#ill write the whole song later when i have the inspiration

[cuddlepilefics]

Hi, it's me who wrote salembutnotthecat about writing a sickfic for The Rose fandom. So, my prompt is: Woosung getting carsick when going home after working the whole day recording a song in the studio. He decided to take a taxi to go home (Inspired by the actual situation when he got drank, took a taxi and had to stop it as soon as arriving on the Hannam Bridge. He got off and threw up everywhere.) but this time he gets sick not because of drinking but maybe he ate something wrong or got a fever. He gets too exhausted to drive so he takes a taxi instead... I just have this idea but you can alter the details in any way that is comfortable for you to write! If you haven't listened to The Rose yet, please give them a listen. They're amazing! Thank you so much. :)

Hannam Bridge

Prompts: Motion sick + professionalism failure + visibly ill + totally drained @monthofsick

TW: emeto, real person fiction

I have listened to The Rose and so far, my favorite song is "Sorry", "Red" following close on #2

Fandom: The Rose

Sickie: Woosung

No one’s POV.:

Woosung had already been exhausted when his alarm went off that morning. It felt like he hadn’t slept a wink but he knew that he had a full day ahead of him and couldn’t afford to roll over once more. His head throbbed when he set up, making him wince. Maybe a nice, hot morning coffee would ease his headache though it might not be the best idea to have one, considering he had to record a new song today. Woosung didn’t really feel hungry for breakfast, so he only got himself a cup of coffee, sleepily sipping the hot drink as he read over the lyrics on his phone. Before heading out, he knocked back a painkiller to soothe his headache, knowing he wasn’t supposed to take it on an empty stomach but he couldn’t bring himself to eat anything.

It was a decision, Woosung soon came to regret. His stomach was in knots but at least, the headache had improved a little. He’d spent the next few hours practicing the song and record it after lunch, so he could still hope his stomach would settle down till then because right now, there was no way the microphone wouldn’t pick up the rumbles. The other members all had their individual schedules today, which was usually fine but right now, Woosung wished he wouldn’t be alone but that couldn’t be helped. At least, Dojoon had texted, asking if they wanted to grab lunch together, since they both had their breaks scheduled at the same time. Woosung couldn’t imagine forcing any food into his stomach but maybe that was exactly what he needed to do to help it settle if the problem was coffee and medicine on an empty stomach.

By the time lunchtime rolled around, Woosung felt defeated. He didn’t like the way his voice sounded on the new song and didn’t know how he was going to record it later but decided that was a problem for his future-self to figure out. Dojoon frowned when the other plopped into the seat opposite him. “You good?”, he asked the leader, who tiredly rested his aching head in his hands. Woosung nodded but admitted: “Tired as hell and I have a headache.” – “Mhm, you’re pretty pale”, Dojoon commented. In his opinion, his friend looked visibly sick but he didn’t want to call him out. “Drank some coffee and had some pain meds this morning on an empty stomach, so it’s been a little unsettled all morning”, the older sighed, his stomach growling as if in confirmation, “I’ll just order some plain rice to calm it down and repent for my coffee-sin.” That made Dojoon laugh and although he felt so unwell, Woosung was glad he had gone out for lunch.

The rice had done little to settled the singer’s stomach, sitting heavily as he made his way to the studio. After getting set up, Woosung put on his headphones and winced at the pressure they applied on his head. Had the booth always been this stuffy? No matter how uncomfortable it was, he reminded himself to act professional and tried his hardest to do well as they started to record but it was hard. Every inhalation threatened to make his stomach cramp up and with his shallow breathing, his voice came out flat and forced. “Stop straining, your voice sounds forced”, came the producers voice over the speaker. Woosung nodded and gave a thumbs-up to show he had understood the instructions. That didn’t mean he’d manage to change anything about it though.

Somehow, today didn’t seem to be his day, Woosung acknowledged when the producer asked what was up because he usually did so much better. They agreed to take a five minute break during which he sipped some water and tried to quieten his racing mind screaming at him to be more professional. His hands trembled when he got behind the mic once again, the pressure mounting to do better. Woosung started to sweat but he didn’t know whether it was the stress or the lack of ventilation in the recording booth, that was already making him feel a little lightheaded.

Hours later, Woosung was finally done. No, he wasn’t satisfied at all with the way it had turned out but his throat hurt and his head throbbed, so he knew it wouldn’t get any better if they kept at it longer. Besides, he felt guilty for how long he was keeping the producer just because he couldn’t get his lines right. He had completely failed at being professional. The producer didn’t seem to be all that upset though, far more understanding than Woosung would’ve expected. While he packed up his belongings, the other even went to get him some tea from the break room, telling him to get home safely.

Too tired to drive himself home, Woosung called for a taxi and sat outside, sipping his tea. Getting some fresh air seemed to help temporarily and he weakly collapsed into the backseat, voice scratchy as he told the driver the address. If Woosung had felt like the recording booth had been stuffy, the car was a wholly different level. Within only a couple of minutes, he was sweating buckets, his stomach churning with every turn of the road. Of course, getting carsick would be the cherry on top of his already shitty day. Dreading the weird, fluttery feeling in his stomach, Woosung clutched his empty paper cup. He hoped he’d make it home without getting sick to his stomach, his throat already sore from singing all day.

They had just pulled onto Hannam bridge when Woosung’s stomach took a turn for the worse and he begged the driver to pull over, already gagging over the paper cup in his hand. For a moment, he got caught in his seatbelt as he tried to get out of the taxi but managed to free himself before pitching forward, the tea he had just finished splattering onto the pavement. Stumbling to the side of the bridge, Woosung clutched the railing and tried to brace himself against the dizziness. The next heave had him bent at the waist, acid burning his throat. His heart was racing as he retched up another bitter wave and struggled to inhale afterwards, his stomach immediately lurching again.

Woosung was glad that his hood had slipped forward over the upper half of his face when he had first bent over. Hopefully it’d conceal his identity because the thought of fans recognizing and watching him in such a pitiful state was enough to make his stomach turn. On the list of things he had hoped to never have to experience, getting sick in public was pretty far up. At least, it was already dark, so he could convince himself of his anonymity. That was the only comfort he found as his throat strained with dry heaves, body too exhausted to get anything else up.

Even when the heaves slowly tapered off, Woosung couldn’t bring himself to let go of the hand rail, his head spinning as his heart kept beating out of his chest. It was hard to imagine getting back into the stuffy taxi but he knew he didn’t really have a choice, since he didn’t want to waste the driver’s time and also because he truly wanted to curl up in his bed and be miserable in the privacy of his room. Staggering back to the taxi, Woosung gulped and forced in a shaky breath.

When he plopped back into his seat, he found a plastic bag and a bottle of water there, the driver sympathetically offering him a mint, which he gladly accepted, the taste on his tongue keeping the nausea at an all time high. Woosung dropped his head in his hands, totally drained. He could feel his blood pulsing in his head and it was only now, that he noticed how his cheeks had become damp with tears. His flushed cheeks felt hot against his hands and by now, he was pretty certain that he was running a temperature. There was no way his day could go so wrong if he wasn’t sick.

Woosung didn’t have the energy to check though, already glad that he managed to drag himself from the taxi to the safety of his own bathroom, where he promptly found himself retching up a mouthful of bile from the exertion of having to get upstairs. Merely rinsing his mouth and using some mouthwash, Woosung splashed some cold water on his feverishly flushed skin before stumbling to his room and crashing on his bed. In his haze, he only just remembered typing a message to their manager. The words barely coherent and with lots of typos, it was obvious how miserable he felt, already falling asleep with his phone in his hand as soon as he had hit sent.

#fanfic #fanfiction #sickfic #sick #emeto #tw emeto #tw rpf #novemetober #the rose

[seeingivy]

Do you draw inspiration from.your own life (events, emotions...) to write ?

HEAVILY!!!!

I think this is something I do specifically for my longer form fics...the one shot tend to be more of the sporadic, cute scenarios I imagine while I go to sleep. but longer form fics are where I really start digging into my own life and putting my own thoughts/feelings into it

a few examples:

roommate eren: actually doesn't really apply, because that was so early into my writing.

method acting eren: (gets bullet points)

eren as a character and y/n as characters I feel have parts of myself that I often feel like are at war with in my own head lol (which is why they have conflict!!)

y/n gets swayed by people around her so quickly and cares about what people think - a little too much. eren is also just deeply self destructive at times and so in his own head that he can't see what's in front of him at all. those two things combined are not a pretty combo, which is why x y and z happens in method acting.

historia's whole being jealous of y/n arc is based of me in real life!!! struggle with real life comparisons so hard and it can be something that is so obsessive for me. when the song lacy came out, it was the first time I really felt seen in the way that wanting to be like someone else so bad can be so all consuming that I wanted to kind of include that in the fic, esp how it pertains to female friendships (will say, all the reception I got about that character and that friendship soothed a lot of rough spots in my heart about that so I appreciate you all)

lana's struggles with love - particulary the part that she has bad relationships of love modeled to her, hence why she originally puts up with ricky in the first place is also based on me (guys this fic is so self indulgent please leave me alone ok) and I haven't reached the whole self actualized love part but i'll get there! (thank you for all the love on the lana character I could cry if I thought about it)

also a bit more deep, but a lot of criticism that I got about the fic (esp after the whole reveal of why eren did what he did) was like "oh he could have just told her" "I don't get why he didn't" was kind of meant to be a more subtle thing of how when you love someone who is struggling with mental illness/bad environments (which at that point he was in a kind of abusive relationship with his producer so), it's often that the way that they cope or react as a byproduct is sometimes something that doesn't make sense/isn't logical - and is no way that something to put up with (which is literally why she doesn't), but it's also why eren is more logical and rational when he gets help. you can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped (which at that point he didn't want to) and they need to put their own work in (which eren obv does after everything that happens)

^^ (this is based on relationships that i've had in my own life but also feeling put in that position of doing things that weren't rational and didn't make sense that hurt people and later realizing when I put the work in what a lot of that actually was and trying to have grace with it)

kind of random, but I always imagine method acting sasha as poc. I didn't want to say it explicit so people didn't start beefing with me about x y and z, but that's why she doesn't get the same treatment as y/n or mikasa. (not saying that y/n is white or fits beauty standards, but she's a self insert so I can't exactly assign her a race so the same point can't be made). but for the sasha character, it's kind of those feelings that poc/darker skinned girls get of not being the person anyone is interested in, the girl who is always funny and never pretty, super motherly but never the girl anyone has a crush on. anyways. (sincerely the token mom friend in highschool!!!)

best friends older brother sukuna:

so like. ive never talked to my best friends older brother. he is thirty. and he's also married to a sweetie pie.

THAT BEING SAID

a big part of that fic is obviously intimacy - but more the fact that there's a lot of depth to intimacy beyond sex - especially for people who have bad first experiences and how they kind of have to grapple with that afterwards (I will not elaborate on how I relate to this. connect dots.)

AND ALSO. sibling relationships is a big part of that fic. I have two older siblings (and the fic also has two older siblings). the relationships that I have with both of them are so dynamically different - in terms of good sibling/bad sibling (if that's even a thing, which the point is kind of that it's more complicated than that) and also younger/older dynamics

^^I won't elaborate more on that but just know in that fic that i've had my fair share of sammy and my fair share of sukuna - but also had my moments where i'm immature and not fair like y/n and yuuji. so.

thanks for this ask it was so fun!!! so sorry I yapped....and overshared.....

#asks! #method acting #bsfs older brother sukuna! #I LOVE U POOKIE thanks for picking at my brain #there are typos #I am too lazy to fix them I just wanted to yap

[f4er-ie]

˚➶ ｡˚ ☁️ taylor swift legacy challenge (swiftacy) for sims 3

hii! in this post i am gonna be sharing my legacy challenge i created using a simcord member’s taylor swift legacy for ts3 as a base. (credit to sugar!) this also takes inspiration from some sims 4 swiftacys. i hope you have fun with this if you try it! tag me in your gameplay screenies :3 ill be posting some of mine soon!

rules under the cut!

complete the given lifetime wish every generation

each goal must be met before the next heir takes over

♡ generation 1 - debut

colors: blue, green

world: any country-ish town, appaloosa plains

traits:  childish, ambitious, virtuoso, loves the outdoors, over-emotional

career: music

LTW: rock star

hobby: guitar

requirements:  

live in the same town your whole life

frequently play guitar for tips

have an unrequited love with someone in a relationship before moving on and having a fairy-tale romance with your soulmate

master guitar and charisma skill

♡ generation 2 - fearless

colors: gold, white

world: same town as gen 1

traits: equestrian, good, excitable, artistic, easily impressed

career: self-employed painter

LTW: master of the arts

hobby: painting

requirements:  

meet a sim in your teen years that you have an on-and-off relationship into adulthood with—break up twice before eventually getting married

have a close relationship with all your family members 

have a best friend from adolescence till death

have at least one horse (preferably white)

♡ generation 3 - speak now

colors: purple, pink

world: any, hidden springs

traits:  clumsy, hot-headed, bookworm, avant-garde, ambitious

career: journalist or self-employed writer

LTW: professional author

hobby: writing

requirements:  

must write 14 books, each named after a speak now song

date a least one person in the adult life stage during the first half of your young adulthood

fall in love with your best friend and convince them to leave their partner for you, eventually marry your best friend turned lover

specialize in writing romance novels

master the writing skill

♡ generation 4 - red

colors: red, black

world: starlight shores

traits: party animal, irresistible, diva, schmoozer, natural born performer

career: singer

LTW: vocal legend

hobby: social networking 

requirements:  

must experience a very bad break up with a kleptomaniac partner (where’d that red scarf go?)

date at least one celebrity at some point in your life

consistently throw parties with your closest friends

master singing and social networking skill

♡ generation 5 - 1989

colors: beige, dark lilac/blue

world: any city world, bridgeport

traits: star quality, charismatic, social butterfly, photographer’s eye, great kisser

career: actor

LTW: superstar actor

hobby: photography

requirements:

must have a close group of friends that you meet as a young adult (5+)

take photographs (polaroids) of your life and hang them around your room

have at least 3 failed relationships before finding the one

have one close friend in your teenage years that later becomes your enemy when you’re a young adult 

master photography and charisma skill

♡ generation 6 - reputation

colors: black/gray, dark green

world: any

traits: loner, kleptomaniac, hates the outdoors, brooding, brave

career: criminal

LTW: master thief

hobby: athletic 

requirements:

have at least 3 enemies and no more than 2 close friends

have 3 consistent affairs before leaving your partner and settling down with the third affair 

must steal something of value + a car from your ex partner

master athletic skill

♡ generation 7 - lover

colors: pastel pink, yellow, & blue

world: any tropical world

traits: excitable, friendly, family-orientated, hopeless romantic, cat person

career: education

LTW: surrounded by family

hobby: cooking/baking

requirements:

must have at least one cat 

partake in protests when possible 

always wear colorful clothing & makeup

be popular as a teenager in high school (have 5+ friends, have a significant other, join an after school activity, and attend every school dance)

break up with your high school sweetheart when you’re a young adult and find your soulmate while on a vacation—elope with them once you return to your hometown

♡ generation 8 - folklore

colors: light gray, mossy green

world: any woodsy world, moonlight falls

traits: green thumb, perfectionist, unlucky, gatherer, adventurous

career: self-employed gardener

LTW: the perfect garden

hobby: gardening

requirements:

live in a secluded, woodland area

must be in a love triangle as a teenager

reunite with an old friend from childhood as a young adult

master gardening skill

optional: become a witch as a young adult

♡ generation 9 - evermore

colors: brown, orange

world: any, riverview

traits: commitment issues, genius, loves the cold, rebellious, neurotic

career: law enforcement

LTW: forensic specialist: dynamic DNA profiler

hobby: logic

requirements:

have a close relationship with your grandparents

kill a friend’s spouse in retaliation for your friend’s murder

reunite with an ex partner from your teen years & marry them

have an ongoing affair during your marriage and end up with an affair baby—swear that it’s your spouse’s child for the rest of your life (this child will be the heir)

master logic skill

♡ generation 10 - midnights

colors: lavender, dark blue, gold

world: any

traits: workaholic, cat person, night owl, perceptive, dramatic

career: fortune teller

LTW: celebrity psychic 

hobby: mixology

requirements:

have a cat named karma

wait until you are halfway through adulthood to get married

write a single book about your family’s legacy

as an adult, discover generation 9’s infidelity and meet your other biological parent in secret

own a bar & name it after a song on midnights

master mixology

optional: frequently travel to france

: ̗̀➛  if for some reason you prefer to have the rules on a google doc, here's the link to that

thanks for reading!

