#if I still knew the people who did that to me I’d say far worse actually
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Asking because I’m extremely curious about this, how did MonProm’s writing get different over time? I remember you saying that the lore and characters feel different, and that it's missing sincere character interactions, too. I know almost nothing about the lore and I’ve only seen a few people mention the characters, so I’d be interested in a rundown of what aspects you think got worse in the series
I wouldn’t mind a very long response since I’m not that active in the fandom, I need to catch up on what happened
sorry for taking so long to answer this! i kinda waffled on it for a long bit, mainly because i started doubting myself again, and whether or not this was me simply overreacting or being tinted by nostalgia or simply being extremely picky and choosy in what i like (the last of which is true, i seldom get into fandoms at all for this reason and stay away from most popular media, but i wasn't sure if it applied here). i've posted about it already, but i'm in the middle of a psychotic episode where i can't feel a lot of pleasure to begin with + most things i do experience ending up solidly in the "very bad" category, so as you can imagine, i really didn't want to mislead and check that i was actually in objective reality.
as it is, this is also when a lot more screenshots started to be posted in the monster prom tag, and that helped me bridge the gap back into returning to the games themselves and feel like i was making a more accurate judgement. if you're one of those people who have been posting screenshots, i sincerely thank you, and i appreciated seeing you in the tag greatly.
for those not in the know — i've been in the monster prom fandom since it first released, prior to even the first additional ending to be added (the "Punch the sun" ending, and i recall the minor fandom drama that happened at that time due to it). my impression of monster prom is very much influenced by this, as what got me into the first game was the fact that the characters genuinely seemed to care for each other and were friends with each other (not merely tolerating each other's presences nor dressing it up, they sincerely thought of each other as friends and were open about that fact), on top of the wide variety of small details and statements that, if taken at face value, could create compounding complexity in the lives of each and every character and had wider implications for their lives.
no, they were not necessarily explored nor even necessarily "real", with so many conflicting events and statements, but i liked this too, because it meant a wider flexibility in what you could imagine, helping to create a more tailored experience for everyone who thought about these characters. this was what i liked about the early fandom too. what was baseline "canon" was so vague and minimal that you could have wildly different interpretations of the same characters' histories and relationships with each other. you would have radically different perspectives on what the world itself looked like, what it was like, that there wasn't really any wrong answers so long as their personalities remained the same. this is where you got the old headcanon of polly and liam being childhood friends who knew each other as humans, or that the world of monster prom was post-apocalypse where humanity itself had gone extinct or only existed in tiny pockets, or my personal headcanon that both monster and human society existed right next to each other and had minimal crossover for petty cultural reasons. this was also prior zoe-as-ro, and there were wildly different interpretations of zoe's personality, with most going for a far more disquieting creepy-cute than the deep nerd we got.
this is why you get stuff like the timeloop theory, where everyone is repeating the same weeks leading up to prom over and over, and are perhaps vaguely aware of it but broadly unconcerned. this is also why it felt like the joke that, the characters were still in high school but were all fully legal adults with most in their 20's, best landed, because it was absurd and strange and didn't quite make sense, but the world itself was inherently absurd and semi-malleable to begin with. realistically, i felt like everyone understood it was making fun of the trope of having adults play teenagers in american sitcoms and wildly casting outside the age range, but for more in-universe explanations it wasn't any different from the way that you would have a large, dramatic ending in which everything changed, but then you'd restart and everyone would be right back at the beginning with nothing different, or even having conflicting events in the same run. it was a dream-logic that fit with the tropes and, thus, diagetically made sense.
to be clear, i don't mind canon having a set, well, canon on which it refers back to itself. i don't mind expanding that or including more things which are set in stone. but there was a perceivable shift in how the games handled this over time, becoming a lot more... bitter, it felt, towards all of these different branching ideas and concepts that, yeah, the people making them knew wouldn't necessarily be "canon" because "canon" already liked to contradict itself so much. most people weren't even sold on any one idea, and there was a much greater sense of enjoying and appreciating all the varying ideas people would come up with even if you personally didn't share them. making the characters be out of character was the real crime, because then it didn't diagetically make sense in the same way, didn't wholly fit.
(again, this is not to say fanon didn't happen and characters weren't smoothed down into a simplified personality that fit these varying fan-interpretations instead of the game itself. certainly damien love/lust was just as bad as it had ever been, and everyone loved to mangle his character into a more stereotypical "bad boy with a heart of hold" all the time. but it certainly felt less set-in-stone about it than it does now, with any deviation from the norm being considered strange and odd and even broadly shunned from the wider fandom.)
all of this is setup for establishing what the writing, lore, and characters felt like in the earlier days. the characters were the strongest part, with their relationships to each other being equally as important. the lore played it fast and loose and was far less interested in setting anything in concrete because that wasn't the important part. the lore wasn't the important part, which was what made it all the more intoxicating to think about, all the more fun to play with.
montrip is easily the biggest offender when it comes to setting everything in all-or-nothing terms and demanding absolutism from the world. broadly i blame the hitchhiker conversations for the worst of it, but i think ultimately the way they handled the entire premise of the game is where this problem stems from. it's not really an exploration in the same sense that you might explore the first game, discovering different perspectives and different people with different relationships to each other. it's an exploration in the sense of a sequel that over-explains the monster, that takes the most boring option out of all those that were possible and floating around and settles on something that was blatant, obvious, typically rejected not because of how novel it is but how trite and par for the course it is in the rest of the genre.
yeah, okay. humans know nothing about monsters and there's a "monster dimension" that exists separately from the human dimension. there's no crossover between the two of them. of course there's a big grand-scale fight between the eldritch powers that zoe used to be a part of, from which not only are slayers the main organization against them, but also the merkingdom has some horse in this race too. it's an urge to make things so universal in explaining them, in revealing connecting threads which unite everything that's ever happened in here, that makes the worldbuilding and lore immediately much more boring than it ever was before.
and it didn't have to be this way! nothing in the first game contradicts any of this too explicitly (see the above, the first game loves to contradict itself), and i would even be happy if this was basically canon but never stated or confirmed to be the big overarching everything going on underneath it all. i believe you should probably know these things about any world that you create and have them in the back of your mind. the difference is that you can know these things and keep them in mind, even focusing on things where its very relevant, and still not reveal them. this is why you have lore bibles, after all. every horror writer knows exactly how their monster works and the full underlying reason for everything that happens, but that doesn't mean the audience will see it or possess this same information too, and leaving it intentionally obscure will make far better stories.
which, this is bad enough, but it wouldn't be the breaking point for me if this was all there was.
but the worst thing of all has to be the slow decay of the very same characters that sold me on this world, this lore, this game in the first place. monster prom is nothing without the characters in it. it's a dating sim, it has nothing but characters to get you to play, and liking these characters are the entire reason anyone would pick up monster prom in the first place.
and the first game pulls this off extremely well. it's all in the tagline: be your worst self. they are, indeed, all terrible people. yes, even that character that you just thought of right now. they all have points in the game where they commit atrocities, where they kill or hurt people, where they do inexcusable things that could not be ignored in a more serious setting.
but that's the point. i think there's something very powerful in creating a character who not only do you love and love their personality and the way they interact with the world, but who also are inapologetically terrible, and to have the humor and the charisma be so good that you don't get bogged down in the "this is awful". likewise, it never feels the urge to really go out of its way to justify what's going on. this is not to say theres no discussion of if someone "deserved it", but usually there's still the sense that the joke is on them, that this is still an extreme reaction specifically for comedy and not necessarily something that can be justified. you can have damien set leonard on fire and have it feel earned, without prompting the needed reaction of what it's actually like to watch someone burn to death.
this is what sets the prank masterz ending apart from the rest of the game, and really establishes it as the first real "bad ending". because nothing that you do or happens in the prank masterz ending is any different from anything else that happens in any other run. you summon evil beings from other dimensions as a throwaway gag on how visiting one location raises your stats. you kill other people and damn them to terrible fates. you watch as body horror happens. the only difference is that, in the prank masterz ending, the laugh track doesn't play.
the rest of the game and the writing echoes this philosophy, this careful interplay of tropes that keeps everything tongue in cheek and yet sincere enough to make sure emotional beats still land when they're needed. the characters feel true to themselves and their own emotions, even when the world is extreme and excessive, when everything else runs on comedy logic.
this is also what i noticed failing first as time went on.
like i said, fanon has always existed and there's always been very specific ideas as to what characters are like in the same way fanon always flattens down characters into the same tropes over and over. scott is stupid and innocent and doesn't know what sex is. damien is violent and hot and too cool for anyone else. miranda is the idiot girl character. repeat over and over and over until you get sick of it.
but it's been an issue as time has crept on that canon has started to approach fanon and began to merge with it. now, scott is so innocent that he can't even curse. polly starts being mean to her friends and saying things that would be very hurtful to hear. the merkingdom isn't really super evil and fucked up, it's just miranda that's like that. they become simpler, easier to digest, streamlined for social media posts and mass-sharing. they become less and less subversions of existing tropes and moreso just another example of them, something else to add to the collection, not their own individual stories.
even further from this, what more complex traits they had are now stated and not shown. polly is stated to be smart and clever in a way that her party girl persona doesn't imply and to be sincerely rather down to earth with the people she cares about, but we seldom ever see this anymore unless its the game specifically trying to make a point about it, in which case it won't let her do anything that implies cleverness and moreso will just outline it in the narration. vera is stated to care for people in a very genuine and heartfelt way, but seldom will get a chance to do so, and every opportunity for her to do so to their faces is missed while she will just outright state it later. it does not feel consistent, it does not feel like any of these are intended reads of their actions. it feels like the devs have something they want to do but no idea on how to actually do so. and forget it if you want these traits to manifest in small ways that show up in unrelated moments and scenes.
the dialogue becomes harder and harder to tell between each speaker, if you are just looking at what's said and not at the pictures attached to it. the characters' distinct voices have been eroded away, so that they speak more and more like each other, relaying the same terms and ideas in the same words. perspective becomes a suggestion, instead of a must.
this is something that started back in monster camp too, as all of the endings in that game felt ultimately the same as every other ending. it's very hard to place or define the full reason why, why there feels like there's no emotional stakes nor investment, why everything feels moreso like selecting different coats of paint and trying to find all the different ending pictures rather than being interested in exploring the characters as characters.
stranger yet, the series that started with the tagline of "be your worst self" has experienced a kind of... softening, for lack of a better word? what i mentioned about being able to handle the balance between terrible people who do terrible things and the light tone of the game starts to change, as abruptly the same characters who were down with violent murder in the first game start to lose their nerve, acting more and more on more typical morality. it's one of those things that feels like it's starting to damage the tone, as abruptly it's not as absurd as it used to be, demands less suspension of disbelief which could buffer and support the rest of the setting on it. there's even a part in one of the endings in montrip which involves current-polly and current-scott looking back on their monprom selves and reacting in horror at how violent and careless their pranks are, in a way that fundamentally felt like it was undercutting and disparaging all the things that felt fun and made monprom what it was.
which is odd, really, because more and more i feel like the characters in these games like each other less and less. the friendships and genuine enjoyment of each others company that brought me to this game in the first place has gone. now they don't mention each other as much, don't care for each other's feelings and reactions as much, aren't as willing to support each other. they are more and more found on their own, relied on their own, seem to seek out contact and interaction with their own friends less and less. it feels like they're all separating out into their own worlds, but also feels like they wouldn't willingly want to interact with each other if they weren't already forced together by some other outside contrivance.
if anything, i'd compare it to every other dating sim out there, where you, the player, are the most important person in these characters' lives, and they only feel ambivalent or antagonistic towards every other character. which, again, is not why i picked up monster prom or why i liked it so much in the first place.
and it's because of this that it feels like the current state of the series has to focus on its increasingly weak worldbuilding and lore, trying to form a more serious foundation without character relationships being so tightly bound together, without the characters themselves being more developed and rich, without an aspect of absurd humor to rely on.
more and more i've noticed monprom has to rely on referencing other series to make itself funny and create humor, which, again, it's always done. it was just easier to ignore back then, if you didn't know what was being referenced, because there was always more going on in the exact same scene to bolster it and give context clues as to the setup and punchline at play. it feels like the current games are much more dependent on you knowing pop culture references in order to have any fun with it, and i'm someone who, again, is very picky in what i like or what i'll seek out. i'm not interested in a stream of references about other things that i would much rather be doing than playing through a game that feels like it hates that i like it at all, when i could, again, just be engaging with the thing that takes itself seriously and knows what it wants.
#all the care guide says is 'biomass'#monster prom#asks#vanillabeenflower#this is. so long i am so sorry.#and its still not my entire thoughts because i have so many thoughts#this is an unedited ramble tbh and im very sorry for that#i have more complaints like#how fucking snide and condescending the narration is to its own characters#which it already had but gets even worse in the later games#which is why despite loving aaravi i dont want to play moncamp at all#where a character says they like something or feel something and the narration has to be so. sarcastic about it?#like how i mentioned about how it feels like how its looking down on them as people#instead of whats probably the intended read which is#more jokingly calling them dumb in an affectionate way like how you might do with friends#and ofc theres the whole miranda rant#i hate what theyve done with the merkingdom and i HATE adrien as a concept i wont lie#just. cool. this female character is too stupid to count as a lore character. we obviously need a MALE character to fill in instead#we cant just have miranda talk about this or center any of the other female characters#and how they feel about this and whats going on for them#no we need to make up a new man to talk to instead#im. im still really bitter about it i wont lie.#like i said i could go on and get way more specific about it#i just feel like any and all emotional weight to this has died and the characters are more and more obviously actors on a stage#for your own self gratification rather than their own people living their own lives#this is so bitter and i really shouldnt put this in the main tag#i am so sorry everyone who will see my rant. but my peace must be made.#dont worry im already asking myself if im just making all this shit up myself#what if some of us liked that the characters were so mean to the player and had no qualms about aggressively rejecting us#because it gave some illusion of them being able to make their own choices and decisions in what they wanted
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so funny to see people like “oh uwu poor dweamy tommy was mean to him” like. i don’t give a shit considering the shit he said to tommy when he was a minor. actually i think tommy should get to be way meaner. i think anyone who was sexualised as a teenager by a grown ass adult should be given a gun. that shit fucks you up for life and i know bc it happened to me and i'm still struggling with hypersexuality.
(this isn’t even all of it btw, dream and george were “joking” about having oral sex with tommy like literal minutes after he joined the dsmp and also dream went on a weird tangent about tommy being technically old enough to fuck on one of his mcc streams, this was fucking constant for several months and i know that bc i watched the fucking streams and internalised that it must be okay that adults would send me porn at tommy's age and younger bc they were making such a joke out of sexualising him)
#Tommy is like the one person who should be allowed to do whatever the fuck he wants there actually#along with lani and tubbo#if I still knew the people who did that to me I’d say far worse actually#dream neg#i will post this video a million fucking times btw#bc it needs more exposure#like dude was a creep to kids on camera he can’t disprove that shit and I hate him forever for it#I mean he tried and he just victim blamed the shit out of tommy like a fucking#infinitely less charismatic humbert humbert#i hate him so much#sexualising minors tw
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Until the Final Bullet Pt. 1(Call of Duty)
Pairing: Price x Reader
Word Count: 2020
Warnings: Violence, angst, military men
A/N: Imagine getting stuck in the UK during the apocalypse that would suck
Everyone knew it was coming. Years and years of nonstop war would surely lead to dire outcomes. And that outcome was the apocalypse. What people didn’t know was that the cause was a zombie outbreak. It had to be a zombie outbreak.
You always told yourself if this ever happened, you would swan dive straight off the roof of a building. Who wants to live a life surrounded by rotting flesh monsters? Not you. It was enough that the apocalypse had broken out while you were on vacation, but the fact that it was zombies made matters worse. Much worse.
You crouched in the back of an abandoned supermarket. It had taken you days to make your way over here without attracting any attention. Everything was a complete mess. Fires, overturned vehicles, houses ransacked. It was hard to find supplies and it’s only been two months since the outbreak. You took a can of beans and stabbed into the lid with your knife. It made a hissing noise and juice bubbles from the hole.
Gross.
