being reffered to as a certain gender, or partaking in the behaviors expected of it, clothes, activities, jobs, items, milestones, if you feel detached from it and like its really not you that by definition means you have Gender Dysphoria and so you are trans. And yes NB are trans, tons of them relate to the definition of Gender Dysphoria both the Dysphoria and Dysmorphia parts of them.
I also feel like adding that to say that trans men or trans women need to be aligning completely with the gender they identify with (as both truscum and some doctors still do), there are plenty of cis-gender people who feel that gender is a bit fluid and that cis-men and cis-women can have traits of the other and behave sort of in the middle. So for trans people to not be able to do the same, when trans men are and often feel in the same ways that these cis men do, and vice vera for trans women, its kind of transphobic man. You’re putting up unreasonable and downright unnesesary ideals for trans people to uphold to prove themselves that cis-people don’t even have to. If cis-people can have a looser idea on gender expression and can have diff gender expression (expressing/dressing in a different gender while still feeling like the gender you identify/are born with) then trans people should to.
Like me, i’m a trans men who has feminine gender expression! Truscum would probably call me a trender or a ‘tucute’ for that. But, I have hORRIBLE Body Dysmorphia because of my Gender Dysphoria. Have since i was like 11, And i want to undergo both top and bottom surgery to alleviate it all. So, hows that for “fem trans guys are just tucutes, you have to have dysphoria to be trans” I have it and im still fem bitch.
But yeah, i just keep seeing so much of this, even from people i used to consider friends and just, i wanted to put my 2 cents in on it. If you have Gender related Dysphoria or Dysmorphia, you’re gonna know about it best. And if you dont want to have to have the scary part of de-transitioning because medical transition wasn’t right for you because you identifying as one thing was wrong and you actually identify as something different, I reccomend maybe sitting on those feelings before doing anything for like 5-7 years. Sounds like a long time, but i mean from when you first start getting the feelings of Gender Dysphoria and Dysmorphia. It’s still honestly so rare for people to detransition though and feel like a whole diff gender, ppl usually detransition when they feel like their hormones are going further than they want (and then later fix their dose with their doctor) of to avoid public shaming and are still trans so yeah.
Hopefully no ones too upset with this (unless theyre a terf or truscum) but yeah, thats my word on it.
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for all the honest world to feel (trixya) (5/8) - dare
Brian stared down at his screen, trying to understand what he was seeing – the mild frown on Katya’s face, and the other queen, hands raised, standing just out of frame beyond the gap in the bus bunk curtain.
(AN: so this is… long and sad. finally-throwing-in-an-angst-tag-at-the-bottom levels of sad. warnings for unsafe alcohol use and overdrinking; as usual, “she/her” for adore and “he/him” for trixie (brian) and katya. also, this might read a little weird, but i made the executive decision not to name the weho queen who’s been giving trixie shit because (contrary to, uh, all other signs, i guess) i don’t actually want to speculate on who’s a douche and who isn’t in the ru girl community. so that’s also a thing.
(OH, and, there’s more lyrics in this one, please don’t judge me, it’s very hard to try to measure up to trixie’s irl songwriting chops lmao)
this week on honest world: shit’s sad. shit’s real sad.)
| ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4 |
FROM: SHEA - 9:57 AM - Sunday August 24th, 2017
[Attachment: IMG_3782.MOV]
Girl.
If you dont wife her up I will.
FROM: KIM - 10:03 AM - Sunday August 24th, 2017
holy shit
i don’t think i’ve ever seen her mad. like for real
FROM: SHEA - 10:04 AM - Sunday August 24th, 2017
This was some WWF shit girl. That bitch will be feeling it for a while.
FROM: KIM - 10:05 AM - Sunday August 24th, 2017
katya’s from boston. she’s 90% salt, 5% feelings, 5% inner saboteur and 100% ready to fight
FROM: SHEA - 10:05 AM - Sunday August 24th, 2017
Thats a lot of math, Kimberley
FROM: KIM - 10:05 AM - Sunday August 24th, 2017
are you being racist? don’t be racist shea. omg.
someone had to count trixie’s tips for her when she was passed out drunk in my bed
FROM: SHEA - 10:07 AM - Sunday August 24th, 2017
*Steal trixie’s tips from her.
FROM: SHEA - 10:15 AM - Sunday August 24th, 2017
Trisha baby if you’re out there we love you girl okay? call us any time xxxx
*
Brian stared down at his screen, trying to understand what he was seeing – the mild frown on Katya’s face, and the other queen, hands raised, standing just out of frame beyond the gap in the bus bunk curtain.
“You know,” Katya was saying, perfectly conversational, “I found it kind of cute at first? Like a puppy trying to fight itself in the mirror – or one that can’t, you know. Stop pissing itself. You know what I mean? Funny but sad. But I don’t think I find it funny anymore.”
The other queen laughed nervously. “Come on, Katya –”
“I’m not laughing. Why are you laughing?” said Katya, raising his eyebrows. “I’m not laughing.”
The laughter stuttered into silence. Over the mic, Brian heard Shea expel a slow, cautious breath.
Katya tilted his head, and the expression on his face darkened like a spring storm. “I want to make it really clear to you how far you’ve managed to over-reach yourself, that you’ve actually crossed my limits. ‘Cause I don’t care how you run things in your club, how you treat your friends, whatever – that’s none of my business, since I don’t work in your club and I’m not your friend. Oh, in case you hadn’t noticed – I’m not your friend. FYI. Because you’ve been acting like I am, and I think it’s time for that to stop.”
The raised hands dropped out of sight. “Jesus. Why don’t you tell me how you really feel.”
And that – Brian winced despite himself. That was a mistake.
Katya grinned, showing too many teeth. “Can I? I’d like that, thanks.” He tapped his fingers rapidly against the side of his thigh. “I feel like you’ve gotten a little too comfortable as top dog in your scene, and when Trixie showed up and didn’t line up to eat you out like everyone else does, your ego plummeted out of your ass. And what we’ve been seeing for the past half a year – can I repeat that? It’s been half a year, which is beyond pathetic – what we’ve been seeing is some kind of hemorrhoidal psychosis, as you take obsessive potshots at someone who couldn’t give less of a fuck about you. It’s not just pathetic – it’s harassment. You’re showing your whole ass right now but guess what, girl? We’ve seen it.”
“You said yourself you’re not in my scene, so don’t talk like you know shit,” the queen snapped back. Her voice tightened like a screw being ground into drywall. “The bitch could have tried to be friendly, for fuck’s sake –”
“You aren’t being very smart right now,” Katya interrupted, with all the force of a tire iron punching through a sheet of glass. “This might be a good time to consider your word choice, if there ever was one. That would be the smart thing here.” Teeth again, manic. “You want friendly? I can do friendly. We have another week on tour – you want me to do friendly. Because the alternative is that I freeze you out, publicly and professionally, and I make your life and your career outside of that fucked up, incestuous bubble of a scene you’ve pissed all over very difficult. Am I – am I being clear? I want to be very clear. You’ve messed up enough shit in my life, and I want this over with.”
There was a pause and a shift in the shadows beyond the curtain – nodding.
“Good. So here’s how this is going to go.” A wooden sound, rap, Katya’s knuckles against the bunk frame. Brian could make out the rise and fall of Katya’s chest, shallow and too fast, in the gap between the curtains. “You don’t post about Trixie. You don’t talk about her. If, God forbid, the opportunity arises, you don’t talk to her. That last one is for you – I’m a lover, not a fighter, but it is my strong suspicion that if you pull this to her face one more time, she will beat the ever-loving shit out of you. Just a – a pro-tip, let’s call it. An insight.”
There was a weak laugh. “She can try it. Jesus, Katya, come the fuck on –”
Slam – an open-handed palm against the wood. “Do you think I’m fucking around here? I’m not. Don’t fucking push me on this.”
Brian had heard Katya angry a handful of times in his life. He’d never heard him like this. This wasn’t Katya out of control; this was Katya very near the end of his rope, and aware of every inch he had left, making them count.
The sick feeling in Brian’s stomach crept higher. He pressed his knuckles against his mouth.
“You stop coming for Trixie,” Katya was saying. “No more posts on facebook, no more whispers at shows. No more shit-talking to promoters – yeah, I asked around, I heard about that. Not that it did you much good. It has to hurt, I think – does it? Knowing that Trixie’s booking is worth more than your word? That’s gotta sting. But I’m not sure how much of a hold your word even has anymore, you bitter fucking cunt.”
Shea, behind the camera, drew in a shocked breath at the pure vitriol in Katya’s voice.
There was a stillness to the air for a long moment, like the silence after a hurricane has swept the earth bare and ragged. Then the other queen laughed again; louder this time, acidic, but with a definite note of finality – of defeat.
“If everyone could see you now,” she said.
Katya barked a laugh of his own. “Girl, they wouldn’t care. I’m America’s fucking sweetheart.” He stepped back and waved a hand in the space visible between the curtains; it was shaking finely, Brian could see it. “Get the fuck out of here. I’m not dealing with you today. Call back tomorrow – I’ll be friendly again.”
The curtains fluttered as hurried footsteps passed by and receded out of the room, the door to the common lounge sliding open and then shut.
Katya’s shadow shifted. Back and forth, like he was caught up on a decision; then he said, quiet, muffled: “fuck.” Footsteps rang in the opposite direction – towards, Brian assumed, his own bunk, as there was the fumbling sound of feet on rungs and then the rattle of metal rings as the curtains were pulled shut.
The camera reversed. Shea stared up at it, her eyes filling most of the screen, hilariously wide and scandalized. Then the video went black – and flicked back to that first still, frozen, the anger on Katya’s face deepening the hollows of his cheeks, his eyes throwing sparks through the screen.
Brian stared down at the rictus of his face, then pressed the phone down screen-first beside him into his mattress. The hard lines of its body bit into the insides of his fingers.
Fuck. What the fuck.
He could stop the video, but he couldn’t make his brain put away the tired lines that had cut into Katya’s face, or the ragged edge of his voice, or how the sound of his palm hitting solid wood had rung through Shea’s bunk, bouncing thickly off the walls.
The room was too small. Brian dragged himself up and went out into the living room, phone in his fist tucked into his pocket, but out there it was too big, and his skin felt all wrong, and he wanted to call Katya but he couldn’t make himself do it.
Katya hadn’t called or texted since the night of the pageant, when Brian had waited and waited all night but the internet – and that fan in the bar who’d clocked him – had stayed miraculously silent. Katya hadn’t called, or texted, or tweeted, or even updated his fucking instagram.
