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lolmyeyebags · 4 years

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Tempting. But nah, I’m good. Unless? ;)

Summary: You find yourself attempting to swindle a witch. Naturally, it doesn’t work out and she casts a curse on you. How were you supposed to solve this curse before seven days?

Warnings: No smut but it’s basically an intro to a smut series; a prompt?

Word Count: 5,538

A/N: Oneshot? Series? We’ll find out in the next episode of-

Ao3 Link

This is her place, right? You’re sure this is the place you agreed to meet up on. You’ve double checked, no, triple checked your messages with the witch you met on bledit, Tituba. You’ve been to her house before but never in the dark. With your paranoia, you could only imagine how mortifying it would be if you were to arrive in a random demon or witch’s home, knocking on their door, and possibly being eaten or roasted alive. According to her message, you were at the correct destination... which was in the outskirts of the devildom, in the middle of the night.

At least, it felt like nighttime. Since the devildom had no sun - excluding Lord Diavolo’s private beach - your body had to adapt to the climate change and learned to tell time in a different way, and by that it meant you relied on your gut feeling and occasionally, checked the time on your DDD.

The gravel crunched and shuffled with each step you took, and with each step, your gnawing anxiety grew stronger. Please, there’s no way this is the wrong house. Although, maybe it was since it was pitch black and you were a powerless human in the night - ok - get a grip.

You know, maybe this wasn’t your brightest idea. I mean, what if you died in the most embarrassing way? What if a creature of Devildom decided to make you their food, feed you to their offspring, and leave your naked and mutilated body to be found. That’s just… no, you’d rather not think about that. You'd simply pass away if you let yourself die looking crusty as fuck.

Though, you wouldn't have found yourself in your little nighttime adventures if you'd just get a grip and master lucid dreaming the normal way. If you just had enough patience and practiced in a neat and timely routine, you would’ve mastered lucid dreaming and the ability to shift into your ‘desired reality’ as those clickclock creators instructed.

But who were you kidding? You know your dumb ass could never have the patience and consistency to do that. That’s like, some normie type of shit. And you? A whole ‘nother breed. Those foolish little clickclock creators have no idea that you were basically y/n and have a main character complex. What? Don’t look at me like that, me. We’re built? Different.

“Lucid dreaming isn’t that hard, it requires patience and understanding, yeah right,” you mocked the various clickclock creators and sent a pebble flying to a pile of rocks. “Stupid clickclock, stupid lucid dreaming, stupid hard and unobtainable 2d waifus and husbandos.”

All you wanted was to lucid dream once! Just once is enough. You wanted to open you eyes to an animated world and see your beloved 2D characters materialize right before you. Of course, you know it wasn’t all that possible to do in real life. I mean, if even the hardcore otaku himself hasn’t managed such a feat, how could you - the lowly human - accomplish what Mr. The Lord of Shadows couldn’t do for centuries?

And yeah, he’s the Lord of Shadows alright. If you learned anything from your writepod addiction in middle school, it’s the ability to spot a poorly disguised fan fiction based off of celebrities in real life from a mile away. Although, it did surprise you to find that the great author of the legendary TSL series was THE Simeon himself.

I mean, Simeon? Hello? The holiest of angels? That was a shocker.

OOF! You face planted into something soft, almost like a jello cup you’d eat in the summer. You were snapped out of your thoughts as you fell on the prickly leaves, ass first.

“Oh, what the fuck?” You balled your hands into fists and attempted to rub the disorientation away, and standing at a good 6’10” was quite possibly the tallest being you’ve ever laid your eyes on - and the most amusing to make fun of.

The witch fixed her gaze onto you, “you’re late.”

You felt a swirl of emotions wash over you. I wonder how you were going to torment her into casting a lucid dreaming spell on you. Or better yet, have her teach you how to shift realities with her witchy powers. Oh! Or even better, blackmail her into sending you off into a parallel universe in which your favorite anime are real and you were the all mighty ruler of that world, giving you the powers to switch dimensions and warp your realities with a snap of your fingers.

A grin tugged at your lips, “what’re yOu looking at Cocksucker69?”

The witch, Tituba, pressed her lips into a tight lipped smile and hissed, “I thought I told you to not refer to me as that, xXdiavoloismybitchXx.”

“I—“

“Did you forget what followed after you endeavored to bring me humiliation in public? Forget the way those demons turned around, their jaws slack with shock as I uttered your bledit username, exposing you as bledit’s most notorious troller, and all of your-“

“YES! I mean no! No, I haven’t forgotten. You right, my bad,” you shivered at the memory and shook your head.

It was as if it happened yesterday, because it did. It wasn’t the wide array of emotions the demons bore that bothered you. It was the fact Tituba emphasized your username, while you were in the entrance of RAD, no less!

You were one of the two only human exchange students and that made you quite a celebrity in the school. The demons knew that! They weren’t fools. Your username probably struck a cord that inspired a string of gossip and rumors to spread, that would no doubt reach Diavolo. You couldn’t bear the thought of reliving the wave - no, tsunami - of embarrassment that washed over you. No, it felt more like it drowned you. Like damn, that witch really had it out for you!

“Right so,” with a cheshire grin, you prod her arm with your elbow, “where were we?”

She groaned in exasperation.

“Child, you are accelerating my expiration,” the witch brought two fingers and pinched the space between her eyebrows, smoothing out her wrinkles, no doubt caused by you.

“I’ll behave this time, I swear! Scout’s honor!”

“Despite my knowing of my inevitable regret, I’m obligated to continue,” the witch pushed her door open and ushered you in. You stepped inside and a fresh crisp breeze licked at your cheeks. You sighed in content, welcoming the verdant ambiance of Tituba’s cottage.

The lace of your shoes became undone in a second, and in the next, you soared in the air and flopped unceremoniously on Tituba’s sex pit. It wasn’t an actual sex pit though. It was simply an indentation on the wooden floor that Tituba renovated into a conversation pit, which turned into her designated sleeping area, thanks to your persistence.

Pillows, throw pillows, plushies, fluffy blankets - if you had to choose a place to sleep for eternity, it would be Tituba’s sex pit. Your eyes widened in delight as it settled on the long shape of the body pillow you gifted Tituba as an apology gift… After you fell against her cauldron she was using to ferment blood moon water. It spilled all over the floor and became ‘unclean’ as she called it.

“Oh!!! The Barbatos body pillow I gifted you! I knew you still love me! You tsundere simp, you~!”

Tituba met your waggling eyebrows with an unamused stare. “Get to the point, MC.”

Just the slightest, you dipped your head, narrowed your eyes, and put on the biggest smirk you could manage - your signature Robbie Rotten face you always wore as you plan to blackmail her.

———♦︎———♦︎———♦︎———

Yeah, the transactions weren’t as smooth as you thought it would be. Sure, maybe you tried to manipulate Tituba via sabotaging her date who she was talking to through the cinder app. Well, you didn’t try, you succeeded. And as a result, you were put under a supposedly ‘excruciating’ curse that even Solomon himself couldn’t break. ’Supposedly.’

“Heed my words, MC. If you are unable to find salvation by the seventh day, you will meet your demise, devoured by a great and powerful hellfire, subject to—“

“Yuh, I’ma dip, I have to binge my new anime I’ve been obsessed with - bungee street cats - peach out!”

———♦︎———♦︎———♦︎———

What type of curse, spell, whatever it was, was it though? You couldn’t help but ruminate over Tituba’s warning.

...

Nah, she’s just playing with me. She’d never! Right? Even if it was a curse, a prank if you will, what would it be? Were you cursed to break out? An irrational fear of yours you shared with her? Is is that you fear you’d be subject to an embarrassing sequence of events that’d take you out? Fuck, if it was something embarrassing, you’d simply pass away. You had enough with the second hand embarrassment you got from awkward anime characters. You weren’t about to live through your own embarrassment. That was just... too cruel.

Nothing strange or unusual has been happening so far. It was just the normal you, the pure, selfless maiden going on about her life with the seven demon brothers. Sure, it should’ve made you feel better but it only unnerved you even more. Fuck! What exactly was the curse? Maybe you shouldn’t have cut her off and dipped. You felt a thin layer of sweat slowly creep up and you brought a hand up to fan your face. Damn, was it hot in here or was it just your wet ass pussy?

♪ Yeah, yeah, yeah. Yeah, you fucking with some wet ass pussy. Bring a bucket and a mop for this wet ass pussy. Give me- ♪

You were snapped out of your thoughts when a firm grip made contact with your shoulders.

A strangled cry left your lips as you doubled over. Fiery ropes of erotism enveloped your body. It was as if every nerve, every vein in your body was coursing with raw pleasure. You felt a blush come over not just your cheeks but your entire body as you locked eyes with the classroom that you disrupted with your lewd… sound.

The professor coughed and proceeded to point to the diagram of a demon, angel, and human anatomy, explaining what the three species have in common and what they don’t.

Your bottom lip sought comfort in being chewed by your teeth. With your head hung and your hair slightly covering your face, you followed the hand on your shoulder to its owner.

My, just how mortifying could it get? It was fucking Simeon. His cheeks were dusted pink and his lips were caught in an ‘o’ and his eyes were filled with surprise, then worry.

“Simeon, I,” your eyes were downcast, refusing to meet his gaze, “I-I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s come over me.”

What the fawk. This is the worst day ever. Now the image of a little lamb you assumed Simeon had for you would be replaced by a horny, hormone monster.

Stupefied, Simeon sat still, staring at you.

Fuck! This is so awkward! I should probably explain that I didn’t mean to release a porn star moan just because he touched my shoulder! I mean, he’s an angel and this is just the worst fucking thing oh my gosh...

And with that, your dumb ass found yourself rambling to Simeon in great, excessive detail of your meeting with Tituba. Even going as far to expose your usernames and directly quoting yourself and that wretched witch.

“Oh my,” he lifted your chin with his fingers and you stiffened, resisting the urge to sing a song of the pleasure that coursed through you. He frowned and studied the way you reacted to his touch. He probably didn’t intend to almost send you into your first orgasm buuuut hot damn. Please, Simeon, stop being so breathtaking with your exposed shoulders.

Hold up. Shoulders? What the hell, just how far did you fall? You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain and you became the villain. You were literally a prime example of why dress code conduct in the human realm prohibited shoulders from being shown in school. Who would’ve thought?

“Not to worry, MC, counseling little lambs in their times of need is our job, after all.”

Fuck, why is he such a gentleman. You felt like putty from his touch alone and your thighs found itself squeezing together as a response to his touch.

“S-Simeon, please,” you grit your teeth and muster all of your willpower to not moan. Continuing with your impromptu explanation, you say, “it’s just, whenever I find myself bumping into anyone, it feels almost uncomfortably good. Like, pleasurable? I don’t know how to explain it but,” your chewed on your lip. “I don’t know how it came to that considering I’m literally as pure as anyone could get but I feel extremely overcome with lust for some reason.”

A husky timbre sang in your ear. “Oh? Is that so?”

Fuck. No no no! You hit back the urge to moan and doubled over in your seat, balling your hands into fists in an attempt to regain yourself.

Who-? Who fuck is this evil? You come back to your seated position and find yourself face to face with Solomon. His eyes were twinkling with pure mischief.

How in the world did you forget that Solomon sat right next to you? Directly to your left, no less. How much did he hear? Knowing him, he probably noticed your state of distress and took full advantage of it, listening in on everything you ranted to Simeon.

“Ah,” he stifled back his laughter, “so you weren’t kidding?”

You pressed your lips together in a tight line, bringing your hand up and preparing to smack a bitch until you realized you’d probably double over again from the skin to skin contact. “Ugh, you’re lucky I can’t strangle you.”

Well, you’re fucked.

“Aww, you shouldn’t be like that, MC!” Solomon brought a hand up to his chest and frowned. “After all, since a powerful witch like Tituba put you under a curse, you’d benefit from having The Greatest Sorcerer on your side.”

You groaned and slid down your chair, covering your face in equal parts shame and annoyance - only for Solomon, of course. Simeon, however, deserves the whole world.

“Little lamb, I think you should head over to the House of Lamentation early,” Simeon advised. You met his sympathetic gaze and felt a wave of relief wash over you. Truly, he was an angel.

“Can I really do that?”

“I’ll walk you over to the nurse’s office if you’re scared,” Solomon cooed. His lips brushed against the shell of your left ear and his fingers strummed along the small of your back.

“F-Fuck,” you whisper screamed and clutched your body, as if you were holding yourself down from the oncoming shockwaves his mere actions brought upon you.

———♦︎———♦︎———♦︎———

You found yourself in the common room, back at the House of Lamentation. You sat down on the rightmost part of a loveseat, welcoming the warmth of the fireplace and the sound of wood snapping and cracking against the fire. Fucking Solomon. That sneaky rat bastard. Who gave him the audacity to act like Hugh Hefner, when at best, motherfucker was Voldemort.

It was a wonder how you got here safely, really. Considering that you weren’t the best at keeping yourself composed when you were under pressure. Maybe you were born with it? Maybe it’s Maybelline.

Ding! Your DDD vibrated against your back pocket. Shame coursed through you as heat pooled in between your legs. Even from that? Really? To think you were acting more like a crusty, musty, virgin than Levi.

Who was it that texted you this time? Your face fell as you read the banner on your DDD.

Solomon.

Great, you wonder what he has planned for you this time. Taking a deep breath, you click on the notification.

———♦︎———♦︎———♦︎———

Solomon: This is so funny. Guess what kind of curse you’re under.

MC: ...MF. Get on with it!!!

Solomon: It’s a fucking curse of temptation, charged with eros.

MC: ...

Solomon: ...

MC: Say sike rn. Please. I’m begging you.

Solomon: Then beg.

MC: ...

Solomon: LMAO

MC: You can break it right?! It’s just a fucking horny curse. It doesn’t seem that complicated

Solomon: Stupid hoe. Did you not pay attention to Unit 1 of Incantations?

MC: TF?? Who do you take me for? That was like the first week I was abducted. Ofc I was tryna convince myself I was just high or something or like I was in a weird ass dream

Solomon: ...Well, the simpler and more direct a curse is, the harder it is to break. Obviously, complicated curses are more susceptible to flaws and mistakes. And it’s just your luck because the curse Tituba placed you under is lined with malicious intent.

Solomon: Didn’t you say she only spoke a single sentence when she cast her spell on you?

MC: Oh fuck.

Solomon: LOL! Literally. I could break it in a day or two if it was any other witch. But this is Tituba we’re talking about.

MC: Her breed? Different >:)

Solomon: ...

MC: Ok! I’m sorry. Please, go on oh great and powerful one.

Solomon: Hold on, I’ve only just figured out what type of curse you’re under. Give me a few hours and I’ll head over there and explain it to you once I’ve solved it.

MC: MAKE IT QUICK. IF THE BROTHERS FIND OUT, I’M GOING TO PASS AWAY FROM EMBARRASSMENT

Solomon: dO YOU WANT ME TO SOLVE IT OR NOT?

MC: I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please, take your time oh, Solomon the Wise. But come quick! Please

———♦︎———♦︎———♦︎———

“LOL! You’ll never guess what happens in chapter 22 of Being An Old Man, I Thought It Was Too Late For Me To Have Kids With My Wife Sarah But God Blessed Me A Son!”

“You wouldn’t dare! I haven’t reached that part yet! You wouldn’t use such dirty tactics to distract me.”

“Abraham has to sacrifice his-“

“NOOO!”

“Levi, MC, please,” Satan sighed and lowered his book, meeting your sheepish grin and Levi's scoff with an unamused stare.

The common room was full of life. Satan sat right across from you, engrossed in another one of his nerdy books and Asmo sat beside him, humming a tune as he painted his nails - for like, the third time this week. Mammon sat right next to him, fixed on his DDD. You could barely make out the layout of the akuzon app. Stupid mammon, he’s already on another online shopping spree despite having more frozen bank accounts that even Lucifer himself could count.

Speaking of Lucifer, you turn your gaze to him as he sat on the armchair, smack down in the middle of the two loveseats right across from each other. He just came back from another meeting with Diavolo and was sorting through his papers.

What in the name of Christopher Gray... how could one man look that stunning after being holed up in a meeting for five hours. Your dumb ass would step out of the meeting looking like you haven’t washed your hair in years.

Beel sat to the left of Levi. He chewed on a stick of bat jerky and was watching some video on his DDD - probably about working out or food - and Belphie laid by himself, curled up right in front of the fireplace with his head resting on his cow pillow, knocked out cold. Or well, knocked out warm.

It was almost strange how calm the ambiance was. You felt a spike of anxiety churn at your stomach. Why do you feel like something bad is going to happen?

“Hey, pay attention normie! I’m about to beat your high score in subway swimmers!” Levi stick his tongue out in concentration, deft fingers swiping away at obstacles and collecting grimm as he ran away from the kraken security guardian.

“Oh no! NOOO!” You clutch your DDD, just in time to watch your character collide with a bed of coral. Your face fell at the words displayed on the screen. ‘Save me!’

“No, I ran out of keys,” you groan and threw your DDD at Levi, crossing your arms.

“The only reason you’ve been able to keep up with me all this time is because of all the money you’ve spent on keys, MC!”

“Hey!” You scoff, “you’re making me feel like Mammon!”

“Oi! I don’t spend that much money!”

Without missing a beat, Satan quips back, “Only because Lucifer confiscated Goldie from you - again.”

Beel nodded his head. He took the last bite of his bat jerky and hummed in agreement.

Ding! Dong!

Lucifer raises an eyebrow, “Who’s at the door?”

Shit. You forgot how the brothers don’t exactly hold Solomon in the highest regards.

Nervously laughing, you answered him, “Ah, that would be Solomon.”

Feeling his scrutinizing gaze, you look up and lock eye contact with Lucifer. His eyes narrowed and you feel yourself growing hot under his gaze. Not that he was turning you on, no. You never liked this kind of attention on you. I mean, who’d openly like to get gawked at?

As if answering your question, Asmodeus gives you a playful smile. “Oh? Solomon? I didn’t know you two were close.”

“Uhh, well, it’s-“

“Oh! Solomon! I’ll get the door!” Levi snapped out of his trance and pressed pause on his game. Thank goodness Levi and Solomon bonded over TSL. You couldn’t imagine any other brothers welcoming him inside if it weren’t for his connection to Levi.

Belphie began to stir from the commotion. He brought himself up to a sitting position, rubbing his eyes. “What’s going on?” He yawned.

“MC.”

You turned your attention to Lucifer who looks more daddy than ever. His arms were crossed and his eyebrows were pressed together in disapproval. His frown was only the cherry on the top. “Would you care to explain why you invited Solomon over?”

Fuck. Please stop being such an alpha male for once. Images of his physique towering over yours flooded your mind. His hands would pin yours right above your head, rendering your arms useless, and his strong legs would encase you in a cage like hold. Then, him being Lucifer, would say something clever and sensual at the same time, and you'd melt under his gaze.

Wait. UGH! Snap out of it!

You opened your mouth to respond to him when Solomon beats you to it.

“I’ve figured out the exact curse MC has been afflicted with,” and with a smirk, “and how to relieve her of it.”

Shit. Oh shit. He really wants to watch the world burn, huh? You grimaced, bracing yourself for the onslaught of questions from the demon brothers.

Satan’s glare directed at Solomon disappears and is replaced with concern, “a curse?”

“No! It’s not fair! You’re supposed to be my Henry for all of eternity! You can't be cursed!”

“Hey MC! Just what kinda things have ya been up to? I’m s’posed to be protecting you, ya hear?”

“Poor MC! She looks so stressed! That's sooo not good for your skin!”

“Can’t she just sleep it off?”

“MC,” Beel frowned and you returned his concerned expression with a small smile.

Lucifer slammed his hands on the coffee table, it was like thunder just went off inside of the house. “Enough!” His brows were bunched together in a glare and his arms were crossed. “Solomon, would you care to explain the kind of curse MC is under and who the identity of the caster is?”

Your jaw fell slack and you gave Solomon your best ‘please no’ stare you could muster. Your hands were collected in front of you like a prayer.

Solomon only smiled and a chill ran up your spine. That’s not how a smile is supposed to look. No, a real smile would be if your eyes shrank, forming half crescent moons, with wrinkles in the corners. No way. Was he really…?

“If you don’t mind, Lucifer, I’d like to get MC’s approval before continuing.”

Confusion. Yeah, that’s the best way to describe how the brothers reacted. Complete and utter confusion.

———♦︎———♦︎———♦︎———

She signed defeatedly, “fine. Do your worst.”

Is that idiot really going to tempt me into unleashing as much chaos as I could possibly muster? Which is… a lot. I mean, I am known as The Great Sorcerer.

Though, she looks so tempting when she’s so defeated - so small and weak, pathetic, even - it only brings me more amusement. Now, I wonder what route I’m going to choose this time. Should I play as the devious sorcerer? The kindhearted and forgiving human friend of MC? Who am I kidding? Both! Yeah, that wasn’t even a question. I almost laughed out loud. Man, I really am a genius.

I cleared my throat, unwavering as I felt the collective gaze of the demon brothers fall upon my being. And a lustier one from emanating from Asmodeus. No surprise there.

Choose your words carefully, Solomon. You gotta be on her side.

“MC has been afflicted with a curse of temptation, charged with eros, by Tituba the witch. It’ll continue to affect her over the course of seven days, subjugating her to extreme heat that will boil her from the inside out lest she finds relief. She has until the clock strikes midnight on the seventh day.”

Perfect.

A furious blush cascaded over Mammon’s features. He was the first to break the silence. “O-Oi! You’re kidding right?”

“Wah!” Asmo crooned. He gave MC a half-lidded smile. “My my! Now isn’t this a wonderful turn of events~!”

Satan elbowed Asmo on his side. “That’s enough with the teasing, Asmo,” he lectured.

“Oh, don’t give me that, Satan, those bright red cheeks of yours aren't fooling anyone.”

“A-Asmo!”

“Whoa! This is just like the anime I’ve been watching! I Attempted To Manipulate A Great And Powerful Witch And Now I’ve Been Cursed And The Only Way I Can Break Out Of It Is For Me To Kiss The One I love!”