#sims3 #s3 #sims 3 challenge #sims 3 legacy #legacy challenge #taylor swift #taylor swift legacy #sims 3 taylor swift legacy #sims 3 #sims 3 gameplay #ts3

[arcielee]

Interview With a Writer

Thank you so much @inthedayswhenlandswerefew​ for allowing me to pick your brain again, and giving us a glimpse into your process for your amazing stories. 💜  

This series is near and dear to my heart, completely self-indulgent, but I am glad others are enjoying it too. You can look over the masterlist to see the other amazing authors I have spoken with; this series is just a BTS of some of the talented minds on Tumblr and ao3.     

Name: inthedayswhenlandswerefew

Story: Now I’m Covered in You

Paring: HotD/War of the Roses AU Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Rating/Warning: Language, sexual content (18+), dubious consent, miscarriage, pregnancy, childbirth, violence, warfare, murder, alcoholism, sexism, infidelity, illness, death, only vaguely historically accurate, lots of horses!

Where did the plot for Now I’m Covered in You come from?  I’ve always, always, always loved British history. I’ve read countless books (mostly nonfiction, some fiction) about it and when I studied abroad in college, out of a hundred possible locations I chose to go to the United Kingdom. London is still my favorite place on Earth and I would love to live there someday. It’s truly where I feel like I belong. NICIY is definitely inspired by my love of British history (especially Renaissance-era) as well as two phenomenal television series: The Tudors and The White Queen.

I had the idea for NICIY but was still warring with it—I desperately wanted it to just go away so my life could be nice and simple, haha!—when I was driving to work listening to my Spotify playlist. I have a long commute, about 40 minutes, so I listen to a LOT of Spotify. And Taylor Swift’s song Ivy came on and I was like…about to drive off the road it hit me so hard. It struck every chord of this story and made it louder, unignorable. The forbidden pining. The wintery, mournful, timeless quality. The idea of someone growing over you and through you, like ivy, and turning you into a whole new version of yourself. And ivy (the plant) is indomitable, it’s very difficult to get rid of and it ends up destroying a lot of other foliage. The love that Aemond and Ivy share is like that, but Ivy herself is too. She’s adaptive, resilient, and…under the right circumstances…a bit ruthless. She was always going to survive. What is your planning process? How do you know the steps that need to unfold? I really adore foreshadowing. But I have to be careful because there are a few people (like @aemcndtargaryen​) who have this superpower where they seem to be able to latch onto EVERY little hint. So I'm always working on perfecting that balance between foreshadowing and being the right amount of mysterious!

My planning process always starts with a chapter list. For each chapter—starting with the last few and then looping back to the first one—I give it a name and a few key words to remind myself of which major events go where. Then as phrases, scenes, and conversations occur to me, I write them non-chronologically. 

For example, one of the first parts of NICIY that I wrote was the miscarriage in Chapter 3 and the disjointed exchanges between Aemond and Ivy as she’s floating in and out of consciousness. I fill in the gaps when it’s time to publish each chapter. I think this helps me maintain a consistent thread of foreshadowing that runs throughout the story because when there’s a certain metaphor or phrase that I like, I’ll go ahead and drop it into every chapter where I think it’ll end up fitting, and then tweak it later if necessary. 

But honestly, there are a lot of aspects of writing that I still can’t really explain. Sometimes a phrase will pop into my head and I’m thinking “what??” and then, weeks later, I finally see how it fits in the design. It’s all rather mystical in a neat sort of way. Explain your interpretation of Aemond. What drives him? Why is he the way he is in NICIY? NICIY Aemond is, to me, a mirror image of canon Aemond and also the version of Aemond that appeared in my first HOTD fic, Have You No Idea That You’re In Deep? 

He’s a bit more sensitive, reserved, emotionally intelligent, merciful, and of course poetic. Sir Criston tells Ivy in Chapter 9 that Aemond had changed for the better since she arrived in England, and that is what allows him and Ivy to get their happy ending. NICIY Aemond is affected by his past, but he’s not ruled by it. He is ultimately motivated by the future—by the possibility of having a family with Ivy, and the need for England to be stable in order for that to happen—rather than retribution for past wrongs. So he tends to be less reckless and more forgiving. He does lose his temper at times, he’s still human (and watching your brother be married to the woman you love is stressful), but he tends to be able to move past that wrath quickly and shift to something more productive, for example strategizing or comforting.

However, it must be said: Aemond is rather unhinged when it comes to Ivy, like he behaves in a way that is borderline obsessive. I think that’s a natural consequence of someone who does not connect with 99% of humans finally feeling like he’s found a perfect match that he never believed would exist. But Aemond cares greatly for Ivy’s wellbeing and respects her autonomy/preferences, so it’s a partnership that works.

Was his poem to Ivy a Maggie original? So my main writing medium is fiction, but I do occasionally write poems. I don’t feel especially comfortable with poetry but every once in a while the inspiration strikes and I’ll write like five in a week, and then none for months at a time. They usually fit with one of my stories rather than as standalone pieces, for example the way that “Ivy” only occurred to me because it was an aspect of NICIY. It’s an unapologetically deranged poem, especially in the way that Aemond uses it—he confesses love that he can’t bear to express out loud and then runs away to hide in the chapel—but the sentiment is heartwarming, I think.

What was the inspiration for Ivy?  I spent a lot of time thinking about the values that were instilled in royal women of this time period (1400s) and how different personalities would cope with those pressures. Ivy is (generally) a dutiful wife and does genuinely want to be the mother of a large family, but she’s also more scrappy than a typical princess. I think this has a lot to do with her upbringing. 

Ivy is from Navarre, which was a relatively small and undistinguished kingdom, and we have hints that her family life was a lot less stifling and formal than Nico’s, Kunigunde’s, or Alicent’s. She did a lot of rough-and-tumble activities like sparring and horseback riding, and seems to have genuinely warm relationships with her parents and siblings (Alonzo!!! 😍). She has an innate willfulness and ferocity that Aemond is mesmerized by.

He was instantly attracted to her when she arrived in London—hence being too shy to interact with her—and then when he saw how bravely she handled challenges (Aegon, Daemon, the miscarriages, court gossip) he fell absolutely madly in love with her. Aemond values nothing more than strength in the face of adversity, and he desired AND respected Ivy in a way that transcended anything he’d felt before.

Aemond and Ivy’s first interaction in Chapter 1 is this odd moment because for Ivy, it seems random and confusing (although welcomed), but for Aemond it’s this culmination of a year of all-consuming clandestine longing. Aemond finally talking to Ivy is sort of by chance—he runs into her and is caught off-guard, therefore he hesitates too long to excuse himself gracefully—but he’s also pushed into it by how much she’s suffered in England up until that point. He genuinely feels tremendously sorry for her and feels that she deserves better…and he also feels a drive to protect her from further harm. Aemond wants Ivy to be happy, and that eventually overpowers his paralyzing shyness.

Why do you feel Ivy complements Aemond well? Ivy and Aemond complement each other wonderfully. She is amazed by him—his competence, his beauty—and gives him the tender, protective, unconditional sort of love that he has always craved. Ivy is also not disturbed by Aemond’s disfigurement and has difficulty understanding why Miss Kuni has such trepidation about it in Chapter 6. Ivy can understand the trauma that Aemond carries because she has suffered similarly—in both her miscarriages and in her marriage to Aegon—but she does not consider him limited by it. 

They are equally dutiful yet passionate, and have the capacity to be both extraordinarily gentle and selectively ruthless. They are a bit of a power couple, and accomplish more together than either could separately.

What was the inspiration for the character creation of Kunigunde? Kunigunde—who I always refer to fondly as Miss Kuni, it’s cute but also proper in a way that I think suits her—is the perfect Renaissance-era princess. 

She’s wealthy, she’s honorable, she’s loyal, she’s beautiful, she’s clever, she’s sporty, she’s confident, she’s all the Spice Girls rolled into one. But Aemond feels absolutely nothing for her. This is a manifestation of the fact that Aemond is truly changed by Ivy at this point, and that she has covered him; the old Aemond never would have dreaded a match that was THIS advantageous to the Greens, nor spurned a bride that is supposedly everything he’s always wanted. 

Furthermore, Aemond’s prior sexual experiences (with the exception of Ivy and the Bearskin Rug Incident™️) were not what we would consider to be consensual, and the trauma that he carries from that adds another layer to his inability to be intimate with Miss Kuni, someone that he not only doesn’t have feelings for, but also cannot touch without feeling that he’s betraying Ivy.

Miss Kuni does her absolute best in a terrible situation and demonstrates steadfast loyalty to Aemond and the Greens. This is in part because honor demands it, but it’s also because her upbringing was very different from Ivy’s. 

Kunigunde grew up in a very formal court, and her family was not as warm as Ivy’s; Miss Kuni mentions in Chapter 7 that her family would blame her if her marriage failed, a stark contrast to how Ivy’s family has already plotted to bring her back home after feeling that Aegon wronged her. 

Miss Kuni confronting Daemon also illustrates just how cemented her traditional beliefs are—women aren’t combatants, princesses can’t be harmed—and it ultimately dooms her. But that sacrifice paves the way not only for the Greens’ military victory near Castle Rising, but also the Holy Roman Emperor taking Rhaenyra’s youngest children hostage as revenge for his daughter’s murder, which helps to neutralize Rhaenyra as a threat once the war is over.

Were there any other characters in your story that you enjoyed writing? I always adore writing Aegon. In every fandom, there are a few characters whose voices are so clear and so impactful in my head that their lines just feel like they write themselves. Aegon is like that for me. He is damaging without being malicious, pathetic and yet unpredictably heroic at times, weirdly insightful but also a dumb babygirl. I just love, love, love writing him. Especially since the Aegon who exists to me is Tom Glynn-Carney’s more nuanced and sympathetic interpretation, not the HOTD show canon version.

I also really enjoyed writing Nico. She is light and bubbly and enthusiastic and innocent, and compulsively honest in a way that is cringey for the royal family but hilarious to us readers. She adds some much-needed levity to an, at times, deeply tragic story. She’s also brave in a way that is sometimes unwise and childlike, which is consistent with her personality.

Lastly: Alonzo, as one wise anon message said, is a vibe.

So, I have to ask, you were “retired” but... Does this mean my “retirement” is over? Well…at the moment…yes. 😂 

I’m a lot more open to new fic ideas now because I’ve learned how impossible it is to predict when inspiration will strike, and I’ve also gained the perspective of what a loss it would have been if I’d never written NICIY. 

I think I’ve accepted that fics are likely just a part of my mental landscape and will be indefinitely. For example, after I finished up NICIY two weeks ago, I immediately dove back into my novel, write 20 pages…and then was assailed by a new fic idea! Of course I tried to ignore it, but as we have all learned, I am not very good at that. 

So a new HOTD fic is on the way! You will know more about that soon…very soon…very very soon… 👀

#interview with a writer #iwaw11 #bts #of their brilliant writing #aemond targaryen fanfic #don't mind her emoji use

[ursulaismymiddlename]

Untitled Document | Dream of the Endless x Reader

A/N: This is what happens when you have a million ideas and no idea what to do with him

Rated M for Morpheus is hot as fuck, but also there's a bit of naughtiness dotted in there

Special thanks to @captainpoopweinersoldier for encouraging this little idea and perusing it before posting to make sure it makes some semblance of sense haha

************************************************************************

“You’d seen entirely too many horror films to be perfectly at ease with the pale man draped in darkness at the corner of the room.  More concerning still was the overwhelming urge not to feel concerned at all.  A blanket of calmness as still as the night that seemed to hamper any tinge of fear without fully quelling it…”

The cursor blinks at you from the page and you nearly decide to scrub the whole thing.  But… well, it’s not a bad idea.  You just don’t know what to do with it.  None of the ideas have been bad, per se.  Some may be more inspired than others, but that’s the shape of things really.  Yet it all feels like you’re scattering seeds to the wind and nothing wants to take.

Maybe gardening isn’t the best metaphor.  You know actual gardening takes patience and care and hard work to achieve something beautiful.  But at this point, you’d settle for weeds in the crack of a sidewalk just to have something.  You also know that weeds can be beautiful too.

Instead of deleting the three measly sentences, you decide to… repurpose the document.  If you can’t make a whole story just yet, you can at least throw these fic ideas into a Google Doc and maybe try plucking something up later.

Let’s see…

- Your cat gets the drop on a raven, but you save it and decide to take it home and patch it back up. Unbeknownst to you, the raven belongs to the King of Dreams, who comes looking for his companion

Hmmm… not terrible. But really, how would your lazy chonk of a cat manage to capture some mystical bird?  The little tubbers can’t even capture flies worth a damn.  Maybe the cat is magical too somehow?  Are you a witch and the cat your Familiar?  That’s worth exploring later maybe.