God.
Brian’s phone buzzed suddenly in his pocket and he almost threw it at the balcony doors in his haste to get it out. He fumbled it awake – and then he saw the name on the screen, and his shoulders slumped again.
FROM: ADORE - 10:28 AM - Sunday August 24th, 2017
I forgot to ask but can u water my plants??? this is the longest ive gone without killing any of them :(
LA sucks.
it’s like *jaws theme* all the time. and i forgot my sunglasses
He swiped his phone unlocked and read through the texts, mouth twitching feebly towards an almost-smile. It buzzed in his palm again and a picture appeared – Adore, nose scrunched, squinting into the sky.
Brian typed back, i promise, you can definitely afford another pair of sunglasses. and yes, your plants are safe in my hands.
The answer came quickly, every letter infused with the kind of wry snark that Adore was so good at: dont make promises my lawyers can’t keep
Brian huffed a quiet laugh. The sound was swallowed up in the space of the apartment, a small rock dropped in a large lake, not even reaching far enough to touch the walls.
*
Adore had come out the morning after that night to find him on the couch, his guitar abandoned on the coffee table, staring out into the thin morning light. It wasn’t even 7 AM. He’d gotten four or so hours of restless sleep before giving up on it; the room was lit such a soft grey that he might as well have wrapped in a dream anyway. He’d been staring out at the clouds and the inkstain crows flecked along the telephone wires for so long that they’d blurred, like an impressionistic painting – barely real.
Adore had gone and sat beside him. Then she’d leaned over, carefully, and rested her head on his shoulder. He’d shuddered – one long wave through his whole body. She was warm. When she breathed her chest expanded against his arm, slow and steady like waves coming into the shore. He’d only been able to bear it for a few minutes before he’d had to get up, fingers twitching at his side; he’d given her an apologetic smile, and she’d watched him walk back to his room with her chin on her wrist, her forearm braced against the back of the couch.
He’d checked twitter one more time, and then fallen into deep, exhausting sleep.
*
“That’ll be thirty-two dollars and forty cents, please,” said the bored young woman behind the till, eyeing his – genuinely embarrassing – collection of groceries: ramen noodles, tomato sauce from a jar, the kind of shitty white wine he’d drunk in senior year of college, and stuff to make a salad, out of the idealistic hope that he might actually make a salad.
“I’ll just put that on my credit card,” Brian said. He watched her surreptitiously as she entered the amount onto the card reader. Adore had brought him here a few times, but he didn’t recognize her.
“This your first day?” he said, then winced.
“Huh?”
“I mean. Are you new?”
Now she was eyeing him, even less impressed than she’d been by his groceries. “No…”
“Oh.” He ran a hand over his head awkwardly. He’d forgotten his cap at home. “I just, I haven’t seen you here before. I thought…”
Her mouth twitched, and she popped her gum, a sharp snap in the air. The sound was somehow scornful. “Listen, mister – I’m working, you know, and even if I weren’t, I don’t go out with the kind of guy that bothers –”
“Oh my god, no,” Brian said, flushing, “Oh my god, no, I’m gay. What? No.”
“Oh,” she said. She started turning red too. “Oh. Shit – uh, I mean –”
He laughed awkwardly. “Don’t worry about it. Sorry for being, uh, super weird and stuff.”
The lights overhead were the sickly fluorescent yellow of small-time grocery stores everywhere. He could have been anywhere – east coast or west, north or south, any timezone, any city, any tour. His shoes squeaked on the floor when he shifted from heel to heel.
How was it less than a week ago that he’d felt so at home in this city he didn’t know at all?
“Your receipt,” the cashier said. She held it out towards him, then hesitated visibly. “Listen, uh… are you okay, man?”
He shrugged, stilted, and took the receipt, then grabbed the bags by their handles. “Oh, you know. More of the same,” he said.
It was awful to realize he meant it.
*
Touring was a little bit like being a ghost in your own body. You were breathing and eating and sleeping, but you might as well have been walking through walls, the way you drifted from place to place, squinting at google maps on your phone, talking to people whose names you’d either forget within five minutes or never knew in the first place. You could be anywhere at all; you might as well be nowhere.
Brian drank shitty wine and played into the night, the notes echoing hollowly across the big empty space of Adore’s living room. Music usually anchored him into his body on the road. Every chord brought him a little closer, the muscles, tendons, bones of his hands all tuned in to the melody with the ease of years. He could close his eyes and wherever he was, he was home.
But each time he opened his eyes again he was someplace new.
Seattle wasn’t a tour stop, but its grey skies, the neighbours he ran into on the staircase, the people he saw in the grocery store – none of them were home. But, fuck it, neither was LA, where he spent a few days every month or two and sometimes found himself waking up wondering whose walls he was looking at. And where the fuck did that leave him?
He played a sour note, paused, and corrected himself. Breathed. Tried to bring Emmylou’s lilting refrain back under his fingers.
Without Adore’s voice in the next room livestreaming her way out of boredom, the apartment grew stale and shadowed; without Katya’s calls every night, the days seemed endless, a pale stretch of hours where he did nothing and saw no one. And as each hour ticked past on the clock it became more and more obvious that the veneer of sunshine he’d pasted over Seattle with Adore’s friendly warmth and the sound of Katya’s smile was just that – a veneer.
Another sour note. He stopped and lay his guitar flat in his lap, then picked up his glass on the coffee table and drained it.
His phone lay still and silent beside the wet ring his glass had left on the wood.
He flicked a bit of lint from the couch off his boxers and took up his guitar again, tracing out the melody that he’d been chasing these past weeks on automatic. The sky outside was ripening, edging into evening. It was almost fall. He’d been in Seattle for three weeks, and it seemed he really hadn’t moved an inch.
He could call Katya. He could suck it the fuck up and call Katya, because maybe Katya was waiting for him to call. Maybe this whole ‘respecting Katya’s space’ thing he was doing was totally misguided, and Katya was waiting beside the phone every minute that he wasn’t out there defending Brian’s honour or whatever that was.
I fucked you up, he could say. I was so busy pretending that everything was fine now and my problems were gone because they weren’t yelling in my face every two seconds that I didn’t realize I was setting us both up to get hurt. I was so fucking stupid, Katya, and I’m so – I’m so sorry.
And Katya would say…
What?
I just want you to be okay, if he was feeling self-sacrificial; it’s your irrepressible Virgo energy, if he was feeling avoidant. Maybe, maybe, I thought you said you didn’t lie to me, and you weren’t going to start, if he was feeling particularly honest.
Katya was always honest, more or less. It was just that the truth was flexible, more conversation than monologue, and irony always had to have the last word. Brian, meanwhile, was just a bit of a liar.
Not with Katya, though. Not before. And he hadn’t meant to – he really hadn’t meant to, not even for a second; it was just –
Fuck.
It’s worse than I was letting myself feel, Brian could say. There’s things I don’t know how to tell you. Because it is about you.
His throat tightened; he let go of the frets. He grabbed for his drink blindly and for his notebook with his other hand. Resting it against the body of his guitar, he opened to a blank page and scrawled,
You fought yourself to bring all your feelings down to heel,
and if you stopped yourself from looking, was it ever really real
but everyone’s been looking
and you –
Something inside of him was drifting dangerously, thin tethers tied to his ribs all that held it in place, like a threadbare sail on fraying ropes. The words on the page blurred in front of his eyes. He raised his glass to his mouth but the rim bumped against his teeth and nothing came out. Empty.
He frowned down at his cup. Like, fuck that nonsense. He’d put good money down on those teeth.
The wine sloshing into the glass when he poured himself another sounded like the ocean creeping onto the shore on a windless day. Like Provincetown – another place he’d gone to hide; another town full of strangers. He set the bottle back on the table, cap off, and picked up his guitar again.
*
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday he went running in the morning like nothing had changed. Before, Adore would be waking up when he got back; one of them would make breakfast, then they’d jam for a while, and then Adore would smoke up and Brian would text Katya, if he hadn’t already done so.
Now Brian just jogged. Further and further each day, until Thursday found him running along the seaside, pounding the pavement with salt stinging the inside of his mouth on every inhale. The sky was a soft feather blue, the ocean a deep silk bedsheet wavering in his peripheral vision – and then the mass of Pike Place rose up in front of him. Before he could think about it, his feet were carrying him inside; past the florists, past the bursting orange and red arrays of fresh fruit, and down the stairs to the magic shop’s door.
He wiped the sweat off his forehead with the collar of his tank top, grimaced, then pushed the door open and stepped inside.
It was just-opened quiet on the floor. No customers, no music; just a vague shuffling from behind the counter. “Just a minute,” the shuffler called. “If this accursed speaker breaks on me one more time…”
There was a crackling sound from the speakers set high in the walls, like a cheap firework skidding along cement, and then a whole storm of swearing below the counter.
“Uh,” Brian said. He approached cautiously. “Can I take a look? I might be able to help.”
“No, it’s really fine –” A frazzled head popped up from behind the register. “Oh! It’s you! I know you. You think you can fix it? The damn thing goes off all the time, the wiring’s too old –”
Brian shrugged. “I work in clubs and theatres and stuff, so I’ve picked up a thing or two. Let me see.”
Steph – that was her name, he remembered – was as curly-haired and strangely-dressed as when they’d met, with a sprig of rosemary tucked behind the large crow-shaped brooch pinned to her blouse and dust all over her knees. He crouched down beside her and squinted at the mess of wires and cords, poking a hesitant finger around and hoping he wouldn’t get fried. That sound had not been good.
“I think,” he said after a minute, “I think it’s this. Hang on. I’m gonna – if I die, tell my momma I loved her, and tell my dad –” he ducked further under the desk. “Well, whatever you like, if you can find him.”
She barked a laugh behind him.
He didn’t die, although he did burn his fingers a little bit, and when the music started playing (some kind of witchy Swedish wailing, possibly Bjork, Katya – Katya would know –) he let out a “Hah!” of triumph. Eat that, three years on the road and four years of theatre school and thousands of dollars funnelled directly into the University of Wisconsin’s incredibly deep pockets. Eat the shit out of that.
Steph helped him out with two hands around his forearm, shaking him delightedly once he was more or less standing. “You’re a miracle worker,” she said with a bright smile. “I should hire you on the spot, because clearly you’re the real magic here.”