Beel gave Levi a frown, shaking his head at his antics despite the pink that dusted his features.

A glee of joy overcame me as I watched everything unfold. Lucifer looked as if his eyes were about to pop out of its sockets. He was torn between maintaining his stunned gaze onto me or onto MC, whose probably attempting to curl up into a ball at this point.

———♦︎———♦︎———♦︎———

Y’know what, I really am going to smack a bitch. And by that, I mean Solomon and how that sneaky bastard carefully chose his words to bring forth a reaction like… well, like this.

You were so engrossed by the chorus of reactions harmonizing with each other, and focused on morphing into a ball of shame, you almost forgot about Belphie. That was, until he placed his hand on your calf, coaxing you out of your ball. He gave you a kind and sympathetic gaze. His lips were set in a small frown, his eyebrows downcast.

It happened in only a few seconds. You were filled with equal parts horror and pleasure because he didn’t know that simple touches like this could affect you to such a degree. Couldn’t blame him though, he was the only brother that didn’t react in such an inappropriate way to your predicament. And he didn’t even seem amused by it at all.

You, however, well... His warm touch, placed on your calf only sent you into overdrive. “N-No! Don’t touch me!” The absolute lewdest, cry - followed by a moan - escaped your lips. Your body shivered and as if on cue, an overwhelmingly hot fire washed over you. A deep, unyielding fire. It fucking sent you, and the brothers.

“Ah,” Solomon laughed, “I may have forgot to mention that during this period, MC’s senses will be hightened tenfold. If not, possibly more. I figured that’s what the extreme heat stood for and this just proved me right.”

“F-Fuck,” you breathed. Shit, fucking get a grip, MC! You’re in the middle of the brothers and stinky Solomon who’s thriving off of your suffering. Scowling, you sent him a middle finger.

You caught yourself staring at Belphie. His eyes, which were filled with sympathy was now clouded over by something else. It darkened, and you saw his pupils blown wide, threatening to devour the bluish violet color that surrounded it.

“I’m sorry, Belphie, I should’ve told you before,” you murmur.

This was it though. This is the day you die. Cause of death? Embarrassment. Yeah, that’s right. Like a fucking sim dying because it peed in front of the other sims in the club, probably because you kept on cancelling their whim to use the restroom.

“I can help you find relief.”

Pause.

Your moth fell agape at Belphie’s suggestion. Did he really just suggest that? To you? Do you pretend to be Helen Keller? Do you become Jared, 19? There’s no way you could say yes, despite the temptations you’ve felt, longing for sexual touch. After all, your first kiss happened such a long time ago. And even then, you broke it off after a brief moment because you found yourself unwilling to make a fool of yourself. Ha! You, accepting Belphie’s proposal. What a long shot. You were definitely prepared to pass away before you could make an even bigger fool of yourself in front of the brothers and Solomon.

“B-Belphie! Hey! Get your hands off my human!”

Satan and Beel were at a loss for words. To your surprise, so was Lucifer. And Levi, you could only assume, is passed out next to you on the couch after hearing your cry of pleasure.

“Guys, uhh,” you scratched the back of your neck, “it’s okay. I’ll just accept my fate and boil over by the seventh day.”

Right! I saved them from the discomfort of being obliged to help me relieve myself. Plus, that was sorta awkward. I mean, if it happened to someone I didn’t harbor any feelings for, why should I have to help them get laid or something? This was only fair.

At your words, Lucifer was roused to take control of this discord. “Absolutely not. As the eldest and trusted advisor to Diavolo, it is my duty to-“

“Oh, come on Lucifer! Don’t give us that! Just admit you’d be more than willing to help our little MC out in her predicament,” teased Asmo.

You fidgeted in your seat. How were you going to explain to the brothers in a logical manner that you’d rather die than admit you’re an inexperienced virgin that could rival Levi himself?

Oh no. You were too late. Solomon caught on to your trepidation and released a dramatic gasp, “MC, don’t tell me,” he paused, for dramatic effect, “were you not kidding when you claimed to be pure? Are you actually a virgin?”

You smiled like the calm before the storm, the waves pulling back before the tsunami crashed. It was the way the earth stilled before the meteorite connected. “I’ll take that as my cue to pass away.”

You closed your eyes and pretended you were in a place, free from embarrassment. Ignoring the gasps and murmurs from Mammon and Satan (and Levi who woke up after passing out), the hums of approval from Asmo and Belphie, the way Solomon stifled back his laughter, and you couldn’t hear it but you were guessing Beel and Lucifer were completely speechless.

“MC, you can’t just close your eyes and pretend we aren’t here,” Satan coaxed, "we're not going to let you perish because of this curse."

You cock one eye open and nodded, ruminating over the different ways you could respond to his infuriatingly rational comment. “I can try,” you maintained your smile and sat cross legged on the couch, meditating into the astral realm. That's where your soul was, of course, after you died from the embarrassment.

“Oh honey,” cooed Asmo, “we only want what's best for you. Plus, I could practically taste the desire oozing out of you.”

“Asmo!”

———♦︎———♦︎———♦︎———

This was going to be a long night. Solomon bid farewell to the brothers after chatting with Lucifer, discussing the curse as in depth as he could without revealing the little snippet of information he decided to keep for himself. The rest of the brothers went back and forth with MC, trying to convince her to think over her choice and the severity of the curse but with a pride that could rival Lucifer’s, she rejected it with a shake of her head and kept her arms crossed. It took her a while before it dawned on her - the brothers would not yield until she gave them a satisfactory answer. Defeated, she told them that she would consider it.

It was getting late.

The brothers returned to their rooms and MC followed not long afterwards. The House of Lamentation was filled with a different tension tonight, one unlike any other.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #swd obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me fanfic #obey me fanfic x reader

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the-writing-otter · 4 years

Text

Malédiction ⇴ Chapter VI

⇴ Author: the-writing-otter

⇴ Genre: Fantasy, Alternate Universe, Action/Adventure, Romance, Angst

⇴ Main Characters: Kim Namjoon, Kim Taehyung, Min Yoongi, Kim Seokjin, Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin, Jung Hoseok

⇴ Summary:

Crown, Jungkook; Cursed, Jimin; Cast-off, Jin; Seer, Namjoon; Seeker, Yoongi; Sought, Taehyung; Catalyst, Hoseok

⇴ malédiction masterlist

⇴ previous

Chapter VI

The wind whipped through the town, rattling the tin roofs on the southern, sea-facing side, and blustering against the stronger wooden doors of the richer, northeastern side. Namjoon's flimsy door slammed shut behind him as he drug his bleeding charge into his tiny kitchen.

"What the-"

"Shut up and help me get him on the bed."

Taehyung jumped up and slung Jin's other arm over his shoulder. They set him on the bed as gently as they could, but he groaned and his head lolled to the side.

" He's lost quite a bit of blood." Taehyung's voice was calm and sure, and it was as if the calm had passed from Namjoon to him. As soon as Jin was settled on the bed and Taehyung was tending to him, Namjoon started pacing his tiny house, which was mostly kitchen, anxiously scanning old books and grabbing a different one each time he passed his messy wooden table. Taehyung inspected Jin's wound and grimaced. "Someone already stitched it. It got ripped up and I can't do anything but apply pressure. Have you got anything for the pain?"

Namjoon stopped pacing just long enough to grab a bottle off the table and toss it to Taehyung, who almost face planted trying to catch it. When he righted himself, he shot a glare at Namjoon, who was back to pacing again. "You can't just throw stuff like this. Why do you have it lying around, anyways?" "It's fine." He paused, realizing what he just asked. "Tae, I knew he would come."

Taehyung looked up from his ministrations.

"What?"

Namjoon face was careful, guarded. Taehyung stood slowly, his gaze open, but Namjoon could see his mistrust, plain as day. It was unnerving to see his friend look at him like that. He had known him for so long, had trusted him like a brother. And now he could see a crack, a chink in their relationship, growing bigger and bigger with every minute that passed.

“You never told me you could interpret your dreams. Do you realize that could have-”

“I know-”

“No you don’t!”

The tense atmosphere broke at Taehyung’s yell, and Jin jerked awake. The two men stood facing each other in the small room, one stiff and on edge, one meek and still. Jin recognized the one furthest from his as the shadow who helped him. After the alleyway he didn't remember much. His head hurt from sitting up and now everything else hurt too. The pain in his shoulder and on his chest had dulled to an ache now though, and he traced his hands over his bandaged wounds.

"What's going on?" His voice was hoarse and quiet but the two men turned at his query. He glanced between them as they stayed silent, until the shadow sighed and rubbed his hands over his face.

"Sorry, you don't need to worry about it. I'm Namjoon, I'm a ...seer." He glanced at the other man for a moment. He seemed sheepish.

The other man brushed past Namjoon and took a seat at the table. He was frowning deeply, but he positively glared when Namjoon cleared his throat and gestured to Jin. He glanced up, "Taehyung," he said, and resumed his perusal of a random book from the messy tabletop.

"I'm sorry to wake you up, that wound isn't gonna heal itself and you need rest." Namjoon drug a wooden chair to the side of the bed almost knocking the table over as he did. Taehyung flailed as bottles and books were jostled; Namjoon obliviously kept talking.

"But perhaps it's for the best," he said sighing and taking a seat. Taehyung glared at the back of his head and Jin tried not to laugh. "I probably frightened you in that alley, sorry."

Jin seems to realize what was being said. "Sorry? You saved my life!"

"Well, yeah, but…"

"But nothing. I owe you. Both of you." Taehyung glanced up as Jin looked to him as well as Namjoon.

"Please. Don't mention it. It's what any decent person would do," Namjoon said, rubbing his neck, abashedly.

Tae wanted to expose Namjoon, now that he knew he could not only see into the future and the past, but could roughly interpret their meanings as well, but he held back. The stranger didn't need to know everything. He would heal here, just enough so that Namjoon would be assured he would be fine, and then they would never see him again. There was no reason why he should know exactly how Namjoon knew where to be and when to save his life.

Thought watching the two interact, Taehyung suddenly wasn't so sure of himself. In the time he had known Namjoon, he had always been too eager to help any poor individual that crossed his path. Even when, during their travels with the gypsy caravans, there was hardly any food to spare between them, Namjoon would give his half to a beggar on the road and go without, making Taehyung feel like absolute dirt. He never begrudged him for it, till now. Till the stranger might be a threat. He had heard of an infamous highwayman who matched the strangers description and the thought of harbouring a possible criminal made him uneasy.

"Namjoon." Taehyung gently tugged Namjoon's sleeved as he finally left Jin's side, having finished checking his bandages.

"Can we talk?"

Jin was dozing, but his presence still made Tae uncomfortable, a fact that somehow escaped Namjoon's notice.

"Sure. What is it?"

"Namjoon. Can we talk outside?" He gestured to the door. His gaze was insistent and worried.

Namjoon shifted on his feet, unwilling to leave his patient.

"Please?" pressed Taehyung.

"Fine."

They slipped outside the door, and stood just under the stoop, the storm died down now with only a chill and wet cobblestones to show for it.

Concern was evident on Namjoon's face as he closed the door behind them, but Tae couldn't bring himself to pity him for it. He couldn't afford to.

"Namjoon, how long is the man going to stay here?"

"His name's Jin."

Tae sighed. "How long is Jin," he emphasized, "the possible criminal, obvious fugitive, who you just found bleeding in an alleyway, going to stay in this house." With every word he gestured angrily, losing his patience at Namjoon's obliviousness. "You expect me to stop by, say 'Hello, how are you? Oh, you can suddenly interpret your creepy dreams? And you're using that to save random strangers instead of the people who took you in?!' Of all the people who should benefit from anything you could have to offer it would be the gypsies. Or have you forgotten everything that was done for you? You love playing the hero until you actually have to face your past."

As Taehyung had been ranting, Namjoon's face had become more and more hard, settling into a grim visage as Tae finally stopped.

"You have no idea what you're talking about."

His voice was soft, it did not match his face, and for the first time in a long time, Taehyung was scared of him. "Every dream is a nightmare, every prophecy that I can understand is living hell. If I see a whole town burning, vividly, horribly, I can't magically go to wherever they are and warn them. It could've happened years ago or it could happen tomorrow. You don't know what I've seen." He stepped away, and went back inside, leaving Tae stunned on the doorstep.

⇴ next

#jungkook scenarios #namjoon scenarios #jin scenarios #taehyung scenarios #jimin scenario #jhope scenario #yoongi scenarios #bts scenarios #bts imagines

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manifestoonmoralmanlove · 5 years

Text

Soulless Riffing: Brainless Ch.10 + 11.

I got a supernatural action/romance book series as a gift that’s just riddled with stuff that I hate….and as a steampunk Victorian London action romance story filled with werewolves and vampires…it’s yeah gonna be easy to poke fun at.

I just want to say, it’s totally cool if you like this story or ones like it! It’s certainly a better caliber than a lot of what I make fun of…however…I can’t help but want to make fun of it.

Over here for the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th, 7+8th, and 9th.

Chapter 10 is short so I threw in 11 too! SO FUCK IT HERE GOES!

Chapter 10

So this zombie bursts in to attack Alexia and Lord Akeldama. The zombie’s clever plan is to just start…pouring chloroform on the floor. I don’t think that’s how that works but lol ok whatever. Immediately the super powerful vampire is out cold. They talk about how gaudy and huge Lord Akeldama’s house is, so I totally pictured the zombie kicking the door open, pouring it, and even though he’s still like 50 feet away he’s out like a light.

So my head canon for this is the zombie is like, “Well they’re obviously going to get away! Why bother!?” So he just pours out a medicine bottle’s worth of chloroform out of annoyed futility. Lord Akeldama since he’s such a DANDY thinks the zombie poured some kind of staining liquid like wine all over his centuries old, priceless Turkish rug. He’s so mortified that his favorite rug is ruined and feints on the spot.

Now this scenario makes sense, YOU’RE WELCOME!

Alexia is able to hit the zombie in the head 3 times before she realizes that’s not working and the fumes OVERCOME HER! YES SHE LITERALLY GETS THE VAPORS!

THANK FUCK! FOR ACTUAL DRAMA!

When she wakes up she’s being dragged bound and gagged into the Hypocras Club for scientists. She overhears some shady biz about how they want to experiment on Lord Akledama. She also notices an obnoxiously prominent octopus motif in the place. It might as well read,

“Alexia turned the octopus-shaped knob, of the octopus-shaped door, to reveal an octopus-shaped hallway, with live octopuses hanging from the wall all wondering where they got such a bad rep from.”

The two of them get thrown in a cell and are able to undo their gags. The less cool version of Blackadder’s Prince George (Lord Akeldama) explains that the zombie-thing is an automaton or basically a fleshy robot/golem. He also explains that the robot can only be undone if you speak the magic word. Looks as if safe words work much better in this universe than they ever did in 50 shades!

ALSO JUST KIDDING CAUSE THERE’S ANOTHER WAY TO STOP IT BUT WON’T BE REVEALED UNTIL IT’S A SUPER TENSE MOMENT! HARDY HAR HAR!

But we actually get a genuinely good scene after this where Lord Akledama talks about the fact they both may die. He says that, if it’s possible, he wants Alexia to hold his hand so he can see the sun one last time. It’s cheesy, and probably not going to be applicable in the situation they’re in, but it’s really sweet and sad and I like it. The baddies then come back to drag Akledama out of the cell, presumably to be tortured to death.

NO! I WAS JUST STARTING TO ACTUALLY LIKE HIM!

Say something Nice Faps:

Actual plot

No or little mention of the dumbass ship

Akledama wanting to see the sun.

Chapter 11

So Alexia is not having the best time in the cell by herself but eventually she hears voices. We have super unsubtle exposition that boils down to.

“So yeah we’re torturing werewolves and vampires, so we can figure out how to genocide them REAL GOOD!”

Hoo boy listen. The only other racist thing against vampires/werewolves we have seen in action is a woman talk briefly about how untoward it is that a business is catering to THOSE kinds of people. I will not count all the vague times Alexia alludes to them being oppressed with no concrete examples.

Going from, Bad person is annoyed they may have to glance at a vampire while at a cafe, to inhuman experiments meant to further genocide is AT BEST a huge jump and at worse flat out feels entirely separate from the setting created.

Fun Fact: Racism isn’t a child predator who hides in the shadows and pops out when you need a scapegoat. Racism is fucking everywhere effecting everything.

Don’t try to add racism allusions in your story if you can’t grasp that fundamental concept.

Faps, nobody picked up steampunk werewolf fucker for commentary on race. And besides the inability to grasp the complexity of racism is going to seem quaint next to some of the dumb writing bullshit coming up next.

So during this conversation this mysterious bad man also states, “We have a random human in this cell, cause she was there lol.”

“Can I see her?”

“Lol why not!?”

So we open up the cell to meet the big baddie Siemons, whom, I’m probably just going to refer to as childish evilguy nicknames for awhile cause his characterization is as on the nose as you can get. Like no joke, whenever they mention him smiling it’s, “He smiles psychotically.”

The guy, Mr. bigbad was talking to turns out to be #1 Stud MacDougall!

GASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSP

Actually I totally called this cause she mentions 3 times during their short conversation that she recognizes the 2nd voice, it would be most DRAMATIC, and cause I have money down that he’s secretly a bad, bad man so Alexia doesn’t feel bad about not fucking a fatty. She’s not shallow; he’s just a bad person you see.

BUT, to this story’s credit MacDougall is AGHAST to find Alexia in there, goes to her side, and demands she be set free at once.

Evilbaddy Von Octo-dump is like, “Oh! She’s Alexia the Soulless who can stop supernatural powers! We inexplicably did not put 2 and 2 together despite being super smart Nazi-scientists. I mean we very obviously tried to kidnap her 3 separate times, and stole her records for more info. But we weren’t actually interested in kidnapping her. We just tried to get a vampire and took her along for the lulz!” Why even put in the effort to say they weren’t after her? This is stupid!

MacDougall, despite studying the supernatural FOR A LIVING, has never heard of the Soulless phenomenon and like…

FUCK HOW AND WHY AND ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!

The author states explicitly that all the supernaturals in England not only are aware of the Soulless but are informed of the identity of every single Soulless. How would normies NOT know? Vampires and werewolves hang with humans all the time, and it makes no sense why the Soulless would be hidden information from the general public. Soulless can pose a threat to the supernatural not regular boring humans, there’s no reason to believe that the average citizen is going to be upset at this knowledge at all.

This wouldn’t even, so far, cause any plot inconsistencies if everybody knew. I think the rub here is that we have to justify her family not knowing so the reveal would make them upset, but we’ll see how important that plot point actually is. Honestly, I fear the author is just so used to supernatural media where SOMETHING is hidden from the general population she felt compelled to do the same.

MacDougall convinces Meaniemollusk NaziStink to take off her restraints and try to get her on their side. They allow her to clean up and change. Alexia takes advantage of this to go to the Octopus shaped mirror, break off an octopus-shaped shard, cover it in octo-cloth, and hide it in her octo-bosum.

Alexia tries to play dumb and meek in order to appease Squidlly MurderMan. He tells her he plans to kill all Vampires and Werewolves. She points out that they’re scientists with a political agenda and apparently that’s her breaking her bimbo character and the gig is up.

OKAY?????????????????

They then take her to another cell. On the way there she hears Lord Akeldama’s blood-curling torture screams, but she doesn’t seem all that upset. I mean she probably doesn’t want to appear outwardly upset to blow the gig even more, but we don’t really have much internal monologue about how worried she is.

So that’s cool.

They want to test her soulsucking ability and she lies saying it takes an hour. (Which is hard to believe, isn’t soulless supposed to be common knowledge in England, and also they stole all the notes anyway they probably know.) They also OUTRIGHT SAY they’re planning on killing her anyway but it would be rad if she was cool about it. They say they’re going to murder/test it by putting her in a cell with a rabid werewolf to SEE WHAT HAPPENS!? (She’d probably die but lol turns out it’s Lord Maccon aren’t we all shocked.) But like let’s break this whole mess down.

1.) You uhhh consider LYING that you won’t kill her if she cooperates. That tends to encourage people to cooperate. YOU ARE BAD PEOPLE AFTERALL AND BAD PEOPLE LIE!

2.) HOW FUCKING INCOMPREHENSIBLY DUMB ARE THESE FUCKING SCIENTISTS!? You UHH MAYBE consider you could learn a fuck-load from experiments where a person can turn off a supernaturals’ ability at will? PERHAPS it’ll be easier to genocide them if they’re not super-fast, super strong, immortal AND can heal real fast????? WHAT COLOSSAL FATHEADS ARE RUNNING THIS JOINT!? AUTHOR? YOU CAN HAVE THEM BE SUPER EVIL AND BAD WITHOUT THEM IMMEDIATELY TRYING TO KILL PROTAG? YANNO?

Also throwing her in a locked room with a PEAK werewolf, even if they never believed it took that long, is basically instant-death for her. She’s kinda arrogant when it comes to self-defense but even she’s like, “I’d be super lucky if I even reach the point of having the shit kicked out of me before I can turn him completely enough for them to not be a threat.”

So they take the antidote to the supposed poison they want to snuff out and just dump it down the drain.

BUT GOLLY I’M SURE LOOKING FORWARD TO THOSE OVERGROWN CHILDREN ALMOST FUCKING IN THAT CELL! THAT’S GONNA BE SWELL!

Say something Nice Faps:

No shitty Maccon/Alexia verbal sparring

MacDougall does try to not get her killed. I mean he just shouts dramatically. Not that I’m asking him to fall right on a sword but it does seem a bit tepid. But like for a woman who gleefully and regularly puts herself in danger? Maybe that’s the response that’s appropriate.

Also the author never really says MacDougall is down to clown with Murder Bigots. So I guess what I’m trying to say is I’d still fuck MacDougall apart.

#soulless #brainless #riffing

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cole-winchester · 6 years

Text

I Won’t Run Away

Lethal Weapon Fic

Clayne Crawford - Seasons One and Two based ONLY! Don’t even get me started...