Back in the good ole USA, you would’ve been in luck. Every food had much more preservatives than anywhere else. You could’ve had your fill to eat. Yet, you were now eating sad British food. Beans. Not even the good baked beans, with little bacon pieces. Cold, wet, and flavorless beans. You used your knife as a spoon and shoveled them into your mouth. At least it was better than nothing.
You didn’t know how much longer of this you could take. You missed having junk food for dinner, you missed being able to walk around with the threat of being bit, and you missed fresh. Fuck, you really missed it. Everything stinks literally. As you ate, you thought of what your plan was. Killing yourself? Raiding all the stores you can, gathering supplies, giving them to a group of people, and then killing yourself? No. If things were better and you had a lover, you could've been all poetic and turned with them. Instead, you were lonely.
You were pulled out of your thoughts as you heard a groaning noise. And then several others. The thought of going out by being eaten by a group of zombies was the least appealing way to die. You made your way silently through the supermarket towards the toy section. You grabbed the loudest looking toy you could before heading outside. There was a small horde of zombies just outside. You counted them, for a total of four. You could have easily killed them, but you didn’t want their rotting guts and blood all over you..
You silently opened the door and slid out. With a quick hand, you turned on the toy that’s glaringly loud. You threw the toy as far as possible. The rotting creatures immediately were on high alert and slowly trudged towards the noise. You slowly walked backwards, keeping an eye on them in case they decided to turn around. After going a sizable distance, you turned to escape. Hands grabbed your shoulders.
“Hey there, lass.”
Your immediate reaction was to clock the stranger right in the face. But he was obviously way stronger than you. He grabbed your fist and squeezed it tightly. Your eyes narrowed. The man was tall, with a faux hawk. He had a goofy smile that was a start contrast to his tactical gear that he wore. There was a patch on his vest, Military.
“Let me go.”
“Now, now.” He clicked his tongue, releasing your fist. “I won’t hurt you.”
“That’s what everyone says.” You pushed past him. “Now if you excuse me, I’d like to be away from the horde of zombies before the toy shuts off.”
You started to walk away. He followed, Of course he did. Why wouldn’t he? You try to walk fast to keep your distance, but it was no use. He had on that same goofy smile.
You sighed. “Why are you still following me?”
“Because that was a good trick you used. Using toys to lure the zombies away. How did you come up with it?”
“I didn't. I saw it in an anime.”
“Oh.”
“Why are you following me?”
The man grinned, the lilt of his accent heavy. “I’m not. I just happen to be going in the same place.”
You got even more suspicious. You had to run into your fair share of people that seemed friendly, but would end up robbing you blind. Of course, you’ve seen enough zombie movies and played enough games to know better. Your hand rested on your knife holster. You gripped the handle, ready to strike.
“My name is Soap, by the way.”
“Really?” You raised an eyebrow and he nodded. You scoffed. “Ironice. You smell like ass.”
“Not worse than the zombies though, right?”
“No comment. Now stay away.”
You kept walking. The man, Soap, didn’t listen to you. You didn’t know where you were going, exactly, but you knew you didn't want it to be around this man. So you kept walking through the empty streets, hoping that he took the hint and left. But he didn’t. He also wouldn’t stop yapping about some random shit that you had no interest in. Ten minutes later, your knife was pressed against his neck.
“Stop following me or I’ll kill you.”
“That won’t be necessary.” A deeper, much darker voice said from behind you. You could feel the tip of a gun barrel now pressed against the back of your head. You closed your eyes and slowly lowered the knife. You turned to see the man. This guy was even bigger. The clothes he wore were similar to that of Soap’s. He wore a skull mask, making him even more intimidating than the other guy. There was no way you could take them. In a fight, of course.
“Using a gun? Really?”
The skull face shrugged. “I don’t see any zombies around here.”
“Yeah, that’s what they all say. Then they’re eaten.”
Soap laughed. “You’re a pessimistic one, aren't you?”
I just rolled my eyes. “Whatever. I won’t cause trouble , so let me leave.”
“No can do, sweetheart.” Skull face replied. He placed the gun back in its holster. “You shouldn’t be traveling around.”
“Ghost is right.” Soap said, crossing his arms.
Great. Two big and buff guys won’t let you leave. This is just peachy. You hated being a group, but you hated military men even more. They were nothing but disgusting and violent assholes that are no longer barred by the law. Bad news. But what was pissing you off even more was the fact that they assumed you couldn’t take care of yourself. Which you totally could.
“I’m fine on my own.”
Ghost eyed you. “With as frail as you look?”
“I hate British food.”
“Can you even use anything other than a knife?”
“I can use a bow or crossbow.”
“No guns?” Soap asked.
You shook your head. “Guns are too loud. Plus it’s hard to find bullets.”
“Then come with us. We’ll help.” Ghost said. “We have a whole entire base filled with food,water, and weapons.”
“No. I don’t trust the military.”
“Special forces, lass. We’re special forces.”
“Doesn’t make a difference. Goodbye.”
They didn’t try to stop you. Instead, they followed. If you were stronger, you would have killed them on the spot. But alas, you were just a normal citizen. Kind of. Your eyes scanned the terrain as you walked. There were always at least one or two zombies around. And as if on cue, one appeared hobbling down the street.
“I got it.” Soap said, taking out his gun.
“Don’t-“
It was too late. Soap shot the zombie straight in the head. The sound was loud and rang out in the empty streets. That’s when the rest of the horde showed up. There must have been ten of them, if not more. You facepalmed, angrily turning to face the two military men.
“Are you guys idiots?”
“Watch it.” Ghost growled. “This isn’t the time to insult us.”
Soap frowned. “It seemed clear enough.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s how it always is. If there’s one zombie, always assume here’s more. I thought the special forces were supposed to be smart.”
Instead of listening to what they have to say, you quickly ran ahead, looking for cover. There was a large walled area ahead. The walls were made of makeshift metal haphazardly welded together. In front of those walls were bushed that you promptly hid yourself in. You stayed completely still as the horde made their way to the noise. This wasn't going to be your problem to deal with. As soon as the horde descended on the two military idiots, you'll make your escape.
A loud boom shook your body. You clamped your hands over your ears and your eyes squeezed shut. Before you could even get your bearings, the noise happened again. More gunshots joined in. It was official. You probably were going to die here because of the trigger happy men around you. You tried to make yourself as small as possible and wait for a moment of silence. If that would ever come.
"Kid."
You kept your hands over your ears, even as the cacophonous shooting stopped. A hand clamped down on your shoulder. The rancid scent of rotting flesh didn't immediately hit your nose, so you knew that this was a human. You slowly opened your eyes and lowered your hands. As you stood up, you saw that Ghost, Soap, and two strangers were staring at you. You cleared your throat awkwardly.
"So… y'all always attract zombies like this?"
Ghost scoffed. "Thanks for running away. Real tough, huh?"
"Okay," You crossed your arms. "It's not my fault you decided to be an idiot and use a gun to kill a zombie."
"Enough." The man with the bucket hat and mustache stepped in front of you, blocking your view of Ghost. "Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?"
His eyes were kind and soft as they traveled over your face. His hands were on your shoulders, giving you a reassuring squeeze. A sense of comfort washed over you. It had been a while since you felt this way. You nodded silently.
He gave you a smile. "Good, good. I'm Captain John Price. You can call me Price."
Your nose scrunched and that comfort morphed into disdain. "And I'm making my leave."
"Aww, c'mon!" Soap whined your name. His lips formed a pout. "We just saved you from a horde of zombies!"
"That you guys attracted! I'm not staying with a bunch of trigger happy military freaks."
"Price…" Ghost warned, his eyes boring into yours. "Do something."
Price waved his hand to calm Ghost down. He then gave you another smile, his eyes crinkling. "Stay with us just for the night, sweetheart. You can have a shower and some food. Then after you're rested, you can make your decision."
You hesitated. You had enough food and you knew how to survive a night out here. But a shower? You looked at the group of men. Maybe while they were asleep you could snag some stuff for yourself and then leave without them ever knowing. You nodded once. Price's smile went to a full on grin filled with sunshine.
"Great. Come this way."
The makeshift wall had a gated entrance just a couple of meters away. Your eyes widened as the group led you into their base. And it was a big base. Trucks, a tank, several buildings, and a long row of tents were spread out before you. People milled about. From soldiers to families, it looked like a whole town. A sinking feeling filled your stomach. You never did well around big groups around this. It always ended up badly.
Your steps slowed down. "Uh… I-I think I changed my mind."
Soap linked his arm around yours. "Don't be scared, lass. We don't bite."
"That's not-"
"You're staying here and that's final." Ghost grumbled, coming up on your other side. They had blocked you in.
"I'm so going to regret this."
#x reader#fanfic#call of duty x reader#cod x reader#call of duty#cod#captain price x reader#price x reader#john price#captain price
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you can have a little revenge, as a treat (Izzy/Lucius)
(tw: references to noncon)
Izzy knew Lucius was tailing him back to his cabin. He didn’t stay so close it was stupid—more like a nervy cat’s way of following than a puppy’s—but he was still as subtle as a cannonball. He wasn’t surprised when there was a knock half-a-minute after he got inside.
“I’d say ‘fuck off,’ but you don’t like listening, do you?”
The door creaked open. “Did you know it was me, or is that just, like, how you greet people?”
“It can be both.”
“Fair.” Lucius slipped in and sat down, like he’d had a real invitation. He gave Izzy a fierce, almost angry look. “I asked Pete to be my matelot.”
He didn’t know what he’d expected this to be about, but it sure as fuck wasn’t this. “And you came to me for congratulations?”
“Uh, no. I can see why that would be weird, if I’d done that. No, I want to—” He pressed his lips together. Turned out that was one last bolstering-up of the dam before he kicked it to pieces. “Stede doesn’t want to listen to what happened to me after Blackbeard pushed me overboard, and he said I shouldn’t tell Pete every dark little detail, either. And he was right. It’s a lot, and I shouldn’t … track filth around. But if I don’t tell someone about it, I’m going to lose my fucking mind. You’re not squeamish, and you won’t cry over me.”
That glare of his, Izzy saw now, had just a hint of desperation to it.
He’d never talked about anything more than he’d had to—swallowed it all down like his fucking toes—but he had, as the whole cursed lot of them knew by now, sicked up enough before to know that it could help. And if you were going to spew, better to do it in private.
“Fine,” Izzy said.
Lucius boggled at him for a moment, like a fish pulled out of the water, and then said, “Right, I expected that to be a lot harder.”
He sat down on the other end of the bed, as far from Izzy as he could get. Crossed his legs and uncrossed them, scowling at his knees like they’d betrayed him. He fixed his gaze somewhere over Izzy’s shoulder.
“I went between a lot of ships, after I got picked up. Wasn’t really by choice, not after the first … first bad one. A good ship—a good ship will let you leave, and you don’t know until it’s too late that if they’ll let you go, you might be … might be better off staying. I should never have left the first berth I got. They only wanted me as a whore, but that’s not so bad, is it? I mean, you’d probably say that’s most of what I did around here anyway.”
His gaze flickered over to Izzy like he expected him to laugh or nod. Izzy didn’t do either: you didn’t fuck about when you could see there was a storm on the horizon.
“Okay. Fine. Be understanding, like that’s not creepy.” He shifted around again, fidgeting like his own skin wasn’t enough to keep together, like he had to hold on to himself. “The other ships were all worse. I thought most pirates were—”
“Like Bonnet?” Izzy said incredulously.
“Like you,” Lucius said. “I thought the worst I’d have to contend with would be a whole ship of Izzy Hands, and I’d just be annoyed and stressed or, fine, dead, but in a—normal way. But you never—you wouldn’t—”
He dug his fingers into his arms. He’d wind up with bruises from it.
“The worst ship was called Dead Man’s Folly. And they had a little dog named Pepper, and they liked having puppet shows in the evenings, and I just fucking need—somebody—to fucking listen.”
Izzy didn’t know the details yet, but the puppet shows were a cursed enough notion for him to tell the outline of it already. Nothing curdled like whimsy; nothing was worse when it turned dark.
He listened. And as Lucius told him all of it, he stowed away a few things in particular.
Dead Man’s Folly. Captain Graves.
***
It took another fortnight—and a through-gritted-teeth request about it to Bonnet, who was so shocked Izzy would ask him for a favor that he gave in at once—but Izzy saw to it that they made one of the Dead Man’s Folly’s regular ports of call.
“I never had the impression you were all that enamored of shore leave,” Bonnet said, watching as Izzy scanned the ships crowded into the bay. “Care to share your holiday plans?”
Izzy’s lips flexed, hard, as he found the flag he was looking for. “Not responsible for what you don’t know about,” he said. “Better to leave it.”
“If you’re looking for trouble, you ought to have company!”
“Not for this,” Izzy said. “You’d approve, at least in theory, but you won’t want to see it. It won’t be very … gentlemanly.”
Bonnet looked crestfallen, but he said, “Well, if that’s what you think, I suppose I agree. I—trust you, Izzy. God, never thought I’d be saying that.”
“It’s weird, isn’t it?” Izzy said.
“It is a bit weird, yeah. Nice, though.”
Almost against his will, Izzy said, “Yeah, it’s nice.” He cleared his throat. “Keep Lucius and Black Pete on the ship, even if everyone else goes to shore for the night. I don’t know, throw them a fucking engagement party.”
Bonnet brightened. “I have been meaning to do that, you know. Of course, you can’t plan a proper celebration in one night, but—”
“Whatever,” Izzy said, putting his foot into the rigging and starting down. It took more presence of mind to do this these days, but it wasn’t so bad once you got used to it. “Just no cake.”
“Yes, I think we all learned our lessons on the cake front. Have no fear! Roach is a pastry virtuoso. There doesn’t exist a confection that he can’t master.”
Perfect. A night of sugar and blood. Captured their lives here pretty well, really.
***
It wasn’t hard to find the Dead Man’s Folly. Ships captained by assholes always made themselves known sooner or later.
Some of Bonnet’s luck must have rubbed off on him, because he got the sweetest of chances: all hands in port for the night, and just Graves and his first mate aboard.
Easiest thing in the world for Izzy to hail them, plain and simple, and get welcomed on. The first mate didn’t even ask him his business, though he found it out in a hurry. Izzy didn’t make a meal out of that one: it was Graves he’d come here for, Graves who had been the rotten core of Lucius’s story.
Graves, who was drinking the night away in his cabin.
He wasn’t completely soused yet, which was good. Izzy wasn’t going to give him a chance to retrieve his sword or pistol—he was here to murder, not raiding or dueling; the usual rules of the profession didn’t apply—but he wanted him sober. He wanted Graves to know what he was paying for.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Curious passerby,” Izzy said. “My ship dropped anchor here, same as yours, and I’d heard so many rumors about the fearsome Captain Graves that I had to come myself to see what was what.”
The fact that Graves didn’t immediately blink at him and ask if he was taking the piss was a marvel and a half. As far as Izzy was concerned, the only pirate worth that kind of slobbery adulation was Edward himself—and Edward had tired of it a long time ago.
“What rumors would those be?” Graves said, hungry for any morsel of a reputation.
“I heard,” Izzy said, “that you picked up a pretty little piece of one-time jetsam a while back.”
Graves earned himself an even slower death by not even being able to fucking remember at first, like he fished bitchy scribes out of the sea every week at least.
“Oh,” Graves said, comprehension finally dawning on him. ��Rat Boy. I wouldn’t go as far as pretty.”
Fucking hell, at this rate, Izzy was going to have to spend most of the fucking year killing this prick.
“Rat Boy. That’s the one.” He gave Graves a smile that would’ve sent a smarter man running. “Heard something about a bit of puppetry too, I think. Sounded … inventive.”
Graves, not content with all previous acts of wanton fucking stupidity, took this compliment at face value too. “Keeps the crew entertained on the slow nights. Everybody loves a good show.”
“Yeah? You come up with that yourself, then?”
Graves spread out his hands. “I’m a great innovator, unrecognized in my time.”
“Oh, I bet recognition’s right on its way,” Izzy said. “Nipping at your heels. You really got your whole hand up his arsehole, then.”
“He squirmed, but in it went,” Graves said, wiggling his fingers.
“You like that, watching him squirm? Wouldn’t go so far as to call him pretty, no, but you liked how he looked with you wrist-deep in his arse and making a show of him? Liked having him catch rats with his teeth? You must have. Liked it so well you didn’t even call him by his right name. Do you know it?”