He wiped the sweat off his forehead with his free arm and grinned down at her. Clear bright light was streaming through the high windows in the walls, glinting off her brooch, her earrings, the silver in her hair. Her smile and easy warmth was the same as it had been before, and, god, that was nice. “I’ve got greasepaint coming out of ears,” he said, shrugging modestly. “You can’t really call yourself a theatre kid until you’ve nearly died a dozen different ways trying to string up the speakers on the janitor’s old ladder. ”
“Different ways?”
He waved a hand. “You know, falling, electrocution – so boring. A good old-fashioned garrotte is where it’s at.”
Her eyes scrunched at the corners when she laughed. “I like you,” she said, grinning, “you’re strange,” and he grinned back, feeling lighter than he had all week.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he said. Then: “Oh, hey, the book you sold me is great. Who knew reading about the end of the world could make you feel better about life?”
“That’s right, the apocalypse poems, you…” Steph said, then paused. “God, I’m so sorry, I don’t remember your name. But you’re Danny’s friend, right?”
Brian blinked. Swallowed.
“Yeah,” he said; it came out forced, like he was overcompensating for something. “Yeah, sorry, it’s Brian. Yeah. I took some time off work and I’ve been staying with Danny.”
“Oh, do you work together?” she said, brightly and obliviously twisting the knife. “I know he does something or other with clubs and theatres and whatnot too. He’s very private about those things, but such a sweetheart. I haven’t seen him around in a while, though, how he is?”
“Away on business,” Brian said, “and, you know, we’ve been keeping busy otherwise. I’ll tell him you asked.” He wiped his palms against the sides of his shorts. “Listen, I actually – I should probably be going, actually. I’m supposed to be skyping him in about half an hour.”
An absolute lie, but Steph swallowed it without a flicker of suspicion. She smiled and pressed a hand to his arm. “Tell him I send my love. And thanks again for your help, Brian. I don’t know how many more shocks my old heart could take.”
“Oh stop,” he said, chuckling, and gave a little wave. “See you around, I guess?”
The polite small talk of strangers. Preferable to a slow death, but not by, like, a lot.
Brian took the stairs back up to the ground level slowly, although his heart rate was well back to normal by this point. He wandered out of the arcade, and turned, and walked, and turned, and then he was on a raised dock, leaning against a wooden rail next to a locked gate, which guarded the ramp down to the boats. The wood pressed into the front of his ribs. He curled his palms around the rail, ignoring the bite of splinters.
A light breeze ruffled his shirt and cooled his pink cheeks. The ocean stretched out before him, golden sunshine catching in the crests and troughs of the waves.
He closed his eyes.
*
At home, he typed, i hope you’re doing okay. i love you.
Deleted it.
Typed, today someone didnt recognize me and THAT made me sad. i think i need an intervention.
Deleted it.
Typed, went to the beach to sea what all the commocean was about but idk im still not shore
Deleted it.
Sighed, stared out the window, looked down at his feet.
Typed, i’m sorry. katya, i’m so sorry.
Deleted it.
*
“You’re so white from these shadowed winter months,” Katya crowed, shielding his eyes dramatically. “I don’t know if I can be seen with you.”
“You’re real white from being born, you know, caucasian and unfortunate, but I’ve suffered your company for years,” said Brian. He frowned and wiped at his nose where something wet was dripping – sweat or sunscreen, he didn’t know. “If you really can’t bear it, I’m sure I can find one of these tanned, strapping, oiled-up hunks of meat who’d be willing to walk with me –”
Katya grabbed his arm mid-gesture. “No no no, don’t you dare!”
“I’m just saying,” Brian continued, “you invited me, bitch –”
The shine of Katya’s grin, open-mouthed and laughing, was enough to blow his whole awful night out of the water.
They walked. The sun drew rippling air waves out of the too-hot cement; the ocean crashed beautifully green into the white shore. But it somehow wasn’t too crowded, for all that it was the dead of summer, the very peak of beach days. They moved in blissful anonymity. At one point, Katya bought him an ice cream. Brian ate it one-handed, making panicked noises and laughing as it dripped closer and closer to his hand. His other hand was – well. He’d taken Katya’s as they stood waiting for the cone, and he hadn’t let go yet. His stomach flipped giddily every time their steps fell out of sync – their palms would drag against each other, just for a moment, each time making him newly aware again of the calluses on Katya’s palm.
He traced his index finger along the big tendon on the back of Katya’s hand, and Katya glanced at him sideways, quick, lips parting on a short intake of breath. Brian licked at his ice cream and said nothing, warm and smug all over.
Sea breeze and the sting of salt. They leaned over the wooden rail, right into it, shoulders and hips pressed together. The blue stretched endless.
Katya started to turn red in the cheeks around four so they ducked for shade. Brian slouched back against the blush pink wall of some souvenir shop, under the awning, and Katya stood in front of him to block the sun from his eyes. One moment Brian was looking over Katya’s shoulder at the white gulls darting and dipping over the sea; the next, he was blinking up, and Katya was closer, leaning in, one hand on the wall beside his head, his gaze flickering over Brian’s face with the same combination of lazy ease and breathless flight as the birds in the air.
Brian blinked, processing, then licked his lips to wet them. “Feeling tall?” he said.
“Feeling lots of things,” said Katya, smiling faintly. “Tall may or may not be one of them. No one’s ever accused me of a Napoleon complex, Tracy – and my psychological rap sheet is longer than the Mariana Trench. You always take me to new and exciting places, did you know that? That’s why we’re friends.”
“I thought it was for the free therapy and life coaching.”
“Don’t undersell yourself, mama. What’s newer or more exciting than uncertified therapy and dubious life coaching?”
Brian laughed. “I don’t know that ‘new’ and ‘exciting’ are words that many people have applied to me – out of drag, at least.” His mouth twitched. “You might be du-biased.”
He expected Katya to throw back his head, lean away and laugh, but instead – Katya leaned closer, his eyes glinting with mirth. “I’m gonna kill you,” he said, “I’m gonna kill you right here and dump your body into the ocean in front of the tourists, God, and everybody, and no one will punish me when they hear about the years of pun-spewing bullshit you’ve put me through.”
He was so close. Brian’s stomach flipped again; he could feel Katya’s warmth all along him, make out the freckles on his nose. “Kill me?” he said, mouth dry.
Katya blinked. Something about the set of his jaw, the small lines around his eyes, seemed suddenly vulnerable, intense and somehow opened wide.
“Yeah,” he said after a moment. “Or, I dunno. Maybe that other thing.”
Brian held his breath. All he could hear was the crashing of the waves, loud and close – or maybe that was the sound of his heartbeat in his ears. He reached up and brushed the tips of his fingers along the sharp line of Katya’s cheek.
Katya’s chest hitched.
The breeze chased the sunlight through the empty pier, stirring the sand across the wood, and Katya leaned in, slow enough that Brian could stop him if he wanted. Brian didn’t. He lifted his face, eyes slipping shut; and Katya’s mouth fell on the corner of his, once, soft, then warm against his right cheekbone, and again on his left. Brian exhaled shakily.
“What,” he said, unsteady. “Can’t kiss me when the cameras aren’t on?”
Katya huffed a laugh, the breath warm on Brian’s face. He curled a hand below Brian’s ribs; his fingers dipped into the hollow in his tank top to brush against bare skin. Brian shivered. Voice barely louder than the wind in the distance, Katya said, “My life would be so much simpler if that were true.”
Brian opened his eyes. He looked up and met Katya’s gaze, and his mouth twitched, almost a smile. Katya’s stubble scratched at his fingertips as he settled his palm more firmly along the curve of his jaw. “Well, you’re not really a simple woman,” Brian said, and Katya was laughing when he leaned down and kissed him properly.
When he opened his eyes, the sun’s lowest rays had dipped below the edge of the awning, lighting Katya up in gold, and he tipped his head back to rest against the wall, wrapped his free arm around Katya’s waist, and said, “Come home with me.”
Except that’s not what happened at all.
When he opened his eyes, the sun was shining, and Katya was lit with gold, and he tipped his head back against the wall and thought about saying it –
– then smiled crookedly, and said instead, “You kiss like you have heat stroke.” And Katya threw back his head and laughed, wheezed, “no, just heat rash,” while the sun caught in his hair and lashes.
It’s not what happened, but it could have been. He could have taken Katya home, and pressed him up against the hallway inside his door, all that sun-warm skin under his hands. He could have kissed him the way he wanted to. He could have blown him right there with his knees sore against the hardwood, or taken his hand again and drawn him back into the bedroom, kissing him all the way. And after – Brian could have asked him to stay.
That wasn’t how it happened, but, crashed out on the couch in Seattle after his run, Brian dreamed every moment of it. Every inch of hot skin and the rasp of sheets and falling asleep together and waking up together. And when he woke up – alone – he pressed his hands flat against his stomach, feeling like something had been taken out of him. Feeling ill, feeling exhausted, feeling like his head was buzzing and his mind was five feet outside of his body.
Eventually he dragged himself up and fumbled for his phone. He wiped at the inner corners of his eyes with his knuckle as he thumbed it awake; then he pressed his palm over his face, exhaling shakily.
No new messages. Of course.
His whole body hummed feverishly, the twinned effect of the sun on his morning run and the one in his dream. Maybe that was what fucked over his self-control, that sick feeling like he was out of his head, or maybe he was just giving in to the inevitable – but, whatever it was, he opened his messages and, despite all his better judgement, typed out: check in?
Hating himself a little, he hit send.
When there was no response thirty minutes later, despite the read receipt that had popped up almost immediately, he left to go find something to drink.
*
“Oh hey, it’s you,” said the girl behind the counter. She eyed his purchases. “Wow. I didn’t think it could get sadder than last time…”
Brian huffed a short laugh. “Still gay, don’t worry.”
“Uh huh,” she said. She ran the first wine bottle – yes, first, thanks so much – under the scanner and hit a few buttons. “So is the whole sad and gay deal an aesthetic thing? How much Lana have you listened to in the past three days? I’m trying to decide if I should be staging an intervention that I’m – full disclosure – not really qualified for.”
“Do sad gays get a discount at this establishment?”
“Nope,” she said, popping it like bubblegum. “Sorry.”
She finished ringing him, his three bottles of wine, his pack of sour key candies, and his thoroughly depleted dignity through the machine.
“Credit,” he said, offering it over.
He was threading his hands through the bag handles, waiting for his card back, when she said, “Hey. What’s your name, man?”
