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blissfulphilospher · 1 month

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So, I don't know why I am posting this but I had this in my heart since a long time. So, bear with me.

I read Princess and the Queen and Fire and Blood back in 2019, after GoT ended for more content. And I got to know about The Dance from Tumblr, the awesome artists and fanarts.

When I read those books, I felt for Rhaenyra. No I don't have a step mother but Rhaenyra felt alone, like her mother died and her father remarried, her new step mom was first kind and loving but then after a brother all that changed.

I can't blame book Rhaenyra for not having good relationship with her siblings, she was a child, just like them and the world was trying to replace her with them just as her mother had been replaced. (When my brother was born, I felt the same and we don't have the best relationship even now, but you know whose fault is that? Adults. Adults who love to compare and pity siblings against siblings)

Why Viserys never tried to mend the relationship between his eldest son and daughter? Even Alicent tried. And then Daemon evidently manipulated Rhaenyra more to hate her siblings for his own benefit. He was pushed down in succession. (He should never have been in succession)

Then Rhaenyra grows older, bold and doing as she like, fighting her step mother, beefing with her siblings and people are following her. She is being courted and has freedom in that era.

I liked book Rhaenyra because she seemed ruthless. She wasn't trying to pretend being good, she was ambitious, she was fighting for the throne because her father chose her. Not because of a stupid prophecy. We all know how that ended. She wanted the throne. (I will eat my brother alive if my father chose me for something and not him). She was unhinged.

And I liked that about her. I liked Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen. She was greatly flawed, she offered her brothers for Laenor, she fed a man to her dragon, she hosted a lavish feast in a starving city, she was a woman and let men do the fighting. She was a mother and did everything to protect her children (foolishly though). She faced death with bravery and didn't begged and didn't offered negotiation, didn't ran. A true dragon. Like those menacing cruel dragons?

And then HotD gave us...

1) 'I rather serve as a knight and ride to battle and glory' but she isn't train with swords. If she wants that then why isn't she trained? Was this to appease Arya's fans? Also this message of feminism, 'a woman only cool and worth something when she wants to be like men, Do what men does.' I am not saying this is bad but you are making her a feminist atleast let her appreciate females? Also, again, if she wanted to train with swords then why didn't she? Nobody stopped Visenya and Alyssa, no one would have stopped her.

2) On Aegon's nameday, enough people have said that already, Rhaenyra being mean to her two year old brother and acting like a spoilt child but I want to add this—

Everyone came there for Aegon, hoping Viserys will name him heir. HotD gave us Rhaenyra acting like a brat and then killing a boar and totally projecting her as a protagonist by showing White Hart, and sexy cool asf covered with blood. She could have made alliance, like book Rhaenyra would have mingled with everyone, dressed better than everyone, charming everyone. Not arguing with other ladies and lords.

3) Daemyra. Enough said. I never thought Book Rhaenyra and Book Daemon had any great love story, they were not even written as such. Nah, Rhaenyra desired Criston, tried to seduce him first. Daemon was only using her. He had one healthy relationship in the book and that was with Laena. They both came together because none of them considered Alicent and her children as their family too.

I hate this show for promoting them as some great tragic love. Nah, Rhaenyra needed his protection and Daemon wanted to be closer to the throne. Why didn't they let them be that? How are they going to justify as to why Daemon left Rhaenyra and his son alone to go die along with Aemond?

And if Daemyra is a great tragic love story why they got afraid to show Rhaenyra having Laenor murdered? Because that was the level of her craziness in the books, and that's in the character of Daemyra. That's 'I will do anything to be with you, for you' energy.

Gods, I thought Rhaenyra would be Cersei Lannister level in HotD, cool, snarky, awesome, beautiful, unhinged, fashion icon, doing everything for her children, doing everything for her and not shying away from the person she is, a necessary evil (like feeding Vaemond to Syrax). And incestuous. Of course Jaime x Cersei level of craziness in Daemyra?

In HotD... Emma and Milly did awesome job but their character was bland. Served to us by writers as 'a goody two shoes always right'. 'she can do nothing wrong.'

Why is media afraid of showing what women are? Why can we only be 'goody two shoes, patriarchy bad, I am awesome cause I am not like other girls' in feminist shows? Why can't they women as humans, as grey, ambitious? Why can't woman be anti hero? Rhaenyra is suffering from stereotyped blend of Arya and Dany.

Alicent is a fresh breath in that regard. But I hate the show for stripping away her agency and making her a crybaby. You are showing me that the Queen, who may or not have murdered Viserys, cried for him? That her, who plotted and plotted and led the Greens, crowned her daughter would not want her son to be king?

They even changed the dinner scene, everyone was supposed to make fun of the other party. No heartwarming and Aegon was supposed to fight Jace.

But make two female characters cry over each other, cry over men, abuse them, strip their agency, make the person you are trying to show as protag (she should not even be a protag) blander than water and call it a feminist show.

(HotD should not even be a feminist show, it should have been a family drama show. Imagine my embarrassment when I told my brother that I love Rhaenyra and I am just like her before the show started and by the end I was like ... Wow Aegon Second of His Name, I stan the One True King. Because he, despite they made him a monster is more interesting than Rhaenyra at this point.)

I was robbed. We were robbed of spicy hot pizza and instead given a bland cheese toast.

I refuse to eat bread, give me cake. Cersei, Margaery, Catelyn were cake, Alicent... She is the cookie. (Not adding Sansa because in the end of the show... Book Sansa is pastry.)

At this moment we all most cope. Thank you whoever read this. Also wanted to add, I was Team Woman but I can't stan this Rhaenyra. Nah.

#alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #fire and blood #cersei lannister #anti hotd #book rhaenyra #anti hotd Rhaenyra #this is not feminism #team green #anti daemyra #anti team black

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elbiotipo · 3 months

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Was thinking about the whole owl fiasco in New York (which is funny because we find wild animals around here every day but if it's it in New York it's international news)

And well, that owl was (apparently) freed by animal rights activists who wanted it to be free and stuff. They argue something on the grounds of "well MAYBE that owl died crashing into a building and spent the last weeks in a stressful enviroment eating rats full of poison but at least he died FREE". Which is of course, dumb.

And then some other people argue that it's wrong to free random animals from zoos and anthropomorphizing their freeddom, which is correct, but then they go all the way to the other side. I read someone posting that "owls in nature live 15 years, this one was going to live 60" and "animals in captivity don't want freedom since they are pampered" and while that's not untrue, animals in captivity do get a life that would be considered good and they get so used to it that many don't want or most often cannot be released... it's a poor argument. We really don't know if animals, among being pampered, don't desire more. One argued "owls love to sit in the same place and be fed" and are you sure? That does not sound like bird-like behavior to me.

And what's more, it's anthropomorphizing in reverse. The animal rights activists say "we cannot jail animals they want to be FREE" and these people argument back "no, no, they're living the good life, it's good that they are in captivity actually". Fine, what about of all the owls who live in the wild. Don't they deserve to live 60 years of pampering too? Current zoo animals shouldn't be freed, that's true. What about taking more, why not give them all a good life?

My response about this is that it's never about a single owl. We don't protect individual animals because of their own individual lives but because of what they mean for an ecosystem. When great pains are taken to protect charismatic megafauna such as pandas or whales, for example, it's because they're in danger of being lost forever. But also, because protecting them means protecting everything that supports them, the entire landscape (umbrella species). So the quality of life of a single owl in a single city is missing the point. We should instead asking, what's the quality of the ecosystems that support that species, and many others? The Eurasian Owl is a widely ranging species that has adapted to many enviroments, so it's not in danger of extinction anytime soon, but it's still good to ask: wouldn't it better to try and save the enviroments where it lives instead of a single owl in New York City? No animal is an isolated being, and both the animal right activists and their counterparts miss this. If we have animals in zoos, it must be for them to be safe enough so they can be reintroduced to their natural enviroments, which are the ones that truly need to be protected, as a whole. There is no point in arguing about a single bird when there's a whole forest of them.

#cosas mias #animals #falco the owl #<- I remembered his name just after writing all this #ecology

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chelseachilly · 10 months

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THIS LOVE - chapter two | the lights are so bright but they never blind me

pairing: ben chilwell x reader

rating: T

word count: 2.1k

summary: you have to adjust to life in the public eye as ben’s supposed girlfriend...and ben has to adjust to the sight of you wearing his chelsea kit to a game

A/N: thanks for more lovely messages, they really encourage me to update faster lol! i’m sorry this one’s a bit shorter, the next update will definitely be longer 😌 chapter title is from welcome to New York

previous chapter | view all chapters

The morning after the gala, you wake up in Ben’s guest room feeling relaxed and refreshed.

You always seem to get a better sleep when you stay at his, though you’re not sure if that’s due to his comfy mattress and expensive sheets or the fact that he lives out in Cobham and it’s significantly quieter than your own flat.

This state of relaxation lasts for about five minutes, or until you get a text from your friend Valerie asking if you’ve been on Twitter today.

Bracing yourself, you open the app and already see Ben’s name trending.

You’ve gained some followers over the years when Ben has posted you on his socials, but it’s nothing compared to the way people are currently talking about you all over the internet.

It’s not just on Twitter - your Instagram following count has already grown exponentially, and your comments are filled with everything under the sun, from praise to cruelty.

You know Ben gets shit like this all the time, and Mia warned you it would be coming your way, but it’s still surreal to read about yourself online.

Especially when none of it is true. Even the nice tweets about what a lovely couple you make are based on a lie.

You can’t resist going down the rabbit hole for a few minutes, reading pages of tweets from Ben’s fans speculating about your relationship, some negative and some positive. Eventually, you can feel your brain starting to hurt, and you know it’s in your best interest to shut your phone off for a while.

Begrudgingly, you force yourself to get out of bed and face the day. You make your way downstairs in your pyjamas, stretching your arms out as you enter the kitchen.

Ben is already awake, like he usually is at this time, and he’s standing by the stove in joggers and an old Nike sweatshirt, flipping pancakes that you know are not a part of his diet plan.

“Pancakes?” you question, startling Ben a bit as he turns to face you.

“Morning,” he says with a small smile. “Yeah, with blueberries. They’re for you. Figured it’s the least I could do since-“

“Since I’m being torn apart online by football fans?” you joke - or, at least, you mean it as a joke.

Ben’s face falls, his eyes wide with concern, and he sets down the spatula to walk over to you.

“I am so sorry, Y/N,” he says seriously. “I didn’t know it would be like this. I’ve obviously never had a real girlfriend before, so I didn’t think about it.”

“Ben, it’s-”

“I called Shreya as soon as I saw everything and had her prepare an exit strategy, she’s already confirmed our relationship to the press but she thinks we can back out of it if-“

“Ben,” you say a bit more firmly, placing a hand on his arm. “Why would we need to back out of this? Does she not think it’s working?”

Ben just blinks at you for a moment before shaking his head. “Well, no, actually. Apparently I’m getting great press from it, and you’re the one getting all the shitty comments. But I-”

“I’m fine with it, then,” you shrug. “I’ll just make my Instagram private, you know I don’t really care about social media anyways. I’ll be fine.”