- You’ve trained as a dancer since childhood, but after years of chronic illness (chronic pain and fatigue syndrome? fibromyalgia?) the only place you can still dance is in your dreams, and it’s there that Morpheus becomes enamored of you

That has some potential.  Write what you know, right?  But while you know chronic illness, you don’t really know any dancing.  This is the sorta shit that happens when you hear songs like “Tiny Dancer” while on your drive to work in the early morning.  How would you even write about dancing convincingly? Like are you going to have to Google dance terms to try sounding legit?

But the thought of even his slightest of smiles, even the barest hint of adoration makes your tummy flutter

- Cockworship.  Him splayed out on your bed (or his bed?) chiseled from the finest marble, adoring him this god, this endless being, this personification of dreams itself… and his breathless rasp of “Only you may worship me this way.”

Okay, that one has your cheeks heating up and you’re tummy flipping.  What a lovely image.  And certainly a mutual or two would absolutely love it as well. But… well, smut’s been a little difficult for you lately. Plus, you hardly ever write good smut.  There’s always more feeling than you intend because you love a good backstory.  Maybe you could try a Porn with Plot sometime, but today doesn’t feel like that day.  Perhaps if you get a weekend alone with a bottle of wine one day…

- You dream-walk into a library, expansive and filled to the brim with every book and story ever written or ever going to be written, every life story, every flitting thought, more knowledge than you can ever dream of… What is this place? The Library of Alexandria?

“No, far more than that.” “Will I remember when I wake up.”

“Only you of the Waking World knows that.”

An awed, hushed whisper “I hope I remember…”

The dialogue could use a bit of work, but it’s a start at least.  Maybe this one?  You’ve always dreamed of seeing the Library of Alexandria, of knowing every story, of knowing everything.  What a draw!  Anyone who reads or writes would feel that in their bones.  But why would a mortal walking through such a fantastical library garner the attention of the Dream Lord?  Like, what is so special about You?  I mean, yes, in real life people fall in love randomly all the time.  Who knows what attracts people to other people? But still, you have to be able to convince yourself before you can convince others.  What could a mortal possibly give a divine being?

- You’re a mortal, with Lord Morpheus, but he decides that it’s too dangerous/not good for either of you to continue being together (is this too much like that Twilight book? anyway) Not only does he abruptly break things off with you, but he also banishes you from the dream world, worried that it would be too tempting for either of you, but this leaves you with terrible sleep and in a depression, so much so, you turn to a full bottle of sleeping pills

“Am I so cruel?”

Your heart stops, plummeting into your stomach so fast you’re surprised you don’t hear it whistle and crash like a cartoon character going over a cliff.  Looking up from your laptop, you see him. Your dream -er, The Dream.  Those first three sentences feel right, somehow.  It’s not dark like in your imagination, but the same effect seems to wash over you.  Even as you look at your laptop again, you find the words and letters a jumbled mess.  The hastily crafted sentences strewn about haphazard and incoherent.  Has all this just been a dream?

Something pulls your attention back to him, to Dream.  That pale brow clouded by the pinch of curiosity between them.  He’s waiting for your answer, and while there is patience now, you feel it will not last forever.  And somehow, you know exactly what he’s asking.

“Not cruel, but…” You lick the dryness from your lips.  His words are always so measured, so calculated in your head, that you feel he deserves the same from you.  “Reserved? Aloof, maybe.  Like sometimes you don’t know how to feel so it’s easier just… not to.”

His glossy eyes go distant a moment, and then without a sound he moves, closing the distance between you until he can perch on the end of your bed, one long leg hitched up on the mattress with the dark fabric of his coat pooling around him. “You see me as cold. Uncaring.  You think I would condemn a lover to such torment for the mere crime of being mortal.”

“Haven’t you before?”

You’re not exactly sure where those words come from.  But they’re right, just the same.  Even if some latent part of you didn’t know for sure, the look that crosses his face proves the truth of it.  The way his eyes avert, jaw working beneath the cold marble of his skin.  There’s a ripple of anger in whatever blanket covers this dream of yours, but there’s shame in it too.  Self-doubt.  But your heart breaks from it of its own volition.

“You save them. In the end.”  The admission brings his gaze back to yours, the sharp lines of his face softened somehow, hopeful.  “Despair or Death - or both - warn you what’s happening and you show up to stop them before it’s too late.”

He nods slightly, knowing, the almost imperceptible quirk at the corner of his lips nearly wistful.  “You will not find my realm with these.  Only the Sunless Lands await you at the bottom of this bottle.”

His words steal the breath from your lungs.  His words… they’re yours.  The ones that came to you while thinking up with this angsty little fic idea.  Hearing him actually say them was all you’d imagined and more.  “You read my mind?”

“I read your stories,” he corrects.  “Every story finds its way to my library.  Written or unwritten.”

“And you read them all?”

Some of his regal posture returns as he regards you.  “I am eons old, The Dreaming and its library are extensions of my being.  And yet, even I could not fix my eyes on every work conceived of by all of consciousness.  Only one of my siblings could.”

“Destiny.”  Your understanding seems to please him.  And that serves to embolden you.  “Then why read mine?”

The Dream Lord’s head tilts slightly, considering.  “It is not often I see myself written about so plainly.  With truth.  And hope.”

That heat creeps across your cheeks again and you snort a laugh at yourself.  “There’s no way I could have captured you that well.”

“Closer than you realize.”  There’s something else in the glistening of his eyes, distant stars dancing in an ocean of blue with something akin to mischief.

It’s only then the thought occurs to you. “Have you read… every story I’ve ever written?”

He gives a curt nod.  “All you have ever written and all you have never written.”

You swallow hard, thoughts harkening back to the lewd image you had of him sprawled across a bed beneath you.  Though this time it is more solidified, silky sheets the color of the midnight sky with his skin a glowing moon amongst the stars…  

Your lips part to speak, but he is already rising to his feet.  And he knows.  You can feel it.  He knows exactly what you’re thinking and that amuses him too.  “You’ll awaken soon.  And I have duties I must attend.”

“But…” But what? But then he’s standing before you, the distance closed in a blink the way only dreams can move.  You crane your neck to meet his gaze only to find him descending towards you.

Cool knuckles whisper across the curve of your cheek, making your eyes flutter closed just as the feel of soft lips meets your forehead…

You jolt awake in your bed, limbs as warm and heavy as the laptop across your stomach.  The dream lingers in your mind even as you rub the sleep from your eyes.  How fucking weird.  How fucking Meta.

Ah well. You were up now and it didn’t seem like too much of the afternoon had passed.  A little nap never hurt anyone.  But now it was time to get down to business, that erratic urge to create buzzing through you like it hadn’t done in years.  You only hope this time you can buckle down and get something done for a chance.

Opening your laptop, you see the cursor flash on the page.

“You’d seen entirely too many horror films to be perfectly at ease with the pale man draped in darkness at the corner of the room.  More concerning still was the overwhelming urge not to feel concerned at all.  A blanket of calmness as still as the night that seemed to hamper any tinge of fear without fully quelling it…”

#kati writes #dream of the endless #morpheus #netflix the sandman #the sandman comics #dream of the endless x reader

[bebepac]

Rock Bottom

Series:  The Rotten Apple 🍎  (Link added if you need to catch up!)  The Book:  TRH/ TRF The Pairings:  Liam x Riley / Eleanor x Nico (Eleanor x M!OC) Word Count 3437 Song Inspiration:  I Don’t Want You Back by Eamon Ratings and Warnings: Mature, 18+ , mentions of mental illness, mentions of character deaths, mention of past assault.

Summary:  Nico begins a new life back in Greece with Ana.  Elle struggles while in the hospital.  Nico celebrates Ana’s first birthday.  

Original Post: 07/17/22 at 12:15AM  EST.

A/N:  I’ve been crazy busy with work, and it has been affecting my writing. When you type for a living at your job, and spend sometimes typing for 12+ hours a day for a job, the last thing you want to do is come home and type recreationally.  This chapter is being posted a lot later than I planned, and  honestly I had planned to be done with this series by now,  I have maybe  two or so chapters left at the very most.  This series has been fun for me,  but it’s time to sprinkle some love on the other story lines that are craving attention.  

Liam, Riley, Adam, and Liberty

After the press conference they walked back into the grand hall together.  Liam clasped Adam on the shoulder.  

“You did well in front of the press, my son.  Your support for Ellie was very heartfelt.”

Adam nodded.

“It was the right thing to do, Father. May I go?”  

“Of course, Adam.”  

Once Adam disappeared from sight, Libby emerged from the shadows.

“What you said up there was a lie, Father.  I heard what happened that night, we all did.  We know the truth.  I just thought you would tell us the truth, and say something to us, instead of us all hiding behind a veil of secrets, like nothing ever happened, and Ellie just evaporated into thin air.”

“Liberty….”  

“I get it Father, I really do understand. This is how we protect the Crown, how we protect our own…. Ellie.  She’s where she should be, to get the help she needs.  What’s going to happen to her daughter?”  

“Nico will be taking their daughter back to Greece, when he’s able to bottle feed her, to live a quiet life away from the public.”

“So we’ll never see her again?  Either of them?  Like they don’t  exist? They’re our family Father.”

“Enough Liberty! We’re doing what’s best for our family!!!!” Riley screamed at Liberty.

Liberty flinched, closing her mouth.

“Riley, let her speak!  Our daughter, who has always struggled  to talk for most of her life, needs to say what's on her mind, and you will not silence her.  Go to my study and wait for me.  I will speak with Liberty.”  

“Liam…”  

“Now Riley!”  

Riley quickly disappeared from sight.

"Father, she really loves Nico, she told me, and I believe her.    Is their relationship truly over?"

"What Eleanor did to his son, I don't know that he will be able to forgive her."

"I'm an Aunt. Do you have pictures of Ellie’s daughter?  What's her name?"

"Nico named her Eliana. They call her Ana for short.  I have a lot of pictures and videos of her, of them together, if you’d like to see.”  

Liberty watched the videos and scrolled through the pictures.

"Ellie looks so happy with the baby."

"She is."

"I've never seen her look that happy ever."

“Ever?”  Liam asked.

“Look at her.”  

Ellie was beaming in the video and was holding Ana in her arms, she kissed her cheeks, gregarious as she bantered with the baby, responding to her coos as if Ana was answering her, and then when she noticed Liam was taping them, she smiled  at the camera,  “Say hi to Pop Pop.”  

“Hi Pop Pop,”  she said, waving Ana’s little hand at the camera.  Ellie  laughed while she imitated a baby voice, pretending to be Ana.

Liam  could be heard laughing off camera, Ellie’s laughing was lighthearted. 

“I’ve never seen Ellie smile like that, my whole entire life.”  

Liberty wouldn’t have,  they found out about  Ellie before Liberty was born.  But  he had, things had changed, when Ellie turned five. Liam realized then, that he failed Ellie. He had let Riley break Ellie down.

“I didn’t realize Ellie looked so unhappy all the time.”  

"She did Father.  Will she at least be able to see Ana when she goes back to the hospital?"

"Probably would not be the best thing for her and for them.”  

“Can I write to her?”  

“Liberty, I think that she would really like that. You are so kind.”  

“She’s my sister.  I miss her not being around. 

It doesn’t feel the same.”  

“I miss her too.  Do you feel better Little Love?”  

“I do, Father.  Thank You.”

He gave her a quick hug.  

She smiled at him. "Go, I know you need to go and talk to Mother."

Liam sighed, heading towards his study, Riley was pacing when he walked in the door.  Liam sighed as he closed the door behind him.

“What?”  She hissed, whirling around to face him.

“Riley we agreed on how we would handle the press conference and how we would portray Nico and Ellie to the public.  You went way off script.”  

“I. Backed. You. Up.  Didn’t I?  I think I handled myself phenomenally. 

Let’s be honest here.  Ellie has no one to blame but herself for her stupidity. That man is almost twice her age, he used her.  Actually, both of them, were stupid.   Nico's dumb ass having a mid life crisis sad over his son's death thought screwing a princess would brighten his disposition, and he knocked her up. He’s a man child. She brought a child into this world she won’t even be able to help raise.”

“And who did she learn that from?”  

“What are you insinuating Liam?”

“You have not lifted a finger to positively affect Eleanor’s life, since you found out she does not have my DNA.  You withheld your love from her and she saw it, and it broke something in her.  What’s worse is, I allowed you  to do it.  The problems Ellie is now facing are our fault.  She might have had a chance, if you would have been able to love her in spite of her being Drake’s child, and treated her like a second class citizen in our own home..”  

“That’s not true.  You can’t pray or love a mental illness away.  That’s not how it works.  Whatever she was going to be, she was always meant to be that. Me giving her more hugs and kisses wouldn’t have changed a damn thing.”  

“You don’t know that,  she was happy.  We could have seen the signs sooner and got her help before she hurt someone.  Things could have been different for her. She would have never gone to talk to Drake.  She was looking for someone to understand her, and not judge her,  that’s why she went to him, why she clung to him. 

“Understanding from a madman?!?!?  Sure that’s the perfect person I would trust.”

“God Dammit Riley,  I am SICK OF YOUR SARCASM  WHEN IT COMES TO ELLIE?!?!?! Doesn’t it mean anything to you that you carried her for NINE MONTHS?!?!?!?”

“Why are you so intent on saving her, Liam? We both know we would have ended the pregnancy then if we knew she wasn’t yours.”

“Why are you not?!?!?!?!  But we didn’t terminate, and she’s here Riley.  She’s here….. Do you remember telling me when Ellie was born how much you wished your mother was here, to be there for you?”  

“Yes, of course I remember that, Liam.”  

“YOU’RE HER MOTHER!!!!!!  You’re making Ellie relive the life that you had, and you’re still alive.  You could change that.  You have an opportunity to be there for your daughter, the way your mother couldn’t be there for you,  the way that you wanted her to be.  Ellie doesn’t have to live without you in her life.  Our daughter needs our help, and she needs our love and understanding.  Your Love.”

“I can’t give her that Liam. I can’t.  I tried.  I really did.  I look at her, and all I see is what he  did to us, what he did to me.”  

“Riley…..”

“I CAN’T!!!!  I wish I could see her through your eyes.  But I can’t, I don’t think I ever will.”

“Riley… she’s part of you.”  

“And she’s part of HIM!!!  Maybe you see her differently because you had this past with Drake growing up. You have very fond memories of the person he was to you as a child.  He was your friend.  I have two nights I’ve  desperately tried to forget because he drugged me, and took advantage of me.  And one of those nights, Ellie is the outcome of it. I can’t forget that.  Maybe that makes me a terrible person, but I can’t forget it.”