He blinked. “It says on the card.”
“Yeah, whatever,” she said, handing it over wrapped in his receipt with an eye-roll. “So what is it?”
“Brian,” he said, and looked at the sallow lights on her face, wondering where she was going with this.
“Brian,” she repeated. “Hi, Brian, I’m Mariam.”
Her tone was conversational but somehow serious, weighted, and Brian – Brian swallowed against the sudden and unexpected feeling of his throat going tight.
“Now who’s hitting on who?” he managed, and she chuckled, but didn’t lose that look in her eyes.
“Brian. Take care of yourself, hey?” she said.
The lights glared brightly across the empty floor, the rows upon rows of no-name brands and the scuff marks on the shitty linoleum. She was watching Brian like maybe he needed watching. He swallowed again, and nodded, and left without another word.
*
Dust motes floated in the slowly draining sunlight when he returned to the apartment. The whole space of it echoed with the closing of the door. He kicked off his shoes, cracked open the first bottle, and went to get his guitar, glass in hand.
Hours passed. He drank more. He scribbled in his notebook, crossed things out, scrawled corrections in the margins. There was too much in his head. Words tumbled out like a hole had been torn somewhere, all the loose change and lint of his brain escaping despite his best efforts to plug the gap. His writing got sloppier, slanted; he wiped wine from his mouth with the back of his hand and turned the page.
The beach, the dream, the night before. The months of build-up, the moment of release. Wanting, wanting, he wanted so much and he had told himself, when he was a kid, that someday he would be able to have all the things he wanted. If he was smart enough and good enough, quick enough on his feet, he could make anything happen. But here he was: trapped into stillness as the path under his feet cut off abruptly. Because how could he have all the things he wanted when they existed at such cross-purposes?
Or was it just him? Not the fame, not the fans, not the industry, and certainly not Katya – maybe it was Brian at cross-purposes with all of it, putting himself in his own way, selfish and stubborn and cowardly, refusing to accept with good grace what the universe was offering him.
The sun dipped below the blocky Seattle skyline, the buildings across the road cast in radiant red, as he stumbled into the kitchen to open the third bottle. His hands slipped on the cap; he blinked wearily down at it, then out the window at the purples and pinks of the sky, dappled and streaked like watercolours. The sun was just a winking and burnished glare over the lip of the buildings. He inhaled deeply and it almost seemed like he could still taste salt in the air.
The skyline blurred before his eyes, replaced by the memory of the things his dream had omitted. Walking the long way back down the pier, Katya with one arm hooked around his elbow and the other hand clutching at his bicep like an ingenue, twitching with laughter every minute or so because apparently this was the most heterosexual he’d ever felt. Which, Katya had definitely licked at least one pussy in his day, so. What he meant was probably that it was dumb, and romantic, and brought them so much closer together than held hands as they made their way between the shadows of the tall lights that lined the boardwalk. The sun set in brilliant gold in the distance. Brian remembered the warmth of Katya’s chest against his arm; he remembered looking at Katya’s lips, then away, and wash, rinse, repeat; he remembered the sign they passed, jutting up out of the middle of the boardwalk: END OF THE TRAIL.
He remembered going home alone, flushed and giddy with the heat of the day, and turning on his phone to see a new notification from his facebook messages. date night tracy?, it said, captioning a photo of him and Katya on the boardwalk, arm in arm, the soft look on his face all too bare in the deep amber light of the sun setting over the ocean.
Brian shook his head, and poured himself another drink.
The night after that was all in flashes. His fingers sliding along the strings of his guitar. Losing his pen under the couch; hunting through Adore’s drawers for another one. Sweet sad notes filling the room, lingering in the air like sea salt. Fumbling with his phone; his guitar; his own hands.
Love’s the kind of feeling that’s not easy to derail, that was good, that was fine, but I find that I’ve been tryin’ ‘cause, ‘cause what, ‘cause what –
He lost another pen. After that… he didn’t remember much after that.
*
Brian woke to a splitting headache and a buzzing phone.
The phone was on his stomach; his head was on the arm of the couch. He blinked into the bright morning light and groaned, covering his eyes.
His phone buzzed again.
Whatever it was, it could fucking wait. He let it fall to the side as he rolled over, taking in the mess of paper and pens – what the fuck, where did he get so many pens – on the coffee table, the empty wine bottles, his guitar abandoned carelessly on the floor. The glass doors to the balcony were open, though he didn’t remember opening them, and the harsh cawing of the crows outside made his eyes water.
Jesus fucking Christ.
He stood unsteadily and made his way to the kitchen, where a bag of sour key candies lay splayed open and empty on the counter and a plate with the mysterious remnants of what might be a drunken midnight snack lay beside the sink. He stared at one, then the other, then turned decisively to get a glass out of the cupboards and fill it from the tap. He downed it in one go and poured himself another.
Back by the couch, his phone was buzzing again.
Katya, he realized through the groggy fullness in his head. That could be Katya.
He returned to the couch and lowered himself gingerly, full glass clutched in one hand. He fumbled the phone trying to grab it, which probably said bad things about the balance of alcohol to water in his system at that moment; then he thumbed it awake and scanned it as quickly as he could through the low-burning nausea of his hangover.
There was, in fact, a notification from Katya. A missed call at 2:23 AM. Brian’s heart leapt and his mouth went dry; but then he looked past that, at the avalanche of notifications from twitter and instagram, and his whole body turned cold, shoved into full wakefulness and unholy sobriety.
What the fuck had happened last night?
He unlocked his phone and opened instagram to see notifications in the thousands. Thumbing over to his profile, he found a post he didn’t remember making, dated 1:57 AM. That was – he looked at the little clock at the top of his screen: 7:13 AM – barely five hours before. The little thumbnail showed his shoulders over his guitar; when he opened it, he saw it was a video.
Brian stared at the post in horror for a long moment. Then – because there was literally no other choice – he flexed his fingers, which had gone numb, and he hit play.
The screen cut to his face, frowning blearily and too close, as he tried to prop his phone up. He looked – exhausted. Shit. Dark circles under his eyes, a tight, stressed set to his mouth, which twisted down as he failed to make the phone stand steady a third time. Finally he – the Brian on screen – muttered a sharp fuck, and just leaned the phone back against something or other, putting his glass of wine in front of it to hold it upright, so the rim blurred out the bottom of the frame.
He stepped back, sat down, and pulled his guitar into his lap.
Brian, the Brian watching, took shallow breaths against a rising nausea. His pulse thrummed loudly under the thin skin of his neck.
The camera captured the body of his guitar, the slouch of his shoulders, and part of his mouth, which he wiped at with the back of his hand, pick balanced easily between his fingers. Then he sat up straighter, squaring his shoulders and sliding his other hand up the neck of the guitar into place – Brian remembered that, cool smooth wood under his palm, he remembered glancing at the camera and thinking fuck it, fuck this –
The Brian on screen played an open chord and then set into the melody that made up the verses, the tumbling notes, middle finger – pinky finger – ring finger, and, watching, his brain cut through the fog to focus on that, ring finger, ring finger, the song he’d been working on all this past month coming together despite the drunken way he slid between the metal frets.
And then he started to sing, and Brian went from feeling slightly nauseous to being absolutely certain he was about to throw up.
It wasn’t the verses, thank god. Not the harried scribbles that filled pages upon pages in his notebook, most of them awful, all of them never to be fucking revealed to the world at large because they were his, ugly and sincere and too personal. All the moments that made him want to try; all the things that made him afraid. But this –
“Love’s the kind of feeling that’s not easy to derail
But I find that I’ve been trying ‘cause
I can’t see the when and where –”
A chorus is a vague thesis; but, watching, he still felt stripped wholly bare.
“I hear waves in my dreams at night,
Feel the sunlight and your stare,
So maybe it’s to no avail –
And maybe ‘stay’ won’t turn out stale –”
Brian swallowed, fumbled for his glass of water, tried to hear anything but the roaring in his ears, see anything but his face dipping into frame as he bent lower over the guitar, eyes closed, face pained as he sang stay. And he was sliding through the notes like a drunk stumbling through a door, graceless but functional and – worst of all – far too honest.
“But I still don’t know if I can go
Off-road at the end of the trail.”
Fuck.
The video didn’t end abruptly – apparently, when drunk, he couldn’t make the crop function work for him – but with an agonizing slowness, the last, aching note from his guitar hanging hollowly in the air. His shoulders on-screen rose, then fell; then finally he reached forward for his phone. A flash of his mouth, his cheek, his eyes squinting – and then it went dark, and looped back to the beginning.
He jabbed at the screen to stop it, and stared down at his phone in mute horror, jaw slack and mouth dry.
First things first, he deleted the video. It wouldn’t shut people up, but he couldn’t just let it sit there, all of him laid out in the bare daylight. The raw sound of his voice, scratchy with exhaustion, on his shitty phone mic; that one glimpse of his face, like opening a door you’re not supposed to by accident, the kind of door you can’t close again or back away from. All a room’s quiet secrets, the small ones that cut deepest, framed starkly by the open doorframe.
He wasn’t going to load twitter, or look at the texts that had come in from his friends who’d seen, but then a new one appeared at the top of his screen as his phone buzzed in his hand. It was Shea – a youtube link. His phone buzzed again with a second message, a third, more, all from Shea. He thumbed messenger open, still numb all the way through, and scanned the group chat dispassionately. Then he stopped, and read it again.
FROM: SHEA - 7:17 AM - Friday August 29th, 2017
youtube.com/watch?v=Jf1L34kn0
Please watch this, get your collective shit together, and stop making me feel sad for both of you
Ive got better shit to do with my time
And PLEASE reach out to us, jesus, brian, we care so much and i know youre doing your own thing but we’re really, really worried.
Well. I cant speak for kim. Im worried; that bitch is probably just hungry
He huffed a laugh, but it didn’t feel like one. It felt like something was cracking open inside of him.
His phone buzzed again.
FROM: KIM - 7:18 AM - Friday August 29th, 2017
i can be hungry and worried at the same time cunt
but sheas not wrong, bri.
please.
Brian swallowed, then swallowed again, throat tight and eyes stinging. He took another gulp of his water, then, after a moment’s hesitation, typed, i’m here. i’ll watch it in a minute. i love you guys and im sorry
He wasn’t sure what he was sorry for. There was a whole laundry list of reasons he should be; he might as well cover his bases.