Ben still doesn’t look convinced.

“Are you sure? I hate the thought of you having to read that crap,” he mumbles. “I’m used to the pricks, but you shouldn’t have to be.”

“It’s fine, Ben, I swear,” you insist, squeezing his shoulder. “Actually, some of your fans seem to like me. Or they like that I supposedly keep you grounded or whatever bullshit Shreya fed the press.”

“Well, that part’s not total bullshit,” Ben says with a small smile that makes your cheeks flush slightly. “Thank you again for doing this. And you can still change your mind at any time, you know.”

“I know,” you say, mirroring his smile. “Now hurry up before you burn my pancakes.”

“Oh, shit!”

By the next weekend, you’ve gotten pretty used to “dating” Ben.

You go private on your socials as you discussed, with the official statement from Ben’s publicist being that you two ask for privacy as a new couple. Naturally, this only makes everyone more interested, including the media.

As Shreya hoped, the headlines now describe Ben as a “man in love” and someone ready to “settle down with a nice girl.” There are tabloid articles with pictures of you two - some from before you were even pretending to date - and all the information they could dig up on you, including your job.

It’s all a bit weird, but the weirdest part is definitely when you have to actually corroborate your story of being Ben’s girlfriend. Which, as far as everyone outside your inner circle is concerned, you now are.

It definitely feels strange lying when, for example, one of the doctors you work with congratulates you on your relationship. (Turns out her son is a Chelsea fan and she wants to know if you could ask him to sign a kit or something, which you promise to make happen.)

You’re relieved when the only event you have to attend this weekend is Ben’s game, which you would’ve gone to anyways. You’re also going with his sister Alex, who is obviously in on the whole thing, which makes it easier.

She meets you at your flat, which is conveniently only about ten minutes away from Stamford Bridge on the tube, an hour before the game.

After you tightly embrace Ben’s sister, who is like a younger sister to you as well, she grins and passes you a small gift bag.

“You got me a present?” you ask in confusion.

“It’s not from me, it’s from Ben,” she chuckles. “He also said to say he’s sorry and that it was Shreya’s idea.”

You open the bag and pull out a familiar article of clothing - a brand new Chelsea shirt with Ben’s name on the back.

Of course, as Ben’s girlfriend, it would make sense that you be wearing his kit.

“Oh, god, let me go change.”

Once you’ve replaced the plain blue t-shirt you were wearing with the shirt Ben sent over, you walk back out and find Alex with an amused look on her face.

“How do I look?” you ask a bit sarcastically as you do a twirl.

“Like a proper WAG,” Alex laughs. “Let’s go, my future sister-in-law.”

You groan as Alex grabs you by the arm and you depart for the match.

Although you’ve come to see Ben play at the Bridge more times than you can count, you have never felt this many eyes on you as you make your way to your seats. There are people not-so-subtly taking your photo as you walk up, probably made all the worse by the Chilwell kit you have on - though you suppose that’s the point.

The match begins, and you cheer at the top of your lungs for Chelsea, just as you have from the day Ben signed for them. You never really cared that much about football, and you didn’t support any particular club growing up, but you’ve always been Ben’s number one fan.

Today, he’s playing well, making you as proud as ever. It’s not hard to pretend to be the supportive girlfriend when every flawless pass or run forward has you leaping out of your seat with unrestrained enthusiasm.

At half-time, Chelsea are up by 1 against Newcastle, and you and Alex are happily chatting and catching up over a beer.

“I saw all the pics of you guys at the gala on Twitter,” Alex says with a smirk on her face, lowering her voice so nobody overhears. “I know it’s weird to say since you’re basically part of the family, but you actually look quite good together.”

“Ew, Alex, there’s no way,” you insist, a slight blush creeping onto your cheeks. “He’s…Ben.”

Alex just laughs and drops the subject as the game resumes and the boys come back out of the tunnel.

Around the 85th minute, with the score now tied 1-1, Ben comes running up the side and makes an excellent pass to Conor, who scores and secures the win. You jump out of your seats to cheer as the guys celebrate on the pitch, you rolling your eyes with affection as Ben and Conor jump up and down with excitement.

The whistle blows shortly after with Chelsea leaving victorious, and you and Alex make your way down to the tunnels to meet up with Ben. With this being their fourth win in a row, the atmosphere at the Bridge is electric, a far cry from last year’s rough season.

It’s so nice to see Ben so happy again, and the smile on his face only seems to grow tenfold when he spots you and Alex making your way over to him.

You can’t resist picking up your pace to a light jog as you move toward him, and his arms are already open to pull you into a tight hug that lifts your feet off the ground and makes your heart soar in a similar fashion.

“That assist was brilliant,” you murmur into his shoulder before he sets you down.

Ben pulls away, still beaming at you, his sweaty hair curled down over his forehead.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he smiles, his eyes wandering to the shirt you’d almost forgotten you were wearing.

It’s not the first time you’ve worn his kit - his England debut and the Champions League final come to mind - but those were special occasions, with the rest of his friends and family wearing it too. This is obviously different, and although Ben sent it over for you to wear, his eyes are locked to you like he’s trying to memorize every thread of the fabric.

You can’t figure out why he seems so transfixed, but you don’t have much time to dwell on it before you’re interrupted.

Alex clears her throat, snapping Ben out of whatever trance he was in, and he pulls her in for a hug.

“So, to celebrate the win and Ben’s assist, I’m thinking he should take us out for a nice dinner?” Alex suggests, smiling and nudging your arm.

“Shouldn’t you be buying me dinner?” Ben raises an eyebrow. When you both just laugh, he rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Alright. I’ll go shower, you make a reservation somewhere.”

After you and Alex have picked out the fanciest-looking sushi place you could find online and collected Ben from the changing rooms, you make your way to his car. Just like after every game, the paparazzi are out trying to get videos and photos of the players leaving the stadium.

This time, however, most of the attention seems to be directed at you.

The lights begin to flash the moment you exit the building, and Ben reaches down to take your hand without a second of hesitation. Whether it’s to flaunt your “relationship” further or just to comfort you, you’re not sure, but it’s definitely working either way.

“Y/N, did you enjoy the match today?”

You know you don’t have to answer any of their questions, but you’d rather not be branded as cold or rude as the media loves to do when a woman ignores them.

So you squeeze Ben’s hand and nod, smiling at the man recording you.

“Of course, the team played really well.”

“And what did you think of Ben’s performance?” they fire back at you.

“He was amazing,” you say without missing a beat. “I always love watching him on the pitch.”

You can see Ben smiling at you as you speak - a genuine smile that you know has nothing to do with the cameras surrounding you - but he startles you slightly when he leans in to peck your cheek and lets his lips linger there for a moment. They’re soft and warm against your skin, and you feel significantly colder when they pull away.

You’ve clearly spurred on the media even more with this sudden display of affection, but Ben begins to pull you along with him and help you into the car before either of you has to answer any more questions.

You breathe out a sigh of relief as you settle into the passenger seat, Ben and Alex entering the car moments later.

“Nice show, you two,” Alex laughs, obviously still amused by the sight of you and Ben pretending to be a couple.

“You okay, Y/N?” Ben asks, looking over at you. “Sorry if the cheek kiss was too much. I know it’s a bit awkward.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you assure him, rolling your eyes. “It’s fine. Of course it’s gonna be awkward sometimes, but as long as it’s helping with the PR plan, right?”

Ben nods gratefully and smiles at you once more before asking Alex for directions to the sushi place.

You’re grateful for her chatting away about how hungry she is, and for the song Ben is playing loudly through the speakers as you drive to the restaurant, both of which are helping to distract you from how alarmingly not awkward this all feels.

A/N: let me know what your thoughts are after this chapter!! things start to heat up in the next one i promise ;)

tag list: @lunamelona @kathb59 @captainwans @amandaaa1025 @bbygrlllllll @cinderellawithashoe @batmansb1tch @ncentic (let me know if you would like to be added!)

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell x reader #ben chilwell x y/n #ben chilwell imagine #chelsea fc imagine #this love #my fics

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twstmagica · 1 month

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Fetch Quest part 1

From the way Crowley had hyped it up, Yuu had expected acquiring a new magic gem to be an epic quest. She envisioned delving deep into the earth, scaling treacherous caverns, and narrowly dodging ferocious beasts. What they got instead was a relatively peaceful stroll.

Yuu says relatively because her company was totally dragging down the vibes.

“Myah! Are you crazy! It’s pitch black in there!”

Fire Catcoon, don't you have literal flames coming out your ears?

“I can't believe I’m stuck with a literal scaredy cat! This is pathetic.”

Stop egging him on Ace. That attitude is literally how you got here in the first place.

“You – !”

“Shut up! Both of you!” Fed up, Yuu seized them by an ear each.

“Yeouch!”

“What the fuc – !”

The brats struggle but there's no escape. “We’re here because the two of you couldn't handle one day without starting a fight that destroyed seven hallways!” Also Deuce’s shit aim but he wasn't being a problem right now.

The duo tries to protest but Yuu digs her nails into their ears.

Deuce watches in discomfort but doesn't actually try to stop her. Good.

“From now until we get back, I’m in charge, and I won't tolerate any more arguing. Are. We. Clear.” Yuu practically hisses the last part.

“Like I'm gonna –” Yuu pinches harder and twists. “Okay!”

Satisfied that order had been restored, Yuu surveyed the trio. Grim was still nursing his sore ear, Ace had retreated a few steps, shooting daggers with his glare, and Deuce was standing ramrod straight.

“So what's the plan then O’ mighty leader.”

Ace's sarcasm was thick, but Yuu ignored it. She had a job to do.

If she was being honest, Yuu didn't actually have much experience with leadership. Still, she could improvise. Channeling her experience teaming up against fiends, Yuu tries to imitate some of the squad leaders she's worked with.

“We go in staggered column formation. Myself at point, Grim and Ace take left and right respectively, and Deuce at the rear.” Yuu glares at them, daring anyone to interrupt.

“In the event of a hostile encounter, I’ll engage because I’m the only one with actual combat experience,” – Fire Catcoon starts to speak up but a pointed look silences him – “while Grim acts as my backup,” thanks to that night in Ramshackle she at least has an idea how he fights. “Ace and Deuce will provide cover fire when needed. Any questions?”

Deuce nervously raises a hand. “What's a staggered column formation?” Shifting in place he follows up, “and, uh, cover fire?”

Yuu blinks. Oh, right. Despite this world's freaky magic these people are still basically civilians. Glancing at the other two Yuu suspects they didn't understand much more than Deuce, but were too proud to admit it.

Motioning them over, she kneels down and starts drawing in the dirt.

“So we are going in with a four point zig-zag pattern,” Yuu starts, drawing four circles connected by a line.

“I’m this dot at the front, then Grim is a little behind to my left, Ace will be further back at Grims right, and we end with you at the back on Ace’s left.”