It was, to Izzy’s great pleasure, finally starting to dawn on Graves that Izzy hadn’t really come here to have a wank to his great ingenuity. He stared at Izzy, the damp whites of his eyes looking like Roach’s poached eggs.
“My first mate is right up on deck—”
“He is. All over the deck, you might say.” Izzy leaned back in his chair. “Now, him I didn’t have much of a conversation with, so he didn’t have a chance to make things worse for himself. Just as dead as you’re going to be, though. Had it coming too, because a first mate’s responsible for everything that happens on his ship.”
Graves stared up at the ceiling, like blood was going to start dripping down right on cue. Izzy hoped he had a vivid picture of what all over the deck could mean. He gave Graves time to think about it. Then some more time to think about how much worse Izzy might do to the man who’d just been running his mouth about being the brains behind the human fucking puppet.
“I’ll make you a deal,” Izzy said, drawing his sword and laying it across his knees. “If you can come up with his name, I won’t cram a fat bilge rat down your sorry throat until you choke on it. I don’t really want to go looking for one anyway. This is going to take enough time as it is.”
Graves was sputtering now, like he was trying to save Izzy the rat-finding trouble by choking on his own spit first. “But he—he—”
“Made it back to his own ship.”
“He couldn’t have,” Graves insisted. “He—he said his captain there threw him overboard!”
“I’m not his fucking captain,” Izzy said. “Come up with that name yet?”
Graves’s pulse was fluttering in his throat, rapid as a lady’s fan. Thinking so hard beads of sweat were popping out on his brow: the great innovator at work.
“J—John.”
“Reasonable gamble,” Izzy allowed. “Thing is—it’s not right by even a letter.”
He ran Graves through, pinning him to his fancy chair; rapped the hilt with two fingers and set it to quivering in Graves’s belly. The screams were easy enough to ignore. Just part of the mess, like the blood.
He’d intended to make Lucius Spriggs the last thing Graves ever heard, but it seemed like Lucius’s name deserved better than being dragged back into this room with all its filth. Stupid thought, but there it was.
Instead, he said, “S’pose it doesn’t matter. Saw a dead rat right outside—seems a shame to waste it.” He hadn’t, but he figured Graves deserved to die with that thought in his head. And one more for good measure: “I’m not much for imagination; save that for the captains of the world. But I do work out how to make the fucking plans happen, even yours. The way I see it, all I have to do is cut your hand off—” He tapped a dagger blade against each of Graves’s wrists. “And then I can shove it up your arse. Put on a puppet show just the way you like.”
“You can’t do this,” Graves said. Blood was already hitting his lips as he whined, which meant he was dying faster than Izzy would like, and the bastard was too fucking dimwitted to know it.
Aided in the fuckery, at least.
“Oh, you’ll squirm, but in it’ll go,” Izzy told him. “You said as much yourself. It’ll be slick enough with your own blood, that ought to make it easier.”
He let Graves wriggle and bleed for another few minutes, but there wasn’t any satisfaction to it once the man was well and truly out of his head. Nothing to be gained by hurting a dumb animal. Izzy cut his throat to finish him off.
He stood there a while, breathing in the scent of blood. (And shit. He bet Bonnet’s tales of piracy never talked about how often dying men shit themselves.) He hadn’t paid Graves back for even what the fucker had done to Lucius, but there was revenge and then there was fucking monstrosity. He’d had enough of the latter to last him a lifetime.
Mutilating a corpse, though—that was run-of-the-mill pirate shit, honestly.
“Not saying he’ll make you the centerpiece of the fucking wedding,” he said to Graves’s body, “because he’s still a bit too soft for it, even after what your lot did to him. Which is almost fucking impressive. But he is, God help me, enough of a pirate to appreciate a token.”
Not the head. You walked through port swinging a man’s severed head like a sack of fucking apples, you wound up having to talk about it. Hand wouldn’t attract nearly as much attention—stray hands were as common around here as the pox—but Lucius wouldn’t want one. Not with where Graves’s had been. Fucking reminder, not a proper keepsake. Foot? He glanced down at his hoof—smiled a bit—and then scoffed. Jesus Christ, if he took Graves’s foot, Twatty would never fucking shut up about how interesting it must be inside Izzy’s head. He’d grow old and die before he heard the end of it.
Ear, he decided. Graves had been thoughtful enough to wear some gaudy emeralds there, might as well make use of it.
He sawed off the left one; it had a bit missing off the top, tapering to a lump of scar tissue, so between that and the fucking jewels, it’d be plain enough who it belonged to.
He spat on Graves’s body, before he went.
***
Frenchie was playing his lute when Izzy got back, and he shot Izzy a shy smile and plucked the first few notes of the tune he’d somehow gotten in his head was Izzy’s favorite. He raised his eyebrows.
Izzy waved him off—don’t change it on my account—and Frenchie drifted back to the other song.
Unbefuckinglievable that he’d somehow wound up with a life where people cared what fucking music he wanted. Fucking smiles and moonlight.
And a man’s ear in his pocket. Couldn’t say he’d ever had that before either, strictly speaking. Not as such.
Sugar and blood, he thought.
He found Lucius tucked up in Black Pete’s arms, listening to the music. Little fucker had always been bold as brass when it came to lazing about, never one to spring into action, but this was a new development, this melting back into his boyfriend’s chest and fucking relaxing more as Izzy came close.
Lucius looked up at him through his eyelashes. “Joining us?”
“Oh, get up,” Izzy said, nudging at him with the toe of his boot. “I’ve got a … matelotage gift for you. Just you, not him.”
“Well, color me intrigued,” Lucius said. He twisted around enough to press a kiss to Black Pete’s lips. “Save my seat.”
“Of course! And if he’s giving you what I think he’s giving you, babe, you’re gonna have to let me know if he put a bow on it first.”
They made it around to a quiet side of the deck—as private as anything ever got, with a ship this unwholesomely chummy—and Lucius flicked his gaze downwards and says, “Does it have a bow on it? I’ve always liked unwrapping presents.”
“For fuck’s sake.” Izzy reached into his pocket and pulled out the handkerchief-swaddled ear. It still felt warm. “Here.”
“I swear,” Lucius murmured, “the number of otherwise lovely gifts I get with blood all over them ….” He unfolded the handkerchief and his breath caught in his throat. He stared down at it. “This is—his.”
Izzy nodded.
“That’s what you did tonight. You went out and cut a man’s ear off for me.”
“Killed him too,” Izzy said. “And the first mate.”
“Killed. You walked onto another pirate ship, killed its officers, and brought me back an ear.” Lucius tugged roughly at the earring, like he was half-tempted to tear through the earlobe and yank it free. “How did you even get away with that alive?”
Izzy shrugged. “They’d given the crew shore leave. Otherwise I would’ve had to settle for just the captain, and it would’ve been trickier. Easy enough as it was.”
Lucius wrapped the handkerchief up again. His fingers were shaking. “And here I had this whole vastly symbolic shark telling me I had to move on.”
“You are moving on,” Izzy said. “Or did you miss where it was a fucking wedding present? You’ve got Pete. You’re not sulking about the ship anymore, letting your whole life fester. You fucking talked it out, like you’re Bonnet Jr. You’ve just got some bastard’s ear now too, little piece for the mantel.”
Lucius took a deep breath and then said, “Don’t stab me, because it will so ruin the moment,” and leaned in fast and pressed his lips to Izzy’s cheek. The touch was light and warm. “This is honestly one of the sweetest things anyone’s ever done for me.”
“Fuck off,” Izzy said, even if it took a moment or two too long. His face felt hot. “It’s a severed ear, not a bunch of flowers.”
“I love it.”
“Yeah.” There was more open appreciation in his voice than he’d meant to put there. “Figured you were enough of a bloodthirsty little shit for it.”
“Speaking of which—you’re not … expecting me to cut off Blackbeard’s ear for you, are you?”
“You couldn’t give him so much as a fucking haircut,” Izzy said.
“I know that, but I figured I should, you know, offer.”
“Mm. You didn’t quite, though.”
“I said that I knew I should,” Lucius said. “That’s almost the same thing. I’m self-aware.”
Izzy snorted, and Lucius smiled—victorious and alive and prettier than fucking Graves could have ever fucking hoped to be.
“Don’t tell me you commit glorious, bloody acts of heroism for all the boys,” he said, slipping the bundled-up handkerchief into his pocket. “I don’t need to be a one-and-only, but I still like to feel special.”
He wasn’t quite a one-and-only, Izzy thought, looking over towards the stern, where the ship’s captains and her company was lounging about listening to their moonlit music and probably fiddling with their own beloved severed ears. But he was one of just a few. And special wasn’t the worst word for it, if Izzy were going to talk about it, which he absolutely fucking wasn’t.
“Oh,” Lucius said quietly, following his gaze. “I can certainly work with that.” He kissed Izzy again, on the mouth this time, even more softly than before. It hit Izzy like a kind of slow lightning strike and left him tingling. “Come and sit with us? God, that would be something. One valiant defender of my honor on either side. And Frenchie will play that song he’s absolutely convinced you like.”
“Don’t know why he thinks that,” Izzy said, following Lucius, “but I might be coming around on it.”
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how do you as a bisexual come to terms with the fact that the trans community has literally made homophobia much worse. ppl are proudly being openly homophobic and when you dig deeper it’s actually the “queers” and transgenders who think kids can transition who they have a problem with (not all of course but a good chunk) I believe ppl who wouldn’t otherwise be homophobic are being homophobic bc of the trans community. I use to really struggle w internalized homophobia, and still do, it was only this past year where I came to terms w it and told my sister/close friends. I wish it could be just a normal thing to be gay and you’d be left alone, I believe we were on a trajectory for that. But now things have gotten worse, and thanks to the gender nonsense, openly bigoted ppl (especially religious) are being praised and promoted. All this bc of trans activism. I don’t even care anymore about what they do to themselves, but the damage they’ve done to actual gay ppl is insane and we’re already facing the backlash. I’m not sure if we’ll ever live in a world where being lgb isn’t a big deal.
Honestly? I think the benefit of pushing 40 is that I have a wider lens through which to view activism. And I feel the same way about LGB rights as I do about women’s rights.
Which is to say, every time a big gain is won, there is backlash. There are parts of society that get worse as the culture tries desperately to adjust around the new changes.
Men today are more porn sick and sexually aggressive than 20 years ago. In some ways. People are polling less positively about the LGTBQI+ but how much of that backlash is really directed at the LGB? Are polling groups even bothering to distinguish between LGB and “queer” people?
Let me tell you what life was like as a bisexual teen in 2003. Let’s go back 20 years and I can tell you the world has changed so much for the better. 20 years ago gay rights activists started really making headway towards civil rights guarantees. Suddenly middle Americans had to confront that gay people were among them and not just haunting bars and bathhouses. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such rigid gender norm adherence as I did back then. Men couldn’t wear pastels or purple or pink. Guys got called gay for having a messenger bag. There is an entire episode of “Friends” about it. Sussing out the Gays Among Us became obsessive. Emo culture was a direct response to how frantic straight people were to appear duly heterosexual. TV shows still depicted us as degenerate freaks if they depicted us at all. A few HBO shows that were soft core porn more than anything and Will and Grace was all anybody had. Shows like Xena and Buffy got away with lesbians because men said out loud that hot women kissing was fine. These were the early days of straight men having open lesbian fetishizes. We couldn’t get married. We could get fired for being gay.
For women there was no movement to normalize our natural bodies. I’d spend hours shaving myself smooth. Not wearing makeup was unheard of. Cellulite wasn’t even a word I knew let alone knew was normal. There weren’t a million online resources teaching women that vaginal discharge is normal and I grew up thinking (as did many others) that it was a private shame.
And as far as MeToo stuff? It’s easy to feel defeated in the moment but nobody was using the word ‘consent’ in my day. Men getting women drunk was a joke. Men pushing for sex was a joke. Men calling a woman that had one too many dates or boyfriends a slut was normal. Three of my male friends pinned me down on several occasions and took turns rubbing their dicks on me to completion.
The therapist I told said I “needed to work on my boundaries”. The word rape never even entered my mind. Rape was something a stranger with a knife did. It wasn’t something your best friends did to you and then laughed about. It isn’t something you submitted to because fawn and freeze are real fear responses. No one told me my friend forcing my hand down his pants was abuse because I continued to go over his house, didn’t I? No one told me about red flags or cycles of abuse.
And the older women you told rolled their eyes. What I endured was so mild compared to many other women. Men forcing themselves onto women was just normal.
I can’t tell you what it means to me to see so many young women calling it out. Refusing to stay in a bad situation. Refusing to date entirely sometimes. Women sharing red flags and advice to stay not just safe but thriving.
Don’t get me wrong- the current gender movement is regressive and dangerous. I’m not saying it’ll all work itself out. Activism is constant work but things ARE getting better. They really are, even if sometimes it doesn’t feel like it. 💜
#radical feminism#radical feminist safe#radical feminist community#radical feminists do interact#radical feminists do touch#radblr#radical feminists please interact#radical feminists please touch
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I’m so sorry but I had a few ideas, I’ll try my darndest not to swamp you but….
Scribes (or just g, your gonna discover a smidge of a trend) s/o being slowly corrupted by the old data
Hello Hello! Thank you for your request!
FRIEND SEND ME THE IDEAS!!! I love seeing them! Send them separately, of course, as I want to get to each of them if I can. But I’d love to hear them! So send them all my way and I’ll be sure to get to as many as I can!
Anyway, I hope you enjoy and have a good rest of your day/night!
-Scrybes partner slowly getting corrupted with the Old_Data-
—
It would be more subtle at first, with you mostly seeing things out of the corner of your eye than anything else. As time goes on though, you begin seeing strange things as you dream next to your partner. Words from messages, photos of people and places you didn’t recognize, a black and white daus card, all of it being unusual but you didn’t think much of it. Rather you dismissed it with them all being odd dreams that would dissipate eventually. Which had led to your surprise when discussing your strange dreams with your partner, you were met with a concerned and alarmed gaze from them, not shifting as if there were bounds of thoughts running through their mind.
Only when you asked them if they were alright did they snap out of it, but they clearly were still shaken with worry. They told you that they were, and that they were simply thinking about something. It was odd, but you simply accepted that for an answer and continued whatever task you were doing. The dreams and visions had only gotten worse, and you noticed your partner watching you with concern. Even their subordinates were starting to glance at you weird. What was frustrating was that when you pressed about it, it was usually dismissed with your partner giving you a small task to do in the meantime. They were keeping something from you, but they refused to say, so you stormed off to do the task they asked you to do.
---
Leshy
You were being corrupted. He could see it plain as day, and the realization pierced him like a sharp thorn in his stomach. Leshy knows you want the answers, why he’s been acting off, why he told his lackey’s to be wary of any odd behavior from you, but he can’t bring himself to do it.
For he’s too caught up in his own self-loathing that he failed to protect you from the cursed code plaguing this world. Sometimes when he’s alone, he’ll wail with despair. You were the last person who deserved to see all those horrible things, to learn the truth about this game’s existence. Leshy knows you’re angry, but what else can he do? Besides ripping away your innocence that made your eyes twinkle, your smile warmer.
He sits alone in his cabin, unsure of what to do. He hardly goes out to capture beasts anymore, earning the concern of his subordinates, who drop by his cabin every so often to see if he’s alright. All they’re met with is a concerned, lingering stare from him, one that shows the fear of realization.
He contemplates telling you, as tempting as it is, but how can he? How could he possibly tell the one he loves about something that’s infecting them, that had infected him too, that he knew about its existence all along and never told you in fear of hurting you? Too much, all of it is too much to bear.
He tries to divert his focus, maybe he can prepare another game of cards for when you get back..
Grimora
..She should’ve seen this coming. It was going to happen eventually, and Grimora knew it. But it startled her with how unexpected it was, when it seemed everything was simply going as it normally would, as normal as this place could get. But of course it wasn’t that simple, and she feels foolish for thinking that.
She doesn’t pry, but she does inquire about your strange visions every so often. It’s subtle, if infrequent, but it does give her a clearer idea of how far gone you are. Grimora does wish for things to be different, you of all people don’t deserve to go through something as horrific such as that.
When you do talk about your visions, sometimes she’ll say that she saw something similar years back. She never goes into detail, but she does keep it vague enough for you two to half-heartedly make a connection. When she sees your blissfully unaware gaze as she speaks, it makes her cold heart ache. Why must this happen to you?