“Riley please….. It’s not her fault…..”  

“You won’t change my mind, no matter how hard and passionate you plead her case.”  

Tears stung Liam’s eyes as Riley walked out of the study.          

Nico and Mama K

"Look at her!!! She's precious. She looks so happy and healthy now. She's a little butterball."

"Don’t call her fat Mama, she's perfect." He knew the credit for Ana's turnaround in health was because of Elle's care and love. Elle nursed Ana back to good health, literally.  

Ana had gotten bigger, and her cheeks chubby, and her curly hair thicker. Her complexion had darkened slightly, Ana fell somewhere between his skin tone, and Elle’s.  He thought she looked like a beautiful little cherub. Nico made a goofy looking face at Ana and she giggled. Nico chuckled softly, touching her face.

"And that adorable little laugh!!!! It was not meant to be an insult Nico, she's a beautiful baby. Chunky babies are happy babies, and she is well fed. She looks even more like her mother now."

"She really does.  I can see Elle in her eyes."

"And she has her mother’s appetite.  How did Elle take to you leaving her?"

"Hard. She was extremely hurt and angry with me.  But, she's still not well."

“That didn’t stop you.”

Nico glanced down at Ana, she was holding the bottle herself as she ate.  He smiled down at her, and she smiled back at him.  He knew, and believed the only reason Ana was with him now, was because Elle had saved her life, and their last night together he should have handled things differently.

“No, Mama, it did not.”  

“I see it all over your face Nico. You feel guilty for your actions.  And the story her father told to the press was nothing but lies. You still love her. She wouldn’t have allowed you back into her bed, if she didn’t still love you as well.”

"We're no good for each other Mama. We hurt each other. She broke my heart, so I broke hers back.  That’s not true love, it can’t be, doing things for spite. The only good we have produced in all the pain and misery we have caused each other is Ana. I don't regret what we did, because Ana is the product of it. Our love."

He thought about that night.  He had told Elle words that he should have never said.

“And you’re sure I can stay with you for a bit until I can get on my feet?”

“As long as you need Nico.  I already love having the two of you around.”  

Nico fell back into the lifestyle he had escaped in his early 20’s to help bring money into his Mother’s home.  

He was surprised to see his mother at the dock waiting for him with Ana in her stroller.  

“I couldn’t wait for you to get home.  It’s a letter from King Liam.”

He tickled Ana’s chest for a moment, and she giggled to his touch.  He wanted to pick her up, but he knew he was sweaty and disgusting from working on the boat all day.  It didn’t pay much, but it was more than nothing.  

“Nico, what does it say?!?!?!”

"Okay give me a moment to open it!"

Nico skimmed the letter quickly.

“King Liam wants to make sure that Ana is well taken care of, that regardless of Elle abdicating the throne, that she is part of the crown, and part of the royal family, and by extension, I am too.  There’s a check enclosed, the beginning of a monthly stipend for Ana’s care and wellbeing.”

The monthly check was well more than double his salary that he made as a centurion guard, it was a small fortune.

“You could buy a house, Nico.”  

“Yes I can.  I will buy the perfect  house to raise my daughter.”  

Elle

Elle closed her eyes remembering her last night at the apartment with Nico. They. Made. Love. Nico was passionate and it was beautiful. She knew what sex was like with him, and they had sex before, slipping away for  a short time during palace events because they had a finite number of minutes before someone would notice either one was missing.  That last night together wasn’t that.

His actions didn’t make sense.  What he had said to her father, how the two of them had been together, especially the last time. He knew how difficult it was for her to say those words to him, and when those words slipped from her lips that last time during, he said them back, and it was a very emotional moment between them, at least, she thought it was.  She thought he meant them.  How did she misunderstand that?

“Why would you do that to me?”  

“You were naive Eleanor.  You thought you were in control with him, and you weren’t. Men say what they want to get what they want. And what he wanted, what he was lusting for was you."

"Can you just not do this right now? You were gone for months. I felt the most normal I've ever felt in my life with Father, Nico and…Ana."  Elle choked back tears thinking of Ana. "I miss my baby. Don't you care that I'm hurting right now? Leave me alone please."

"I find this extremely interesting. You were talking all big and bad before, and look at you now…. Oooh how the mighty have fallen."

"Can you just give me just one day of peace before you start up on me again. Just one day?"

She clutched the little pink plush teddy bear close to her chest that Nico had left behind. The little plush bear smelled like Ana, it smelled like the little home they had created at the apartment.

The next day Eleanor spoke to her doctor. They increased her medication, and Elle fell into a medication induced haze. Elle found for her being emotionally numb to the world around her dulled her senses.  Dulled her interactions with his manifestations and Elle lost complete track of how much time she had spent in the hospital.  

“It’s time for therapy Eleanor.”  

“Alright.”  

Elle sat in silence staring at  Dr. Stanley, her  therapist.  Another mostly silent therapy session.

“Eleanor,  I really thought today would be different for you.”

Elle shrugged her shoulders.    “It’s just another day in a sequence of many, one continuous loop of the same thing every day.”  

“I beg to differ.  Today is different for you.”  

“I don’t know what you mean.”  Elle gently stroked the teddy bear she was holding.

“For starters, you never have brought that teddy bear in here with you during your past therapy sessions. What’s the significance now?  

“It’s her teddy bear he left behind, is all. It doesn’t even smell like her anymore.  It just smells like me.”  

“Do you know what today is?”

“The days blur together here.  I don’t know what you are getting at.”  

“It’s your daughter’s first birthday.”  

“It is?”  Elle looked down at the teddy bear resting in her lap.  

“It doesn’t feel like it’s been that long?  It’s been that long?”  

“It has.  I was thinking maybe it’s time to wean you down on your medication a little bit.”  

“NO! You know what I’m capable of!”  

“Eleanor, we adjusted your medication stronger because it was evident from the way you came back to us, you needed it to help you cope.  You were almost grieving for your daughter in a way because Nico took her back to Greece.”  

Elle’s eyes filled with tears as she clutched the little teddy bear in her lap.

“Your point is?”  

“You’re using the medication as a crutch now.  If you ever want to get better and even possibly consider a life outside of here…”

“What kind of life can I have?   I don’t have a home.  I’m not ever going back to the palace.  Ana is with her father, and he hasn’t even contacted me once since he left. I have no one now.  My baby probably doesn’t even remember me anymore, and she’s celebrating her first birthday right now without me. I will never forget the moment she came into this world.“

Liam, Liberty, Nico, and Ana

The moment was bittersweet for Liam as  Nico surrounded by his family and Ana sat up front with precocious eyes,  barely digging into her birthday smash cake, only swiping a tiny bit of icing from the cake to her lips.  

She reminded him of Ellie so much at that age.   Nico smiled and coaxed her in Greek to not be timid.  At that point she decided it was okay to  dig into the cake.  Ana grabbed fistfulls of cake, and family around her began to laugh and snap pictures.  

Later Nico came over to them.  

“I’m so glad the two of you were able to make the trip.”  

“She's gotten so big!”  Liam took her from Nico giving her a hug and a kiss.  “It feels like only yesterday she was born.”

“I know, I have taken so many pictures of her,  I swear I just blinked, and she started crawling, now walking and talking.”

Liberty took one of Ana’s hands while Liam talked to her.  

“I’m your Aunt Libby, and I’m so happy to meet you.”

“I’ll let you two have some time with her.”  Nico gently kissed the top of Ana’s forehead before she walked away.  

Liam held her close.

“She looks just like Ellie, Father.”  

“She really does.  I wish she was here. I hate that she’s missing this.”  

“I agree, but we’ll give her hugs for her.”

“Yes we will, I’m so glad you decided to come with me to Greece, Libby.”  

“Me too, Father.”

He knew he would think about her today, even though he tried not to.  Elle…  He thought about her most days, how could he not, he was raising a daughter, their daughter, who had big brown eyes and long curly locks, just like her mother.   She had her mother’s eyes, and the way that Ana stared at him sometimes, he felt like she knew they were missing something special from their lives. That she was missing someone who cared deeply about her.  Nico shook his head again, maybe it was him just projecting his own feelings that he secretly hoped Ana felt too.  

Was Elle even thinking of her today?  Nico glanced down at his desk, at the letter he had started writing to Elle multiple times over the last six months, each time he decided not to mail it.  He had thought he would send her pictures of Ana, so Elle could see their daughter, and know she was doing well.

Finally late in the evening, even after the strong convincing of his mother to stay to help him clean the house, Nico was alone in the house with Ana again.   Ana looked tired, she had a big day with family.  

“Time for a bath, but before that.  I have one last present for you.”

Nico helped her pull the wrapping paper from the frame.  It was a picture of Nico and Elle together when they had spent Christmas in Greece.  He set it on the mantle as a centerpiece.  The two of them, had been happy during that trip, and Elle looked beautiful in that pink dress.

“The woman standing next to me in this picture, is someone I truly cared about deeply. You may not remember her, but I’m sure she remembers you. Her name is Elle, and she’s your mother.”  

That night Nico started a tradition with Ana.  He began telling Ana  the story of a princess  locked away in a tower, by an evil dragon.  The story over the years became more elaborate.

“Papa, why didn’t her guard rescue her?”

Nico was surprised by Ana’s question.

“Was he afraid of the dragon because it hurt people?”

“Yes.”

“Was he afraid because the dragon was part of her too?”  

Nico nodded.

“But he loves her right?”

“He does….did.”

“And she loves him?”  

“She did, but she probably doesn’t anymore.”

“If the guard is anything like you Papa, she still does. I think he should go rescue her.”

“Hey! I’m the one telling this story!”  

Ana folded her arms across her chest glaring at him.   She had Elle’s mannerisms completely in that moment. She spoke to him with a matter of fact voice very reminiscent of her mother,  “Well I’m just telling you how to make this story better.”  

Nico chuckled loudly.  “Fine!  I’ll take it under advisement.”

“The story just stops..  There’s got to be more to it.”  

“I’ll think about it.  Now you sleep.  Sweet dreams.”

“Good night Papa.”  

“Good night Ana.”  

Nico kissed Ana’s forehead, and turned off the bedside lamp.

The story had stopped, because Nico forced it to stop.  He had run away from the story, from Elle, the moment Ana could take a bottle and never went back.  But was there truly more?  Could there really be more to the story?

The next day someone showed up on Nico’s doorstep to tell him that there was.

#bebepac writes #with a flair for the dramatic #and drama for the win #the rotten apple #choices fanfic #choices fandom appreciation #nico x elle #liam x riley #choices fic writers creations

[scotianostra]

On September 21st 1832 the novelist and poet Sir Walter Scott died aged 61.

Born in a small third floor flat in College Wynd in Edinburgh’s Old Town, Walter was the ninth child of Anne Rutherford and Walter Scott, a solicitor and member of the private Scottish society known as the Writers of the Signet, so called for their entitlement to use the Scottish King’s seal – known as the signet – when drawing up legal documents.

Whilst the Scott’s home near the University was a popular area for lecturers and professionals like Scott’s father to live, in reality the small, overcrowded alleyway saw little natural light and clean air and suffered from a lack of proper sanitation. Unsurprisingly perhaps then, that six of Anne and Walter’s children died in infancy and the young Walter (or ‘Wattie’ as he was affectionately known) when he was just two years old, Scott became afflicted with polio. Though he survived the illness, his right leg would be unusable for the rest of his life.

Writing was not Scott’s first career choice. He studied law, which he practiced after completing his studies. He later served as sheriff-deputy of his county, for our those not familiar with the term sheriff in Scotland one doesn’t have a star and six shooters but was a judge in the Scotland’s courts, a term still used to this day.

In the 19th century,  Scott's stories and poems put Scotland on the map as a tourist destination. And while his writings spanned the whole country, his heart was always in his adopted home of the Scottish Borders. In fact, the Borders feature in three of his novels, The Monastery, The Black Dwarf and Saint's Ronan's Well.

I wont go into his literary output this time, instead I will give you a  few facts about one of our greatest storytellers...

Scott contracted polio as a child and temporarily lost the use of his right leg. When he was sent to his grandfather's farm in Sandyknowe to recuperate, his passionate love affair with the Scottish Borders began. A second bout of bad health a few years later saw him convalescing in Kelso, where he learned even more about the old songs and folklore of the region. If it hadn't been for those fateful illnesses, Scott wouldn't have been inspired to celebrate the Borders in his work and it wouldn't have become such a popular visitor spot. His periods of ill-health meant he always walked with a stick, as seen in many paintings of him.

In 1786, when Scott was just 15, he bumped into Scotland's celebrated poet at a party thrown by philosopher Adam Ferguson . The two didn't speak much, but Scott later remembered being struck by the poet's dignity and the emotion that glowed in his eyes. Burns in turn appears to have been impressed by the young Scott's knowledge of poetry. The “scene” painting is an imagination of the event painted years  later.

Sir Walter who conjured up the fashion magazine term “glamour”.  It had a bit of a different meaning than it does now though — he actually took it from the old Scottish word 'gramarye', which means a spell that enchants the eye. It appears in his 1805 poem, 'The Lay of the Last Minstrel'.

Dark was the vaulted room of gramarye,

A moment then the volume spread,

And one short spell therein he read:

It had much of glamour might;

Could make a ladye seem a knight;

The cobwebs on a dungeon wall

Scott expanded upon the nature of glamour further in his Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft of 1830, when in letter three he wrote that “This species of Witchcraft is well known in Scotland as the glamour, or deceptio visus, and was supposed to be a special attribute of the race of Gipsies.”

It is widely regarded that  Sir Walter Scott  invented the historical novel Scott was the first English language author to enjoy worldwide fame while he was still alive. And with Waverley in 1814, he actually invented the entire genre of the historical novel. Five years later, his novel Ivanhoe helped to create our contemporary concept of Robin Hood, making the outlaw a nobleman called Robin of Locksley. This idea later inspired the 1991 movie, Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, proving that Scott's imagination is timeless. Eventually, he used the financial rewards from his writings to build his house, Abbotsford, on the banks of the Tweed. Sir Walter  Scott served as chairman of the Royal Society of Edinburgh and was also a member of the Royal Celtic Society. His own contribution to the reinvention of Scottish culture was enormous, even though his re-creations of the customs of the Highlands were fanciful at times.