Summary:

A girl from Riggs' past surfaces and they discover they’re both as screwed up as the other. Alcohol, depression, PTSD...You name it, they’ve got it. When feelings develop, will their past trauma stand in the way of healing one another...or will it be their downfall?

Song inspiration for Title and Pic Quote: I Won’t Run Away

Original Characters:

Aiden Gallagher - Main character opposite Martin Riggs (pictured her as me in my head while writing - picture her as you wish with the descriptions given in story)

Robby Anderson - Main character’s ex (Pictured as Stephen Amell)

Mike Callahan - Main character’s friend/co-worker (Pictured as Dominic Purcell)

Warnings:

This is a whump fic. There will be characters beaten to hell and back. Some depression and PTSD flashbacks and suicidal dialog. Read at your own caution.

Tag List: Tags are always open, hit me up if you want on it!

@adorkabletiff91 @garcywinchester @t-rexprincess

Part One

"You good to close up, Mike?" I sighed lightly as I leaned on the doorway to the bar’s office, running my hand absently through my dark brown hair. The metal door frame was cool against my bare arm as I gazed down at the man.

"Yeah I got it." He smiled as he closed the safe and stood, turning to me. His tall broad frame making the office look much smaller than it was. "I'll walk you out."

I nod, grabbing my flannel and small cross-body bag off of the hook and met him at the front doors.

"You know you don't have to walk me out each night." I smirked as I stepped up behind him.

"Oh don't even start, Aiden." Mike chuckled as he opened the door for me. "There's too many psychos around this part of town at night."

"Yeah, but I'm a big girl." I joked and lightly bumped his heavily muscled arm with my shoulder.

He barked out a laugh. "Not as big as me, sweetheart. You're what? All of 130 soaking wet?"

I giggled as my boots scuffed the sidewalk. As much as I wanted to be tough, Mike was right. Any creep on the street would have to think twice with him walking beside me. He was tall, built to the nines with his wide jaw and shaved head...he was intimidating.

Mike had taken me under his wing when I came to LA a while back looking for a job. His bar needed the help and plus, he didn't want me getting caught up in a shitty situation that most pretty girls end up in out here. He was a sweetheart and with two daughters of his own, he couldn't turn away the option of helping a girl like me out.

We headed around the corner to the small parking area next to the bar. The cool air snaking around my legs. Mike's gaze scanned the surrounding streets for any movement in the shadows.

I turned to him as we reached my jeep and smiled. "Thanks, Mike." I embraced him, wrapping my arms around his waist. "You're a good friend."

Mike chuckled and pulled back, ruffling my hair with his large hand. "See ya Sunday, kiddo. Have fun at the barbeque tomorrow."

I smiled as he back stepped, shoving his hands in his pockets. "G'night, Mike."

"Night." He waited until I was safely in my jeep and pulling out of the lot onto the street before he made his way back to the bar.

* * * *

I walked into the house, closing and deadbolting the door behind me. I dropped my bag on the hook in the entry way and tossed my keys onto the small table. I stepped down the hall towards the bedroom when the kitchen light flicked on, stopping me in my tracks. My gaze snapped to the right and landed on the figure in the middle of the kitchen, my heart pounding.

"I missed you, Aiden."

Robby...

"No!" I screamed as I took off down the hallway. How could he be here?! He's in jail! This isn't happening!

I reached for my cell in my shorts, but found nothing. It was gone...as if it disappeared out of my pocket.

Shit!

I neared the corner of the hallway desperately trying to get to the landline in the dining room before he could. A force slammed into my legs, knocking them out from under me as he came around the corner. I crashed to the floor and quickly scrambled to get to my feet when his boot collided with my head, sending me backwards against the wall.

Wake up, Aiden! Wake the fuck up! This isn't happening! My thoughts screamed as my vision spun.

"You should've never opened your mouth!" Robby's hand dug into my hair, pulling me up from the floor and slamming my back against the wall. "You stupid fucking whore!"

"This isn't happening. This isn't happening. Wake up!" I whimpered as his face came into focus. His ice blue eyes glaring at me with pure hatred as an evil grin spread across his face.

"Oh, it's fuckin' happening, sweetheart!" He spat at me and lunged his right hand towards my stomach.

A white hot pain pierced my midsection sending fire throughout my body. My eyes widened in shock as his face was inches from mine. He eased back and I looked down as he pulled a crimson knife from my body.

"I told you I'd kill you for what you did to me. You can't hide from me."

My knees weakened and my body went numb as he lunged forward with the knife again.

* * * *

"No!" I screamed and flailed as I woke from the nightmare, tumbling off the bed in a tangled heap of sweat soaked sheets. I panted frantically as I clutched my stomach where the knife had been in the dream. The dull phantom ache of it still lingering.

I've had the same nightmare at least once a week since I'd testified against Robby, resulting in him being locked up for the next twenty years. My shrink said it's perfectly normal in these type of circumstances...but for three years?

He's locked up in max. He's 3 states away. He can't get to you. You're safe.

I repeat in my head, trying to calm the shaking in my hands. I absently reach up and trace the jagged scar running from my temple down to my jaw in front of my ear. It seems to burn at my touch, bringing back memories I've tried to put behind me. I shake my head, willing the images away. Untangling myself I look over to my alarm clock...the bright red letters blazing back at me...530am. I sigh and flop back against the side of the bed. I'd only had a couple hours of sleep since my shift at the bar. Deciding that it was useless to try and get any more sleep, I hauled myself to my feet.

Well... time for whiskey and some paint therapy.

I head over to the spare bedroom that I'd turned into my art studio. The floors covered with old flat sheets, stacks of fresh canvases tipped against one wall, finished pieces tucked in protective boxes ready to be sold against another and my large easel in the center with a fresh canvas. Aside from the bar, I had a part time afternoon shift at a local coffee shop and in my spare time, I created and sold paintings. Some were hung in the coffee shop advertised for sale, and every few months I did a small showing downtown. That's where I'd first met Trish Murtaugh. Her daughter, Riana, was a regular at the coffee shop in the afternoons when she got out of school. She'd eyed my paintings and had brought her mother to one of my showings. Trish had fallen in love with my art immediately. I was more of an abstract emotional artist. Most of it consisted of blacked out female silhouettes, some profiles, some full body, with bright colors splattered, slashed or dripped down around them. I also dabbled in realistic portraits and some custom commissioned work.

Today? Today called for some paint throwing.

I grabbed my bottle of whiskey and downed a shot, slamming it down on the table. I popped a can of paint open without looking at the color and reached my fingers in, coating them in the bright purple liquid. I stepped about five feet in front of the canvas....and flung my hand toward it like I was throwing a baseball.

I got lost. My mind blank with whiskey buzz and zoned in on the task at hand. Grabbing random colors and splattering them against the sheer white background of the canvas. The paint slightly dripping and mixing together to form its own shade. I was in my element. Lost in my own universe as the world around me ceased to exist.

After a while I stepped back a moment, gazing at the splattered canvas in front of me. The contrasting splotches of neon colors scattered across the face of it. It needed something. I set the can of paint down and stomped the few feet to the canvas. I drug my fingers through the wet paint, creating swirls and spirals in strategic order around the piece. I eyed it for another moment, gauging its story. Satisfied with my work, I wiped my hands clean on a rag and downed another shot of whiskey, plopping down in the corner of the room. I sighed and leaned my head back against the wall and gazed out the side window at the rising sun. A new day had begun.

* * * *

I had managed to catch a few more hours of shut eye thanks to Mr. Daniels, when I was awoken from a text alert.

Shit, what time was it?!

I fumbled for my phone on the nightstand as I sat up against the headboard.

1130AM

Oops, guess I got more than just a few hours..

I rubbed my eyes as I opened my Messages.

Trish: You're still coming today right?

Yes. Wouldn't miss it. You need me to bring anything?

Trish: Just yourself! :) I can't wait for you to meet everyone.

Awesome. I'll see you then!

I locked my phone and tossed it on the bed as I stretched my stiff muscles. I had two hours before I had to be at the Murtaugh's. Thank god Trish had texted me.

* * * *

I eased my Wrangler at the curb across from the Murtaugh residence. I felt weird not bringing anything to the barbecue but Trish insisted, and from what I'd gathered so far in our friendship, you don't argue with her. I glanced around at the few cars in the driveway and along the street as I stepped out onto the pavement. At least I wasn't the first one here...that's always a little awkward. I made my way across the street as I heard laughter coming from the backyard. Assuming everyone was outside, I let myself in the side gate. As I rounded the side of the house I was greeting by a decent sized group. Some teenagers Riana's age but majority were adults that most likely worked with Trish or her husband, Roger.

"Hey! You made it!" Riana bounded off of the deck to me, embracing me in an excited hug. I laughed and hugged her back. "Mom's inside grabbing some more wine. Come on!" She grabbed my hand with a big smile on her face as she led me over to the grill. "Dad!"

A man looked up from the grill at her call and he smiled as he stepped to us. "Ah, this must be the famous Aiden I've heard so much about. Roger." He held out his hand to me. I took his hand and smiled, laughing off his comment. His eyes darted to my scar and quickly back to my gaze, his smile only faltering slightly before he recovered.

"Nice to meet you." I said as I released his hand.

"Likewise. Trish has shown me some of your work. You're really talented."

"Thank you." I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. I was never one that accepted praise very well.

"Oh!" Trish's voice sounded from the deck behind us. "I'm so glad you could make it!" She stepped down and handed Roger a plate of burgers before embracing me. "You want something to drink?"

"Sure." I glanced around at the coolers lining the deck.

"There's beer in the coolers and wine inside." She smiled and turned slightly to Roger, dropping her voice to a heated whisper. "Is he coming? Where is he?"

"I don't know he said he'd be here." Roger wasn't as quiet as his wife so I was still able to catch the conversation...and then it hit me.

"Oh, god, Trish. Tell me you're not trying to set me up with someone?" I smirked and crossed my arms over my chest.

Both her and Roger snapped their attention back to me. Roger looked guilty as hell and Trish plastered on a mischievous smile. "I-I wouldn't call it 'setting you up.' More of ... just a friendly introduction."

"Ugh." I sighed and dropped my head back chuckling. "While I appreciate the offer...I'm not looking to date anyone right now." I gave her a small smile.

I hadn't opened up to her yet about my past. This was the first time aside from my art gallery shows that we'd actually hung out. We'd become friends but not to the point yet of sharing our deep secrets. I'd caught her and Riana eyeing my scar each time we'd seen each other, but they both had the respect to not ask about it. I just wasn't ready to share that dark part of my history yet with anyone.

"I'm not asking that you read anything into it. He's a great guy. A little rough around the edges but-"

Trish was cut off by a commotion from the side yard at the corner of the deck.

"Aw, you guys didn't have to wait for me to get here! Let's get this party started!" A loud male voice echoed through the yard.

"Speak of the devil." Roger muttered as Trish threw me a smile before moving behind me towards the man.

"Martin! I'm glad you came! Come here, I'd like you to meet someone." I turned as Trish laced her arm through the man’s and guided him over toward me.

I froze.

Martin stopped abruptly when I’d turned to face them. Trish didn't seem concerned and stopped with him, smiling as she motioned for me to come forward. Martin removed his sunglasses and his shocked amber gaze bore into me. Everything around me seemed to stop as my pulse pounded in my ears as our eyes remained locked with each other.

"Martin, this is my friend-" Trish began.

Martin breathed out in disbelief, cutting her off. “Aiden..?”

#clayne crawford #clayne crawford whump #clayne crawford fan fiction #martin riggs #martin riggs whump #martin riggs fan fiction #lethal weapon #lethal weapon fan fiction #martin riggs x female oc #lethal weapon fanfiction #clayne crawford fanfiction #martin riggs fanfiction

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sirpoley · 6 years

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On Towns in RPGs, Part 5: Building a Playable City

In the first article in this series, I embarked on an ill-defined quest to figure out what, if anything, a town map is actually for in tabletop play.

In the second, I took a look at the common metaphor comparing towns to dungeons—unfavourably.

In the third, I proposed an alternate metaphor: that cities are more like forests than dungeons.

In the fourth, I looked at how forests are used in D&D to see what we could use when thinking about cities.

Now, we're going to get to the nuts and bolts of designing cities for use in D&D.

Think In Terms of Districts, not Distance

No player is ever going to remember, or care about, the actual distance between their current location and the tavern they're trying to get to. Similarly, they won't remember, or care about, the roads they have to cross to get there.

The absolute most you can hope for is that they'll remember and care about some of (but not all of) the neighbourhoods they have to go through. In Terry Pratchet's Ankh-Morpork, the Shades is an extremely memorable and dangerous area. Like Pratchett's characters, players are going to avoid it wherever possible and yet always find that they have to go through it. Planescape: Torment's Hive and Fallout: New Vegas's Freeside have similar qualities. If you grimly tell the players: "the quickest way to the princess is through—oh, dear—the Shades," they'll have a reaction to it.

Don't overdo it with districts; keep the number small enough for them to be memorable. I'd recommend seven as an absolute maximum, but as few as three is perfectly acceptable. Lantzberg, from City of Eternal Rain, only used three (one each for lower, middle, and upper class—end elevation). A district can be as big as you like; feel free to simply scale them up for larger cities.

Forget Thee Not House Hufflepuff

It's no secret that in JK Rowling's Harry Potter series, only two of the four houses matter at all. If you're not Gryffindor or Slytherin, you're lucky to get any screentime at all. However, if they were simply cut from the series, then Hogwarts would feel terribly small, as if it were built solely for Harry to gallivant around in, and not part of a living, breathing world. Your city can't just have people to tell your players who to kill and people to be killed, it needs someone to clean up the mess after, also. From a narrative standpoint, these people don't matter, and will rarely be mentioned, but they can be used to pad your world out. When dividing up your map into districts, include a few that, as far as you're concerned, will never see an adventure, and give it maybe one or two notable characteristics. These are areas that are primarily residential, or involve industries not relevant to adventure (i.e., anyone other than an alchemist, blacksmith, or arcane university). Feel free to leave these places utterly devoid of points of interest.

In the adventure written for Lantzberg, for instance, there's little to no reason to ever visit the castle at the peak of the hill. It's there for verisimilitude (someone has to be in charge) and for the GM to hook later adventures to (which I'll elaborate on in my next point), but mainly it's just there to make the city seem larger. Similarly, most of the buildings in Castleview are manors of rich and important citizens, each one of which might have any number of use for a band of adventurers, but only a handful are actually fleshed out. After all, it would hardly feel like a living, breathing city if every single building was tied into a single adventure, would it?

Gaming is full of Hufflepuff Houses: the 996 Space Marine chapters that aren't lucky enough to be Ultramarines, Blood Angels, Dark Angels, or Space Wolves; D&D fiends that are neither lawful nor chaotic, Morrowind's Houses Dres and Indoril, and any of Homeworld's Kushan other than Kiith S'jet. This isn't laziness; they're there for a reason: they make the world feel larger.

Leave Room to Grow

Try to design a city large enough, and versatile enough, that once the current quest is wrapped up, you can inject some more content into it without serious retconning. This is part of where your Hufflepuff-tier-neighbourhoods come in—maybe one of them has been under the heel of a violent gang the whole time, but the party never found out because they never went there. Once the players have started to clear out your adventure ideas and points of interest, there's still plenty of room to pump some more in without the city bursting like an over-inflated balloon.

The map I posted earlier probably represents the upper limit of how detailed you should make your city. A GM could run a few more adventures out of Lantzberg, but a long-running campaign would probably benefit from a bit more room to breathe.

A Few Key Details

What are the kinds of things a DM really needs to know about a city? D&D3.5 had little statblocks for cities and settlements that broke down the demographics of different areas, but that's probably more granular than is actually necessary. Remember—every bit of detail that you include has the potential to distract the GM from finding the fact they actually need. It isn't for instance, particularly important to know that 12.5% of a neighbourhood's population are halflings while 54% are elves, but it might be useful to know that a neighbourhood has a notably large elf population and an often-overlooked halfling minority.

Who are the Watchmen that the Watchers Watch?

One infamously common thing that comes up in D&D is the city watch. It's shadow looms large over every action the party, and your villains, will take, so it's worth thinking about them a little bit. Its best to err on the side of making them too weak rather than too strong, as a powerful, well-organized law enforcement group can really put a damper on the opportunities for adventure. The counter-argument is that if the city watch isn't strong enough to threaten the party, then the party effectively has the run of the city; my preferred answer to this problem is to give the local lord a powerful knight or champion who can be used as a beat-stick against major threats to law and order (like the PCs) if need be, but can plausibly be busy enough with other problems to leave some for the party to handle.

When deciding who the local authorities are, almost anything you can come up with is more interesting (and historically plausible) than a centralized, professional police force. Here's a few examples:

A militia organized by local guilds

A local gang that provides protection in exchange for money and doesn't want outsiders muscling in on their turf

A semi-legitimate religious militant order

A mercenary group funded by a coalition of wealthy merchants (who just so happen to overlook their own crimes and corruption)

Don't get too bogged down in their stats; just pick a low-level NPC from the back of the Monster Manual and write down who they work for. Different neighbourhoods can share the same organization, but try to prevent a single organization from policing the entire city.

By breaking up law enforcement by district, you also prevent the entire city dogpiling on the party when they break a law, like you see in video games. If the party robs a house in the Ironworker's District, they can lay low in the Lists, where the Ironworkers' Patrol has no jurisdiction, until the heat dies down.

Points of Interest!

All those numbers you see scattered over D&D cities? Now's the time to add them. Each one should correspond to a description in a document somewhere. These descriptions can be as long or as short as you wish. For example, on the short end, #1 from Lantzberg just has this to say:

However, and I won't get into too much detail for fear of spoilers, some of those numbers are elaborate, multi-page dungeons.

While you should endeavour to keep the number of districts low, there is no ceiling to how many points of interest you should put into the city. Don't burn yourself out. If you can come up with six, put in six. If you can come up with fifty, put in fifty.

A point of interest can be anything from a scenic overlook to a toll bridge to an elaborate sewer system packed with kobolds and giant rats and treasure. They can be as fleshed out or as minimal as you are comfortable with. There's a sweet spot that varies from GM to GM, as if you include too much detail you suffer from information overload as the party approaches the point of interest (sixteen pages of description, for instance, for a single shop is less than helpful), while too little information might lead to you having to do too much on the fly. I like maybe one to three sentences per point of interest, or per room in a point of interest if it is important enough to warrant its own map (I typically only map dungeons).

Random Encounters

I'll write a series on handling random encounters later, but for now, breaking up encounters by district is a convenient way to do it. More dangerous districts, for instance, might have muggers or even monsters that attack (especially at night). If you're going to use random encounters in your campaign, creating a table for each district lets you use your local colour to affect actual game mechanics. Castleview, for instance, is very safe due to constant patrols by the Lady-Mayor's Watch, while the flooded Lists are full of man-eating fungi, ghouls, criminals, and who knows what. This lets you follow the age-old advice to "show, don't tell." You don't have to say "this area is full of crime," you can show the players this by throwing some criminals at them.

This post has already gone on way longer than intended. Next time, we'll use what we've learned to answer the original question and make better town maps.

#D&D #RPGs #D&D5e #OnTownsinRPGs

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clonerightsagenda · 6 years

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So last year before I wrote A Horrible Kind of Nice for Gill’s bday fic I was tossing around other ideas and toyed with an exploration of what SBURB 2.0 might look like. I initially planned to do an ensemble fic and grabbed two random characters out of a lineup for the first scene (in this case Aradia and Roxy) and then things... got away from me, and it ended up being about them? Even though I have never given that dynamic much thought before or since, beyond that they would probably be agents of party chaos if unleashed. If I had recently gotten a new item of clothing I would have assumed it was possessed and that’s why this got written. I wasn’t sure what to *do* with it, but since it’s 4/13 and the cat’s out of the bag about TLC ‘let’s restructure SBURB’, I guess I will toss this out there. I don’t know where it came from or where it was going, but I got some fun pesterlog lines out of it.

It’s a slow morning until Aradia Megido swoops in through your open window.

“Holy shit,” you say, spilling cereal over your sheets. “Where’s the apocalypse?”

“I could use your help,” she says. “Are you busy?”

When have you ever been busy? You whiled away most of your time as a kid hobnobbing with carapaces, making up stories inspired by your mother’s books, or waiting for friends to get online. Your session had been one long wait for the gods to arrive, and your victory so far has felt like marking time until the next disaster that has always been lurking around the corner. So no, you’re not busy. Not like Aradia, who darts in and out of the house so much you’ve barely met her. She’s exploring, checking out Earth’s past and future, identifying good brooding cavern locations on the planet where the matriorb will hatch, and scouting the new universe for signs of the game sneaking through. You’d think she did it to avoid the rest of you, but she’s always friendly when she’s around – friendly enough to invite herself into your room via the window.

“For you I’m willing to snub tea with the Queen of England. What brings you to the Rogue’s windowsill? Need something burgled?”

“I am hoping your class can help me out.” Her wings fan in and out. The opacity setting’s down to let her squeeze inside, and they’re mostly the suggestion of color when the light hits them right. “I’ve been looking for signs of SGRUB that might have slipped past us, but the universe is a big place, even when you have plenty of time. I though the Rogue of Void might have better luck pinpointing what I’m looking for in the middle of so much nothing.”

“So I can’t find a needle in a haystack, but if you launch the needle into space I can latch onto that bad boy right away?” It sounds reasonable. You don’t know much about what your powers can and can’t do. Someone mixed with a game guide – even one for a different Aspect – might have a better perspective. “Why not? If I do any more thumb twiddling they’re gonna fall off. When do we leave?”

“How about now?”

God tiers can breathe in space. You hang just outside the pull of Earth’s gravity and enjoy the sensation of not burning, freezing, suffocating, irradiating, or any of the other metal ways the vacuum of space usually kills people. It’s stuff like this that makes Jade throw up her hands and grumble. Science has a lot of explaining to do.

With your eyes closed, you try to scan through the near infinite blackness. SBURB is part of you. It reconstituted your body out of light and ash. Surely you can pluck its traces out of the biggest void around.