Deuce is looking avidly at her crude sketch and nods. Despite his aggression from today's earlier fiasco the blunett was being surprisingly cooperative.

“Cover fire means that if we get in a fight, while Grim and I move forward, you and Ace will use long range spells when we knock an enemy back.” I stand up and dust off my pants.

Fists clenching in determination Deuce looks in my eyes, “Got it!”

That's the spirit!

Too bad Ace has to speak up. “You're putting the weasel before us? What the hell?”

“Grim is my backup because we’ve fought together before and know how to avoid getting in each other's way.”

At this Grim puffs up with pride. “Yeah!”

“And I've been in combat situations since I was ten. So I’d say I'm qualified to decide this stuff.”

“Wait what?”

Ignoring Ace I summon my scepter, “Alright, nothing else? No? Great.”

“What's that about you fighting since you were ten?”

“I’ll tell you later. Now squad, get in formation.”

“Yeah!” Deuce and Grim cheer. Ace is still looking at me dubiously but he gets in position.

“Hold still, I'm going to cast a support spell. Grim, we did this before with the dorm ghosts.”

Grim’s tail wiggles as eyes light up with recognition. “The butterfly thing that made me stronger!”

“That's the one. Now, [Dreamer’s Blessing]!”

Shimmering butterflies spiral gently from my scepter and envelop the trio in a gentle glow.

“Alright, let's go!”

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I've got this and the end sorted but the fight scene in the middle is giving me trouble so I'm just splitting the mine into three parts. Part three is the start of where this au really diverge but it doesn't feel right to just 'yada yada' away the things that lead up to that.

#twisted wonderland #twst yuu #magical girl yuu #twisted wonderland au #twst #disney twst #twst mc #twst grim #ace trappola #deuce spade #I learned how to do the 'read more' line break thing #and I feel so powerful #i had to resist the urge to make grim start every sentence with 'Myah'#I looked up small unit tactics for this

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rinadragomir · 5 months

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Ok, I want to start off by saying that I am a fan of all arts and am so appreciative of the time, passion, and work that goes into any kind of content creation.

I am also very particular about when it comes to art. There are mangas, comics, animated works that I have difficulty reading/watching or will not read/watch if I'm not a fan of the art style.

And as an artist I understand that art is subjective and not everyone likes it. Just as I recognize that not everyone likes my particular art style and that's ok. (Not trying to have people come for me like I’m trashing Charlie’s art cuz I am 10000% not.)

Charlie does amazing work and I like it, but it's clear that her style has changed (as most content creators do) since the TLH portraits she did and the pieces that are going in the journal for CC's new kickstarter. I'm a self- taught artist so terminology isn't my best, but her style now is giving semi cartoon realism, but airing on the side of the cartoon more now.

I feel that my unpopular opinion is that I'm not a huge fan of it. I really like the TLH portraits she did of Matthew, James, Christopher, Thomas, ect, but idk there is something about these new portraits in her style that I'm just not liking. Her lines are much sharper now, darker, more profound and it feels like all of the face shapes/ jaw lines are basically the same (and I know I have no room to talk since I draw in an anime style so one could argue all my lines look the same).

and I'm NOT saying that they are carbon copies. Jem clearly looks different from Will down to his eye shape which is amazing and looks great. But idk...maybe part of my disliking is also the inconsistencies? and I'm using that term lightly...but like

Clary's hair looking straight when it's very canonly curly. Alec and Magnus having basically the same haircut... (I’m not the best person to speak on Dru…but CJ’s flower card is different and feels more like how she’s described on the book). The lack of and absence of runes... and I know all of that can be personal preference/stylistic choice. After all, art is subjective and based off of the artist's interpretation (for the most part anyway) but I'm a stickler for details so it bugs me…

And I just liked the softness/ more realism style of the previous portraits Charlie has done for TSC than these newer ones. These new ones are nice and I do like them…just not as much…and there are some that I don’t like at all.

Thanks for reading my ramble 😂 I hope it made sense

Summary: I like Charlie’s work, but am not a huge fan of these new TSC portraits.

BESTIE I'M ABOUT TO CRY😭THE WAY I ASKED YOU MYSELF TO EXPRESS YOUR FEELING IN MY ASKBOX AND THEN FORGOT ABOUT IT

Okay okay, SO! You're so brave for saying this, LIKE YES WE'RE BEING FED, thank you for the content for our dying fandom, but damn...

Allow me to also start with: WE LOVE YOU CHARLIE, WE JUST LOVE TO COMPLAIN🥺

I can understand Clary's hair, she could have styled them, I understand few runes on James, maybe Cassie didn't clarify that BUT WHAT ABOUT THESE😫the first one looks like a dream and the second one... I'm not sure, it feels like sth is wrong about it but I'm not an artist and I can't say what exactly is off

BUT SOMETHING IS OFF RIGHT?

One time she nails the character completely and the next time BOOM JUMPSCARE

Is it Cristina? Is it... who's it😳 it can't be Dru

But also I can't blame Charlie, I mean I also prefer her old style, but I'm mostly confused by Cassie. Like...you paid for the work and had a chance to correct the artist or clarify some details about the characters but...you saw this and went YEAH THAT'S WHAT I WAS LOOKING FOR, NO, NO NEED TO FIX ANYTHING IT'S ALREADY PERFECT

Girl—

#cassandra clare #damn i love this woman but in case someone might say I'm hating EVEN THOUGH I'M NOT #I'll put this🫴🏻#anti cassandra clare #just in case #charlie bowater #nothing against you #we love you 🫶🏻#tsc #tlh #the last hours #twp #dru blackthorn #wessa #chain of thorns #malec

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lavendertales · 1 year

Text

Sweet lies: Chapter 5

pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

summary: the Millers invite everyone over at their place for Valentine’s day, and things have never felt lonelier for you. But the end of the night has a surprise twist for you.

word count: 5k

A/N: now we’re getting into the juicy part. huge thanks to @cheshire-noir for helping me with a good part of this!

Comments & reblogs are forever appreciated 💕

gif: @pascalsky

series masterlist | AO3

As much as you tried to remain the professional and hardworking person you have always been, that Friday had your mind spinning relentlessly.

Last night’s dinner was still fresh on your mind, taunting you alongside Frankie and Andrea. Worst part was that you actually liked Andrea. It was virtually impossible to nest any negative feelings towards someone so incredible.

But then you recalled Frankie’s hesitant side glares, his Adam’s apple bobbing with each nervous gulp he took, the sheer regretful expression on his face whenever the two of you locked eyes, and you wondered if somehow, maybe, he wasn’t so confident in his relationship.

It couldn’t have been. It was just your jealousy talking deep in your subconscious, giving you false hope. You’ve been down that road before, being fed up lies by your own mind and tricked by your heart. You did not need that again, and certainly not when Frankie was engaged.

You had to be on your best behavior. The two of you were no longer friends, but merely old acquaintances, so you shouldn’t have had an issue with giving him the cold shoulder. The farther he was from you, the better. Even if you had foolishly agreed to go to the Valentine’s Day bash that Will and Benny were throwing, that didn’t mean you could act reckless.

So you came up with a plan.

“Good news, your girl finished her presentation early, which means I am available for some weekend fun,” Rose’s confident voice giggles over the phone.

It’s a little over eleven p.m., and you’re already half asleep in your bed, but as luck would have it, Rose’s timing is impeccable.

“Congratulations,” you say, genuinely impressed by her work ethic. “At least one of us was professional today.”

“Uh-oh. I take it dinner was awkward last night?”

“Frankie came with his fiancé.”

Silence. You can hear Rose’s jaw drop and her steady breaths. If you listen closely enough, you can hear her processing what you just told her.

“They both came?” she asks.

“Yeah. It was dinner with friends and their significant others, of course he would’ve brought his fiancé. It was stupid of me to think he wouldn’t.”

“Still, I can’t imagine it was pleasant to just have her in your face like that.”

“She’s actually pretty awesome.”

“What?!”

Rose’s indignation actually steals a chuckle out of you, for which you are thankful.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” she continues.

You scoff. “I’m serious! She’s an incredible, accomplished woman.”

“I don’t care, that is the enemy!”

“She’s really not. If anything, Frankie is. He’s the one who fucked it all up.”

“Fair point. What’s so incredible about this woman, anyway?”

“Well, her name’s Andrea and she’s a dermatologist, she regularly volunteers for different charities, she’s hilarious and sweet… oh, and she’s unfairly gorgeous.”

“How gorgeous are we talking here?”

“Green eyes, light brown hair with cute bangs, caramel skin… and she smells great.”

“Shit, that does sound great.”

“So you see my problem.”

“I do. But I can hate her.”

“What—Rose, you don’t even know her.”

“When has that ever stopped us? We’ve hated people for no reason before.”

“Yes, but those were celebrities. And it was usually because they either had something we don’t have, or because we just didn’t like them.”

“Hello! How is this any different?”

You chuckle again, your chest growing heavier with concern regarding tomorrow’s plans.

“Hey, listen, since you’re free this weekend,” you start, “how do you feel about spending Valentine’s Day with me tomorrow?”

“Uh… okay, I really appreciate the sentiment, but I’m not sure what kind of message did I send to you before.”

You both laugh. “Will and Ben are throwing this little Valentine’s get-together between friends—and their girlfriends too, I guess—and I could really use a friendly shoulder there.”

“Hmm. So everyone’s gonna be happily nuzzling next to their significant others?”

“All, except me and Frankie. Andrea can’t come apparently.”

“Gotta say, I’m a little relieved, I thought I was going to have to show some PDA in order to be able to stay.”

You laugh some more, eagerly anticipating her response.

“Won’t it be awkward?” Rose asks.

“Possibly. Every interaction I’ve had so far has been more or less so. Please, you gotta come with me.”

“I will, I will. Just gotta stop by at my grandma’s first to check in on her.”

“How is she doing after the hip replacement surgery?”

“Pretty good. More mobile each day.”

“Oh, that’s great!”

“Yeah. But after that, I’m totally gonna be there for you.”

“Good. Cause I’m your best friend, and you have to help a friend in need.”

“True.”

“Also, Santi will be there.”

You can tell that has Rose’s attention. Hell, even you smile. You’ve been hoping for a long time that she and Santiago would act upon their feelings, but clearly they both had been shy to initiate.

“I was gonna come anyway, just to clarify,” Rose pushes, to which you smirk.

“Mhm.”

“This is just… an added bonus.”

“Of course it is. I’ll see you tomorrow then, at the Millers?”

“You got it. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight. Oh, and thank you, Rose. I love you.”

“You don’t have a thing to thank me for. I love you too.”

Knowing that Rose will be there makes it easier for you to fall asleep, and to navigate through next day’s tasks. You wake up pretty early in order to go your grocery shopping, your cleaning and your cooking, and when the clock strikes five p.m., you are in your bathroom, showering and putting a little makeup on.

It’s not a party, you keep reminding yourself of Will’s words. So you don’t overdress, and you don’t overdo it with makeup. Just something cute and casual for a night out with your friends.