Out of all the Scrybes, she doesn’t necessarily keep everything hidden away from you, but keeps certain elements that would be too daunting obscure when discussing it. So she’s certainly more willing to talk about it, but very vaguely.
Grimora is…uncertain if she should reveal the truth to you. Afterall, she’s been telling you white lies this whole time, and she isn’t sure if it’ll make the damage worse or not. You deserve to know, but should you know is the question..
Such thoughts trouble her as she simply inscribes another epitaph of a tombstone, making a fresh card.
P03
The bot freezes as you go into detail about your dreams, claw clutching a freshly printed card tightly. He doesn’t say anything, only trying to relax itself as it slowly places down the card. As P03 listens, he slowly nods along, work almost completely abandoned.
He’ll press sometimes, with a usual, “Tell me more about that..” to pry a bit more information out of you. His odd behavior is noticeable and it does tell its workers about the possibility of you having more odd behaviors. But despite that, he doesn’t change a whole lot, aside from asking more questions from you than normal. He seems..cautious, wary of something that it refuses to talk about.
In addition, P03 also seems to be cutting back on the usual teasing and banter, to the point where they’re few and far between. When you ask if he’s alright, it’ll tell you that it's fine, and will bring up something else to distract you. It’s not the most effective thing, but it’ll do to keep you oblivious for a little longer.
Eventually, he fesses up. P03 sits you down for a long talk, and tells you what’s going on and what exactly your dreams and visions mean. Depending on how well you take it, he will try to console you about it, maybe wrapping an arm around you as it tries to comfort you.
If there were a better way to go about this, he would take it. But..he can’t lie to you, it can’t keep the wool over your eyes forever. He had to tell you, as painful as it was. P03 lets you take your time to fully wrap your head around it, listens to you vent whenever it becomes worse, and tries its damn best to make sure that you feel safe around it and everyone else.
P03 wishes for a way to prevent this from happening, but at the very least, you are aware of what’s happening and are trying to keep it from getting worse.
Magnificus
Magnificus is absolutely mortified the moment he hears about your dreams and visions. The horror of the realization makes him openly shudder, and it takes him a good few moments to fully recollect himself, even some reassurance from you. He dismissed it with it being a vivid vision he had to spare your concern, but after that, he had been anxious nonstop.
He can hardly look you in the eye anymore, fearful of seeing a glimpse of that cursed code infesting you so subtly you don’t even notice it. In his own subtlety, you can pick up on his nervous behavior by noticing how his hand shakes as he paints on a blank canvas. You try to ask him what’s wrong, but he’s defensive, even outright pushing you away so you can stop bothering him.
He can’t tell you. The thought makes him shiver and his mouth dry with terror. He feels guilty for pushing you away, but he doesn’t know what else to do. What can he do? Just watch his beloved partner lose to the corrupted code?
All of this fear, this paranoia surrounding it, he wishes for it all to just stop. It makes his body and mind ache, as he practically collapses onto the bed to rest every night. Magnificus is terrified for you, so scared of what will become of you. He tries to bring himself to push past his anxiety, to help you, tell you something, anything that will help you. But he can’t..he can’t bring himself to rasp a single word to you.
Trembling, he strokes his brush on a new canvas, trying to paint a better future for you and your wellbeing.
#inscryption#inscryption leshy#inscryption grimora#inscryption p03#inscryption magnificus#leshy x reader#grimora x reader#p03 x reader#magnificus x reader#asks#healer elowen#this was four pages long good lord-/lh
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alright, his letter really got me.
if i can get kinda personal really quick—which i usually avoid doing too much—i promise it’s warranted if you feel like reading to the end of this post in which i’m about to share some things about a deeply painful experience i went through this year and am still enduring the weight of. if you follow me closely enough, you probably know what i’m referring to…
before i do though, i want to mention how truly mind blowing it is that someone who already means a lot to you can somehow keep becoming more and more important as time goes on without even doing much, really, just by being there. since the start of the year, i have not been in the best mental state. i suffer from anxiety and depression which causes me to have a really tough time sleeping and it’s only gotten worse over the months.
i cannot stress enough how many times jungkook lifted my spirit and my mood on some of my worst days/nights since he started doing his frequent weverse lives. it sounds bleak to say because it is, but he was one of the only constant sources of light in my life this year. i can’t tell you how many times it felt like whenever i was feeling my lowest or was riddled with dread about something, i’d suddenly get a notif that he was live. like he’d just pop up when i’d need a distraction the most. even if it was a temporary relief, it would often help take my mind off of things and sometimes it was the only time i’d smile or laugh in an entire week. he was already such a comforting person to me, but it was only amplified every time he went live seeking the same feeling and i quickly found a lot of solace in the thought that we both seeked a familiar warmth for a while. i think a lot of people felt the same. i was seriously getting though the first half of the year thanks to the music the members were releasing and jk’s lives. that’s it. not much else was driving me forward.
then june 11th happened. that morning, i was woken up by my mom telling me my older sister was unresponsive in the hospital. i won’t go into specifics of what happened, but i ended up spending the whole day at home alone while the rest of my family rushed to the hospital. i couldn’t go with them. i knew i wasn’t going to be able to handle it and that made me feel absolutely riddled with guilt. instead, i spent hours in bed just waiting for text updates of what was going on, but they were few and far between. all i’d been told was that they were going to turn her life support off at some point in the day and i hadn’t heard anything after that for a few hours, so i didn’t know if it had happened yet or not for what felt like ages. i felt totally in the dark.
so i was laying there feeling numb, not doing anything but trying to reconcile with losing a sibling so soon and staring at my phone, willing news to come through but also praying it would stay silent. in my denial, silence meant what was happening wasn’t actually happening.
then that 🌟 JK live notif came through out of no where and i felt my heart literally stutter because there was just no fucking way. this was the first time i’d ever gotten that notif at that hour in my timezone. he rarely did morning lives, what on earth could he be doing? why now? why why why?
absolutely nothing in that moment was more important than my sister and what my family was experiencing, but there was literally nothing that i or anyone could do. i was helpless and unable to process the million thoughts and questions running through my head. in my desperate need for that familiar comfort, that distraction, i eagerly clicked the notif and was faced with those big, ridiculous brown eyes blinking at me sideways over the top of a blanket in his bed too. “you can’t be serious,” i said to my screen out loud and then i fucking laughed. incredulously, in disbelief, in amusement, in horror, in grief, in happiness, all of the above.
“how did you know?” i wanted to sob, but all i could do was keep laying there, practically comatose (for lack of a better word), as i watched who had steadily become what felt like my closest and dearest friend across the ocean tell me he wanted company falling asleep. it almost felt like a sick joke the universe was playing on me. like hey, you need a distraction from something really bad happening and it’s not gonna change a thing and it’s parasocial as fuck, but it’s literally the only thing that’s been working so far up until this point aka the lowest point. so here he is, the booooy.
anyway, he fell asleep. i finally rested my eyes. my thoughts calmed down for a brief while. frankly, at the risk of sounding insane, i felt like i was being looked after. supported? no, he had no clue. he was in dreamland and his arm was twitching. he hadn’t even said much after the first few minutes and once he passed out, all that mattered until it would inevitably be cut off was the fact that he was just… there.
my sister passed away not too long after the live was turned off. i wasn’t told until a couple hours later, but the fact is this: in the hour leading up to it, i was successfully distracted and i was comforted. of course, it didn’t last long but it had helped me in the moment i most needed it (again, but x10000) and i am forever in jungkook’s debt for those last few moments of solitude before my entire year was flipped on a permanent axis that day. i’m with one less sister and the grief has been insurmountable.
so i just wanna say if it’s seemed like i’ve been leaning a bit more on jungkook than usual this year, this is why. he’s just been an angel for me, quite literally. it’s also why i refuse to entertain any messages i receive slandering him for whatever reason or accusing me of favoring him over anyone else lately when that’s just not the case. i’m just trying to get by. i’m channeling my grief into my content, my creations, and in doing so, i am channeling my love and appreciation into what is getting me through it the most. so it’s a waste of time to twist it into something it isn’t and i’ll only ever give you a pity laugh and move on. none of the kpop industry jargon that people get mad about these days matters to me at all and life is too short to waste being angry about shit you can’t control. you don’t know what people are going through and you don’t know what someone means to someone else or why. so put your energy towards things that make you happy instead. you’ll feel better. i never owed an explanation, but there it is if you’ve been looking for one.
to wrap this up, i didn’t think i’d ever write any of this down and i could probably write essays just as long as this one for all the other members and what they did for me this year too. it’s going to be incredibly hard to see them go. my ult bias for-fucking-ever, my taehyung, i simply do not know how i’m going to get through my days without him. i just can’t picture or fathom it and i don’t fucking want to. he’s my favorite person in the world. i will be so empty with him gone. there are no words for how painful it’ll be so i’m not even gonna try to find them. my sweet jimin who also brings so much comfort and hilarity into my life, i simply cannot stomach the thought of him going away. my dear namjoon who i swear to god yanks my ass back up above water when i feel like i’m drowning in my feelings and inspires me to be better, what the hell am i gonna do? i’m already spiraling without yoongi’s tranquility. and of course, jungkook, who you now know has just been an incredibly special presence in my life this year. someone i’ve learned so much from, laughed with, cried with, eaten with, rested with, who showed up for me over and over and over and has no idea the impact he had, how grateful i am. i’ll never be able to thank him. thank you thank you thank you for being there for me. thank you all the members for fucking being there for me literally all the time.
this sucks! this sucks but i’m gonna power through it with the rest of you. i’m gonna try.
#tw death#turning reblogs off bc it’s just too personal to let circulate#but thank you for reading it you did
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#FFxivWrite2023 - Day 16: Jerk
The Crystal Exarch’s head jerked upwards as the aetherial chain around his neck pulled taut. Emet-Selch, who for gods-only-know what reason still wore the garb of Emperor Solus, walked into the room with a cool nonchalance.
“Sorry, am I intruding? I had hoped you might indulge me with a little chat,” the Ascian said.
G’raha simply stared with a calm, patient loathing. He needed to conserve what little strength he had—and hopefully even recover a little more, if that was even possible. It would be difficult. He was so very far from the tower. Coming to that, he did not rightly have an idea where he actually was, besides “a long way away”.
The surrounds were amenable—almost hospitable—but huge, built for beings several times larger than anyone he knew. He felt he saw faint hints of design that one might see in Garlean architecture, but this felt warmer. Richer. Less consumed with constantly brandishing a fist of iron. More invested in art and enlightenment. Were it not for his aetheric restraints, he would be quite eager to explore.
Of course, he had made all of those observations between when he had regained consciousness, and now. He was a bit preoccupied with other matters at the moment.
Emet-Selch was by no means the first dangerously-powerful madman he’d faced. So he knew he must stay stoic and focused. Maintaining composure was absolutely essential for not talking one’s way into a trap—doubly so when dealing with one of the Paragons.
It also tended to drive said dangerously-powerful people to utter distraction, which was always a bonus.
“No?” Emet-Selch sighed, feigning disappointment. “Shy, are we? I would have hoped for more from the, what was it again? ‘Adjudicator of sacred history’...?”
The subtlest smirk tugged at the corner of G’raha’s lips. The Ascian’s tone had clearly been intended to mock how low he had fallen. But he took it as a heartening sign. He had gotten to him.
Emet-Selch’s face registered the briefest flicker of irritation. But he shrugged and shook his head. “I had thought to use your chosen title to be polite. But if it no longer suits you…” he knelt to the Exarch’s eye level, who was bound, seated, against the wall. “Then perhaps you would prefer I use another term. Tell me, what should I call you?”
“‘Crystal Exarch’ will suffice.”
“Hmm. I think not, G’raha,” the Ascian replied. He was only the second person in a hundred years to use his true name. G’raha did not appreciate it. Emet-Selch wryly continued, “Oh yes, I did indeed hear your champion as you were trying to draw that light out of her. What a pity you did not have the strength to see the deed done in the end. What a torturous, agonizing transformation she must be undergoing. Perhaps even as we speak!”
To any who did not know him well, G’raha’s utter non-reaction would have come as a surprise. One might conclude he did not seem to care all that deeply for the Warrior of Light after all.
But of course, the truth was simply that nothing Emet-Selch could say would be worse than what he had berated himself with already. He remained quiet. He did not break eye contact.
The cavalier air started to fade. Emet-Selch’s gaze grew hard. “So, G’raha. You are clearly from the Source. But who are you?”
“No one you would ever need be aware of.”
“Well, obviously,” he said, rolling his eyes, “Else we would not be having this conversation. How came you to know such unique applications of the tower?”
“Do you not find its workings simple enough?” he answered dryly.
“Quite so. And what you have done should not be possible. …And we have had this conversation before, so let us cut right to the chase. How did you do it?”
“Impossibly, it would seem.”
Emet-Selch raised his hand, and with a quick turn of his wrist, the aetherial shackles wound around the Exarch tightened. He gritted his teeth against the pain, but made not so much as a sound.
“Do you know how easily I could kill you?” the Ascian asked.
“With very little effort, I’d imagine. …But you won’t.”
Another squeeze of the constraints. Emet-Selch’s voice was low, nearing a growl. “I would advise you not to tempt me otherwise.”
Both men stared at each other, waiting to see who would balk first.
Suddenly and without warning, Emet-Selch straightened up with a start and looked off into the distance at nothing. He appeared as if he had heard something. G’raha couldn’t tell what.
But whatever it was, it allowed Emet-Selch’s infuriatingly casual facade to slip back into place. He released his intangible grasp on the chains, and G’raha slumped, gasping a quiet breath of relief.
The Ascian stood. “Ah. Forgive me, adjudicator, but business calls me away. Do have a think about what we discussed while I am out, would you?”
“Anything for you,” he replied, allowing himself a parting barb of sarcasm.
Emet-Selch smirked. He walked away with a halfhearted wave. “Try not to dally too much. After all… the forthcoming rejoining is back on schedule, and it shall wait for no man.”
As the heavy door swung shut, G’raha hung his head and tried to breathe deeply. If he had any desperate last chance to make things right—however slim—he must focus.
With every onze of his senses, and quietly whispered incantations, he began attempting to decipher a way to dispel his bonds.
#FFxivWrite2023#FFxivWrite#Shadowbringers spoilers#Crystal Exarch#G'raha Tia#Emet-Selch#two old men have a staring contest
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Today, on 28th January, 2011
Q Magazine published with Queen 16-page exclusive - May & Taylor Speak! / 'The Unseen Freddie'
Roger Taylor interview (extract)
Who did you have most in common with when the band first got together?
Brian, really. We haven’t always got on but we’ve come to realise that we need one another. Brian is my enduring mate, but I was very close to Fred. I think we were the naughty ones.
You and Freddie were flatmates for a while in the very early days of Queen. Did you cook for each other?
Oh God! [Laughs]. One Christmas I was there with Fred and all we had was a packet of bread sauce that you make with water. We used to dream of a can of beans! We were very broke but we still managed to ponce about and appear rather grand.
You’d been a dentistry student. Did Freddie ever ask you for advice about his teeth?
Well, not really. His teeth were in strange places. I think he was very fearful, quite squeamish about having anything done because it would have involved fairly major surgery.
Queen released their first seven albums between 1973 and ’78. Not bad going…
No, I suppose it wasn’t. We were very painstaking making the albums, too. It was almost like a privilege to get in these studios which, at the time, cost what seemed like a fortune. Thirty quid for every hour! So we respected that and just grafted.
Did Bohemian Rhapsody seem like a peculiar song at all when Freddie first suggested it?
No, I loved it. The first bit that he played to me, was the verse. “Mama, just killed a man, dah-dah-la-dah-daah, gun against his…” All that. I thought, “That’s great, that’s a hit!” It was in my head, a simpler entity then; I didn’t know it was going to have a wall of mock Gilbert and Sullivan stuff, you know, some of which was written on the fly. Freddie would write these huge blocks of mass harmonies on the backs of phone books.
When Freddie would say thinks like “What’s a mortgage, darling?” in interviews, Brian and John didn’t seem to like it too much…
No, I don’t think they did.
What did you make of it?
I thought it was hilarious because it was always a complete wind-up. He knew that what would annoy people more than anything was assuming this sort of Marie Antoinette… “Let them eat cake!” That was him. You know, “F*** ‘em. If they don’t like me I’ll be even worse than they expect.