“I think I’ve got something,” you say. “Cute little planet. Good neighborhood. Nice place to raise the kids. I’ll bring us in.”

The surface is sweltering. You push through jungles lusher than the pictures Jake sent you and jump as huge insects buzz and click past your face. There’s no sight of civilization, and Aradia offers to jump you both forward in time. There has to be sentient life here sometime. Otherwise SBURB wouldn’t have landed.

“Nah,” you say, pushing away some ferns and earning your first glimpse of the frog temple ahead. “No point in riling up the locals. Let’s take a look without interruptions.”

When you step inside, Aradia heads right for the carvings. It’s in the reptilian script you recognize from before, and you wish you’d thought to bring along the cipher you all worked out on that last day of the game.

“Sollux is the one who did the translations last time,” she says, running her fingers over the grooves in the stone. They don’t look cut but grown – and they are. No one built this temple. It hatched from a game construct launched from a session that’s paradoxically already underway. “I can’t tell from this whether it’s from the old system or not. We’ll have to take pictures.”

“On it.” Unlike in the Medium, you don’t have a connection everywhere, but you snap a picture and hope you remember to send it to him when you get home. “It’s too bad there’s not a release date stamped somewhere. Sburb 2.0, patched and modded by the alphabet soup session. No need to thank us for the continued health and safety of your civilization. We’re just that dedicated to a good gaming experience.”

“Maybe it says something like that somewhere! I can read the pictograms; it’s the code that’s throwing me.” Her voice trails off as she moves down the wall.

A pebble clatters somewhere behind you, and without thinking you wrap shadows around yourself and flicker back to the doorway. Aradia looks up.

“Thought I heard something,” you say, your face heating up. You totally bailed on her. By about five feet, but that doesn’t matter. Some brave adventurer you are. She’ll never ask for your help again.

“Temples can be spooky sometimes.”

“I wasn’t scared. I’m just on high alert. Can’t let the team anthropologist get carried off by a bunch of bloodthirsty natives. Of course all those stereotypes are pretty racist, since it’s more likely a bunch of natives will get carried off by bloodthirsty anthropologists.” Great, you’re babbling. “Point is, gotta keep on your toes. Look, maybe I should keep in touch, in case something happens and I have to zap us both home. It’ll look bad if I show up in the kitchen and then remember I ditched you a zillion light years away.”

“I can take care of myself, but if it makes you feel better, go ahead.”

You reach to grab her elbow and immediately drop it. “Whoa. You’re running hot. I thought DS and Hal were bad with the overloaded computer thing they had going on.”

She shrugs. “I’m low on the hemospectrum. I think you guys are a little chilly, actually!”

“Color-coded and temperature-controlled for your convenience.” You whistle. “You trolls really have bio-organization down pat.” You take her sleeve, loosely.

The two of you walk deeper into the temple. You’d have been in and out by now, but Aradia takes her time and you’re stuck keeping pace with her. It’s not that bad, though. She catches things you wouldn’t, stopping to coo over a butterfly fanning its wings or a patch of emerald moss growing over the stones. She’s also the one who contemplates a statue of good old Bilious Slick for a moment before pressing down on its left eye. There’s a groan of shifting rock, and a passageway opens up at your feet.

“Coming?” she asks, and pulls you down the stairs two at a time.

You leave what was left of the daylight behind you, and you’re debating draining the battery of your phone using it as a flashlight when you hit the bottom. There’s no treasure chest or pit of skeletons, like you might expect at the end of a secret temple passage, but what you do find makes your heart race nonetheless. Two circular platforms. One purple, one gold.

You look at each other. Then, together, you step onto the Derse transportalizer.

And here you are again. The darkness of the Medium spreads out in a sheet of black that looks false with its absence of stars. The purple spires of Derse reach up overhead, and it’s almost like you never left at all.

Without meaning to, you’ve let go. You rise into the air toward a tower that dwarfs most of the other structures on the moon. It’s one of six. When you reach the window, you take a breath and peer in. You’re almost expecting to see a dreamer curled up inside, maybe an evolved form of one of the planet’s insects rolling over and fluttering its wings, but the bed is empty. Of course it is. Any players for this session are a long way from being born.

Your surroundings look hazy. From the corners of your eyes, you can almost see through the Gothic architecture. You get the sense that if you turned your head too fast, huge chunks of the world might not have loaded in. “This is a potential future,” Aradia says when you touch down at her side. “It isn’t certain it’s going to happen yet.”

“I didn’t think it worked that way.”

“It didn’t before. But we’re in a new world order.”

Footsteps ring out in the street, and you see two Dersites coming your way. The halberds they’re bearing look very real. They stop a wary distance from you and gesture in your direction with deliberate motions of their hands. You’re used to this – the carapaces living near your home didn’t speak much either – so it’s your turn to translate. “They want to take us to their queen. I’m not really feeling it. You?”

She shakes her head. “If the layout’s the same, I know the nearest telepad to Prospit. Race you!”

You come in a close second, and the transportalizer spits you out on a planet of blinding gold. You take a moment to catch your breath, but as soon as you look up you lose it again. Because Skaia isn’t there.

Maybe it’s because you were a Derse dreamer, but you never liked Skaia. Its light was too harsh, like a fluorescent bulb without a dimming fixture. You’d felt it on the back of your neck with an illumination that had weight.

The light at the center of this session is softer, and it’s filled with colors. Streamers and patches of vivid light flow in undulating patterns through its depths. The chessboard tier one Battlefield isn’t visible through the haze, but you’re reminded of silk curtains drawn around a stage, all color and delicate flow.

“Aradia,” you say, with rainbow lights dancing over your skin, “I think this one’s ours.”

-- tipsyGnostalgic opened memo on board Operation Skaiasurp –

CTG: guys

CTG: we found a session we made

CTG: n im pleased 2 announce that its SUPER GAY

A system develops. You locate SBURB artifacts scattered throughout the universe and drop temporary transportalizers on site somewhere no wildlife is likely to stumble into. Then Aradia takes her crack team of amateur archaeologists/ruins pillagers to check it out and bring back the information Sollux needs to make a call. If there's access to a potential session, Rose expands her walkthrough with scraps of lore and information from agents willing to talk. She suggested bringing the sprites for their game guide insight, but Hal hasn't taken her up on it yet, and Davesprite refused in terms that another mother might wash his mouth out for.

Aradia doesn't need to tag along on your location jobs, but she does usually. You're grateful - it's nice to have the company. There's not much lonelier than outer space.

You need to be somewhere quiet and separate to focus, but floating in a void gets boring, which has led you to your favorite surveillance spot.

The Mare Cognitum stretches out before you in an expanse of dust and blasted rock. The surface beneath you should burn you (or freeze you? You're not sure of the details - maybe it's both) but being a literal goddess has its perks.

"You know, footprints here don't fade," you say, drawing a smiley face in the dust. "There's gonna be a really confused rover rolling around here someday, trying to figure out who's been walkin on the moon with converse. And poor NASA's still trying to explain the stars."

Aradia nods, eyes fixed on the Earth. Your home planet looks fragile as a dreambubble in the distance. The sight hasn't gotten old yet. It makes the trip worth it, even if you have to get a full brush-down when you return. Jade freaked when you bragged about hanging on the Moon ("There's no erosion there - the dust particles are nightmares on a molecular level! You can't bring that back here for people to breathe in”) and now you have to pass inspection before being released into the general population. Still, it's worth it, you think, as you tap your feet and send clouds of dust rising in your own localized atmosphere, each mote beautiful and invisibly deadly.

“It’s quiet here,” Aradia says.

“Well, yeah. We’re the only people in thousands of miles. There are radio waves bouncing around, though.” You put a hand to your ear. “How delayed are those? Think we could catch the Beatles?”

“That too. But I meant no one’s died here.”

“I forgot you heard dead people. Is that all the time?”

“No. And Earth is better than Alternia. There was a lot of violence there. We sent adults off planet, which cut back on the death count, but it also meant most of them were children. That made it harder to reason with them.” She points toward Earth. “Have you seen that house a block down from us with the yellow window shades? There’s a spirit there. An old woman died peacefully in bed. She’s staying around to watch over her descendants. She hasn’t moved on yet, but she’s happy. I’ve never seen that before.”

A whole planet, and not one person who died in peace. “I can’t decide if you’d love or hate museums,” you say out loud.

“Museums?”

“They’re like… whole buildings full of old shit. Art, or dinosaur bones, or whatever. You can go look at them and read about where they came from.”

Her eyes light up. “A catalogue of the past?”

“Sort of. I’ve never been to one myself, obviously. Unless you count my house.” You’d felt like you lived in a museum sometimes. Everything was an exhibit of a world that no longer existed. Sometimes, especially after talking to Jane, you felt more like you were living in a crime scene, surrounded by pieces of evidence you could use to piece together a narrative of your mother’s last years. You weren’t trying to identify the culprit – you knew who’d done it. The person you searched for scraps of information on was the victim.

She jumps to her feet. “We should go! I’d love to see it.”

“Can’t you look at Earth’s past by going there?”

“Yes, but seeing how people interpret it in the present is just as interesting.”

“If you say so.” You get up and dust yourself off as best you can. Jade will do the final scan. “We’ll do a group trip. I think everyone will be glad to get out of the house.”

It takes some coaxing, but eventually everyone agrees. You see stirring the group up as one of your sworn duties. Jane got on your case for being the team's party girl. In the bowels of a planet shaking itself apart, she'd accused you of never taking anything seriously. But sometimes people need levity. During SBURB, the sheer shittiness of your situation hadn't had a chance to fully hit you, not when you needed to stay alive. After the game, the weight finally landed, and you all dealt with it in different, terrible ways. The worst is past, but it's better to keep people occupied. The problems start when they have time on their hands. Your enthusiasm isn’t faked, either – you’ve never been to a place like this before.

Even with your more notable members incognito, a horde of teenagers entering the museum raises eyebrows. You’re not their main age bracket. Before the guards can decide to follow you around, you spread out. Terezi trails behind, stubbornly trying to read the Braille labels. She’s been teaching herself, since plain black text is harder for her to sniff out than the color coded kind. She has to keep smacking Dave away, who pretends to read the labels and makes up ridiculous stories instead while Karkat mutters along to the audio guide. Kanaya sits down in the Impressionist gallery like she’ll never move again.

You leave Rose locked in a staring contest with an extremely creepy statue of a tiny man and drag Aradia off to the museum’s one mummy. You figure if anything’s going to be haunted, it’s that.

“Nothing,” she says.

“Really?”

“Nope!”

“Man, the guy’s gonna want his money back. Some afterlife he got. It would’ve been sweet to get to visit all the world’s museums, even if you do have to deal with a bunch of class tours rubbing their noses on the glass.”

“This is how some of your cultures sent off the dead?” She bends down to look at the peeling hieroglyphics. “It’s fascinating. They knew how to throw a corpse party.”

“Biggest damn corpse party around.”

You follow her through room after room (John and Jane challenged each other to find the grossest baby Jesus and almost crash into you while racing through the Medieval section) and she stops in front of an oil painting. “Is that haunted?” you ask. “Will the eyes start following us around Scooby Doo style?”

“It’s not haunted, but…” She peers closer. “The creator left a little bit of themselves behind, and I can feel it. They must have loved their work very much.”

The painting is from four hundred years ago. You try to imagine making something with so much love someone can still feel it, that much later.

Your path takes you out to a main courtyard, and Aradia sinks down on the edge of a fountain. "This is incredible," she says. "I wish we'd had something like it on Alternia. Some highbloods collected memorabilia, but it wasn't organized like this, and we couldn't come visit whenever we wanted."

"Maybe that can be a career goal, now that we're all cogs in the capitalist machinery again. Can't keep living off Jane's inheritance forever."

"Career?"

"You know, job?” You wave a hand vaguely. Real World Twenty-First Century TM shenanigans are something you’ve only studied in the abstract. “What you do when you grow up so you can pay for shit. Of course that involves going to school usually, which would be an accomplishment for most of us."

"This can be a job?"

"Someone has to do it. What did you guys do on your planet?"

"Lowbloods like me would get assigned menial tasks in support of the Empire’s basic functions. If we showed useful skills we'd be conscripted into the Empress's forces to conquer new worlds. With my powers, I'm sure they'd want me." She shivers and dips her fingers into the water. "They'd want Sollux too."

"What, there's a demand for tech skills there too?"

"Something like that. So you can choose here? What would you pick?" she asks, a little too brightly.

You shrug. "Growing up in the future there weren't many career options except fisherwoman and apocalypse gear model. Now... I dunno. I kinda liked messing around with the frog's DNA back on our last day in the game, making all those tiny little changes that made huge differences. I know it's not like that in real life, but genetics might be cool. Making something besides mutant kitties. Maybe I could cure non-universe cancer."

“That sounds neat.”

It does. You hadn’t voiced it before, but now that you have, you wonder why it hadn’t occurred to you. There are lots of ways to make the world a better place. Sometimes you change the way the whole multiverse system works, but sometimes you can work a little closer to home.

A few weeks later, you visit Calliope while she’s touching up the latest comics pages she and Jake have drawn. Almost everyone has been a guest artist for them; who can say no to that face? Someday soon your Catwoman expy will bust out of prison again. Her colors are more muted and smudgy than usual. Still lifes and landscapes were her favorites at the museum, but she liked Impressionism too.

"I wanted to ask you," she says. "Next time you go to one of those sessions that belongs to us, can I come?"

"They're kinda boring," you say. It kills you knowing you're in a universe where Calliope will grow up bullied and alone and time has tied your hands. All your instincts say not to let her near another game session.

She frowns – she can tell when you’re babying her, and she always puts her foot down. "You all helped, but I made it in the end. I want to know I did it right."

In the end, you cave, like you always do. (Jane got talked into letting her buy a whole tub of edible glitter on the last shopping trip.) The first session you located is only a transportalizer hop away. You don’t let go of Calliope’s hand the whole time. If anything goes wrong, she’s not getting left behind. When she sees the replacement Skaia up above you, she gasps, and you tighten your grip on her fingers.

“Can you… talk to it?” you ask after she’s been staring, rapt, for a few minutes. “Is it you?”

She blinks, jarred out of whatever trance she was in. “Oh! No. It’s not like that. It’s not a person. Skaia wasn’t the other me either, exactly. It was more… a way of thought that had been installed. Closer to an AI, although nothing as advanced as Hal of course. It doesn’t have a soul. It’s the same thing here.” She floats upward, and you bob along after her. “I can see what influences I left behind, but it’s chosen its own way to develop. It looks like painting water.” Before you have time to worry about the consequences, she dips her hand into the lights. The colors swirl around her fingers and form the suggestion of shapes. It looks like two people standing on a foreign landscape, but before you can make out the details the image breaks apart again.

“Not as high def as the clouds,” you say.

“It’s not fixed.” She pulls her hand out, and you almost expect her fingers to be streaked with color. Of course, they’re clean. “It *is* like paints – there’s the base materials, but you can make different pictures yourself.”

“Possibilities.”

Calliope sinks downward to stand on the gold brick walkway, and you settle next to her. “That’s what we fought for.”

You squeeze her hand. “You did good."

“You found this place with Aradia?” she asks.

“Yup.”

She nods, eyes tracking the swirls overhead. “Hmm.”

“Hmm what?”

Calliope shrugs. “Nothing!”

“Bullshit. You said that hmm intentionally. But two can play at that game.” You turn your head. “I’m ignoring you.”

“I am a chronicler, Roxy. I like to know what’s going on so I can take good notes.”

“You mean you want to stick your nose into all our biz. Well, I’m not having it.”

She keeps her expression professional. “Is there what you would refer to as “biz”?”

Is there? You hadn’t thought about it. You guess… you don’t mind hanging out with her. Any day when she shows up asking if you want to check out a new planet is a good one. She’s got a nice laugh. But beyond that… You’ve had so many false starts it’s hard to distinguish between genuine attraction and your latest desperate crush. You’d committed to taking it easy for a while to “find yourself” or some shit instead of chasing after people just because you don’t want to be alone. How do you tell when that process is over? Does a little light go on; does the oven ‘ding’ and say Roxy’s ready? The problem with self-development is that there’s no progress bar, and no one hands you an achievement badge. You have to gauge those kinds of things on your own.

The pause has been dragging on too long. This calls for drastic action. “Oh no, the gravity on this planet is way too high,” you say, collapsing on her shoulder. “I can’t stand up.”

Calliope is sturdy despite her slight frame. Your weight doesn’t make her stumble. “I’ll take this as a no comment, then.”

“Damn straight.” You slouch a little more for good measure and then stand up. “If there ends up being something solid to comment on, which at the moment there is not, you’ll get the scoop from me. But until then, no sensational tabloid journalism, ok ma’am? You have ethics to consider.”

“Cross my hearts,” she says solemnly.

“Double the protection. I dig it.” You shake your head. Now that Calliope’s introduced the idea, you can’t seem to knock it loose. “Let’s get out of here before some chess people think we belong in jail.”

TG: hey jane

TG: wut activities might u recommend for introducing an eligible alien bachelorette to the wide world of humanity

TG: i ask bc uve appointed urself seeing eye human 2 ur own space invader

TG: evn tho i swear she gets around better than most of us ffs

GG: Still sour about her getting the last cupcake? :B

TG: that cupcake had my name on it and u kno it

GG: You snooze, you lose!

GG: We watched your future torrent of Broadchurch last night.

TG: ok ur translation thing is totes adorbs but a

TG: thats not rly introducing her to the WORLD

TG: and b

TG: i dont need competition from david tennants face

GG: What about Jodie Whittaker?

TG: she was p hot as the 13th doctor ngl fashion choices aside but shes 2 woeful in that one 4 my tastes

GG: Wait, what??

TG: WHOOPS

TG: pretend i didnt say anything bc SPOILERS :X

GG: :/ GG: Just to make sure I’m not off base, we’re talking about Aradia here, right? TG: mayb GG: So you two are an item now? TG: no

TG: i mean TG: not rly

TG: weve been hanging out

TG: n then callie IMPLIED there might be something goin on and I thought welllll TG: u kno

TG: shes cute + fun + im super single

TG: so why not give it a shot rite

GG: Why not indeed.

GG: As for a grand tour of humanity, I don't know.

GG: What does she like?

TG: shes down 4 everything thats the problem

TG: if i set her loose shed probably come back having joined the circus

TG: or the mob

TG: anything fuckin goes

GG: You've been out beyond the solar system so much, I doubt there's anything that exciting to see here.

GG: Maybe you should just treat her to... a regular day out!

GG: Show her what you two have been missing gallivanting around in outer space.

TG: hm

TG: mayb

TG: btw when r u gonna make ur """"thing"""" official n stop wanderin around the perimeter tryin not 2 set the proximity lights off

GG: I don't know!

GG: When are you going to admit you're angling for tips on a date?!

TG: hey now

GG: How does that old rhyme go?

GG: Roxy and Aradia, sitting on the moon.

GG: K-I-S

TG: H-A-V-I-N-G personal + emotional conversations that r none of ur damn business n shouldnt b construed from

TG: u big buffoon <- rhyme scheme bitches

TG: but like

TG: in strict confidence

TG: comin from someone who walked u thru the BISIS and so deserves some fuckin respect here

TG: were u gettin vibes of any sort off her

TG: by any chance

GG: Roxy, she's spent maybe a month tops on the planet!

TG: uh huh

TG: and ur gettin vibes off ME bc im the desperate loser who tried to mack on john 2 seconds after meeting him

GG: I can't believe you've set your sights on every possible interpretation of my father figures.

TG: lol i do it JUST 2 annoy u

GG: And I wasn't going to say that! I just haven't seen the two of you interacting that much, is all.

GG: The problem before was that you felt lonely, right?

GG: That's what you told John, that you were looking for a relationship so there would be someone for you.

GG: Do you still feel lonely?

TG: nah

GG: I should hope not! We're bursting at the seams here.

GG: You spent all of yesterday holed up with Dirk and Jade working on those transportalizers.

TG: it wouldve gone faster if sollux had helped instead of complaining about how i beat him @ mario kart

TG: 'this game looks like it was programmed by a wiggler smearing its own droppings on its hiveblock walls' my ass i won fair and square

GG: Oh, is THAT why I saw him playing that game at 2 am this morning?

GG: Karkat was his competitor, but I don't think it was much of a contest.

TG: trainin 4 a rematch huh

TG: he can try

TG: earths champion will remain unquestioned

TG: damn tho 2 am is like peak wildlife sighting time in the living room

GG: They haven't quite shaken being nocturnal!

GG: Anyway if you're not feeling lonely, maybe this is authentic.

GG: Maybe you really do like her.

GG: You wouldn't be the first among us to seek out an extraterrestrial paramour!

TG: no i would not ;) ;)

TG: (wonking intensifies)

GG: Hush, you!

GG: How come we haven’t had to watch you go through one of these “bi crises”?

GG: If I recall, you spent most of your time singing the praises of the menfolk earlier in our adventure.

TG: the menfolk

TG: u did it jane u singlehandedly got rid of any attraction i had 2 them good job

TG: no no jk jk

TG: like

TG: idk

TG: part of it was i didnt want to weird u out

GG: Ah yes, dear sweet Jane who can’t handle the truth again.

TG: look u barely grasped the concept of bisexuality!!!

TG: i didnt want u treatin me weird ok???

GG: I would never have done that to you.

TG: not INTENTIONALLY

TG: but r u SURE u wouldn’t be like ‘w8 r u hittin on me then’ or some shit

GG: …

GG: Maybe. I could cram my foot in my mouth with the best of them sometimes.

GG: So it was all a ruse for my benefit?

TG: not entirely

TG: u kno I was tryin so hard 2 b what the empress didn’t want me 2 b

TG: + part of that was embracing the conventional 21st century girl routine

TG: which is also unfortunately super het most of the time

TG: dunno y i was tryin 2 prove myself 2 an evil alien witch + loads of dead peeps but there u go

TG: let her wall me in2 a corner there unfortunately

TG: but evn if i wasnt as DIRECT about it

TG: i always knew

TG: ppl r hot janey

TG: loads of ppl r so hot n im not gonna discriminate there

GG: Aradia does have some charm.