Scott has been credited with rescuing the Scottish banknote. In 1826, there was outrage in Scotland at the attempt of Parliament to prevent the production of banknotes of less than five pounds. Scott wrote a series of letters to the Edinburgh Weekly Journal under the pseudonym "Malachi Malagrowther" for retaining the right of Scottish banks to issue their own banknotes. This provoked such a response that the Government was forced to relent and allow the Scottish banks to continue printing pound notes. This campaign is commemorated by his continued appearance on the front of all notes issued by the Bank of Scotland.

Scott spent his last days at his house in Abbotsford, Roxburgh. He requested to be moved to the dining room in order to have a clear view of his beloved River Tweed from the window.

He died  on this day 1832 and was buried in the already derelict Dryburgh Abbey - a spot he identified at an early age as his resting place.

#Scotland #scottish #solicitor. #sheriff #poet. #Author #makar #history

[rays-of-fire-and-ice]

You are the Snow

Hitsuhina Week 2022 - Day 1 : The First Snow / Garment

Rating: K+ / General

Setting: A month and a bit after Aizen’s defeat. Momo was in Twelfth Division for a month but two weeks ago was transferred to Fourth Division.

Synopsis: ‘It’s almost impossible to not be reminded of Toshiro when the first snow comes.’

AN: And so it begins! I have sort of tackled this idea already in The Snow at Dusk, but I wanted to try it again with something different (and more angsty and shmaltzy >:D). Actually, now that I think about it as I write this, you can think of this as a spiritual prequel to it. Also, I think they’re out of character here, but I still wanted to explore what would happen.

I was partly inspired by three things: 1) the title is a reference to the Endless Melancholy song ‘You Are the Moonlight’, 2) the basic idea for this one came from Fruits Basket, specifically Hatori’s monologue about Kana being ‘spring’ to him, and 3) the gif I included at the top.

If I had recommend any songs to listen to while reading this, it would be the song I mentioned above, but also the EP ‘Losing Today’ by The Living Sleep (it’s only four songs). For the latter, I would particularly recommend listening to it when Toshiro reads his own name (you'll know it when you see it).

Anyhow, hope you all enjoy this!

___________________________

Momo watches the first snow falls over the Seireitei form her window. It’s later than usual, normally happening sometime at the beginning of December – if it happens at all, as was the case for some years.

Those outside in the courtyard or leaving the Fourth Division stop for a moment to watch as well. Their breathes fog in the air, and despite the breeze that blows through, none shiver or are deterred to move. Most smile and appreciate the white specks that fall in lazy circles over them, others hold out their hands to catch a flake.

It’s almost impossible to not be reminded of Toshiro when the first snow comes.

The thought of him makes Momo press a hand to her chest, on top of her robe and the bandages secured over her wound. She knows the truth of what happened, but even so, she can’t stop the tightening sensation in her heart or the threat of tears in her eyes. She’d often hesitated to think about him, but with the snow falling, she can’t stop.

She remembers the horror in his eyes before she’d lost consciousness, it’s a moment that has stuck with her since waking up. It’s in remembering that, and in knowing that he’s always been critical of himself, that she is sure everything that happened is tearing at him. He’d likely blame himself for the whole thing, maybe even seek forgiveness when it is not needed.

A part of her wants to comfort him, to reassure him that everything is all right – especially since it will be his birthday tomorrow and this will be one of those years where she cannot celebrate with him – but it’s too much. She holds no ill-will or fear towards him, but the memories are still too raw, still too vivid. The cold of Hyourinmaru piercing through her chest, she can still feel an echo it in her wound.

What had happened between them, it's like a monolith, towering and unmovable, something that will always be with them going forward.

She isn’t ready to see him, but she can’t leave things as they are either. What can she do?

She tries to dismiss the thoughts, growing weary from focusing on them. She must rest now, and think of something she can do later. Rangiku is coming to visit her today, maybe she can discuss it with her.

Except now she can’t stop thinking that he is no longer the boy she grew up with may not be the same anymore, and neither will she.

But it’s in turning to go back to her bed that she glances at the sketchbook and novels piled up on her bedside table. As she sits on her bed, it occurs to her that she still likes to read and draw. Despite what she must still deal with, her reality was nothing but a fiction for decades in many regards, some things had not changed. Some things had been real and came to her long before she was a Shinigami, like her love for reading and drawing. By extension then, so were her friendships with those who had gifted her these books when they came to visit.

She shifts her gaze back to the snow. Her childhood friend was always in his element when winter came, even before he became a Shinigami. She remembers many winters in the Junrinan with him. He always seemed comfortable with the weather at that time, walking out with fewer layers on than most Souls, content to sit high one tree branches while it snowed, never slipping on ice or snow, and never bothered by how cold his hands got.

They aren’t the same, but some parts of them, so fundamental that they do not yield to change, will remain the unchanged. For as long as she has known him, he has been self-critical, cold, stubborn, kind, and loyal to the bitter end. For as long as she has known him, he is like the snow.

The idea that comes to mind makes her take up her sketchbook and pencil set and go back to the chair by the window. For the next hour she sketches, only pausing to look out the window, swap one pencil for another, or eraser a line. While she draws, she doesn’t focus on the tightness in her chest, or the fear that things are different now. There is only the snow and the thought of wanting to comfort him, of knowing who he is at his core.

She finishes by writing the ‘title’ of the sketch and tearing it out of the book. But now that her fervor is fading as she folds the drawing in half, she wonders if she should really give this to him. It is everything she wants to tell him that she can’t put into words, but will he understand or even remember? Will he take this as a sign to come visit her when she wasn’t ready?

By the time Rangiku appears half an hour later, she still isn’t sure.

__________________________________

“Happy birthday, Captain!”

Toshiro blinks at his desk, bewildered. Rather than respond to Rangiku’s birthday wishes, he asks, “Where did all the paperwork go?”

“Huh?! You didn’t even notice?!” she half shouts.

He whirls around, but what he sees only makes him more puzzled. “What’s it doing with you?”

Rangiku thumps a hand on her desk. “Is that how you think of me?! I do a lot for this division, you know!” She huffs. “And here I thought this would make a good birthday present.”

“…You completing all the paperwork is a birthday present?”

“I mean, you always do so much of it, the least I can do is complete every report stacked here on your birthday.”

“Or you could do half of it every day like you’re supposed to,” he says under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Still, that fact she was willing to complete a stack as tall as this one for the day; even if she didn’t get all the way through it, it’ll be a big help. “Thank you, Matsumoto.”

She smirks. “I expected a bit more graciousness, but you’re most welcome!”

He rolls his eyes. “I only came here to make a start on the reports, but that isn’t happening now.”

Rangiku pulls out her inkwell and writing brush from the drawer. Now that she’d announced her birthday gift, most of the cheeriness had left, but there’s still a small smile. “I’m guessing you’ll be going to train, then?”

He nods. She opens her mouth, as if to say something, but stops herself.

He chooses to ignore it; whatever it is, chances are she’ll tell him later. “I’ll be back before sunset.”

Thinking they’re done, he goes to leave the office.  However, just as he reaches for the door handles, the scrape of her chair gives him pause.

“Sir.”

The hesitation in her voice make him turn back around. “What?”

She looks down pensively at her desk. Her shoulders rise with a large breath in, and after they fall, she speaks, “I went to visit Hinamori yesterday.”

The familiar vice around his heart emerges. He doesn’t dare speak, fearing his voice will give away what he truly feels, so he waits.

“I didn’t tell you sooner because of how late you came back to the division yesterday,” Rangiku continues. She offers that small smile again, but her eyes remain thoughtful. “She’s doing well, all things considered. Her wounds are almost completely healed She asked about you, and I told her you were focused on training.”

The rest is up to you, is the implication he takes from her tone of voice. He starts to thank her and plans to rush off, trying to use this update as fuel for his training, but then she digs her hand into her sleeve.

She pulls out a folded piece of paper. Her expression is soft with sympathy. “She…She also wanted you to have this.”

His heart thuds against his chest. Swallowing to steady his voice, he asks, “What is it?”

“It’s addressed to you, so I don’t know.” As if realizing he is stuck in place, Rangiku rounds her desk and slowly approaches him, as if one wrong move would set off something. “The truth is, she wasn’t sure about giving this to you, but after our chat, she went ahead with it." She holds it out to him. "She said you don’t have to look at it now, but that…she’d appreciate if you took it.”

If only she knew what those last six words did to him; now he has no choice. His hand floats out and takes the paper, and sure enough, her writing is on one of the folds: ‘To Hitsugaya Toshiro’.

He doesn’t look up from his name as Rangiku admits, “I wasn’t sure if I should give this to you now, but it didn’t feel right to have it one me for much longer.”

“I understand.” He summons what strength he has left to look her in the eye without an ounce of the emotions clawing at him. “Thank you, Matsumoto.”

The moment she nods back, he opens the door and walks out into the snowy day. When he goes around the corner, he bolts for his room. He’ll leave her sketch there and go to training. He repeats this decision over and over in his mind like an order to himself.

But then he gets to his quarters, and suddenly he can’t do it. No, for all his fear of facing without any progress being made to improve his bankai, he’s greatest fear is that she never wanted to speak or see him again. He’s been wanting a sign that she doesn’t hate him, and what he holds in his hands will tell him.

He cringes at his own weakness. He’d thought it didn’t matter whether or not she’d hate him, because he would commit to better protecting her no matter what, even it meant he could only do it from afar. But even then, some part of him knew she wouldn’t hate him, not when she has been his friend for decades.

He can’t leave his room until he knows what is on this paper, and so he unfolds it. More of her writing is on another fold: ‘Before we see each other again, please remember this.’

At first, he frowns at the rough sketch of a courtyard from the Fourth Division dusted in snow. It takes up most of the paper and is not up to her usual skill level, but even when out of practice she manages to draw so well. He can make out the bare Sakura tree, the individual plants dotted around the grassy areas, and a few Shinigami in the distance looking up at the falling snow. Why would she want him to remember a courtyard?

But then his breath catches in his throat when he reads the title below the drawing.

‘You are the snow’

“What?”

“Well, more accurately, you’re like the snow.”

“Is that meant to be an insult?”

“Wha?! No, of course not!”

“Then don’t say something so dumb.”

“It’s not dumb! I meant that you’re, uh…it’s hard to explain, but…snow is cold, but it’s also soft. It can be fun to watch or walk through or have snowball fights with it. If you melt it, it becomes water, which we need.

"And the snow can bring people together under the same roof, and then when it melts, it becomes spring, and the flowers come back. I think some people get too caught up in how cold it is, when really there’s other qualities it has…It’s not that bad.”

He lets out a choked gasp, almost losing the ability to breathe. That was several decades ago, when they were much younger. He had almost forgotten about it, but a part of him had obviously clung to it somewhere in the back of his mind. The part of him that kept memories of things he didn’t understand when he was a child.

He didn't understand her words, had dismissed them by claiming she was getting hypothermia from standing out in the cold for too long. He'd tried to ignore the sad smile she gave him afterwards as they walked back into the Junrinan, and now he can't get it out of his head.

Why did she have to be so cryptic? She only ever gets like this when she is lost for words, when she struggles to describe something. What is she trying to tell him?

That she still sees him as a child? That they haven’t changed? Surely she had to know things can’t be the same, that they are not the same as they were before. There are parts of him that haven’t changed, still as cold and unapproachable as…

Before we see each other again, please remember this.

No, if he so dared believed…

He holds the drawing tighter and bows his head. Why?

Back then, when she had told him he was like the snow, she was trying to make him see himself differently, to show him why she considered him a friend without outright saying it. She did what she always does: she sees the good in someone, casts the qualities in them in a new light. She believes in them, from the bottom of her heart, and she thought of him before herself.

How did she still believe in him? Why was she trying comfort him? He didn’t deserve it, not after what he did; but she thought he did anyway. And she even thought they would see each other some time. There isn’t a doubt in her, about him or about seeing him again.

He’s been focused on becoming stronger before he can see her, and that has not changed; but to know she would one day want to see him, and that she hoped for the same, that she had reached out to him like this, it brings with it a rush of relief.

The vice in his heart loosens a fraction, and he can breathe again.

____________________________________

It’s a week later when she receives the book from Rangiku and Nanao. The novel itself hadn’t been the first thing she’d noticed though; it was the fabric bookmark that peeked out one end. Rangiku said she'd 'helped pick it out' but nothing more on it. A few minutes after they left, Momo pulled it out of the pages it was wedged between.

She inspects it now, turning it over in her hands with a smile. She’ll have to ask Rangiku when she next visits, but she’s certain it’s meant to be from Toshiro. Because on one side is a branch of sakura, and on the other is more spring flowers.

#hitsuhina #hitsuhina week #toshiro hitsugaya #momo hinamori #rangiku matsumoto #fluff and sappiness #angst #fanfiction #bleach #the shmaltz is real with this one

[starlene]

So, here’s a summary of the Dracula play I saw in Åbo Svenska Teater, Turku, Finland!

First act:

The play begins with Dracula telling the audience he’s getting bored of his eternal life, so he wants to travel to London to see if he can find something stimulating there.

The next scene is the Harkers throwing a BBQ party because Jonathan has just been promoted (after his former colleague Renfield fell mysteriously ill) and is about to go on a big business trip.

We learn Mina is an aspiring novelist struggling with writer’s block. We also have to witness Seward making awkward small talk with Lucy.

Arthur is also there, smitten with Lucy... and so is Quincey, but he’s just hanging out, no interest in Lucy whatsoever.

The setting is a mix of the 19th and 21st centuries. The characters say it’s the 1800s, but the BBQ isn’t the only modern reference here – for example, the vampire hunters eat modern cereal for breakfast and the dialogue references things like toxic masculinity and mansplaining.

After the party, Jonathan goes to Transylvania, has a fun creepy carriage ride and meets the Count himself.

Dracula seriously goes OWO every single time he sees Jonathan’s neck.

After about two days of weirding Jonathan out, Dracula just locks him in his castle and leaves for London.

Back in London, Mina is struggling with her book. She figures out she should write about what she knows, that is, her own life – but her creative block persists. She and Lucy go for a walk in a cemetery for inspiration. Lucy and Arthur begin a relationship.

Then it’s time for the last voyage of the Demeter – and it’s sooo good!

They transform the whole theatre into the ship, with sails over the stalls and crew members on the balconies.

There’s some aerial acrobatics and some great comedic bits: the first mate has a Captain Haddock-like vocabulary, and I loved how he took an invisible handbrake off when stepping at the ship’s helm.

Dracula meets Lucy (or maybe has a telepathic conversation with her), and she tells him she’s unhappy with Arthur – he’s very sweet and all, but she feels like he’s too codependent and doesn’t respect her personal space and plans. Dracula says he can offer her something that can help, but he’ll only do it if she wants him to. Lucy says yes, and Dracula bites her.