And their girlfriends. And, with Rose there, probably making heart eyes at Santiago, that means it’ll be just you and Frankie.

Okay, so maybe your plan wasn’t so well thought. Maybe you could back out of going. Who would really care, on Valentine’s, no less?

Oh, but they would. You knew the guys, you knew your friends, and you knew how relentless they could be about group hangouts and such. You knew they would bother you consistently, bombard you with questions about why you were a no-show at the very last moment.

Honestly, the idea of free drinks kept you motivated enough. In the event of Rose disappearing somewhere to snuggle with Santi, you’d have your trusted companions, the beers.

But you refuse to show up empty handed, so you carry with you a big plate of sandwiches and a bottle of wine. You put in the location on the GPS and drive through the snowed streets.

You’ve been to Will’s and Benny’s plenty of times, but you felt safer having the address right there in front of you, especially on an icy evening like that. Even on a tender day such as Valentine’s Day, February knows how to remind you of its cold, cold wrath.

Standing on the doorstep of the Millers’ humble bungalow merely twenty minutes later, your warmest clothes prove nothing on that bitter evening. You rang the doorbell once and are now anxiously waiting for either Will or Benny to let you in.

Soon, waiting becomes a daunting task. But not only because of the bitter wind chills.

Will and Benny are hosting this party—scratch that. A get-together. Friendly faces, and yet all of them seem to belong to mere ghosts of your past. For them, Valentine’s Day didn’t need the frills and ties, but rather friends and stiff drinks. Plus, they had their wonderful girlfriends by their side, so even the most mundane tasks could be deemed as romantic and well-thought. Will reassured you it would be a smaller gathering, just the lonely ones and the dorks who actually managed to score someone. Still, the sight of the cramped cars in the driveway spiked your anxiety when the GPS told you “arrived at your destination”. But you prevailed, and marched to the front door nonetheless. You had made a promise, after all.

Hurry up, guys, your mind begs, huffing into your hands to keep you warm. Finally, you see a familiar face grinning from the door window. Not Will, rather Benny. Your eyes soften, eagerly pushing your way in, even as Benny already starts fussing over how long you waited.

“It’s fine,” you tell him sincerely.

“I shouted at Will to open the door a dozen times,” he seemingly apologizes. “I had the glasses in my hand, but no, I gotta do all the work. So much for big bro duties. Here, let me take that.”

You chuckle as Benny takes the plate and bottle of wine from your hand, and you take a look around. You were swathed in warmth as soon as you crossed the threshold into the home. Something about being inside made you relax much more. It could be the coziness of the two-story living, where every room in the house bled into each other. Or it could be that the furniture choices were plump and rosy leather adorned in animal themed blankets, tapestries and cushions. In the living room, MTV is playing on the television, the soft drones of Robert Smith from The Cure filling you with the melancholy you had come to associate with the holiday.

From the couch, Will greets you, inviting you to sit as you hand your jacket off to Benny. Will and Mia are sitting over at one of the two olive couches that surround the fireplace. Benny has no problem plopping himself next to his brother and his girlfriend, the latter having his own significant other join in, but you decide to pick the couch across from them, the one closest to the kitchen. Not just because it might be useful should you require more drinks, but also because you think five’s a crowd, and couples need their intimacy.

The light in the kitchen is on and you can see two shadows bouncing across the walls. They are talking about something, but you can’t pick up on any of it, not when you have Will and Mia’s conversation ringing in the other ear. Although, you still can’t help but stare at the shapes.

One looks stocky, and seems to be the one making the most noise out of them. But the other. The other has a cap on, larger arms, a deeper voice, dripping with age like a fine wine. He and Benny are the youngest among the boys, but his voice is coarse and thick with plenty of emotions that still have a grip over you.

You shake your head briefly, forcing yourself to smile and even giggle at the excited voices in front of you. It’s a favorable situation rather than staring at Frankie the whole time, which you swore you wouldn’t do, no matter what.

You fleetingly check your watch, wondering when Rose will get there. You grow to hate this feeling of helplessness when it comes to being around Frankie. It’s not that you are not strong, quite the opposite: you are more than capable of being cold and distant, but gazing over at him, looking and longing at the same time? A whole other story.

You’re not quite sure what it is about Frankie that still has you in a chokehold. Actually, you do know, you just like denying it, especially now given the circumstances. In every way, Frankie is the embodiment of your dream partner. He’s kind, funny, sweet, smart, protective, and just overall a warm person that once made you feel like you were truly yourself, and not just playing a game.

After all this time, your feelings for him have not vanished as you had hoped. You foolishly thought distance would help you forget, but now that you have been thrust back into your old life, you see things are no different than when you left.

At least in that regard.

Looking at Will and Benny happily sharing with you stories of their adventures with the girls, you sport a sincere smile. You have never seen them so fulfilled, so blissful, and it makes your heart tremble with joy. Yet there is a permanent ache in your heart that you cannot deny, one you doubt anyone would fully understand.

“Hey, you’re here!” Santiago says, pulling you in to hug you tight.

You reciprocate, eyes landing on Frankie’s figure in the background. He seems apologetic, averting your gaze as much as he can, as if he’s guilty of something. Deep down, you do understand his reaction and, oddly enough, you are thankful that he’s not pushing the note in any way.

“I heard Emily made heart shaped cookies, and you know I’m a sucker for cookies,” you joke.

“You have to try them, they are out of this world,” Mia fortifies.

You all chuckle, and you do in fact stretch your arm towards the coffee table in the middle to grab one of the cookies on the plate and take a bite out of it, instantly melting.

“Oh my God,” you nearly shout, immediately taking another bite. “These are heavenly!”

“Thank you!” Emily smiles, her cheeks now flushed. “I don’t make them that often though.”

“I can see why! It’s tough to stay away from them, shit.”

You finish the cookie and grab another one, causing everyone to giggle.

“It’s also why I told her to never, under any circumstances, share the recipe,” Benny adds. “This is cause for fight.”

“It sure is,” Will says.

You don’t realize you’re still in Santiago’s arms; when you do realize that, you inch away in the slightest, right under Frankie’s studious eyes. Curiosity has him by the throat, yet he can’t bring himself to ask you or Santiago any questions. He’s not sure he wants to know.

“Hi,” you finally greet Frankie, voice small and anxious.

“Hi,” he replies.

You’re tired of this; you are so tired of walking around on eggshells, measuring your words and actions and trying to stay away while also wanting to be part of the group again. It’s absolutely exhausting.

“You want something to drink?” Santiago offers, and you nod.

Frankie’s eyes don’t leave the two of you, silently studying you from the corner of his eye. He watches you go into the kitchen, exchange some words as Santiago opens up a beer bottle and hands it to you, and then he sees you lightly touching his arm.

He doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t want to know. It’s none of his business. He has no right asking or even caring anymore.

Then why does his chest ache so? Why does it feel like there’s a beast trapped inside of him that roars and scratches violently at the simplest of sights?

He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care.

“Okay, so,” Will announces, standing up now that you and Santiago return to the living room. “Now that we are all here.”

“Actually, Rose should be here any minute,” Santiago intervene.

“Oh. That’s okay, we can wait then.”

“What’s going on, guys?” you ask.

Will and Benny exchange a glare, as well as Mia and Emily, and you instantly know both couples have news. The options are limited, although you can pretty much figure out what’s going on before it’s even said.

And before you know it, you’re halfway through the beer bottle, wishing you had called a cab instead of driving to the bungalow.

“Well, uh… Mia and I are engaged,” Will says, reaching to grab his now fiancé’s hand.

It’s then that you notice the ring on Mia’s finger, shining as brightly as her eyes when she looks at Will. Laudatory exclaims burst among you all, and you’re quick to finish your beer before hugging Mia and then Will. Your heart swells and trembles with even more happiness, admiring them as Santiago and Frankie congratulate their friend.

“Benny has some news too,” Will chuckles.

All eyes turn to Benny, who instead looks over at Emily. Her cheeks burn auburn still, indicating nervousness and flattery.

“We’re moving in together,” she says.

More congratulations are being shared, the entire group hugging the other happy couple. You don’t think you could be any happier than you are at this very moment.

Or lonelier.

What a fascinating mixture, that of delight for your friends and loneliness for yourself. Contradictory, opposing poles, yet equally true.

You don’t let it show, though. Tonight it’s cause for celebration, and you are too focused on your friends’ fulfilled lives to allow any negative emotion impact it.

Although you can’t help but think that your steps are guided by some sort of negative emotion when you find yourself into the kitchen, grabbing another beer to toast to your friends.

“To Will and Benny, finally committed and off of our hands,” Santiago toasts, and you all laugh. “Girls, best of luck.”

“Here, here!”

You feel your phone buzzing in your pocket, and you swiftly notice a text from Rose: “Be there soon, max one hour. Sorry for the delay!” You don’t know why, but your stomach drops. Rose will be there soon, why do you feel so disarmed and hopeless? It doesn’t make much sense, and you don’t try to dig deeper. Not tonight.

You’re feeling a bit of a mess, so the best you can do is smile and nod along, drinking cheerfully along your very joyful and gratified friends. You look at them all, admiring and holding out hope for all of them, so much so that you forget about yourself momentarily. Just for one moment, you forget about the confusing mixture of feelings and how it fucks you up in this very moment.

So Will is engaged, Benny’s getting his own place with his girlfriend, and Frankie is engaged. That leaves you and Santiago as the lonely bachelors in the group.

Except Santiago’s smitten with Rose, and vice versa, and you have a feeling those two will end up together. Which means, when that’ll inevitably happen, it will be just you. Stuck in the same cycle, no matter how hard you have tried to run away from it or tell yourself you changed.

Definitely should’ve taken a cab. Tonight requires a whole lot more drinking.

Music starts blasting in the speakers, with the two happy couples and Frankie settling for an excited talk regarding the upcoming nuptials and move-in. You settle in the kitchen, taking a seat and sipping from your beer while your eyes remain on the five people on the couch. There is an odd sense of melancholy washing over you, like you are an intruder in all of those people’s lives, and that they’d be much happier without you. Like their lives would also be easier without you.

“Hey,” Santiago’s voice brings you back to earth. “You okay?”

He takes the seat next to you, nudging you with his shoulder. “Yeah,” you reply flatly, voice a little shaky, too. “So many good news tonight already, it’s… a lot.”

“I’m pretty surprised myself. More by Benny, not Will. Will’s got this commitment thing covered. Benny, on the other hand…”

You chuckle, staring at the bottom of the beer that’s dangerously close now. “But look at him now. A grown man, our Benny.”

“They’re all moving on, building their lives.”

“Yep.”

“Guess it’s just you and me now. The last two bachelors of the group.”

You purse your lips together, staring at him in a haze. “Maybe you and I should’ve given this a proper go.”

Santiago smirks, eyeing you up and down.

“Is that so?” he smiles.

“We might’ve actually had a real shot a while back.”

“At the very least we could’ve followed through with that little moment in the car.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“One complete and good memory from back then.”