GG: It can’t hurt to try it out.

GG: Have a day planetside! See the sights.

TG: mayb ur right

TG: doin something NORMAL might sort some shit out

TG: c if she actually likes hangin w/ me or is comin out just 2 b polite

GG: Good luck.

GG: And Roxy?

TG: ye

GG: I think anyone should be happy to hang with you. :)

TG: <3

It’s hard to decide what to show as examples of “daily life” when it’s all strange to you too. In the end, you elect to wander. The two of you stroll downtown, drifting toward storefronts or flowerbeds whenever something catches your interest. It’s too bad malls died out. They’d be perfect for this kind of activity.

You're still not used to big crowds, but you breathe deep, straighten your spine, and remind yourself you're a god. Aradia, on the other hand, loves it. She strikes a pose mimicking a mannequin and exclaims over a set of tiny measuring cups. Watching her, something inside you unspools. You're not a god, or an outsider; you're just two girls checking out some stores. For all anyone knows, you’re on a shopping trip.

“Hey,” you say, reaching for something familiar. “Want to stop by a makeup counter?”

It’s different actually sitting down at one of these things instead of nabbing what looks good with your appearifier. You don’t know which sample to try out first. Luckily there’s a self-service option with a bunch of temporary applicators. You don’t want some sales person messing with your face. “Hey,” you say, grabbing a tube of lipstick. “I bet this would look great on you.”

Aradia takes it, and her eyebrows rise. “Gold? That’s a high caste marker. If I wear cosmetics, I’m supposed to wear my colors. Or my moirail’s, if I had one.”

“They regulated makeup? Truly a sign of a dystopia.” You pick through the available samples to see if you can find any of your favorites. “Normally I wouldn’t recommend gold with gray, but you’ve got warm enough undertones. Now Terezi? No way.”

She uncaps the lipstick and eyes it. "You're good at this."

"Learned by watching old Youtube tutorials and ganking samples from makeup counters in the past. Callie liked it too, so we bonded a lot. Of course I didn't know then she was covering up the whole skull alien thing. I just thought she was insecure. Who wouldn't be, with her jerkass bro calling her ugly all the time?"

She doesn't need to know all the details. Only Dirk and Calliope know everything, although you've kinda sorta mentioned it to Jake and Jane, not that you think they fully understood. You hadn’t aspired to Platonic girldom only to rub it in the Empress’s face. It's funny how applying the trappings of femininity from a dead civilization could still ease your dysphoria a little, even though it's not like a bunch of judges from Ladies Weekly were watching and nodding in approval. You're in a God Tier body now, every cell fresh baked and new. No clerk is going to steer you away from the women's section.

“How does it look?” Aradia asks, jolting you out of your thoughts. She’s found some sort of glittery eyeshadow too and managed to get it on perfectly. It looks great on her.

“You’re pretty,” you say out loud, and then regret it. You didn’t mean to sound surprised. It’s just that Aradia has always been Aradia. She hits you with her personality first, and that overpowers everything else.

She doesn’t get offended, but she sure gets even. “You’re prettier than I thought at first too.”

Your smile drops. “Gee, thanks.”

She frowns. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Not if that’s what you meant to say.”

“I try to say what I mean. It’s good to be honest.” Her gilded lips twist into the closest you’ve ever seen to a frown from her. “But sometimes people don’t seem to like it. You humans look so different. It took getting used to. I mean, your hair’s light, and you’re not even old. Once you get over that, though, it makes for a nice picture.”

“Do you wanna frame me?”

She hesitates. “Did I mess up again?”

“Nah, I’m messin with you. It’s ok if you’re blunt, god knows Jake’s noshing on his foot all the time and we still love him, toenail breath and all. Our gang could use a lil more plain speaking. Just go easy on my self esteems, ok?”

“Ok…” She drops her latest applicator into the used cup and clears her throat. “Is there a mirror?”

You find one for her, and she giggles at her reflection. “I look like I’m pretending to be an Heiress.”

“Come on, your fishy highness,” you say. “Let’s check out the park.”

A rack of city bikes for rent stands near the entrance to the park, and she rushes over. “Two wheeled transportation devices! I haven’t used one of these since I was a wiggler.”

Jane’s been busy practicing to get her license, but John has coached you on a few wobbly laps around the neighborhood. How hard can it be? You’re a god, for fuck’s sake. “I’ve got some change. Want to try them out?”

It takes a circuit of the park before you’re moving smoothly, but your confidence grows with every minute. Even if Aradia learned on another planet, she hasn’t forgotten. She careens past you, laughing maniacally, and you pedal faster to catch up. "Watch out for the curve!" you yell, but it's too late. She skids off into the grass, leans so hard to the left you think she's going to flip over, and then crashes into a pond, sending a flock of ducks flapping for safety.

She's God Tier just like you, but you still turn an ankle jumping off and running over. "Are you ok?"

She's still laughing, sitting down in the water with her knees green with pond slime and her hair hanging in dark tangles around her shoulders. The gold lipstick, against all odds, has hung on. Damn good product design. "That was GREAT."

"No rainbow sparklies, so I guess you got off easy."

"I've taken much harder knocks than this." She stands up, dripping muddy water. "I'd better rescue the bike, though."

You're both wheeling them back onto the path when you see the orange vests of park security. "Uh oh." Maybe you should stay and explain yourselves, but years of dodging drones has made you suspicious of law enforcement, and you don't want humans asking Aradia too many questions. Hell, you don't know if you could answer all that many. You're practically an alien temporally. If you woke up from a faint to someone asking you who the president was, you’d have no fuckin idea. "Want to run for it?"

Aradia doesn't answer, just drops her bike and sprints for the trees.

You follow, and you're both laughing hysterically between breaths. Aradia keeps gasping "They're after us" with the glee of a kid running into a toy store. The security officers don't bother following you - you see them stop to collect your bikes - but neither of you stop running until you collapse against a mossy boulder deeper into the woods. You press your hands against your thighs and catch your breath, while Aradia's giggles slowly die down.

"Now that was more like Alternia," she says. "They wouldn't cull us if they caught us here, would they?"

"What? No, no way." Is that why she'd run so fast? "They might check to see if we were drunk and kick us out. We don't kill people for existing here." Then again... John told you about being followed by the clerk the last time he went to a gas station for a soda. Rose holds Kanaya’s hand in public like a challenge. "It's not as obvious as the hemospectrum," you say at last. "It's not supposed to work that way. Sometimes it does, though." Is that better? At least Alternia was up front about listing off who got protection and who got killed. Here, they pretend things don't work that way, but kids end up dead all the same. "It's not paradise."

"Nowhere is."

You run your fingers over the boulder. Someone, sometime, has scratched their initials into it. "Maybe once I've lived here longer I'll want to keep looking for something better. But I guess it hasn't lost its shine yet. Like, maybe people suck, but you know what sucks more? Being one of the only people on the planet.”

Her gaze snaps over to you. “Do you think that’s why I leave so often?”

You hadn’t meant it that way. Once she’s brought it up, though... she does bail pretty regularly. “I don’t know. Almost as soon as we got here you were zooming off to the past or the future or other planets. Did you get sick of us that quickly?”

“No, not at all!” She tucks a waterlogged strand of hair behind her ear. “But there’s so much to see, even if I have all the time in the world. I got excited.”

“You’d think you’d seen a lot already. You were bumping around in everyone’s memories, right?”

“I guess so. But the dream bubbles aren’t real, exactly, and in SGRUB I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to appreciate the sights. Back on Alternia I was a peasant class. I had to be careful exploring because I might risk being attacked. Traveling isn’t safe for the lower castes. Now…” she spreads her arms. “I have a chance.”

“I spent my whole life staring at the same bit of ocean. So I get wanting to see something else. But I’m worried if I leave for too long, they’ll keep making friends without me, and I won’t be able to catch up, you know?”

It’s easy to feel that way when for so long your only presence in your friends’ lives was a flashing icon on a computer screen. If they didn’t want to talk they could click you away. In the session, you’d felt worthy of your Aspect, fading into the background while everyone spiraled around the Jake English event horizon. Being technically doomed makes it worse. You know they won’t turn you away, but you can’t help worrying the timeline will suddenly catch on and expel you, or you’ll come back from a trip to space and they’ll have forgotten you after all.

“My friends and I have spent a long time together,” Aradia says, snapping you out of morbid daydreams. “Not those versions, exactly, but almost every other. Actually, it’s nice to spend time with someone new.”

“I can see where you’re coming from. I mean, I don’t have five billion friend memories, but we’ve got baggage. Hells of baggage. Imagine one of those movie timeskips with all the spinning headlines.” Those exist, too. The Derse tabloids had started out writing nasty rumors about Jake and Jane, but they labeled you and Dirk traitors soon enough. “Drama, drama. But it’s not enough that I ever wanted to run away, or at least not for long.”

“I’m not running away!”

“I meant for me,” you say, although it sounds like you’ve touched a nerve.

Aradia leans against the boulder and shifts away from you. "When I visit other places, I'm not passing judgment on your planet, or on you,” she says. “Maybe we just have different priorities."

The comment sounds like a rebuke, and it stings. Why would you be a priority to this girl from outer space, anyway? You only met a few months ago. And yet… admit it or not, she’s becoming a priority to you.

Chalk one more up to the not interested column, you think. Out loud, you say, “Wanna get home? The security people might remember to do their jobs and track us down.”

“Ok.” Aradia looks back at you and smiles, but in your eyes at least, it looks forced. “Thanks for showing me around. It was nice.”

“Anytime,” you say. What you don’t say is, if you stay.

-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] started pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] --

TG: hey mom lil help here

TT: I'm the mother today?

TG: yup bc i need guidance

TT: Ok, let me put on my required string of pearls.

TT: Mental, emotional, or spiritual?

TG: do i gotta pick

TT: Generic guidance it is.

TG: hows dating an alien goin

TT: Swimmingly.

TT: I've leveled up to being able to unironically express affection without my face heating to the boiling point.

TT: It's my part to slow global climate change.

TG: im proud of u

TT: Thank you.

TG: so i was wonderin if the 2 of u evr have misunderstandings

TG: u kno communication probs that come from like

TG: CULTURAL HIJINKS

TT: Ceaselessly.

TT: At least the two of us didn't have to work through the "murder as a competitive sport" cognitive dissonance.

TT: To put it in her words, Kanaya is "The Weak Bitch Who Is Only Down With Murder When Absolutely Necessary And Even Then I Prefer Not To Get My Clothes Dirty"

TG: of all of us arent u the bitch most down with murder

TG: evn if technically jade n jane got u beat

TT: I may in fact be that bitch.

TT: Or I'm all talk. Hard to say.

TG: yeah i think janes had 2 have the whole murder as a cultural value talk but i was thinkin more like

TG: idk

TG: priorities

TG: r they not super social

TG: do they not grasp the concept of TALKING or HAVING FUN

TT: Allegedly trolls are not a social race.

TT: There tends to be a lot of infighting. There used to be twelve of them, remember?

TG: ye we hung out w/ their corpses

TT: It can make them struggle with interaction.

TT: Something we of course excel at.

TG: totes

TT: Kanaya was worried making me talk about my feelings would push us in the wrong quadrant.

TT: Part of that was her personal history, though. It’s complicated.

TT: We all have our neuroses.

TG: ok ok now sidenote TG: this isnt rly important xcept for like TG: my personal self esteems

TG: did kanaya evr think u looked weird

TG: u kno since ur not a troll

TT: Hang on, let me text her.

TT: She says, "You Looked Strange At First But I Got Used To It".

TG: harsh

TT: The betrayal.

TT: The heartbreak.

TT: Etc.

TT: Does that answer your question?

TG: i guess????

TG: idk aradia was kinda super blunt but im not sure she meant it that way???

TG: she seemed surprised i got touchy about it so i guess i was overreactin

TT: You realize they have different personalities too, right?

TT: Although bluntness does seem to be common.

TG: shouldnt xpect were poster hotties for another species

TG: maybe alternia didnt have a devoted cadre of monsterfuckers just waitin 4 their chance

TT: Their depravity knows some bounds.

TT: Also,

TT: Dave says if you shack up with an alien he's disowning you.

TG: tu or tg

TT: Which do you think?

TG: ily kiddo but maybe well gang up on u and disown U instead

TG: how do u like them apples

TT: i hate this family

TG: b a good son and give rose her keyboard back

TT: I'm on my phone, actually.

TG: what is he evn doing there

TT: The five of us are playing Scrabble.

TT: John just deployed the Q on a triple letter score. Things are getting heated.

TG: and uve got me on speaker

TT: No, I think he caught a glimpse of my screen while trying to spy on which letters I have.

TT: I'm not actually spelling out your personal business on the board.

TT: Jade wants to know if you had fun on your date, by the way.

TG: for FUCKS sake

TT: This household keeps no secrets.

TG: it was FINE EVERYTHINGS FINE TG: weifjsdlk

TG: heres a bunch of letters for ur scrabble game im out

Not long after your "date", Aradia fucks off into nowhere again. You've been spending a lot of time out in space yourself, so you try to distract yourself by hanging out with everyone else. Can't afford to miss out on whatever in-jokes have sprung up lately. There's nothing worse than being left out of the latest household meme.

It goes alright. Jade's been teaching you to read music. Calliope wants help brainstorming her Halloween costume. Davesprite trashes Alternians for your benefit until you tell him to knock it off. But when you find yourself at loose ends, you get testy. Being alone isn't a value marker. You know that. At least, you hope you do. But it's oh so easy to feel like it's a judgment made by everybody else.

You’re not sure why you’re sulking so much. You’ve been rejected before. Of course, John was a crush born of one shared, terrible experience, and he’s a good friend now. Deep down you’d always known Dirk was off limits. Maybe it hurts this time because you thought you might have a chance, that someone might actually like you, and then they left the whole planet to get away. Serves you right for hoping.

-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] started pestering timaeusTestified [TT] --

TG: hey wanna hang out

TT: I'd love to, but I'm on dinner duty tonight.

TT: I've got like twenty recipe websites open now, and I think my internal monologue has been replaced by a middle aged white woman who's losing interest in her marriage.

TT: Then I have to get Jane to drive me to the store before she coaches me through things like boiling water.

TT: Didn't you remember? You're usually first in line to watch me humiliate myself in the kitchen.

TG: idk

TG: guess i thought maybe SOMEONE in this house of like TWENTY FUCKIN PEOPLE might be free 2 spend time w/ me

TT: Uh.

TT: Wait, seriously, is everyone else gone?

TG: i dunno

TG: feels like it

TG: or mayb im just used 2 getting ditched lately

TG: like the last stick of gum in the package chucked out the car window n oozing pink goo all over in the gutter

TT: This Aradia thing has really gotten to you, huh?

TG: no its fine im over it

TG: i dont know how srs i even was it was prolly another of my stupid infatuations bc some1 looked at me

TG: and shes not interested so wutevr

TG: im just bored

TT: Trust me, I don’t prioritize you over this fucking recipe odyssey.

TT: However, I also would rather not get eaten alive by a bunch of people asking where their dinner is.

TT: I’m minimizing the tab, though. You’ve got my full attention.

TT: Do you want me to come upstairs?

TG: no not if its gonna be some psychoanalysis session

TG: thats the LAST thing i want

TT: I haven’t been treating you like that, have I?

TG: no!!

TG: its not ur fault its just TG: shed rather be zippin around in space than here with us n when i brought it up she basically said i wasnt a priority 2 her

TT: Just like that?

TG: i mean

TG: MORE OR LESS

TT: Lest I talk about myself, this sounds a little like the problem I had with Jake.

TG: which 1

TT: Jesus.

TT: When he started getting distant, I assumed it was something I'd done.

TT: And then I overreacted by clinging tighter like a shellshocked ball python, because I was terrified of him slipping away.

TT: If I'd asked him why he was backing off, and he'd told me he needed some space, maybe we could've skipped some of the resulting interpersonal bloodbath.

TG: whoa whoa slow down

TG: r u

TG: dirk MOTHERfuckin strider

TG: tryin 2 give me relationship advice

TT: It's not from me.

TT: I'm paraphrasing a demiurge who looked down upon me from his golden snake-throne and in the hissing language of Heart itself said,

TT: "Talk to your ex, you piece of shit."

TG: lmao is that rly what he said

TT: There was more poetry involved.

TG: quote it to me xactly i wanna hear this

TT: I didn't write it down.

TT: The exact words were lost in the overall sentiment of the moment.

TG: which was pants shitting terror

TT: Actually by that point I was more annoyed that one more fucking game construct was passing judgment on my life choices.

TG: 2 pissed 2 b afraid

TG: ur natural defense mechanism

TT: Whatever works.

TT: He was right, though.

TT: We weren't holding hands and prancing through a field of daisies after talking it out, but it did make things better.

TG: i mean

TG: u were KINDA holdin hands

TG: if only 2 not die

TT: I don't think that counts.

TG: the fact remains

TG: so ur sayin

TG: i should ask her y shes avoidin me + the planet earth

TG: evn tho last time i broached the subject she flipped out

TT: Yeah, maybe.

TT: If it’s important to you to try to see if this thing can work.

TG: and if she says 'its specifically 2 avoid u' what then

TT: I don't think that's likely.

TT: But if she does, then it's her fucking loss.

TT: You're amazing, Roxy.

TT: Anyone would be lucky to have you.

TG: aw shucks

TT: I'm serious.

TT: Remember when we had the whole group bonding thing in the heart of a self-destructing planet?

TT: It kind of rubbed off on me, I think I've learned how to be motivational.

TG: the old dirk wouldve built a 'how 2 date' robot and unleashed it rite

TT: And then the robot would steal your girl, and I would be in the shit again.

TT: I've learned my lesson.

TG: thx

TG: ill give it a try 4 u ok

TG: and if u want my input i vote pick the recipe w/ the cutest baby pictures in the anecdote

You must draft a hundred opening lines. Maybe you even would have sent one of them eventually, but Aradia beats you to it, showing up on the front porch one day without bothering to tell anyone she was coming home. You’re alone in the living room watching My Cat From Hell, so you’re the first one to see her.

“Hi Roxy!” she says, and you nearly throw the remote across the room.

“Oh. Hey.” You fumble with the buttons until you find mute. This isn’t what you planned for. You’d kinda assumed when you worked up the guts to talk to her it’d be through chat. Face to face is more vulnerable. She’ll be able to see what your expression does instead of what you choose to reveal with carefully selected typography. You can’t even DO a :/ in real life that easily.

“Did I miss anything?” She takes off her goofy Indiana Jones hat and tosses it discus-style onto an armchair.

“Nothing much.” You’d come up with something witty but, uh, comeback machine broke. Now there’s a meme you can’t use without getting blank stares.

She nods. “I found another new world with the game. Want to check it out?”

She’s acting like nothing’s changed. That rankles you. “If you found it already, you don’t need me.”

“I don’t need you, but it’s not as fun on my own. I thought you might like to come.”

You point toward the armchair. “You put your hat down. You’re not going to stay at all? In and out, just like that?”

“Are you upset?”

“No. I… You still… want to hang out?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Her wings flutter. That’s a tic you’ve noticed with DS – he tucks and untucks them when he’s nervous, an adaptation of Dave interlacing his fingers. Is she on edge?

“Well, you kinda bailed. And we’d just…” Argued? Split? “I thought it might be my fault.”

“Of course not.” Her wings are really jittery now. A lock of hair is blown forward, and she reaches up to tuck it back. “It gets a little much down here sometimes.”

“Guess a crash course in human life was too much for any of us.”

“It was kind of overwhelming.” She smiles. “But it was fun too. I’d like to do it again sometime.”

Wait, what? “Like, in general, or you mean with me?”

“You did an excellent job as tour guide last time. I’m sure you can find more to show me.”

Is she flirting? She delivers every line so on the level it’s impossible to tell. “Uh, well, name the date,” you say. “There’s a whole damn world and I haven’t seen most of it either.”

“I’ll be in touch.” Her wings finally settle and fade into nothing. “Now I’d better see whether Sollux has converted my room into a file cabinet again.”

It’s only once she’s gone that you realize you didn’t do any of the things Dirk suggested. You still don’t know why she keeps leaving. You told her you weren’t upset. Sheesh. Maybe you need to visit Nix again so your own personal snake goddess can tell you how much you suck.

Time passes. You’ve learned to recognize the first few bars of Never Gonna Give You Up on a treble staff. Jane snags her license. Calliope’s Halloween costume is a hit. You don’t know what you and Aradia are. She still comes and goes without warning. When she’s around, you’ve taken her a few places – to an arcade, to the zoo. The outings are fun, but you’ve never even taken her hand for anything but transportation purposes. What’s the point of getting close to someone who might not be there tomorrow? The last time, she’d said, “I had fun!” and you’d said, “Yeah, me too” and shoved your hands into your pockets. She’d looked almost disappointed, but what was she expecting? Sollux has been giving you dirty looks. You give him dirtier ones right back. If he thinks you’re toying with his bffsy’s heart, he can take it up with her.

December 21 is drawing near. Some crackpots with a big following insist the Mayan's calendar ends here and, rather than considering it might work like the modern kind, have assumed the world is ending. You don't remember which of you suggested an apocalypse survivors party as a joke, but it caught on, and at some point as the concept snowballed it gained sincerity. It's 2012. The world already ended, although only you and a few friends know. The world was gone, and it came back, and you're still here. You're all still here.

Plus, it gets rid of the problem of picking which cultural holiday to celebrate all together.

You stay close to home to help with preparations, and Aradia sets a personal record staying put for over two weeks straight. John insists on showing the trolls every holiday movie he can get his hands on for cultural immersion, and you and Jake now have to put up with choruses of “You’ll shoot your eye out”. Rose and Dave are having a truly horrendous ugly sweater competition. The 21st rolls around, and while a bunch of tinfoil hat enthusiasts are expecting the world go up in flames, you party. Jade has strewn greenery yanked from the woods everywhere. Kanaya found some ornate candlesticks at a thrift shop that elevate the table’s style, even if a few people have already almost set their sleeves on fire. Karkat gets weepy giving an impromptu speech, and you all cheer to cover your own watery eyes. You made it. You really did.