It wasn’t – it wasn’t that he’d been wrong to leave. It wasn’t that he’d been wrong to want out or to go silent. It was just that it could be right for him and wrong for them, and he could be sorry for that, even if he wasn’t sure yet that he regretted it.
He hit send all the same.
His phone buzzed almost instantly with their replies, but he didn’t look, pulling up the youtube link instead. Then: for the second time that morning, his heart stopped and his body went cold.
“help me i’m not dying fast enough”, said the title under the loading video. “Katya Zamolodchikova Periscope (August 29, 2017 @ 2:40 AM)”.
He didn’t want to click – he knew he didn’t want to, and also that he shouldn’t – but he did anyway, because sometimes he was a masochist like that. Lately, especially.
Katya, on-screen, stubbed out a cigarette and lit another one, inhaling deeply.
“I’m not going to tell you how many of these I’ve had tonight,” he said to the camera. “Because it’s none of your business what hell cycle of ideating and ovulating I may or may not be going through right now. That’s first of all.”
He looked… gaunt. Unkempt. Worse than in the video Shea had taken a week earlier.
“It’s a funny thing, to have – kind of – resolved myself to wanting something, and always having it sort-of in reach, and then to realise maybe I can’t have it at all. I could have, but maybe I missed my moment, maybe I didn’t lay out my thesis convincingly enough – maybe maybe maybe. Maybe what I wanted isn’t on the proverbial table anymore. That’s harder, I think, than knowing all along you can’t ever have it. It’s a different kind of wanting. I don’t know.”
He flicked his fingers in the air by his ear, ash falling grey and soft like snow from a rooftop.
“I’ve never been good at wanting things. That’s funny, right? From an addict, I mean. It’s funny. You can laugh – I’m laughing. Maybe you are, I don’t know, I can’t see you. I don’t care.
I’ve never been good at wanting things – I’ve had them, or not had them. It all seemed kind of –” he paused, then laughed, a hoarse bark. “You know, insignificant in the face of the rapid decay of the environment, our bodies, society as a whole, and ultimately the universe itself. The universe is dying, by the way, in case you hadn’t heard. I took a first year physics class, girl, so I know what I’m talking about.”
You read Neil Degrasse Tyson’s book once, you fucking idiot, Brian thought; it rung hollow, as if it came from someplace a good distance from his own body.
“So I’ve never been good at wanting stuff. Drugs isn’t want, drugs is need. And that’s not – I know I look like a mess right now, but a) not on drugs, and b) still not about need. I’m not in some kind of I’ll-die-without-you pseudo-love psycho-abusive Nicholas Sparks kinda bullshit. I’m just – I’m just sad. I’m just really fucking sad. And I’ll delete this tomorrow, and anyway –” Katya looked sharply into the camera, and for a moment, Brian felt seen – “I figure it’s only fair.”
“So anyway,” Katya continued. He turned away, towards the road; his eyes lit up with amber streetlight, glass-green and shadowed. “We’re all dying. I know, Brenda, I’m a broken record over here about it, but we’re all dying, and that’s kind of a big deal. And I love it! In some strange, existential way, it’s liberating, it’s electrifying, it brings you closer to your own body and soul and maybe even God, if, I don’t know, that’s your thing sometimes – ‘your’ being mine – but then –”
He stopped himself. Brian watched as his fingers tapped frenetically against the side of his cigarette for a moment, then he raised it, pursed his mouth, inhaled. Exhaled. He lifted his face to watch the smoke rise and disappear.
When he looked back down, he was smiling, crooked at the edges, like it hurt. “But then something comes into your life, and suddenly, it’s like, wait. Hang on. I want to see more of that – let’s stop the death train, maybe. Let’s put a hold on this dying shit. Because whatever it is I’m feeling, I want that, and – and – and why the fuck am I wasting time killing myself when this has been here, maybe all along. Self-indulgent fatalism suddenly starts to feel – selfish.”
“I mean,” he interrupted himself, suddenly and obviously changing tacks as a thought struck him, “please still come to my show. It’ll be so good. All these questions and more will be addressed – not answered, because who cares about answers, but asked? Yes. More questions than you ever wanted. Please come.”
He flashed a smile, plastic-white, but it melted away too quickly into the same tired pallor.
“I don’t know. I don’t even know if anything I’m saying is true. I want all sorts of things all the time, but it’s always a little bit – intellectual. Like, wow, I wonder what having that would be like? Feel like? I’ve never experienced this kind of wanting that doesn’t have an endpoint – it won’t just stop once I get it. It goes forward. It has a future. What the fuck is up with that, you know?
But it’s not – you don’t just get to have things.”
His voice cracked.
“No. Okay. One second,” he said, and then he disappeared around the camera. Brian could still hear him breathing, though, quiet in the night air, an eerie echo of so many phone calls over the past month.
When Katya returned, he lit himself another cigarette, and this one didn’t shake between his fingers. “I’m going to delete this the minute it ends, for the record. I don’t know why I’m even doing it. I guess I’m just lonely. I know, I’ve been on tour, and that’s great, but – I dunno. It’s lonely. Work is lonely. Dying is lonely. And there’s one thing I want and I thought I could have it but – turns out – I probably can’t, and that’s – that’s lonely too.”
His mouth twisted, an almost-smile.
“I always thought that was such a cliché: to feel alone in the middle of a crowded room. And I love a cliché when it’s not played straight, but. Maybe, sometimes, the crowd doesn’t matter when one person’s not in it.
Anyway. I’m doing a lot of whining for someone with not a lot of problems, comparatively. And this problem isn’t even really mine. Not at its core. Selfish, right? But hey – no one’s making you tune in, Elizabeth.”
He took a final, decisive drag on his cigarette.
“Okay. I’m gonna go listen to some ambient noise and try to sleep.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “Ocean sounds, track four: a classic. Yeah. Yeah, okay. Bye.”
The streetlight blanketing his face in fragile white, he looked into the screen again, directly, as if he could see Brian there looking back at him, heart sore in his throat. Then the video went dark.
Brian sat and stared down at the phone in his hands. Between the low buzzing nausea of his hangover and the Seattle morning greyness, the world around him felt – distant. Not quite real. Not as real or as close as that twitch of Katya’s mouth, or the wry, exhausted humour in his voice. The frustration and sadness and longing in every line of his body.
They were both so stupid. And so fucked.
He tapped out of Safari and into his messages, where he typed again, check in?
Knees tucked into his chest, he waited, and a minute later the reply came in – the little OK emoji, thumb pinched to index finger.
He exhaled loudly and pressed his hand over his eyes.
The phone buzzed against his thigh a moment later and he looked down again. It wasn’t from Shea or Kim like he thought it might be – it was, unexpectedly, another text from Katya. All it said was: you?
He bit his lip, thinking about it. He wasn’t going to let himself lie, to himself, to Katya, not again. He wasn’t going to do that to them. But the honest answer was – yes. He wasn’t good. He wasn’t better. But he was okay, for all the values of okay that the check-in had meant since the first time Katya had needed it: I’m alive, I’m safe, I’m here.
Yeah, he typed and sent, that’s about right.
He looked up from his phone at a sudden noise beyond the front door – a thump, like something heavy had been dropped.
It could have been one of Adore’s neighbours, so he dragged himself up and started to walk over, ready to offer assistance if needed. The woman upstairs was older, and generally bought more groceries than she could carry. But as he was approaching the door he heard the scrape of a key in the lock, and then the handle began to turn.
Adore wasn’t supposed to be back until that evening.
“Hello?” he started to ask, but then the door swung open, and he was staring into a pair of very tired, very startled eyes that definitely weren’t Adore’s.
“What the fuck,” said Bianca del Rio.
To his own surprise, a burst of laughter punched out of Brian’s stomach. “Yeah,” he said, staring back at Bianca, at the douchey sneakers on his feet, the Shangela shirt he was wearing, and the small duffel he’d dropped behind him. Brian found himself smiling, just a little. “Same.”
#I've said this to u already but… why#trixya#trixie mattel#katya zamolodchikova#dare#angst#submission#fathwtf#canon compliant
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Tagged by @multikverse !! thanks fam :^J
edit: i was also tagged by @comeget7 thank u,,, ily,,, you know you can talk to me whenever right :^J
Name:
nyx (again, online name not irl one lmao)
Gender:
attack helicopter (jk im a girl that joke is dead i know)
Star Sign:
satanic sex demon, cause that seems to be the stereotype (aka scorpio)
Height:
idk???? around 5″3 i think?? im smol
Middle Name:
my mum’s name. lmao sorry
Put your iTunes on shuffle. What are the first 6 songs that popped up?
a - got7
4 walls - f(x)
sweetheart - monsta x
broken heart - monsta x
she’s a monster - got7
boyz with fun - bts
seems like my playlist decided only to play korean today lmao, i do listen to english music but i kinda downloaded like all of got7, bts and monsta x’s albums so like oops
Grab the book nearest to you and turn to page 23. What’s line 17?
“He was dubious about the cargo, but he did know something about Europeans swooping in and laying claim to everything they saw as if it were unquestionably theirs, land and lives, produce and people.” - The Bane Chronicles by Cassandra Clare (this book is way overdue im fucked)
Ever had a poem or a song written about you?
yes but id rather not remember it
When was the last time you played air guitar?
too long ago brb gonna play it now while blasting clap by svt bc clap is a WHOLESOME BOP
Who is your celebrity crush?
i wonder if my url and icon and header and constant posting about how much i love him gives it away??? its totally yugyeom
now im panicking bc im thinking what if someone was too dense for the sarcasm it happens a lot so just in case i was kidding bambam is my ult i lvoe him
What sound do you hate? And love?
hate? that ringing in your ears when its too silent. but i love the sound of waves crashing against the shore, the faint twitter of birds in the morning, and most of all, the holy laugh of kunpimook bhuwakul. (tbh just any of my biases/bias groups laughing gives me life)
Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens?
i kinda wanted to believe in ghosts but im a see it to believe it kinda person so nah. aliens i believe in yeah, we can’t be the only things living out there. the universe is too big for that.
Do you drive? If so have you ever crashed?
i don’t drive but ive crashed billy carts if that counts
What was the last book you read?
book???? i dont even know, ive only been reading fanfics for the past like year
Do you like the smell of gasoline?
kys
What was the last movie you saw?
thor: ragnarok 10/10 would recommend its SO GOOD AND FUNNY and somehow unpredictable even tho they used the same type of joke x200 times but the timing is so perfect it got me every time
What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?
a dent in my forehead so i had a patch on there for a week
Do you have any obsessions right now?
got7, bts, ace, kpop in general, save me pls,,,,
Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong?
no shame in being a petty ass bitch yeah i hold grudges im petty
In a relationship?
rip no @ my crush you should....date me,, i got meme game and great hair what more could you be lookin for//shot im kidding im just a dork and im soft
im tagging: nobody bc idk??? you if you wanna do it @ anyone
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95 Thoughts I Had During the PLL Finale
If its not already obvious, spoilers below.