I guess it’s fair enough that Lucy thinks Arthur is a bit too much, since he has just sung a really, really cheesy love song about Lucy. Maybe Lucy didn’t appreciate his effort, but the audience sure did!

Every time a vampire bites someone, there’s a burst of rose-petal-like red confetti.

Meanwhile in Transylvania, Dracula’s Brides are fighting over Jonathan: they can’t agree whether to eat their cake or keep it. One of them wants to to drink his blood straight out of him, while the others think that’s unethical and that they should act in a civilized manner (that is, drain him quickly and preserve the blood for later.)

While the Brides are having a full-blown brawl over the ethics of draining your victims of blood, Jonathan finds a secret passageway in the floor and escapes.

Jonathan later bursts out of a sewer outside a hospital where a bunch of nuns are taking a smoking break. Escape via Dracula’s secret sewer.

The act ends with Lucy falling ill and collapsing on the floor, with the rest of the characters telling the theatre techs to stop the show and the audience to go to intermission.

Second act:

Seward has invited a renowned colleague of his to take a look at Lucy, and we get an extremely over-the-top Van Helsing introduction: he’s lowered from the ceiling, the lighting goes wild and electric quitars are playing, he runs around fistbumping the audience and whatnot.

He’s not here because he wants to be the hero that saves the day, though! He tells Seward he’s only here because of the dept he owes to him. They have a Moment.

Mina is very suspicious of Van Helsing’s weird methods, like sending the boys to fetch garlic for Lucy. Van Helsing, in turn, is a mansplainer to boot: his attitude is all "step aside, little lady, a Man has arrived to solve this problem.”

Jonathan is back! Mina tries to throw him a Welcome Back party, but it quickly peters out when everybody sees how he has changed – he walks with a cane now and has lost like half of his hair.

Despite Van Helsing’s manly activities, Lucy dies. Van Helsing tells the crew he suspects vampires, Mina protests (”you’re quoting a 18th century vampire manual, but we live in the 19th century, for crying out loud!”), and they go to the cemetery – only to find Lucy alive, or at least walking around.

It’s implied that immortality is not all that Dracula claimed it would be and Lucy is unhappy about her current state, but she also seems pretty spirited, telling each member of the crew off.

They then drive a stake through Lucy.

Dracula goes to meet Mina. He tries to sweet-talk her into succumbing to his will, but she surprises him by asking him how it really feels like to be immortal.

His answer inspires Mina and she starts writing her novel with great enthusiasm – when she isn’t busy doing weird "let’s lick blood from each other’s fingertips” rituals with Dracula, that is.

Dracula suddenly decides to go back to Transylvania.

Since Jonathan can’t remember where Dracula’s castle is, Van Helsing uses trepanation to squeeze its location out of Renfield (just go with it, I guess.)

The crew get decked in these absolutely hilarious vampire hunting tactical gear outfits complete with garlands of garlic, and off they go.

The vampires and vampire hunters have a big final fight.

Quincey has a fun moment where it turns out he’s brought a gun to a stake fight, but sadly, it’s of no use. He dies, and for a moment, it looks like the hunters are going to lose...

But then Mina distracts Dracula with this big speech about how fame and power and immortality aren’t the things that truly matter! Instead, she says, life is all about caring about other people, keeping their memories alive in your heart even after they’re gone, and trying to make the world a better place for those that come after you.

While Mina’s speech is going on, Van Helsing sneaks behind Dracula, drives a stake through him.

That’s that. Play over, time for curtain call.

My thoughts:

I loved the tongue-in-cheek tone of (the most of) this production. It’s a pretty faithful adaptation of the source material, but at the same time, they’re just having campy fun with vampires – which, I think, is a good way of adapting something as overdone as Dracula.

It’s not all good, though. There are quite a lot of these weird, somber, symbolic/artistic moments (or whatever they were meant to be, I don’t really know how to describe them, I’ll get to that soon), and in my opinion, they really drag the whole thing down. I wish they would’ve stuck with the dark campy comedy route all the way through.

The play features quite a lot of singing, and to be honest, I really wish it didn’t.

The subgenre of this play is “music play”, or “musiikkinäytelmä”, as it’s called in Finnish. That is, it’s a play that features singing but isn’t a musical, since it lacks things like songs moving the plot forward or using dance to tell the story. Music plays are done quite often in Finland, and I’ve never understood why – in my opinion, if you want to sing, just do a proper musical instead of putting a couple of awkward songs here and there.

I loved the instrumental music, though! The music is played live by four musicians, and seriously, the instrumentals slap.

I felt like the symbolism of this play was all over the place. They had these somber moments with people looking into mirrors, and a bunch of poetic lyrics that really made it feel like they’re trying to say something on a symbolic level – but unfortunately, I don’t know what that something is.

At first, the play seemed to imply that Dracula/vampires symbolise freedom, selfishness, power, getting over your fear of death, and also respecting women (he always asks for their consent, after all... instead of just going OWO all over their necks like he does with poor Jonathan!), while Van Helsing/the hunters symbolise fear of difference and death, conformity and conservatism, and toxic masculinity.

But then, the final fight didn’t support my interpretation at all: instead of Mina becoming a real New Woman by joining Dracula and ditching her crew of toxic mansplainers, she tells Dracula he is wrong about everything and knowingly distracts him while Van Helsing stakes him.

I mean, I guess the point could be that everyone sucks here, that it’s not cool to be either a selfish bloodsucker or a toxic mansplainer – but I don’t think that’s the point they’re trying to make, since Mina stays in cahoots with the vampire hunters. Maybe I’d feel differently about this if she just went, you guys have fun killing each other, I’m outta here, I have a novel to write... but she doesn’t.

The way this production uses every inch of Åbo Svenska Teater’s 180-year-old auditorium is so good! They do a lot of cool sound effects (think about the thing they do in The Phantom of the Opera where his voice is coming from different parts of the theatre) and the characters also appear in the balconies. Cool stuff!

Overall, I recommend this to all Dracula/vampire fans around here. It’s hardly perfect, but it has a lot of fun stuff going on. Maybe you’ll even understand what they’re trying to say with the symbolic stuff and end up having a really great time!

#if you can go read this in browser on my actual blog instead of the app/dashboard; the formatting works better there #Dracula #Dracula play tag

[basiltonbutliketheherb]

🎶💿discography tag💿🎶

Rules: pick an artist or a band and share your favorite song from each of their albums, then tag some mutuals!

thanks for the tag ! @onepintobean @yellobb

i’m cheating and doing two because, well, it’s me.

these are the two (very queer. shocker.) artists that have been my biggest inspo for fic writing and also life

first up is Car Seat Headrest

the only song i’m sharing from their earliest albums because all the best songs on them were later re-recorded for their professionally produced albums. but this one has a special place in my heart ❤️

the ultimate gay ace-spec anthem 🙏

the song that got me hooked on them 7 years ago and never let me go. it gives me chills every time. i actually named a character in a fic after this song.

the mental illness anthem when you want to rage against the invalidators. also just a bop.

it nearly killed me trying to pic a song from this album. aka my #1 favorite album of all time. i gleefully referenced my favorite line from this song in a fic because this is my ultimate snowbaz song.

another snowbaz song. tbh all their songs are snowbaz song TO ME because they’re all angsty and gay 💀 also this album is the only one of theirs that i have on vinyl so i really cherish it

***

now onto artist #2 the illustrious Frank Ocean (i think i get a free pass here since he’s only released two albums)

obviously every song on this album is immaculate. this whole album was life changing for me in high school. this song is just *chef’s kiss*

again it utterly KILLS me to have to pick just one song from this album of pure perfection, but this is the song that The Markings On Your Surface, Your Speckled Face is named after, and inspired by, so i couldn’t not pick it.

tagging @mostlymaudlin @artsyunderstudy @ionlydrinkhotwater @messofthejess @tea-brigade @raenestee

#song rec #tag game #car seat headrest #frank ocean #holy shit i just realized i have polls now

[miqolena]

Endwalker Retrospective

There's a question going around on twitter about what was the most memorable part of Endwalker for you. My thoughts are too scattered and numerous for twitter so I decided to reflect on what I remember of the whole of 6.0.

When I was writing my diary I mostly focused on recording things for writing purposes - I was very fanfic oriented and experiencing the expansion at the beginning in that sort of mindset, though that fell away as I got deeper in. On the first day I woke up at 5am to get into the 1.6k queue, got the 2002 error once, and got in first try after that. This would define my days for weeks to come. I would get up at 5-ish am and log in and never log off if I could help it, for fear that I would get kicked and have to deal with the login queue. While I was going through the plot this was easy to maintain because I was active, but afterwards I couldn't take naps over 15 minutes because of the inactivity timer. And I ran myself ragged staying up late and getting up early over the course of probably a week and then, to a lesser extent, a month-ish.

That sleep deprivation probably ended up defining a lot of how I experienced Endwalker. My stress about the game's plot and my drive to be in the game as soon as possible and stay on as long as possible made me something halfway towards physically ill. By the third day I was running on empty, and I wept dramatically at the scene with Moenbryda's parents and pretty much everything that followed. I remember during the final fight I was fighting back tears until "Our song of hope, she dances on the wind, higher, oh higher" kicked my teeth out.

As for my thoughts on the areas/their plots as a whole, pulled from memory and my Endwalker diary:

Sharlayan

I thought Sharlayan was beautiful, and I liked the tension between the Forum and the Scions. I highlighted the flower scene in my diary, but I was so tired I don't remember what I was feeling about it, really. I felt concern for Krile.

Each return to Sharlayan felt like coming back to more tension, but it was the kind of tension I knew would resolve in Lena's favor, so that wasn't anything that concerned me overmuch. It was the rest of the plot, the other areas, that I was worried with.

Thavnair

I liked all of the characters in Thavnair, especially Nidhana. The Final Days coming there was very stressful, and I remember crying or nearly crying at the scene with Matsya and the baby. I've had some time to let the areas become dull to me in the sense that I see them for gameplay and move through them with that purpose, so Thavnair is a little less colorful now, but despite that I still really enjoy the inspiration they drew from real world cultures.

I loved Vrtra. I wanted more of him. Which is good for me in 6.1+.

I had no particularly strong feelings for Ahewann, and I recognize that it would take a lot of effort and money to animate each class (and each future class) responding to a threat via combat in a cutscene, so I wasn't very moved about him dying in that scene where Lena clearly could have done something but didn't.

Garlemald

I screamed so hard when Gaius showed up and was perfectly fine with him keeping back from Garlemald because this meant I didn't have to try writing him and those inevitable conflicts. His reasons made sense and it was fine.

My opinion on the section as a whole was mixed and over time has shifted to a different kind of mixed. I loved the darkness and despair of the Garlemald plot - it weighed on me so heavily in a way that many stories don't. In From the Cold was not so traumatizing for me as it was for my friends, but I still was shocked and scared, and it was traumatizing for Lena.

Learning later that they had in some ways wanted to do an entire expansion wrapping up Garlemald, and hearing people allege over and over again that they cut Garlemald time for Loporrit time, adds some insult to the injury of the depths they couldn't reach, the story that wasn't told, and what was told too quickly. Sometimes it feels like I'm being pushed into being mad about Garlemald, and overall I liked the initial segment a lot, so I'm inclined to dig in my heels a bit despite people I respect making really good points. Oh well. Mixed feelings forever, I guess.

Moon

The Zodiark switchup got me, hook line sinker. I had totally thought he or Hydaelyn would be the final boss.

I understand and appreciate the comedic relief that the Loporrit section, but I spent the entire time screaming internally about having restarted the Final Days, guys we need to go back to the star NOW, what are we DOING, this is STUPID-

Elpis

I will admit, when he showed up, the Emet shipper in me lifted its head like an old dog next to a fire hearing footsteps coming in from the front door. It was exciting to run around with him and Hythlodaeus and later Venat. But that part of me had been wrapped up and tied off with a bow, and I don't have shippy feelings about Emet anymore, so it was in some ways hard to get into this part. Also by then I was starting to really feel the sleep deprivation, which dulls my feelings and perception of things.

I initially thought "evil aliens" for Meteion's freakout, and I don't remember how I felt about the reveal. Today I'm like... it's okay I guess? I like it well enough. No strong feelings.

I have no strong feelings on Hermes either. I think he's fine. A bit of an idiot, maybe. He holds absolutely no interest to me as a character even if you slap the ol' depression label on him, because I have already progressed through a lot of journey with mental health and I have no desire to engage with stories of characters who are struggling with theirs.

Ultima Thule

I knew none of the Scions would die at this part. They would be returned to Lena at the end of all this, somehow, and this was only confirmed for me when Y'shtola was like "lol use the Azem crystal thing". Still, their sacrifices were emotionally impactful - but I was REALLY feeling the sleep deprivation by then, I was completely emotionally wrecked. The slightest thing was making me cry. I shuffled through each event like a zombie.

Like I said, the final battle had me sobbing.

Conclusion

Next time I will get more sleep, queue be damned. And I will take better notes in my expansion diary.

#ffxiv #lena thoughts #endwalker spoilers

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #603

Top Ten Flight of the Conchords Songs

Once more I’m turning my ear to the world of music, and once more I’m listing my favourite songs by a band or artist or whatever. And I guess that’s all there is to it. It’s not a complicated one.

So, Flight of the Conchords; like many people I came across them with their musical sitcom about a million years ago; which, as well as introducing us to vast swathes of their delightful and hilarious back catalogue, also introduced us to Rhys Darby, and for that we must always be grateful. It’s kind of funny to think of this funny, quirky little show, with its mumblecore dialogue and odd parodic songs, starring a bunch of unknown New Zealanders, would spawn Hollywood actors, a major director, and an Oscar winner; it’s a bit like Spaced, in that you have to keep reminding yourself how far these guys have come, and also that the talent was there right from the beginning.

Anyway, Jermaine and Bret have been likeable and adorable and prodigiously talented right from the off. Unlike other musical comedy acts such as Tenacious D, they don’t focus on one genre or style, or even really have a defined motif to their music; and unlike someone such as Weird Al, they don’t quite have the vast range or such specific song parodies. They play, mostly, folk tinged with rock or electronica, and the humour comes largely from the subjects and the lyrics. They “do” a few Bowie-inspired numbers, as well as some hip hop parody, and arguably the greatest Pet Shop Boys riff in the whole world; but really what I love about them is they’re just so loveable.

There are some frankly hilarious lyrics and gags here, really terrific bits of musicality that I come back to over and over. And that’s about it, really; like Kiwi versions of Bill Bailey, there’s something just generally nice about them and their songs, even if they’re singing about robots killing humanity. There’s a cheery self-deprecating patheticness to most of their songs, even when they’re singing in character; it makes them unthreatening, likeable underdogs who you want to root for despite everything. And, of course, this belies the songwriting talent on display; not just their ability to write great jokes or parody different genres and artists, but just their overall musical talent as songwriters and artists. These are great songs.