You nod, reminiscing of the time when you returned to town for a few weeks, a couple of years back, and decided to try something new. You thought it was the right thing to do, but the short-lived romance proved otherwise for you both.

“Or we might’ve screwed things up completely,” you say.

“Or that.”

“I mean, look at me and Frankie. One wrong move and it’s all fucked up.”

You sigh deeply, your head now resting in the crook of Santiago’s neck. He smells of cologne and forest, fresh and… uncomplicated. His arm wraps around you, pulling you in closer.

All under Frankie’s eyes.

He can’t stop staring at the two of you, so close and intimate in the kitchen, and his mind starts to wonder, to fabricate little scenarios that make the room spin around him. It all comes crashing down on him when he starts to acknowledge the fact that you and Santiago make perfect sense.

“You good there, Fish?” Benny asks, hand on his shoulder.

“Hm?”

He’s blatantly staring and he didn’t even realize it till then. Now, his gaze returns upon those in the living room.

“You good?” Benny repeats the question.

“I’m good, yeah,” he replies.

“Cause… you were staring.”

“I was just… curious.”

Mia and Emily look over to the kitchen as well, then back at Frankie. “Oh, those two?” Mia chuckles. “Yeah, we’re curious, too.”

Frankie, instead, frowns.

“They’ve gotten very close in the past few years,” Will admits. “Not sure to what extent, but they sure are close.”

“I for one think that if there is something going on, we should give them some space,” Emily says. “Friends dating… it can be tricky to navigate. Let’s leave them alone in the meantime.”

Frankie gulps, finishing his beer, eager for another one. He stands up, heads to the kitchen, where he locks eyes with you and Santiago. The two of you separate, staring at him, but Frankie doesn’t say a word. He just reaches in the fridge for another beer, opens it and walks away, right outside into the cold.

He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care. He definitely shouldn’t care.

“What’s with him?” you ask.

“I have no idea. Maybe it’s the stress of planning a wedding.”

“Right.”

The doorbell is heard, turning towards Santiago with a smile. “That’s Rose.”

You see him take a deep breath, his mind clearly racing just as much as his heart, and you know he’s overthinking the moment. You have the same look on your face when you do it.

“Go,” you nearly push him off the chair. “Why are you still here?”

“I’m going, okay? I don’t wanna seem too eager.”

“You’re reeking of neediness already. Go.”

When you’re alone in the kitchen, you have the nerve to finish the beer, then raiding for another one. You’re probably going to regret this, but you need something to take the edge off.

You spy into the living room, noticing Santiago and Rose emerged into a conversation filled with shy smiles and flushed cheeks, and you smile. God, I hope this works between them. They’re too good for each other to not make this work.

But life sometimes has a funny and cruel way of pulling two perfect people apart from each other. You’ve experienced it firsthand, and you’d hate seeing this happen to two of the dearest people in your life.

You keep hearing music, and after a while, those in the living room start dancing with each other and you take that as your cue to leave. You feel like an extra there, just looking at the happy couples giggling and talking to each other.

Before you know it, you find yourself outside, slowly inhaling the cold air. You’re a bit tipsy, so this is just what you need to remain grounded in the present. A present where you’re basically left behind, alone, just you and the professional ladder you are desperately trying to climb in order to feel like you are achieving something.

By all means, you are happy. You have a great new job, great life, health… everything is good. So there is no reason for you to be feeling like this, is there?

“It’s freezing, you should get back inside,” a voice shouts.

You come to realize that it’s Frankie. He’s on the porch, few inches away, barely staring at you.

“Could tell you the same thing,” you say.

“I happen to be okay with the cold. I know you hate it.”

You tsk, hating how much he still knows about you. You stare into the far off distance, beer in hand. Luckily the alcohol keeps you a little warm, so you don’t really care about the freezing temperatures right now.

“Needed some air,” you say.

“Aka a break from all the happy inside.”

“I didn’t say—“

“You didn’t have to.”

“Would you just—knock it off?”

It is now that you turn to meet his gaze, fury radiating from your eyes. He can feel it, too; you see it in his body language, the way he’s trying to make himself seem smaller next to you. But he doesn’t avert his eyes. Instead, he seems to be staring right at you, with a certain darkness in his eyes that you fail to recognize.

“Look, I’m tired of this, Frankie,” you surrender. “I am sick and tired of trying my hardest to be distant and keep you at bay… and I’m sorry I’m acting like a bitch. I am not, I’m really not.”

“I know you’re not. You got every right to act this way, though.”

You chuckle. “Well, at least you understand what the situation is.”

“Of course I do. I’m not an idiot, okay? I know this is… fucked up and hurtful and messy… but I miss you.”

The moment he says that, your heart begins to race like crazy.

“As a—friend,” he clarifies, gulping.

“I want us to function normally too, like we used to, but I don’t know if it’s possible, Frankie. I gotta respect you and Andrea’s relationship, and… a single woman is not to be around a committed guy.”

Frankie scoffs, finishing his beer and putting the empty bottle on the porch, half in snow. “Single? Really?”

“Yes, really. Why?”

He falters, trips over his own thoughts, and he keeps quiet. It’s his best play at this very moment.

“I missed you too,” you confess shyly, in an almost non-existent voice.

But he hears it. He hears and sees you crystal clear, burning and aching with his whole body. He should not be feeling this way. He should not be surprised that you’d be interested in Santiago. He should not be upset by it, nor should he be feeling this way around you. It’s not okay. It’s not normal to burn this much for someone.

And yet here he is, secretly doing it anyway, and shoving it deep down with every ounce of strength imaginable.

You sneak a peek through the window, noticing Rose still talking to Santiago, seemingly laughing out loud, and your heart quickly swells and then deflates. When you finish your beer, you find Frankie to stand much closer to you, cutting out the air from your lungs. You barely feel the cold anymore, even if your fingers turn purple and your face is red with something you can’t quite discern.

“I’m really sorry that I let you go,” he mutters. “I was a dick. Pope reminds me once or twice a year.”

You actually chuckle. “Good.”

“He’s a great friend.”

“That he is.”

“And you guys seem to be very close. Kind of like…”

“We used to be?”

He nods. When your eyes meet and neither shies away, it’s electric. It’s a rush, a moment filled with unspoken emotion. You want to look away, you know this should not be happening, and yet you can’t look away. It’s years of deprivation, missing him and missing the two of you, but you just don’t want to look away from him.

You just want to look at him, admire him for the man that he’s turned into. Nothing more.

“I missed you,” he repeats, his voice almost like he’s begging. “So much.”

You don’t reply. You can’t really focus; your mind is foggy, clouded by all sorts of emotions tonight, and you know you should back off, act with respect. Because, at the end of the day, you do respect Frankie and his relationship with Andrea, and you respect Andrea just as much.

Every cell in your body screams at you to just back off, go back inside to your friends and celebrate alongside them. You swear you moved your feet in the desired direction. You start to feel warm again, warm all over, particularly your face.

Seconds later, you realize that is because there is warm breath all over your face, and your lips become swollen, reddened with a foreign, yet familiar and much needed touch.

Another few seconds later and you realize that Frankie’s lips are on yours, and his hand cups your cheek, pulling you in.

The worst of it is, you kiss him back. You kiss him back till you’re running out of air and Frankie’s breath is the sole source of air that you have. You kiss him back till you become fully aware of the implications, and then, before you can pull away, Frankie does it first.

He pulls away from you, his lips just as swollen and red as yours, and he stares at you in shock. Truthfully, you’re just as shocked, unable to utter a single word.

“I’m so sorry,” he coos, looking around in disbelief. “I am… so sorry. I shouldn’t have… I should go.”

You still don’t say anything. You simply stare at him, incapable to remove the feeling of his soft lips pressed hastily on yours.

He’s slowly backing away from you, eyes locked with yours, as he keeps muttering “I should go”. So he goes, leaving you half frozen on the porch, with a taste on your lips that nothing would ever wash away.

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310 notes · View notes

judas-redeemed · 5 months

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Hi 💐 I adore your poetry and I had a question. How would you suggest to improve poetry? I write and I've posted here as well but never received any proper feedback which I can use. Tips?

hello!!! this is so sweet, thank u for the support and i'm so honored u'd want my advice.

first of all, im gonna say poetry is a very individual thing, and what works for one person doesn't work for others. also, if u'd like me to critique specific works, i could probably be more thorough and i am so happy to do so, but that's obviously entitely up to u.

that being said, here's some things i've learned.

1. don't write what you think people will like, write what works in ur brain. this doesn't mean it has to be smth u have directly experienced, but more so an emphasis on having smth that matters to u more than smth u think others will care abt. i've found that my poems that have received the most love are the ones i thought "this is so niche and specific, i have no idea if anyone will relate to this or like this at all." as cheesy as it sounds, being honest in whatever way that works for u rlly is best

2. this is actually a rule i believe i heard abt comedy, but i find it rings very true of poetry as well: combine the specific w the broad. there are certain points of humanity i think are shown pretty much across the board. finding the very exact and nitty gritty feelings and thoughts and expressing that is usually what makes a great poem. to give an example, all of us are lonely sometimes. what makes writing abt it interesting could be writing smth like feeling lonely when u go to the grocery store, wishing u had someone to grab something from the top shelf for u and hold ur hand in the dairy aisle.

3. this is more personal preference, but i like the opening and closing lines to kinda form a circle. i don't know how to explain this exactly, but i like it all kinda come back to this point, not necessarily in words but more so in theme. i especially like when something's changed, and the same idea now has new nuance. a good example of this from my works would be in the world is ending. i began with the sentiment "there's nothing i can do about it" and ended with "it will be enough" both involve a lack of control, but where it began with helplessness, it ended with acceptance.

4. experiment!! try so many cool things!!! change up spacing and structures! try new words and phrases! use repitition! use long lines, use short phrases! the best way to find your specific writing niche is through trial and error.

5. similarly, in terms of gaining skill in writing poetry, quantity over quality. the best way to write a poem u love is to write a hundred u think are garbage. eventually u learn what works for u, but more than that, practice really does make perfect. or at least better. i started off writing the cringiest, most angsty and awful poems u can imagine. since u already have been writing and posting, u've already started this. but don't let urself get so frustrated u stop writing. writing is so beautiful and healing and wonderful. if u love it, keep it in ur heart forever and don't let it go.

this has already been so long so i think im gonna stop there. i hope this was helpful, i am by no means an expert and i am sure none of this is new advice. i bet ur writing is rlly cool!! and regardless, we all have smth worth saying, and im proud of u for saying it.

be warm and well fed

#judas talks #asks #on writing

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elisajdb · 5 months

Text

A Relaxing Bath

A gift for @songochiox based on her sweet art

Goku was tired when he came home. He wasn’t physically tired. He was mentally and emotionally burnt out. For three months, he has been on Beerus’ planet. It was exciting at the start, but now it felt like a boring routine. Train. Chores. Train. More chores for a new lesson that felt the same as the previous one. Without the chores, it reminded Goku of his time in Kami’s Temple with Mr. Popo and Kami. It wasn’t as lonely. Vegeta was here. He was a good sparring partner who kept him on his toes but Goku didn’t care for his company now.