1) What the hell is this scene?
2) I think this is a dream, why is there no one else around
3) Jennas on a horse, dream theory confirmed
4) Off to a weird start already
5) Hannah is too nice, Mona tried to kill you honey, let that friendship die
6) Caleb won’t say hi? Thats super fucking shady baby please don’t be A.D.
7) oh fuck is that Melissa?
8) JK its mona..wait why is she even wearing a mask?
9) If I were Aria, I’d be pissed as hell that Hannah brought Mona along, like kick her ass out?
10) Oh god Aria,stop crying, why cant you marry bae? Actually I dont even care.
11) Spencer that was a BOLD move...oh fuck that its for scrabble?!
12) How is Mona trying to act like she doesnt know who A is, didnt she see him/ her at Radley? Or are we supposed to just forget about that?
13) oooh no poor Aria sorry boo
14) Oh hey its mary drake
15) the spencer/ mary drake relationship annoys me to be honest
16) how did the cop not see them holding hands?
17) Ezra is fucking goals..except that time he was kind of A and writing a book about them behind their back.
18) Aria’s dad will forever creep me the fuck out
19) Alison and Em’s mom are being so obvious
20) Alison is deff gunna propose
21) Random thought I’ve had since 2010- Spencer’s mom (before that mary drake shit) looks like Olivia Benson
22) Why do they keep talking about Addison? Why are we supposed to care about her? Marlene don’t make her part of this I WILL FLIP.
23) The moms mentioned the basement! Are they going to tell us how they got out?!?!
24) Nope they are not
25) I’ve been hearing about their relationships since 2010, wrap it up and start talking about A.D.!
26) whyyyyy do they dress Alison so horribly? Like even her pajamas are horrendous
27) called that proposal
28) That ring is so pretty!!!
29)”How much damage can she do in one night” FORESHADOWING!!!!!!!!!!
30) any scene with a naked toby is a gift, I'm about it
31) Toby’s hair looks so soft
32) Who the fuck is playing the piano
33) ohhhh fuck its Mona, im not shocked though
34) Im getting vibes that someone is going to die
35) whaaaaaaat the fuckkkkkk is this place
36) whats happening
37) oh fuck how’d mary get out? I never know how to feel about her
38) DO NOT TELL ME SPENCER HAS A BRITISH TWIN
39) DO NOT TELL ME THAT
40) her british accent is horrendous
41) WREN!
42) Are they trying to pull a parent trap on PLL
43) omg all those times it wasnt spencer!
44) Hannah wasnt sleeping! YO TOBY FUCKED FAKE SPENCER TWICE!
45) I knew i got weird vibes from that airport scene!
46) but why would she do all this if she didnt even know Charlotte?
47) “Till death do us part”...SIG-NIF-I-CANT (sung like Jean-Ralphio from Parks and Rec)
48) Isn’t Wren a fucking psychologist?! there were soooooo many red flags buddy and you missed them ALL
49) oh fuck she killed him and put him in a necklace...casual
50) Remember when Marlene King lied and said they werent going to copy the books?
51) Well actually I take it back she didnt technically lie, she gave us not one but three sets of twins
52) going off track for a second, twins skip a generation so super unlikely that mary drake would have twins
53) also like why couldnt they mention Ali was having twins? im not understanding the twin obsession
54) Back on track...OH FUCK THEYRE WREN’S BABIES
55) Why cant mary help her? thats your daughter bitch!
56) yo Mary literaly sold Alex, I know she didnt have a choice really but thats fucked upppppp.
57) A.D.-Alex Drake....I literally just got that
58) Spencer I wouldve knocked mary out and RAN
59) why does she have bae/Ezra? like what is the point?
60) Rollins looks like Keanu Reeves
61) seriously why is Cece dressed like a fucking pimp
62) wait they just explained like five years worth of plot in five seconds and I can barely understand it because of THAT SHIT ACCENT!
63) honestly them explaining how jenna/sara/sydney are involed so quickly shows how bad this ending really is
64) Toby is gunna figure it out with the horse doesnt like her!!!
65) Horses always know wtf is up
66) Jennas gunna sniff her out
67) Evil twin is such a big leap to make based off a person smelling weird
68) I feel like that whole squad accepted the evil twin theory too quickly like if someone came up to me and was like hey our best friend smells different I think shes being held hostage and the one walking around is actually her evil twin, I would be like ..............what
69) Mona’s a double agent! I think? another one im never sure about
70) Yay theyre out run babies run!
71) why the fuck would you split up have you people learned nothing
72) whaaaaaat, thats not real theyre not actually outside right?
73) I feel like I’m watching Lost honestly
74) Alex walking around with that axe though is my forever mood honestly
75) DONT YOU FUCKING DARE KILL EZRA
76) WAIT WHOSE WHO
77) OHHHH FUCK DONT SHOOT THE WRONG ONE!
78) He shouldve shot Alex fuck that she helped mary escape jail she could easily escape
79) Arias second wedding dress- SO much better
80) oh fuck you marlene king with your cameo shush yourself right off my screen
81) Mona sells dolls in france.....cool cool cool (not cool)
82) deff the creepiest thing ive ever seen in my life
83) oh wait just kidding now its the creepiest thing ive ever seen
84) so Mona’s just full blown psychotic, weve known that since season two thanks for the well written plot twist
85) Dont tell me Addisons about to go missing for a spin off
86) lol addison went missing for a spin off
87) nope sorry im out, i cant invest any more time into another marlene king shit show
88) lemme save you time babies, you better hope addison is dead, cause if not, youre in for a fucking roller coaster of a life
89) in conclusion, im SUPER PISSED jason didnt come back because i looooooved me some jason eye candy
90) I hate that this whole plot was orchestrated by an new character whose only motivation was that she was friends with cece.
91) why did everyone love cece?! she was so fucking shitty like the fuck?
92) I wanted it to be this intricate theory that theyve been planning for years, I really wanted it to be someone weve seen for the past seven years, someone in the background we wouldnt have even thought twice about, that wouldve had alot more shock value
93) also giving it to a new character takes away the opportunity to link A.D. back the original plot for the first five years. I hate how it was essentially two different stories, it makes me feel like the first five years were a waste.
94) Im just dissapointed because i REALLY wanted them to redeem themselves after the Cece/Charlie shit show and they had so many opportunities to make it great and they continued to drop the ball. I like the characters and their personal storylines though, thats the thing ill miss, not the fake reveals and actual reveals that make no sense. Im all about their character growth and personally loved watching them grow on and off screen. Its just a shame the storyline couldnt do them justice.
95) Lets not let Marlene King write anymore shows, K? K.
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Im a huge fucking nerd
final LYRICS FOR ENDOLPHINS AND MC FOUCAULT EP Welcome to Kirby’s Memeland (MILLIPEDES FOR THE MOLEMEN) Got it so hot y'all give me standing ovations while I'm spamming the squat[1] like my whole family's Croatian if my dad's Jackie Chan[2] am I Hispanic or Asian? please understaånd this equation ()[3] me no panic just blazing at any random location i’m your romantic liaison killa Beys in formation[4] the doctor's[5] now handling patients I put the wots in tarnations[6] I put the spots on dalmatians I move the block with my cadence Now time just stops when i say shit But the beat goes on cause i made it Alex Strong[7] in the paint and Singing So Long[8] to fake friends We can roll out the Save ends[9] Y'all kittens tryin my patience I need to find an oasis Pass me that blunt and i'll face it Why y'all stuntin so basic? Im kinda something like LASIK[10] take your quirk and erase it[11] If there's something to say then I'm Malcolm Little and Dakin[12] Welcome to Kirbys Memeland[13] Im a giant herbing with green hands[14] Defiantly serving up steamed hams[15] Yo shuhei hold up i got remands[16] Misery[17] in the moment Missouri in the mornings[18] Mysteries in the motions Miss her seas in this ocean[19] (oh shit) ALL AT ONCE (HOW HARD JAMES HARDIN GOES WHEN HE GOES HARD IN THE PAINT) One day i’ll kill all the white men take back the land we’re missin[20] Im Diego's street art and they're banksy's vandalisms[21] Like the second coming of yeezus[22] and he's risen Built a religion for giant robots[23] called it animism[24] My flow is so fucking preposterous Patrol the land rarer than rhinoceroses[25] Get your heads out the sand yall lookin like ostriches Didn't kill the cat[26] but we checked it into hospice I know yr feeling that and baby one i got this My boys swing the bats like my last name was ausmus[27] Best rappers who aren't black you know i top the list prophets foretold my path (my birth) it was an (heavenly) auspice Imagine how hard james hardin[28] goes when he goes hard in the paint Well i go harder than that On my level you ain't I'm smart as The Bat[29] I'm like double your rank I just started to rap But the devil remains In the details im valued retail theyre resale[30] i'll continue my never ending quest to impress you[31] I’m obsessed with the things that pens do Allah bless this mess because i swear i intend to Decompress and recollect about fucked things that friends[32] do Parenthetically my memes are better than y’all’s Im aesthetically[33] hiding in vectors too small Interjecting my dreams while dissenting all leans[34] Exquisitely dining on minds here at the end of all things [35] We bout those movers and shakers We bustin loose of the matrix[36] I get my fruit at bodegas Im bound to move to NEW VEGAS[37] Matthew McConaughey (HARRY AND THE HUMAN CENTIPEDES) Another space time anomaly[38] An Interstellar[39] odyssey Alright alright alright Im Mathew McConaughey Im unfuckingstoppable the impossible possible The whole world's my hospital not a gd thing is inoperable[40] Credentials are laudable Essentially i got it all Took a look at the d And then called an audible[41] Obliterate any Obstacle Precipitate like waterfalls Instigate a kinder cause Evicerate a haunted ghoul[42] When i fucks with physics the laws get more lax my words carry weight like the world's biggest snorlax[43] Come at me son yr gonna need more VATS[44] carried this town[45] for So Long[46] im getting a sore back their love for me like a tree to the Lorax[47] My lyrics paint pictures so i call them a Rorschach[48] my bones are telling me bad weathers on the forecast a storm is rolling in this is the calm before that Past five centuries all of them regrettable[49] Just like entropy i am inevitable[50] I was meant to leave my head it was full Fundamentally i'm so far ahead of these fools Down five hennessy's trying just to deaden this pulse[51] Iron sentry's lining the edge of the mall[52] 100% dying to dismantle this wall[53] Johnny five empathy no disassemble this bot[54] Quintessentially