Did you ever accompany him on his legendary shopping sprees?
Oh yeah. We used to buy each other rugs occasionally. Freddie used to say, “Always buy the best, dear”, which is a great piece of advice. There’s no point in getting the Jag when you can have the Aston Martin.
Was that your philosophy?
In a way, although I didn’t take it anyway near as far as he did. We’ve been incredibly lucky, we’ve had a great career and I’ve never been one to hide it. We are what we are. At the same time we’ve done lot of quite good things. Maybe [laughs].
Queen’s parties were infamously wild…
It really was a very small part of what was going on. We just thought it was a laugh. If we could screw that much money out of the record company to have an almighty blowout then why not? It’s just become… the myth of the dwarf with the coke on his head [at the New Orleans launch party for their 1978 album Jazz] and all that. It never happened.
Really?
No. Well, I never saw it [laughs]. I’d tell you if I did. There were weird things going on but… [mildly weary] the parties and everything, people like to hear about all that but it’s sort of in the past now.
But you must appreciate why people love those stories.
Yeah, but I wouldn’t recommend a party with a hundred strippers as a great marketing tool.
In an interview back then you said, “I like strip clubs and strippers and wild parties with naked women.” Was that an accurate summary of your interests?
Ha! All true, of course.
Was cocaine ever your thing at all?
Well, everything was around then. We did a bit of this and that but I don’t think it ever really ruled us.
Everything in moderation.
[Laughs]. We were never for moderation.
As Queen became more successful, why did you travel around in separate limos?
That was the easiest way to do it. Limos are the stupidest cars. There’s really only room for two passengers and you’d usually have your girlfriend or wife or whatever, companion, or your assistant with you. We could afford four you know? It was nothing to do with not wanting to speak to one another.
What did you think when Freddie turned up one day with his new moustache?
I always said that he could have ridden naked down Oxford Street and got less publicity than he did by growing a f****ing moustache. One man grows moustache. Not a big deal. But it was, obviously, in his case. It represented this sort of gay clone scene at the time, so there was some sort of vibe off that. I mean, it didn’t bother us at all.
What misconceptions do you think people might hold about Freddie?
Well, he had a very shy side and a very forceful side as well. That was it, really. In the studio he was such a worker. That’s where he was completely at home, not shy at all. I never had a cross word with Freddie. He was the glue that kept us together, in a way. It’s difficult to describe. A complex man. In a social situation he might be quite shy, but then he could also enter the room with all the charisma turned up to 10 and take it over, but he’d have to psyche himself up for that.
As he would if he was going onstage?
Absolutely. The same thing, really.
Apparently on tour you and Freddie played a lot of Scrabble. Who was the best?
Fred and I used to love Scrabble. We all played, but it got a bit too serious so the other two would drop out. Freddie was brilliant because he could score more with fewer tiles. I was pretty much his match, I think. Brian got the most points I’ve ever seen with one word, which was 168. Can I remember what the word was? Yes, “Lacquers”. “Q” on the triple, all seven letters, triple word. Work it out. [Q Ed’s note: we’ve tried and failed – over to you, Scrabble nuts.]
When you knew that Freddie was dying was there any question of stopping?
No. He only asked two things. The first was let’s keep working. The other thing was when he was really sick, just come and visit me.
Towards the end Freddie’s home was besieged by the press. That seems normal now but it was quite unusual at the time.
Yeah, his house was surrounded by vultures. They’d even be photographing his groceries as they were brought out of the car. It was horrific, actually.
Did you make your feelings known when you would go and visit him?
I did hit a photographer one night and I think I ran over another one’s foot. All those people, what are you going to say, you know? Just horrible dickheads.
Did you get to say goodbye to him?
Well, one time he was very, very sick. I was about 300 yards up the street on my way to see him when Peter [Freestone], his assistant, rang me and said, “Don’t come, he’s just gone.” That was a real blow, but… yeah, literally 300 yards away on Kensington High Street. [Pause, little smile] Next question.
Sorry.
No, that’s alright.
After the Freddie Mercury tribute concert in 1992 did you think, “Well, what do we now?”
Oh, definitely. There was a very empty period. It was, “What do we do now? Well, let’s give up. Yeah, let’s give up. That was good. That’s done.” Then, of course, after a while you’d feel, “Well, shall we finish that material?” Eventually we summoned up the strength to finish it and I think we made a good job of it [the resulting album was 1995’s Made In Heaven].
Can you understand why some fans think that the whole idea of the Queen musical We Will Rock You, is almost offensive?
Yeah, I do, and they’re welcome to think what they like because I hate musicals. The fact is we did our best to make it an enjoyable experience for those who might like that kind of thing. I make no excuses for it. If you get all purist about things… everybody wants everything to be kept in a jar like it always was and that’s not the way the world works.
Queen’s album sales are often given as being approximately 300 million. Do you have any idea what the actual figure is?
Honestly, I don’t know. Somewhere between two and three hundred, maybe. It’s a lot. [Pause] Great, isn’t it? [Laughs]
(➡️ source: brianmay.com website)
📸 Pic: 1986 - Freddie Mercury posing
#q magazine#freddie mercury#queen band#london#zanzibar#legend#queen#brian may#john deacon#freddiebulsara#roger taylor#interview#2011
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Good Influence Podcast: Fans' Reaction
Word Count: 1.5k
Category: Angst-ish
Warning: few curse words
Summary: Fans react to Harry’s episode on Good Influence podcast where he talked about bsgf!yn.
Backstage Girlfriend!Universe Masterlist
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Liked by annetwist and 638,973 others
goodinfluencegs OUT NOW!⭐️ This is a special one. This week, I’m chatting with my brother, Harry Styles @harrystyles, as he talks about his relationship, self-accountability, and emotional vulnerability. This one means a lot to me because it’s always an interesting conversation when someone opens up about their feelings. Listen wherever you get your podcasts ⭐️
Comments
user1 3 months after y/n’s podcast too
user2 just listened to it. i’ve been a fan of harry’s for so many years and not once has he ever been this honest, open and direct. it’s so clear how much his relationship with y/n meant and how much influence she has on his personality. it’s really sad that things ended between them because harry was basically a shit boyfriend but from what i see, they’re both dealing with it differently. i wish him growth and healing 🥹
user3 THE WAY HE SLIPPED UP AND SAID HER NAME
↳ user4 I NOTICED IT TOO I LITERALLY SCREAMED
↳ user5 i already knew he was talking about her but nothing could’ve prepared me for hearing him actually say it
user6 i know he’s human and makes mistakes, but when he said he was loved and supported in the relationship and that y/n would have gone to the ends of the world for him and how she basically told him that his career doesn’t matter unless HE’s okay and believes that he’s worth more than work…and then he still went ahead and broke her heart…ik we don’t know exactly what happened but i think i lost so much respect for him :/
↳ user7 i agree so much with you. i’d react the same way if he wasn’t a celebrity too. like he literally said he took advantage of her and people are still stanning him 😀
↳ user8 @user6 @user7 why are you acting as if him admitting it means nothing? he’s obviously working on himself and beating himself up for it. why do you have to make it worse for him?
122,937 likes
harryupdatesacc I know it’s not the time…but unseens of Harry and Y/N via louiseburcham & mutualfriendwhowasprivateonig
Comments
user1 they look so good together 🥲
user2 the fact that there were people who thought they were “platonic soulmates” when they were literally together
user3 harry really left THIS for his fucking director whom he has no chemistry with 🤡
user4 yall still stan him?
↳ user5 yes.
↳ user6 @user5 L
↳ user7 ^^ do you realize that there are so many things we don’t know?
↳ user6 @user7 he literally admitted that he broke her heart and took advantage of her love for him?? what are u on about
↳ user8 @user6 and he apologized and y/n forgave him. why are you upset? he obviously feels like shit and he said it and he LOOKS it. Y/N moved on so how about you do too?
user9 2022 didn’t have to show me that harry is a toxic boyfriend and ex
↳ user10 how is he toxic though? he apologized and he came clean. genuinely asking, not trying to fight 💗
↳ user9 @user10 besides hurting y/n and as he said “broke her heart”, if the theories are true then he put his acting career and publicity first and agreed to the holivia stunt when he was with someone. he talks about y/n so much (ik it’s the interviewers’ fault but he knows better than to keep mentioning her name and can stop them from talking about her)
↳ user9 @user10 he still follows her on instagram (she unfollowed him 5 days after ONO london) and tbh i feel like that’s just…no.
user11 “toxicrry era” don’t call yourself a fan when you attack your fave like that wtf
↳ user12 even harry himself called himself toxic and that what he did was fucked up. you don’t have to be far up his ass 24/7 😘
user13 you’re acting as if y/n is angel 🤡
↳ user14 ….she is though
↳ user13 @user13 not you calling someone who took advantage of harry’s fame and now joe’s fame “an angel” lmfao
↳ user14 believe it or not, women can be in relationships with famous people and still be hardworking and make their own living😭 just because she works in the industry doesn’t mean she took advantage of any of them. besides, not YOU calling someone who made harry happy and put his mental health first anything but an angel but go off i guess
Twitter
@user1twitterhandle
y/n talking about harry: “he’s an amazing person with the biggest heart and admirable character”
harry about y/n: “i’m just a jealous son of a bitch at the end of the day”
652 Retweets 63 Quote Tweets 1,729 Likes
↳ user2 @user2twitterhandle
Replying to @user1twitterhandle
that’s literally not what he said? did you seriously disregard that he only praised her during the entire podcast? wtf touch some grass
293 Retweets 18 Quote Tweets 2.7K Likes
@user3twitterhandle
say what you want to say, y/n will always be harry’s “the one that got away”
14.8K Retweets 28 Quote Tweets 29.5K Likes
@user4twittrthandle
i wish he admitted that holivia was a stunt and that it was y/n who was his girlfriend all along though
104 Retweets 14 Quote Tweets 303 Likes
@user5twitterhandle
the fact that he SPOKE about it shows us how real this relationship was. y/n is the love of his fucking life. he has never felt like that about anyone before
8.2K Retweets 87 Quote Tweets 26.1K Likes
@user6twitterhandle
y/n telling harry “you owe it to yourself to grow in more ways that your songs and career allow you to”. end tweet
28.1K Retweets 102 Quote Tweets 84.8K Likes
@user7twitterhandle
“it’s important to me that people realize that the person who stands on a stage can also be the same person who broke someone’s heart.” - harry on ‘Good Influence’
37K Retweets 294 Quote Tweets 173.5K Likes
↳ user8 @user8twitterhandle
Replying to @user7twitterhandle
idk but hearing that felt like a punch to my gut. it’s so real. it’s awakening.
183 Retweets 6 Quote Tweets 872 Likes
TikTok
As always, there were a lot of videos on the app of people reacting to the podcast that nobody had expected; people crying, screaming, talking, and every possible reaction that one could show.
In a 736K liked TikTok video, a fan was sitting in her car—a common setting that was used, and one that had you feeling like it was going to be a good one—starting the 3-minute video by taking a breath.
“Let’s talk,” she said before the video cut to her again, “What the fuck? What the actual fuck?” She began, pinching her nose and looking outside the window before looking back at her phone, “So, for those who don’t know, Harry talked about Y/N, his ex, on his sister’s podcast and he said a lot of things.
“One,” she raised a finger, “That he broke her heart. It was him who hurt her. Two,” two fingers, “She gave him nothing but love and support and basically was—was an amazing girlfriend. Three,” three fingers, “He could’ve done better. And four,” four fingers, “That he’s basically jealous of Joe—Joe Keery, who’s currently Y/N’s boyfriend,” she said.
The girl then sighed, “It’s good that Harry, like—It’s good that he talked about this and that he’s trying to heal. I think it shows how mature their relationship was even if it went to shit, but,” she pursed her lips for a second, “I think we should all know that publicity stunts happen in the industry and Harry’s relationship with Y/N was caught in the middle—it got hurt, got abused in the middle. You guys can’t think like, oh no, Harry lied to us about Olivia.
“Because that’s just childish. Fake relationships suck, sure, but they happen. And I will not be getting into discussions of whether Holivia was fake or not because,” she raised a hand up, “It literally was. Because according to timelines and the leaked pictures, Harry and Y/N were together for 3 years.”
Nevertheless, people in her comments still commented about feeling betrayed by Harry for being part in a publicity stunt.
In another TikTok video, a clip from Harry’s Coachella performance of Boyfriends was added as he talked:
“To boyfriends everywhere,” he said, before the video cut to a leaked picture of you and Harry, “Fuck you,” Harry’s voice said before the text was written right under Harry’s face in the picture.
In another viral video, it was Brittany Broski, her mascara smudged with tears as she cried, with music from the song Somewhere Only We Know by Keane playing, and with two texts over her head:
""It’s not your breakup, why the hell are u crying?"" and "Harry styles what the fuck is your problem"
The video then shifted to the two most recent leaked pictures of you and Harry as a guitar was added to the background sound, and another text, and a quote that Harry had said in the podcast, was added:
“You never knew you had it in you to hurt the one person you love.”
#backstage girlfriend#backstage gf!yn#bsgf blurb#harry styles imagine#harry styles blurb#harry styles angst imagine#harry styles fake social media
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Could I get a drabble of femme anon telling Adam they feel safe around him and his (almost certainly angst-ridden) reaction?
Here you go! Angst and fluff.
.....
They had been on the road when the storm hit. A violent tempest that cracked with thunder and beat a torrent of rain down upon Adam and Anon. Unwilling to continue on foot in the deluge they searched for a place to wait out the storm. The little hamlet they were investigating had fallen to a vampire attack and there were no signs of life. The houses were dark, the fields had been scorched. It seemed as though Anon and Adam were completely alone.
“This looks like a good place to rest,” Adam said as he wedged open the door of an abandoned house, peering in to check for any bodies before he gestured for Anon to head inside, “We can take shelter until the rain stops,”
Anon entered the home, shaking the rain out of her hair and removing her wet outer clothes, “Bad luck we’re stuck out here, this place is so grim,” she remarked heading through the kitchen and into the parlor finding a seat on the sofa.
Adam nodded, “ It could be worse, it looks like the vampires have also gone. They are unlikely to return with nothing they might derive sustenance from.”
He bent to avoid hitting his head on the door frame as he followed Anon, grumbling about houses being too tiny. Anon fought the urge to giggle as Adam tried to squeeze his 8-foot frame around the furniture, finally giving up and haphazardly moving it to make space for himself. As he eased himself onto the sofa next to Anon, she leaned into him.
Adam held perfectly still, afraid that if he dared put an arm around her or attempt to hold her that she would change her mind and recoil from him. The slight pressure of her head resting on his arm was as wonderful as it was torturous.
“You know, if you weren’t here, I’d probably be breaking down. Everything is so awful it feels like the world is ending,” she said bringing up a hand and stroking his arm.
“You…you aren’t afraid of me?” Adam hardly dared ask. Anon was new to the group and Adam had questioned the wisdom of having her partner with him on her first mission. She had been largely quiet and he assumed it was because she was intimidated by him.
“No, I asked to come on this mission with you because I feel safe with you. You were so kind to me when I first joined and you’ve been looking out for me the whole time we’ve been traveling,” she replied wrapping her arms around his.
The world stopped and all Adam could hear was his heart thundering in his ears. You wouldn’t say that if you knew, he thought, panic starting to rise. He could picture the confession spilling out of him, telling her about Victor and all he’d done to desolate his creator. He wanted to rip his arm from her grasp, it felt wrong to let her continue to hold on to him.
Why now? Now when it was far to late, did he find people who were able to care for him, to offer the companionship he so craved. A part of him wanted to snarl at her, to tell her everything and then dare her to still feel “safe” with him. But another part, a frail, broken and aching part, wanted to sink into her embrace and enjoy the warmth of human touch. Damnable circumstance. Bitter irony. It seemed fate would continue to be cruel, even when it appeared to offer kindness.
Anon must have noticed the change in his demeanor for she had lifted her head to stare into his face, brow furrowed with concern.
Don’t look at me, don’t look at me, don’t look at me, he pleaded silently. He turned his head away so she wouldn’t see the tears gathering.
“Adam? Are you alright?” she asked reaching up to touch his shoulder.