He needed to feel the familiar breeze from Mount Paozu. He needed to see his animal neighbors. He needed to see his lovely wife cooking in the kitchen. He needed to see his sons. He needed to listen to Gohan explain about a book he didn’t understand. He needed to sit with Goten playing a video game he didn’t understand. He needed to play with his granddaughter.

He needed to go home.

And that’s what he did. He left Vegeta and Whis in the middle of a morning lesson and teleported to his dark bedroom on Earth.

Oops.

He forgot about the time difference between Beerus’ planet and Earth. The clock by the bed read 2:30 am and his wife was in a peaceful sleep. Goku slipped off his boots quietly, removed his gi and crept to bed. He pulled back the covers, climbed in and snuggled against Chichi’s sleeping form.

“Not tonight, Broly. I’m still exhausted from Vegeta.”

Goku’s eyes popped open. “What?”

It was too dark to see but Goku could feel Chichi’s body shaking in laughter. He wasn’t amused. “Not funny, Chichi.”

“Then why am I laughing? Ow,” she laughed in faux pain feeling Goku’s hand slapping her bottom. “What are you doing here anyway?” Chichi sleepily asked. “It’s almost three.”

Goku thought that was a strange question to ask. “I live here, Chichi. Why were you thinking of Broly?”

“I need some company while you are galivanting in space and Broly’s….”

“Cute?” Goku finished for Chichi.

“I was gonna say Broly, Vegeta and Piccolo are great company when you are away but Broly is cute.” Chichi expected Goku to make a comment saying that wasn’t funny and give her another playful slap on her backside before being smothered by his kisses with Goku showing Chichi she will never entertain Broly, Vegeta and Piccolo while he’s away but when Goku didn’t respond, Chichi reached for the lamp to turn it on and roll over to face her husband. He was frowning. He looked cute and she would tell him that if she didn’t know he was angry.

“Does it bother you I said that? I was kidding.”

“I know, but I don’t like it. I don’t like you think Broly’s cute.”

Chichi didn’t laugh but she did smile. I can’t believe he remembers that. It was over two years since Goku brought Broly home for a visit. He wanted to show the Saiyan what Earth was like since during his last visit, he nearly destroyed it in rage. Broly stayed with Goku and Chichi where she fed both men and was impressed with Broly’s appetite. It was bigger than Goku’s. He was also very naïve, more naïve than Goku. He asked Chichi many questions that amused her and listened intently to Goku and followed his words as he considered Goku more knowledgeable and experienced than him.

“I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“You never said Vegeta’s cute,” he accused her. “You never said anyone’s cute except me.”

Chichi could see a man and think he’s attractive but never openly say it. Saying one is attractive didn’t mean she wanted them. Her thoughts of Broly’s looks were a compliment and nothing more. “Maybe I thought he’s cute because he reminds me of you. He’s naïve and very strong and his eagerness to learn new things is cute and sweet like you when we married.”

That didn’t satisfy Goku. “You make it sound like I’m still not cute and sweet.”

“You are and you’ll always will be cute.” His pout was so cute. The way his brows furrowed was cute. She kissed him. “Don’t you believe me?”

“I do.” He really did and he never worried about Chichi’s faithfulness to him but he couldn’t explain why he was acting this way.

“You’re very wound up.” Chichi caressed his face. “Are you ready to tell me what happened on Beerus’ planet?”

Was that what was bothering him? Maybe it was.

“I’m fine.”

He didn’t look fine. He looked sullen. “You are early. You normally come home when it’s lunch or dinner and another month from now. Did Whis hit you with his stick again?” Goku shook his head. “Did Vegeta almost beat you?”

“No.” Goku laid his head against Chichi’s breasts. “I just wanna be home, Chichi.”

“You are home, Goku.” Chichi tenderly stroked Goku’s hair. “And….” she sniffed, “you need a shower.”

Goku opened his eyes. He raised his arm and smelled himself. “I don’t stink.”

Chichi grabbed Goku’s hand and pulled him out of bed with her. “Yes, you do.” She led Goku to the bathroom. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Goku sniffed himself again. “But I don’t stink.”

Chichi flipped on the bathroom lights. “Did you leave in the middle of training?”

“Yeah.”

“You stink.” Chichi turned on the shower. “And you climbed your dirty body in bed with me.” Chichi tutted and slapped Goku on his bottom. “Get undressed.”

Chichi accusing him of climbing in bed dirty should make her angry but Chichi smiled at him and the smack on his bottom felt playful. Was she in the mood? If she wanted it, Goku was ready to give it to her but something told him that wasn’t on Chichi’s mind. He pushed his boxers down his legs. “Ain’t you sleepy?”

Chichi was leaning over the bathtub as it filled with water. He saw her reaching for her special lavender bath oil only meant for her to use but it was clear she would be using it on him. “Not anymore.” She smiled at him. “Go clean up.”

“You don’t mind?” Goku knew how Chichi wanted her to sleep.

“I don’t mind.” She kissed him. “Take your shower and I’ll get the bath ready.”

Goku smiled as he knew Chichi understood. When he came home from Beerus’ planet or on a galactic space adventure with Vegeta, all Goku wanted was to be with Chichi. His first mornings home always had him and Chichi relaxing in the bath together with him sharing what he did apart from her and Chichi sharing what he missed with the family. He took his shower and rinsed off any dirt he accumulated during the morning spar. When he stepped out, the bathtub was filled with hot water and his lovely wife sat on the marble naked and rubbing lavender oil on her body.

“I’m done. Wanna smell me?”

“Maybe later.” Chichi rubbed oil on her hands, warming them before massaging the warm oil onto Goku’s back and shoulders. “How does that feel?”

“I hate it.” He laughed at Chichi’s playful smack on his bottom. Her nimble hands moved to his front massaging his chest. He missed these wonderous hands stroking him. He expected Chichi to go lower and grab a part of him that missed her terribly over the months but when she pulled away and said, “Let’s get in,” Goku turned to her expectantly.

“What is it, Goku?” Her voice was innocent but her eyes were playful. “Was I supposed to rub somewhere else?”

Oh, she knew and he knew that she knew. He’ll get her for that later when they are wrestling between the sheets and she’s begging for it, but for now, he will go along with Chichi’s playful mood. “Nothing.”

Chichi was going to get in first so she could lean against the tub and continue to massage Goku but Goku stopped her and got in first. “What are you up to?” Chichi got in and settled herself behind Goku.

Goku dipped his hands in the hot water before pouring some on Chichi’s back and shoulders. “Just wanna massage you like you massaged me.”

Chichi released a soft moan as Goku worked her shoulders and back with his strong fingers. Oh, she would pamper him with food and massages but Goku touched her, too. Days after Goku returned, Chichi would wake up to feel Goku snuggled up to her. Sometimes she would lie with Goku and talk as his hands touched her body. He never spoke. He listened to Chichi and touched her over and over. She never questioned why he did this. She knew it was something Goku needed to do after being away for so long.

“How was your training on Beerus’ planet?”

“Fine.”

Oh, that was a signal something was wrong. Training on Beerus’ planet was never fine. Goku had many thoughts about the training from complaining about the chores Whis made him do to sharing how excited he felt about his growth.

“How were things here?”

Goku’s question caught Chichi off guard. Most times he didn’t ask and assume things were fine while she informed him of what he missed. “Pan’s having her Kindergarten graduation in two weeks. Mark is hosting a big party for it. Videl’s trying to talk her father into something simple but you know how he is. I remember the party he had for Videl’s high school graduation. There were more of his friends than Videl’s. She remembered how her Dad used the party for a business thing. She doesn’t want the same for Pan.”

“How about Gohan and Goten?”

“Gohan has a big seminar he’s preparing for. Goten has a school dance.” Chichi laughed as she recalled Gohan’s first school dance. “I remember Gohan being so nervous about it with Videl. Goten is very calm about it. He’s happy to be going stag while Trunks is worried about having a date.”

Goten being in high school was surreal for Goku. “I can’t believe Goten’s in high school. I still remember him as this little boy so happy to have a Daddy.”

“Our little boy’s growing up.” Chichi was happy about it. She was even happier Goku was around to see it but something in Goku’s voice signaled to Chichi what might be troubling her husband. “What bothered you on Beerus’ planet?”

Chichi always knew when something bothered him; really bothered him. He couldn’t always hide it and when Chichi pressed him, he eventually gave in.

Your burden is my burden Chichi once told him. Share with me she’ll always say when she wanted Goku to unload on her emotionally.

“I don’t know. I was on Beerus’s planet for another lesson when I realized I had this lesson before. A lot of my lessons have been repetitive. I’ve been there for three months doing the same thing. I was getting bored.”

“It’s not the first time,” Chichi told him. “You always came back when you got bored. What’s different now?”

The fact it was getting to him and things were changing beyond his control. When Goku returned home after months away, Goten still looked like the child he first saw after he returned from being dead. Pan was a baby. Now after being away for months, Goten and Pan always looked different when he returned. They were growing up and apart from him. When he returned last time, Goten didn’t want to spar with him. He was into his video game. Pan wanted to train with him but it wasn’t the same.

“What’s going on with you, Chichi?”

He was deflecting. Chichi knew that but gave him what he wanted in hopes Goku will confess his troubles to her.

“I’ve taken on more responsibilities from Dad’s kingdom so you’re lucky you caught me home tonight. Tomorrow, I will be spending a few days at Dad’s kingdom.”

Chichi has been his constant support and the one thing in his life who hasn’t change. She has taken on more responsibilities of her father’s kingdom but when he returned home, she was there. When he needed her, she was there. Goku wanted to be there for Chichi.

“How is your Pops?”

“Better than last month. He’s listening to his doctors to slow down but Dad still thinks he’s that big, formidable Ox he used to be.”

Goku remembered that formidable Ox from his childhood. He was so big and intimidating but Goku didn’t let Gyumao’s size deter him. He’s always been strong. He was always there for Chichi, Gohan, and Goten when he wasn’t. Goku admired Gyumao but even Goku noticed Gyumao lost a step over the years. He’s gotten slimmer and lost a lot of muscle. He couldn’t pick up that massive ax of his. When Goku saw him during the last visit, Goku was taken aback at how much older he looked.

“I never thought your Dad would get old.”

“We all are except you and your Saiyan blood.” Chichi didn’t speak it out of jealousy or anger. It was acceptance. Oh, she worried about aging faster than Goku but Goku always showed her she was the one he will always want. It was also an unexpected ego boost to Chichi to walk with Goku by her side where eyes were envious of her catching a younger-looking man.

That unexpected envy also brought Chichi unexpected attention from younger men. She ignored and rejected their advances. It brought out laughs from Goku when he saw the men, and while Goku knew Chichi could handle them, sometimes he did step in when he felt a guy going too far with his pursuits.

“Dad is getting old and I want to be there for him.”

And Goku wanted to be there for Chichi. “I’ll come and stay with you.” Goku offered.