im X at the head of this school[55] Intermittently you slept in my bed it was cool incidentally we had sex in the end of the pool Human centipede[56] that ass it was my edible[57] G.O.A.T. (NIETZSCHE DIDN’T KILL GOD, I DID) Like JD[58] I’m the GOAT[59] Billy[60] hashtag Swag[61]gert[62] Worlds most accurate fact checking rapper This is a game to me Chutes and ladders[63] Here's where the bangers[64] be girl you know i had ‘er My flow the yangtze[65] i spit venom black adders[66] Opposite of banksy[67] or some bullshit “all lives matter”[68] Fuck the president[69] that dude cant get any badder[70] Cooking up some poppy tea[71] mix it up like cake batter HEY DON'T LOOK AWAY DON'T LET IT GROW ON YOU IT'S NOT OK Engrave the following on my headstone: “They[72] died getting head stoned peepin Tombstone[73] While eatin a tombstone pizza[74]" I’ve gone full blown nietzsche[75] said hello to the abyss "it was good to meet ya"[76] Behind this mask's a terrifying creature[77] Who would gladly cook you up and eat ya Every track i’m on mc foucault's the feature Threat level dragon[78] when im hittin the road again Like shang tsun out here looking for some souls to bend[79] Other rappers words are last years memes im so over them Like neil in the 80s its the weight of the world im shoulderin'[80] Tho ive been there once couldnt tell you where denver starts and boulder ends[81] Rockin california fishes like them pennsylvania colder pens[82] I spit fire like dylon[83] and i left the studio smolderin Sitch is Dire like sylons you used to know as older friends[84] Minds expired with prions[85] when i take theirs skulls and open em Im entirely high on the spirit taking time up and folding it[86] unlike battery acid im so hella caustic[87] Such flattering assets with a tongue so toxic Made saturn's rings spin on a cosmic cross stitch My staggering spit it god agnostic[88] [1] “Why do Slavs squat?” is a satirical catchphrase associated with imageboards and forums discussing Eastern European people and cultures http://knowyourmeme.com/memes/why-do-slavs-squat-slav-squat [2] My dad and jackie chan are aging to look like the same person [3] I use medical marijuana to treat anxiety [4] Beyonce - Formation https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WDZJPJV__bQ [5] My initials are DRB and so many folks call me Doctor or Doctor B [6] “What in Tarnation?” is a rhetorical question meaning “what in damnation?”, which is often associated with Americans living in the Southern United States expressing incredulous bewilderment. http://knowyourmeme.com/memes/what-in-tarnation [7] Drummer of Endolphins and one of the progenitors of this particular beat [8] So Long is my queerpop band SoLongNaota.Bandcamp.com [9] A saving throw in D&D http://dnd4.wikia.com/wiki/Saving_throw [10] Corrective laser eye surgery [11] Boku No Hero Academia character Shota Aizawa “eraser head” who’s special power is erasing others’ special powers http://bokunoheroacademia.wikia.com/wiki/Shota_Aizawa [12] Church of The Three Cats is at the corner of Malcolm X (born Malcolm Little) and Dakin in Lansing, Michigan [13] Gamboy title Kirby’s Dreamland but with memes [14] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Green_Giant but with Weed [15] Simpsons shitpost classic http://knowyourmeme.com/memes/steamed-hams [16] Once I beat magic the gathering hall of famer Shuhei Nakamura in a Grand Prix with a timely remand [17] The first Endolphins release was called North of Misery as a nod to their being in Iowa [18] In 2015 I toured with Endolphins and had two amazing mornings in St Louis, s/o to KPAX and calcifer [19] Sometimes you meet someone who forever changes the way you think about things like water, and then you drown in thoughts never actually able to grasp anything completely again [20] im native as fuck http://www.corteidh.or.cr/tablas/24777.pdf [21] Artist Diego Rivera vs Banksy [22] Kanye West's ego messiah and eponymous album [23] giant robot anime trope for example: neon genesis evangelion, flcl, gundam... [24] Animism but with Anime https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Animism [25] Rhino’s are near extinct everywhere https://www.savetherhino.org/rhino_info/rhino_population_figures [26] Slang for giving a person with a vagina multiple orgasms [27] Detroit Tigers skipper Brad Ausmus [28] James Hardin is a professional basketball Superstar [29] Comic book protagonist Batman [30] Price you get for selling an item new (retail) vs used (resale) [31] A certain person who since i have met has inspired most of my creative endeavors [32] See directly above [33] in a way that gives pleasure through beauty [34] biases [35] Comic book character Galactus, Eater of Worlds https://marvel.com/universe/Galactus [36] 1999 science fiction film The Matrix [37] 2010 video game Fallout: New Vegas [38] My favorite Star Trek trope [39] My favorite Matthew McConaughey film [40] See note #5 [41] In american football a quarterback will notice something about the defense and change the play at the line of scrimmage, this is called an audible [42] These are hearthstone cards [43] Snorlax is a very large and heavy pokemon that can only be moved by playing a special flute [44] Vault-tec assisted targeting system in Fallout video game franchise, the more skill points one has the more they can do in combat before an enemy reacts [45] I have been a pillar of the diy community in lansing michigan for 20 years [46] So Long Naota/Collective see note #8 [47] Dr Seuss character who is the protector of nature [48] The Rorschach test is a psychological test in which subjects' perceptions of inkblots are recorded and then analyzed using psychological interpretation, complex algorithms, or both. [49] Since Europeans have arrived on the shores of North and South America they have brought only misery and genocide [50] The second law of thermodynamics requires that, in general, the total entropy of any system can't decrease other than by increasing the entropy of some other system. Hence, in a system isolated from its environment, the entropy of that system tends not to decrease. [51] Drinking is a mostly self destructive behavior for myself and I tend to only do it when i wish to self harm [52] Episode 3 of the 1997 anime Beserk [53] Fuck borders fuck walls freedom is not possible when they exist [54] 1986 film Short Circuit about a robot that gains sentience and learns of death the term for which is dissassemble [55] Professor Xavier from the X-Men comics who runs a school for Mutants [56] 2009 Dutch body horror film Human Centipede tells the story of people sewn mouth to ass [57] Analingus [58] The Mountain Goats frontman John Darnielle or JD aka thrashkitten member of the sooper swag project [59] GOAT (Greatest Of All Time) is a term used in hip hop to talk about the best rappers ever [60] A billy is a male goat [61] #swag is a song by rapper GMCFOSHO who is a friend of mine [62] Jimmy Swaggert was a televangelist who was defrocked for multiple prostitution scandals [63] Chutes and Ladders is a metaphor for life. As such, it is arguably the most philosophical of all children's board games. Based on the ancient Indian game Snakes and Ladders. The historic version had root in morality lessons, where a player's progression up the board represented a life journey complicated by virtues (ladders) and vices (snakes). [64] Banger is a term for a particularly moving composition [65] The Yangtze is the longest river in Asia and the third-longest in the world. The river is the longest in the world to flow entirely within one country. [66] A venomous snake that lives in europe and east asia, also a nod to the lyric earlier about chutes and ladders (snakes and ladders) [67] “Some have criticised the "obviousness" of Banksy's work, and accused it of being "anarchy-lite" geared towards a middle class "hipster" audience.” [68] A slogan used to silence the #blacklivesmatter movement [69] Donald Trump [70] 1998 Arcade game Bad Dudes vs Dragon Ninja later ported to the Nintendo Entertainment System known widely for its intro cut scene in which the protagonists are asked if they are bad enough dudes to save the president [71] Poppy tea is any herbal tea infusion brewed from poppy straw or seeds of several species of poppy. For the purpose of the tea, dried pods are more commonly used than the pods of the live flower. The walls of the dried pods contain opiate alkaloids, primarily consisting of morphine. [72] I am non-binary and use they/them pronouns [73] 1993 Western Tombstone starring kurt russel and val kilmer [74] Very cheap frozen pizzas of dubious quality [75] Nietzsche claimed the death of God would eventually lead to the loss of any universal perspective on things, and along with it any coherent sense of objective truth [76] Nietzsche once said: “Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become a monster... for when you gaze long into the abyss. The abyss gazes also into you.” [77] Nietzsche also said: “All great things must first wear terrifying and monstrous masks in order to inscribe themselves on the hearts of humanity.” [78] 2015 Anime and Manga One Punch Man’s shout out to Neon Genesis Evangelion describing a monster that is a threat to multiple cities [79] 1992 Arcade Fighing game Mortal Combat’s main villain who stole people's souls [80] Neil Young's sleeper Weight of The World from his amazing foray into new wave on his criminally unheralded album Landing on Water [81] I visited colorado for the first time on tour with Endolphins and tho enjoyable it was mostly mountains and urban sprawl and legal weed [82] The 2016 battle for Lord Stanley’s cup between NHL’s Pittsburgh Penguins and [83] Chappell show sketch about Dylon who thought he was the GOAT because “dylon spit hot fire” [84] Battlestar Galactica plot twist [85]Kuru is a very rare, incurable neurodegenerative disorder that was prevalent among the Fore people of Papua New Guinea. Kuru is caused by the transmission of abnormally folded prion proteins, which leads to symptoms such as tremors, loss of coordination, and neurodegeneration. Most people who develop it are cannibals [86] The quantum physics theory of time travel [87] Acids are corrosive and bases are caustic [88] God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has bled to death under our knives: who will wipe this blood off us? What water is there for us to clean ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall we have to invent? Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us? Must we ourselves not become gods simply to appear worthy of it? — Nietzsche, The Gay Science, Section 125,
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100 questions
100 Questions
1. Are you young at heart, or an old soul? middle
2. What makes someone a best friend? Funny, caring, someone who makes you happy and good taste in things
3. What Christmas (or Hanukkah) present do you remember the most? Xbox 360
4. Tell me about a movie/song/tv show/play/book that has changed your life. . Ghostbusters(2016) and Scream tv cause they have shown me how fuckin gay as fuck i am