He couldn’t answer, his throat felt tight and everything was going grey…
“Adam! Adam breathe!” Anon instructed him as she rubbed his back in slow circles.
It helped; he could feel himself calming. He still would not look at Anon, but he did speak:
“You would not say you felt safe with me if you knew.”
“Hush,” Anon insisted, “I know you have a history, everyone does. You think Watson didn’t fill me in when I joined? This is everyone’s second chance, including yours and whatever you’ve done, it’s in the past. Adam-” she had to stand on the couch to reach his face and turn him to look at her, “-I do feel safe with you. You’ve done nothing to make me think you want to hurt me.”
“I don’t! You are my friend, my-my companion, I cannot think of hurting you,” he said, hating how his voice trembled and took on a pleading quality. He felt as though he were coming undone, the very seams holding him together splitting open as he mentally fell apart.
Anon wrapped her arms around his neck and Adam did not hold back in flinging his own arms around her and holding her close. She cuddled into him, assuring him that it was alright, that she trusted him with her life and that whatever he had done, she would not hold it against him.
Adam was not quite ready to believe her yet. But it was so good to hear that he did not argue. He held her for as long as she would allow, soaking up every drop of warmth and affection as only a man who had starved for it all his life could. When the rain finally cleared, they left the little hamlet and as it faded behind them Adam offered Anon his hand. She accepted, smiling as her hand disappeared in his. For the first time Adam could feel himself begin to hope that perhaps, just perhaps, he was worthy of love after all.
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|Eight| Windows to the Soul
My father is drinking a Corona when I enter the backyard after picking Ariana up from dance practice. Saturday’s are when he gets things done around the house. The lawn mower is still out by the garage as I take a seat by him. He nods his head towards the cooler and I nod my head. Soon a cool bottle is passed my way and I use the beer opener on my keychain to crack it open. We drink side by side in silence for a few moments as we each try to figure out what to say to each other. Like his father, my Pops headed to the military straight after high school. They share the same stoic demeanor except Granddad is a bit more personable. My father is a leader, true and thorough leader. If he isn’t giving directives then he seldom has anything to say unless he is in a big group of people. With us, he’s laid back, allowing us to say what was on our minds when we were ready versus prying it out of us like mom does. So it doesn’t take long for me to strike up a conversation.
“Is having a family something you always knew you wanted?” I asked, causing him to chuckle.
“I can always count on you to keep me on my toes boy I tell you,” he says, using a washcloth to dab at his brow. “But to answer you, to some extent yes. You tryna tell me something?”
Catching his meaning, I cough, and damn near choke on my beer as I shake my head. “No sir, I was just wondering.”
“You always just wondering,” Pops says with a chuckle. “Most curious child on this side of creation.”
“Can’t help it,” I grin, taking another swig from my beer.
For as long as I could remember, I had questioned everything, and for the most part my parents always answered my questions to the best of their abilities. Whenever they did not know something, they encouraged me to research the answer on my own. I was crafting a lecture about learned behaviors and wondered if creating a family was something people all learned to want or something we actually desired.
“Working out some learned behavior scenarios for my class. Thought I’d test one out on you.”
“Sounded like it was connected to some type of bigger message. You really like being a teacher huh?” Pops stated more than asked.
Some part of him always hoped I would join the army but those hopes were dashed once I got a record. To be honest, military life never appealed to me anyway. If I joined, I would have never been fulfilled, and living up to his reputation would have eventually proven to be too much pressure.
“I do,” I replied, taking another swig. “Crafting young minds and helping others with one career is pretty much all I could ever ask for.”
“Which is what I respect about you X, you stick to your guns, for better or worse,” Pops said with a head nod. “Now that sister of yours…rides the wind.”
“She’s a teenager, it’s what they do, it’s what I did,” I chuckled.
He grunted in response and I grinned as I stood to my feet. My sister had been working my parents’ nerves lately with her attitude. I was supposed to give her a talk when I picked her up but I figured she’d been lectured enough. Their talks never worked when I was her age. It was better to level with her by reminding her the better she behaved, the more freedom they would give her. She promised she would try and that was good for me.
“I have to head out of here. Got plans this afternoon,” I said, before finishing off what was left of the beer.
“What’s her name?” Pops asked, raising a brow. At this moment, it’s like I’m looking into a mirror because we share the same face but seldom the same expressions.
“What makes you think I’m meeting a girl?” I replied, walking over to the blue recycle bin not too far away.
“Cause you wearing cologne and you got a haircut,” Pops noted. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t lived at home for almost ten years, he still had me pegged.
“I can’t look nice?” I laughed.
“I ain’t asking that, I asked about who you looking nice for,” Pops said.
“Myself.”
“Bullshit.”
“Bye Pops,” I chuckled.
“See ya son,” he said with an amused shake of his head. “Whoever she is, I hope to meet her one day.”
I nodded my head before giving him one last wave. Jamila wasn’t a secret but our friendship meant a lot to me. I didn’t want to let any outside voices or influences, providing unnecessary commentary or advice. It was still new, the foundation not yet dry but molded with potential which meant it was susceptible to damage if I were not careful.
The sun is beaming as I wait on the corner of Fulton street, facing outward as I look for Jamila who texted that she had just got off of the three train, and was headed my way. My hands are tucked into my cargo shorts as I scan faces. Not even a full minute passes before she comes into view. Braids are piled onto the top of her head in a cute messy bun, she wears a printed short sleeved midi dress that has a cool design of tigers against an olive backdrop, and a yellow pair of Converses. On her shoulder is a tan tote bag that has an image of a hand positioned with the middle finger up in front of a pair of red painted lips. The sight of it and her make me smile as she approaches. This time I don’t have to ask for a hug as she slides her arms around my frame briefly in greeting.
“‘Sup Mila,” I said, giving her a quick squeeze before she slipped out of my embrace.
“Nothing much, sorry for the delay, Papi was following me and was about to get on the train too,” she says with a roll of her eyes.
“I wouldn’t have minded,” I chuckle as we fall into step. We don’t have to walk far, where I want to go first is only a few steps away.
“Trust me you would have. I had to promise to bring him something back to get him to keep his little ass above ground,” she huffed, as I opened the door to Midtown comics.
“What is he into?” I asked, as lead us to the new release wall. There was a new The Batman compilation volume out that I wanted to get my hands on.
“He said verbatim ‘something with Spiderman or X-Men will suffice’,” she says, causing me to laugh.
“The kid has taste. I’ll get him one of the series books so he’s not left hanging about what happens,” I said.
“Oh no, you don’t have to do that. He’ll get a single comic and be merry trust me,” she said, eyes flickering to mine from the display.
Stepping closer to her I say, “I don’t do anything I don’t want to do. Thought we got that understood the other night?”
She rolls her eyes causing me to laugh again knowing that I’m messing with her. “For real though, it’s not a big deal, so you're going to let me do this.”
“Fine,” she says fighting a grin. “What did we come in here for anyway?”
“This,” I say as I make a beeline for the cover I had been looking at since its announcement. I didn’t get to read much for fun anymore but I tried to make room for some light reading. Plucking it up, I pass her the volume which has some weight to it.
“Batman. I pegged you for more of a Captain America type but color me surprised,” she says, as she flips the volume over to read the back.
“You’re only saying that because I told you to watch the show,” I said.
“Perhaps, either way it’s true but this looks good, seems interesting,” she says as she passes it back to me. “Looking forward to you telling me all about it.” There’s a small smile on her lips but she heads down another aisle before I can fully appreciate it. I follow behind her wearing one of my own.
We aren’t in Midtown long, only a half hour as we browse for Papi, and I give brief synopsis of storylines until we find what we both think he’ll like. Then I take her to my favorite bookstore that also doubles as a record shop as they also sell vinyls. After pursuing the stacks and finding no novels of note, we start digging in crates side by side. Occasionally our fingers brush as we flip between the records but the slips don’t slow us down. I’m looking at a The Whispers album when I hear her say, “Oh wow.”
In her hands is Mary J. Bliges second album My Life.
“That’s a classic right there,” I said, remembering all the times we had to clean the house to this album.
“Truly. My mom loved this cd so much. I didn’t know they made it as a vinyl though,” she said.
“They’ve been remaking a lot of old albums into vinyls as record players have come back into style,” I said.
“I see,” she said, as her fingers trail over the price sticker. It’s thirty dollars and for someone on a job hunt, seems like an unnecessary purchase which is why she was attempting to put it back before I slipped the record from her hand. I place it under my arm along with The Whispers. “Xavier, it’s fine I don’t need it.”
“Maybe but you want it which is reason enough. Now help me find one more. I try to grab something out of my usual norm to expand my musical palette,” I said, as I moved to the next set of crates.
“Genre matter?” she asks, deciding to go along with me instead of fighting against me. I’m glad because I saw her eyes when she brought up her mother. This wasn’t just a vinyl, it was a good memory, and I wanted her to hold onto it anyway she could.
“Not at all. Whatever you think is interesting,” I say.
She nods her head and then we fall back into concentration. Time slips by but we don’t notice as we take our time. Eventually she plucks out a A Night at the Opera by Queen. The cover and titles of the songs are enough to add to the pile under my arm. I also grab Prince’s Purple Rain and Wu-Tang’s 36 Chambers, making it a total of five vinyls added to my collection before we head to Habana Outpost to grab a quick meal of tostones and fish tacos.
“I meant to ask you earlier but what made you start collecting vinyl?” she asks, wiping her hands on a napkin.
“Nothing in particular really. I love music and my friend Rah got one. I liked how the music sounded coming from it and got one for myself. Now I like finding random music to listen to,” I reply as I finish up my last taco.
“How many do you have?” she asked next.
“Um maybe forty something now,” I answered with a shrug because I wasn’t fully sure. “Would you like to see my collection? We can listen to a few and just chill.”
“When?” she asked, taking a sip of her frozen mojito that was partially melted from the heat that hadn’t let up even with the start of sunset.
“Now,” I chuckled. “I’ll get you an Uber back home.”
“I was going to say yes anyway but now that you’ve sweetened the pot…,” she trails off.
“Just trying to fulfill my Prince Charming duties,” I say, which causes her to laugh.
It’s a musical sound, light and airy, as she shakes her head at me. I thought her smile was something on its own but paired with her laugh it’s infectious. I smile back as she calls me corny for the thousandth time.
“Welcome to my home, make yourself comfortable,” I said, as I turned on the lights.
Behind me, Jamila toed out of her sneakers before padding into the hallway that led into the newly refurnished living room. As she nods her head in approval while looking around, I make a mental note to tell Rah he was right about the style choice. While she eyes the pictures I have on the mantel, I grab us two bottles of water from the kitchen.
“Thanks,” she says as I pass her one. “You have a nice place.”
“My best friend helped me redecorate. I needed a reset,” I replied, as I set mine on the coffee table.
“From what?” she questioned, watching me go to retrieve the bag that held the vinyls. She’s level with the crate beside the record player eyeing the collection.
Skimming through the bag in my hand, I pulled out hers first. Since she didn’t have a record player, I wanted her to hear how it would sound once she did.
“My ex. Felt like she was too entwined in my space and I couldn’t have that any more,” I said, walking back.
“That’s real. This feels like you, expressive yet centered,” she said.
I hummed my agreement as that was the vibe I was going for as I placed the vinyl on the platform and dropped the needle before going to lay down beside her. Jamila had stretched out on the carpet and was putting her phone away. We’re head to head as our bodies stretch out in the opposite direction. We lay side by side, enjoying the album in mostly silence. One of the things I like most about hanging out with her is that I don’t always have to speak. In fact, I spend most of our time listening with intent because learning about her has become my new favorite thing. I’m always finding different ways to get her thoughts and it usually takes me a while to figure out what to ask. It isn’t until we reach the title track that a question comes to mind. “What do you think when you hear this song?”
“I think of the pain because it’s what I hear, the emotion…the unquelled hope. If I knew how to any more, I might be moved to cry.”
“How does one forget to cry?” I ask next.
“When one learns it changes nothing. That even after the last tear is shed reality remains and all of that effort could have been spent towards figuring out another solution. I taught myself how not to cry, how to just roll with the punches, and now I think if I ever do cry again, I might not ever stop,” she said, causing my head to turn in her direction.
She knows I’m watching her but her gaze remains towards the ceiling. I study the way her eyelashes brush her cheeks as she blinks a few times. It’s something she does when she’s nervous in addition to playing with her hair. I’m sure if I raise my head a bit, I’ll see her fingers wrapped around a braid. While I watch, I consider her words before responding.
“It’s not a question of ‘if’ Mila, it’s when. You right in the fact that crying changes nothing but it’s not supposed to. Crying is cathartic. Crying isn’t a way out of our problems…it’s a way through them,” I muse, letting my eyes glide across her face.
Her brows are pulled inward letting me know she is processing that line of thought. “Maybe. When was the last time you cried?”
“I think it was three weeks ago to be honest. It was my turn to watch my Granddad but my cousin Ryan joined me. We all fell asleep watching a game but Grandad had a really bad nightmare, reliving something from Vietnam. I uh, had to tackle him because he started choking Ry, and then GiGi my grandma started yelling at us. It was just a lot,” I breathed out.
“I can only imagine, dealing with dementia is hard. The person you know is slipping away in real time,” she said.
“What actually makes it worse is the times when he is completely lucid because for a second you hope the doctors were wrong or that a miracle is happening but then within a blink you can see the confusion creep in,” I said.
“It’s good that you don’t have to go through it alone and that y’all are helping each other through this experience. Your grandma was probably scared that day,” she said.
“She told me as much but I wasn’t going to hurt him or at least I wasn’t trying to. I couldn’t standby and watch Ry die either,” I said.
“No you couldn’t have. It was a tough choice to make but you made the right one for everyone involved,” she says, words soothing a wound that was still in the progress of healing. The guilt from that incident remains a main focus in my therapy sessions.
“As for having a big family, it helps but it also makes it hard because sometimes our love stops us from making the best decisions for him. I’ve recommended he goes to a facility that specializes with dementia because he needs full time care but no one was trying to hear me. Accused me of not loving him because that’s not what family does,” I said, clenching my jaw as I thought about that night a year ago when the whole family ganged up on me.
No one wanted to accept that the help and care that Grandad went beyond any of our capabilities. It didn’t matter that my degree was in social work and I saw the signs clear as day. Saw the strain it was putting on GiGi who took everything with a silent grace that was sometimes unsettling. Saw how my own father regarded his father with sterile hospitality and how his siblings followed suit since he was the oldest. Saw how the weight of the situation might be on all of our shoulders but only a few of us were willing to carry it for real. Saw how the outcome regardless of who did what would destroy us all.
“I go over there more than anyone else even though I live the farthest. I’m the witness to most of his violent episodes that they like to pretend don’t occur. The anger of feeling helpless and frustrated pushes me over the edge after a while,” I said.
“I felt like that with my parents. For a while, I thought that I could save them but my grandma had to explain that what I was doing was enabling not saving. That nobody could save them but themselves,” she said, pausing to swipe her tongue over her bottom lip.
“The demons they fought were internal and no amount of money or love could slay them. Watching them succumb to their addictions made me feel the same way. The last day I cried was because they had robbed me. Took anything that wasn’t nailed down outside of my clothes and important documents because they overpowered my grandma at the door. She only had it open a sliver but they broke the chain and barged in.”
“That was recent?” I asked.
“Nah, right before my high school graduation,” she replied.
It didn’t take me long to do the math. “That was…
“Eleven years ago,” she said, filling in the blanks, turning her head in my direction.
There are eleven years worth of tears, an ocean’s worth really, pent up inside of her. The realization dawns on me the same moment our eyes lock and for the first time I see the anguish in them. It wasn’t buried under layers of anger and snark. It was right at the forefront as she opened herself to me. Next to the anguish was fear of this…of being open but some part of her knew she didn’t have to be afraid around me. Knew that I could be a safe space to land and it’s not something I take lightly. There’s a protective nature that rises in me around her, stronger than anything I have ever felt. I don’t need to dissect it to know that it’s innate and neither does she as our hands stretch towards each other at the same time. Another understanding has passed between us as Mary’s vocals fill the air.