Chichi imagined Goku sitting in a meeting with her. Five minutes in and Goku will be spending his chair bored. “The meetings will be boring, Goku.”

“I can visit Aki when you have those meetings and then I can come home to you.” He rested his chin on Chichi’s wet shoulder and hugged her body to his. “I just wanna be where you are, Chichi. I just wanna be home.”

The softness in Goku’s voice caused Chichi to shift in the tub. She saw the sincerity in his eyes, smiled and rested against him. She understood what was troubling him. “Are you done?” Chichi asked hopeful. “I can’t expect you to stay home all day but…...” She knew Goku couldn’t. Not this Goku. The Goku before he learned his past could but not the one who embraced the blood of the Saiyan flowing in him.

Goku knew something will happen in the future to cause his departure. That’s how things seem to be but right now, he wanted to be home. “I just wanna be home with you… Gohan, Goten and Pan. I don’t want to miss any more moments.”

And Chichi wanted that, too. Oh, she didn’t like it when Goku left to train on Beerus’ planet or that short stint he was part of the Galactic Patrol but she knew that’s what Goku wanted and needed. He wouldn’t be happy if forced to stay home all the time when there’s a chance for him to get stronger and be the best warrior he can be. Chichi knew she had to let Goku leave and come home on his terms. As much as she hated to see him leave, Chichi knew Goku’ll always come back to her.

Content, Chichi relaxed in her husband's arms; happy his adventures were over for the foreseeable future; happy Goku wanted to stay home with her and their family. “Welcome home, Goku.”

#goku #chichi #dragonball #dragonball z #fanfiction #gochi #Story based on art

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innytoes · 9 months

Text

More Dark Fantasy AU because when have I ever left well enough alone and @jmrothwell made me the prettiest moodboard.

-Rose's great grandmother was a changeling. Her great great grandparents went to the fair folk because they were having trouble conceiving a child and made a deal. They got their baby... only for it to be swapped with a changeling after a few months.

-They went to the fae like: um excuse me we want our child back. No we're not giving you this one, a deal's a deal. We gave you our heirloom music box to grow our family, it's not our fault you gave us two. You still have the music box so no refunds.

-That story had been passed down for generations and Ray always thought it was a sweet fairytale about found family and loving people even if they're not related by blood or a bit different. But nope, guess it was real.

-In true Molina fashion Ray is thus like: welp guess I have four new children now.

-Four very weird new children. At least Reggie is only a little bit out of time, but he's had to stop Luke from getting run over by a car at least four times already.

-Alex came from the 1920s and was promised a life where he could be himself, be as gay as he wanted, and dance the night away.

-Years and years of non-stop dancing, his feet moving against his will, was a very harsh lesson to learn about not making deals with the fae.

-The boys can all go invisible, but Julie can still see them.

-Victoria taking 3 minutes to freak out at the whole situations and shouting about demons while Willie tries to continue having a pleasant conversation with her and Reggie is like: hey, words hurt. ... And then she realises the stories her abuela told her and Rose were real and sets right to feeding these poor kids.

-Yes it takes some convincing that they can eat food here and still leave. Carlos demonstrates by eating and apple and prancing in and out of the door.

-Ray was pretty okay with his four new children. Getting the guys up to speed of Life on Earth In 2020 is... a bit hit and miss. Explaining the microwave to his new kids: great! They get it! They're so smart (especially when it comes to food). Forgetting to mention to take the tinfoil off the stuff Tía left in the fridge: less great! Especially because Willie is strangely enchanted by the fire extinguisher.

-They of course each have their own things they're excited about. Reggie is freaking out over the new Star Wars. Luke discovered Rock music. Alex is deep in a Britney Spears phase, and, to Julie's slight annoyance, a Dirty Candi phase.

-Willie is baffled and delighted by all kinds of odd things, and has fallen in love with waves. He tries to explain that it's kind of like home, without the bad parts: constant, the same, but ever-changing.

-Willie takes up surfing and Alex nearly swallows his tongue.

-Other human and earth things Willie is enchanted by: friendship bracelets, lava lamps, theramins, glittery gel pens, salt and vinegar chips, cats, and of course, skateboards.

-Out of all of his kids, Willie is definitely the one Ray worries the most about. The other boys are just out of time, but Willie has no reference for human culture or... anything.

-Like he doesn't understand that people crying or yelling or being in pain means they cannot do something because... well, that's just what Caleb expected. He doesn't understand that not everything needs to be a trade. He seems weirdly upset all days are the same length.

-Carlos made a sign that says 'it's been 0 days since Willie has done or said some freaky stuff'. The counter has never been higher than 1.

-Willie, staring straight into Ray's soul and is it just him or did his pupils and irises disappear to be replaced by an endless galaxy for just a moment: "The birds say you left a bag of groceries in your caw and your ice cream is melting."

-The ice cream is saved, the birds are fed some sunflower seeds, and Ray decides that Willie picking up language from the crows is not on the top of his list of priorities.

-Until the crows teach him to swear.

#julie and the phantoms #kidnapped by the fae au #I wrote a thing #I've only had creepy changeling willie who isn't entirely human anymore for 15 minutes #but if anything were to happen to him etc etc

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echos-girlfriend · 1 year

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Hi! Random request but, now that we have Echo Picky Eater confirmed, I was thinking maybe an echoxreader where the reader cooks something from their home planet/culture for Echo and he gives it a go? I really liked how in the end of s2e6 he did end up giving the drink(?) soup(?) a go despite being a bit dubious about it initially (: Hope you’ve had a good week!

Howdy!

Omg me and you have the same brain! I started writing a fic about him being a picky eater at 5:30 am!! (Which explains why you’re getting this so fast and I made minor adjustments based on your request) 🤍 Honestly I found it adorable that he’s a picky eater! Complete opposite of me lol. And when he cheered with that Wookiee my heart went brr💜 god he’s just too adorable! This is such a cute idea! Hope you like it anon!!💚💙

Good soup

Echo x reader

Master list

~_~_~_~

You cook a stew from your home planet for dinner. Echo’s a little apprehensive about trying it but he soon finds out why you like to cook it a lot

~_~_~_~

You threw all kinds of vegetables in the large pot on your stove. Dicing and slicing some meat and throwing in spices.

Echo watched in fear. He was petrified to find out what you were concocting in that kitchen.

He sat on your couch and scratched his other arm. You looked in to the front room to tell him dinner was almost done. He gave you a wide nervous smile.

“I’m s-sure it’ll be great Mesh’la”

You gave him a cheeky, sly smile. You knew he was one picky guy. He was just trying to be nice and kind.. like he always was. After a few more minutes the stew was finally finished.

“Echo!! Dinners ready!”

Echo came shuffling into the dining room of your apartment. He sniffed and crinkled his nose.

“Oh don’t be that way! I promise it’s good. I cook it all the time”

“Huff.. if you say so Cyare”

He took a seat at the table and you served him a bowl. He looked at it almost scared.

“Echo.. would it make you feel better if I fed it to you”

He rolled his eyes at you. You raised a spoonful to his face.

“Here comes the theta-class shuttle!”

He raised his hand to block your spoon. But you moved it and pushed the spoon into his mouth. He swallowed and looked at you.

“Wait. You cooked that?!”

“Um. Yes”

“Mesh’la it’s delicious!”

“Im glad you think so.. does this mean I have to spoon feed you all the new foods I cook?”

He glared at you as he continued to eat the soup.

“I think I’ll be just fine”

“Are you sure? It seemed like you liked it”

You giggled as his face turned completely red. He gave him a peck on the cheek.

“I’m glad you like it echo.. and I take it as a very high honor that you like my stew”

“I’m sorry im so picky. Ever since the wars been over and we haven’t been force fed that.. slop they serve on Kamino, I’ve been finding it hard to eat things other than what’s in cid’s parlor, mantell mix and ration bars.”

He looked away embarrassed.

“It’s ok my love. Getting used to new customs and things is hard.. I understand. I’m just glad you’re trying new things”

He gave you gentle and loving smile. You gave him one in return.

“Can I have another serving?”

~_~_~_~

No the title is not a reference to the Adam driver meme from ‘Girls’ 👀

#tbb echo #echo is a picky eater and it’s adorable #tbb echo x reader #tbb echo x you #echo #the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #clone force 99 #clone force 99 x reader

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gray-dun · 5 months

Text

TLDR: Some songs have a deeper meaning than most people think would be great if people could read between the lines and where more media literate. But I get it art is subjective and thinking is hard.

Also fuck the person that said "high school is the best time of your life".

OVER SHARING TIME. Trun back while you can

I've been thinking about Green Day because they are apparently relevant again...

The year is 2006

Months before the student council had asked for students to submit songs to be voted on. My friend group hummed and hawed about it for a few days, and we eventually decided that Float On by Modest Mouse was a good choice. We all went around to other friend groups and tried convinced a few people to go along with us.

The early to mid 2000's where bat shit crazy (although compared to the 2020's haha fuck...) it was the height of "the war on terror", and I feel lead vocalist Issac Brock summed it up perfectly that time in an interview.

"It was a completely conscious thing. I was just kind of fed up with how bad shit had been going, and how dark everything was, with bad news coming from everywhere. Our president George W. Bush is just a fucking daily dose of bad news! Then you've got the well-intentioned scientists telling us that everything is fucked. I just want to feel good for a day."

At the time, it felt like the song was saying "yeah shit sucks, but just keep pushing forward. You'll get there" and that resonated with our teen brains that were constantly bombarded with fear mongering, blatant racism, homophobic raving, and the looming economic recession. (So about the same as now I guess) Christ, I thought I was closeted and socially withdrawn now. Back then I was constantly told to my face I looked like a school shooter/drug dealer or asked (called) if I was gay (or other slurs of that nature) by "friends" and "family". Only for them to then turn face and day shit like "I should be more open about my feelings and talk more" or "you feel distant". Hmm I wonder why.

Anyway

Lo and behold the day the ballots were handed out Float On was there. However, so was Time of You're life by Green Day. That lunch we cast our votes and a sense of dread hung over our group as we sat around the lunch table. We all wondered if people knew that the full title of the track is Time of your life (Good Riddance) and what it was even about.

For those that don't know or are too young, the song is about the lead of Green Day masking his anger about an ex moving away and being a passive-aggressive man child about the whole situation.

The class of 06 graduation came, and I somehow received my diploma. As the ceremony wrapped they played us out to Time of your life (Good Riddance). My friends and I all gave each other a quick knowing cringed glance, and after the celebration we headed over to a friend house to play 3.5 ed D&D for the entire weekend before our last summer together.

Since that day I have never gone back to that high school, or spoken to the majority of the people i graduated with. I remember one of my friends at the time said "as you get older you'll miss them and the times we shared" and honestly... Good Riddance.

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canyouhearthelight · 5 months

Text

Nihilus Rex, Ch. 6: A Complication

So, Lash and Nils agree on everything, right? Right????

Except when Nils is being a complete dumbass and doesn't realize it.