Calliope breaks the tension by unveiling an actual physical scrapbook she’s been putting together out of pictures copied from phones and snapped in secret. There are green cherub thumbs in a few corners, but that adds to their charm. The group spends a few minutes flipping through the pages documenting the last eight months. There’s Jake posing on one of the statues in the museum’s sculpture garden (directly before near-apprehension by museum security). There’s Dirk and Dave in their matching fake college hoodies, which spurred a flurry of copycat orders. There’s Jane sweating bullets behind the wheel for the first time while her dad gives her an encouraging fatherly thumbs up. It’s your lives for the past nine months, flat on paper with decorative paper framing. After your first sixteen years, it’s amazing that a life can be so full.

Most people clear out of the dining room after that, although at some point Jade will strongarm people into tag teaming the dishes. Jake is trying to convince John that Pacific Rim is the perfect film for the season, even if it won't officially come out for another year. Davesprite keeps ambushing people with a camera.

You pick up your glass (sparkling cider, of course; you cleared the local grocery store out of their selection) and slip outside. The bright lights from inside stream out into the shadowy backyard. You tilt the glass and let the last few carbonated drops trickle into the dead grass. "Happy apocalypse day," you mutter.

"Same to you."

You jump, and the glass tinkles to the ground. "Shit, you scared me."

Aradia's smile fades. She's leaning up against the side of the house, her dark hair merging into the shadows. "I thought you knew I was here. Who were you talking to?"

You shrug and bend down to pick up the glass. There's a chip in the rim. "It's stupid."

"Doubt it."

"It is."

"Dare you to tell me."

"I was talking to the other Roxy. Dead Roxy." You look up at the sky with its strange new stars. "She'd hate to miss a party like this."

Aradia walks over to join you in contemplation of the heavens. This close, her body heat chases off the chill. "I like to think the dead go somewhere happy. It makes up for some of the unhappiness here."

"Are you unhappy?"

"No, I can't complain."

You try to remember when she slipped out here. After dinner? She'd had a ball with the party blowers and hit Sollux a few times on the nose. "Why are you out here?"

"I was thinking about leaving. I've been here for a few weeks."

"But it's holiday season!"

"There's so much left to see. Lots and lots of planets, and the past and future of all of them. They're waiting for me."

"Let them wait."

Aradia folds her arms over her chest. It’s cold out – the warmth from the party is leaching off your skin. With her body temperature, does she feel it?

"Why do you keep running away?" you ask. “You said you like to tell the truth. And I want to understand. See, Jake was always running away, because we were putting so much pressure on him and he didn’t know how to deal. That didn’t mean he didn’t want to hang with us, he was just getting the social version of a DDOS attack. So if it’s really because you like it better out there than down here, I can live with that. I’ll stop bothering you. But if it’s something I can change… I’d like to help. I’d like to see you stay.”

Aradia sighs. Her breath streams out in a puff of white. "No one told me to guide the dead,” she says. “It's something I decided to do, and I was good at it. The furthest ring is strange at first, but heroes of our Aspects master it quickly. I mastered my friends too. I knew exactly what they need and what to say to them. I don't anymore.” She glances behind you, where silhouettes move behind the sliding glass door. “This... all this, even them, it's new. I'm not sure I'm good at it."

Living together means sometimes you overhear conversations you shouldn’t. A month or so ago, one of your pictures toppled off the windowsill, and you’d gone rooting around behind the bushes looking for it when you heard Aradia and Terezi walking by. Terezi snapped, “I didn’t ask to be part of another of your handholding therapy sessions.”

You sunk deeper into the bushes and cloaked yourself in void. This sounded like a bad time for Terezi to sniff you out. “I thought it might help,” Aradia replied.

“I don’t need help. I know all that stuff about guilt and responsibility. I just need to be sad for a while. Remember sad? You used to brood all the time in our session when you weren’t breaking things as destruction therapy.” Shit, this was definitely something you shouldn’t be overhearing.

“I’m sorry.” Aradia’s tone stayed level. “Other versions of you were happy to hear what I had to say.”

“I bet they were.” Terezi groaned, and you could imagine her pressing her fingers to her forehead. “I know you want to be nice. After the last few sweeps it’s sweet someone does. I was in a bad place, and I would have appreciated this then, but now I need a chance to get over it on my own. We’re not the dreamers you spent so much time with. The same solutions won’t work with us. I appreciate it, but it’s frustrating when you’re treating me like a machine that you can punch the right combination of platitudes into and a happy ending will pop out.” She’d paused, and when Aradia stayed silent, said, “That sounded mean, didn’t it? I’m not very good at being nice. I’m sure you picked that up.”

“You’ve given me things to think about,” Aradia said. She didn’t sound angry. She never has.

“Yeah, and I’ll think about what you’ve said too, but mostly I need time. The kind even you heroes can’t give me.”

“If I can ever help –”

Terezi nodded. “I know where to find you. Well, sometimes.”

After she went inside, Aradia stayed in the backyard long enough for your back to ache. Then she spread her wings and took off. You didn’t see her again for weeks.

Is that what this is about? Is that why she keeps leaving? Because she doesn’t know how to act, and she’s afraid of messing up? You think back to the few times you’d made it clear she’d hit a wrong note, the way she’d tensed up and got uncertain. Can you forget what it’s like to live in realtime, without cheatcodes at the ready and the ability to reverse and try again? It’s kind of like when John had taken the training wheels off your bike, and you’d crashed more trying to be extra careful. What you have to do is go faster to keep your balance.

"I'm not good at any of this either,” you say. “I spent the first few weeks of our victory lap getting the shakes from booze withdrawal again. I get nightmares most nights - not deep meaningful coherent shit, I don’t even remember most of it, but I wake up freaked out. My kids are here and they're people who are messed up too and I want to help them but god, I'm not a therapist, I can't even help myself. And who the FUCK knows how a checkbook works." You flick the rim of the glass and it chimes. "It's been months and I still kinda want a drink."

"I've never met another you," she says. "I don't know what to say."

"None of us have done this before. We're all... fucking up for the first time. Out there you were like... replaying the same levels of a game over and over because you knew all the tricks, but sometime you have to move on and click a dialog option without knowing what it'll do. Sure, sometimes you'll make a mortal enemy or fail a quest, but sometimes you won't." You scuff your foot over the damp patch in the dirt that's all that's left of your libation. "We can't keep thinking about dead people all the time. And tracking down the game… it’s important, but this here matters too.” This is turning out cheesier than the party platter you ordered for tonight’s party, but it’s too late to back down now. “You… matter to me. Maybe I don’t know you that well, or know what makes you happy in a million universes or tidbits like that, but I’d like to. I’d like you to stay. The dead are dead, and the future’s coming. No one can stop it. But the present’s here. And it’s the holidays. That’s the best time for presents.”

That gets you a little smile. “Time puns are my weakness.”

“I’ve got an endless supply of dumb jokes, I promise.” You reach out and put a hand on her shoulder. Shit, she’s warm. “We have forever, but we’re only gonna be sixteen once. Do you want to spend all of it in outer space missing dead people?”

" I'm done with dying," she says.

"Wanna give living a try?"

Both of you are hit with a bright flash of light that leaves you jerking away and blinking stars out of your vision.

"Hope that turns out," Davesprite says. "I alchemized a fuckin nova flash. I call it the retinablaster 5000 and it's a leading cause in early onset vision loss."

"Don't make me sorry I birthed you," you say, rubbing your eyes. You hadn’t even heard the sliding door open. As a professional sneak, you’re falling down on the job. Rogues shouldn’t get taken by surprise.

"You didn't. John birthed us all out of slime and I bet he regrets it every single day of his life. Jake won the arm wrestling contest and Terezi says using Hope powers isn’t cheating because of course she favors being underhanded, so he’s putting in your future-pirated movie. We’re saving you seats, unless you guys want to stay out here freezing your asses off."

“We were having a moment,” you say, with as much haughtiness as you can muster.

“Oh, one of those. Well, we’re not holding off on pressing play, so finish it up.” He slides the glass door closed, and the noise from inside dies down. The lights from the kitchen still spill out onto the dead grass, painting it gold. It’s the kind of little detail Aradia likes. She looks at it quietly.

“You can’t miss Pacific Rim,” you say. “It’s a must-see.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s about friendship and science and cancelling the apocalypse, which are all part of the reason for the season. Plus there’s robots with sickass swords, and what else do you need from a feature film?”

“Someone to watch it with.”

“That helps,” you agree, and hold out your hand. “Come in and stay a while?”

She grabs it, and her warmth chases the winter chill away. "I think I will."

#I am bemused about everyone's characterization in this don't @ me #kat writes fic #*regular brain* write fic that appeals to a broad audience #*galaxy brain* write something catering only to your personal interests #*universe brain* write something that doesn't even match your own interests

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alexsfictionaddiction · 3 years

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Review: The Mismatch by Sara Jafari

I think there is a demand right now for romance novels that offer more than a simple love story. Readers want to think about new ideas, challenge their own prejudices and come away from a novel with a sense of something having changed. I knew that The Mismatch would do exactly that and it was one of the richest experiences I’ve had with a romance novel for a while.

In 1970s Iran, Neda has married the handsome, eligible Hossein and the couple have moved to England for a better life but does the Western world really hold the answers they’re looking for? 40 years later, Soraya has just graduated from university with a good degree in English Literature but that elusive first job is nowhere in sight. She has also started seeing Magnus, an aspiring writer, but Soraya knows that it can’t ever become serious because her Muslim background means she’ll never be allowed to be with him.

The book gives us both Neda’s story and her youngest daughter Soraya’s story. Jafari expertly demonstrated the distinct similarities and differences between the two women’s experiences and I had great fun drawing the parallels. Neda is committed to gaining her Masters and then a PhD rather than a life at home like many Muslim women of her generation. Although possibly not intentional, it’s perhaps this shunning of expectations that influences Neda’s children to be the individual free-thinkers that they are.

Soraya’s chapters depict a slow questioning of the religious ideals that she has been raised with. Although she is curious about sex and alcohol, Soraya is still determined to not disappoint her parents. This conflict comes to a head after a horrendous dramatic event that caused me to throw the book across the room and causes Soraya to change tack completely.

The beginnings of Neda and Hossein’s relationship is so beautiful and it’s clearly a love match. Hossein is respectful, romantic and supportive of Neda’s dreams and watching this man slowly crumble was perhaps the most heartbreaking aspects of the book. I think Hossein’s story is an example of so many Muslim immigrants who come to the UK with the hopes of a better life but instead find that the grass really isn’t greener at all. I can’t excuse a lot of what Hossein's behaviour over the course of the book but his fall is so dramatic and sad that it’s impossible not to shed a few tears when you realise it.

I loved how the book managed to weave in a little Iranian history too. Not long after Neda and Hossein move to England, things in Iran begin to change and it’s not in the direction that they hoped for. Being so far away from their families at this time is a real struggle for them but they know that they’re better off in England, away from the terrors of their home country. I can imagine the realisation that they’ll probably never return to Iran slowly dawning on Neda and Hossein and it’s truly heart-rending.

Soraya’s disappointment and disenchantment with post-uni life will resonate with anyone who has ever been a fresh graduate, particularly those with Arts degrees. Of course, she compares herself to her friends who have successfully found themselves on exciting graduate schemes and internships and wonders why she isn’t having the same luck. I still take every professional rejection personally and I’m not sure that will ever change, so I really related to her on this level. It’s really tough to build a career in a creative field, so rooting for her was a very easy thing to do.

Despite everything that they have in common and despite how much she likes him, as a white English boy, Magnus just isn’t a feasible option for Soraya. Although Soraya was born and raised in England and holds a lot of British values, she is haunted by the fact that eventually she must conform and marry a Muslim boy. It’s almost like this is the one value that she can’t bring herself to fight and so she does everything she can to stop herself falling in love with Magnus. I was constantly conflicted over wanting to encourage her to give in to her fledgling feelings and completely understanding her desire to not disappoint her family. It’s an impossible decision that I know so many young people all over the world have to make.

Soraya has the shadow of the story of her oldest sister Laleh hanging over her and I think this is a big driving factor in her determination to not get serious with Magnus. Laleh was disowned by the family as a teenager because she chose to be with her white British boyfriend. As a result, Soraya has grown up with no contact with her sister and the family act as if she never existed. Soraya is naturally terrified of the same thing happening to her.

The Mismatch is a moving, thought-provoking novel with a wonderfully satisfying ending. I was worried that things would end tragically but it ended on a happy note in more ways than one. Both Soraya and Neda deserved nothing but good things and I finished it with so much hope. It’s a coming-of-age story with fantastically memorable characters and true love in all its forms at its very heart.

The Mismatch by Sara Jafari is available in eBook and audiobook format now and will be published in paperback by Arrow, an imprint of Penguin Random House, on 24th June 2021.

#the mismatch #sara jafari #romance #book review #review #books #bookworm

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laphicet · 6 years

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sweetlaphicets 2017 games of the year

Its just me rambling nonsensically and unedited about games I loved this year

2017 was a damn good year for video games <3 I played a lot of different games and DLC’s this year, and I just wanted to talk about some of my favorites this year ! Also, this list will be limited to things that were released this year.

Resident Evil 7 – Starting off the year right for me. I love Resident Evil and survival horror a lot, and the series was unfortunately waning in terms of interest to me, with its shift towards more action instead of puzzles and exploration. Then Resident Evil 7 comes a long and throws all that out, and pretty much is classic Resident Evil formula, but modernized a little bit, and in first person. What a game it was. Fantastic atmosphere, with small memorable areas that you explore every nook and cranny of, and really just get to become familiar with all of the environments, with an interesting story with an entirely new cast of characters, with a focus on developing the games main antagonists, the family whose house a large portion of the game takes place in. Survival horror is BACK baby <3 Nier Automata – I love Yoko Taro, a lot. I love platinum games games’. Put them together and well… you have an unforgettable experience. Music that I listen to on a daily basis (Vague Hope is sooooo good), and characters I think about constantly (9S needs a hug…). It’s funny, when I first finished all the routes of the game, I cried a lot, especially on ending D, but I also felt… the characters weren’t as developed or memorable as the first Nier’s. As time goes on, and the more I think about the characters, the more I realize, I really did like the characters a lot, it just took me some time to appreciate them more. This game made me really happy, because I feel Yoko Taro is finally getting the widespread recognition that I’ve always felt he deserved. His stories are so far out there and different, but the drakengard/nier universe is my favorite universe of all time, and the lore is sooooo cool. Can’t wait to see what Yoko Taro does next <3 Detention – As I said in the Resident Evil 7 section, I love me some survival horror games, but I also have a big passion for psychological horror games, and Detention hits all the right notes in that department. Every single thing in the game has some deeper meaning, the reason you see enemies, all the puzzles, and all the imagery in the backgrounds, which is totally my jam (something Silent Hill gave me a passion for) and the story in general is just really dark and good. The game itself is a point and click side scrolling game with a focus entirely on puzzles (pretty good and very…interesting ones at that) and exploration. There are enemies, but they don’t really pose a threat, and they’re just there more for serving a purpose in the story. Detention is really great and not that expensive, if you like horror games, I definitely think its worth looking into.

Azure Striiker Gunvolt Striker Pack – Always wanted to get into these games back on the 3DS, and since they came out on the Switch, I got to give both games a go, and they immediately hooked me. Super fun megaman styled games, with an emphasis on tagging enemies and then electrocuting all tagged enemies at once. It feels really satisfying to use Gunvolts electric abilities, and it definitely has that Inti Creates charm to it. Visually, it reminded me a lot of Megaman Zero. I was even surprised at liking the story as much as I did. It’s not a super detailed or developed story, but I really loved Gunvolt and Joule <3 I hope for a third one at some point.

Ys VIII Lacrimosa of Dana – I love Ys games, and I went into this one specifically knowing absolutely nothing, never watching any videos and only having seen a few screenshots. I was so surprised by the structure of the game and the fact that the world was as big as it was, and gorgeous at that. As usual, Falcom made some damn good music too <3 Also for the first time in the series, the characters resonated with me more then usual. I think it was the stuck on an island premise of the story, everyone having to work together to survive and having to actually speak to everyone and get to know them a bit more through quests. I don’t really like the raid or defense missions, but they’re not unbearable, but definitely a low point for me. The rest of the gameplay though… man is it good. Each character feels damn good to play, especially Dana. Dana as a character in general is pretty great, and I’d really like to see more of her at some point. Soso localization aside (which they’re re—localizing now) Ys VIII is probably my favorite Ys game at this point.

The Evil Within 2 – This game is what I might call the “surprise of the year” for me. I enjoyed the first game a lot, but it had so many design aspects that I really hated (so many damn 1 hit deaths in that game) This sequel however… does everything right in my eyes. An open town to explore as a sort of giant hub world that gave me Silent Hill vibes (exploring the town was always my favorite part of that series) But perhaps the biggest surprise for me with Evil Within 2 was the story. The first games story was pretty bland, and somehow they turned the bland, boring main character from the first game in to a really well developed and well done character that honestly made me feel bad for him. Going into this game I wasn’t expecting to cry going in to this game, but it definitely gave me a lot of feels.

(DLC) Final Fantasy XV : Episode Ignis – This DLC episode gave me (and I think some other fans, 1 in specific that I know :3 ) exactly what I wanted, but I won’t spoil that here. I loved this DLC and I don’t really want to talk too mumch about it because its hard to talk about without spoiling the main game. So I’ll just sayh this, I love Ignis and I want to hug him. Also Yasunori Mitsuda composing for a Final Fantasy is pretty damn rad.

And now for my game of the year… (99% of people who know me will not be surprised xD)

Tales Of Berseria – Some of the games on my list are better designed, have better gameplay, and waaaaaaaaaaay better level design, but nothing resonated with me more this year then Berseria. Something about it just clicked, and clicked hard. I love the characters so much, especially Velvet and Phi. I kinda don’t think a cast of characters for a game has resonated with me as much as this game, the closest its ever been before this was Yuri and Alice from Shadow Hearts, and the cast of the first Nier. There are scenes from this game that I can just think of out of context and start to get emotional >_> no games ever done that for me before. I’m not sure if it’s the game itself really emotionally resonating with me to this extreme extent, or that the game was there when I needed comfort more then anything due to some really awful bullshit that happened this year, but either way, I really love this game and its incredibly special to me. I also saw a lot of my self in Velvet and Phi... the way Velvets moods are and her anger remind me a lot of my self when I have really bad mood swings that come at random. And then Phi... well.. I saw more of myself in him then I ever have with any other character before, for reasons that maybe I’ll write about in a seperate post one day. He has a lot of my own personality traits and one big thing about his development and over the course of the game that just really... resonated with me in a way no character has ever before.

#resident evil 7 #nier automata #detention #azure striker gunvolt #Ys VIII #the evil within 2 #final fantasy xv #tales of berseria #holy crap I talk too much

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ramajmedia · 5 years

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Twilight: 10 Vampire Logic Memes Only True Twi-Hards Understand

Oh, Twilight. Some people absolutely loved it, some people absolutely loved to hate it, but it was a cultural zeitgeist unlike anything else that had ever been on the film or book series scene before. This saga authored by Stephenie Meyer was both silly and soulful, and these romance novels for a modern era set the hearts of girls and women of all ages on fire for quite a long time.

RELATED: Twilight Characters Sorted Into Hogwarts Houses

Understandably the fervor for Twilight started to fade after all of the books and movies had been released, but clearly there are still a lot of hibernating Twi-hards out there in the world just waiting for their comeback to arrive. And as it happens, Twilight has had a bit of a resurgence as of late, at least it has in the meme community. Twilight is the kind of project that was made to be memed, and here are 10 of the best Twilight memes out there.

10 Coulda, Shoulda, Woulda

And to be honest, this could be applied to like every single member of the Cullen family. Yes, presuming that any of them is intelligent enough to figure out the cure for cancer is assuming a lot, but it's not assuming a lot to say that they could use their billions of accumulated dollars to legitimately save the world. I mean, congrats on not eating human beings, but you're really setting a low bar for yourselves, fam. At the very least they could have repeated college instead of high school, high school is like the worst possible portion of school to do even once, let alone over and over again for an eternity.

9 Felt Vs. Sparkles

Edward and the rest of clan Cullen has figured out ways to keep themselves a secret despite the fact that their skin is sparkly, but if the Cullens decided to live anywhere even slightly sunnier then Count Von Count might sincerely have an easier time blending into society.

RELATED: Twilight: 10 Most Underrated Supporting Characters

Also here's a little interesting tidbit about the Count. Old vampire lore said that vampires would obsessively count things, so if you wanted to evade a vampire then just throw grains of salt at them and they'll be compelled to count them. Which means that Count Von Count is probably more faithful to vampire lore than Twilight.

8 How Do I Begin To Describe Edward George

So I guess Edward Cullen is the Regina George in this scenario? It's kind of hard to see, but I guess as the only single sibling of the Cullen squad he accidentally fell into a bit of a leadership position, and we all know that he can be catty as hell too. But if we may add a few critiques here and there.

First off, Jacob being the one to say that Edward is flawless? Hard to believe. And secondly, James? Kind of underplaying the interaction between you and Edward dude, he punched you in the face and then ripped your body apart and set it on fire.

7 Cedric Reborn, But Sadder

Okay first off, everyone noticed him in Harry Potter. Cedric is an icon and deserved a better ending than being collateral damage in one of the many showdowns between Voldemort and Harry.

However, Edward is undeniably the most emo vampire to ever emo, and it would make some sense if he was just Cedric Diggory who was killed and sent to this hellish world where he's the saddest immortal on the planet earth. But thank god sad little Cedward managed to find love in the unlikeliest of places, and perhaps the sudden joys that life provided will make him ease off of his emo attitude.