If you looked in my life and seen what I’ve seen…
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DAY 3 | It Takes Two (3/6)
Nina: Yeah, a little too late to be repentant now, Tucker: Tori's already booked to fly home tomorrow because of your little in the moment decision. But we'll get to you in a second. Over by the pool, Joey checks in with Manny about whether he's got a shot at capturing her affections this summer. From what I can tell, that's about to be a bit of an uphill battle for him. Though it looks like he's willing to put in the effort to prove that he's got what it takes to be Manny's main man! Not too far away, Tucker and Felicity talk romantic goals, to which Tucker seems to be less than interested in sharing, much to Fe's displeasure. I know we always say this isn't Friend Island, but Tucker probably would have been much better off saving Tori than putting himself in his worse case scenario. Eh, I'm sure he'll survive.
Next, we have one more couple to check in on as we zoom upstairs to the dressing rooms!
@queenofmyshuno @slothseasims @storiesbyjes2g @morrigan-sims
Beginning | Island Schedule | Previous | Next
Manny: So, what did you want to talk about?
Joey: Oh, nothing in particular.
Manny: Seriously? Then why the urgency?
Joey: Uh, well, I guess there was one thing. I thought we were clicking pretty well, you and I, even before today’s challenge. But you don’t seem too enthused over being coupled up with me. Guess I’m just a little confused.
Manny: Well, I would have thought that you would have at least asked me if I wanted to couple up with you before you decided for yourself. That would have been nice.
Joey: [chuckles] Alright, maybe I jumped the gun a bit, but can you blame me? Anyone would be a fool to pass up a beauty like you. And I’m not in the business of making a fool out of myself.
Manny: Uh-huh. Well, word of advice for next time: I’m not in the business of being someone’s conquest.
Manny: [in the DR] Tonight was shaping up to be a real win for me after everything that happened today, and now this. Joey really chose the worst time to go rogue. I know ultimately it doesn’t change too much for me: I’m still free to go and explore some other connections in the Villa. But it really sucks not being with who I really had my eye on.
Joey: Next time? Does that mean I should be expecting this little arrangement to go on for a while?
Manny: Not even a little bit.
Manny: Look, you’re a fun guy, Joey. I’ll admit we have some good back and forth conversation-wise. For that reason alone, I’ll let you shoot your shot. But to be clear, I won’t be closing off any other people from getting to know me. So you better be ready to step up to the competition.
Joey: Hear you loud and clear! And don’t you worry - I intend to sweep you off your feet.
Joey: [in the DR] I’d say I haven’t done too bad for myself tonight! I traded in a controlling redhead for a sexy blonde, and so far, I couldn’t be happier. Manny might be playing a little hard to get right now, but I’m sure it won’t take too much to make her realize just how good we are together. As far as I’m concerned, what competition is there really against me?
---------------------------
Felicity: So! I already have an idea of what your career goals are, but tell me what it is you’re looking for here in the Villa. A future heiress to your culinary empire?
Tucker: [chuckles nervously] Not exactly. I’m not too concerned about my future girlfriend being that involved in my work. I think it’s healthy to have a little separation. I wouldn’t say that I have that many “expectations,” really. It all comes down to whether or not the chemistry is there between us. Everything else is just extra after that.
Felicity: Ahhh, I see. I sorta agree with you to an extent. I’ve definitely got my list of “must-haves,” but if a guy were to check off all my boxes but we had zero compatibility, there’s no way we’d last.
Felicity: [in the DR] I’m absolutely buzzing over the recoupling! I knew I had a pretty good shot from the get go, but nothing beats actually hearing Tucker call my name in front of everyone. And I must admit, it was satisfying seeing Manny stuck with my leftovers. [laughs] I just can’t wait to find out so much more about Tucker! He feels like the exact type of guy I’ve been searching for!
Felicity: So would you say I’m your usual type?
Tucker: I wouldn’t say I have a “type.” Like I said, it all comes down to the vibe.
Felicity: Aw, come on. Physically you have to have a preference.
Tucker: Not at all. I consider what’s on the inside more important. But, I actually was hoping we could cut this short. I was hoping to pull a couple other people aside before turning in for the night.
Felicity: Uh, don’t you think that’s a little rude? We just coupled up. Before this morning, I hadn’t gotten any alone time with you, and you want to spend that time talking to other people?
Tucker: [sigh] Felicity, I’m not trying to be rude. I just--
Felicity: Just what?
Tucker: …You’re right. I…I can always have my other chats tomorrow.
Felicity: Perfect! I knew you would understand! Now, back to your dating history…
Tucker: [in the DR] You don’t have to tell me how stupid a move this was. In the moment, I thought it would be better to not recouple with Tori since I wasn’t feeling anything more than friendship. But compared to Felicity, I would much prefer to still be partnered up with Tori right now. Fe’s the exact type of girl I don’t deal with. How the fuck am I gonna play this one off?
#what do yall think?#will joey be able to woo manny?#who fucking knows with the way these sims move in this house lol#ts4#sims 4#love island challenge#ts4 love island challenge#sims 4 love island challenge#sims of color#colourfullsims#manuela de santa#joey lee darby#tucker clarke#felicity faulk
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since i was a child
before i even understood what it meant to call myself a girl
i was held to a standard i never knew about
to this day i don’t know where it came from or who made it
but if i ever find him (i’m sure they’re a him)
my hands would find his neck
and i’d pass what they would do next
as their “instinct” or “natural order”
but since i was young
before i even knew myself well enough
to know what to call myself
i was told how to look and what to do
i was too young to be teased for having a bit of a tummy
because wasn’t i a child?
weren’t our bodies supposed to be like that?
i was too innocent to be laughed at for the things i said
before i learned to lean into it to prevent the shame, but not the fear
because how could i understand what i was and wasn’t supposed to say?
how was i supposed to know the social stigmata
before i could even spell stigmata?
i had a chest of dress-up things
tucked away in the back of my closet
full of sparkly princess dresses
and glitter-covered plastic heels
with tiaras and crowns
and painful clip-on earrings
because “this is what girls play with”
all the replicas of things from the princess movies
i could never force myself to love
so i used my tooth fairy money
to buy little plastic cars at the dollar store
with wheels that came out of the package sticky on their axle
but then i was always the one out of the loop
playing with toys at my friends’ houses
and no one came to mine
because i never had anything to offer them
that they would truly like
all throughout my youth it seemed
everyone was learning it but me
what to say and what to do
how to look and how to act
in order to be “loved”
my friends became too cruel too quickly
they laughed at me more and more
before i learned to make myself the clown with intention
until eventually they said the real words to my face
i had friends when they needed something
but otherwise i floated
and developed the fear of words behind my back
from faces i knew well
but could not see
the worst thing to happen to youth was the social image
some knew it couldn’t apply to them and that was fine
more knew it couldn’t apply to them and did everything to make it
most knew it couldn’t apply to them and couldn’t make it if they tried
hoodies became girls’ best friends
if diets didn’t
even today the hands of those who’ve lived before me
drag the razor blades over my legs
and under my arms
and across my stomach
my greatest mercy was learning about the l-word
i could finally pin the source of my outcastness on something
i wouldn’t say i ever hated it
but i know it took me time for it to become the home it is to me today
but even then
no one understood it, not where i grew up
so in reality i was ousted further still
some days too nervous to go into the locker room
fearing that my teammates would be scared of me in there
but no one got it better than the women
who used and loved the l-word and the d-word
and i looked up to them more and more
saw myself more and more
i took their looks to my body
i was a walking stereotype
because in my home town
you had to look like you were something
else you were the butt of the joke for other reasons
even worse if you said you were one thing
but never matched the part
i learned that over at least my ten years
even now
when my body and choices are my own
god forbid i add another metal rod through my skin
because then i’ll look like something odd
but i learned about odd from people who used the t-word
and i learned about comfort from those who didn’t use a word at all
i may still act like your token character
but i don’t look like anything in particular anymore
i’m still working on quelling my fear of the voices behind me
but my body is in my own hands and care
and i’ve learned to love her more and more
but not for the reasons the little girl i was might’ve thought
and i keep those other hands far away
from my lip and my chin
i’ll bring the razor there on my own
if only to keep the hair there healthy
— bodily
#something about being raised to a certain beauty standard and learning to love for myself instead#the patron saint of asexual poets#poetry#poem#poems#original poems#original poetry#original poem#original writing#creative writing#poets on tumblr#writers on tumblr#lgbtq poem#lgbtq poetry#lgbtq poet#lgbtq poems
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Jane's Pets Chapter 86: Discovery
TWs in the tags
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Long before Jane took her second and third pets, Puppy holds a sobbing little girl in her arms. A monster, a torturer. A scared little girl.
“All I want is to die.” The girl sobs. “I just want this to end, I want it to stop, why does it never stop?”
She hasn’t given Puppy permission to speak, but she wouldn’t have known what to say anyway.
“I can’t keep doing this! I can’t keep going! But I can’t stop, no matter how much I want to, no matter how many times I play out the same stories and learn the same things and, and-“ Jane trails off into incomprehensible babbling.
Puppy never had any younger siblings, but she imagines this must be what it would feel like, even though Jane is older than her by far. She feels protective and affectionate towards the girl in her arms, even knowing that girl has tortured Puppy endlessly for no reason other than her own entertainment.
“It’ll never stop!” Jane is squeezing Puppy’s arm hard enough to bruise, but for once she doesn’t seem to be causing pain intentionally.
“Say something!”
Puppy sighs. “That sounds really hard.”
Her sobs border on screams. “You’re not helping!”
“What would help?”
“Nothing, nothing, it’ll never get better, it’ll never end!”
Puppy combs fingers through Jane’s hair. “Can… Can you tell me how this happened? How you became like this?”
“It wasn’t my fault! I don’t even know why they picked me!”
“...they?”
Jane sobs. “They took everything from me! I was just a normal kid! I never asked for this!”
It’s likely that this is just some kind of trick to manipulate Puppy in some way. But even knowing that, Puppy can’t help but feel sorry for Jane. “That’s awful.”
“It is!” She sobs and sobs. “And they didn’t even mean to! They meant to hurt me, but not like this! Not even they knew exactly how it would work, how in the world am I supposed to reverse it?? I tried and tried and tried for millenia and nothing works, and no one, not even the people who did it, know how it happened!”
Puppy hums softly. It’s the only thing she can think of to do. “I’ll help you figure something out.”
“Do you think you’re the first mortal to try?? Do you think you can come up with something I couldn’t in centuries!?” Jane squeezes Puppy’s wrist so hard it snaps. White hot pain runs through Puppy’s arm and she tries to pull away, but Jane holds firm. Now they’re both crying.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, you’re right!” Puppy yelps.
Jane keeps squeezing her wrist. “I just want to rest! I just want to sleep, I just want it to end, why won’t it end!? Puppy, I need it to end!”
Puppy just squeezes her eyes shut and tries to get through the pain. There’s nothing she can do to help Jane, nothing at all. She can’t help anyone. She’s struggling to breathe, she’s in agony and even the slightest movements make it worse.
“I hate this, I hate this, make it stop! Puppy, make it stop, please! I’m never going to enjoy being alive again so why won’t it stop??”
She cries and screams and clings to Puppy for hours before the episode ends. It’s a shorter one, all things considered. It isn’t the first and it won’t be the last, though it’s unique in how much coherent information it gave Puppy. Usually, if Jane is speaking in an episode at all instead of just sobbing and screaming, it’s in a language that Puppy doesn’t know. Jane rests on Puppy’s shoulder and plays with her hair. Puppy tries to focus on that sensation rather than the fire in her wrist
“Do you think they would’ve done it if they knew?” Jane asks softly. “If they knew that it would mean an eternity of torment for me, while they only got to experience the rewards of what they did for a lifetime?”
“I don’t know, Jane.” Puppy makes no attempt to keep the pain out of her voice. Maybe Jane forgot about the broken wrist and just needs a reminder.
“I’d like to think that they wouldn’t have done it if they knew. But I don’t know. They probably would’ve. I wish I’d gotten to kill them, but I was still all goody-two-shoes back then.” As she talks, Jane sets Puppy’s wrist and wraps it. It takes everything Puppy has not to scream. “I think if I’d killed them immediately, the spell wouldn’t have stuck. But I guess that’s a useless hypothetical now.”
“...Spell?” Puppy is desperate for any possible distraction to her pain. She’s also really curious about what made Jane like this, even though she also knows Jane could just be fucking with her.
“There’s a balance, to magic. There’s always… a cost. For whatever reason, I was picked out as the cost of this spell. They only knew that I would bear the brunt of the cost of what this spell put into the world. They probably thought it would just kill me, maybe torture me, but not to this extent.” Jane’s voice has taken on an eerie tone. Disconnected, as if she’s telling a story about someone else. But not even that, because Puppy knows how Jane tells stories about other people, and it doesn’t sound like that, either. She just sounds… numb. “I really wish I’d gotten to kill them.”
“What did the spell do?”
“They said it ‘would allow humanity to harness magic.’ Tell me, is that a cause worth sacrificing a child for? Would you have done that to me, Puppy?” Her voice is still eerily emotionless.
“Of course not.”
Jane continues playing with Puppy’s hair for a long time, mumbling about the tortures she wants to inflict on the people who did this to her and how it’s too bad they got to die without ever even feeling a fraction of what they put her through.
Jane’s hands drop to her neck and remove her collar without warning. “No one understands. No one understands what this pain is like. No mortal possibly could.” She yanks on Puppy’s hair and starts pulling her towards the basement. “But I think I’m going to try and make you understand anyway.”
~–~
“So… you tried to kill Puppy?” You ask as you draw a new card. It’s as good a time as any.
Kitty groans. “Yep.”
“...Why?”
“I-” they rub their face. “Jane gave me a knife to hurt Puppy with. Said if I didn’t… something bad would happen. I don’t remember what the threat even was, now. And I thought ‘what if I just slit my throat?’ But then Puppy would’ve been left to deal with the punishment for me doing that. So I thought… ‘what if I just slit her throat?’ So I did. I… I wasn’t thinking straight. I was so tired and in so much pain… I was trying to protect her. I assumed that she would rather be dead because I would rather be dead. It was stupid. Jane… she was really mad. She…” they rub their face again. “I’m so tired, Bunny. Do I have to tell you how she punished me?”
“You don’t have to.” You had been worried it was done in anger- Kitty has mentioned that they hated Puppy when they first met her. But of course Kitty was just trying to protect her, even if it was misguided. “Thanks for telling me what you did.”
Kitty is hiding their face in their hands. “She wanted to make me tell you… and I did…” They sound like they’re on the verge of tears.
You set down your cards- clearly you aren’t going to get to finish the game. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I don’t think any less of you.”
It doesn’t matter. Heartwrenching sobs come from behind Kitty’s hands.
You think you can guess what’s upsetting them. “It’s okay to end up doing what she wants. You’re still you. You’re not weak.”
The sobs get worse. “I’m not still me, I can’t think, who am I?? Who am I if I can’t think? I’m just a kitty! I’m not even human!”
“Hey.” You do your best to keep your voice firm without sounding harsh. “I struggle with the same sorts of things, after my head injury. You wouldn’t call me not human.”
“I don’t feel human.” They correct, still sobbing. “I- I’m not myself, I’m not, I can’t-”
This is a frequent theme when Kitty has these breakdowns. “You’re you. This is just… the version of you you are when you’re drugged.”
“I don’t want to be this version of me!” Kitty’s breathing is getting fast. You said the wrong thing. You hope they won’t hyperventilate until they pass out again… “I’m useless! I’m nothing! I can’t be good, she’s going to put me in sensory deprivation again, she’s going to drug me until I can’t even play simple games-”
“Just breathe. C’mon, in for four, hold for four, out for four, hold for four. There you go.” You need to kill Jane. Then everything will be okay, and Kitty will feel like themself again. “This will pass. You always feel like yourself again eventually.”
“And then I don’t again! And then she drugs me again and again and again and it’ll never stop!”
“It’ll stop. She’ll get bored.” You don’t believe that. But you want Kitty to feel better.
“She said she was bored of me being the bad one!”
“She’ll get bored of this too. C’mon, how about you lie down and try to sleep through the worst of this.” You guide them to their bedroom and nudge them onto their bed. “Do you want me to read to you?”
“I want it to stop, why does it never stop? All I want is for it to stop!”
“Shh… just focus on your breathing. In for four, hold for four…” It’s going to be a long day.