5. Name one physical feature that you like about yourself, and one you dislike. Eyes and weight
6. Would you like to reconnect with any friends you’ve lost contact with? yes
7. What’s more important in a relationship: physical attraction or emotional connection? . emotional
8. Name a movie that you knew would be terrible just from reading the title. Justin Bieber : Never Say Never
9. What holiday do you most look forward to? . Halloween
10. How is the relationship between you and your parents? My dad can be a dick and unsupportive but he tries
11. You’ve got the TV on, but you’re not really watching. What channel is the TV on? Sports
12. Name a song that never fails to make you happy. Debarge -Rhythm of the night (Im trash )
13. You know at least one person named Michael. Tell me about him. Curly haired and knew him in year 8
14. Have you ever read the “missed connections” on Craigslist? Have you ever posted one, or wanted to? ???
15. If you could pick anywhere to live the rest of your life, where would it be? JAPAN
16. Can money buy happiness? Nope but it can buy food and does that count
17. Do you drink? Smoke? Do drugsWhy, or why not? nope because 420 no blaze it
18. Is there anyone close to you that you know you can’t trust? You don’t have to give names. . Yes
19. Where was your favorite place to go when you were a little kid? BREWSTER FUCKIN BEARS
20. Have you ever spent a night in the hospital? . nearly
21. Do you enjoy being with only one or two friends, or with a large group of people? one or two
22. Do you like the type of music your parents listen to? Do your parents like the type of music you listen to? meh and nope
23. Have you ever been bullied? Yes
24. If you could only eat one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be? chicken
25. If your partner wanted to wait until marriage before having sex, would you stay in that relationship? yes
26. Do you believe in a god? nope tbh
27. Of all the social networks in the world, why use Tumblr? because its fun as shit
28. What’s your favorite Tumblr tag to track? #HOLTZMANN
29. Would you call yourself/your family “middle class?” Mehhh
30. Name a TV series you didn’t enjoy until after it ended. Telletubbies, that shit scared me
31. Have you ever bought a product from an infomercial? nope
32. If you could give up your car and never have to drive again, would you? nah
33. If you go back to one point in time to give advice to yourself, when would you go and what would you say? back to the end of 2015 and tell myself to not run into that wall
34. What’s your “quirkiest” habit? a few
35. What is “normal?” Are you normal? nope lmao
36. Someone close to you is dying. You have the choice to let this person live for 10 more years, but if you do, you cause the death of 10 strangers. You don’t have to see them die. Do you take the offer? Yes because I cant afford to lose another family member, plus those 10 people could be evil and plus many people are dying in a second anyway
37. What is one thing you could never forgive? A person
38. Would you rather be in a relationship after the honeymoon period ends, or be single? relationship
39. Is it possible for guys and girls to be just friends? yes
40. Where do you and your friends go to hang out? i stay at home alone so lmao
41. Write the first paragraph of your obituary. This person was in love with many things and the poor bastard could never get a date rip
42. What is the best TV theme song ever? HERE I AM ONCE AGAIN FEELING LOST BUT NOW AND THEN I BREATHE IT IN TO LET IT GO AND YOU DONT KNOW WHERE YOU ARE NOW
43. When you were young, what would you dream you would be when you grew up? A juggler
44. When you’re alone in your own home, do you walk around naked? fuck no
45. What gets you out of bed in the morning? food
46. Do you want to have more friends than you have right now? no
47. What part of the past year sticks out in your mind? February
48. You win a scratch-off lottery game that gives you $2000 a week (after taxes) for the rest of your life. Do you keep your job? yes EXTRA MONEY BOIISS
49. Could you be in a long-distance relationship? If you’re in one, what makes yours work? I think so
50. What’s the best route to your heart? . kindness
51. Have you ever met someone through the internet, then met them in real life?. No unfortunately
52. What is your favorite sport? ping pong ;lol
53. What has been troubling you lately? . my problems ahahah
54. Did you enjoy your high school prom? not been yet
55. What do you use more often: your intuition or logical reasoning? logical
56. Do you know what makes you happy? Ahemm..... kate mckinnon and bex taylor-klaus
57. Tell me about the last book you read. SERIAL KILLERS
58. What is the nicest compliment you’ve ever been given? hair looks nice
59. Who was your first crush? Either Misty from Pokemon or the blonde cheetah girl
60. Do you believe that there is life on other planets? probso
61. Predict what your life will look like a year from now. dissapointing
62. Often, people will ask how your last relationship ended. I want to know how it began. lmao ive never been in one
63. Where is your favorite place to go out and eat? mcdonaaaaaaaaaaaaalds
64. What is something you want to change about your current situation? Singleness lmao
65. Early bird or night owl? night owl m8
66. Are there any childhood possessions you still hold on to? idk
67. Give me an unpopular opinion you have. . i dont like naudrey
68. What was the last song that was stuck in your head? Blue Ocean Floor - Justin Timberlake
69. Where do you live? YORKSHIRE
70. Do you believe in giving kids medals and trophies for participation? Mhm
71. What was the longest car ride you’ve ever taken? to bognor reigis
72. Have you ever taken part in a protest? not yet
73. Would you ever use an online dating service? merh
74. What is your ethnic heritage? Atheist
75. Describe a person that inspires you. Many people
76. If you earn minimum wage doing what you love, would you? Sure
77. Do you believe in luck? meh
78. Describe the last time you were very angry at someone. When they said I dont resemble Pidge smh
79. Do you want to live until you’re 100? kinda
80. Do people change? If so, how do you keep a relationship together when both of you start to change? no idea
81. Have you ever risked a friendship by telling someone you liked them? yes
82. Would you rather be alone doing something you enjoy, or doing something you don’t like with your best friends? enjoy
83. Do you practice what you preach? nope
84. If you take precautions to stay safe, do you ultimately act more recklessly? yes
85. What do you value more in a significant other: Attractiveness or intelligence? .intelligence
86. Are you hard-headed? idk
87. Have you ever laughed uncontrollably when it was socially inappropriate? yup
88. When have you felt most alive? when i was born
89. Would you prefer to live? A city? The suburbs? The countryside? The mountains? mountains
90. Do you often skip breakfast? yes
91. How do you know what true love is? tbh no
92. Would you want to know the exact date and time you were going to die? no
93. Where is “home” for you? my room
94. What song best describes your life right now? any depressing one lmao
95. Do you want to be perfect? What have you never tried, but would really like to someday? nope
96. What’s holding you back? bed
97. How do you express your creativity? . no idea
98. Describe your neighborhood. smells of weed and cow shit
99. Name something you only liked because it was popular. Call of duty
100. Give me the story of your life in six words. Single, obsessing, tubby, sad, boring, gay
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hi,hey. i’ve had a tumblr for quite awhile at thispoint. and at a time i wanted to get all popular and have a following and be noticed. but i quickly gotover that. now im20. im 20 fuckng years old. im 20 and i feel like im 14 and trapped in my head. like most 14 year olds i was sad all the damn time, like depressed but like okay . like clearly not okay but i was “handling it” like i didnt tell anybody. and that was freshman year right so like 2014i was 14 ish. and so highschool. 4 years . 4 years of being sad. struggling. but like i liked it. i hated it but i never did anything about it? idk no need to beat myself up for that. i just i was okay and then my best friend was in love with my and i wasnt and that fucked me up, fucked us both up for sure. not to mention my friend group kinda like belittled me and always attacked what i said and people always pointed out how weird i was and lots of other things and i just like lost my spark. 8th grade was amazing i felt on top of the world i didnt let any thing people said get to me . i had an amazing friend and we had so much fun all the damn time (we are still friends thank god <3 ) but highschool like killed me, i grew quiet by sophomore year when we both switched schools together, i traveled for the second half and she went back .at that point i was talking to this guy, and as far as horrible people go he makes the cut. but i let him crush me to bits from the inside out. so we get to junior year and i must be completey fucked up at this point because i dont remember it at all. i spent contless wasted moments texting, snapchating and practically obsessing over a fucking psycho ass hole. i listened to music 24/7 and every time i hung out with my friends i felt like i didnt really fit. like i belonged to a different group of people that i never got the chance to meet. i was in theater in highschool and that was a horrible experience. and senior year i dont remember well either. then the past two years ive been at community college and still depresed and anxious . i cant even walk across campus without fear of having to talk to someone even if i knew them its just so uncomfortable. and in classs i was bored out of my mind . zero concentration. not to mention trying to study?? to sit down and write a paper?? and when i got myself to research things i couldnt hold in any information past my eyes for more than a second. id try to work and id just cry. id completely break down. id write and rewrite and try to read it over and it never made any sense to me. i just couldnt . the second year i ended up giving up finals week because i thought i just couldnt do it which looking back was so stupid because i probably would havefucking passed at the very least. and so this last semester i dropped two of the three classses and bearly passed the one i stayed it.
i had a brief moment of bliss when i started hanging out with an old friend who is now my boyfriend. it was so nice at first like getting to know him and hanging out with his roomates it was all very fun for those few months and i was working at olive garden and then came new yearas and i quite olive garden and practically moved in w my borfiend whos crashing at his parents . and so here iam now. the joy i felt getting to know him , all that new fuzzy feeling . it faded. it was no longer enough to destract form my painful insides. and ive been doing so bad . i was on a birthcontrol that seriously fucked my head up i was crying on the daily . and i switched to one that doesnt do that but my original depression anxiety is back and i dont know if its always been this bad or it i am just more grown and more wise, if i am just now more aware of how un normal the way i feel is. and im just so fucking sick and tired of this .
i am thnkfully not suicidal. i made a point to myself ,when i was first feeling depressed and tried some mild self harm, that killing myself wasnt an option and hurting myself was stupid and woiuld only cause more problems and make it harder to hid so i dont do that, even if sometimes i want to beat myself up. its not my fault . im just so sad that this is my life. oh man i just started crying . i told my doctor yesterday and i have a n apointment with a councilor tomorrow. im scared i dont want to cry in front of them, and i know ill break down at the first mention. anyway. im probably going to go on antidepressants and im kinda scared of the side effects or that it wont work.
plus im trying to move and well any of you whove moved out on there own with no help can vouch for how stressful that is, plus all this anxiety and depression on top of that you can imagine how shitty i feel lately, maybe.
so this wasnt cheerful or insparational i just needed to pu this out here. im not going to fix the spelling errors or grammer becuase it doesnt matter. wish me luck. lets hope i can get to a point of such happiness that it makes up for the past 6 years .
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