6 Dream Big, Aro

Aro is such a gleefully nutty and bizarre character that it almost feels like he belongs in a completely different film. What We Do In The Shadows maybe. But we do know that for all of Aro's hilarity and unpredictability, he does love a good vampire superpower.

RELATED: Twilight: 10 Hidden Details About The Costumes You Didn’t Notice

It's presumably the only reason that he let Bella Swan live, because he hoped she would have an exceptional power and hoped that he would be able to add her to the Volturi vault at some point. And honestly it's not that hard to believe that he might be rocking out to Carly Rae Jepsen in his down time either.

5 Do Not Besmirch The Good Name Of White Chicks

Stephenie Meyer, the author of the Twilight saga, is Mormon. And while everyone has their own personal passions and tastes, it's safe to say that vampire lore and Mormonism aren't two things that feel like they go together very well. So it shouldn't come as a huge surprise then that the Twilight vampires seem like they're vampires in name only.

Yes, they drink blood, but pretty much all of the other Twilight vampire mythology is a completely random hodgepodge of abilities and weaknesses (if you can consider being sparkly a weakness). White Chicks is an absolute masterpiece of film making, though.

4 It's Awkward Cause It's True

Savage, but true. It's fair to say that Bella really couldn't do anything even when all of the drama was going on, because while she was caught up in shenanigans with sparkly stone vampires and werwolves the size of draft horses she was a regular human.

RELATED: Twilight: 10 Facts About Esme Cullen They Leave Out In The Movies

Actually, an exceptionally weak and un-athletic human. But realistically speaking, most of Bella's experience in her relationship with Edward was kind of her just waiting for him to do things and just reacting or hoping that it all went well. Thankfully Bella got into the fray once she became a vampire, because watching her stuck on the bench while everyone else played was a bummer.

3 It Would Have Been A Much Shorter Movie Then

Granted, the Cullen family and maybe the Denali clan were the only vampires in the Twilight universe that actually didn't deserve to die, but things would have been a whole heck of a lot more interesting if there were some Blade-style hunters in the Twilight universe.

Blade clearly would have been pretty conspicuous if he had shown up in Forks, but it seems unlikely that any vampires could have gone toe to toe with them. Also it's pretty weird that when you think about it, Blade and Renesmee Cullen are basically the same species, or the same type of hybrid at least.

2 Twilight Is Eternal

Well, it's called a renaissance for a reason. For quite a while there it looked like the whole Twilight saga and the Twi-hard fandom was permanently dormant if not completely dead, but suddenly Twilight made its glorious meme comeback.

It shouldn't come as a huge surprise in the end though. Twilight was a wildly popular series when it was released, but more importantly it's one of the most meme-able franchises in the history of books and film. Twilight was always completely unashamed to be it's totally bizarre self, which is probably why all of its fans were completely unashamed to love it too.

1 That's Not Because You're A Vampire, It's Because You're A Person

Who of us can't relate to that. And while Jasper is presumably so constantly uncomfortable because being surrounded by walking blood bags 24/7 kind of stresses him out, it's also safe to assume he's a pretty awkward dude no matter the circumstance.

I mean, if he wanted to avoid the discomfort of blood in his presence then he could just, you know, not go to high school anymore. However, he keeps going. And maybe it's because he wants to chill with the rest of his family, but maybe he is just the kind of person who is uncomfortable with merely existing.

NEXT: Twilight: The 10 Worst Things Edward Has Ever Done

source https://screenrant.com/twilight-vampire-logic-memes/

#screenrant

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pumpkins-s · 7 years

Text

Spilling Like An Overflowing Sink

Read on AO3 Here

Read the Other Chapters on Tumblr Here

Lance Alexander Rafael McClain is born in the middle of a summer storm, thunder cracking and rain slamming onto the roof of an old ramshackle house that had seen more than its fair share of children.

The miracle baby, that’s what the family had called Lance. The unexpected son to a mother of five daughters.

(In which family is always complicated, Lance’s life hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows, and he and Keith are really emotionally constipated for each other.)

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Relationships: Keith/Lance, significant platonic Lance & Hunk

Characters: Lance, Lance’s family, Hunk, Keith, Shiro, Pidge, Allura, Coran

Chapter 9: Liar

((Author’s Note:

Hello! New update here for SLAOS to kick off July before I get busy with my Klance Big Bang fic!

Before we begin, a few exciting things:

My lovely friend Logan has done some beautiful doodles of Mavis and Loraine, which you should absolutely check out here and here.

Also! Since I love having something to listen to while I read/work, there are now matching playlists for Loraine & Mavis for you to so check out if you so please! You can find the tumblr post for both playlists here (complete with coverart!), or go to them each directly-- Mavis: Spotify. Youtube. Loraine: Spotify. Youtube. ))

It takes four days before things to go to shit.

…Naturally.

Why on Earth would Lance have expected anything else, with such a foolish, hopeful, half-thought out idea?

It’s four days of awkward, stumbling missteps in trying to relearn himself, filled with scrambling changes of clothes every time he dares to look in the mirror and feels his stomach flop unsurely at seeing bright patterns and knock-off chiffon, pairing skirts with his loose, faded t-shirts in hopes of finding some suitable balance between memory and self-taught reality, and one rather memorable incident on the second day of this little mini-venture when Mavis had opened the bathroom door to find Lance in tears after he had accidentally jabbed himself in the eye with her half-stolen, half-borrowed mascara brush.

Even after making the decision to give this a try, it’s not as simple as throwing on a new set of clothes and calling it done. It’s hardly easy unlearn a year of practice keeping himself from these things, and it’s never really just been about clothes, regardless.

After all, Lance thinks, if this was just an odd addiction to what most people might call cross-dressing, then that might be easier to be rid of. But this… This is just himself. Lance. It’s an itch under his skin on hot, muggy mornings that he cannot escape and a distinct feeling of wrongness every time his shirts rub against his collarbone and long skirts sit too low on his thin, unshapely hips.

No matter what he does, even in this… experiment, it still feels like he’s running from himself, and it leaves him with an aching, wishful desire for the easy sense of self he’d known as a child, happy and unquestioning of what he wanted or how he wished to look or feel.

He’s not sure if this is all a result of his choices in the last year after losing Loraine, or if this was, perhaps, inevitable. Maybe he would have faced the same struggles had he persevered anyways as he got older.

Still, no doubt this would have been easier, with Loraine here.

…Then again, having Loraine would have meant no Mavis, and that in of itself is a can of worms and complicated feelings Lance isn’t quite ready to open yet.

Regardless, for those few strange, itchy, yet oddly content days, he presses on to figure out what he wants from this, what he wants from choice.

On the fifth day, he finds himself sprawled out on Mavis’s couch in the heat of the summer afternoon as the humidity clings to his skin, NASA t-shirt from his suitcase and skirt from Mavis’s purchases thrown on and the hair bow pinned haphazardly to his curls, tongue darting out idly to prod at the leftover sticky sweetness on his lips from an ill-advised foray into lip gloss, old stuff found in Mavis’s bathroom drawer that likely hadn’t been touched in years and was well past any advisable expiry date. He’s sitting in a position that would likely get him scolded for indecency at home— Shoulders resting on the cushions where he should be sitting and legs flung up in the air, knees hooked over the back of the couch and skirt pooling in his lap as his arm stretches past his head to flick through channels on the television with the remote clasped upside-down between loose fingers. Across from him, Mavis sits with her feet tucked up under the pillow Lance rests his head on, shirt abandoned in favor of just her sports bra and jean cut-off shorts, brow furrowed as she fiddles with a replacement string for her violin, loudly confident in her occasional bluster that she can do it herself rather than take it to the shop.

It’s a quiet, pleasant kind of companionable silence intermingled with the background noise of the TV ads and Mavis’s occasional swears as fine, long fingers poke and prod at delicate woodwork.

At least, until the sharp rap of knuckles on the front door jolts them both into awareness, attentions turned to it in half-awake confusion.

“Mavis?” A man’s voice rings out. “It’s me, are you home?”

Mavis blinks, looking to Lance for a moment, and then promptly trips over herself and falls to the floor with a squawk as she tries to scramble off the sofa. “Shit!”

“You okay?” The voice asks, concern drifting into the friendly words. “I’m gonna come in, alright?”

There’s the scraping of a key being inserted into the lock, and the door handle turns, sending Lance wiggling desperately in a similar failed maneuver to Mavis’s in an attempt to at least sit up properly. In some distant part of his mind, he wonders in what alternate universe Mavis, paranoid, private Mavis, would ever give some random guy who clearly wasn’t a relative a spare key, as Mavis waves her arms pointlessly from her upside-down position on the floor at the door, one knee still caught on the sofa, and screeches. “No, wait! Jeff—“

The door slams open all of three inches, before catching on the chain lock, and jolting to a sharp stop. Sighing, Mavis drops her arms, covering her face with one of them tiredly. “Chain lock, Jeff.”

“Whoops.” Half a man’s face hovers in view in the crack between the door and the wall, grinning abashedly. “Sorry, forgot.” Below him, another face, younger and with wider eyes, peers into the space as well as the man’s eyes slide over to Lance.

Lance’s heart catches in his throat as it finally registers with him what he is wearing, in plain view, to this man who is not Mavis and not safe, and he finds himself frozen, half-tempted to flee, but unable to find his feet.

“So…” The man drawls, thick New Jersey accent caught up in cigarette smoke roughness visible in his words. “Who’s the girl?”

“The what?” Mavis half mumbles, stumbling to her feet, grabbing her shirt where it lies on the coffee table and pulling it over her head as she staggers to the door and nudges it back enough to unhinge the chain lock, opening the door properly once it’s free.

“The kid?” The man says, sticking calloused hands into loose jean pockets and meandering into the room enough for Mavis to shut the door behind him, with his shadow hot on his heels, a boy around Lance’s age with dirty blonde hair that hangs in front of his eyes and a scattering of freckles on his forearms that stand out against his pale skin. “Wait, wait, don’t tell me…” He pauses, thinking. “…Your brother’s daughter? You mentioned you had family coming to visit, and you’re the youngest sibling, right? So…”

The guy’s gaze slides between Mavis and Lance, questioning, and with a lurch in his stomach, one part horror, one part elated relief, several things click into place for Lance all at once.

Most importantly, that this guy, amazingly, impossibly, thinks he’s a girl. Somehow.

A girl, not… Well.

Apparently a skirt, a hair bow, and a bit of old lip gloss did a lot more than Lance gave it credit for, especially given this was paired with his loose, boyish shirt that he knows for certain is one of Carlos’s old things, and his distinctly short hair.

“…What?” Mavis says, and then her eyes widen as she catches on, darting to Lance in a panicked question. “I mean, uh…” He stares back at her with something like frightened desperation as it fully registers their only options here are to roll with it or correct the man’s mistake and face the potential consequences, which is… unappealing. Making a split-decision in seconds, he silently begs her to play along.

He’s not ready to face it again. The judgmental looks, the uncomfortable questions. Not in this place that is supposed to be his secret haven. He knows nothing about these people, aside from the fact that they seem to know Mavis, and that alone is not enough to confirm they are safe for Lance.

“…Yeah.” Mavis finally finishes, trailing off unsurely and lapsing into momentary silence. “This is… My niece… Lance.” The man blinks, surprise flickering over his face, and Lance looks to his cousin with a strained, pleading expression, prompting a quick, aborted movement on her part that looks like something between a shrug and throwing up her hands, the meaning, as far as Lance can determine, best equated to a sentiment along the lines of ‘I panicked’.

Which… Fair enough.

“It’s… a nickname.” Lance offers unsurely, edging closer and wincing at how frail and borderline whispery his voice is. “Long story.”

“Alright then.” The man’s voice is bemused, but not unkind, and Lance unfurls, shoulders relaxing ever so slightly as he registers that, yes, this guy has accepted the ruse without question. “Lance it is. It’s nice to finally meet Mavis’s niece. She doesn’t talk ‘bout her family half as much as she should.”

“Right then.” Mavis coughs into a fist, eyes flickering unsurely to Lance once more, as if she can’t quite believe this is happening either. “Lance, meet Jeff and his son, Tommy. Jeff and I um… work together, and Tommy helps out sometimes around school.” She turns back to the newly christened Jeff, sticking her hands into her back pockets in a nervous gesture that is purely Mavis, and goes to work doing what she does best— Deflecting. “You’re supposed to call me before you just come over, jackass.”

Jeff grins unashamedly, holding up his hands in an easy gesture of surrender. “I needed to go over some numbers with you for next month’s stock, and I was in the neighborhood.” Mavis raises an eyebrow, distinctly not amused, and Jeff waves the plastic bag in his left hand carefully. “I brought takeout, your favorite Chinese place.”

Something gives in Mavis’s expression, and she looks to Lance. “I don’t know if now is the best time, Jeff…”

“Come on,” Jeff waves his hand dismissively, and for the first time Lance finds his mannerisms rubbing him the wrong way. People listen to Mavis, that’s just part of the way she works, and to see someone so casually ignore her unsubtle suggestions is… unusual. Different. “You love Chinese. It’ll just be for a bit, promise.”

Hesitantly, Lance reaches out, catching Mavis’s fingers at her side, and she glances at him again, clearly sensing his discomfort. “…Leave the food on the kitchen counter. We can talk in my room, give us some quiet.”

“Great.” Jeff says jovially, sliding a hand around Mavis’s waist that makes Lance’s skin itch uncomfortably, and leading her away without a backwards glance. “Tommy, keep Ms. Lance company, yeah? Talk about your video game things or something.”

“Yeah, sure…” The boy mutters quietly, sounding as if he’d really rather not, and then Mavis is gone into the other room, quickly flashing Lance a reassuring smile as the door shuts behind her that he does his best to mirror.

After a couple long seconds, it properly registers that he is alone with Tommy, and he turns back to the other boy, the other boy who thinks he is a girl and who’s father apparently is close enough to Mavis to touch her like that, and prays that he doesn’t fuck this up too badly.

His only reassurance is that Tommy looks just as unsure and uncomfortable as he does.

“So…” The boy drawls, soft and questioning. “You’re… Mavis’s niece.”

“Um. Yeah.” Almost unconsciously, Lance crosses his arms, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. “And your dad and Mavis… They… Work together?” His voice lingers on the last words, dubiousness easily soaking through. He may not know an exceeding amount about the adult world just yet, but he doesn’t think randomly showing up to someone’s apartment that they apparently have a key to with lunch is standard coworker behavior in the slightest.

At least, no one’s ever shown up to their house with lunch for any of his sisters or mother claiming to know them from work.

“A-Ah, yeah!” Tommy brightens considerably, nodding and shoulders relaxing slightly. “She works at Dad’s bar! She helps with my music theory homework for band class when I’m there after school sometimes, she’s really nice.”

“Yeah…” Despite himself, Lance feels a smile slip onto his face. “She is.”

“’M sorry about my dad, for the record.” Tommy offers. “I know he can be a bit… much. He just… really likes Mavis. He tries to find excuses to talk to her and stuff.”

“It’s alright.” Lance offers hesitantly, not completely sure if it is all right at all but trusting the other in his honesty in regards to the situation.

Tommy grins unsurely, bright and cheerful, and idly Lance catches a similar, fainter pattern of freckles along his cheeks to match the ones on his arms, scrawling around the length of his face and catching on the edges of his nose. “Yeah— Sorry, I don’t think that was a very good introduction before, with me hiding being my dad like that.” He sticks a hand out, thin fingers smudged with dirt and ratty friendship bracelets crowding his wrist. “Tommy Buchanan.”

Lance smiles, and takes the proffered hand, his darker skin tone contrasting sharply against Tommy’s. “Lance McClain.”

It’s only then that he once again considers the oddness of his name compared to this ruse— So easy Tommy’s presence is, at least, compared to his father, that it previously slipped his mind once more that this is… Happening.

Lord help him, whatever this is. Perhaps he would have been better off never touching those clothes Mavis had bought, had he known such complications would arise so quickly.

“Um—“ He shifts awkwardly, and Tommy shrugs amicably, retracting his hand as Lance lets go.

“Don’t worry. I know a girl named Dylan and another named Billie… And a guy who insists people call him Sugar. Lance isn’t the oddest nickname I’ve heard, especially not for a girl.” Tommy smiles, young and unassuming and all the things his father appears to be without the undercurrent of wrongness Lance in his potential paranoia feels. “I think it suits you.”

“Oh.” Lance feels heat scrawl across his face and shuffles back, bringing his hands in front of him and twisting his fingers together nervously. It’s… strange. It’s not that he’s never been complimented on his name before, but the idea of someone now appreciating it in a way that is wrapped up with the idea of him being not-a-boy is odd. He’s so used to forcing himself to associate what it means to be Lance with being what he needs to be— Not his memories of being Lancie Loo-Loo, the child that never feared these associations of name and meaning at all.

And no, someone thinking Lance and associating it with girl isn’t quite right either, but it’s something different, at least, and that is… enough. Maybe. Maybe.

“Thank you.” He says softly, and Tommy brightens.

Perhaps, he thinks, this is not so bad after all.

“…Do you want to watch TV with me?” He offers. “Mavis and I were watching this old music competition she likes.”

Tommy nods enthusiastically, hands shoved into his pockets and previous nervousness all but disposed with, and Lance feels himself breathe a sigh of relief.

Later, much later, long after the Chinese food resting in its plastic bag in a sorry heap on the counter has undoubtedly gone cold, Jeff and Mavis reappear from her room. Jeff collects Tommy as he leaves, the food still untouched where it sits as he loudly laughs and talks his way out, hand on Mavis’s back all the way to the door, and Tommy shyly waves Lance goodbye, chasing after his father down the hall without bothering to close those last couple steps of space between them.

They migrate back to the kitchen on an unspoken agreement in awkward silence, Mavis spooning out the now sticky, clinging-together mixes of rice and meat and vegetables into chipped bowls and shoving them into the microwave to reheat while Lance perches on one of the too-tall bar stools, legs kicking idly and meeting only air.

After their food is placed in front of them, Mavis sits down next to him, fork twirling in her hands as she pointedly looks down at the bench and not at Lance. “So that was… a thing. That happened.”

Lance blinks, and automatically fills his spoon and shoves it into his mouth. “…Yeah.”

“Jeff thinks you’re a girl.”

“They think I’m a girl.”

Mavis’s head thunks dully against the kitchen counter as she drops it, arm outstretched to snag the glass of some dark, auburn liquid Lance can safely assume isn’t meant to be shared with him that she’d poured while reheating their food, and then once again brings her head up enough to down the liquid in one fell swoop. “Is this good or bad?”

“I don’t know.” Lance says honestly, bones thrumming with the knowledge of exactly what just has occurred, and it’s the truth. He really doesn’t know— On the one hand, there’s the strange, bubbling elation at the idea of being something else for once. Maybe not what is right, whatever that is, but… Something. On the other, though, there is a kind of precarious inevitability to this sort of thing that promises doom. He is not prepared for this sort of situation, for the upkeep and forward planning needed to maintain... this.

If his mother or Marcie were here, they would promise him that this is his life, and he doesn’t have to keep secrets or, vise-versa, tell anyone anything he doesn’t want to, especially things that are none of their business. If Karen or Igraine were here, they’d call him an idiot for getting himself into such a mess, and then they’d smack Mavis upside the head for letting it happen.

If Loraine were here…

He doesn’t know.

If Loraine were here, it is very likely he wouldn’t be here altogether, either.

Lance trusts Mavis though. He knows this much, whatever that means for this rather odd little situation. “I really… don’t know.”

Distantly, he wonders if he should be panicking over this.

…Probably should, in all honesty.

He isn’t. At least not currently, though he can’t speak as to whether some kind of panic will set in later— He got good at compartmentalizing these things almost subconsciously, after Loraine. Right now he just feels… numb. Lost.

This is not overwhelmingly positive in any way, and this is not awfully bad. It’s certainly not easy, definitely, but it is what it is, and now the only question that remains is what to do with it.

“Mm.” Mavis hums, staring down at her empty glass and swishing the ice resting in its base gently as if it might offer her the secrets of the universe, or at least of their current predicament. “You’re damn lucky you inherited whatever same genes that Lucas got for a pretty androgynous appearance, honestly. And that your voice hasn’t dropped yet.”

Lance pales, and Mavis blinks, eyes widening as she rethinks her words, turning to him with a faintly panicked expression. “Hey, not saying that it will happen! You might get a fairly ranged or high-pitched voice, lots of people do! Look at me, I sound like a forty-year-old man often enough and I’m trying to pass myself off as a singer half the time!”

Lance snorts, breaking into unexpected giggles. “No, you don’t. You sound like Mavis.”

Mavis pauses, and then relaxes, a small, fond smile slipping onto her face. “…Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Lance says, awkwardly poking his spoon around the remnants of his lunch. “I’m not that worried about that sort of thing with um, with Jeff and Tommy, anyways. Like…” He frowns. “Yeah, it’s surprising, and it makes me a little nervous, not gonna lie, but this isn’t my real life, really. What they think I am or am not, it doesn’t matter that much. I’d just never really considered the fact that those… changes will happen one day.”

“Growing up happens to the best of us, Lance.” Mavis grins wryly. “We all just have to live with it, there’s not many alternatives.”

There’s a pause, soft but peaceful, as they both poke unsurely at their food, and then Mavis breaks into giggles, growing in volume and hysteria quickly. “God, what are we doing?”

Despite himself, Lance finds the infectious laughter catch him, leaving him burying his mirth in wide, tight-lipped smiles against his palms. “No idea.”

Mavis cackles at that, hunching over and sending her bar stool rocking unsteadily, and it only sends Lance into further giggles, grinning over his fingers as he peers down at her doubled-over form, her shoulders shaking from surprised, relief-stricken nerves.

It’s all a mess, but at least it’s their mess— To own, to claim, to do with as they please.

And that? That is good.

Eventually, after the food is finished and the dishes washed and left on the drying rack, they find themselves curled back up on the couch as the evening heat falls to mildly warm and humid night air that clings to their skin like a second pair of pajamas. The two of them sit in the middle with Lance slumped into Mavis’s side, her arm thrown over his shoulders and his fingers tangled in the edge of her large sleep shirt as she flicks through channels, looking for a late-night rerun of a movie or a cartoon.