Anyway, enough waffle, let’s sing.

Inner City Pressure: a fantastic tone-perfect Pet Shop Boys parody, so much so that it’s kind of ruined Pet Shop Boys for me a tiny bit. There’s so much to enjoy in the bonkers, surreal vision of sorrowful inner city life, but for me it’s the fact that they manage to get “concert flautist” into a rhyme that seals the deal.

Think About It: another song ostensibly about how crap things are right now, but on a global scale. Its good-hearted but wrong-headed summation of the ills of the world are a comic delight – “why are we paying so much for sneakers when they’re made by little slave kids?” – although my favourite refrain remains “would someone please remove these cutleries from my knees”. Needs no explanation. Perhaps.

Bowie: another utterly brilliant evocation of an act, this time slaloming its way through Bowie’s entire oeuvre. There are nods to about a dozen Bowie songs here, and McKenzie and Clement do absolutely spot-on impersonations of the great man himself (which is probably why Clement was asked to play “Bowie, but a giant crab” in Moana a few years later). Gets away with calling Bowie a “filthy old bastard”, which I kinda think he’d have liked.

Hiphopapotamus versus Rhymenoceros: a sublime hip hop parody that is equal parts childish word game and surreal delight. The inventiveness not just of the lyrics, but also the overall comedy antics of the song (“My lyrics are bottomless,” he says, before being unable to think of the next line). Segueing for no good reason into a discussion of having tea with grandma, the overall silliness of the song masks the fact they are actually pretty good at hip hop.

Sugarlumps: sort of a weird inverse of Milkshake or My Humps but much dafter and about a part of the male anatomy that I doubt anyone really thinks of as being a source of attraction. The utter randomness of its subject matter is one thing, but McKenzie’s sublime interjection (“you get two complimentary after dinner mints”) makes it art.

Too Many Dicks on the Dance Floor: a really catchy beat is one thing – “too many dicks, too many dicks” – this is a fast-spoken dancefloor number that also boasts a neat line in wordplay, something the Conchords excel at. “Skedaddle with the cattle prods” is, frankly, a line of genius, but even it pales next to “Too much time on too many hands/Not enough ladies too many mans”.

If You’re Into It: a beautiful and tender ballad – albeit a bouncy up-tempo one – to mutual consent in a relationship, this is a song that needs to be lauded and applauded. Exploring the nuances of an early relationship, testing boundaries and being upright and frank in a discussion of what you want and what you’re comfortable with. That very quickly descends into weird fruit stuff and bringing in roommates. A sheer comedic joy.

Carol Brown: I knew this as the “Choir of Ex-Girlfriends” song and had mostly forgotten it till giving it a re-listen, when its subtleties and humour bubbled right up. A weird comedic version of songs like Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover, it’s just as random and filled with beautiful wordplay as most other Conchords songs. From “Lisa got amnesia” to “Bruce turned out to be a man” and the icing on the cake, the actual choir of ex-girlfriends interjecting (“This guy is a fool”).  

The Most Beautiful Girl (in the Room): often their songs juxtapose a series tone or subject matter with actual lyrics that undercut the seriousness to humorous effect, and that’s the case here. Ostensibly a love song about a beautiful girl, the various and increasing qualifications make it truly hilarious. Some are just fantastic pieces of imagery (“You’re so beautiful/You could be an air hostess in the sixties”), and some are just damn good gags (“You could be a part-time model/But you’d probably still have to keep your normal job”).

Business Time: a sexy Barry White-esque number about, well, business time, this is another one of those that marries serious intent (sexytime sex song) with undercutting self-deprecating patheticness. Whether it’s references to keeping your socks on (“business socks”) or doing the recycling, the whole thing is a delight, although for me it’s the refence to “that ugly baggy t-shirt” that for some reason I find hilarious. Anyway, it’s great.

#top ten #songs #music #tv #comedy #flight of the conchords #brett #jermaine #murray #present

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary44

10/21-22/2023

saturday - sunday

today/tomorrow i am gonna see fire walk with me in a theater, which is crazy!

anyways, uhhhhh, i didn't do like anything useful today. i mean i cooked, cleaned, i worked out like i do every day, but i did not write riffs, i did not even listen to the songs. i kept putting that off, nervously i guess. it really scares me kinda i guess because i don't want to be super disappointed in all the songs, i get so easily worked up i guess. anything that makes me feel like i have to deal with something i sort of run from, which sucks totally.

anyways, a pic of me on the phone in the airport my gf took when we got to denver. usually i don't like other pictures taken of me by others, but this one i don't look ugly, you can also hardly see me so,

i was asking for directions in the airport, because it's so huge and weird.

right now i'm just thinking about super stupid stuff, like five nights at freddy's, which i have to reiterate, i think i'm reiterating, i've learned about almost totally from morbid fascination.

i'm thinking about its relative influence and also scott cawthon being an insane evangelical conservative. like, i keep thinking about pizzagate, which is wrong i suppose because many of the games that develop whatever lore, that comes in later. but it is definitely possessed by the same kind of satanic panic child abuse conspiracy stuff, so it's roughly already there. something is totally psycho about those games to me and like, the whole creepy kid's stuff horror rn. it's always been a thing for horror, like childhoods made horrifying, it's also like, one of the scariest times for anyone. it makes some sense, but i dunno, it's like so of this moment it feels hard to ignore the constant touching on 'trauma' and abuse and whatever in these games, the weirdness of the villains being so like, of a particular class, (like, walt disney types, creating a vague critique of something so vague it feels like video essay fodder more than anything else), the weirdness of the trauma (retreads all the satanic panic tropes of lost memories and things (re: lost memory/false memory, i've like actually experienced that and experienced being told that something i remembered didn't happen and that it really was covering something up that i could not recall at all, and none of this stuff really gets that feeling right. it's scary obviously but it only becomes horror in retrospect, in the moment, it's just endless illness.)) anyways this is all so stupid it doesn't seem like anyone should have to/want to think about it, but like, i dunno. it feels like the obsessions with like, content about true crime/its related forms (yt groomer exposes count imo) is in some level informed by this stuff, or this stuff is informed by that. there's a video some kid made actually about a pedophile teacher (or maybe headmaster) in his school, and he did it by using a frame narrative of analog horror files sent to him.

i don't think this stuff is explicitly / purposefully aiming itself in these directions always/mostly. i think there's a case of being artistically inspired and not examining what the originating point says/does, beyond just being something you love or whatever. and why would you be critical of it, it's so stupid and for kids and whatever. but i feel like that work's assumptions are basically carried by a bunch of other things and no one really examines what those assumptions are/who carried them/spat them out into life.

such pointless thought, though.

i wrote two tiny things today, a bit for a collaborative poem, and i wrote this image i saw in the shower. it came from patterns in the tile, super vivid, like flashes of real life in front of me, a dead fox in a hunter's arms, and the fox being shot. i can't explain why this, and i won't put the image down in full, but i felt it vividly, all the fleshiness and realness of that, in one half of a half second, and committed to memory.

anyways look at this new brand i found today on fashionsnap, called a practiced hand, their collection from a/w 2023. i totes love it.

anyways it is 4:30ish am so likeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee,

byebye!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[iamanerd1]

It’s thinking about Cut Lewquane hours

In aftermath they make a point of him being the model father and talking about how “Old man Lawquane” chose his family over War.

And I’ve been thinking about how that story is going to be passed down and since Saleucami is a farming planet it got me thinking....

There has to been an old farm bar somewhere on Saleucami where a soloist plays on a valacord the Balard of old man Cut Lawquane. Because we need more ballads in Star Wars I will die for this!!!!

#ill write the whole song later when i have the inspiration #cut lawquane #the clone wars #nerd reads star wars #or (has read) i guess #aftermath #star wars #star wars the clone wars

[maria-akira]

good girls don't get used: michael langdon x fem! reader

—♡—

READ PART 2 HERE

summary: michael langdon, your ex, falls into a bet wherein he has to (fake) date you. if he falls in love again, he loses and doesn't get the prize.

warnings: private school au, fuckboy!michael, slight mention of sexual topics + i didnt proofread this mwahaha

this fic is inspired by the song 'good girls (don't get used)' by beach bunny.

i don't know if other private schools have bells, because mine doesn't :(

italicized bold words are direct lyrics from the song. but in this chapter, there are none since this is like an intro :)

—♡—

"Dude, shut the fuck up."

"Are you kidding? She really said that?"

"You really think that's gonna happen?"

"Who's class do you have first?"

Voices of different students flooded the white and grey hallways of the school. Different friend groups and teachers can be seen roaming the halls, getting stuff from their respective lockers as they waited for the bell to ring.

"Y/N! Do you mind if I borrow your calculator? I forgot mine at home and Math is my next class." She said while panting.

"Sure, here it is. If you lose it, I'd probably drop kick your ass." Y/N let out a small laugh and grabbed the calculator from her locker, giving it to her friend.

"Gosh, Y/N. I'll never lose it! I'll give it back during recess. Thanks again!" She flashed Y/N a smile and waved bye, before returning to her locker.

Y/N looked at herself in the mirror she had on her locker, fixing the tie that always seemed to be out of place whenever she checked. Her hair was neat, complete with a white headband that complimented the color of her school's uniform.

A few seconds later, the bell rang and everybody started rushing. Different couples were seen kissing before they parted ways for the mean time.

Cringe. Y/N thought. She shrugged it off and held her books tightly to her chest, walking to her next class.

Walking straight into the classroom, she noticed a group of guys dart their eyes to her direction as she entered. They gave her weird smirks. In return, she stared back at them while she made her way to her seat and never broke eye contact. Eventually, she noticed a familiar face among the group.

Michael, her ex.

How the fuck is he in my English class? She thought, along with a whole hundred thoughts roaming around her head. Michael stared back at her, giving her a wink.

Y/N's face gave a hint of disgust, "The fuck do you want, Langdon?" She stood up from her seat and walked over to Michael, pushing his other friends. She heard his friends coo and tease Michael for his act towards her.

Michael put up his hands in defense, "Chill, is it bad to wink at a pretty girl like you?" He said with a smug look, while he grazed his hand over her arm.

"Shut the fuck up, Langdon. Don't you ever touch me." Y/N slapped his hand away, his friends taken aback from her actions. As she walked back to her seat, the teacher entered as well.

Y/N put her face in her hands. By now, a million thoughts were in her head. It's been 2 years since Michael and her broke up, and since then, she made a promise to herself that she would never fall in love with men like him. She was so tired of all the tears and sleepless nights that Michael gave her.

She let out a sigh and lifted her head from her hands. The soft light from the windows filled her eyes after the darkness formed by her hands, causing her to rub her eyes to adjust from the light.

The rest of the hour went smoothly for Y/N, after English class was recess, her most favorite time of the day— aside from going home, of course.

She glanced at her watch, 10:28 AM.

2 more minutes, and English will be over. She thought.

She averted her gaze back on the white board full of scribbles about some writing lesson she clearly did not listen to. She looked over to her classmates and friends, Well they aren't listening either. She laughed at the thought.

As soon at the bell rang, everyone started packing up their notebooks, textbooks, and whatever they had on their table. Every student was seen rushing out of every classroom in hopes of being the first ones in line for the cafeteria.

On the way there, Y/N bumped into her friend group. "Hey Y/N! We heard about happened in English class. Michael is really in your class?" A friend of hers mentioned, "Yea, and apparently that son of a bitch winked at me, such a disgusting ass motherfucker. he should keep his fuck boy ass to himself." Y/N spat out, earning a chorus of 'oh's' from her friends.

When they arrived at the cafeteria, the line was painfully long, all of them groaned in frustration and they had no choice but to wait for the line to move. But once it did, it was faster than usual. After Y/N and her friends received their food, they left the cafeteria to eat at their usual place.

The school rooftop.

A few students know that staying in the school rooftop is permitted, which was why Y/N and her friends loved eating there.

When they arrived at the rooftop, they saw the usual people that they always encounter while staying there. The view was beautiful, there was no doubt about it. The small garden in the rooftop gave a beautiful and elegant touch.

Though there were a few chairs and tables, Y/N and her friends always preferred to eat on the floor. So, they laid the linen cloth on the ground and sat on it. Y/N was wearing the skirt uniform, thus she removed her tux and placed it on her legs to prevent her skirt from lifting.

They shared a few giggles while they ate their meals, laughing about some life experiences, or whatever they wanted to talk about.

Y/N loved this. She loved how she and her friends would have little moments like these, it was like an escape from reality.

The rest of the day went smoothly for Y/N. She didn't fall asleep in any of her classes, which in this case was a very big accomplishment for her.

As soon as she arrived home, her little brother, Aaron, rushed towards her. "Y/N!! I missed you!" He chimed, Y/N kneeled down onto his level and gave him the tightest hug. "I missed you too, Aaron!" Her mom came into the room and smiled. Y/N stood up and gave her mom a hug as well.

"How was school?" Her mom asked, Y/N placed her tux on the coat hanger by the door. "It was fine, Mom. Where's Dad?" Y/N walked over to the fridge and poured herself a glass of milk, "He'll be home soon, he still has a meeting right now." She took a sip of her milk, "Oh, okay. I'll be upstairs doing school work." The glass of milk that was once full, now empty.

She took her things upstairs and plopped herself on the bed. Out of nowhere she felt a vibrating noise from her bag, she rummaged through her bag to find her phone and once she did, a message was see on her lockscreen.

Unknown Sender has sent you a message.

She unlocked her phone and went to her messages.

Unknown Sender: hey ;)

Her eyebrows furrowed. What the fuck?

(Y/N): hi? whos this?

read 2:29 pm

Unknown Sender: oh shit you deleted my number? damn.

"Huh? I don't recall deleting anyone's number..." She went to her recently deleted contacts and it showed nothing.

(Y/N): im sorry, i haven't deleted anyone's number recently, maybe you have the wrong number?

read 2:32 pm

Unknown Sender: im pretty sure you know me, Y/N.

They know my name. And her heart started pounding.

(Y/N): and im pretty sure i dont, so just reveal yourself before i report this number

read 2:35pm

Unknown Sender: ayo chill 😬 its me michael.

"Michael fucking Langdon? You've got to be fucking me right now." She felt rage fill her, slamming her keyboard.