~~
“Aw, aren’t you a good little Kitty-cat?” Master has been hand-feeding Kitty cat food for a while now, cooing about how perfect they are ‘like this.’ Kitty looks like they’re on the verge of screaming, and Bunny doesn’t seem to be faring much better.
Master stops abruptly, tilting her head. “...There’s someone poking around outside. Puppy? Do you want to play guard dog? Go get them.”
Puppy immediately gets to her feet and makes her way to the door. She doesn’t know if she’ll be able to overpower whoever’s out there, so she plans to try and use pity against them. That would be easier if she could talk, but she doesn’t expect master to make anything easy for her.
It doesn’t take long to find the person Master was talking about. Just a quick walk around the perimeter of the house and she finds them, peering into a window. Nowhere near where Master would’ve been able to see them… Puppy was under the impression that Master used her void to see things far away, but apparently she can see things outside her line of sight without using her void. But it doesn’t matter either way. Just more reason she shouldn’t be bad, even when she thinks Master can’t see her.
The stranger gasps when they see her. “Wh- are you-” they stammer.
Puppy is still wearing her muzzle. She lets her hair fall so that her missing ear is obvious. She wore some clothes that showed her scars today, luckily. It shouldn’t be hard at all to get the stranger to pity her enough to follow her.
She walks closer to the stranger and takes their hand, then starts bringing them back to the house. They don’t resist.
“I- let me take that off for you. Who did this?”
Puppy doesn’t answer and keeps moving. Eventually, the stranger stops walking. “Wait, where are we going?”
Puppy tugs on their hand again. Just a little further…
They step forward, but only to reach towards her muzzle. She flinches away. That cannot come off. Not without Master’s permission.
“Okay, okay, I won’t touch it.” The stranger raises their hands in the air. Well, they try to. Puppy doesn’t let go, so it’s pretty awkward. “Let’s just- hey. My name is Jared. Can you hear me?”
Puppy doesn’t respond. It’s a clever approach, to start with something like that, but Puppy won’t fall for it. She won’t let her guard down. She pulls on the stranger more until they start following her again.
“If you can hear me… it’ll be okay. I can help you.”
Puppy pauses outside the door, just for a moment. She is not looking forward to whatever Master has planned. But it doesn’t matter what Puppy wants. She takes Jared into the house.
Jane isn’t there. Of course not. Of course she’s going to make Puppy bring Jared all the way to the basement.
Jared stops again when they see Bunny and Kitty. They regard the two of them suspiciously. “What’s going on here? I… I’ve heard screaming, from this place-” Jared has one hand in their pocket.
Puppy gets the door to the basement open and shoves Jared down the stairs with all of her might. They yelp as they fall, but don’t seem to be severely injured by the time they reach the bottom. Puppy secretly wishes they’d broken their neck.
Master waits at the bottom of the stairs. “You come down here too, Puppy.”
Puppy obeys. Master is looking over Jared. “What were you doing poking around my house?”
Jared seems very confused. They reach into their pocket again. “Wha- who-”
Master cuts them off with a knife in the offending arm. Jared screams.
“Puppy, darling, do you want to help me interrogate the intruder?”
Puppy does not want that at all. But she nods, because she knows that’s what Master wants her to do.
Master grins. “Excellent. Restrain them first. You can pick what we use.” Master starts making things appear out of her void. Some rope, some chains, some… barbed wire. Puppy suppresses a shudder and picks out the chains.
“Wait- wait, what are you doing?” Jared is starting to realize that they cannot help Puppy. They look completely terrified. “I was just taking a walk- I won’t tell anyone what I saw, I swear!” They say some words Puppy doesn’t understand and throw powder in the air.
The world goes dark and Puppy can’t hear a thing.
She swings a chain in the direction of the last place she saw Jared. It makes contact, and she feels them collapse to the ground. She swings again. Again and again and again, until electricity surges through her collar and she drops to her knees, writhing in pain silently no matter how much she wants to scream- she knows that will make the shocks worse. And she wouldn’t be able to hear her own screams anyway.
The electricty stops and she gasps for air. She was bad. She doesn’t know what she did wrong yet, but she wouldn’t have gotten shocked if she was being good. She wants to look to Master, to figure out what she might’ve done wrong, but she still can’t see or hear.
This is like what Bunny’s friend did with the force field. Like what Jane does when she teleports and watches things from her void. Puppy is really not a fan of magic. The force field wore off eventually, right? She really hopes this will too. Master might just kill her if she can’t hear or see her, and she doesn’t want Kitty or Bunny to have to deal with Jane without her to protect them.
Puppy sits nicely like a good pet while she waits for the spell to wear off. This is awful. She’s completely defenseless at the best of times, but this? It’s in its own category altogether. At least when she’s blinded and deafened as punishment she knows why and that it’ll eventually stop. This… she really hates this.
It feels like hours later when she starts to hear and see little scraps of information again. The spell won’t last forever, thankfully.
As soon as she can make out anything at all, she’s looking for her Master.
“Coming back to me, Puppy?” A hand pets her hair. Her vision continues to gain more detail. “I bet you’re really looking forward to interrogating them now, huh?”
She isn’t, but she nods anyway.
“Well? Go and restrain them for me.”
Jared is lying on the ground, horribly battered. Puppy stumbles over to them, then wraps their wrists and ankles in chains and drags them to one of the many hooks on the wall. Master doesn’t seem upset. Why’d she shock her, then?
“Good girl. Now… you can’t really interrogate if you can’t speak, can you? Kneel.”
Puppy drops to her knees immediately and tries not to get her hopes up. Even if she’s given permission to speak, she won’t be able to use her voice to comfort Kitty or Bunny or even Jared.
Master gently starts loosening the straps keeping the muzzle on Puppy’s face, exposing the pressure sores beneath. Jared is frantically begging or something, but Puppy focuses on the relief of her face being free. She can focus on the relief, just for a moment…
Master gets her remote and adjusts something. Hopefully so that Puppy won’t be shocked if she speaks. “There we go. You have permission to speak. I need you to find out why the intruder came here. Can you do that?”
Puppy hums softly to test if she’ll be shocked. When she isn’t, she clears her throat and tries to decide what to say. Master and her both know perfectly well that torture isn’t a good interogation technique, and they also both know that torture is what Master wants to see.
“I can definitely get an answer. It may not be the right answer, though.” Puppy settles on. She hopes that Master is in a good enough mood to be happy with that answer. Not that it matters. If she wasn’t in a good mood, pretending that she definitely could get a correct answer wouldn’t please Master either.
Master laughs. “While you interrogate our new friend, I’m going to be in my void and out and about gathering information. We can compare what I find to whatever answer you manage to get and see if they match up. Sound good?”
“Yes, Master.” Talking is hard after so long of being silent, but it feels really nice. Master gets some weapons out of her void and arranges them neatly for Puppy, then disappears.
Puppy picks out the cattle prod and jams it into Jared’s neck. “Why were you snooping around?”
She doesn’t want to do this. She hates this. But Master could be watching, and she knows what Master wants to see. She needs to try to please Master, not try to get away with causing the least amount of pain while still following what Master said. There’s no point in trying to get around it, no point in mercy. She isn’t responsible for what she does under Master’s command, anyway, she’s just a tool to be used.
“Hey, hey- I told you, I was just going for a walk!”
Puppy presses the cattle prod’s button. Holds it for five seconds, making the intruder writhe and scream, then lets go. “You were looking in the window when I found you. Do you make a habit of looking in stranger’s windows when you go for walks?”
The stranger gasps for air. “...yes?”
She holds it for ten seconds this time. The intruder jerks violently in their chains. When she lets go, they look into her eyes desperately. “You don’t want to do this. I know you don’t want to do this. I can get you out of here.”
“You can’t. You’re going to die here, Jared. Your only choice now is how painful it will be. So tell me- what in the world made you decide to snoop around a place like this?”
A/N: Let me know if I should tag anything else, or if you want to be added to or removed from the tag list! (I think I remember someone asking but I forgot who!) Thank you for your patience through the hiatus!
Tag list: @eatyourdamnpears @whump-in-the-closet @scp-1296 @thecosmicmap @quins-whump-stuff
#whump#whump writing#whumpblr#intimate whumper#creepy whumper#nonhuman whumper#multiple whumpees#pet whump#whumpee#whumper#caretaker#2nd person pov#3rd person pov#minor whump tw#torture tw#broken bones tw#disscussion of torture tw#drugging tw#electrocution tw#muzzle tw#jane’s pets
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Chapter Eight (Part 2)
The thing I simultaneously love and hate about St. Stephen’s night is that you get to see everyone you’ve ever known on the streets of your hometown. There’s the kids you knew in primary school, the girls from your swimming club, your 5th year maths teacher, everyone and anyone you’ve encountered in your life is somewhere among the heaving crowds of one hopping pub or the other, and if everyone has had enough to drink they might even feel moved to speak to each other.
Claire and I squeeze into a pub that we frequented a lot during 6th year and the moment we’re inside I know that finding a seat will be a rare chance. People are everywhere and the sound is utterly cacophonous. She reaches for my hand and together we wrestle through the crowd and eventually find ourselves spit out into the smoking area where there’s a tiny corner of space just enough for us to squeeze into. Claire takes out her phone and immediately starts tapping out a message.
“For Shane.” She explains. “He’s already here… somewhere.” Sure enough within moments he appears holding three pints in his hands with the skill and precision of an Oktoberfest beer maid. He holds his laden hands out to me and when I hesitate unsure what to do he says “The middle one there, grab the middle one off me.” I gingerly slip it out of his hands and then he gives the other one to Claire along with a kiss on the forehead.
“Heineken?” I whine when I realise what he’s given me. “I hate Heineken.”
“Don’t drink it then.” He rolls his eyes. “Here, give it back, I’ll have it.”
“No.” I say, holding it out of his reach, because far be it from me to deny free beer. “It’s fine, I’ll suffer through it.”
“You’re such a baby.”
I give him the finger as I take a drink from my pint, not enjoying one moment of it and Claire sighs impatiently. “You two.” she says. “You act like children, did you know that?”
“No, Evie does.” Shane rebuttals, which makes me snort.
“You’re way worse.”
“Nah.”
“Yes! I’ll never forgive you for pelting me with stones in your driveway. You were such a bold child.”
“Ah yeah, like ten years ago.”
“You wish you still could sometimes.” I say gleefully. “You get the same look on your face whenever I’m annoying you. Like right now! I know you would if you could. Go on, grab a handful of gravel, there.”
“You’d swear you were actual siblings.” Claire drawls, and Shane pulls a horrible face at me that makes me want to burst out laughing. He really has been the closest thing to a brother that I’ve ever had, just like Kelly used to feel like a sister to me sometimes, but if someone had told me just two years ago that I’d be closer to him than I was to her I wouldn’t have believed them. When I remember Kelly I get a terrible, sick feeling inside and I wonder to myself whether she’s here tonight. I find myself scanning quickly over the crowd for a sign of her, but there isn’t one. Feeling more subdued all of a sudden, I go back to drinking my pint.
I’m only an hour into the night when I realise I am not there to actually enjoy myself and catch up with old acquaintances. At one moment as I tussle into the bar for the fourth time I realise that I am there to get drunk, extremely, mind altering drunk so that I can forget about the shambles of my Christmas and get to a point that I’m too incoherent to keep repeating the same lie to people about how I had a nice time with my family, and pretend that I didn’t spend it sulking in bed while the rest of them played awkward scrabble downstairs next to my dad who was passed out in an armchair by five o’clock.
Uncle Sean gave me a hundred euro for Christmas, but after about an hour I’ve whittled it down by half, and I’m sure by the end of the night the rest of it will be spent too. At a certain point I give up on pints, which are just making me need to pee every fifteen minutes, and make the switch to spirits. I order another two whiskeys and fill them up with ginger ale and then I go and stand with a group of people who I knew in school so that I don’t appear to be drinking alone. They’re talking about something that I find boring. Every conversation I’ve dipped into tonight has been boring and I wonder if it really is true what people in Dublin say about those from the country, that it’s all shallow, dull conversation that either centres around sports or their family’s farm. A girl next to me is recycling some gossipy story about someone from school that I heard two years ago and at that point I can’t stand it anymore. I down both whiskies one after another and slink off to find something else to do.
“Woah, slow down there Evie.” I hear one of them say as I turn away and they all laugh. I’m already reaching that dizzy, double vision stage of drunkenness and I welcome it openly, allowing the numbing drowsiness to envelop me wholly and feel my coordination lapse. I don’t want to think anymore.
At some point I find myself back at the bar, and I stand and wait for what feels like eternity as the barmen ignore me continuously. I reach out my hand as one of them comes close “Sorry there, can I get-” He serves the person behind me instead. I find the barstool behind my legs and slump into it hoping that it might anchor me a bit as the room starts to tilt.
“Gin and tonic, please.” There is a familiar voice beside me and I turn my head to see a fuzzy version of Kelly standing nearby. I wonder if she’s seen me yet. Her features are moving around her face in front of my eyes, but I know it’s her. She looks different with her hair straightened and I kind of want to tell her that. I also don’t want her to be angry with me anymore, and I see this as a good moment to start that conversation.
“Kelly.” I say, and she snaps around to look at me. It must be the first time we’ve made eye contact in a year. “Hi.” I say, and I can see her mouth tighten into a thin line as she hands her debit card to the barman. She says nothing to me.
I try again and I reach out to touch her arm and am aware of how sweaty my hand is against her smooth skin. She flinches away immediately, eyes blazing. “What do you want?” I drop my hand onto my lap pathetically. “I wanted to say hello.”
“The state of you.” She retorts. “I wouldn’t be seen in public hanging over a bar pissed drunk like that.” I can tell she wants to leave but the bartender is still making her drink so she can’t. She starts looking at the exit, over my shoulder for someone else to talk to, anything to get away from this conversation I’ve roped her into. It makes me feel unbearably sad.
“Why do you always run away from me?” I say miserably. “You never want to talk about why we aren’t friends.”
“There isn’t anything to say.”
“It’s not fair, you can’t just walk away from it all. I didn’t do anything wrong-”
“You were an awful friend.” She cuts in. “Hanging out with you was fucking shit, alright?”
“Not always.” I say, offended, and then she ignores me and takes out her phone to scroll through it as a last resort. I feel like I’m going to start crying as the gravity of it all comes crashing over me. How we were so close for so many years, we shared everything with each other, I know everything about this girl and yet we’re strangers now. It makes my heart feel like it’s breaking.
With a last ditch effort, I attempt to compliment her. “Your hair is nice like that.” I say, and I reach out to touch it, only she doesn’t hear me, and as she flinches away from me in alarm some of it gets tangled in my rings and I end up yanking it.
She makes a horrified, furious face. “Ouch!” She exclaims, and I see her eyes blaze, wide with disbelief as she holds onto the part of her scalp that I wrenched. “Did you just pull my hair?”
“No!” I start to protest, but there are murmurs in the crowd around us. I look over my shoulder and two girls are whispering about me while someone else is shaking their head. Kelly steps in closer to me, leaning over a barstool so that we’re almost nose to nose. “You’re a bitch.” She hisses. “Go fucking die.” She takes someone’s warm, discarded pint off the bar and throws it over my top and I cry out in shock. Everyone is looking, everyone is laughing, and then something terrible happens to me.
I start to get angry. Really angry.
I lash out at her before I can stop myself, and my hands shove her arms away from me, sending the pint glass straight to the floor where it shatters into smithereens, then I lunge towards her and shove her into the crowd of men behind her. “You’re a bitch!” I shriek. She looks like she’s going to murder me then, and comes, coming at me with her hands clawing at the air and her face contorted like a wild animal. As time slows down I ask myself, am I really about to get into a fist fight with Kelly? I’m bracing myself for her nails on me when I am yanked from the scene with violent speed, and all of a sudden Shane is in my face instead.
“What is wrong with you?” He’s shouting, and the ferocity in his voice brings startled tears to my eyes. I don’t know what to say. He’s holding me by my upper arms and squeezing me and it hurts but I don’t dare say anything about it. “Get outside.” He kicks open a side door and throws me outside into an alley filled with used beer kegs and plastic crates. My legs almost give out underneath me and I stumble backwards into the wall.
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#sims#sims 4#ts4#simlit#sims 4 story#sims story#writing#fiction#romance#sims 4 storytelling#sims4 storytelling#sims storytelling#lucky girl part 2
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