There is a steeping quiet, made up of uncertainty and a million questions they both have about all this, and all the things they cannot understand about each other, even after Mavis finds an old anime being shown and leaves it with the volume on low.

Lance lets himself be the first to break their waiting, speaking into the night where the daylight may not have his unsure thoughts. “So… Jeff.”

Mavis freezes ever so slightly, eyes trained on the television. “Jeff.” She says. “Jeff is… a friend.”

“You said he was a coworker.”

“He is!” Mavis blinks, and then shrugs. “Well, I mean, technically it’s more like he’s my boss—“

“You’re sleeping with your boss?!” Lance screeches, surprise getting the better of him, and Mavis cringes.

“I’m not sleeping with anyone. And how do you even know what that means?! You’re like… barely twelve.”

“Mavis I grew up in a house with eight teenagers.” Lance deadpans. “I know what sex is, thank you very much!”

Mavis turns red, sputtering, and he sighs. “Geez, what is he like, ten years older than you?“

“Only eight, and it’s really— It’s really not like that, okay?” She says sharply, cutting him off, frame still tense and awkward, and Lance relents, burying back against her side and resting his head against her chest.

It’s a different sound than Loraine’s heartbeat, just ever so slightly in its feeling in a way he cannot explain, but it’s still calming, regardless. Mavis is not Loraine, but that does not inherently make her lesser. It just makes it… Well, different.

Loving Loraine, attaching himself to her as his anchor in the world, that was easy, natural. Mavis is… This is a foundation, a trust they have chosen to build, rather than one that was innately there from the beginning. They do not automatically know each other the same way Lance and Loraine did, but they have chosen to, and in a way that is maybe even more powerful.

Maybe.

It is difficult, he thinks, to define his relationship with others without using Loraine as a reference point, and he neither wants to live his life seeing everything as lesser than Loraine in some way, nor as ever coming to see the bond he shared with his sister as somehow less important, because of what it held in inexplicable connections over fostered faith and work.

“So what is it like, then?” He asks instead to quiet the rabbit-heartbeat thoughts of his mind, and Mavis hums, unsure and considering.

“I dunno kid, alright? It’s just… Jeff is kind to me, and the attention is nice, I guess. He’s apparently been really lonely since his wife, Tommy’s mom, left a few years ago, and I think he just likes having someone to talk to.” She shrugs, shifting Lance’s weight ever so slightly. “He says he needs me around, and it’s… It’s flattering. He owns the bar I work at, and when I started helping him with more managerial duties, my paycheck like… doubled. I was really struggling to make rent at the time so he inadvertently helped me out a lot there.”

Lance crinkles his nose. “Still. Giving him a key, though? You used to lock your bedroom door at home just to stop people from getting in. Including your brothers. Whom you shared the room with.”

Mavis makes an unhappy noise of half-hearted denial at that, twisting her hands together in a way he knows means she’s fibbing. “It just sort of ended up that way. I started doing all this extra work around the place and helping him with the books and suddenly there was just a lot of off-hours talks and him showing up with lunch and stuff and then it was just… easier, for him to have a key. I got used to it, I guess. He means well, and I don’t dislike the company. And it’s free food and stuff and… My job too, y’know.”

“It doesn’t sound like it makes you happy, though.” Lance says, because no matter what his dwellings on the knowing of Loraine versus the knowing of anyone else, he understands enough about Mavis to discern this, at least.

“It doesn’t make me unhappy, and that’s enough when it comes to me dealing with people.” Mavis says firmly. “He’s… It’s complicated.”

“I guess.”

“I promise you it’s fine.” She says with all the certainty that comes with being someone like Mavis. “I’m not going to start shacking up with psychos or something, don’t worry.”

Lance grins against her sleeve, shaking his head ever so slightly. “If you say so.”

That night is when the panic does come, fleeting but certain as it leaves him breathless and stumbling from sleep, dreams of hands yanking back his hair and cutting and of whispered voices from long-left classrooms chasing after him. It’s a wordless hum of anxiety of what happens if they know, what happens if they find out, that leaves him rolling and scrambling his way off the pullout mattress and up into Mavis’s bed, clinging to her shakily as she whines sleepily and shifts over enough to make room for him, patting his head absently as she passes out again.

He falls asleep to the soothing sounds of her breathing and the distant honks of the cars in the night traffic outside, and in the morning she makes him frozen waffles that are still soggy after being toasted and promises him that if he wants it so, Jeff and Tommy will never set foot in this apartment again while he is here.

And it’s the truth, for a couple days— Before Jeff calls to invite himself over for lunch with a fifteen minute warning Mavis cannot seem to deny him, and Lance throws on a frilly shirt and shorts without thinking.

That second time, he doesn’t bring Tommy, and Lance sits fidgeting uncomfortably in the corner.

The third time, he does, and Tommy teaches Lance poker with the card set he brought stuffed in his shorts pocket with a hopeful, hesitant expression.

Despite everything, the Buchanans suddenly seem to become a part of the regular schedule, after that.

Perhaps it’s not surprising, in a way. This may be Lance’s escape from his reality, but this is Mavis’s actual life at the end of the day, and apparently Jeff and Tommy, for better or for worse, are part of it.

And so he gets used to Jeff showing up every few days to eat or to talk or to drag Mavis out to go somewhere with him, and to dodging inside the bedroom every time he hears a knock at the door and he’s not appropriately dressed, per se, just in case.

It becomes a part of the new normal disconcertingly quickly, if he’s being honest.

He likes Tommy’s company, at least. It’s odd, hanging around someone the same age as him— He’s used to befriending people who are technically older, no matter how infinitesimal that one year gap between himself and Hunk might feel, and knowing Tommy’s only a few months older is odd.

Not bad, but… Definitely odd.

Still, it’s nice, to have someone to hang out with when Jeff inserts himself into Mavis’s daily schedule with charming smiles and reassuring words, and Tommy holds a kind of quiet peacefulness different from Hunk or Yuu’s that Lance can appreciate. The afternoons he spends playing snap or go fish with him and helping him braid more messy friendship bracelets for his wrists and ankles are… Good.

It’s undeniably strange when Tommy braids him ones in bright pinks and yellows and tells him that they’re nice colors for a girl like him, but that’s not bad either. It’s a strange half-ruse he adjusts to. Not quite a lie, not quite truth.

He thinks of home, sometimes, when he works, and he sets aside three bracelets, lavender and yellow and dark red, for Ritzie and Hunk and Yuu.

An obnoxiously neon pink one gets made for Mavis, to match the bright nail polish she puts on her toes every few days with consistency, and she ties it to her ankle and doesn’t take it off.

Lance ends up with six, all from Tommy in varying colors, scattered up his arms, and he admires them as he desperately tries to ignore the anxious curling in his gut when Tommy rambles happily about his father.

Jeff makes Mavis happy, or so she says, and that’s what’s important.

Outside of that, it’s nice. Mavis cooks oversized bowls of spaghetti or makes toasted tomato and cheese sandwiches on the nights she doesn’t give up and order takeout or pizza, and the two of them eat dinner sometimes on the couch with old anime reruns on the television. She takes him sight-seeing around her schedule and to the theater she works as a stagehand at on the slow days, introducing him to her coworkers there, all of whom Lance likes infinitely more than Jeff, if he’s being honest. He dresses in his clothing from home on those occasions, until his second visit when he spots what he had at least previously assumed was a man in tights and heels milling about the stage and a then assumed woman wearing a binder and wifebeater.

“It’s off-Broadway theater in New York, Lance.” Mavis tells him airily. “Almost everyone’s either queer, not-cis, or liberal as all fuck.”

After that, he hesitantly dresses as he pleases for each particular day on those occasions, and Mavis takes him for ice cream from the corner dairy afterwards like clockwork.

He listens in the spare evenings as Mavis practices the instrument of the day, most often the tiny upright piano jammed in the corner of the living room or her violin, and calls out song requests based off whatever show or movie was just on TV.

Mavis, blessed by her ability to play by ear, normally nails them.

Once his three and a half weeks are up, Lance packs away the clothes he didn’t bring with him in the first place into Mavis’s closet, pockets the random junk she bought him, and leaves with photos for Marcie, a book for Evie, Tommy’s number programmed into his phone with a promise to text, and thirty-six missed calls from Hunk.

And then he, reluctantly, unsurely, clinging to Mavis’s sweater in the airport as he hugs her goodbye and wonders how long it might be until he sees her again, goes back home.

Home to Veradera.

#Voltron #voltron fanfic #vld fanfic #my writing #Spilling Like An Overflowing Sink (Voltron)

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theowlreblogs · 6 years

Text

I was tagged eons ago but I write this now because I suck!

A tagg!

1: when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk?

Oh godness, it's a little shameful, but more cereal! I just love it, Although it's been a while since the last time I had cereal for breakfast

2: do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a wintery day?

I adore it, especially early in the morning, it makes me feel both nostalgic and happy... Somewhat, alive

3: what random objects do you use to bookmark your books?

Tickets, leafs, random papers xvx;; But I try to use bookmars!

4: how do you take your coffee/tea?

With sugar and milk!

5: are you self-conscious of your smile?

Oh--! Sometimes! But I try to calm that feeling down. I love laughing and smiling, after all. I do that all the time, can't help it!

6: do you keep plants?

I love my lil' cactuses... They three are named off things important to me! (Yes, even Mr Pickles, fuck off)

7: do you name your plants?

OH GODNESS. Yes. Yes I do. The names of my plants are Sócrates, Eainstein (Tamy named him!) and Mr Pickles.

8: what artistic medium do you use to express your feelings?

Usually, writing. I used to draw for that too, but I barely do it now. I ought start to do it again.

9: do you like singing/humming to yourself?

Oh boy, I am always humming and I do love singing

10: do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach?

It depends! I don't care that much, I usually sleep on my back, I think? But I also like to sleep on my right side?? idk

11: what's an inner joke you have with your friends?

...Too many, gods

12: what's your favorite planet?

Mars! Dunno why

13: what's something that made you smile today?

Mhmmm... A little kid in the hairdressing salon. She was just too pure and cute!! And she was super excited of getting a nice hairstyle. I also smiled while watching some more eps of B99 with my brother- And when we made some cherry shake ~ ! Idk, I smile a lot lately

14: if you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like?

AAAHHhhhh hmmmm!!! Oh gods that sounds so dreamy. It will be so full of books, plants, cactuses everywhere. Stars in the roof, stars in the walls. I'll buy any glowing in dark paint to use it in the walls and make a galaxy. I imagine it all magic and beautiful--- I would try to have that flat really pretty!! I love to decorate rooms. We would have a ton of animals living with us too!!! ofc

15: go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is!

"Most stars take millions of years to die. When a star like the Sun has burned all of its hydrogen fuel, it expands to become a red giant. " I googles when a star dies. I had no idea of what to search...

16: what's your favorite pasta dish?

PISTO!

17: what color do you really want to dye your hair?

Dark blue...! Probably? Oh, godness. I wish i had the guts to actually do it.

18: tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up.

I've started to laugh only to think about the QUESTION. I am that friend who always make stupid shit. It's so ridiculous! A thing that is always remember in my friends group is a time when we were eating cake and then a piece of chocolate fell from Maria's cake. I started to laugh so hard I choke. I MEAN I REALLY CHOKE, I WAS ABOUT TO DIE THAT NIGHT. Maria always remembers it because she says that it all was so irreal. Two deaths for the price of one! (Her chocolate x me)

19: do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw/ in it?

I have a book journal! I draw a little something every time I finish a book.

20: what's your favorite eye color?

Blue... A lil's bit obsessed with them, to be honest.

21: talk about your favorite bag, the one that's been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces.

The one who gave me moms's first friend when we moved to Lugo! It's brown and big, I've been putting badges around it. It's a little old already (it has like four years) but I feel so comfortable with it!! it has just so many pockets and I adore it!!

22: are you a morning person?

Not that much, to be honest <XD;;

23: what's your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations?

Playing videogames and reading (probably fics)! Oh boy I love both things

24: is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets?

I used to have that but-- Not now. The closest is my brother! We both traveled around so many places, moved out so many times, that we are like-- the best friend of each other? We had no choide. We both were the only person that were always... there. I know he never ever ever ever EVER will hurt or betray me, and I never evER EVER EVER will hurt or betray him either, but he is my lil' bro- you know, there are some stuff I wouldn't tell him <XDD;;

25: what's the weirdest place you've ever broken into?

Mhm... I can't remember now? I can turn normal places in weird ones -sparkles-

26: what are the shoes you've had for forever and wear with every single outfit?

;v;" None... all my shoes are less than a year now...

27: what's your favorite bubblegum flavor?

MINTH! And tropical fruits =///u///=

28: sunrise or sunset?

Sunset! The sky-- burns then

29: what's something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing?

Always, when we sea each other, doesn't really matter how a shitty day we had, I can't stop but smile when I see Maria! And she always starts to smile and laugh too, although she almost always asks what is that fun. I just find it too cute! How we are always happy to see each other, I miss so much her...

30: think of it: have you ever been truly scared?

Yeah... five years ago I was pretty sure that I was dying, and I was about two or three days being not able to sleep or eat. Just-- for that thought. If I ete something, I would throw up.

31: what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell?

really, just talk about socks.

I LOVE socks!!! They rock /SNORTS. I mostly have boring socks now, I really should start buying weird ones- I will!

About if I sleep with them-- I do, where I live nights are cold (even in summer!) so, yeah.

32: tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3AM when you were with friends.

Once... When I was in a friend's house we TOUGHT we saw a weird/ghostly shadow????? It was just so

NOPENOPENOPEBOPENOPENOPE

33: what's your fave pastry?

Mhhm~ Tiramisu?

34: tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it?

U-umh... Her name is Luna and she is a dalmatian dog... She's been with me since I was six? I love her... I used to be super scared of dark and nightmares until I got her

35: do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? do you use them often?

I love them! I have some brown pens and I use them way too much. The type that use BROWN to write test and such- In my schools I am known for 'that one who uses the brown pen'

36: which band's sound would fit your mood right now?

I've been the past hour listening to Gregory and the Hawk

37: do you like keeping your room messy or clean?

Clean! But it gets messy too easily

38: tell us about your pet peeves!

I can't stand when people don't look at me in the eyes!

39: what color do you wear the most?

Oh... Black! It isn't a color per se... Then, blues!

40: think of a piece of jewelry you own: what's it's story? does it have any meaning to you?

A star of some gem I don't remember now. Paula gave it to me last summer! It's one of my treasures -nods-

41: what's the last book you remember really, really loving?

MHHMM... If you ignore the relationship of... two characters, Interview with the vampire is pretty nice. It makes you think!

42: do you have a favorite coffee shop? describe it!

OH!! It's called Señor León (Sir Lion)!! They are super nice and cheap and give so many free food I love them!!!

43: who was the last person you gazed at the stars with?

I can't remember--

44: when was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything?

Mhmm... The last time my brother and I went to a Burger King after having a shopping day. I just felt so calm and comfy... Like everything in life was good

45: do you trust your instincts a lot?

I do!

46: tell us the worst pun you can think of.

P2 ! (In Spanish. I won't explain it, 'tho. Sorry /snorts)

47: what food do you think should be banned from the universe?

GUTS! Eeeew

48: what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today?

It was darkness... and it really isn't anymore. In fact, I am like 0% afraid of darkness now. Isn't the light what makes us see what is hidden there?

49: do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought?

UH- Ummmmh... I don't... actually do that? Youtube is my friend -sweats-

50: what's an odd thing you collect?

Cans? I like pretty cans...

51: think of a person. what song do you associate with them?

My friends Lorena! With this https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=blQA4W8B0OI

52: what are your favorite memes of the year so far?

Oh my god, so many-- The one of the stars, probably

53: have you ever watched the rocky horror picture show? heathers?

beetlejuice? pulp fiction? what do you think of them?

Heathers! With Sari and Juan, some months ago. And Beetlejuice when I was a kid, so I don't really remember much of it.

I really liked Heathers! The irony and sarcasm is on point

54: who's the last person you saw with a true look of sadness on their face?

MMMMMMMMH... my mom?

55: what's the most dramatic thing you've ever done to prove a point?

Oh my god I have no idea, I am super extra for the lols all the time

56: what are some things you find endearing in people?

When they smile, calmy, so tenderly, at something they enjoy/love when they think that nobody is seeing them...

57: go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics?

Dude I always have that song in my soul, I don't ever NEED to listen to it- I love it, so much, it makes my heart aches, even

58: who's the wine mom and who's the vodka aunt in your group of friends? Why?

The vodka aunt is Tamy! The wine mom probably is Lorena. I am the hen mom who tries to feed and take care of everyone /ohboi

59: what's your favorite myth?

A Galician one... The one of the crossed paths. It says... That if you pass over a path that intersects with each other after midnight, you may see somebody sweeping the exactly spot in wich both paths are connected. And that somebody would be-- a witch that you better ignore and don't look into her eyes

60: do you like poetry? what are some of your faves?

I love Machado and Ruben Dario! La princesa está triste being one of my faves

61: what's the stupidest gift you've ever given? the stupidest one you've ever received?

The one i've given-- A freaking joice! All neatly wrapped and all. The stupidest I've recieved... a toilet brush holder shaped as an owl!! I like to make gifs as joke, and my family/friends like to make them to me too because they know how silly am I

62: do you drink juice in the morning? which kind?

Sometimes! Usually of orange, but I like the one of pineapple too!!

63: are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be?

I keep them organized by shapes!!! My babies

64: what color is the sky where you are right now?

Dark! It's late here

65: is there anyone you haven't seen in a long time who you'd love to hang out with?

So.. many people? My friends life far away now...

66: what would your ideal flower crown look like?

Roses and mimosa flowers!

67: how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel?

Well, here it usually is like that, so it makes me feel just... normal?

68: what's winter like where you live?

Super cold!

69: what are your favorite board games?

MONOPOLY! I am such a nerd of Monopoly, all my friends are tired of my shit with that game. I also like Cards againt humanity pretty much

70: have you ever used a ouija board?

Nop. And never will. There are some stuff we gotta leave alone, you know.

71: what's your favorite kind of tea?

Black! With milk

72: are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you'll forget it?

...Yes. Pretty much

73: what are some of your worst habits?

Mhmmm... Talking too loud, probably. I am kinda, aaah... escandalous?

74: describe a good friend of yours without using their name or gendered pronouns.

A nerd of blue eyes with a dreamy smile who makes everything they touch super cute. Their aesthetic? Red roses, vintage stuff and plushies. Gives the best hugs ever and never ever ever even in thousand years I would hurt them. (I am full of love for all my friends! But I hang out with them some days ago and I am still super glad they exist)

75: tell us about your pets!

Her name is Tana and she is a BITH

76: is there anything you should be doing right now but aren't?

Probably drawing... or sleeping. My back is killing me

77: pink or yellow lemonade?

MANGO lemonade!

78: are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub?

Hate them- Although some of their mercha is pretty cute

79: what's one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you?

Mhmhmhmmmmmm... so many stuff--? I am so grateful everytime somebody makes anything to me. But a thing I find it super cute is when my friends lend me their own clothes when it's cold and I am an stoopid who brought a summer thing... ///

80: what color are your bedroom walls? did you choose that color? if so, why?

White! They are pretty boring -v- I didn't choose it

81: describe one of your friend's eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of.

Like open, clean skies, with long, pale eyelashes. Golden petals in the irises... (It's a different blue of the other person I was talking to!!)

82: are/were you good in school?

People tend to think that I am super nerd, but I am just okay, tbh

83: what's some of your favorite album art?

I don't really know I don't owe any...

84: are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones?

Oh! Yes, maybe! Wings in my back, something in my wrist. I am still not sure what. I used to want the dark mark but gods, I fell out of love with HP last year =v="

85: do you read comics? what are your faves?

YES! I really enjoy reading shojo 9//9

86: do you like concept albums? which ones?

Oh! Yes. The ones about weird photographies are usually my faves

87: what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives?

Megamind, Ever after and Amelie

88: are there any artistic movements you particularly enjoy?

Oh! Reneassance and Dada, probably. I like pretty much impressionism too

89: are you close to your parents?

Eh! Only to my mom. Although she sometimes it a little too... much, being honest.

90: talk about your one of you favorite cities.

Madrid? Probably. Even if it smells like piss

91: where do you plan on traveling this year?

I am not planning to travel anywhere- Maybe to Santiago in my brother and me's birthdays, just to chill

92: are you a person who drowns their pasta in cheese or a person who barely sprinkles a pinch?

I love cheese, but I usually only use a tiny bit of it on my pasta

93: what's the hairstyle you wear the most?

I only let my hair down, I am a simple Lani

94: who was the last person you know to have a birthday?

Certain Rene! > v >

95: what are your plans for this weekend?

MMMMMMMh... Going out with some friends! I don't know where, 'tho

96: do you install your computer updates really quickly or do you procrastinate on them a lot?

I install them p fast! I try to take good care of my bab

97: myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and hogwarts house?

INFP | Virgo | Slytherin (I am all the good stuff!!)

98: when's the last time you went hiking? did you enjoy it?

HMMM... I live in a place we have nature everywhere, so explain which exactly means ‘hiking’, because so many times I end up in a place that looks like a mountain (oh!)

99: list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HfUKpLGgts4 <- "If you'll be my star, I'll be your sky. You can hide underneath me and come out at night. When I turn jet black and you show off your light I live to let you shine " one of my very favourites ever. I feel like it did sum up my feeling many times

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=klHpznbGeYc <- "Try not to mistake what you have with what you hate " Love that one..

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tlAiq0_BXac <- "Hey, would it be so bad if I stayed? I'm just a ghost out of his grave. I won't put white into your hair... I won't make noises in your stairs. I will be kind and I'll be sweet if you stop staring straight through me " I can't explain how much this one means to me... I even have a comic planned because of it

100: if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? Why?

To the past. I will fix so many stuff now that I know better.

#lani's #taggs #about #long post

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