This is the chapter where we start seeing actual existing 2017 classism, racism, and even just disparate treatment come into play.

Nils' perspective and beta-reading provided by @baelpenrose. Additional beta-reading by @writing-with-olive and @fandomized-insanity. Perspective from people of the global majority (read: non-white) provided by entirely too many people to name, but definitely look up 'decolonization' if you are curious.

Sometimes love is all that can save us

Sometimes love can kill a man

Yeah, sometimes love is a soft touch

Or a pistol in your hand

American Young, “Love Is War”

Lash

It had been a couple weeks since I last met with Nils in person. A nice chunk of money had been deposited in my account from something that looked reasonably authentic and was completely unrelated to Brayden in any way shape or form. Not the entire five grand, I noticed. Figured that he realized I was adding punitive damages and took his own cut. I could live with two fifty being taken if it got back my four grand and then some.

At the moment, I was sitting in my favorite spot on the bridge, thinking through my next commissions. Anime girls were doing me pretty solid at the moment, but eventually I’d have to tackle all the lean brunettes that were waiting in email-hell. The charity work was drying up a bit after Brayden screwed me over, so I needed to get all that sorted out, too…

My quiet moment was interrupted by a phone alert fed through my headphones. Then another. Gritting my teeth, I pulled out the offending device and braced myself to see messages from my parents about some vastly unimportant emergency. Instead, it was an unknown number messaging me. “Sorry. I didn’t want to startle you and make you fall.”

“It’s Nils, btw. Left side.”

I whipped my head around to see him standing on the embankment to my left, waving at me with his phone. I gestured for him to come closer so we could talk without shouting over the river. To my surprise, he came out onto the pylon and sat next to me without a trace of awkwardness.

“New phone?”

Nils blinked. “Right, no. Uh. Work phone. At a guess you know the drill.” He tilted his head at my phone and made a vague gesture. “By the way, you could have told me you wanted punitive damages instead of overstating what he took. I’d have understood.”

I shrugged. “Seemed pretty obvious. I mean, you figured it out and took your cut, looks like.” With my free hand, I waved at his leather ensemble. “Not like you need the money, clearly, Darth Lord Pizza Cutter.”

He made a coughing sound. “Dark Lord Pizza Cutter, or Darth Pizza Cutter, pick a metaphor. That’s great though, I’ll have to remember that one. And no, I don’t. I do this more for fun, the cut I took went to a charity I’m fond of.”

“Funding leather pants for dramatic bitches in second-world countries,” I nodded in mock-wisdom. “I see.”

“Medical debt relief, actually.” He looked like he was stopping himself from the reflexive correction about what a second-world country was after he realized I was saying it to fuck with him.

“That’s actually admirable,” I confessed, giving up the bit. “I don’t know how much two-fifty is going to do for it, but judging by what a busy bee you seem to be online, you’re probably nickel and diming them with donations at a solid pace.” After a pause, I nodded. “Yeah, I can see it. So what brings you to my bridge, Billy Goat Gruff?”

He shrugged. “Two fifty looks like nothing unless you know where to send it, but there’s a charity who buys up medical debt for pennies on the dollar. Anywhere from 80 to 100:1 ratios, then forgives it. Financial expert. Information is the best way to make an impact, knowing who to go to for the best effect, and network them all together.”

“Rolling Jubilee. I like it.”

“Sorry, though, you had an actual question. Uh. I wanted to talk to you again. You left me with a good question last time. How to make the world better. You’d want to eliminate poverty, but you’d also want to eliminate power structures that make it possible to consolidate power, and therefore money and monopolized resources, into one place, to prevent that cycle from starting over again. You’d need to start with fair access to food and housing, education. The same principle would keep people from just poisoning the world and getting away with it. I think you’d have to start by something to level the playing field for a revolution, maybe power grid or bank comms, not sure exactly how to do that, but thinking about it. Still workshopping it. What’s your idea of the ideal world, Lash?”

I hummed a bit, wobbling my head side to side and kicking my feet a couple times. “Prove it can be done without money. Barter economy, punishment for hoarding more than you need. Homelessness has to go, for sure - there are so many vampire and zombie properties, even commercial ones, that could be used better just keeping people housed. Take over an empty strip mall, start there. Comms are easier than we think, we’re just really spoiled with speed and access - did you know there are already communities in this country who built their own local wireless networks from the ground up and just include the maintenance in local taxes? We could do that, teach everyone how to maintain it so they are part of their own community. That’s a start. Then educate people - mandatory education. That would be the hard part. Not just math or grammar, but teaching ideas and critical thinking.” I chewed on my lip for a moment. “Critical thinking is definitely being outlawed, it feels.”

Nils wavered a hand. “In not-expensive schools, yeah. Which are increasingly being restricted on purpose. Mandatory equal education, especially. Right now there’s a real effort to make a two-tier system. One of defunded, shit-tier schools for poor kids and kids of color to turn them into obedient little drones, and one for rich white kids like yours truly to turn them into future statesmen, CEOs, generals, doctors, lawyers. No real respect for where we’re gonna get all the stuff in the middle that society collapses without, ironically, but then the people who design capitalism never seem to think long term. Your thought is probably the right one, but you’d need to ensure that it isn’t based in purely local resources, or if you did, ensure that those resources were distributed more equitably before the localized systems started.”

“As one of said brown children, can confirm,” I sighed. “My parents worked like hell to get me into a ‘good’ school, and trust me, it isn’t much better. Critical thinking in terms of thinking critically of people who are different. At least when I went to a ‘shit-tier’ school, you learned that almost everyone is one paycheck or generation from being poor, and everyone’s brown when you’re dirty.” I winced at how bitter I sounded. “Sorry. It’s a sore spot. So, add first aid to basic medical training as part of education. No offense, but fuck CEOs and statesmen. If we never had another one in the history of the world, or had never had one to begin with, I think we would be in a better place.”

“You and I find ourselves entirely in agreement.” There was a smile on his face like he was laughing at a private joke. “I do think people should also learn basic cooking, basic home repair. As part of education.” He glanced over the city. “It’s nice, being able to talk to a friend like this.”

“Oh, so we’re friends now?” I clutched a hand to my chest in pretend astonishment. “Sir, you move far too quickly.”

Nils gave a little smile. “Oh, apologies for being so forward, my dear,” his affect abruptly matched my own. “But I so rarely find conversation so stimulating, and if you do I would ask you to tell me where on earth you spend your time.”

I laughed at how ridiculous he was being. It was charming, but in a way that showed he clearly wasn’t being too serious about it. “Online, mostly. Physically, I’m here or at home, or at this awful coffee shop about six blocks that way…” I gestured in the direction toward where we had met last time. “Beyond that? Trying desperately not to cook, since you said something about reinstituting mandatory Home Ec. My cooking would kill you.”

“Because I’m white and you’re…okay forgive me, is your family Indian or Pakistani?”

“Because my cooking is just that bad. Seriously. I am the bane of every well meaning mother and auntie in the world. They collectively meet and despair of how horrible a wife I will be one day.” After a deep breath, I gave in. “And I’m both. Baba is Goan - that’s Indian - Mama is Pakistani. Dishonor on their houses, their cows, all that.”

“Doesn’t that depend on whether you get married and have kids? Like in general.” Then he cycled back. “Also, apologies if it was a rude question. If I ever met your family I wanted to look up stuff and be respectful.”

I snorted. “That’s because you are white. Daughters of immigrants are expected to marry and have children. We are either terrible wives because we did and were horrible at it, or terrible wives because we couldn’t even get a husband. And god willing, you will never meet my family. Not because of you, because I am such a disgrace and you will either be expected to marry me and save me from myself or be considered a disgrace by proxy. If you ever run into me when I am with them, I hope you are very good at telling people you are gay.”

“Half time, friend. Half-time gay already. Also, everyone already thinks I’m a disgrace. No need to use it to make your life worse.” He seemed willing to change the subject. “Oh, I promised to tell you about my project. Did a bit of homework you assigned me. So, you know those QAnon assholes who kicked the shit out of me the first day we met?”

“The brother-uncle-cousins with more muscles than brains and signs?”

“Yes, the ones that think the world is ruled by Jewish space lizards, those charmers. The ones who think you immigrants are coming to literally fuck white people out of existence and bring all of us backwards evolution-wise on orders of a blood drinking Jewish cabal. Those people. Anyway. I’ve been taking advantage of a very specific flaw of conspiracist thinking, which is the desperate need to think you understand the next mystery. Tell them it’s even bigger than they think even more complicated than they thought, and wrap that into what they already thought - there’s not ONE complicated evil cabal that rules the world, there’s like FOUR, and they all fight each other, all our politics is a complicated proxy war between all of these secret shadow governments. Muhahahah. They eat that shit up. Especially if you imply that two of those groups are loosely on the side of the common people and have formed a temporary alliance, and might be looking for recruits among their crowd.”

I blinked while I processed all of the absolute crazy that had just come out of his mouth. “You are… giving them more targets, or fewer?”

“Both. Focusing their insanity in a direction that is actually useful to their fellow human beings for once. If I can’t get them to be less crazy - and unfortunately that seems inoperable given that subculture - I can direct the inevitable stochastic terrorism towards, say, attacking banks and burning debt records. In the name of preventing the evil shadow government from controlling innocent people through debt. Written off as an attack by insane conspiracy theorist, innocent people get relief, it is left untraceable to us. And corporate eats the loss.”

“And you are stopping them from taking pot shots at the minorities who are theoretically a part of these cabals how, exactly?” I waved a hand to cut him off from answering too quickly. “I get that you are redirecting them, but when you redirect something, you have to also cut it off from its original goal. How are you doing that part?”

“The ones who work for the banks, the cops, or in public office? Nah. Fuck ‘em. But the white people in those offices are fucked too, the way I’m working it. Cutting shit off is…complicated. Multi step. So, right now they’re under the impression that the one group of bad guys they initially believed in rules the government, right? They also believe, or are starting to - that the average activist is a proxy for a different thing entirely, which do not like the bad guys who run the government for one set of reasons. I have them believing that their “hero” Q, is part of a different, third group, who ALSO does not like the bad guys who run the government, who are all rich and powerful people, and that the reason people do not like the guys who run the government tends to vary. The important thing is its a shadow government and most people don’t know anything about it.”

“So, you’re playing three dimensional chess with people who believe whatever they are told that makes them feel important. Got it. And you’ve already set this into motion?”

“Haven’t started implying orders yet. But started just kinda. Movin’ em towards “there’s three groups, stop hate criming people, most people aren’t even part of this.”

I felt a solid mass form in the pit of my stomach, and my heart sank. “So yes, you’ve already put this into motion, intentionally or not, with no checks or any way to keep the next idiot on a power trip from turning them another direction.” I stood up and dusted off my clothes, holding my hand out. “Come on. Time to buy you some actual coffee, because this is going to be a very long conversation.”

Nils winced and stood up.

“Marry a white boy, she keeps saying,” I muttered. “Trying to save my ass from well meaning white people and she wants me to marry one. PAH!”

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