(Y/N): langdon what the fuck do you want? i made it very clear that i dont want you talking to me.

read 2:40 pm

Before Michael could reply, she changed his contact name to 'Motherfucker'

You have changed Unknown Sender's contact name as 'Motherfucker'

Motherfucker: damn you still mad at me after 2 years? gosh (Y/N). whats with the nickname?

(Y/N): of course im still mad, asshole. ill never forget what you fucking did.

read 2:43 pm

Motherfucker: i thought you forgave me 🥺

(Y/N): FORGIVE YOU???? god langdon you're so fucking stupid, i will never forgive you. you didnt even say sorry in the first place!

Pissed off, Y/N blocked his number. "That fucking asshole." She mumbled to herself.

—

"Hey! Y/N!" A familar voice called out from the crowd. Y/N removed one earbud and turned around to find the voice that called her.

Once she saw the shiny blonde locks from that stood out in the crowd, she immediately ran in the opposite direction in hopes of avoiding him.

It was Michael, again.

"Y/N wait!" Michael called out again, chasing her

For some reason, Michael was able to catch her. He pulled Y/N into an empty science laboratory and they were both panting.

"What the fuck do you want this time, Langdon?" Y/N was catching her breath, fanning herself with her hand.

"Okay. First off, sorry for the sudden message. I know I pissed you off and that wasn't my intention at a—"

"What was your intention then?" She cut him off.

Michael panicked.

"Uh, you know? I just wanna talk to you again. Clear the bad air between us.."

Y/N let out a laugh, "Clear the bad air?? Oh gooood Langdon, you are really so stupid! You know what? You just made it worse." She pushed him off and walked out of the room,

"Whatever it is your planning, Langdon, I'm telling to stop it. I don't wanna talk to you or even go near you."

Michael was dumbfounded. She changed so much. He thought to himself.

2 years ago, Y/N was the sweetest, most innocent girl he knew. Playing with her feelings was Michael's biggest regret, and he's starting to feel it again.

Michael was about to leave the room until he felt a buzzing from his pocket, He pulls out his phone to see who was calling him.

Duncan, one of his bestfriends.

Michael answered the call, "Hello?"

"What's the update on your little girl?"

"She still doesn't trust me."

"That's sad man."

"I know. She changed alot. "

"What do you mean by 'changed'?" Duncan emphasized,

"I can't point it out, Dunc."

"Whatever you do, don't chicken out. I promise this bet is worth it."

"Fine, I trust you."

Call Ended.

Michael ran his fingers through his hair in frustration and left the room before the bell rang.

—

It was the last subject of the day. Most students were falling asleep or on their phones.

Y/N was scribbling weird things on the back of her notebook, when suddenly the bell rang. She packed up her stuff and stood up from her seat. Before she could leave the room, she saw a familiar face again.

Michael stood by the doorway of her classroom, the strap of his bag over one shoulder while he looked for Y/N among the other students.

Y/N ignored Michael and walked past him, but he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her towards him.

"Langdon! What the fuck do you want?!" She screamed, all of the students averting their attention to her.

Michael put a finger on his lips, shushing her. "Let's go somewhere private, yea?"

"But—"

Before she could object, Michael dragged her outside towards the parking lot.

"Okay this is actually something serious—"

"CUT THE SHIT LANGDON! IM TIRED OF YOU."

"Woah‐woah! Easy now. I actually need your help, with school..."

Michael rubbed her shoulders, looking straight into her eyes. For once, Y/N believed him. His eyes were speaking the truth.

"Okay, fine. Shoot."

"I can't believe I'm saying this.."

"Don't waste my time, Langdon."

"Fine! I'm failing."

Y/N's mouth hung open. Michael was one of the top students in their batch and this was obviously a huge surprise for her.

"Oh, really? What am I gonna do about that?" She crossed her arms and cocked her head to the side.

"Can you please help me? Like, tutor me?" At this point, Michael was desperate.

"Um, no thanks. Just fuck some other girl's pussy for your grades." Y/N pushed him away, but Michael stopped her again.

"I'm serious, Y/N. I really need your help."

"Why me?"

Now that made Michael nervous.

"Because you happen to be the top of our batch right now?"

"Fine! Under one condition."

Michael was curious, "What?"

"If I do this tutor shit, we're doing it at my place. I can't tutor you in your messy ass room." Y/N said. She always remembered how messy Michael's room was when they were together. He would only clean when he was scolded by Y/N.

"That's fine by me."

"Okay then. 5pm, sharp."

She walked away, but Michael pulled her again.

"Let me go! What do you want now?" Y/N said, clearly annoyed.

"Unblock my number, silly." Michael chuckled,

"No."

"How are you supposed to know if I already arrived?"

"Theres a doorbell, dimwit. I'll be downstairs waiting for you."

"Bu—"

"Bye, Michael. I'll see you later." Y/N flashed him a small smile and continued to walk away.

Once he saw Y/N reach the bus stop, he started walking to his car, until someone tapped him on his shoulder.

"Hey Michael, whats the update? I saw you talking to her." It was Duncan. His brown hair was lightly gelled back and the first two buttons of his white dress shirt were undone.

"I'm still trying to win her back, I lied to her that I was failing so she could tutor me. That way, it'll be easier."

Duncan smirked, "That's my boy! When will this tutor thing start?"

"Later, 5pm."

"Hmm, that's good. Remember, if you fall in love again, bet's over."

"I won't."

—♡—

tags mwah: @kitwalker02 @sojournmichael @angelicmichael @deademobitch @iheartfrogs101 @tatestripedsweater @mrs-march-ahs

i hope you guys enjoyed this. i wrote this while doing schoolwork </3

#michael langdon imagines #michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #ahs x reader #american horror story #ahs #ahs 8 #ahs 9 #ahs smut #cody fern imagines #cody fern x reader #duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd x reader #michael langdon smut #duncan shepherd smut #american horror story 9 #xavier plympton imagines #ahs apocalypse #ahs imagines

[cazimagines]

Never break the chain

Synopsis: You were Zemo’s devoted girlfriend, he would take you all over the world and treat you to everything you want in life however that all changed the day Sokiva fell. Consumed by anger Zemo went off the deep end trying to avenge his fallen country and you last saw him being escorted to prison. Years later you became really ill and there was only one thing that could save you. After a lot of searching you finally managed to get your hands on some super soldier serum which saved you however Zemo is now out of prison as is determined to finish what he started no matter what stood in his way.

Warnings/Tags: Bad Zemo, Mentions of guns, Toxic relationship, Almost cried while writing this, Hits in the feelings, Lots of angst, So much angst, Mentions of death

Word count: 1.7k

Author’s note: Hello my fellow masochists *cough* Markiplier *cough*, I for one thrive on sad moments in fics, ones that break my heart. I live off angst and I am sure I am not the only one in this so I have written this angsty Zemo fic. There is no fluff here just sadness so you have been warned. I’m going to write a really sweet and fluff filled one shot after this as an apology. Also warning this relationship is toxic so like obviously I don’t condone Zemo’s behaviour in this, he’s meant to be a dick here.

I got inspired to write this from a song so like if you want extra emotions listen to this: https://youtu.be/1A8YpV1tfsQ

This is also being posted on my ao3 account under the name Casmad

The wind blew sharply against you, the coldness of it scratching your skin. Your eyes water up slightly at the harshness of it and you wrap your arms around your body trying to warm yourself up. You looked out over the cliff, looking over now the deserted area you once called home. Sokovia. Its beautiful landscape is broken and torn apart. An echo of how magnificent it once was. You raise your hand to touch the chain that hung around your neck. A reminder of the past.

“Darling I would be honored if you wore this for me. I have a similar one I’ll always keep around my neck so that even when we are apart, there’s a part of us that will always be together” Zemo asks nervously, swallowing and glancing from the necklace in his hand to your face.

You put your hands onto his, taking the necklace, “I’ll never take it off”

Zemo’s face broke out into a smile, his eyes shining as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. He holds you closely as you close your eyes melting into his presence. He kisses the top of your forehead and rests the top of his head on yours. “My beautiful moon” he murmurs

A tear slowly slipped down your cheek as you thought back to better times. You had been so happy with him. You two had planned your whole lives out together. The Baron and Baroness.

“Would you care to accompany me to the ball?” Zemo asks, holding his arm out to you.

“Oh I don’t know should I?” you joke, holding your chin in your hand as if questioning it, making Zemo chuckle.

“If you do I promise you can be in charge in the bedroom tonight,” he says as he leans into you. You grin back at him, raising your hand to his suit jacket and pulling him towards you for a kiss. As you feel his lips on yours and his hand rests on your hip you smile into the kiss. As you pull back you swell with happiness seeing a rosy tint to Zemo’s cheeks.

“I suppose turning up to to a ball on the arm of a Baron has its perks”

Zemo laughs and pulls you into a side hug placing a kiss on your temple.

“What would I do without you” he hums to himself as he admires you “My moon”

Everything made sense, everything fit. You couldn’t imagine a life any different till it happened.

You and Zemo had been away visiting a local country when you heard of the news. You collapsed on the floor screaming at the tv as Zemo was on the phone already organizing a trip back home. When you arrived your heart broke seeing all the destruction. Zemo was holding your hand but he let go. It was all gone. Everything. Your whole life had changed just like that.

You wipe the tears away from your cheeks yet they continue to flow as you remembered what happened after. The madness and desire for revenge had consumed Zemo. You tried to stop him. You really did but what could you have done?

“Helmut, please. This isn’t healthy...this...this isn’t you!” you cried as Zemo was preparing his attack on the avengers

“Y/n I have to do this. There is no other way” he angrily replied, refusing to look at you.

“I can’t support this” you whisper, grabbing a hold of his arm. “I can’t watch you do this”

Zemo looks at you, his face forlorn as he watches the tears fall from your eyes. He pulls you to his chest wrapping his arm around you and kisses the top of your head, stroking your hair. “I’m not asking you to moon”

You leave the warmth of his arms and watch as he grabs his bags and walks out of your room, giving you one last glimpse of goodbye before he walks out of your life.

That was the last time you saw him in person. The next time it was on the news as he was being arrested. In the end, his plan had succeeded. He split up the avengers but then what? It didn’t bring anyone back. Sokovia was still dead and you were left behind while he was locked up for life.

You close your eyes, squeezing out the remains of your tears, preparing to leave this cliff looking over your deserted town when you hear the sound of a click. You let in a sharp breath of recognition. Slowly turning around your eyes adjust to the barrow of a gun and the person standing behind it.

Zemo.

He still looked the same as you remembered. Though if you stared closely you could see lines showing his age starting to appear, the bags under his eyes were bigger than what they once were however after all this time it was still him. He even wore that ridiculously over-the-top coat that you always stole from him.

His eyes however were different, when you always looked into them in the past they seemed warm, like the feeling of drinking hot chocolate. You could melt in them but now they were stone cold. Emotionless. Like he wasn’t even there.

“Zemo…” you breathed out focusing on him

“I planned to eliminate all superheroes” he states

You shake your head at him, “Zemo please”

“I’ve almost completed my plan to rid the world of superheroes, of ‘super soldiers’”

“Please let me explain,” you say starting to take a step forward to him but he quickly raises his other hand grasping the gun, holding it in both hands now and pointing it at you making you stop in your tracks.

“How could you,” he spits, his lips drawing back in a snarl “How could you become one of them!”

“I had no choice” You rasp, tears starting to flow from your eyes again, “I would have died otherwise”

“THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED THAN TAKEN IT” Zemo shouts

The colour drains from your face, your eyes widen in shock staring at him. His jaw tightens as he glares at you. You both stand there in silence taking in what he had said.

Wiping the side of your tear-stained cheek you smile sadly at him, sniffing, you step forward again resting your forehead against the gun.

“Okay” you simply say, your throat feeling like sandpaper as you utter those words

Zemo glares at you, his finger resting on the trigger. The gun starts to shake as he clenches his face in anger.

“DAM IT” he shouts, throwing the gun to the side. His hands grab onto your shoulders roughly, causing you to hiss in pain.

“Why are you doing this to me y/n. How could you do this to me” He snaps.

You were too shocked to reply to him, causing him to get even angrier. His eyes swarmed with tears and when one threatened to fall he pushed you back and turned away so you wouldn’t see.

You shakily let out a breath you were holding in and collapsed onto your knees. Your heart was beating rapidly against your chest and you clenched the sides of your body with your arms in comfort.

Zemo turns back around to you, hatred in his eyes. “I’ve come so far, killing so many just to be stopped here”

“Because you refuse to kill the woman you love” you implored in hope but he shakes his head, “No. Not that”

“Yes, yes that Zemo!” you say shakily getting back up off the ground. “Zemo I still love you though by gods I shouldn’t. We made a promise to each other” you affirmed holding up the chain around your neck, “We were forever Zemo”

Zemo’s finger brushed up against the chain that had been hanging around his neck for the past seven years. They wrap around the chain and in one swift motion, he pulls it off his neck, breaking the chain and throwing it to the ground.

You stare at the broken chain on the floor, your heart dropping. In just one notion it was like all those moments you two spent together were worth nothing. It had led to nothing.

Zemo grabs ahold of your chain and pulls you closer to him, “The truth is, my darling moon, that you don’t love me either”

You try to argue back to him but he raises his finger to your lips, “ah”

“You want to know how I know?”

You don’t say anything, staring at him confused, he leans towards you and automatically you close your eyes however he instead he puts his lips to your ears,

“You’ve been calling me Zemo instead of Helmut”

He lets go of the chain, pushing you away from him again, the force knocking you to the ground.

You think back over your conversation. He was right. When had you started referring him to his last name rather than his first name? You had always called him by his first name before.

You look back up to him, your eyes watering and noticing the tears starting to fall from his eyes.

“I spent years in that prison imaging what it would be like to finally get out. To hold you in my arms once again. To have what we once had. It was the only thing that kept me going in there. You can’t even begin to imagine the pain I felt when I found out the truth. The pain of your betrayal. I hated you. I...I” his voice cracked as he started to cry more

He keeps trying to stop letting out a sob yet his mouth can’t help but frown and his face contorted. “I thought I could stop the pain by getting rid of you but I can’t. Even though I can’t stand looking at you I can’t kill you”

He swallows and looks away from you to the chain on the ground, “I don’t want to ever see you again.”

You could have said something then. Called out to him. Spoke sense to him. He might have even listened but you didn’t. You didn’t say anything. You didn’t try to stop him. You couldn’t even look him in the eyes.

He turns his back and starts to walk away but stops for a moment, turning his head slightly.

“Goodbye y/n”

#zemo #zemo x reader #zemo imagine #i love zemo #zemo x y/n #tfatws #marvel #mcu #daniel brühl #baron zemo #helmut zemo #zemo x you #angst #Zemo angst